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“Stay on the path, boys,” Viscount Edmund Bridgerton called ahead to his two eldest sons, Anthony and Benedict, “Your mother does not want you coming home covered in mud.”
The air was wet and clean, the first clear day after nearly a week of rain. Though the sky remained slate grey, casting a ghostly pallor over the sodden grass, Hyde Park was bustling with other members of the ton also eager for some fresh air after being confined in their homes for so long.
“Boys,” Edmund’s voice was slightly sharper now as eleven-year-old Anthony started edging toward a particularly large mud puddle with nine-year-old Benedict close behind, “What did I just say?”
Both boys had the courtesy to look sheepish, but Benedict still piped up, “What is the point of so much rain if we don’t at least get to splash around afterward? If I had known the park would be this boring, I could have stayed at home with the girls.”
Anthony gave Benedict a hard poke in the ribs to silence him, though the set of his jaw told Edmund that Anthony quite agreed with his younger brother. Benedict responded by elbowing Anthony in the stomach, causing Anthony’s expression to grow thunderous.
Edmund sighed. Violet was much better at stopping his children’s bickering than he was.
Not that Edmund’s children did not respect him—of course they did. He was simply too kindhearted for his threats to hold any weight, and all six of his children: Anthony, Benedict, Colin, Daphne, Eloise, and even little Francesca, knew it.
Perhaps he should have taken Violet’s advice and brought along a maid to assist him. But, Edmund had reasoned, he was only taking the two eldest boys and surely they were old enough to behave in public.
However, he had not considered that Anthony and Benedict had a week of pent-up energy to spend after so much time indoors.
Surely Violet was handling the other four children at home much better than he was at the moment.
“Come here, both of you.” Both boys exchanged exasperated looks and trudged, feet dragging, toward their father.
Edmund bent down and examined his sons—Anthony with dark brown eyes and a pointed chin, Benedict with his flyaway hair and eyes a greenish grey.
“Listen,” he said in a low voice as other pedestrians eddied around them, “I brought you out today because I told your mother that you were both old enough to behave like gentlemen. Having fun is all well and good, but you are nearly grown men, and Bridgertons, besides. I expect you to reflect well on our family. Do you understand?”
Anthony sagged, chastened. Benedict looked dubious, but did not protest. “Yes, sir,” they both muttered toward their shoes.
“Good lads,” Edmund rose, ruffling both boys’ hair, “Now perhaps we should head toward…”
But his sentence was cut off by a splash and a distressed whimper to his left.
There, bottom down in the very same puddle he had just steered his sons away from, was a tiny girl, no older than two or three. Apparently, she had been toddling through the wet grass and had taken a spectacular tumble.
Dirty water flowed in rivulets down her garish yellow dress and soaked her matching limp hair bow. Edmund braced for a loud wail—this is exactly how his Eloise, who was around the same age, would react. But the girl simply looked up at Edmund with a defeated expression, as if she should have expected something horrible to happen to her.
Edmund looked around for the girl’s mother. Surely, she must be nearby and would soon notice her daughter’s distress. But all the surrounding pedestrians passed them by without a second glance.
No one that he could see shared the girl’s coppery curls, freckled skin, or tiny upturned nose, which had started to drip pitifully onto her mud-splattered dress.
She sniffed quietly and rubbed her eyes but made no move to get up.
Edmund’s heart ached for her. He loved children (he had six of his own, for goodness sake, with a seventh on the way), and to see such a small girl with no one looking out for her—well, that simply would not do.
“Come along, boys,” Edmund said to his sons, “I believe I see a young lady in need of our help.”
Benedict reached her first. “Hullo,” he said brightly, “Are you having fun in the mud? My father won’t let us play in it.”
The girl’s brows furrowed, as if surprised to be addressed directly. As Edmund approached, her eyes widened in alarm, and she made a halfhearted attempt to scoot away.
Edmund removed his hat and gave her his kindest smile as he sat on his heels to address her. “Hello there, young Miss. It seems as if you might be in need of assistance. May we help you?”
She paused, considering the man and two older boys before her.
“Why doesn’t she say anything, Father?” Anthony asked after a beat.
“Maybe she’s too little,” reasoned Benedict. “Baby Fran doesn’t talk much yet, either.”
“Or maybe,” Edmund said, continuing to smile reassuringly at the girl, “She is simply careful with her words. That is a fine quality, young Miss. You are very clever to think before you speak.”
A dimple appeared in the girl’s cheek as she gave a tentative smile.
“I fell down,” she said quietly, but clearly.
“Oh dear,” said Edmund, making his eyes round with concern, “That must have been dreadful! But we all take a tumble now and then. No shame in that, so long as we pick ourselves up and try again!”
The girl’s smile grew, a sparkle appearing in her wide blue eyes. “Yes, I s’pose.”
“Would you like us to help you up, Miss?”
She scrunched her face, thinking hard. “Yes, I’d like that,” she declared.
What a bright girl she was, for one so young! Perhaps she would make a good playmate for Eloise and Daphne if her family lived nearby.
Edmund nodded at the girl. “Boys, can you please help this young lady to her feet?”
“You told us not to get muddy!” Benedict reminded him.
“Well, I believe we must make an exception when helping a damsel in distress,” Edmund said, winking at the girl. She ducked her head, pleased.
Both boys lit up. Before Edmund could change his mind, they splashed deeper into the puddle than was strictly necessary to pull her to her feet, and then led her to drier ground.
“You are not hurt, are you?” Anthony asked, straightening her wet dress while Benedict brushed off the worst of the mud.
She turned pink, as if she did not quite know what to do with all the attention she was receiving. “I am well.”
“What is your name?” Benedict asked.
“Pen-nelope. Feath-ring-ton,” the girl said slowly, with much concentration.
Featherington. No doubt she was the daughter of Baron Archibald Featherington. Edmund knew the man and his wife by sight but was not intimately acquainted with either.
He knew that Violet disparaged the Baroness Portia Featherington, thinking her little more than a crude social climber.
But if the couple had such a clever and charming little girl, perhaps there was more to the Featheringtons than met the eye.
On the other hand, it did not speak well of them that still no one seemed to be searching for Penelope.
Regardless, he knew who he should be looking for to reunite the girl with her family.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Featherington,” Edmund said, bowing in introduction to the tiny, mud-soaked figure. “My name is Lord Edmund Bridgerton. These are my sons, Anthony and Benedict Bridgerton.” Taking a cue from their father, Anthony and Benedict bowed as well.
Though she looked overwhelmed to have three gentlemen introducing themselves to her, Penelope dropped a clumsy, yet charming curtsy.
“Pleased to meet you, too,” she stammered, no doubt having been coached by her mother in the art of social niceties.
“Now that we are all acquainted, Miss Featherington,” said Edmund, “Is your mama nearby?”
“No…”
“Would you like us to help you find her?”
The girl bit her lip, casting her eyes to the ground. “She will be cross with me. I got my dress dirty.”
“Why would she be cross about that? It was an accident,” said Anthony, as if that solved the matter.
Penelope gave the older boy an exasperated look, and Edmund’s insides twisted.
While his sons could not fathom being punished for an accident, it appeared that Penelope Featherington, young though she was, was already intimately familiar with that feeling.
“I will speak with your mama, all right, Penelope? I will tell her it was not your fault.” Edmund was unsure if an explanation would be enough for Lady Featherington, but at the very least, he could try.
The twist in Penelope’s mouth betrayed her reluctance, but she nodded.
“Do you know which way your mama is?”
“That way,” Penelope pointed a chubby finger.
“Do you want me to carry you?”
Penelope’s eyes widened, “You’ll get dirty, too!”
Edmund pretended to consider this for a moment. Then, scooping Penelope up, he tossed her in the air and caught her as he had done dozens of times for his own children. Penelope squealed as she was airborne and giggled as he cradled her against his shoulder, her soggy dress soiling his coat.
“It is just a bit of mud, dear girl. Clothes will wash.”
Beaming up at him, Penelope patted Edmund’s lapel with her tiny hand.
“Now that he gets dirty, he says clothes will wash,” Benedict muttered toward Anthony as they started making their way up the hill.
“I heard that, Benedict,” Edmund said, causing Benedict to startle, then flash his father a crooked grin.
The Featheringtons were not visible from the top of the hill, so Edmund made his way toward a cluster of tents in the distance.
“You came so far all by yourself!” he said to Penelope, who giggled and squirmed in his arms, obviously proud of herself.
Briefly, Edmund hoped that he had not encouraged the girl to escape from her family again in the future.
But still, she had come this far and no one had noticed her?
At last, Edmund spied red hair. Underneath a bright yellow tent, Portia Featherington reclined like a queen in her seat, deep in conversation with Lady Araminta Cowper.
Some distance away, the two older Featherington girls (judging by their matching red hair) were in the thick of a screaming row. A row which went entirely unnoticed by Lady Featherington.
Edmund no longer wondered how the young girl shivering in his arms had made it all the way down the hill and into a mud puddle by herself.
Lady Featherington remained absorbed in her conversation as the three Bridgertons approached, only looking up when Edmund cleared his throat.
“Lord Bridgerton, what an unexpected delight!” Lady Featherington trilled, sweeping to her feet.
“Lady Featherington, Lady Cowper,” Edmund said, tipping his hat to the two women. “I believe we have someone who has been missing from your party.”
For the first time, Lady Featherington noticed that her own daughter was cradled in Lord Bridgerton’s arms.
“Why…there you are, Penelope, you cheeky girl! I have been so worried!” Her smile had a frozen quality, as if it were painted on.
“Indeed,” Edmund said flatly, causing Portia’s cheeks to flush slightly.
Penelope wiggled uncomfortably in Edmund’s grasp, her small chin starting to tremble.
Gently, Edmund tugged on one of Penelope’s bedraggled curls and made a silly face at her, causing her to giggle and kick her feet.
“Penelope, you are dirtying Lord Bridgerton’s clothes! And what on earth have you done to your pretty new dress?”
Penelope deflated, her eyes falling to the ground. “Sorry, Mama.”
“It was an accident,” said Edmund, “Miss Penelope fell into a mud puddle down the way there,” He indicated how far away Penelope had gotten, perhaps hoping to shame Lady Featherington a bit, but the Baroness did not react. “Now we are escorting her back.”
“But Lord Bridgerton, your fine coat…”
“Will wash, Lady Featherington,” said Edmund, “Your daughter is unhurt after taking such a large spill, but as you can see, she has gotten herself quite damp. Perhaps it is best that you take her home before she catches cold.”
“Yes…yes, of course, My Lord. I will take her home right away.”
Portia made no move to take Penelope from Edmund’s arms, so he set the girl carefully on the ground and watched her toddle back toward her mother. Lady Featherington swept her long skirts out of the grasp of Penelope’s muddy hands.
“Prudence, Phillipa! Time to go!” Lady Featherington called to her two older girls. Both complained loudly but started making their way back toward the tent. “Penelope, say thank you to the Viscount and the young Misters Bridgerton for taking care of you.”
Penelope stared up at the Bridgertons from behind her mother’s skirts, shy once again. “Thank you,” she said in a barely audible voice.
Bending down, Edmund took Penelope’s dirty hand in his. “Goodbye, Miss Featherington, I hope we will meet again soon! If your mama agrees, we would love to have you come play with my girls Daphne, Eloise and Francesca at Bridgerton House someday. I am sure you all would become the best of friends.”
“What a kind offer, Lord Bridgerton,” Lady Featherington purred, “We shall certainly accept your invitation someday.”
“We look forward to it,” Edmund said, tipping his hat. “Good day, ladies. Boys, time to go home.”
As the Bridgertons moved away from the Featherington tent, Edmund heard Lady Featherington scold her youngest daughter. “I have told you not to be so careless Penelope! Dirtying your fine new dress! Embarrassing me in front of Viscount Bridgerton! Your father will certainly hear of this when we get home!”
Looking back, Edmund saw Penelope shrinking under her mother’s critical gaze.
As the Featherington party made to leave the park, Penelope trudged at the rear, with no one holding her hand or paying her much notice at all.
Her gaze turned back to Edmund, who gave her an encouraging smile. Brightening slightly, Penelope waved at the Bridgertons before turning to trot behind her mother.
“Lady Featherington is a mean ol’ bat,” Benedict said, kicking a rock down the path.
“Benedict, you cannot SAY that about a lady. Right, Father?” said Anthony, looking up at Edmund for approval.
Although the boys believed themselves too old to hold their father’s hand, neither protested when Edmund took theirs.
“Benedict, your brother is correct. You cannot say such things about a lady. It is not polite. And,” he lowered his voice so that the boys had to lean in, “Sometimes, even ladies can be mean ol’ bats.”
Anthony and Benedict’s faces split into matching grins.
“I will not have you repeating that, boys,” said Edmund with a wink, “Especially not to your mother.”
After a moment of walking in silence, Anthony tugged at Edmund’s hand. “It is a shame that Miss Featherington has to live with a family like that.”
“You are right, son. It is a shame.”
“Well, is there anything we could do?”
“Yes, could we take her to live with us?” Benedict said, “We already have lots of little sisters. She would fit right in.”
Edmund gave a rueful smile. “That is very generous of you both, but we cannot interfere in someone else’s family. All we can do is be especially kind the next time we see her. If we do.”
“We will,” said Anthony, “She belongs to us Bridgertons. I have decided.”
“Well,” laughed Edmund, “Perhaps when you are all grown, one of you will want to marry Miss Featherington. Then she could truly be a Bridgerton.”
The boys exchanged horrified looks and immediately started making retching noises.
“Father, do not tease us. She is a baby! That would be like marrying Eloise!” Benedict declared, his face twisted in disgust.
“Your ages would not signify once you are all older,” said Edmund, unable to resist poking fun at Benedict a bit more, “But Miss Featherington would have to want to marry one of you. And likewise, one you would have to want to marry her.”
“Well, that will never happen,” said Anthony.
“I am never going to get married at all,” said Benedict.
“Is that so?” said Edmund, “I do not think your mother would be pleased to hear that.”
“Wellll…” said Benedict, “Maybe when I am really, really old and am done having fun I will get married. But not to Miss Featherington.”
“Maybe Colin can marry her,” said Anthony, “Then neither of us would need to.”
“Yes, Colin can have her,” agreed Benedict, happy to volunteer his five-year-old brother for a task that he himself did not wish to perform.
“None of you are old enough to worry about marriage, boys. Least of all Colin. I am simply teasing you,” said Edmund as they turned the corner onto their street.
“We know,” Anthony rolled his eyes, “even so, Colin should marry Miss Penelope when she is old enough.”
“Yes, he should,” said Benedict, “Rescue her from her mean ol’…I mean…from Lady Featherington.”
Upon entering Bridgerton House, Edmund left his soiled coat and the boys’ muddy shoes with Mrs. Wilson, their housekeeper.
The rest of the family was in the drawing room. Four-year-old Daphne was trying to coax three-year-old Eloise into playing with dolls, but Eloise was absorbed in turning the pages of a book that she was too young to read.
Baby Francesca—although, as she had recently turned two, perhaps she was too old to be called this—was examining her sisters with solemn eyes while leaning against Violet’s pregnant belly. Meanwhile, Colin was tucked sleepily under Violet’s other arm, Violet’s fingers running absentmindedly though his dark brown hair.
“Hello family,” Edmund said, dropping a kiss on his wife’s lips. Colin, Eloise and Daphne tumbled over each other like puppies trying to reach Edmund first.
Scooping Francesca from Violet’s arms, he kissed his daughter soundly on the cheek, causing her to giggle.
“Did you have a good afternoon, my dear?” he asked Violet, picking up Eloise with his free arm.
“Very pleasant, darling,” she replied, “We spent some time in the garden, and the children rested after that.”
“Not me!” said Colin, tugging at Edmund’s waistcoat. “I did not rest!”
“Is that so?”
The boy nodded, his proud smile showing a missing tooth.
“Were you not tired, then?” It seemed unlikely—Colin’s eyelids drooped even now.
Colin puffed out his small chest. “I was the man of the house while you lot were away. I had to stay awake to protect Mama and the girls.”
Edmund and Violet exchanged a smile, her eyes shining. “He did not leave my side all afternoon,” she said fondly, lifting Francesca out of Edmund’s arms, “He took his job very seriously.”
“We were only gone for a couple of hours,” laughed Anthony, “What could have happened in so short a time?”
Benedict snickered in agreement, causing Colin to wilt a bit.
Colin was Edmund in miniature, with Edmund’s straight nose and tender heart. At five, Colin still cried when he was angry and preferred his sisters’ company to Anthony and Benedict’s, even as he craved their approval.
“Boys, that is enough,” said Edmund, lowering a squirming Eloise to the floor, “Colin is correct, he was the man of the house. You did a wonderful job taking care of the family while I was away, son. Good lad.”
Colin blushed pink as Daphne grabbed his hand and led him toward her dolls, knowing he would be a more willing playmate than Eloise.
“How was the park?” Violet asked, leaning down to kiss her older boys’ cheeks.
“It was lovely,” Edmund said.
“Though muddy, I see,” said Violet, noticing the boys’ soiled hems, “I believe I asked you two not to leave the path?”
“Father said we could!” said Benedict.
“Oh, he did, did he?” Violet surveyed Edmund with raised eyebrows, causing him to grin sheepishly.
“He said we must make an exception for a damsel in distress,” added Anthony.
“A damsel in distress? My goodness, Hyde Park is certainly more dangerous than I remember,” Violet smiled, “Whom, may I ask, did my brave boys rescue?”
“Lady Featherington’s youngest daughter fell into a large puddle,” explained Edmund, “The boys and I assisted her.”
“I see,” said Violet, “And where was Lady Featherington for all of this?”
“About a mile away, gossiping with Lady Cowper,” said Benedict.
“He is exaggerating,” said Edmund, “Although she was much farther away than a girl Eloise’s size should have gone by herself.”
“I cannot say that I am surprised,” sniffed Violet. “Lady Featherington does not concern herself much with anything beyond her own nose.”
“Her elder daughters seem to be of the same temperament,” said Edmund, “but Miss Penelope was a charming girl. I believe our girls would adore her, and I told Lady Featherington as much.”
“A lovely idea, though they live on the far side of the park,” said Violet, “I do not think that she would travel such a distance simply for our children to play together. Although I am sure Lady Featherington would love to have some connection to the Bridgertons.”
“She will someday,” said Benedict, mischievously, “When Colin marries Miss Penelope!”
Colin’s head snapped up from his game. “What’s that?”
“We have decided, brother. Miss Penelope’s family is not kind to her, so she should be a Bridgerton. And if you marry her, she will be,” Anthony said.
Colin gave his father a quizzical look.
“Boys, enough. Nobody is marrying anybody. Certainly not today, at least,” said Edmund.
Colin’s eyebrows furrowed, clearly considering this exchange seriously, before Daphne drew his attention back to their game.
///
Dinners were always a noisy affair at Bridgerton House, and this evening was no exception. As Anthony and Benedict flicked peas at one another, Daphne ordered Eloise to sit up straight (which earned Daphne a sharp hair pull from an incensed Eloise), and Francesca employed all her concentration to aim her food at her mouth.
Only Colin remained quiet throughout the meal, which was unusual. At first, Edmund attributed his third son’s silence to fatigue. But instead, Colin’s mind seemed wholly absorbed by a puzzle that none of the other Bridgertons were privy to.
But the true indication that something was amiss was that Colin ate less of his dinner than usual and refused dessert. If Colin was refusing food, something must be very wrong, indeed.
“Are you well, dearest?” Violet pressed a hand to Colin’s forehead, then his cheeks.
“He is thinking about his future wife,” Benedict called from down the table, causing Anthony to choke on his drink.
“I am well,” said Colin faintly, ignoring his brothers’ laughter.
“Perhaps you should go to bed early. We do not want you to fall ill.” Violet rose to escort Colin to bed.
“Can Papa do it? Please?”
“Of course,” said Violet, casting worried eyes toward her husband.
Colin clung to Edmund like a monkey as he was lifted out of his seat. As they climbed the stairs, Edmund was struck with the realization that he would not be carrying Colin like this for much longer. The lad was tall for his age and growing like a weed.
Of course Edmund wanted his children to grow up tall and healthy, but did it have to happen so fast?
“Can you tell me a story, Papa?” Colin asked after he was settled comfortably in his bed. Outside the bedroom window, the rain had picked up again, beating against the glass.
“Of course,” Edmund said, smoothing Colin’s hair back from his forehead.
Colin’s favorite tales were those of adventure—far-off lands and pirate ships, bold knights and maidens fair. Right now, he was fascinated by stories of King Arthur and Camelot, so Edmund picked up the dog-eared book off the shelf.
As Edmund read, Colin’s eyelids began to droop. When Edmund believed his son asleep, he marked their page—a passage about King Arthur and Guinevere. But Colin’s voice piped up from the nest of blankets.
“Papa, can I ask you something?”
“Anything, son.”
“Miss Featherington. Penl…Pennell…”
“Why don’t you just call her Pen for now,” said Edmund with a smile.
“Pen, then. What is she like?”
“Why do you ask?”
“I simply wish to know.”
“Well,” said Edmund, not sure where this conversation was going, “Miss Penelope is a lovely girl. She is small for her age, with bright red hair and big blue eyes.”
“Yes, but what is she like?” Colin asked.
“She is…clever, like Eloise. She is very brave. She seems a bit shy, but she is charming and kind. Why do you wish to know?”
Colin fiddled with a loose thread on his nightclothes. “Well, if I am to marry her…”
“Colin, no,” laughed Edmund, “Your brothers were joking about you marrying her. Both of you are too little, and even if you were not, no one would expect you to marry Miss Penelope if you did not wish to. Your mama and I want you to be happy someday with someone you love.”
Colin’s chin wobbled. “But…is what Anthony said about her true?”
“What do you mean?”
“Is…is her family unkind to her?”
Edmund’s heart broke as he met Colin’s pleading blue eyes.
He and Violet had worked hard to create a loving home for their children. Their family was not perfect, far from it, but their home was warm and inviting, and his children adored each other.
They did not recoil from each other’s touch, as Lady Featherington did with Penelope. They did not ignore each other, as Penelope’s older sisters did to her.
Edmund perched on the edge of Colin’s bed. “We cannot judge someone else’s family by one brief interaction with them. It is not our place.”
“But still…do you think Pen is unhappy?”
Edmund pictured the girl’s face, already resigned to take care of herself since nobody would do it for her. However, it was not his son’s responsibility to worry so much about a girl he had never met.
“I think Miss Featherington is a brave girl. And I think that if we meet her again, she shall be a great friend to all of us. Yes?”
Colin nodded, still lost in thought.
“Get some sleep, Colin.” Edmund kissed his son’s forehead and leaned over to blow out the lamp beside the bed. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
///
Violet was already in her nightgown when Edmund entered their bedchamber some time later. “Mrs. Wilson is handling the children this evening,” she said, rubbing her swollen belly. “This child is very wearisome today. He will not stop kicking.”
Edmund climbed into bed and gently lay his palm on his wife’s belly. “Hello, child,” he whispered, “Can you please settle down so that your mama can sleep?” A series of fluttery kicks met his hand in response.
Laughing, Edmund pressed his lips to Violet’s stomach. “Cheeky, this one.”
“He will be a handful, I am sure,” said Violet.
“Are you so certain it will be a boy?”
“I believe he will be. After our three darling girls, I think we are due for another boy.”
“I will love our baby either way. But…it would be nice to have another baby boy now that Colin is growing up.”
“It would,” said Violet softly, curling her fingers into Edmund’s hair as he nestled against her shoulder. “Is Colin well? He was so quiet at dinner. I hope he is not coming down with something.”
“He was worried about young Miss Featherington,” said Edmund. “He heard Anthony say her family is unkind.”
“Dear boy,” said Violet, “Perhaps I should reach out to Lady Featherington tomorrow. As trying as that woman is, I would not refuse our children another playmate.”
“There is no rush, my love,” Edmund twined his fingers through hers. “You can wait until after the baby is born. I am certain that Colin will forget all about Miss Penelope by tomorrow anyway.”
///
Edmund did not recall falling asleep, but he was awoken some time later by an insistent knocking on the door. Violet stirred next to him.
“Go back to sleep, dear,” he murmured, smoothing her hair, “I will take care of it.”
He opened the door to find Mrs. Wilson. “Is everything well?” Edmund asked.
The older woman looked nervous. “You had best come with me, my lord.”
“The children…”
“They are…well. Just…come with me. Please.”
The light from Mrs. Wilson’s candle cast ghostly shapes on the walls as she led him toward the servants’ quarters. Outside, the rain still lashed against the windows.
“Miserable night,” Edmund remarked, “The children will not be pleased to be kept indoors again tomorrow.”
Mrs. Wilson cleared her throat. “Yes, my lord.”
Near the servants’ entrance, Mr. Davies, the Bridgertons’ head gardener, stood with his hat in his hands. The elderly man’s clothes were soaked through, and a puddle gathered underneath his feet.
“Sorry to disturb you, my lord, it is just…” Mr. Davies stepped aside, revealing a terrified-looking Colin.
The boy’s nightclothes and coat were mud-splattered from head to toe. His dark hair was plastered flat against his scalp, and even his eyelashes stuck together in wet, star-shaped points. He was trying his best not to cry.
“Colin, what on earth…” Edmund said, and Colin’s tears spilled over.
“I’m sorry, Papa, I’m sorry!” he wailed, rushing forward and clutching Edmund’s legs.
Edmund gathered his son in his arms and held him close. “It is all right son, hush now. Do not cry.”
“I was outside having a smoke before bed, under the gazebo there,” said Mr. Davies, “Wretched weather. And I saw young Master Colin sneak out the servants’ entrance and make toward the road. A hackney carriage almost hit him, poor lad. He just got a good drenching instead.”
“You have my gratitude, Mr. Davies,” Edmund fought back his own tears as he clutched his son. “Colin, what were you doing outside by yourself? That was a very foolish thing for you to do! You could have gotten hurt!”
Colin merely sobbed harder into his father’s chest, causing Edmund’s anger to ebb away. “Hush, dear boy. It is all right. You are safe, that is all that matters.
“Please, Mr. Davies,” Edmund addressed the older man, “Go dry off before you catch your death of cold. We can speak about this more tomorrow.
“Mrs. Wilson, please have a hot bath drawn for Colin. And…” he added as both parties made to leave, “Please do not mention any of this to Lady Bridgerton. I do not wish to worry her in her delicate condition.”
Both nodded and departed.
Colin hiccupped against Edmund’s neck as Edmund carried him through the darkened hallways.
In the bathing chamber, Edmund hung Colin’s wet clothes out to be gathered by the servants and gently wrapped his son’s body in a clean towel while the tub was being filled with hot water.
Once Colin was settled in the tub, Edmund dismissed the servants and gently started soaping Colin’s dark curls himself. The boy stared at his knees, sniffing pitifully.
“Colin,” Edmund said gently, “Look at me.”
Colin raised wet blue eyes to his father.
“I am not angry at you. But you scared me half to death. Do you know how hurt your mother and I would be if something worse had happened to you? And not just us, but your brothers and sisters? You are not replaceable, Colin. Our family needs you.”
Colin nodded, tears slipping down his round cheeks and splashing into the bath water.
“I need you to promise me that you will never do anything this reckless again. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Papa,” Colin whispered, “I am sorry.”
“All is forgiven,” said Edmund, rinsing Colin’s hair.
Once Colin was safely back in his room, Edmund sat on the edge of his son’s bed. “Now,” he said, “Can you tell me what exactly you were doing outside in the middle of the night?”
Colin chewed the inside of his cheek. “I…I was going to rescue Pen.”
“Pardon?” Edmund said, baffled.
“Pen. Miss Featherington. I thought I would rescue her. Bring her here. She could share Eloise’s room,” said Colin, tracing patterns on the yellow blanket with his fingers. “I am too little to marry her, like you said, so I just thought…this would be better. For now.” Colin peered up, his eyes still red from crying.
“Colin,” Edmund scrubbed his hands over his face. “How were you even planning to find the Featheringtons’ house…”
“Mama said it was on the other side of the park! I know where the park is!”
“There are dozens of houses on that side of town, son. Maybe hundreds. Even if you could walk all those miles by yourself in the dark, in the rain, something even I would not do, I might add…you could not have found…”
“I would have found it,” said Colin, stubbornly. “I would have searched and searched until I found her.”
Edmund sighed. Trying to dissuade a determined five-year-old was a near impossible task. But he could not risk Colin sneaking out of his bed that night, or ever again.
“Son, do you know how your mother and I tell you children not to go places with strangers?”
Colin nodded.
“Well, Miss Penelope’s mother would have taught her the same lesson. And right now, you are a stranger to her.”
“Oh…”
Edmund thought he had finally gained the upper hand, but Colin brightened. “You are not a stranger to Pen though! You could come with me!”
Edmund stifled a groan. “I am sorry, but we are not going to do that.”
“But why?”
“Colin, why is it so important that you rescue Miss Penelope?”
Colin shifted under the covers. “It is what a man is supposed to do. Protect ladies. Rescue damsels in distress. All my stories say so. And you protect Mama, and the girls…and I…I want to be just like you.”
A lump started to grow in Edmund’s throat. “It is very noble of you to want to take care of Miss Penelope. But…”
He searched Colin’s young face and saw unwavering determination. No reason that Edmund could give would change Colin’s mind, and furthermore, Edmund could not very well tell his son not to show compassion for others. His heart was in the right place, even if his methods were misguided.
So, he tried another tactic. “Colin, do you think Eloise needs someone to take care of her?”
Colin considered this. “Yes, because she is still little.”
“Yes. But if you asked Eloise if she needed to be taken care of, what do you think she would say?”
Colin giggled. “She would not care for that, not one bit.”
Edmund laughed. It was true enough—Eloise demanded to do everything by herself and pushed back hard when anyone tried to assist her. It did not matter how kind the other person’s intentions, or how old they were, Eloise simply would not bend her will to anyone. Though trying at times, it was an admirable trait for a girl so young.
“You see, with Eloise I take care of her by letting her take care of herself. I let her know that I love her, and that I will help her immediately if she needs me, but I let Eloise be Eloise.”
“So…” Colin scrunched his face in concentration, “You help Eloise…in secret? Without her knowing?”
“I suppose you may look at it that way, yes.”
Colin remained silent, letting this idea sink in.
“And with Miss Penelope, even if her family is unkind to her, which we cannot know for sure after only knowing her a short time, she still belongs to her family right now. We cannot change that.”
The corners of Colin’s mouth turned down. “But that is not fair!”
“No, it is not,” Edmund tucked the blankets closer into Colin’s body. “But what if I told you that I would keep an eye on Miss Penelope in secret like I keep an eye on Eloise? You do trust me, do you not?”
Colin nodded fervently. “Of course I do. And you would do that for me?”
Edmund smoothed back Colin’s damp hair. “Of course I will. I will make sure she is taken care of.”
Colin’s face broke into a sleepy grin, looking as if a large burden had been lifted from his small shoulders. “Thank you, Papa.”
“You’re welcome, son. Now,” Edmund kissed Colin’s forehead, “Go to sleep.”
As Edmund made to close the door behind him, he saw that Colin’s eyes had already started to flutter shut.
Edmund paused, gazing a little longer upon his sleeping son. He was not a particularly religious man, but as he watched Colin’s small form in the darkness, he whispered to God, or the universe, or whoever was listening—
“Please let him remain kind.
Please let him remain tenderhearted.
Please let him remain…Colin.”
And as if some entity heard Edmund, a contented smile stretched across Colin’s sleeping face.