Chapter Text

Anthony tried to keep his attention on his conversation with Albion and Harry regarding their recent joint investment in the advancement of steam engines, but it was difficult to do when he kept catching the sight of Penelope’s lush derrière in his peripheral vision.  She was bent over, along with her sisters, cooing over the welcome new editions to the Featherington family.  The babies, all close in age, were laying on the floor playing contentedly as their mothers and grandmothers hovered.  

Benedict and Gregory were seated nearby on one of the Featherington family settees arguing over whether Colin’s book, An Englishman in India, which was published earlier this year, was appropriate reading material while Hyacinth was off with Varley trying to secure copies of Penelope’s latest column.

Anthony smiled when his wife picked up their son, Ledger Edmund “Eddie” Bridgerton, and held him close to her (generous) bosom.  Out of all three Featherington sisters, Pen had been the only one to have a boy (a fact that he attributed to his Bridgerton genes), so Eddie was both his beloved son and heir to two titles.  Penelope’s mother was ecstatic at that fact, not only because it meant all the questions about Cousin Jack went away, but also because it ensured she’d be able to live comfortably at Featherington House for the foreseeable future since Anthony and Pen had no desire to move from Bridgerton House.  In an unexpected twist of fate, his mother and siblings opted to move in with the dowager baroness, who admitted to being quite lonely since her daughters moved out. 

The arrangement was working out surprisingly well, as Hyacinth and Portia got along like a house on fire.  Gregory was taking the arrangement in stride as he prepared to leave for Eton, but Benedict was all-in the moment he met Portia’s new lady’s maid, Sophie.  Benedict’s lust for the young woman did not go unnoticed by Anthony and there were several instances over the past few months when Anthony had to remind his brother that he had bachelor lodgings he could move into. Benedict, however, retorted that he could not help him keep an eye on the Featherington holdings if he lived so far away; so, after his the fifth unsuccessful attempt to get him to move out, Anthony simply reminded Benedict to be discreet and asked Penelope to have Varley keep an eye on them.

Anthony excused himself from his conversation and headed over to his wife and son, who was standing with his mother and Portia.  When Anthony reached her, he patted his son’s head and leaned down to give Penelope a chaste kiss on the lips.  As the four of them were bantering over Eddie’s handsomeness and how he was his father’s son, Hyacinth and Varley returned with the copies of Whistledown.

Pen handed the baby to her mother and took a copy in one hand and his hand in her other before leading him over to the settee by the window.  The two of them sat down to read the latest issue as if they’d never seen it before while the rest of their family did the same.

Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers still included gossip, but not to the level it used to.  At least half of Pen’s column was now dedicated to anonymous personal ads.  Men and women would write to her care of her printer’s office and she would help them facilitate matches based upon her extensive knowledge of the ton.  However, since she couldn’t work directly with anyone as she did with Cressida, Penelope used the paper to post the qualities men and women were looking for in spouses and interested parties would reply.  Penelope then reviewed the replies and helped the originator choose between them through letters.  In the past year, Penelope had been responsible for facilitating over a dozen successful, happy marriages. The Queen rescinded the bounty on Lady Whistledown’s head and had even engaged her to help her single daughters find prospective husbands who would be happy to live in the castle.  So far one of the princesses had found a successful match.  Charlotte was so happy to see her daughter happily married that she didn’t care that the gentleman had been a duke rather than a prince.

Anthony skipped over the matchmaking section to read the gossip and was astonished to see their own names mentioned (which hadn’t been in the draft his footman had delivered last night).

This Author has heard whispers that Lady Bridgerton may once again be with child.  Considering the way Viscount Bridgerton dotes upon his wife at societal events (sharing no less than three dances, fetching her refreshments, and accompanying her on walks in dimly-lit gardens from which they return disheveled), this on-dit is not surprising.  It is only sad that we will have to wait with baited breath to find out the name of the newest addition to the Bridgerton clan, given that the lord and his wife have opted not to follow the tradition of alphabetical names his sister, the Duchess of Hastings, so conveniently maintains.  

“You’re pregnant?” Anthony whispered quietly, though he wasn’t sure why he did considering that the entire room had gone silent after reading the same paragraph he had.

His wife smiled and replied, “Uhm-hmm,” as their families gawked at them in rabid fascination.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

Anthony looked from Penelope to his eight-month old son, who was wiggling in his grandmother’s arms, and back.  “Two children under two,” he observed with a shudder.  “God help us.”

~z~

That evening, Anthony was laying in bed in his grey robe and nothing else reading a letter from Eloise as he waited for Penelope to finish her bath.  (He had offered to scrub her back for her, but she rebuffed his offer of assistance, stating that if Rae helped her, she’d actually get clean.)  He was impatient for his wife to return, but was happy to hear from his sister.

Brother,

I hope this letter finds you well.  I would ask how Penelope fares, too, but she has been a far more diligent correspondent than you, so asking would be redundant when I already know the answer.

Anthony chuckled when he read that.

Thank you again for allowing me to travel to Scotland with Francesca and John.  I have enjoyed the opportunity to grow closer to Fran, who is my opposite in many ways, and learn all about Scotland’s rich history from her husband.  You’ll be happy to know I’ve become fairly adept at the pianoforte under Fran’s diligent tutelage and can now play three songs on my own.  

Anthony would have to send his sister a gift for that.  Francesca clearly has the patience of a saint.

Michael and Kate returned from their honeymoon a few weeks ago and have taken up temporary residence in the same wing of the castle as me while Michael renovates his estate.  As such, I have had to start sleeping with cotton in my ears to drown out the noises that emit from their room every night.  Kate has been rather tight-lipped about their cause, stating that I will find out for myself one day if I marry.   She seems happy, brother, happier than I have ever seen her, and confess that I am bewildered by that.  She is trapped in the institution of marriage, the very one she vehemently swore off two years ago when you were courting Edwina, and yet does not despair over it.  What am I missing?  

Anthony wasn’t about to answer that question and made himself a mental note to advise Penelope not to either.

Francesca says we will all be returning to London for the holidays, including Colin, Edwina and Lady Mary, who plan to stop here on their way home from India and travel with us.  I cannot wait to meet my nephew, who Pen has assured me is adorable.  She also indicated that she has another surprise for me. Do you have any idea what it is?

Anthony really had to have a talk with his wife about boundaries with Eloise.  Sometimes he thought his sister knew more about his life than he did.

I suppose I should let you get back to your important lordly duties.  (If you made it this far, congratulations.  There is a first time for everything.)  Take care of Penelope for me. (If you don’t, I will promptly engage Bridgerton Rule 23. In winter.)

With love,

Eloise 

~z~

Fortunately, Anthony didn’t have to worry about Eloise’s threat, as he had no intention of disappointing his wife.  He folded up the letter and placed it on his nightstand just as Penelope came into the room dressed only in his favorite thin blue chemise. 

Anthony’s robe tented as he took in the sight of her and praised Madame DeLaCroix’ genius.  The material was a whisper-thin silk dyed a perfect shade of Bridgerton Blue.  Through it, he could see the outline of her ample breasts, as well as the dark circles of her areolas amidst perfectly peaked nipples.  Anthony’s eyes traveled lower and caught on the slight roll of her abdomen before dropping to the dark patch of hair visible between her thighs.  “ Fuck ,” he murmured breathlessly as Penelope approached him.  

She crawled onto the bed and straddled his lap, her long fiery tresses falling down over her shoulders.  Pen placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned in until he could feel her breath on his face.  “That is the idea,” she whispered prior to capturing his lips with hers.

~z~

Instead of allowing Penelope to open his robe and slide onto his cock, Anthony grasped her around the waist and flipped them over so that he was on top of her without even breaking their kiss.

Once she was pressed into the mattress under him, Anthony released his grip on her waist.  He propped himself up with one elbow and slid the thin strap of her chemise down her shoulder with that hand while the other moved southward to the hem of her chemise. He eased it up slowly until it was just above her thighs and inched his hand toward her soaked pussy, where Anthony immediately teased her swollen clit.  Penelope moaned, “ Tony ,” and arched her hips toward his fingers.  

Anthony smirked at the use of her nickname for him, which she only ever used in private (usually in bed) and inserted his index and middle fingers inside her channel.  Pen gasped at the contact, which gave him and opportunity to remove his lips from hers and turn his attention to her breasts.  He closed his lips around her nipple through the silk and sucked, generating a mewl of pleasure.  The fingers that were playing with the strap traced her chest, clavicle, and shoulder with a featherlight touch before moving to the side of her breast.  Pen shivered at the feel of his finger tracing up and down her orb.  Anthony chuckled, which caused his wife to grasp his cheeks and pull his face back to hers.  She commanded, “Faster,” and pulled him down.  Penelope attacked his lips with hers and pushed her hips into his fingers frantically trying to fuck them like she does his cock.  Anthony held out for a few moments, torturing her slowly, but then sped up his pace until she shattered.  

He kissed her tenderly as she came down from her peak, though he continued to languidly stroke and rub her core through her spasms.  Penelope shifted away from their kiss and opened her eyes, which were still dilated with desire.  “What are you waiting for?” she asked quietly as her hands left his cheeks and journeyed down his body to the sash at his waist.  Pen untied the knot and spread the panels wide before gripping his erection and urging it toward her opening.  

Anthony removed his hand from her quim and used it to push her knee outward so that he could slide inside her heat.  His breath hitched once he was seated in her and Anthony dropped his head into her neck.  He blew out a labored breath to try to stay in control of his body.  No matter how many times he did this, it was always like the first time.  

“Anthony, please.  I need…” Pen cried, breath quick and body tense.

He lined himself up at her entrance.  “I know what you need.  But this will hurt.”

Pen furrowed her brow.  “Hurt?  Why?”

“Because it will.”

“But why?” she asked, both impatient and confused.  Leave it to her to want to know the intricacies of the birds and the bees at the most inopportune moment.

“Do you trust me, Pen?”  Anthony asked seriously.

She nodded, so he replied, “Then trust me when I tell you it will hurt, but only this time and only for a moment.”

Penelope smiled up at him.  “Alright,” she whispered.  Anthony used that period of camaraderie between them to push past her barrier and stifle her gasp with a kiss.  

He broke the kiss and buried his face in her neck.  He managed to hold still, barely, as her body adjusted to his invasion and breathed intermittently through his nose to stop himself from following his body’s cues to move.

Anthony marveled at the level of desire being inside Penelope had unleashed.   He wanted nothing more than to devour her and fought the urge to fuck her into the mattress harder and faster than he’d ever done with anyone before.  But, she was innocent and deserved a first time worthy of the honor she had bestowed upon him, so he checked his libido.

“Anthony.  Move ,” Penelope commanded once her body had become accustomed to him.  She squirmed beneath him to illustrate her restlessness and clamped her thighs against his hips to spur him on.

“Are you certain?”  he asked, raising his head to look at her.  

“Yes,” she confirmed, digging her nails into his shoulders and slicing them down his back until they reached his ass, where she squeezed hard enough to make him groan.

Restraint snapped, Anthony shifted a knee up for leverage, pulled back, and ground out “Hold on,” before thrusting forward. 

Pen must have been remembering, too, because she kissed his temple and repeated her actions from that night.  “Move, my love,” his wife ordered. 

Anthony had no choice but to obey.

~z~

Anthony rolled off his wife onto his back next to her and gathered her into his arms.  Penelope snuggled against him and whispered, “I love you,” as she drifted off to sleep.

He kissed her temple and replied, “I love you, too,” before succumbing to exhaustion himself.

~THE END~

(for now)