Chapter Text
Portia had worried at first, about her daughter being in the home of the young man who was showing such interest in her, but then relented when she realized there were far more Bridgerton eyes on Penelope on that side of the square than there ever could be in her own home. And her fears were doubly allayed when she and Jack joined the Bridgertons for dinner before they departed for the countryside. There were just so many of them, and all so chatty and happy, and more than eager to tease their love-foolish brother, even in front of company. After being reminded of the chaos that defined the preeminent family, she felt rather sure that there were just too many people about that house for anything scandalous to actually occur during a visit for tea in the drawing room.
Her reassurance did not go so far as to allow Penelope her usual week-long trip to Aubrey Hall with them though. Something about a very long carriage ride and bedrooms within any proximity to each other, even when shared with several other siblings and chaperones, seemed much too risky for any young lady's reputation. So she watched her daughter hug her best friend goodbye, tears welling in her eyes, and receive a slightly too long kiss on the hand from that Bridgerton boy, before the two climbed into a carriage a week before the Hearts and Flowers ball, and left Penelope behind at the gate of their neighbour’s house.
Being courted by Colin Bridgerton made Penelope's life infinitely better. Because now when she visited the Modiste with her mother, she suddenly had an opinion that mattered. Slowly, but surely she was given the opportunity to become more … herself. Yellow silks and excessive trims had faded from her wardrobe, replaced by softer (but still a touch too vibrant) greens and pinks. Portia Featherington seemed to notice that her daughter was smiling more than ever before, and maybe the happiness on her face meant that her gowns did not need to be such loud, happy colours too.
Being courted by Colin Bridgerton made Penelope’s life infinitely more complicated. Because now when she visited the Modiste by herself, to deliver her column to be sent to the publisher, Colin would notice her leaving her house unescorted and assume she was on her way across the square to Bridgerton house. Twice last week the column had been delivered to the publisher well past the overnight deadline, and therefore delivered to the Ton a full day late. Readers were beginning to grow impatient with the now unreliable gossip writer. And Penelope liked to be nothing, if not reliable.
It was not until he and the rest of the Bridgertons had departed for Kent that she really began to reckon with the fact that her secret identity was beginning to cause an unsteadiness in her heart like never before. She had never really considered what would happen to her career as the Ton’s most famous writer if she was being courted by a gentleman. That was probably because she never realistically believed she would ever be the object of any gentleman’s true affection. Now she seemed to finally have caught the attention of the only man which she had ever desired to be noticed by, and it was causing the most uncomfortable torment within her. It was not just the attention from Colin that seemed to weigh on her, but also that of Eloise. Or, the spotlight her best friend seemed to bestow on Lady Whistledown, specifically. A few weeks ago it was this obsession with the feel of the paper in which the pamphlet was written on, and then it was the appearance of the letter ‘k’. She had solved that last problem easily enough, and the accidental encounter with Genevieve during that errand actually solved the issue of her needing to travel all the way to the printer to deliver her articles, now instead working with the Modiste to hide away her writings on her behalf. But with each word inked onto parchment in the past few weeks, the tug her secret was causing within her heart had begun to appear on her face as well; it tugged the smile that used to grace her lips while she poured her cleverness out onto the page into a nervous frown.
The ride up to Aubrey Hall was excruciatingly boring. Colin doesn’t ever remember it taking so long to get to Kent; the carriage was too quiet and the view seemed relentlessly the same along each mile. Eloise was reading a novel, or in truth, a pamphlet she was hiding within a novel. He would ask her about that later, when Benedict was not sharing the space with them, he noted to himself. He figured this trip seemed different because in other years Penelope would be travelling with the Bridgertons, so her and Eloise would spend most of the ride talking and laughing, and teasing him; and now no one seemed to want to talk, or laugh, or tease him, and it made it very dull.
So instead of entertainment, he got lost in his own thoughts, which very quickly turned to Penelope, something that seemed to be happening with increasing frequency. And then the idea of a wife floated in along with it, and the carriage was suddenly unbearably hot; he had to remove his jacket because he was sweating quite profusely.
He was not opposed to the idea of marriage, clearly he was impossibly distracted by it in some ways. But he was opposed to the idea of a dull marriage. He wanted friendship, and intellectual conversation, and a good laugh, and … passion. And most importantly, love. Is that what he had found in Penelope? And if it was that, wouldn’t he know it? His mind then filled with one specific thought about her, what it would be like to kiss her. He would never admit to anyone that he had in fact kissed several ladies before now; early in his travels the opportunity of beautiful women in beautiful scenery had enticed him to cross the line between flirting and impropriety and he had welcomed the new, tantalizing experiences. And so now his mind's focus seemed to be sharpened to a point, directed at Penelope’s most perfectly kissable lips. Is that what love is? That temporary sort of madness?
He had a wretched headache by the time they reached the estate, lumbering out of the carriage, and sleeping all the way through dinner. His mother was actually quite concerned when he never appeared for the meal with the rest of the family, had Colin ever skipped a meal? Anthony and Benedict joked that he was lovesick, but Violet was more wary of his change in mood and demeanour. It wasn’t until Daphne arrived the following day that Colin appeared for breakfast and ate the days worth of meals he had missed. Violet was relieved he seemed to be his normal self, and his competitiveness during the rounds of pall mall indicated that he is quite well indeed. Maybe it was just a temporary ailment.
Despite this, both Violet and Daphne kept a keen eye on him, noticing he did appear distracted since arriving, and not what the two ladies would describe as ‘lovesick’. But Violet had too many distractions of her own to really focus too much of her attention on Colin’s mood, with the Sharma’s and Lady Danbury also in attendance for the week, and the Hearts and Flowers ball only days away. When Violet saw him and Eloise bickering over some reading materials she felt silly for over-thinking her son’s temperament, he seemed just the same as ever, back to pestering his sister like always.
The morning of the ball, when all the invitees were to arrive at Aubrey Hall, Colin was once again piqued with excitement. All of his swirling thoughts about just what it is he was feeling for Penelope seemed to fade as the hour in which he would actually see her again approached. There were so many people around the estate, readying the ball room, and tending to the many activities arranged on the grounds, that he was constantly twisting his head this way and that in an attempt to catch a first glance at her, whenever she might appear. He finally found himself waiting on the main stair case, peering out the open front door, as so many items were being moved in and out of the manor no one bothered to shut it in between loads. He saw the familiar flash of the Featherington family crest on a carriage door, and knew she was inside, hopefully just as eagerly anticipating her destination.
Colin made his way to the front steps as the carriage slowed to a stop, and she burst from the door with an excited squeak. At least, he would have described it as a squeak.
“Colin!” she cried out, and the look on her mother’s face was one of pure embarrassment.
“Mr. Bridgerton,” Portia called out in correction from the carriage as she alighted, Colin nodded in her direction, but was actually looking at Penelope, who was standing dangerously close, holding both of his hands with both of hers. Her long auburn hair swishing down her back in loose curls, her pretty green and pink dress made her look like a cupcake, and he suddenly felt very hungry.
Daphne seemed to have been pulled to the front of the house from the commotion of the reunion, and threw her brother an arched eyebrow, and so with a pained expression he dropped Penelope’s hands. Luckily the Duchess handled the formal greetings and took the Featherington’s to their rooms, giving Colin a few moments to sneak Penelope into Anthony’s office on the main floor. As he closed the door, Penelope gazed around the small room with a rapt curiosity. She had seen the room many times, but only ever from the doorway, and always with the Viscount slumped behind the desk.
“I think we can steal a moment alone safely here, both our mothers will assume we’re making our way to the back of the estate for the activities.” He assured her as he approached the place she was standing by the large, oak desk.
He took her hands again as he stood before her, meeting her gaze and then directing his eyes to her lips, which she chewed in nervousness.
“I have missed you,” he says in a near whisper, “more than I thought I could in only a few days.”
She almost wiggled in her own body, like she might burst with excitement at his words, and it made him smile in a way that he knew must have looked goofy.
“I missed you too. More than I am used to, despite the fact that there have been many times we have been apart much longer than this past week.”
He pulled her in closer to him, so that the whole length of their bodies were almost touching, and he rubbed his thumbs along the back of her hands as he held them. She leaned into him, tipping her face up, and he was suddenly bending himself to have his mouth meet hers, placing the most chaste of kisses on her lips. He pulled himself back slightly, both catching each other's eyes for a moment, and then they both pushed into a kiss again. This was a much longer kiss, this was a proper kiss, he thought. This was the kiss he dreamed about giving her all week. But it did not just feel like a kiss, not the ones he’s had before. It was something more than a kiss, and his hand moved from holding her hand to cradling her face, and he was not sure if he would ever let go of her, he never wanted their lips to come apart.
The sound of another carriage approaching outside the open front door pulled them apart again. Both stared at the door, waiting for someone, anyone, to burst in and ruin both of their families’ reputations. After a minute they both breathed a sigh of relief, although Colin was still holding one of Penelope’s hands, which he squeezed firmly, reassuringly.
“We should probably not loiter here along any longer”, Colin said in a low voice, “if someone were to catch us Whistledown would tear our propriety to shreds, deservedly so, I think,” he added in jest.
Penelope coughed nervously at his last comment, and nodded in agreement. He slowly opened the office door, and peeked down the adjoining hallway, sending Penelope out into the hall on her own, so she could join the party before he would find his way out to the garden in a few minutes, separately from her. While waiting to leave an appropriate amount of time between their departures from the office, Colin sat at the desk, leaning back in the chair with his eyes closed. His only thoughts were of her lips, and his lips on her lips. Of all the kisses he had experienced (and in truth, it was not that many) none of them were like that. He felt breathless and untethered, and yet so solidly sure of himself all at the same time.
He sat in the office for quite some time considering… considering what, he wasn't entirely sure. But he did know one thing, knew it all the way down to his bones; his life had suddenly schismed in two. His life, and the Colin Bridgerton he had been before he had kissed Penelope Featherington in that very room, and his life after, his life from then on.
She practically skipped down the slope of the yard towards Eloise, throwing her arms around her best friend. Penelope felt like she might burst in that moment, but really the cause of it would be the previous moment she just shared with Colin by that large oak desk. In her mind she roils over the idea of telling Eloise what has just happened. Is it a good idea to reveal their impropriety? If it were any other gentleman Penelope believed she would tell El, but now the excitement of the event has quickly faded at the truth of this disparity. She has only ever wanted a kiss to be with Colin, but it was also the only one she feels she could not share with her best friend; not because of the improperness of it, and Penelope wasn’t entirely sure why.
So instead of sharing the most important thing that has ever happened to her with Eloise, she began to discuss the family, the events she missed, the carriage ride to Kent. And it felt wrong and secretive, but she was so unsure of herself at that moment that she almost began to regret what she had done. Almost. This brought the pin prick of tears behind her eyes and she had to look away for a minute while Eloise began to rant about something she read in that disastrous Women’s Rights pamphlet. While gazing about she noticed Daphne was watching them closely with a sure smile directed at her, and Penelope’s confidence suddenly returned. She realized Daphne was smiling because Colin had made his way to the lawn, and was clearly searching for her amongst the crowd.
“Eloise, he kissed me,” she blurted out. And then her hand flew to her mouth as if she could stuff the impetuous words back in. She looked around suddenly to judge how close any other party guest was standing to them, if they might have overheard. But luckily the closest person was Colin, who was quickly making his way down the slope towards them.
Eloise’s mouth hung agape, her eyes were wide, and Penelope could not tell if the tears brimming in them were from happiness, rage, or simple lack of oxygen; she did not appear to be breathing.
“Eloise?” she whispered, and grasped her friend's hand. “Please say something.”
Eloise did not; she only threw her arms around Penelope in a hug and giggled wildly.
“What was it like?!” She exclaimed as Colin reached them, standing so close to Penelope she could feel the heat of him on her bare arm.
“You can tell me later” she followed, knowing that Penelope would likely not review her experience with him standing right there too. Penelope gave them both a shy smile, not knowing what else she might say, and hoping he would not ask what they were just speaking about.
As they stood together Colin’s hands slowly swung closer and closer to Penelope’s as the three of them all tried to make up for a weeks worth of conversation in the first few minutes of being reunited. Would it be so terrible if he held it for just a minute, maybe five? He thought no one would even notice, they are all so busy with everything else. But he did see Daphne peering around the garden party watchfully and decided he does not want a lecture from his younger sister later tonight. To his consternation, Eloise was still going on about that boy at the print shop and the pamphlet he gave her, and he is all at once very concerned and very exasperated. Luckily Penelope, the one of the three of them with the most common sense (he thinks), is on his side in the matter.
Eventually his mother approached to escort Penelope and Eloise to whatever activity she had planned for them, and it is time for him to depart on his planned day trip as well. Penelope sounded quite unravelled when he revealed he was going to see Lady Crane. He was not entirely sure why he was suddenly enticed to visit her, but he had made the arrangements on his third day in Kent, and he is not one to cancel plans at the last minute. This despite the fact that he had much rather spend the afternoon waiting for Penelope to finish whatever it is that she will be doing so he might steal a few more moments with her instead.
He held a nervous energy within him on the trip to Romney Hall. Lost in his thoughts about what exactly he planned to accomplish with this visit. Was he planning to apologize? And for what, exactly? Was he expecting an apology? And for what, exactly? All he knew was that there was something seemingly unsettled between him and Marina, even after all that time. Something that he felt he needed to say to her, or hear from her, to finally be able to move on from the events of last season that had left an itching guilt in his mind.
The greeting was stiff and awkward. Much more awkward than he ever would have imagined. The tension only broke when her husband, Lord Phillip Crane returned from his greenhouse and introduced himself. He is a very interesting fellow indeed; friendly, and captivating. With a wealth of knowledge in plants and horticulture that Colin finds fascinating, especially since Phillip seemed to be just as interested in hearing about his travels through Greece and Italy. But then he departed and the air in the room shifted once more.
“You act as if I broke your heart,” Marina said, pointedly. “I know I told you I loved you, but I did not.”
Colin tried not to react to her statement.
“I liked you well enough, I suppose.” She smirked to herself, “you were the best of the poor choices I had to make.”
He was not sure if she was purposefully trying to be mean and cutting, or if she was just being so brutally honest that he should let her directness roll off his back.
“Did you love me?” she asked.
He pondered for a moment, trying to think of the kindest words possible.
“No.” Was all he could manage, with a crooked smile gracing his lips.
“Well then I did not break your heart. Just your pride.”
He held his smile, and nodded. “I suppose that is the absolute truth.”
“Your heart doesn’t even need to be repaired then, so surely you will be able to find love, if you are looking for it.”
“Do you think one must look for it? Seek it out?” He asked her curiously.
“I don’t really know anything about love, for you to be asking me. I am married to a man I do not love. He treats me very well, and I am content and my children happy. But I am not someone that should give any person advice on finding or keeping love.” Again, she said this without a hint of malice, just plain, bare honesty. She did not mean to hurt him, he supposed, just to get rid of him, it felt. And so he thanked her for her hospitality, and shook Sir Phillip’s hand in the front hall, and made his leave. He had a ball to attend, and a dance card waiting for him to fill.
It was on the carriage ride back to Aubrey Hall when it hit him. Love is not a thunderbolt from the sky. It is not a jolt of someone coming into your life that changes everything you know. Perhaps it was his own foolishness that prevented him from seeing it sooner, but he had known Penelope for a very long time and he, in a way, had always felt something for her. But being away from her over his summer tour, and all of the discussion and secrets they had shared through their letters, seemed to tug on his heart in a way that he had not expected. Maybe there was a jolt; the buzz he felt when he walked into the Bridgerton drawing room upon his return and he saw her for the first time again. She was so achingly beautiful, and he had just wanted to touch her because that was the one thing of Penelope he had not had over his time away, in their time apart. He can’t help but run his fingers along his lips as he considered all of this on his journey back to his family’s estate.
When he arrived back at Aubrey hall the ball was just about to begin, so he rushed to the family wing of the residence to shave and put on his evening kit. As he walked past Eloise’s bed chamber he heard a course of giggles, and possibly even his name when he stopped to lean in closer to the door. And he was positive he heard El yell ‘okay, please stop describing what it feels like!’, which caused a smile to creep to his lips, and his face to flush rosy. As Colin continued to the stairway Benedict approached him, slapping his arm around him, pulling him into a half hug as they descended the stairs.
“I heard a great deal of laughter and something about kissing emanating from Eloise’s bed chamber this afternoon,” Benedict chided.
“Who has Eloise been kissing?” Colin weakly deflected, the flush returned to his face before it had actually fully receded.
Benedict stopped at the bottom of the stairs, and pulled Colin to face him, holding his shoulders firmly.
“You must be much more careful with that girl,” Benedict said with not a hint of anger, but entirely directly.
“She’s a lady now, Benedict, not the girl playing in our drawing room.” He tried to sound confident, but knew he was wearing his nervousness in his voice.
“Exactly. A lady has a reputation to maintain. And we both know you would not mean to do her any harm, but Lady Whistledown is likely lurking around these halls somewhere.”
“I know,” was all Colin could manage with that reminder.
“Now, fill that lovely young lady’s dance card, and bring her lemonade, and at the end of the evening be sure the last lady you are seen with is our mother, and not Penelope. For her sake.” Benedict instructed. Colin nodded and headed to the ball room.