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Chapter Text

-------- Saturday, December 2, 1815

The soft light of the rising sun wakes Penelope from deep slumber. As her eyes blink open, she feels rejuvenated and rested for the first time in weeks. Penelope pauses when the first thing she sees are the dying embers of her fireplace and not the yellow wallpaper of her bedchamber wall. It takes her a moment to realize that she is lying among several blankets on her room’s floor. As she regains her bearings, she becomes fully aware of the warm body pressed against her from the back of her head to her feet tucked between a pair of calves. Colin’s arm drapes across her hip and belly, his right hand nearly underneath her. The solid weight and heat of him makes her relax in his embrace. Penelope snuggles closer and feels Colin’s arm tighten around her waist. His lips press against the back of her head in an unconscious kiss, but he does not wake. 

Last night with Colin was incredible. She will never forget the encounter.

Although she has never had a man in her bedchamber before (much less sleeping behind her), Penelope feels safe and loved in his embrace. If she can wake up next to him for the rest of her natural-born days, she would love to do so. It is a divine experience to connect with another person so deeply. 

Unwilling to rise just yet, Penelope lets herself drift mentally. 

Colin allowed himself to be vulnerable with her. He spoke of his sisters, his forgiveness, and his appreciation. He also disclosed his fear of inadequacy. Penelope reassured him as insistently as she could, but it is apparent that insecurity still plagues him. She reckons that time shall be the only solution to that issue. At some point during their exchange of words and frequent kisses, the two of them dozed off into sleep. Penelope has a faint memory of him telling her about Anthony’s duel with the duke. She likely fell asleep during his story to her dismay. Perhaps, she can talk him into sharing the tale again when they are both more awake. Her position against his side with her head on his chest had been so warm and comfortable. Penelope felt wrapped up in his presence and she found it easy to drift off to the soft cadence of his voice. 

Penelope comes back to reality when she feels movement behind her. Colin’s arm tightens across her belly and he tugs her closer. The gasp she releases when she feels his hardness press against her rear is unintentional and loud. It startles Colin into wakefulness.

“Penny, you alright?” he asks, voice heavy with sleep. 

Blushing hotly, Penelope wiggles anxiously and Colin groans in response. His hand slips from underneath her side to her hip. He stills her with a firm touch. 

“Fuck,” he swears as he pushes his hips back. Hearing such foul language from him makes her body tingle. Penelope did not realize how stirring such words could be. “I apologize, sweetheart.” 

Colin rolls onto his back, separating their bodies with a groan. Penelope rolls onto her belly, lifting her upper body with her elbows. He throws an arm over his face. She can see his cheeks blossoming pink with a blush. His dark blue shirt contrasts the olive tone of his skin. His chest hair peeks from his wide collar. He is far too handsome for a man who just woke up. 

“Did I do something particularly…enticing?” Penelope asks. Could she have been so alluring in her sleep that she inspired such a response? It is a rather titillating thought, if so. 

Colin lets out a sleepy laugh. His sleep-roughened voice has the odd effect of making her nipples tighten. He truly makes her body mad! Penelope does not understand what is happening to her, but her breasts ache for his touch again. The memory of his tongue sliding across her cleavage makes her ears burn. 

“You are incredibly enticing at all times,” he replies, resting his arm above his head. Colin turns to look at her and the dark blue of his eyes shines resplendently in the soft light of her bedchamber. He is so classically handsome with the shadows of facial hair erupting on his jawline, his lips pink and slightly chapped, and his curls flattened on one side but fluffy on the other. “However, this is a rather normal affliction in the mornings.”

He looks vulnerable and sweet. His cheeks shine a soft pink with shyness present in his gaze. It is nice to know that he too is affected while navigating this change in their relationship. 

Colin’s blue eyes drift from her face to her neck. When she sees his pupils dilate and his blush deepen, her brows scrunch together in confusion. Following his gaze, Penelope looks down and sucks in a breath when she sees her breasts nearly spilling out of the top of her nightgown. Her lifted position on her elbows puts them on display and one of her nipples threatens to slip from the cotton. She can see the pink of her areola above the neckline. 

Penelope drops down to the blankets in mortification. God and above, she must look like a wanton wench! Wishing she could melt into the blankets, Penelope rests her head against the floor. She hears Colin chuckle. Reaching out to punch him in the side is a reflex. The resulting exhalation of surprise he lets out is incredibly satisfying. 

“Pen,” he says, amusement clear in his voice.

Penelope continues trying to disappear as he shuffles around on the blankets. She can feel his warmth come closer once again. His hand presses against the small of her back. “Look at me.”

“I think death would be preferable,” she responds. He laughs softly. His thumb rubs soothing passes up and down her spine. Penelope, against her will, feels herself start to lose the tension in her body. 

“That would be unfortunate,” he says. “I rather like you alive.”

“Colin,” she replies. “Can you not leave me to my embarrassment? I am sorry you had to see me in such a state.”

“What in the blazes do you have to be embarrassed about, Pen?” he asks incredulously. “I would be a blessed man if I could see you in that state every day.”

Penelope turns her head to the side to peer up at him. Colin lay on his side, jaw planted in the palm of his hand as he sits up using his elbow. She cannot detect any dishonesty on his face. 

“You liked seeing my bosom?” she asks. Colin’s ears turn red immediately and she sees him swallow hard. 

“Indeed,” he admits. “You are beautiful beyond what I’ve imagined.”

“Do I look like a mess?” 

He takes a beat to glance from her tangled curls and down her body. His gaze feels scorching as he looks her over. 

“Yes,” Colin agrees, “but you are my mess.”

He leans his forehead against her own. The romantic moment shatters when Colin presses a gentle kiss to her mouth. The way her nose wrinkles is inadvertent, but it catches Colin’s attention when he pulls back.

“Pen?” he questions. 

“Colin,” Penelope begins slowly as she inches back from him. Colin’s confusion grows but he allows her to retreat. “Forgive my forthrightness but your breath is awful.”

For a second, there is shocked silence. Penelope fears that she has offended him into speechlessness. Colin blinks at her twice in disbelief before he collapses into near-silent stitches. His wheezing laughter makes Penelope laugh as well. The two of them spend minutes in hysterics, each time they catch each other’s eyes it renews their giggles. 

By the time they settle, Colin’s eyes brim with tears and Penelope is red-faced. 

“I have an extra brush for your teeth,” Penelope says, keeping her mouth tight to prevent her own breath from reaching him. Penelope rolls to her back and sits up from the floor. She tucks errant curls behind her ears and tugs the neckline of her dress up. She glances at Colin, who is sitting up beside her.  “Let us go to the bathing room.” 

Colin stands and reaches out both hands to help Penelope off the floor. She takes them with a grateful smile as Colin says, “Forgive me I have never done this before.”

Penelope looks at him curiously as they walk towards the bathing room. “Done what?”

With his free hand, Colin rakes his fingers through his curls. He looks nervous. “I’ve never woken up next to someone in the morning,” he replies. Penelope pauses for a moment. His ears burn bright red in response to her surprised look. 

Penelope leads Colin into the bathing room. She rummages around in the cabinetry to retrieve an extra toothbrush for him. They stand near the basin in the corner of the room, Colin pouring some water over both brushes. 

“You never slept next to anyone?” Penelope asks. “Not even with the woman in Paris?”

Colin’s ears turn bright red as his shyness flares. His cheeks shine the lightest shade of pink, and despite the sting of jealousy she feels about him being with another woman, Penelope is charmed by how flustered he is. 

“Never,” he replies. “That was a rather brief encounter.”

They clean their teeth in a silence that is equal parts relieved and reticent. When finished, Penelope uses a damp cloth to clean her face and rinses her toothbrush. Colin copies her actions. Penelope finds herself taken in by the way his biceps move under his shirt as he washes his face. Watching the way his body moves feels intimate and arousing in ways that she is wholly unfamiliar with. 

Unable to restrain her nerves any longer, Penelope asks, “Was I alright for you?” 

Colin’s dark blue eyes swing in her direction. He blinks in apparent confusion before he says, “Alright?” Penelope tugs on the end of her braid as she nods at him. Colin steps closer. She sucks in a breath when he extends his left hand and uses the knuckle of his pointer finger to tilt her chin upward. 

Their eyes connect. His eyes shine earnestly. “Nothing compares to this,” he answers. Colin’s expression is open and vulnerable in a way that makes Penelope’s spine melt. She finds herself grabbing the back of his hand. 

“Truly?” 

“Truly,” he admits, moving his hand from her face to change the position of their hands. His large palm covers the back of her hand and their fingers entwine. He continues, “Sleeping next to you has brought me greater joy than I have ever experienced. Anything I have done before this pales in comparison to the way I feel when you kiss me or touch me.”

Colin raises their tangled hands to his mouth and presses kisses against each of her fingers. Penelope feels her blood rush in response to the intimate touch. 

“I love you,” he says against her skin. Penelope lifts her free hand to cup his jaw. His unshaven face makes her skin prickle as she smooths a thumb across his cheek in a caress. 

“I love you too,” she replies. His eyes flare with joy and she feels the apple of his cheek firm under her fingers as he smiles. His vulnerability, love, and trust remind her that there are things they still must discuss. It is early, but they do not have infinite amounts of time before he must leave. Marrying Colin is no hardship, especially in light of last night, but Penelope would prefer it to be on their terms and not because they were caught out. 

“We still have time before you depart,” Penelope says. “I must show you something.” 

Colin follows her from the bathing room to her bedroom window. When she moves the carpet out of the way, his eyebrows arch high in surprise. He looks even more surprised when she kneels down and tugs a loose floorboard away to reveal organized stacks of money. 

“This is where I store my Whistledown earnings,” she confesses. “There is close to 15,000 pounds here last I counted.”

“You have made that high a sum?” He asks, shocked. Colin joins her on the floor. She lets him reach out and touch the money. He runs his finger across the stored pamphlets on one side. 

“This is incredible, Pen.”

There is fierce pride on his face but Penelope can read the tension at the corner of his eyes. 

“Colin, what is wrong?”

“It does not matter,” he says slowly. He traces the stacks of money with a fleeting look of discomfort on his face. Penelope touches his knee. 

“You promised to talk to me.”

Colin sighs. He sits fully on the floor next to her and she joins him after covering her hideaway with the floorboard again. 

“You have money, and employment, and can defend yourself,” He says quietly. “What do you need me for?”

“Knowing that you would step in to shield me or protect me means everything,” Penelope insists. “Colin, that confidence comes from knowing I have your support. I can do so much with you being by my side.”

Penelope watches insecurity and relief battle for control in his blue eyes. She allows him his moment. Her heart lightens when he chooses to reach out and grasp her hand for support over withdrawing into himself. He sucks in two long, steadying breaths before he looks at her again.

“I apologize for allowing my insecurity to dampen this revelation,” Colin replies. “It truly is incredible what you have amassed.” 

Discomfort flickers across his face as he glances at the floorboards again. A series of thoughts crosses his face as they fall into a companionable silence. Colin squeezes her fingers and asks, “Knowing what money you have, why do you withhold from your family?”

Colin loves her, but she knows that his view of her character is contingent upon her answer to this query. She cannot blame him for his concern. After the lengths Miss Thompson was willing to go for money, any woman willing to sacrifice her integrity and family for money would undoubtedly lose his favor. 

“Although spite was part of my reasoning when Whistledown first became successful, things are more complicated now,” Penelope answers honestly. “I cannot use Whistledown funds because my family’s financial situation is precarious. It would be suspicious if I suddenly had money. It is one of the things I wished to talk to you in detail about.”

Colin does not announce his relief audibly but tension drains from his posture. They gaze at one another for a prolonged moment. His thumb rubs soothing passes along the butt of her hand. The movement both reassures her and causes her heart rate to quicken. He truly makes her body mad. 

“I will think of our options,” he responds. “I may consult Anthony. He may have some plausible ideas for us to pursue–.” Colin’s words are cut off by the sounds of the house coming to life below them. They both pause. Penelope glances at the clock on the mantle and winces when she realizes the time. 

“I must go,” Colin whispers and Penelope nods. 

He helps her stand from the floor. Penelope watches the muscles of his back move underneath the dark fabric of his shirt as he opens her window. Penelope steps close to him and peers down at the ground. They are only on the second floor, yet climbing down unnoticed seems far more dangerous than climbing up. Pulling back from the windowsill, Penelope looks at Colin. 

“Please display greater athleticism on your departure, Col.”

Colin looks shocked and then delighted at her tartness. The boyish grin that overtakes his face brings out her own smile. He coughs out a laugh, clearly amused by her impertinence. 

“We have the Green-Haversham ball tonight,” he replies. “I must descend with the greatest display of masculinity lest I injure myself.”  

“Are we to dance tonight?” Penelope asks. 

“If it were allowed we would dance every set together,” Colin answers. This man and his charm surely will be the death of her. Penelope wishes to melt into his embrace but they both know how dangerously they tempt fate.

“I have to go, darling,” he says quietly.

“I hate that you have to leave,” Penelope responds. 

Colin’s blue eyes darken with affection as he steps away from the window. Penelope gasps when his hand wraps around her fleshy hip and tugs her into his chest. 

“As do I,” he replies before he leans down and plants a deep kiss on Penelope’s mouth. She opens to him immediately, head swimming with the affection of his touch. Commotion from below them causes them to part with a smack of lips. The sound is enough to make Penelope’s nipples tighten. Colin kisses her once more before he makes his way swiftly out of the window. She watches him descend quickly and quietly, only stumbling once or twice. When he lands on the grass layering the courtyard, he looks up at her and blows a kiss. 

With a roguish wink, he turns and hastens from the Featherington courtyard. Penelope watches his form until he disappears between tall shrubbery. She misses him already. 

The ball tonight cannot come fast enough.

*********

Sneaking into Bridgerton House offers Colin a thrill he did not expect. He spent the morning flitting around his bedchamber after returning from the Featherington home. Colin forewent breakfast with the family because he knew he would be found out the moment any of his siblings spotted him. The beaming smile on his face is relentless. Spending the night with Penelope was an indescribable experience. He bedded women in the past and faffed about with the fairer sex but never spent an evening sleeping in close quarters. 

How is he to ever sleep alone again? 

Her soft breathing kept his thoughts tied to the earth. Her plush warmth and the gentle clove scent of her hair soothed his mind and body. Being close to Penelope for hours at a time lessened the frenetic pace of his thoughts and lowered his insecurity to negligible amounts. He never knew how reassuring sleeping next to someone could be. Colin feels settled in ways he never has before. 

His large canopy bed seems cavernous and cold in comparison to the soft nest of blankets he shared with Pen. Until they marry, he must accept this reality despite his displeasure. 

After hours milling around his bedchamber, unable to concentrate on anything other than his cloying affection for Penelope and his besotted feelings over her bosom, Colin leaves his room. He wears only a fresh linen shirt and trousers with brown leather suspenders. He mindlessly descends the stairs and bursts into Anthony’s study without knocking.

Anthony sits behind a stack of paperwork, scribbling with a dapper quill in one hand and drinking a steaming mug of tea. He squints up at Colin at the disturbance. Anthony, amid Viscount business, is a strange creature. Whilst focused, he is a man of few words and any interruption can be met with irritation or brusqueness. 

With only a grunt of acknowledgement for his younger brother, he returns to his business. Colin takes great joy in dragging an armchair in front of his elder brother’s desk, making a loud and disgraceful ruckus for his own amusement. When Colin noisily settles down into the chair before Anthony’s desk, he meets his brother's deeply unimpressed stare with a chortle and an impish grin. 

“I see that you are in high spirits this afternoon,” Anthony states with an eyebrow quirked in irritation at the commotion. “What brings you to my office?”

“Can I not simply wish to keep you company?” Colin muses, stretching out like a sun-warmed feline. He lounges in the chair, Anthony’s deadpan look growing deeper with each movement. 

“You skipped breaking your fast with the family and appear in my office being impertinent,” Anthony responds. “I know you well enough to sense something is afoot.”

“Brother, if you had a large amount of money you wished to invest,” Colin asks. “What would you do with it?”

A furtive look flares across Anthony’s face. After a tense moment, he places his quill down onto his desk and caps his ink pot. 

“Should I be concerned?” he asks.

“No,” Colin says, filling his glass with fresh water. Anthony does not look convinced. Colin rolls his eyes.

“Nothing nefarious is happening, brother,” he insists. “I was wondering if publishing my writing would be a good investment. The upfront cost would be significant with no publishing house to back me.”

“It might be a decent investment,” Anthony responds. “Travel books have always been rather impersonal and factual. It helps plan a grand tour, but perhaps a more personal experience shall create a new interest?”

“Would you support me?” Colin questions. “You have made no secret of your impatience with my wanderlust, brother.”

“I confess to being harsh about your impulsiveness, Colin, but that is out of concern for you,” Anthony says. “Gentlemen romanticize travel because it is a way to escape their responsibilities at home. You are three-and-twenty so I confess there is no rush to get married but I greatly wish to see you happy and settled.”

“I am happy,” Colin replies. Anthony gives him a look. “This last week notwithstanding, I am!”

“I suppose I should be pleased you have moved beyond drowning your sorrows in my fine bottles of brandy,”

“I had a nearly devastating fight with my intended,” Colin responds. “Allow me one terrible way of coping for this first occasion, Ant.”

“Was a quarrel with Penelope truly enough to render you inconsolable?” Anthony asks. His brother is accomplished at hiding his feelings, but Colin can tell that he remains concerned.

“It was difficult,” he replies. “Made worse by my own humiliation.”

“Humiliation?” Anthony responds.

“I rather thought myself useless to her,” Colin admits.

“Why in the blazes would you think yourself useless, Col?”

“Oh come off it Ant, we both know that the Ton sees me as the charming, brainless one,” Colin rebuts, good mood decreasing. “I was almost swindled of my dignity by Miss Thompson.”

“That speaks more of her character than yours,” Anthony insists. 

“Perhaps,” Colin replies, “but it is a scar I will carry forever.”

“Surely Penelope has not said such things to you?” Anthony questions, his brow furrowing deeply.

“Of course not!” Colin exclaims. “If anything, she did the utmost trying to reassure me.”

“What brought this on?”

“She is an incredible person, brother. The only reason she is not awash with money and success is because of her sex,” Colin says. “How am I to provide for such a capable woman? She did not seem to need me and I allowed my insecurity to nearly destroy our relationship.”

“Insecurities can create a self-fulfilling prophecy, brother,” Anthony answers. “Do not allow your fears to dictate how you believe you deserve to be loved.”

“It is easy for you to say.” 

“I beg your pardon?”

“You have a purpose. You do not lack responsibilities!” Colin replies. “Perhaps, you take a trip with your wife but you always have the management of the estate to come back to.”

“You seem to have minimal understanding of what it is like being me,” Anthony says quietly. “Managing our estate can feel like being shackled to the ground.”

“I have found that aimless wandering and infinite time with nothing to tether you can feel like its own hellscape,” Colin responds. “It is unsettling to know that you could disappear and people would not even notice.”

“Is that what you believe?” Anthony sounds horrified. His tone draws Colin’s gaze away from the window and to his brother. Anthony is equal parts reserved with his emotions and emotive beyond imagining. The look on his face openly displays his dismay. “That no one would notice if you were gone?”

“I serve little purpose, brother. Most people of the Ton find me charming but my status as a Bridgerton is the only thing saving me from a life of invisibility,” Colin answers. “I do not know how Ben is content with a life of drifting. I want more , brother.”

“I did not realize you were unaware of how deeply your presence is felt while you are away. You are missed when you are not home, Colin,” Anthony says. “It may not mean much since I am naught but your elder brother, but I promise that if you were to disappear, it would be noticed.”

“Thank you, Ant,” Colin responds.

There is a moment of shared affectionate quiet between the two as Anthony leans back into his chair and Colin drinks his water in contemplation. 

“As for your pursuit of something more, I cannot steer you directly towards a field of employment seeing as high society men are not supposed to have menial jobs,” Anthony muses aloud.

“It is something I shall continue to ruminate on. I very well may pursue publishing by the end of the season,” Colin replies. “Have we discovered any way to help the Featheringtons?”

“Not as of yet. Beyond charity, there is no feasible way to assist them outside marriage,” Anthony says. “Giving them money would cause more social disgrace for them even if it were a financial boon.”

“Could I say that I gifted them money but it was inappropriate to declare as such because Pen and I were not yet engaged?”

Anthony’s alarm is immediate. “Let us not be hasty and foolish brother,” he warns. “We shall ponder this problem and design a solution that will not ruin us both.”

********

As it is every year, the theme of the Green-Haversham ball is the color green. It is not a particularly innovative theme for a winter ball, but both ladies are absurdly fond of verdant shades. Lady Green and Lady Haversham are sisters who married well in society. They live adjacent to one another and successfully made their combined ball an annual affair. 

Thankfully, both Lady Green and Lady Haversham possess impeccable taste in decor despite the simplicity of their theme. Tonight’s festivities are no different. 

Greenery tracks along the walls, the stone columns and threads through every dark corner of the ballroom. Fresh flowers and vines create a stunning centerpiece for the room. Although the decorations meet the assigned green requirement, the aesthetic remains demure and fanciful without being overbearing. 

Penelope strides into the room on her mother’s arm. Her Mama wears a gown made of emerald velvet and a feathered headpiece. Within her colorful wardrobe, the look is almost muted. It took twenty minutes to convince her Mama that her dress did not require any additional feathers or sequins. Penelope is sure that her mother feels plain and homely in this simple attire but Penelope thinks she looks beautiful without all the extra flash and flare. 

Her lady’s maid outfitted Penelope in a form-fitting silk gown with an empire bust, long sleeves, and chiffon skirts adding an element of whimsy to her gown. It is a seasonally appropriate evergreen color, perfect for a winter time ball. Rae curled her hair into a cascade of spirals with sprigs of greenery twined throughout. The bustline of this dress is more daring than usual. It seems to garner Penelope more attention than she knows what to deal with.

Before she loses her confidence, Penelope spots Eloise’s lithe form striding quickly in her direction. Her best friend is a vision in her sage green dress, embroidered with dark vines around her bust and stretching along her skirts. The color offsets the dark brown of her curls and makes her bright blue eyes gleam under the candlelight. 

“Pen!” Eloise greets. 

“Good evening, El,” Penelope replies. Her friend all but snatches her bodily away from her Mama’s side. Eloise never lacks enthusiasm with her greetings. 

“Thank goodness, you are here,” Eloise says. “I am positively starved for intelligent conversation.”

“The ball began not even half an hour ago!” Penelope replies. “How can you be in dire straits already?”

“My brothers were all sequestered away doing things men do, I suppose. Mama spent the day over at Daphne and Simon’s home. Hy and Frannie were trying to figure out some duet in the music room, so I was left to my own devices all day!” Eloise responds. The melodrama in her tone amuses Penelope endlessly. 

Eloise tucks her elbow into the crook of Penelope’s as she bodily steers them toward the gathering of chestnut haired Bridgertons across the ballroom. Penelope glances over her shoulder to her Mama, who simply waves her approval before she is caught by Lady Armstrong and her fresh-faced debutante daughter named Abigail. 

Penelope turns her attention back to her best friend. Eloise wears a petulant scowl as she continues speaking, “And then I arrive here with all my siblings only for Mama to send me directly into the arms of a philistine!”

“How unfortunate,” Penelope answers dryly. Her tone makes Eloise narrow her eyes in irritation, which causes Penelope to giggle instead of cowering. Eloise looks put out at her response. 

“Who were you cursed to suffer with this time?” she asks. Eloise has long legs and Penelope does not. Her friend’s strides force Penelope to quicken her steps as they come within earshot and eyesight of the Bridgertons. 

“He was such a bore that I do not even remember his name,” Eloise groans. Penelope laughs at her friend. “I asked him his thoughts on–”

“ Eloise Bridgerton !” Violet interrupts sternly. Both Penelope and Eloise freeze at the hissed whisper. Penelope and El glance up at the Bridgerton dowager. Bright red spots of anger are visible on Violet’s cheeks. Eloise’s mama appears livid as she hastens over to them. 

Eloise finds herself snatched into the Bridgerton cluster by Violet; Penelope pulled along because Eloise keeps their elbows locked together.

“Did you ask a gentleman if he would care more about politics if said knowledge affected the growth of his manhood?” Violet demands, lips pressed tight together with disapproval.

“It is a valid question!” Eloise retorts.

“You do not even know what manhood is!” Violet snaps back.

“I have heard enough to know that whatever it is; it is of great importance to men,” is Eloise’s tart reply. 

Penelope hears Colin’s laugh before she sees him. She moves her gaze from Eloise, past a furious Violet and spots him next to Anthony and Kate. He looks utterly dashing with an evergreen coat, a light gray and dark gray vest and a silk cravat.

Anthony wears a severe expression on his face but the twinkle of laughter in his eyes gives away his amusement. Benedict is beside himself, leaning against Kate’s side and snickering. The Duke’s eyebrows sit high on his forehead as he watches the rapid back-and-forth argument between Eloise and Violet. The Duchess rests against Colin’s arm, nearly breathless with laughter. It seems Daphne’s formidable social graces cannot withstand witnessing a ridiculous argument between her younger sister and her Mama. 

Her best friend releases their elbows as she and her mother engage in a whispered argument about her behavior. Per usual, El is resolutely unrepentant about insulting another dull high society gentleman. Eloise flaps about angrily as they move further away from Penelope’s side. Violet wears a particularly murderous expression in her sharp blue eyes. Violet appears one pithy comment away from pinching Eloise’s ear; propriety be damned. 

Penelope would fear for her best friend’s continued health but her gaze is caught by her rather handsome gentleman instead. Colin’s bright laughter tapers off as his eyes meet her own. Heat flares in Penelope’s stomach as his dark blue eyes fasten onto her person.

Penelope feels her heartbeat quicken as he brazenly rakes his eyes from the top of her head and down to her chiffon skirts. He is nowhere near touching her but the phantom feeling of his body pressed against her own overtakes her senses. The memory of their shared slumber makes her blood run hot. One night laying next to him is not enough. 

Penelope craves more – of his touch, his kiss, his everything. 

Penelope watches as Colin leans down to press a kiss to the crown of Daphne’s head before he steps away from his sister. In response, Penelope straightens her posture and lifts her chin in his direction. Despite how her knees wobble as she stands under Colin’s full attention, she meets his dark blue eyes with her own. The slow grin that overtakes his features is flirtatious, mischievous and unbelievably alluring. 

Colin approaches her with confident strides. Penelope holds her ground and waits for him to reach her side. 

“Penelope,” Colin greets, extending a hand for her gloved one. 

Penelope gives him her own once-over, being slow with her gaze as she studies him from his chestnut curls down to his perfectly-shined boots. His broad shoulders and strong thighs cause a nervous, fluttery feeling to rise in her stomach but she refuses to halt her appraisal. By the time she has finished looking him over, her cheeks burn with a shyness that is reflected in Colin’s red-tipped ears. 

Penelope quirks her eyebrow at him before placing her hand into his. Colin bows in her direction and presses a kiss to her knuckles. 

“Might you honor me with a dance or two this evening?”

“Only two ?” Penelope quips. “You do not wish for the husband-hungry Mamas to clutch their bosoms this evening?”

Colin appears delighted by her sass. 

“There is only one lady I would like to clutch her bosom in response to my actions,” Colin replies, eyes intent. “To both our misfortune provoking such a reaction in public would be rather unseemly.” 

“Unseemly by high society, I am sure,” Penelope says. “Though I am certain that the lady you are intent upon would welcome your actions most fervently, even if said actions are more audacious than any respectable lady should ever encourage.”

“For such an innocent young woman,” Colin answers, stepping fully into her space to prevent his voice from carrying beyond the two of them. “Your statement carries quite heavy and dangerous implications. Such encouragement might tempt a gentleman to forget his typical restraint and adherence to propriety.” 

Tension builds in the negligible space between their bodies. Penelope wants to sink into the masculine cedar scent wafting off his clothing. The heat of him combined with the dark look in his eyes feels all-encompassing and intoxicating. She wavers into his space before a loud throat clearing startles them both. 

Penelope blinks at Lord Bridgerton, uncertain when he walked so close to her and Colin. From the corner of her eye, she spots Benedict slap the back of Colin’s head. He glares at his elder brother but moves to a respectable distance. Penelope forcibly hides her displeasure at how far away he now stands. 

“Your dance card, Pen?” he asks. 

Without a word, Penelope gives him her hand back. He makes quick work of signing his name on three lines to Penelope’s absolute delight. Lord Bridgerton rolls his eyes at his younger brother but offers no protest. 

Penelope pulls her hand back to curtsy. 

“Would you like a refreshment?” he questions. “The first dance should start soon but I can retrieve a cool drink for you.”

“That would be lovely, Colin,” Penelope answers. 

Colin’s resulting wink makes her giggle but he strides off towards the west end of the ballroom. Penelope follows him with her gaze until his form disappears beyond a gaggle of young ladies. When she turns back around, she is met with several sets of amused eyes. The attention causes her blush to flare up immediately. 

“I take it that the two of you have reconciled?” Eloise asks, tucking her arm back through Penelope’s. 

“Uh,” Penelope stutters knowing she cannot ever tell Eloise how that reconciliation came to fruition. Eloise would go mad if she knew the details. “Yes. All is forgiven. Being at odds was awful.”

“When did you get a chance—” Eloise’s question fades as she stares at something over Penelope’s shoulder. Penelope sees curious looks appear on several Bridgerton features as a throat clears behind her.

“Miss Featherington?” An unexpected yet familiar voice pipes up from behind her. Penelope turns with a confused but pleasant half smile on her face as she greets Lord Fife. Her confusion grows as she spots Lord Wilkes just beyond Lord Fife, both of them peering at her with interest. 

“Lord Fife,” Penelope replies politely. “Lord Wilkes.” She curtsies in greeting and both men bow shallowly in response. 

“Might you do me the honor of a dance this evening?”

“A dance?” she repeats blankly. Certainly, she must have misheard him. Why would Fife, of all members of high society, request a dance from her? 

“Yes,” Fife responds. 

Penelope blinks at him before she glances over at Eloise. Her best friend appears similarly taken aback. Lord Fife has been openly contemptuous in his disregard of Penelope. His unkind words and relentless mockery have frequently inspired Cressida’s insults. 

“Are you declining my offer, Miss Featherington?” he asks slowly. 

Penelope stares at him, alarmed and affronted. The temptation to say yes is powerful, but even Eloise knows the implications of her outright rejecting him when she remains unengaged or married. Her best friend squeezes her forearm and Penelope resists the urge to narrow her eyes at Fife in suspicion.

“Of course not, my Lord,” Penelope replies, her tone verging on deep unfriendliness. 

She offers him her dance card. She watches as a slimy half-smirk appears on his features. Penelope greatly wishes to plant a facer in the center of his smug expression. She cannot fathom his or Lord Wilkes’ motivations but neither of their expressions inspire comfort. 

Penelope watches balefully as Lord Fife claims one dance and then Lord Wilkes swiftly follows. She offers them the barest curtsy possible and then two men depart. 

“What in the blazes are those two planning?” Eloise mutters. 

“I would like to know that also,” Penelope responds.

She tugs her dance card into her side, feeling upset that there are still three dances unclaimed. Insecurity rears its head with a tug of discomfort in her ribcage. Who else is in on whatever the devil Fife and Wilkes have planned? 

Looking up from the parchment tied around her wrist, Penelope meets the sympathetic eyes of Kate and Daphne. Violet has a small apologetic frown on her face. It is increasingly obvious that all the ladies in her immediate vicinity understand the precarious position she was in. Penelope would suffer extremes to be openly in Colin’s arms. Until they are wed or engaged, she will have to abide by society’s expectations.

Before her discomfort can grow, Anthony appears next to her. She looks up at him. His blue eyes are kind and understanding. Few people witness the softer side of Anthony. He is a no-nonsense business man and head of his family. Penelope considers it a privilege to know his kindness. 

“Penelope, might I have one of your dances?” he asks. Eloise chokes on air and Penelope’s mouth falls open. When her silence continues, he raises an amused eyebrow at her and motions toward her dance card. 

“Uh, of course,” Penelope stutters, offering her wrist to him.

It is unreal to watch Anthony Bridgerton sign her dance card. He writes his name in clean script under Lord Fife’s scrawl before he releases her wrist. Anthony has barely stepped away when Daphne’s husband approaches. Her shock continues as the Duke of Hastings signs her card next, and finally Benedict takes her last available slot. 

Glimpsing her filled dance card, the gratitude she feels overwhelms her. She looks up at the Bridgertons surrounding her with a tremulous smile. Eloise squeezes her elbow. Penelope doesn’t get an opportunity to thank them aloud before Colin returns with several glasses of lemonade balanced precariously in his arms. 

“I brought refreshments for all the ladies,” he announces. 

“Who could you possibly be trying to charm, brother?” Benedict asks, winking. “I have never seen you cart four glasses of lemonade to us before.”

“I am always a gentleman,” Colin replies with a sniff as he hands Daphne and Kate a glass each. “It is called being thoughtful.”

“Thoughtful,” Benedict mutters as Colin barely looks at Eloise when he hands her a glass. He does not appear impressed by the tight hold her best friend has on her. He stands in front of Penelope and places the drink in her hand. 

“Your drink, Pen,” Colin says quietly. Penelope grants him an appreciative smile. 

“Mawkish sounds more appropriate,” Anthony replies. His words earn him a soft laugh from Benedict. Penelope tunes out their teasing. 

“You do not appear mauled,” Penelope says, sipping on her lemonade. “Were you able to avoid all the young ladies?”

“Ignore is a more fitting verb,” Colin responds. “Several attempted to draw me into conversation. I advised them frankly that the drink for my lady was growing unpalatable due to their delay.” 

“You jest!”

“I do not,” he says. “I expect grumblings from at least five young ladies to appear in Whistledown should she ever continue publishing.” 

“Five?” Penelope asks. She cannot determine if she is speechless from his insinuation about her publishing again or the reality of five young women trying to get his attention in the short period of time he was gone. 

“It would have been six but one young Miss accidentally tripped over Lady Danbury’s cane,” Colin replies, amused. Knowing what she does of Lady Danbury, Penelope can only assume that the incident was intentional on the spirited elder’s behalf. Colin seems to know as such too. His impish smile is quite telling. 

“It never ceases to amaze me how simpering ladies behave when they encounter a handsome bachelor,” Eloise says. It bursts the flirtatious bubble Penelope and Colin fell into. Colin glances at his sister. 

“You admit that I am handsome?” he questions. El rolls her eyes and Penelope laughs. 

“That was an insult, brother.”

“It was a compliment for me,” Colin replies. “As a male, hearing any sort of kind word from your mouth is worthy of excitement.” 

“I would not openly scorn the male sex if they were not pathetic,” Eloise answers. 

“Pathetic is a subjective assessment, El,” Penelope replies. “An assessment of yours that appears quite broad, indeed.” 

Colin laughs and Eloise wrinkles her nose. “Is this where the traitorous behavior begins?” she asks. “Are you advocating for my brother over me?”

“Perhaps,” Penelope responds with a shrug of her shoulders. “It truly depends on which of you are incorrect within the argument. I will never blindly take sides.” 

“I can accept those terms,” Eloise states. “As long as you know that I will likely be correct more often than I am not.” Colin rolls his eyes at his sister and Penelope laughs again. Penelope spots the quartet setting up in the corner of the room and she finishes the last of her drink. 

Colin sweeps the empty glass from her hand without her saying a word. He finds a nearby servant to hand the glass to before he returns. 

“Might we venture to the dance floor, Pen?”

“Lead me away, Colin,” she answers. Colin takes her hand and tugs her away from Eloise’s side. He sweeps her out onto the dance floor. 

********

The swish and sway of Penelope’s chiffon skirts are easy to follow as her brother leads her best friend away from her side. Eloise briefly considers being resentful of her brother sweeping Penelope into this courtship dance, but she remembers the display of love she witnessed only last week. Shockingly, she finds herself with a soft heart as they reconnect. She stares after them in wistful fondness before her eyes are caught by a tall figure standing across the ballroom. 

Cressida’s ornate braided hair and striking figure are as hard to miss as the daring dress sleeves she wears with tonight’s gown. Eloise could never understand Cressida’s fashion. Each dress seems more like untouchable artwork than appealing to the eyes of gentlemen. Part of her wonders if it is a form of rebellion for Cressida; her Mama and Papa rarely appear pleased with her choice in clothing.

Eloise stands torn between action and inaction. Their previous conversation was hardly pleasant. Eloise recognized hostility and finality in her words. Approaching Cressida after their less than joyful interaction last week may not be a wise choice, but Eloise is as stubborn as she is intelligent. Watching Penelope and Colin disappear into the crowded dance floor, Eloise hedges her bets on Cressida possessing too much pride in her social graces to completely ignore an open appeal. 

She hands her tepid glass of lemonade to a nearby footman and she moves swiftly through the crowd along the edges of the ballroom; staying out of Cressida’s vision until she is too close for the blonde to turn away politely.

“Cressida?” Eloise asks. “Might we speak?”

Cressida’s shoulders tense. Her blue eyes flare with irritation and malcontent. 

“Speak of what, Eloise?” she asks curtly. “I thought I was perfectly clear during our last exchange of words.”

Cressida’s hard stare challenges Eloise to pretend ignorance. They both know Cressida expressed herself perfectly. Eloise simply chose to try again despite the lines drawn harshly between them.  

“You have every right to be upset with me. I wish to help if I can,” Eloise says, quiet but earnest. “We do not have to be close friends for me to care about your future.”

Cressida releases a bitter laugh. The sound makes Eloise’s stomach tighten in discontent. She did not expect this conversation to go well, but the extent of emotional damage she caused is far deeper than Eloise initially realized. 

“ Now , you wish to assist,” Cressida replies. Her delicate features twist into a derisive sneer as her blue eyes grow cold. “It is strange that you seem to only ever notice other people’s suffering when it directly impacts your personal comfort. You rarely think of people outside of yourself because there are few things you are required to sacrifice.”

“I confess to being oblivious,” Eloise insists, stepping in Cressida’s path. “I am truly sorry for my behavior!”

“Your apology is worthless to me as is your company. The Bridgerton name might be powerful but your vitriol toward marriage and society are renown in the Ton. I cannot find a suitable husband and befriend a person who besmirches all my options without compunction,” Cressida replies, her voice a harsh whisper. Her winter blue eyes flit around the room before she lowers her voice even further. Eloise leans in to be able to hear her clearly. 

“Whether hurting me was due to ignorance or purposefully done, I have little need to be mistreated by another person in my life,” Cressida states. “No matter how we parse our options, your acquaintance hinders my chances.”

“Cressida,” Eloise begins in protest but she pauses when she notices the flare of desperation flash across Cressida’s blue eyes. Eloise shuts her mouth, finally paying attention to the stiff postures of people nearby. It is obvious they are trying to eavesdrop on her and Cressida’s disagreement. Understanding dawns on Eloise. 

All of the conflict and desperation in Cressida’s hissed words and demeanor finally make sense. Every person in high society knows her radical views on how the fairer sex should be treated. Openly befriending Eloise would be a challenge to norms that Cressida seeks to fit into. That may have been acceptable to Cressida over the summer but Eloise’s person and reputation only reduce her chances of finding a husband. 

Swallowing her pride, Eloise relents. She steps away from Cressida, holding her hands clasped together in front of her body; a stance of both submission and respect. 

“You are right,” she says. “I wish you luck in your search, Cressida.” 

For a moment, the yearning for companionship overcomes Cressida’s increasingly arduous search for a suitable husband. Her eyes tell a conflicted tale of sorrow and desperation. Eloise attempts to offer comfort to her through an imploring gaze. Without another word, Cressida sweeps away quickly. Eloise watches her leave, feeling the crushing sense of failure seep into her chest. 

Her rapid descent into self-loathing is interrupted by a small hand tucking into the crease of her elbow. Eloise looks to her right and spots Daphne standing next to her. Daphne wears a lily green gown with chiffon skirts, a pearl-beaded neckline and her chestnut hair tucked into a pearl-lined circlet with a riot of curls cascading down her back. 

Her elder sister is resplendent. The curve of her belly adds to her femininity. She glows under the candle light.

“Sister,” Eloise greets quietly. 

Daphne gives her an encouraging smile as she tugs Eloise away from the lingering disquiet of her altercation with Cressida. As Daphne steers her back toward where the rest of their family stands, her sister presses their temples together. 

“It is my last social event for the year, possibly the season. Let us be merry, sister!” Daphne says. “Your grievance with Cressida will certainly remain for another day.”

“I find it ridiculous that expectant mothers are forced out of society as they approach birth,” Eloise responds. She does not wish to delve into the complicated situation between Cressida and herself. 

“There are many aspects of high society which I disagree with,” Daphne replies, allowing the redirect of conversation. “Leaving behind the responsibilities of attending numerous social engagements while carrying a baby is not one I find fault in.”

“You love balls,” Eloise protests. Daphne has always expressed fondness for such occasions. Has motherhood changed her character as such? 

“I certainly do when I am not expectant. Standing and dancing for such lengthy amounts of time is exhausting,” Daphne answers. Eloise stares at her sister askance. Daphne catches the disbelieving tilt of her eyebrows and rolls her eyes.

“Do not give me that incredulous look, El,” she states. “Do you have any idea how uncomfortable it is to squeeze into these garments? Positively everything chafes and I constantly need the chamber pot.”

Eloise finds her sister’s put out expression amusing. Daphne squeezes her arm affectionately before leaning in to whisper, “I look forward to sitting at home with a plate of grapes and cheese in my nightgown.” 

“Grapes and cheese, sister?” Eloise chortles. Her snort is disgraceful but it makes Daphne giggle behind her free hand. 

"I might even have some crisp bread to go with it,” she replies conspiratorially. 

“How adventurous of you, Daph,” Eloise says, grinning.

“I live to surprise, El.”

********

Parched and blissful, Penelope finds herself on the edge of the dance floor waiting for Colin to return with a fresh beverage for her. Although she intended to gather a drink for herself, Colin’s dark blue eyes looked deeply offended at the assumption. She allowed him to escort her to the side of the room to wait as he departed to get her a lemonade. Penelope fans herself idly, hoping the moving air would cool her flushed face. Colin’s adept handling of her on the dance floor made her blood run hot. Being pressed close to him and swept up in his energy and scent made Penelope dizzy with affection. 

She remains consumed by her memories of their shared dance and jumps when she hears a voice from just behind her say, “Consider me quite impressed, Miss Featherington.”

Startled, she turns her head to the side. Penelope’s eyebrows raise in intrigue and delight as she spots the widowed lady standing next to her. “Lady Danbury?” she asks in greeting. Penelope turns her body to face the matron, snapping her fan closed as she shifts.

Lady Danbury appears regal as always. Her posture perfect, clothes refined and ornate, and her hair slicked back into a handsome updo. She commands respect with her presence alone. It is a skill Penelope wishes she possessed. 

“I thought your victory this season lay with stepping from the shadows,” Lady Danbury says, folding her two hands over the top of her cane. The elder wears a small smile and her brown eyes twinkle under the candle lit chandeliers. Her dress is a deep emerald green that brings out the honeyed undertones in her brown skin. 

“Your mind has changed?” Penelope asks. 

“I rather think your true accomplishment is learning not to fear the shadows themselves,” Lady Danbury responds. “There is something rather powerful about a young woman accepting their individuality.”

Penelope hums. “Being different is isolating but I am discovering it is not a negative thing altogether,” she admits. Despite Lady Whistledown being a heady secret, standing apart from the crowd forced her to develop an actual personality; something that seems to be quite a feat. 

“It is far easier to conform than it is to stand apart,” Lady Danbury answers. “I would know.”

“You are a respected figure, Lady Danbury,” Penelope replies. “The Queen reveres your friendship.”

Lady Danbury releases a loud laugh; brazen and guttural. Heads turn at the sound and quickly turn away when they recognize the source of it. 

“I demanded respect because I failed to fit into the suffocating box of society’s expectations for the fairer sex. It is simpler to terrify and outwit those in power,” Lady Danbury states. Her tone is equal parts impish and imploring. “Playing the political game required finesse and great sacrifice. I earned my place and I am unashamed of what it took me to do so.” 

“It must have been lonely being in a position you have earned but being the only one of your sex standing in the crowd,” Penelope muses. A deep chasm of emotions swell in Lady Danbury’s brown eyes. Penelope recognizes a kindred spirit when she sees one. It is the first time Penelope looks beyond the hardened exterior and commanding aura to see a woman who survived a turbulent life. She must have been extraordinarily lonely, indeed.

“Lonely for a while, this is true. It was worth the sacrifice,” the elder admits ruefully. Her eyes become guarded once more. Penelope considers it a privilege to have witnessed Agatha Danbury being vulnerable. She knows it was not an accident nor a coincidence. 

“Seeing bright young women buck against what our society limits them to is more than I ever dreamed,” Lady Danbury continues. Penelope blinks at her and the older lady’s eyebrows twitch higher in amusement. 

“Me?” Penelope sputters. “I am only finding my footing!”

“Finding your footing is a rare journey for a young woman to take. I may have some literature and advice for a young woman establishing her own path.”

“Advice, Lady Danbury?”

“I would like you to attend tea at Danbury House in the coming weeks,” the matron responds. Penelope forgets herself in that moment as her mouth hangs open in absolute shock at the sudden invitation. Tea at Danbury House?! It is not something offered often, and typically, only to Violet Bridgerton.

“Close your mouth, dear,” Lady Danbury says. Penelope obeys immediately, her face burning red with a blush. “Are you accepting my invitation or not?”

“Of course, Lady Danbury!” Penelope replies. “It would be my honor.”

“Excellent, I shall send an invitation to Featherington House after reviewing my calendar.”

********

Colin stands to the side of the ballroom, agape. He watches his former friend escort a visibly uncomfortable Penelope to the dance floor. After signing her dance card, Colin never thought to look at it again to see if anyone else requested a turn around the floor. 

“What is Fife playing at?” His hostility bleeds into his voice, causing Anthony, Benedict and Simon to peer at him with varying degrees of surprise in their expressions. The three of them exchange looks before Benedict decides to state the obvious.

“I do believe he asked her to dance,” he says slowly.

“Clearly,” Colin responds, gritting his teeth. “I am asking why did he ask her to dance?”

“That is a rather dangerous line of questioning, Col,” Simon replies. Benedict does not utter a verbal response but the look in his eyes agrees with Simon.

“Do you not think Penelope is deserving of suitors?” Anthony asks, unimpressed.

Colin realizes how badly his statements could be interpreted. “Are you mad?” he asks. “Of course, I do!” 

“Then why are you in a strop?” Benedict questions. 

“Fife has shown no romantic inclinations towards Penelope in the past. He has outright ridiculed her several times!” Colin replies. “He is more deserving of her ire than her attention.” 

“Ohhhh what is this now?” Anthony asks; an impish grin stretching across his face. 

Simon appears equally smug as he says, “I do detect something peculiar in the air.”

“As do I,” Benedict adds. “Can we marvel at this fine specimen of discomposure, gents?”

“What in the blazes are you three on about?”

“Jealousy, brother,” Anthony sing-songs. 

“His eyes do look rather green under the haze of envy he is experiencing,” Benedict says with a chortle. He throws an arm around Simon’s shoulders and the two of them share muffled snickers. Colin rolls his eyes when Anthony joins in on the laughter.

“You are making her nervous, Col,” Simon observes.

Colin narrows his eyes at the man standing far too close to Penelope. “It is he that should be concerned.”

“Well, they are dancing together . You glaring in their direction could be for either of them,” Benedict replies, motioning towards the pair on the crowded dance floor. “All that closeness makes it difficult to discern who the victim of your hostility is.”

“Yes, very close indeed,” Anthony hums. “Fife does not appear to be leaving much room for the protection of the Lord between them.”

Colin feels his upper lip curl in distaste. His expression has Benedict barking out a laugh and Anthony chuckling to the point of tears. Simon recovers from his laughter before either of his elder brothers can pull themselves together. “You are not truly concerned that her attention shall stray, are you?” he asks, brown eyes still deeply amused.

Colin grunts in acknowledgement. “I simply do not like her dancing with Fife,” he responds with an indignant sniff. 

“By the look of her dance card, Lord Wilkes has taken a dance too,” Anthony pipes up between chuckles. “Perhaps, you shall be less jealous then, brother?”

His brothers stare at him openly and Colin cannot control his frown. 

“I do believe his expression says he shall dislike that just as much,” Benedict loudly whispers. It sets their hysterics off once again. Simon tries (and fails) to keep some decorum but the wheezing laughter from Anthony and Benedict cracks his composure.

“I never would have taken you for a jealous man,” Simon quips.

Anthony wipes tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes as he says, “I rather think possessive is a better word.”

“Do they not imply the same things?” Simon asks.

“One is far more socially acceptable than the other,” Benedict answers. 

“Did Lord Wilkes truly ask her for a dance?”

“He did,” Anthony states. “He seemed especially interested in dancing the Reel with her.”

Colin snatches Benedict’s drink from his hand. 

“That is my drink, brother,” Benedict states, wholly unamused by having his beverage pilfered. 

“It is now mine,” Colin says before he shoots it back. His brothers stare at him with varying degrees of amusement and concern.

“I thought we passed your era of drinking away feelings?” Simon questions. 

“We have,” Colin replies honestly. Tension drains from Anthony’s shoulders and Benedict releases a relieved sigh much to Colin’s consternation. “I needed a couple ounces of liquid courage to keep me from allowing my possessiveness, as you all call it, to overtake my good sense.”

Benedict looks at Anthony when he says, “At the very least, he is self aware.”

“You try having Mother tell you off about being a drunkard,” Colin scoffs. “See how you respond afterwards.” All three men wince in near unison.

“She even insinuated that I would be unfit as a husband for Penelope were I to become beholden to a vice!” Colin exclaims. His Mother certainly knew how to pierce a man’s ego with words alone. 

“She is rarely ever wrong, your Mother,” Simon responds dryly.

“She is your mother now as well, Simon,” Anthony adds, clapping his brother-in-law on the shoulder. A small smile curves along the corners of Simon’s mouth in response. He appears quietly pleased about the reminder that his family has grown exponentially since his marriage to Daphne. He has siblings and maternal love he never truly got to experience before.

“Why are these men intent on asking her to dance now?” Colin asks. “Our courtship has been announced!”

“If it soothes your anxieties, Penelope does not appear to want to dance with these men,” Benedict replies, nudging Colin’s shoulder in reassurance.

“Then why does she?”

Anthony gives him a look. “You know very well that a young lady cannot say no to an eligible gentleman if she is unwed or not engaged.”

“That is a distasteful expectation,” Colin mutters.

Simon adds, “If she does say no to one gentleman, she must turn away all other dance offers, including yours.” 

“Perish the thought,” Colin replies. 

“Seems there is an easy solution to this issue,” Benedict drawls, throwing an affectionate arm across Colin’s shoulders. He peers at his elder brother in curiosity. 

“What solution would that be?”

“Ask her to marry you,” Benedict whispers. Colin sputters.  

********

Colin barely allows Lord Fife to bow in farewell to Penelope after their dance before he takes her hand and whisks her away. Her laughter is immediate as he twirls her under his arm and into an impromptu waltz. 

“You seem quite eager to be on the dance floor,” Penelope says. Her red curls bounce as he moves her into a three-step turn, steering her past men and women of the Ton. She follows his lead with ease; leaning into the way his hand pushes and pulls to direct her steps. The trust she has in him is heady and alluring. 

What a gift it is to be trusted so much by a woman as spectacular as Penelope. 

“Where are we going?” she asks. 

“To dance the next set,” Colin replies. 

“They have not reset their stands for the next song!” 

“It does not matter,” Colin says. “It feels good to be this close to you again.”

Colin knows it’s inappropriate but he entwines their fingers regardless. High society should consider itself lucky their intimate hand holding is the extent of his rebellion. He wishes he could tug the bodice of her gown down until her pink rosebud-shaped nipple makes another appearance. Seeing her in such disarray this morning was a blessing and a curse; his desire for her barely held at bay. 

His mouth waters at the thought of suckling her nipples until they grow tender and puffy and she would beg for his touch between her legs. She is to be the death of him, surely.

“I agree,” Penelope replies. “Is it possible to become addicted to something with only one encounter?” Her pale skin glows with a rosy blush. She appears self-conscious yet brazen concurrently. Her impish nature and unintentional seductiveness test Colin’s resolve. 

“Kissing you once made a fully enraptured man of myself, so I am inclined to say yes,” he admits. Her blue eyes widen in wonder and intrigue. Watching her lips part in surprise makes him yearn to kiss her again, until they appear kiss-swollen for all of Mayfair to see.

“Is your desire for me truly so encompassing?” she asks, surprised. 

“My love for you overwhelms my senses, Penny,” he tells her. “I lose sight of reason and propriety when we stand in close quarters.”

Colin catches her gaze and their eyes lock. They dance to silence, lost in a world that feels distant in comparison to the woman he holds in his arms. Colin is oblivious to the furtive looks, rampant gossip, and giggling around them as he leads her around the dance floor. Her eyes speak worlds into existence in his heart. He can see everything with Penelope. It is unfathomable how he managed to overlook this glorious woman for one and ten years. 

How did she bloom brilliantly without his notice? How did she write with such skill and he never noticed her talents? They spin together, lost in each other’s eyes. The only reaction Colin has when the music begins is to adjust their steps and pace to the music.

“I thought of little except you today,” she confesses. 

“What did these thoughts include?” he asks. 

“I kept remembering your hands on me, your solid weight pressed against my own, and the way I grow damp and sensitive when you kiss me,” Penelope replies quietly. “It boggles the mind that my mouth is connected to such private parts.” Her blush grows darker with each word she speaks. Colin cannot resist pulling her closer to his chest. 

“I hope you intend to educate me further on this connection you speak of,” he murmurs. 

Her blue eyes gleam with impertinence. “From what little you have shown me, I believe you shall be educating me, Mister Bridgerton.”

“You should call me by my name, Penelope,” Colin says.

“What shall you do if I do not?” she teases.

“Do you intend to ignore my request?”

“I thought you liked a woman with her own mind?” Penelope asks, eyebrow arched high in a daring line. “I never claimed I would follow instructions blindly.”

“I am beginning to realize that you have a penchant for frustrating me,” Colin replies, amused at her defiance. “Will you ever listen to my orders?”

“I certainly will; whenever you choose to lead me appropriately,” she responds tartly. 

“You wish for me to lead?”

“I wish for my husband to lead,” she emphasizes. “If you claim that is a position for yourself, then yes.”

“Very well,” Colin states. His frame tenses with confidence and surety. His hand in the small of her back presses her closer to his chest as he sweeps them into a seductive waltz. Penelope loses herself in his eyes. The ballroom feels empty around them as their gazes lock. Her chiffon skirts and red curls flare around her as they float across the wooden floor.

His fingertips press against the laces of her corset. Colin is enraptured by her smile. Their dance comes to an end and a tense moment stretches between them. She is as desperate to be kissed as he is to kiss her.

It ends when someone clears their throat gently behind Colin’s left shoulder. Colin reluctantly drops his hold on her waist and hands. He steps aside as another gentleman offers Penelope his hand. She curtsies and leaves Colin’s side with a sorrowful glance.

Watching Lord Wilkes escort a reluctant Penelope to the dance floor causes irritation to coil in the pit of Colin’s stomach. Despite their courtship announcement, Colin possesses no formal claim to Penelope’s attention. He makes quick strides toward the cluster of his family members.

Irritated, Colin snatches the glass of brandy directly from Simon’s hand. His brother-in-law looks astounded by his audacity but Colin pays him no heed. He tosses the drink back with little decorum. 

“Is this another attempt to control your impulses?” Simon questions dryly. 

“I am going for a walk in the gardens,” Colin replies, trying to tune out the sounds of the reel beginning.

Anthony frowns as he asks, “Would you like company?”

Colin shakes his head. “I shall be alright. I do not wish to make a fool of myself tonight, so I must collect my thoughts.”

Benedict shoots him a compassionate glance. “We shall keep watch of Penelope for you brother.” 

With a grateful nod at his brothers and a final glance in Penelope’s direction, Colin hastens out of the ballroom and into the Haversham gardens. 

***********

Penelope shares an uncomfortable dance with Lord Wilkes, followed by amusing interludes with Anthony, the Duke, and then a hilarious dance with Benedict, who is as much of a skilled dancer as he is a silly man. Dancing with highly social-ranked men who are proud to do so shall never be normal. The entire time she searches for Colin along the edges of the ballroom; growing increasingly concerned when she cannot find him.

After retrieving a glass of lemonade, Penelope turns to search for her intended; only for him to appear from the patio doors leading to the gardens. 

“Have you been outside this whole time?” she asks as she reaches his side. 

“I decided appreciating the beauty of the gardens better served both of us,” he responds, lifting her gloved hand to press a kiss to the back of it. 

“How so?” 

Colin hums, dropping their clasped hands between them but not letting go. “If I stared at the gardens, I would not be on the edges of the ballroom glaring at your dance partner like a jealous, immature lover.”

Penelope chokes on a sip of her drink. “You were jealous?” she asks, incredulous. “Of my dancing with Wilkes and Fife? Goodness, why?”

Colin shrugs, his self-consciousness distinctly obvious to her eyes. “I dislike seeing you dance with any man other than myself.”

“Surely you do not think I have romantic inclinations towards either of those unscrupulous men?” she questions. Colin shakes his head immediately, which lessens her concern.

“Of course not. However, I can see how they recognize your beauty after all their cruel words about you,” Colin responds. Penelope chooses to keep her thoughts about him having been one of them only months previous to herself. “They either seek your hand or wish to incense me after I gave them the cut direct at the Queen’s ball.”

“How flattering, I suppose,” Penelope surmises. “Much to their misfortune, there is only one man who I wish to appreciate my beauty. He is the only man who I ever wish to touch me in such a way.”

Colin sucks in a breath and releases it slowly. “You cannot say such enticing things in a public forum, Pen.”

“What other choice is left? We cannot abscond into close quarters now,” Penelope flirts. “Your gaze has been positively salacious and barely shy of indecent.”

Colin’s eyes darken as he steps forward into her space. Penelope holds her ground. “Is my gaze salacious or is that the way you feel when I gaze upon you?” he asks.

“Is the full force of your desire present when you look at me?” Penelope replies.

Colin’s statement of, “Absolutely not,” is abrupt and intense. 

“Colin?” she asks, afraid that she has offended him. 

“If the fullness of my desire for you were to be on display, our families would all but demand a special license for marriage,” Colin states. “If I could remove the clothing from your body with my eyes alone, you would be stripped bare before me at this moment. I would worship every inch of your soft skin and elicit every sigh of pleasure I could.”

Penelope stares at him, enraptured and flushed. He steps away from her, looking pained and wild in the eyes.

“I must leave before I act on my impulses and ruin us both,” he says, dropping her hand and straightening the bottom of his waistcoat.

Penelope protests, “I do not wish for you to leave.”

“I must,” Colin responds, already moving around her towards the exit. “I shall call on you tomorrow, my love.”

Penelope watches his hasty strides and says, “Colin, please.” He stops and turns back to face her. The look in his eyes is electric. He looks over her figure openly and the scrutiny makes her shiver. 

“My will to resist is in tatters, Penny. If I stay, I will ravage you before God and country,” he whispers hotly. “You deserve a ring on your finger and my family name before I do so.” 

Colin presses a firm kiss to her gloved hand before he turns and exits the room. Penelope watches him disappear into a crowd of gentlemen. She follows his quickly trodden path at a slow pace until she reaches the doors leading to the driveway. 

Colin stands at the end of the drive, his hands at his sides. She could let him depart. Good sense would mean allowing him to leave and preserving her reputation. Her heart demands otherwise. She loves this man. She cares little about what anyone else has to say. 

She hears the carriage wheels rolling over the pavement; spots him lift a hand in greeting to the carriage driver and the waiting footmen. He is the only one leaving the ball at such an early hour. Penelope watches him round the broadside of the carriage until she can no longer see his tall frame. 

She hastens her way outside with no further thought. She barely keeps herself from running in her heeled slippers. She hotfoots it past a surprised footman and moves to stand on the other side of the carriage, hidden from the front of Haversham House.

“Colin, wait,” she says. Colin is halfway into the carriage interior when he freezes. He pulls back to glance at her in shock.

“Penelope, what in the blazes are you doing out here?” he asks, placing his foot back down onto the cobblestone. Her frame is hidden by the broadside of the carriage. The Bridgerton footmen avert their gazes as Colin steps into her direction, casting furtive glances into the driveway and back towards the Haversham estate. 

“I do not wish for you to leave.”

“Sweetheart,” Colin sighs. “We have already discussed why I must. My impulses are barely kept at bay as it is. I do not wish to impose upon you–”

“It is not an imposition,” Penelope protests. 

“You have no understanding of the unholy ways I wish to consume you, Penelope,” Colin responds, his voice deep with intent. The sound is enough to make her breasts ache. “It is not right for a gentleman to have such thoughts towards an unwed lady. I will not ruin you nor will I do you the disservice of touching you without us being engaged.”

“What if I do not wish for you to be a gentleman right now?”

“You cannot say such things, Pen,” Colin groans. He looks heavenward, visibly aggrieved. The redness of his ears grows distinct as he rolls his shoulder to loosen the tension between them.

“I can,” she argues, “and I certainly mean them.”

“Penelope, you need to return to the ballroom at once,” Colin replies firmly. His eyes stare her down; dark blue with a heat that sears down Penelope’s spine. “Before anyone notices your absence or God forbid, spots us out here with you unchaperoned.”

“If you leave, I leave with you,” she all but demands. Penelope tilts her head up to him and squares her shoulders. Her mind will not be changed. Colin’s blue eyes flare with passion and irritation at her stubborn behavior. Penelope wonders at her own brazenness. She has never before openly defied anyone, much less a man. Yet, here she stands; prepared to disobey direct instructions and turn her back on social niceties. 

Despite what Colin says being the intelligent choice, were they to be caught out here now, Penelope would be ruined anyway. Colin knows this as much as she does. He should also know that she is already ruined for him. Her heart belongs to Colin Bridgerton. She wants her body and soul to be his as well. 

“I want nothing more than to be with you Colin,” she says quietly. “I love you. I do not wish to part from you for another moment tonight.”

For a long time, the silence between the two of them is weighted and heavy. Penelope can hear the blood rushing through her veins as their eyes meet. His manners and upbringing as a gentleman of high society are at war with the carnal desire and possessiveness clear in his gaze. 

Penelope sees the moment that he gives in. The way he surrenders to his passion for her fills Penelope with a wave of love and power. This man who outweighs her and could overpower her is at her command out of sacrifice. It is a dizzying revelation. 

Colin’s blue eyes are nearly black with intent. He holds open the carriage door and offers her his hand. Penelope takes it and he assists her inside. As he steps into the carriage and sits across from her, he says, “John, we shall make a stop at Featherington House first.”

“Of course, sir.”

“And John?”

“Sir?”

“Tell the driver to take the long way there.”

From the corner of her eye, Penelope sees the footman’s eyes widen at Colin’s implications but he nods firmly. The footman leans forward to catch her eyes, a silent question present in them. She smiles at him and offers a shallow nod. The footman returns the motion before he pulls back and snaps the carriage door shut. It is wonderful to know that a servant cares as much about her safety and consent as Colin does. 

They sit in charged silence as the carriage rocks with the onboarding of the driver and footman. The rattle and shake of the carriage rolling over cobblestone fills the interior cabin. It is not until Haversham House is out of view that Colin unfastens the button holding the curtains open. 

The moment the carriage curtains close, Colin is on her. He crowds into her space, near enough that the spice of his soap fills her senses. Colin kneels before her, uncaring about dirtying his trousers on the carriage floor. His hands bracket her hips and Penelope presses their foreheads together. There is a tight moment of tension where they stare into each other's eyes. She can feel her heart race in her chest as the anticipation builds. Colin’s nostrils flare and Penelope lets her gaze drift to his lips. 

The tension snaps and Colin descends. Penelope gasps into his mouth as he kisses her. Colin plunders her senses with his taste, his scent and his touch. She feels consumed by him, which should be terrifying but it electrifies her body. 

Colin’s mouth moves slowly against her own. She can feel his passion in the depth of their kiss but he moves at a pace that she can match. His thoughtfulness makes her insides burn hotter for him. 

Colin breaks the kiss for just a moment, and she leans forward searching for him. He smiles when she lets out a petulant sound. 

“Open your mouth for me sweetheart,” he murmurs. Penelope nods and Colin presses their lips together again, tilting his head to the right. She moves her head the opposite direction and he deepens the kiss. She feels his tongue trace her bottom lip and she lets him inside. Colin kisses her deeply; twining their tongues together at a pace that makes Penelope’s entire body tense and squirm. Her body feels hot everywhere he touches her and everywhere aches for his touch. 

Colin groans into her mouth when she slides her hand to the nape of his neck, fingers tugging at his curls. His hair is so soft. The low timbre and husk of  arousal in his voice makes her center throb at the same pace of her heartbeat. 

“Colin,” she says. Colin trails his lips from her mouth to the skin under her ear. Penelope shivers at the touch. “I want more.”

Colin lets out a deep sound against her neck. She sucks in a sharp breath at the feel of his nose pushing away the sleeve of her gown. He scrapes his teeth along the sensitive flesh there and Penelope legs hitch towards his hips on reflex. 

“Col,” she says, overwhelmed. “Please?” 

She doesn’t fully understand what she is asking for but she knows that she needs something. Anything to center the burning feeling in her body. She needs some form of relief but she doesn’t know what to ask for. 

“What do you need, Penny?” He asks. His voice makes her nipples tighten against the silk of her chemise. 

“I do not know,” she replies. “I just need you to do something.” 

Penelope will beg if she must. How does one relieve these feelings? Her body prickles with sensation each time she feels the heat of his body press closer. When she feels Colin’s hands touch her thighs, she remembers how he picked her up outside of the modiste. Penelope moans and Colin swears before he pulls her hips to the edge of the bench. Her legs wrap around his waist in response and Colin dives in to kiss her again. 

Penelope feels his hard chest pressed against her aching breasts and she melts into the kiss. The heat of him from mouth to thighs soothes the fire burning in her veins. It is not enough but it helps take the edge off. They kiss open mouthed and dirty. It feels sinfully good to hear the sounds their mouths make against one another. Colin’s left hand slides from her thigh to the small of her back. He yanks her closer and Penelope groans at the sensation. 

His right hand tightens on the silk of her dress as his left drifts up over the laces of her corset into the red curls hanging behind her back. 

Penelope feels it when he tightens his fingers into her hair and pulls firmly. The loud moan she responds with is involuntary. She is aflame all over again. Her cunny tightens around nothing and she desperately wishes there was something in there for the first time. The thought makes her blush bright red. 

“Fuck,” Colin curses, before he tugs on her hair again with the same firmness. Penelope’s left hand falls onto the carriage bench as her hips swivel upward against him. She wants him closer. If only they could melt into each other then maybe he would be close enough. 

“Col,” she gasps, “What is this?” 

The way her hips surge upward make her yearn to do it again. The firmness of his waist and hips give her something to press against. It helps bank some of the aching in her body. 

“You do like that,” Colin replies. His voice is husky and dark, and his blue eyes gleam at her. “Does that feel good, sweetheart?” He tugs on her hair once more and Penelope feels the same uncontrollable reflex to grind her core against him. 

“Colin,” she moans. “Is this normal? Why does this feel so different?” 

Colin’s blue eyes turn black before he fists her hair causing her to tip her head back. His teeth scrape across her collarbone before she feels him drag open mouthed kisses and licks across the bareskin above her neckline. 

He uses his right hand to grip her thigh beneath her dress and Penelope feels her eyes roll into the back of her head. Colin grinds forward against her and Penelope gasps. She can feel her face contort in shocked pleasure as he undulates slowly in a regular rhythm. 

“Colin,” she replies, high pitched and breathy. A fire builds at the base of her spine. It feels so good and so scary that she doesn’t know whether to ask him to stop or not. Colin pulls back to look at her. Penelope shakes with stimulation. 

“Is this okay, sweetheart? Do you want me to stop?” 

“No! Please,” she responds. She will surely die if he stops whatever he is doing. Her body is on fire. “Please do not stop, Colin. Please help me. I feel so much.” 

Colin nods and before Penelope knows what’s happening, he releases her hair and uses both his hands to push the hem of her dress up to her waist. When his hands land on her bare thighs, Penelope’s skin bristles with goosebumps. His hands are large and hot against her flesh. 

Colin meets her eyes again, looking for confirmation and Penelope nods at him frantically. Their gazes lock as he leans forward. She can feel his left hand snake across her thigh under the silk of her chemise. When his hand touches the damp skin of her inner leg, Colin groans. 

“Penny,” he says, husky. “You are so wet for me.”

“That is a good thing, right?” 

“That is the best thing, darling,” he whispers before his fingers make contact with her center. The heat of his fingers and the roughness of his fingertips sends a shock of blistering heat up her entire body. Penelope jerks forward with a gasp as he traces the lips of her most private place with two fingers spread wide over each side of her. 

“Colin,” she gasps, tears springing to her eyes at the way her body trembles and burns for his touch. “What? Oh, Colin, I do not…” Penelope loses her ability to think as his fingers trace down the outer lips of her vagina, and press lightly against an opening she desires to clench closed around his warm digit.

When his hand follows the same slow motion but in reverse, Penelope’s legs widen of their own accord. She is no longer in control of her body. His hands feel sinful and overwhelming. 

“Colin,” she begs. “ Please. I do not know what I need. Please do not stop.”

“I will not stop, sweetheart,” he says. “Let me make you feel good.”

Penelope nods and then cries out when she feels his thumb trace down the slit of her. Her right hand tightens in his curls as her body tries to get closer to him, to follow his soft touch. 

“Colin, please !”

The loud cry is enough to earn his firm touch. At the top of her sex, he presses his thumb to a nub that sends heat through her veins. When he rubs a circle around this button, it goes straight to her soul. Her hips turn liquid and she tries to follow the path of his hand as it rubs tight circles over that spot.

Penelope cannot control her sounds. The gasps and moans feel yanked from her soul. Nothing has ever felt as good as this. She thought she knew what pleasure was, but those things pale in comparison. 

It feels so good and so intense that she might drown in sensation. 

Her head tips backwards as his pace increases. The sensitivity skyrockets and she feels heat sparking from that small bundle of nerves all the way up to her chest. Her breasts ache to be touched. Her nipples are so tight that they shift against the silk of her chemise in a frustratingly, tantalizing manner. She feels wanton, scandalous and indecent, but she might perish if he stops. 

“Do not stop,” she moans, feeling her hips rock into his touch. “What is this ?” 

“Just let yourself feel it, Penny,” Colin says. “I have you, sweetheart. Let me make you feel pleasure beyond comprehension.” 

A burning sensation builds at the base of her spine, radiating through her stomach and making her cunny become increasingly sensitive to his touch. Penelope moans again. Colin continues his circles around this source of so many sensations. Penelope wants to scrabble at something. She feels like she is on the surface of the sun. 

Her heart races in her chest and the litany of moans increases. He keeps the same, maddeningly even pace. Penelope wishes he would do something, anything, to bring this delightful torment to an end. She pants, feeling her body burn even hotter inside. 

“Come on sweet girl,” Colin murmurs. He leans forward to catch her mouth in an open mouthed kiss. Their kiss sends a spike of pleasure up Penelope’s spine and she cries out as her legs start trembling. Her knees bracket his waist and their tongues twine. She feels his teeth snag her bottom lip, sucking on the flesh. 

Her core drips all over his fingers. 

“Let me see you surrender to me, Penny,” Colin whispers against her mouth. Penelope clings onto the precipice. The unknown feels powerful and terrifying. She doesn't know what happens on the other side of this feeling. It is intimidating and scary. She finds herself frightened.

“I’m scared,” she cries out. Colin does not let up on his circling of her nub. “I have never felt this before, Col. Will it hurt or still feel good?” 

“I know you are new to this, Penny,” he says, kissing her deeply. “I am here, you are safe. Let me bring you pleasure, my sweet. I promise it will feel amazing.” 

Penelope’s face contorts as her hips rock into his touch faster. She is spread open for him. She feels so vulnerable and wonderful that her eyes swell with overwhelmed tears. 

“I love you sweetheart,” Colin says. “Trust me to keep you safe.” 

“I trust you, I love you,” Penelope replies, tears tracking down her face. 

“Let go for me, my love,” Colin says and Penelope surrenders. 

Heat sears up her spine and flashes over her entire body. Pleasure unlike she has ever known or dreamed of rain over her body. She melts into Colin’s arms, her cunt throbbing and a flood of liquid leaving her. She cries out at the release, awash with trust and hormones. Colin holds her close as she returns from the sky and Penelope bursts into overwhelmed tears. 

Colin kisses her, shushing her with sweet murmurings of his love and how beautiful she is. Penelope clutches at him, tremoring with shocks. He rubs his hands across the bare skin of her thighs in a soothing caress. She lets him hold her as her breathing calms and her heart stops hammering in her chest. They exchange deep, drugging kisses as she comes out of her stupor. Colin fixes her dress, but he continues dragging his hands across her calves. The constant contact reassures her as her awareness returns. 

Thinking of how wanton and debauched she just was makes Penelope tense up. Colin notices her change in demeanor immediately. He pulls back to look at her and she finds herself unable to meet his gaze. 

“Penelope, do not hide from me,” he says sternly. Blushing furiously she looks up at him, embarrassed. 

“I cannot believe how scandalously I just behaved,” she replies. “I feel so exposed.”

“Penny,” Colin says. “That was the most beautiful thing I have ever been blessed to witness.” 

“What?” 

“Never apologize for succumbing to pleasure with me,” he tells her. “I wish to make you feel safe enough to earn your release as powerfully each time.” 

“You wish to do that again?”

“If it were reasonable I wish to do that all the time.” 

“Is that what it is called?” Penelope asks, curious. “A release?”

“There are other names for it too,” he replies, his hands moving back to her thighs. Her center tingles at his nearness. She will never not desire his hands on her now. 

“Did you have a release as well?”

Colin’s chuckle is strained but not mocking. “Not this time,” he tells her with a shake of his head. His thumbs knead the inside of her legs and Penelope melts into the touch. 

“Why not?” she asks, “Is it different for men?”

Colin’s eyebrows raise in amusement as he replies, “It feels just as incredible but looks a fair bit different.”

Feeling her center grow warm from his ministrations, she boldly asks, “Will you show me?”

Colin’s mouth drops open. His eyes darken immediately with what she now recognizes as arousal. Before he can do more than capture her lips in a feral kiss, they feel the carriage come to an abrupt halt. They both crash into the back wall of the carriage. Colin sits up with his face twisted in displeasure.

“Do these carriage drivers not know what the long way round means?” he grumbles.

“Colin!” She exclaims, giggling into his chest. He groans before kissing her again – bruising and then sweet. 

“We must get you inside,” he says between soft kisses against her mouth. “Your staff has no doubt witnessed our arrival.” Penelope grips the back of his head, pulling him into a deep kiss that he succumbs to with a groan.

He finally pulls back from her mouth, chest heaving. Colin helps her straighten her clothing, smoothing her skirts down and tucking mussed curls behind her ear. They stare at each other and an amused smile spreads across Colin’s face. Penelope knows she must be mussed beyond repair. 

“What?”

“I suggest you move with haste, dearest,” he replies, grinning. Penelope loves his boyish smile and the way his chestnut curls are in disarray from their illicit activities.  

“I agree,” she answers. “If I look as disheveled as you appear, then we are in trouble.” 

Colin laughs. “You look beautiful,” he replies. “It is erotic beyond all comprehension to see you a mess as a result of our passion.” They kiss again, smiling against each other’s mouths before Colin pulls away. “You absolutely must go before I lose every ounce of composure and take you in this carriage.”

“Take me?” Penelope questions. “Is there more than what we have done?” She vaguely remembers something about his male parts going inside of her, perhaps he refers to the hardness between his legs where his release supposedly comes from? 

Interest piqued, she peers down at his waist only for Colin to tilt her head back up quickly. His breeches do look raised in an odd fashion but he blocks her view. 

“God, Penny, you must go,” he says. “I promise to sate your curiosity when we are not in such a precarious situation.”

Penelope cannot resist kissing him once more. She narrows her eyes at him and pokes him in the chest. “You better keep your promise to tell me everything,” she demands. He presses their foreheads together before kissing her sweetly once more. 

“You have proven to be both my weakness and my strength. I cannot deny you anything,” Colin replies. He looks deeply fond and amused. “Make haste, Pen. I love you.”

********

Watching Penelope briskly stride into the Featherington House in a flurry of wrinkled chiffon and messy red curls fills Colin with a joy he cannot suppress. She will be his wife one day, if she would ever accept his proposal. He cannot deny his hesitance about asking her again. Their miscommunication of intent from before has wilted his bravery. The carriage rattles away, heading around the square towards Bridgerton House. 

He places a hand over his painful erection to calm himself, but the scent of Penelope’s release in the air and on his fingers keeps him harder than he has ever been. The urge to sink into her damp flesh and claim her as his own nearly blinded him with desire. 

The scent of Penelope’s arousal remains heavy inside the carriage. He keeps remembering the way she looked as she surrendered to pleasure. With a quiet groan, he raises his fingers to his mouth and sucks the earthy taste of her from his digits. She floods his senses and his erection throbs under the hard press of his free hand. 

He cannot wait to have her wed to him and prone in his bed. He wants to devour her completely. 

He sucks her release from his fingers in time for the carriage to come to a halt in front of his family’s home. He has no option but to exit swiftly and head straight to his bedchamber in an attempt to preserve the dregs of his remaining dignity. The carriage door opens and Colin finds himself blushing at the way the footmen and carriage driver avert their eyes as he emerges still painfully hard. 

His footman John has a bright red face, even if he wears a small smirk. It reinforces the knowledge that he and Penelope were not at all discrete during their intimate exploration. Colin is both proud and troubled by this confirmation. The situation is so out of character for him that meeting John’s eyes makes him laugh. Before the hilarity of this event can fade, he hustles inside of the Bridgerton House. 

As soon as he turns away from the shut entry doors, he comes face to face with a distinctly unamused Anthony and Benedict waiting for him in the entrance hall. Colin’s face falls even before Anthony lifts a stern hand and points towards his study.

“You,” his elder brother’s voice booms through the entrance hall. “My study, right now .” 

Anthony is incensed. The vein in his forehead visibly throbs with rage and his lips are pressed together so tightly that they look pale and chapped. Colin finds himself dragged by the lapel into Anthony’s study by Benedict, who looks uncharacteristically furious.

“Did you think we would not notice you absconding away with Penelope in one of our carriages?!” he questions before the door to the study slams shut with a loud bang. Colin winces at the sound as well as the shouting of his brother. 

Anthony paces. “I had to leave our Mother and sisters in Simon’s care for the evening to try and find you!” he exclaims. Every step of his heeled boot on the floor echoes loudly with his anger. Colin thought his proposal to Miss Thompson enraged his eldest brother, but he has never seen Anthony this way. 

Benedict scrubs an anxious hand across his face, “Do we need to obtain a special license?”

Anthony’s face drains of all color as he stops in his tracks. “Yes, brother. Is there any chance she is with child?” he asks, urgently. He places both hands on his hips and stares death in Colin’s direction. 

Colin finds that their attitude has put him in a sour mood; after such a beautiful intimate moment shared with the love of his life. “You both dragged me into this office with tented breeches!” he retorts, annoyed. “If I had joined with her, do you really think I would still have had that visible affliction?”

Benedict and Anthony go still. At once, both sets of eyes shoot toward Colin’s (thankfully calmed) crotch. He lets out a petulant noise, moving his hands to cover himself. Anthony still appears angry but he regains color in his face. 

“I concede to that logic,” Anthony admits begrudgingly. “You still conducted yourself inappropriately!”

Benedict drops into a chair at the table. He loosens his cravat now that the situation does not appear as dire as it initially did. “Your problem does seem to have gone away rather quickly,” he says, allowing amusement to color his tone.

Colin slumps into a seat at the table next to Benedict. “Seeing both your faces thankfully does not inspire arousal,” he grumbles. 

Benedict barks out a laugh as he leans forward to slap Colin across the shoulder. “Sexual frustration has made you rather catty , brother.” 

Colin bares his teeth at his elder brother, who gives him a roguish and unrepentant wink in return. Anthony finds himself a seat at the table as well. He shrugs off his overcoat and unbuttons the top of his shirt. 

“What in the blazes happened?” he asks, unbuttoning his vest. “You were at odds all week.”

“Do not forget smelling of the tavern floor from the drink!” Benedict adds. “We nearly had to wipe you off the floor like a drunkard.” 

For a moment, Colin debates if he should confess the truth to his brothers. He cannot reveal Pen’s secret identity, but they can certainly understand why he acted such a fool with only parts of the story. Feeling insecure, he tugs a hand through his hair. He lets the silence continue as he shrugs off his outerwear. He has little desire to share this vulnerability with another person but his brothers should be able to understand heartbreak, especially Anthony.

He looks between Benedict’s feigned disinterest and Anthony’s abject concern before he places his head down onto the table. He cannot look at them. “I proposed to her,” he confesses quietly. “And she rejected me.”

There are small gasps from his brothers across the table and then Colin shares the worst part, “Twice.” Two audible and affronted gasps echo from across the table.

“ Twice?! ” Anthony sputters. Colin lifts his head to look up at them and they both appear as shocked as they are outraged. 

Benedict blinks at Colin, nonplussed. “How on earth did you propose and have a woman arse over teakettle in love with you say no ?” he asks. Anthony doesn’t speak but he sits there still agape. 

Colin anxiously tugs on an errant curl near his ear. “I went to her after her fainting spell at our home and asked her to marry me because I could not stand the idea of being apart from her,” he admits. Colin pauses and Benedict exchanges a confused look with Anthony.

“I am still trying to understand why she would say no,” he says slowly. “Sounds rather romantic if you ask me.” Anthony nods in agreement but motions for Colin to go on.

“The second time was after a rather passionate kiss and a shouting match,” Colin replies. Both his brothers lean forward with rapt attention.  

“What did you say the second time?” Anthony asks, impatient with Colin’s dallying during storytelling.

“The passionate kiss sounds like it should've been promising…,” Benedict says, trailing off as Colin's ears burn bright red with consternation.

“It could not have been that terrible, Col!”

Colin blurts, “For God’s sake, Penelope Featherington, will you marry me or not?”

Anthony and Benedict stare at him. There is dead silence in Anthony’s study. It feels as though the clock on the wall stopped in dismay as well. Colin tugs at his loose collar. 

“That is not how you proposed the second time, Colin,” Benedict says darkly. His brother looks agonized. 

Anthony seems to be in actual, physical pain. “Please tell me you are in jest,” he says quietly. 

Colin laughs awkwardly, already knowing he is beyond redemption. “Did you miss the part where it was after a shouting match?”

Anthony looks heavenward. Benedict appears to want to strangle him. He watches them cycle through grief and rage at his apparent stupidity before Benedict places his elbows on the table and presses his fingers to his temples.

With a guttural sigh, Benedict asks, “Col, did you ever think that she rejected you because it seems you asked out of duty instead of love?”

Anthony leans forward to add, “You did say that you loved her when you asked both times, did you not?” Colin freezes in response, which is a dead giveaway to his brothers. Anthony audibly swears and places the palm of his hand over his eyes.

Benedict shouts, “Colin Bridgerton!” Colin cannot remember the last time Benedict truly shouted at him, but apparently bungling a proposal to the love of your life is more than enough to push him beyond his nonchalant demeanor.

Colin winces as he says, “I got swept away!” Benedict looks two seconds and one good lunge away from physically striking him so he continues, “I thought loving her was obvious.”

Benedict groans in agony as he replies, “One thing I can tell you about women is that what you believe to be obvious is never obvious.” His elder brother places his forehead on the table and bangs it against the wood three times. “I have not seriously courted a young lady nor have I been in love, but you two idiots find spectacular women and nearly ruin things for yourselves!”

“I wish to march you both straight to the church but seeing as she rejected you, that would make her even more unhappy,” Anthony says. He looks conflicted between his morals and their reality. 

“You are a romantic!” Benedict exclaims. Colin would scold him for the dramatics but he deserves the dressing down for being such a ninny in his courtship to Penelope. “How do you forget the romance while asking the woman you love to marry you?”

“I would like it to be known that I only made an ass of myself once when I proposed to Kate.”

“I think proposing to Edwina in front of Kate makes your ass count match Colin at two for two, brother,” Benedict snipes. Apparently, Benedict’s ire is not limited to Colin’s misadventures. 

“She just drives me mad,” Colin interjects before his elder brothers can start arguing with one another. “I look at her and I see all that soft skin and pretty hair–”

“Colin!” Anthony scolds

Colin talks over him, “ –and I must have her as my wife. This is torture, Ant. I want to hold her and touch her at all times, and the only place I can do either of those things is in my dreams until she accepts my proposal.”

“That did not seem much of a deterrent to you today, brother,” Benedict retorts dryly. Colin shoots him a heated glare. 

“Be silent, Ben,” Colin replies before continuing his diatribe, “How can one woman be so sweet and then be so bullheaded in the next moment? She will not listen to me!”

“And you think my wife does? Should you not know better than that by now?” Anthony questions, incredulous. “Have you met our sisters?”

Benedict continues bemoaning his fate as the only brother with common sense. “I must ask Mother if we are actually related,” he mutters. “Stupidity this grand would be hereditary and it seems to have missed me.”

Anthony ignores Benedict’s antics. “Listen Col, no man–not a good one mind you–wants a woman with no volatility to their spirit. Your wife should challenge you, make you better and help you see beyond yourself,” Anthony says. “In the last month, I have seen you happier than you’ve ever been. Kate rejected my proposal too after I took liberties–”

Benedict and Colin interrupt with loud cries of, “I knew it!” and, “Hypocrite!”.

Anthony waves off their offense as he continues, “–but she rejected me because I proposed as a gentleman and out of duty. She loved me, but she would not marry me if I did not love her too.” 

Anthony reaches across the table to grab Colin’s hand in a tight, reassuring grip. Colin and Anthony meet eyes and Colin recognizes the truth when he sees it. “When I humbled myself before her, she said yes.” 

For a prolonged moment, Colin holds his brother’s hand and thinks over his options. The sting of rejection rises in his stomach but he pushes it down. She loves him. He loves her. 

“Ask her again, you think?” Colin asks, quietly.

Benedict adopts a serious expression as he places his hand over Anthony and Colin’s. Without dramatics or mockery, he says, “Yes, and do it right this time.”

Colin shares a look with his brothers before he glances at Anthony and asks, “Might we go into the family vault, brother? I have need to procure an engagement ring.”