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Chapter Text

[Madrid Airport]

Penelope Featherington and Andrew Davies weaved through the lively chaos of the bustling airport, the air alive with announcements and the hurried energy of travelers. They moved in sync, their playful banter a constant in their friendship. Andrew, dressed sharply in his signature casual-but-charming style, nudged Penelope toward a stylish woman waiting near the check-in counter.

“Go on, Pen. Ask for her number,” he teased, his smirk wide and knowing.

Penelope groaned, shooting him a look. “Why do I put up with you?”

“Because you have no choice,” Andrew quipped, leaning closer. “And because you can’t resist a dare.”

Rolling her eyes, Penelope grinned. She wasn’t about to let him win. “Fine.” 

She glanced back at Andrew, who gave her an exaggerated thumbs-up and a cheeky grin. She sighed, straightening her shoulders, and walked toward the stylish woman standing near the check-in counter. The woman, tall with blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, looked up from her phone as Penelope approached.

“Hi, sorry to bother you,” Penelope began, her polite smile firmly in place. “But, uh, my friend over there…” She subtly gestured toward Andrew, who was leaning casually against a nearby column, looking every bit the picture of confident charm. “He was wondering if he could get your number.”

The woman’s eyes widened immediately, darting to Andrew before snapping back to Penelope. Her expression shifted from neutral to nervous so fast that Penelope almost felt bad for bringing it up. “Oh, um…” the woman stammered, taking a step back. She glanced at Andrew again, then back at Penelope. “I don’t think so. He’s…” She hesitated, her voice dropping to a whisper as if Andrew might somehow overhear them from across the terminal. “He looks… quite intense. Like, too much.”

Penelope pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh. “He’s not that bad, I promise,” she said, though her amusement was barely contained. “He’s just a little overconfident sometimes. But he’s actually really nice.”

The woman shook her head quickly, clutching her purse a little tighter. “Sorry. He’s just… not my type.”

Before Penelope could say anything else, the woman turned on her heel and walked briskly away, leaving Penelope standing there with an amused smile playing on her lips.

She made her way back to Andrew, who was watching with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. “She said you’re too much,” Penelope teased, unable to keep from laughing as Andrew’s face fell into an exaggerated look of mock offense.

“Too much?” he repeated, clutching his chest as though he’d been mortally wounded. “I’m a delight! Who could possibly think I’m too much?”

“Apparently a stranger could.” Penelope giggled. “Honestly, I think you scared her off just by existing.”

Andrew groaned, dramatically running a hand through his hair. “Unbelievable. Maybe I’ll never find love, Pen.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Penelope rolled her eyes but smiled at him fondly. “You don’t need a random woman at the airport. You’ve got me. That’s more than enough entertainment for one lifetime.”

“True,” Andrew said, his smirk returning. “You do keep things interesting. But I think it’s just proof that I should stay single forever.”

“Join the club. Who needs complications, anyway?”

“You’ve been single for quite a while, Pen. Meanwhile, I’ve managed to stay single my entire life,” Andrew said, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“That’s because you’re the king of casual relationships,” Penelope shot back, nudging him playfully. “Maybe if you stopped juggling all those situationships and actually commit to someone, you might stumble upon true love.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow, his smirk morphing into something more curious. “Is that what you felt for Alfie?”

Penelope blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. “You know what,” she said briskly, brushing off the question, “we should really get to security before we miss our flight.”

“Aha!” Andrew grinned triumphantly. “Classic Penelope. Avoidance at its finest.”

“I’m not avoiding,” she huffed, quickening her pace toward the security line.

Penelope rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at her lips. Andrew always knew how to push her buttons, but he also knew when to let things go—and for that, she was grateful.

[Heathrow Baggage Claim]

Penelope scanned the rotating belt, her thoughts momentarily drifting to her sisters. Philippa had been over the moon about her recent honeymoon, texting Penelope nonstop about her plans to host a grand reunion dinner once everyone was back in London. Prudence, ever on top of things, had declared in their family group chat that she’d already claimed the largest room in the house.

“Yours is the blue one right?” Andrew said, breaking through her thoughts.

Penelope spotted her luggage and stepped forward, but Andrew beat her to it. With practiced ease, he grabbed her bag and set it down at her feet before she could even reach for the handle.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice softer now.

“What are best friends for?”

“Definitely not for being this helpful,” Penelope smiled, appreciating his thoughtfulness.

As they made their way toward customs, Andrew glanced at her. “You know, I can’t believe your sisters left us to fend for ourselves. What happened to family loyalty?”

“They offered to wait, but I didn’t want to hold them back. Besides, Philippa was dying to show Albion the estate, and Prudence needed to head back first due to work stuff.”

“Ah, classic Featherington sisters,” Andrew said, shaking his head. “Well, at least we’ll make a grand entrance. Nothing like being fashionably late.”

As they stepped into the arrivals area, Penelope spotted Philippa and Albion waiting by the barricades. They held a bright, oversized poster that read, WELCOME HOME, PENELOPE AND ANDREW! with two smiling stick figures drawn on either side. Philippa waved enthusiastically, and Albion gave them a polite nod, looking amused.

Andrew squinted at the sign. “Is that supposed to be me? Why do I look like a lopsided marshmallow?” 

Penelope pulled back from Philippa’s hug and turned to examine the poster, her face painted in an exaggerated caricature on one side. “Did you have to make it this big? And sparkly, Philippa?” 

“You haven’t been home in years, Pen! A little sparkle never hurt anyone. Plus, it's Andrew's first time. Welcome to London!”

Albion stepped forward, clapping Andrew on the shoulders with the enthusiastic charm of a man eager to bond. “Tried our best, mate.”

Philippa looped her arm through Penelope’s, tugging her toward the exit with an excited bounce in her step. “Let’s get you home, sis. I’ve got a whole list of things to fill you in on.”

Penelope raised an eyebrow, her voice dripping with playful disbelief. “You’ve only been here for a couple of weeks. There’s that much to catch up on?”

Andrew, unable to resist, chimed in with a smirk. “Is this what London’s like? Constantly drama-filled?”

“You’re officially part of the chaos now. Forget Madrid for a while…” Albion said heartily, giving Andrew a friendly pat on the back.

Andrew shot a playful glance at Albion. “Just so you know, I’ve been anticipating my induction into Mayfair drama.”

“Wait 'til dinnertime.” Penelope added with a mischievous grin, feeling a familiar warmth from being with her family again, even in the midst of their antics. “That’s usually when the real fun begins.”

[Featherington Estate]

The family gathered around the grand dining table in their newly acquired estate, the soft clink of cutlery and the hum of conversation filling the air. The evening had settled in with a comfortable ease. Penelope took in the lavish spread before her—a far cry from the simplicity of the meals during their travels.

Philippa, already well into the evening’s gossip, took a sip of her wine and glanced toward Penelope, her eyes twinkling. “So, you’re not going to believe this estate. It’s massive. Around fifteen bedrooms worth. I’m pretty sure it has more rooms than we have furniture for.” She gave a dramatic roll of her eyes, though there was a hint of pride in her voice.

"Fifteen?!" Penelope shook her head.

“Sounds like you’re all getting comfortable,” Andrew teased, twirling his fork through his pasta.

“Comfortable is an understatement,” Prudence continued. “The new investments have us all running around like mad, but thankfully, we will manage since you're both in London now.” She shrugged, taking another bite of her dinner.

"Right." Andrew swallowed his food slowly.

"Are the business chats done?" Portia, their mother and the matriarch of the family, set down her wine glass with a soft clink and cleared her throat. “Because I actually received a letter today,” she announced, her voice carrying the weight of something important. “An invitation from Violet Bridgerton. Apparently, she’d like to have tea. A welcome to Mayfair, of sorts.”

The mention of Violet Bridgerton sent a ripple of quiet through the table. Penelope felt a lump form in her throat, her fork pausing mid-air. Bridgerton. That name. It brought back a flood of memories. But that was years ago. She hadn’t thought of them in such a long time, not with all the distance of the last twelve years.

Philippa noticed the slight change in Penelope’s demeanor, a subtle shift that didn’t escape her sharp eye. “Are you alright, Pen?” she asked gently, noticing her sister’s sudden silence. “You look a little... distracted.”

Penelope gave a small, forced smile, brushing the moment off. “I’m fine, just thinking about you know, we used to see the Bridgertons all the time when we were kids. It’s... strange to hear about them again.”

Philippa nodded knowingly, her voice softening. “Well, I’m sure Lady Violet will be lovely. Tea sounds like the perfect way to start things off.”

Portia smiled, her eyes twinkling with the prospect of future socializing. “Actually, I’m looking forward to it. I do hope we can build some good relationships again in Mayfair. The connections, after all, are everything.”

The conversation shifted again, this time to the latest gossip. Philippa leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. “Speaking of the Bridgertons, have you heard the rumors about the wedding next month? Apparently, it’s called the wedding of the year.” She waggled her eyebrows, clearly relishing the scandalous details. “Everyone’s talking how there's a whole other reason why this wedding's been fast tracked. Some say a bun in the oven is the main reason.”

"Who's getting married from the Bridgertons, though?" Penelope asked softly.

Prudence, who had been quietly sipping her wine, raised an eyebrow. “Nevermind that. Have we got invitations? We just got back. I doubt if we’re even on their radar.”

Andrew, who had been quietly observing the conversation, shifted in his seat. “The Bridgertons are a big deal, right? I mean, I’ve heard of them, of course, but how does that work? Does one just show up to their lavish parties or—?” He trailed off, clearly fascinated by the dynamics of London’s elite social circles.

“Well, maybe after Violet and I reconnect soon, we’ll know for sure,” Portia said with a smile, eager to bring some clarity to the situation.

Andrew’s interest was evident as he looked from Portia to Penelope, his eyes widening with curiosity. “This is starting to sound like something out of a novel. A big shotgun wedding, all this history... I can’t wait to hear more.”

Penelope smiled, grateful for the distraction, but part of her wondered just how much she was truly ready to revisit her past.

Chapter Text

[At a posh Mayfair venue]

Colin Bridgerton clinked glasses with Marina Thompson, his sharp-witted best friend and confidant. Marina’s dry humor and candid insights had always been a grounding force for him, especially amidst the whirlwind that was the Bridgerton family. Tonight, they stood near the bar, comfortably removed from the lively crowd gathered to celebrate Eloise’s engagement. Colin leaned casually against the polished counter, his gaze sweeping over the room as he took in the familiar sight of his siblings mingling and laughing with friends.

“Two weddings in one year,” he muttered with a faint smirk. “When did we all get so old?”

Marina raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a knowing smile. “You’re not old, Colin. You’re just emotionally avoidant, unlike your siblings.”

He let out a genuine laugh, shaking his head. “And you’re ever-supportive, ever-delightful.”

“Hey, someone has to keep you humble,” she said before sipping her champagne.

Their eyes wandered across the room to where Lady Danbury and Lady Cowper appeared to be in the midst of a spirited discussion. Marina nudged Colin lightly. “Alright, let’s play. It's almost nine o' clock. What’s the drama over there?”

Colin smirked, leaning closer. “Lady Danbury is probably insisting her seat be near the exit so she can leave at will, while Lady Cowper is adamant that it’s already taken.”

“And your mother?”

“As the host, she’s undoubtedly pretending not to notice while somehow smoothing everything over with grace,” Colin said, watching Violet Bridgerton glide effortlessly through the crowd.

Marina grinned. “Your family really is a stage production.”

Before their banter could continue, the soft clinking of a spoon against a glass drew everyone’s attention. Standing atop a small platform, Eloise Bridgerton beamed at her guests, a glass of wine in one hand and Phillip Crane’s hand in the other. “Good evening, everyone!” Eloise began, her voice brimming with confidence. “Thank you all for being here tonight to celebrate this momentous occasion—or, as I like to call it, the day the unthinkable happened.”

The crowd reacted lightly and Phillip rolled his eyes fondly, taking the opportunity to cut in. “Unthinkable that you said yes, or unthinkable that I proposed in the first place?”

“Both!” Eloise shot back without missing a beat, earning another ripple of laughter. “For those of you who don’t know, I always swore I’d never marry—”

“And I swore I’d never fall for someone so stubborn,” Phillip interjected, grinning as Eloise playfully elbowed him.

“Well, clearly, we’re both terrible at keeping promises,” she quipped. “But I suppose if I had to be proven wrong, I’m glad it was by someone as patient and, let’s be honest, long-suffering as Phillip.”

Phillip took a mock bow to the sound of applause and good-natured whistles.

Eloise rolled her eyes dramatically but smiled, squeezing his hand. “In all seriousness, though, I’m incredibly lucky to have found someone who balances me out, challenges me, and makes life endlessly interesting. So, thank you, Phil. And thank you all for sharing in our joy tonight. Now, drink up and enjoy yourselves—it’s a Bridgerton party, after all!”

The room erupted into applause, glasses raised in cheers as Eloise and Phillip descended the platform to mingle with their guests.

At the bar, Colin and Marina exchanged amused glances. “Well, that’s one way to keep things lively,” Colin said, his smirk widening.

“I’ve always liked El,” Marina said, stifling a giggle. “She’s unpolished in the best possible way. And Phillip? Surprisingly charming for a man who just got publicly roasted. No wonder they’re getting married.”

“Eloise has a gift for keeping everyone on their toes.”

Marina leaned in conspiratorially, lowering her voice. “Admit it—you were hoping she’d roast you next.”

Colin feigned shock. “Why on earth would I want that?”

Their shared amusement was interrupted as Eloise appeared at Colin’s side, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Brother, there you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!”

“I’m always by the sidelines, El,” he replied, smiling at her exuberance. “Nice speech, by the way.”

“Thanks! Anyway, guess who might be coming to the wedding?” she leaned in conspiratorially.

Colin raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to make me guess, or…?”

Eloise’s grin widened. “It’s the Featheringtons!”

The name hit him like a tidal wave, but he fought to maintain his composure. “Penelope's back?”

“Yes! They're finally back in London,” another voice chimed in—Violet Bridgerton, ever poised and gracious. “Thankfully, I met with Portia for some tea last week. They seem eager to reconnect with old friends. She even invited me to their new estate. Though, I haven't had the time for a visit yet.”

Colin nodded stiffly, swallowing the lump rising in his throat. He could feel Marina’s inquisitive gaze fixed on him. “I’m sorry, who’s Penelope?” Marina asked, her interest unmistakable.

“Do you want to answer that, or shall I?” Eloise interjected, her grin teasing as she relished the moment.

“She was my childhood best friend,” Colin said, forcing a nonchalance he didn’t feel.

"Was?" Eloise frowned. "It was sad when you guys lost touch."

“She moved to Spain about twelve years ago.”

“Twelve years?” Violet mused, tilting her head thoughtfully. “Has it really been that long?”

“Why I haven’t heard her name since forever is what I find interesting…” Marina’s eyes glinted with intrigue. “But I can’t wait to meet her. Any best friend of Colin Bridgerton must be fascinating.”

“Col, you never mentioned Penelope?” Eloise asked, turning to her brother with a raised brow.

Colin bit his lip, managing a faint smile even as his mind raced. The name Penelope had been repeated so many times in just a few minutes that it unearthed a deep ache he thought he’d buried long ago. For years, he had thrown himself into his globe-trotting career, purposefully avoiding Spain with a precision even Marina wasn’t aware of.

As if sensing his unease, Marina tapped her chin thoughtfully. “This wedding is starting to sound more interesting by the second. Think I can tag along as your plus-one?”

Colin pursed his lips. “As I’m not dating anyone, I was counting on you to say yes.”

“Of course,” she replied breezily, flashing him a reassuring smile. “As always, I am your loyal wingwoman.”

Eloise chuckled at their banter but didn’t miss the flicker of unease in her brother’s eyes. Her knowing gaze lingered on Colin for a moment before she disappeared back into the crowd with Violet. "Please join us in the ballroom for some dancing?"

Colin didn't budge.

"You heard that?" Marina leaned closer, her teasing demeanor giving way to concern. “Earth to Colin? You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said too quickly, draining the rest of his drink in one swift motion. "What do you say we get out of here?" But fine was the last thing he felt. The thought of seeing Penelope loomed over him, stirring emotions and questions he had spent over a decade running from.

[Poolside, Featherington Estate]

Penelope reclined on a lounger, her straw hat tilted just enough to shield her eyes from the soft golden light of the late afternoon sun. It was a rare and cherished moment of stillness after days of endless moving and settling in the house, and she intended to savor it. Beside her, Andrew sat cross-legged on a cushioned chair, his notebook resting on his lap. The sound of his pencil scratching softly against the paper was soothing, almost hypnotic.

“Are you done yet?” Penelope asked without moving her head, her voice teasing yet relaxed. "I think I may need to go to the bathroom."

“Almost,” Andrew replied, his tone distracted as he concentrated on the final touches of his drawing.

In the pool, Philippa and Albion floated lazily on inflatable loungers, sipping martinis from bright glasses. Philippa also wore an enormous hat that rivaled Penelope’s, and Albion had donned a pair of ridiculous sunglasses shaped like pineapples. Across the patio, Prudence was perched under the shade of a large umbrella, flipping through the pages of a thick novel. She seemed blissfully unbothered, her focus unwavering even as Philippa’s enthusiastic splashes sent ripples of water toward her.

The idyllic scene was abruptly shattered by a familiar voice cutting through the tranquil air like the sharp peal of a bell. “There you all are! I thought you were all out of the house.” Portia’s commanding tone rang out as she marched toward them, her stride brisk and purposeful. In one hand, she clutched a square envelope, her gloved fingers brandishing it like a prize.

Penelope groaned softly and leaned toward Andrew. “Think we can pretend we didn’t hear that?”

“Not if you value your sanity,” Andrew said with a grin, sitting up as Portia bore down on them like a gale. “Good afternoon, Lady Featherington,” he greeted with exaggerated cheer.

“Good is one way to describe the afternoon, Andrew!” Portia declared triumphantly, waving the envelope in the air as though it were a royal decree. “Girls, I have the best news! We have just received our official invitation to the Bridgerton-Crane wedding! It’s happening in a few weeks, and they’ve reserved six seats for us!”

Philippa’s squeal of delight was instantaneous. She flailed her arms in excitement, splashing water everywhere before she clumsily climbed out of the pool. “Oh, how wonderful! Albion, isn’t this exciting?”

Albion, unflappable as ever, raised his glass in a lazy toast. “Wonderful, my dearest,” he said with a contented smile.

“And I can add amazing to that!” Portia continued, her voice taking on its usual commanding tone. “Now, listen carefully. Penelope, Andrew—you are to be each other’s plus-ones. No arguments!”

Andrew blinked, his expression torn between amusement and bewilderment. “I wasn’t planning to argue, but—”

“You simply must accompany us. And, naturally, you’ll need a new suit. We're all walking to a Bridgerton wedding looking less than impeccable. We must give a good first impression, as we are back in town.”

“Well, I suppose I don’t have a choice then,” he said with mock resignation.

“Of course you don’t,” Portia said with a satisfied nod before shifting her focus to Prudence. “As for you, Prudence, you need not trouble yourself with finding a date. You shall accompany me—a most dignified arrangement, don’t you think?”

Prudence didn’t even look up from her book. “Whatever you say, Mother.”

“Excellent,” Portia replied, entirely unbothered by Prudence’s lack of enthusiasm.

By now, Philippa had grabbed a towel and was furiously drying herself off, her excitement bubbling over. She bounded toward Penelope and Prudence, her hair dripping onto the patio tiles. “We must get new dresses made for the occasion! Pen, you’ll help me pick something, won’t you? Something grand and lovely and sparkly! Oh, and Prudence, you too!”

Prudence finally looked up, her expression flat. “I’ll wear whatever fits.”

Penelope stifled a laugh, exchanging an amused look with Andrew.

“Of course,” Philippa said breezily, completely missing the sarcasm. “We’re Featheringtons. We must be the best-dressed there!”

"In the Bridgerton-Crane wedding?" Penelope wondered out loud. She didn't mean it but her comment left her lips too late.

Portia clapped her hands together, as if to finalize the matter. “Exactly my point! Now, everyone, remember we have work to do! Dresses to design, tailors to call, and preparations to make! When you’re done lounging about, come inside so we can start discussing details.” She turned on her heel, already muttering an extensive to-do list under her breath as she strode back toward the house. "This weekend's going to be interesting!"

Andrew leaned back in his chair, watching her go. “Your mother never misses a beat,” he commented dryly.

Philippa loomed over him suddenly, shrieking with delight. “Andrew! Did you really draw that just now?” She gestured at his sketchbook, her eyes wide with amazement. "You really have impeccable talent!"

Andrew hesitated, clearly caught off guard by the attention. “It’s just a quick sketch—nothing fancy.”

“But it is fancy!” Philippa said, her voice an octave higher than usual. “Oh, it’s beautiful! Look, Pen, it’s you!”

Penelope leaned over to peek at the sketch. Her profile was captured in delicate pencil strokes, her expression peaceful as she sipped her drink. She smiled softly. “You’ve memorized my side profile, haven’t you?”

Andrew shrugged with a small grin.

Philippa clasped her hands together dramatically. “Oh, would you sketch me and Albion on your free days? Pretty please? I’d love to frame it and put it on my nightstand.”

Andrew sighed. “How can I say no to that?”

“You can’t!” Philippa declared triumphantly, skipping off towards her husband. “Albie, guess what!?”

[One of the study rooms, Featherington Estate]

Prudence was seated in her usual corner chair, her posture straight and composed, her attention fixed on a pile of documents in her lap. Across from her, Penelope sat curled up on the couch, a faint frown creasing her brow as she idly fiddled with the edge of a pillow. "What a weekend, huh?" Prudence muttered under her breath as she continued skimming through the pages.

“I suppose the days of lounging in Spain are officially behind us,” Penelope said lightly, though her voice carried a wistful edge.

Prudence looked up from her work, her expression softening. “They are,” she replied. “Back to reality, as they say.”

Penelope studied her sister for a moment. “You’ve changed, Pru.” she said, her tone probing but not unkind. "You weren’t like this a few months ago.”

“I suppose I have. Being the eldest comes with responsibilities I can’t ignore. Now that we’re back, our family relies on me to take things seriously. Having fun isn’t exactly a priority anymore.”

Penelope tilted her head, her gaze thoughtful. “But do you ever miss it?”

A small smile played at the corners of Prudence’s lips. “Of course, I do. But someone has to keep things in order. Mother may act as if she’s in control, but we both know it’s a fragile sort of control at best. And Philippa, bless her, is happier dreaming about and living her blissful wedded life than dealing with numbers.”

Penelope nodded slowly, drawing her knees up to her chest. “I get it. It just feels so different, being back here. I won't lie. Spain was...an escape.”

“Are you happy to be back, Pen?” Prudence asked, her tone gentler now.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “It feels strange, like I don’t belong here anymore. I barely know anyone, and everything feels foreign. I know that London is our home now, but it doesn’t feel like it yet.”

“You’ve always been good at finding your place. Give it time. You’ll see.” She leaned back on the chair. “What are your thoughts about us attending the Bridgerton-Crane wedding?” Prudence asked, her voice light but her eyes sharp with curiosity.

“I have no thoughts.”

Prudence arched a brow. “Are you sure?” she pressed, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips. “You’re going to see him again.”

Penelope’s expression didn’t change, but her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve. “You know what’s funny? We’ve been back for almost two weeks, and I haven’t bumped into him. Maybe he’s not in town.”

Prudence tilted her head, giving her sister a pointed look. “There is a Bridgerton wedding. Of course, he’s going to be around.”

Penelope stayed silent, her face unreadable as she leaned back against the sofa.

Prudence studied her sister carefully before speaking again, her voice softer this time. “Are you ready to see your childhood best friend again?”

Penelope let out a slow breath, her gaze drifting toward the window where the afternoon light cast a golden hue over the room. “Maybe not,” she admitted quietly. “We were so close when we were younger, but... a lot has changed. I’m not that girl anymore—and I’m sure he’s not the same either.”

“Change isn’t necessarily a bad thing,” Prudence said after a moment, her voice thoughtful. “Sometimes, it’s what we need to move forward. Look at us now, a couple of months ago we were living our best lives in Madrid, now we're back in Mayfair.”

“Maybe. But I suppose it’s silly to hope things will be the same when I’m not even sure I want them to be.”

“You’ll figure it out. And whatever happens, you have me—and the rest of our chaotic family—to fall back on.” Her lips twitched upward. “And don’t forget, Andrew’s with us now. He’s practically a buffer for all things awkward.”

"That's true." That earned a soft laugh from Penelope, some warmth returning to her expression. “Thank you, Pru. I suppose I needed to hear that.”

“Anytime,” Prudence said, her smile gentle. Then she gestured to the pile of ledgers on the table between them. “Now, since we’re on the topic of facing responsibilities, care to help me with these? I need a proofreader.”

Penelope groaned dramatically, grabbing a pillow and tossing it at her sister. “Not a chance! Mother’s already assigned me to help out with Marketing. Her words, 'put your degree to use' come to mind. Isn’t that enough?”

Prudence caught the pillow with a laugh, shaking her head. “Fine, fine. But if you ever need a break from all that, the ledgers on this desk will be waiting.”

Penelope grinned, sinking back into the cushions. “I’ll keep that in mind...but don’t hold your breath.”

Chapter Text

[Penelope's room, Featherington Real Estate Offices]

Penelope stepped into her new office, the crisp scent of fresh paint still lingering in the air. The space was bright, with tall windows letting in the London sunshine, but there was something about it that felt cold—empty, even. It was a far cry from the warmth of the sun-dappled patio in Spain, where she'd spent countless afternoons getting inspired through her books and the scenic views. Now, back in London, she felt a distant tug in her chest, missing the easy rhythm of her life before everything changed. She sank into her desk chair, letting out a soft sigh. The onboarding meeting had gone well enough—she was settling into her new role as assistant vice president of the marketing and publicity department for their family’s real estate business—but it had been long and exhausting. Her mind buzzed with the endless tasks ahead, the strategies she would need to implement, the new faces she’d have to get to know and impress, and the long hours that would surely follow.

As Penelope relaxed for a moment, the door creaked open, and Andrew poked his head in. “Busy?” He looked as calm and collected as ever, despite the chaos of the Featherington offices.

Penelope raised an eyebrow at him. “Save me?”

“From what?”

“All this.” She pointed at the pile of work on her desk that had accumulated since she got back from her meeting.

“Hmmm, I can fix things up for you,” he replied with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was wearing his signature tailored blazer, though this time paired with worn jeans, as if trying to make himself comfortable in this space that was just as unfamiliar to him as it was to her.

“You can?”

“Well, I can’t do anything about that. But…” He stepped into the office. “Look, I know you’re still getting settled, but I figured I can give your office a little makeover.”

"Andrew, they just painted the walls.” She sighed. “I’m rather okay with how this space looks like."

“Well, that is exactly why you need a bit of style to make the place feel more like you,” Andrew said, grinning as he began to unroll the fabric swatches on her desk. “As the resident interior designer, this space is far from inspiring. Let’s fix that, shall we?” He started arranging the swatches, pulling out colors that ranged from deep emerald to soft gold, and began mapping out a design for her office. Penelope leaned back in her chair, watching him with a mix of amusement and admiration. Andrew always had a way of making things come alive, whether it was a room or a space.

“You’re de-stressing yourself by diving into another passion project, aren’t you?” Penelope smiled softly, her gaze turning distant as she thought back to when she and Andrew were younger, back when everything was simpler. They’d spent so many days wandering through the streets of Madrid, talking about their dreams, laughing over nothing in particular. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said quietly, her voice almost a whisper. “I think I’d be completely lost without you around.”

Andrew met her eyes. “Pen, are you going sentimental on me, right now?”

“Just feeling grateful. That’s all.” Penelope felt a sudden swell of gratitude, but before she could say anything else, Andrew gestured toward her desk.

“We could get rid of the beige walls, replace the furniture with something more streamlined and modern, and add some greenery. Maybe a few paintings.”

Penelope tilted her head, taking in the space with a new perspective. “You’re right. It does feel a bit... dull, doesn’t it?”

[Terrace, Bridgerton Estate]

Violet Bridgerton, the ever-gracious matriarch, sat with a delicate cup of tea in hand, her gaze following the subtle movements of Eloise and Phillip—as they stood near the open balcony doors. The sound of conversation drifted to Violet’s ears, a gentle breeze ruffling the curtains.

Eloise, now engaged and glowing with the excitement of her upcoming marriage, was eagerly talking about her and Phillip’s future. Violet, though overjoyed by the union, couldn’t help but feel a pinch of worry about her daughter’s transition to married life. The thought of Eloise leaving her childhood home to begin her new life was bittersweet. “Eloise, darling,” Violet said, setting down her tea. She rose from her seat and gracefully approached her daughter and her soon-to-be son-in-law, “Have you two given any thought to where you’ll be staying after the wedding?”

Eloise turned toward her mother, her eyes filled with excitement and a hint of impatience. “Oh, Mother, of course we have. We’ve discussed this for weeks now.”

“Yes, but you must understand,” Violet said, her tone soft yet insistent, “There’s no need to rush. We have several lovely properties available, and I’d be more than happy to offer you one of the apartments. It would be so convenient for you both, and you’d have all the space you need.”

Phillip, who had always admired Violet’s warmth and attention to detail, smiled politely. “We appreciate the offer, Lady Violet, truly. But Eloise and I have decided we want to find a place of our own. We want to start our new life with the excitement of choosing a home that’s entirely ours.”

“You’re sure about this?” Violet asked, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness, though she tried to mask it with a smile. “There’s so much to be said for the convenience of staying close by. It would be so easy for me to keep an eye on you—”

“Mother, you know we adore you,” Eloise interrupted with a playful smile, “but we do want our own space. We’ll visit you, of course. Often.”

Violet sighed, resigned to her daughter’s wishes but still finding it hard to let go. “Very well,” she conceded. “But do let me help in the process. I have several excellent contacts who could assist you in finding something lovely. For example, I wonder if the Featheringtons might have something more modern to offer you both.”

The sound of footsteps interrupted her thoughts, and Violet turned to see her eldest son, Colin, stepping onto the balcony. His tall frame filled the doorway as he casually leaned against the doorframe, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Colin?” Violet teased, though her tone was light.

Colin grinned, stepping into the room. “I couldn’t help but overhear. So, are they both determined to find a place of their own?”

Violet nodded, though she couldn’t quite hide the small flicker of disappointment in her eyes. “It seems so. They want their independence, and I suppose that’s only natural.”

"Natural indeed." Eloise smiled before dragging her fiancé out of the room. “See you tonight, mother. Phillip and I are off for some wedding errands.”

Colin’s smile softened as the two walked past him and before entering the room. “I get it, Mum. It’s a big step for Eloise. But I think she and Phillip will be fine. Like how my siblings are more than fine.”

Violet said with a sigh, returning to her seat. “So, Colin,” she said, her voice quiet, “Are you staying in Mayfair for the summer, or will you be leaving soon after the wedding?”

Colin turned toward her, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “I’m not sure yet,” he replied, his voice far from certain. “I suppose I’ll stay for a bit. The wedding will keep me occupied, but after that, who knows?”

Violet nodded, pursing her lips as she considered his words. She knew her son was always in motion, never one to settle in one place for long. But something about his response seemed off.

“Have you gone to the Featheringtons yet?” Colin asked, his tone nonchalant as he leaned against the doorframe.

Violet raised an eyebrow. “I’ve recently only had tea with Portia. Why do you ask?” She gave him a pointed look. "Do you want to join me when I go and visit?"

"Oh, I have no particular reason."

“The Featheringtons have been quite prominent in the real estate world lately. You might want to reconnect with them. I wouldn’t be surprised if you ran into them at the wedding—if they bother to RSVP, of course.”

“They haven’t sent their RSVPs yet?”

“Not one for the six seats I’ve reserved.”

“Six?” Colin asked, raising an eyebrow. “I thought they were just four?”

Violet gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. “Philippa got married recently,” she explained, her tone thoughtful. “So, that brings the total to five.”

Colin gave a small pause before asking, “So who’s the last seat for?”

“I’m not entirely sure. But, honestly, why does it matter? We’ve got plenty of space at the reception. It’s not like we’re lacking room.”

Colin was struck by her matter-of-fact response. Of course, it didn’t matter. The Featheringtons, with all their social maneuvering, could have anyone accompanying them. The last empty seat could be for Portia’s new husband, a distant cousin, or even a plus-one for one of the two remaining Featherington sisters. Whoever it was, it hardly made a difference in the grand scheme of things.

[Furniture store]

Colin strolled through the furniture store, half-listening as Marina vented about the sorry state of her mattress at home. She’d been complaining for weeks now, insisting it was only a matter of time before the frame gave out. “I swear, even the slightest shift makes the bed creak like it’s collapsing. It’s embarrassing. I don’t need a sound effect every time I go to bed.”

Colin smirked, his hands in his pockets. “You sure you’re not just trying to wake the neighbors with your... noisy habits?”

“Seriously, I need something better. This is beyond tolerable.”

He nodded, gesturing toward a particularly plush mattress. “Well, if comfort’s what you’re after, I’m sure this one would do.” His lips twitched with amusement. “Looks like it could swallow you whole.”

Marina climbed onto the bed with all the enthusiasm of someone escaping months of discomfort. She bounced a little, grinning. “I could fall asleep right here.”

“I should worry if you do. Carrying you out of here isn’t part of the deal.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she teased.

A loud voice cut through the store, drawing their attention. “Penelope! We’re just looking, there’s no obligation to buy!” the man’s voice rang out with the excitement.

Colin turned toward the sound without thinking, his heart suddenly skipping a beat. And there, across the store—was Penelope Featherington.

It took him a moment to register what he was seeing. She was standing several feet away, animatedly discussing something, her hands gesturing as she made her point. Colin's chest tightened, and for a brief moment, he could barely breathe. Penelope looked so different, yet unmistakably herself. The last time he had seen her was in their teenage years, and now, seeing her alive with movement—laughing, confident, radiant—it shocked him in a way he hadn’t prepared for. He couldn't quite place it—was it the confidence in her posture? The way she spoke so naturally? Or perhaps it was the way her hair caught the light, soft waves framing her face in a way that made her seem more poised than he remembered?

“Who are you staring at?” Marina asked, leaning closer to get a better look.

Colin didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on Penelope.

Marina nudged him playfully. “Her boyfriend’s cute,” she murmured, tilting her head to the side. “He's giving very ‘mysterious heartthrob’ vibe. You don’t see many of those around here.”

“What?” Colin asked.

Marina grinned, clearly enjoying herself. “Look at the man—great bone structure, and that mullet somehow works. He’s very conventionally attractive, don’t you think? He's obviously a foreigner, not from London.” Colin frowned but found himself examining the man from where they hid behind a row of display closets. The guy with Penelope as he had overheard earlier, was undeniably handsome. His tanned complexion and sharp features gave him an effortless charm, and his long, wispy mullet framed his face in a way that somehow made him stand out even more. “Do we know the girl?”

“It’s Penelope.” Colin answered.

“Penelope as in Penelope your childhood best friend, Penelope Featherington? She's the one?” Colin didn’t say word but his silence spoke volumes. “Wow, Col. She’s a beauty!” Marina sighed dramatically. “I mean, if she’s gorgeous from this far, can you imagine what she’s like up close?” The comment struck Colin harder than he expected. He glanced at Penelope again, her auburn waves catching the light as she turned to laugh again. Marina wasn’t wrong, and Colin hated how quickly the thought lodged itself in his mind. “Stop gawking, Bridgerton. You’re being obvious,” Marina teased.

“I’m not gawking,” Colin turned his gaze back to the bed display in front of him.

Marina raised an eyebrow, her smirk deepening. “Can't blame you. She is super glowing. You must’ve had no idea she’d grow up to look like that.”

Colin clenched his jaw, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. “We’re here for furniture. Focus.”

Penelope’s name rang out again, this time in Philippa’s voice, loud and bright. “Penny, we're here! There you guys are!”

Colin instinctively turned toward the sound. He watched as Penelope’s face lit up, her smile broadening as she turned to greet her sisters. “We... we should leave,” he muttered, not entirely sure why he was suggesting it.

But Marina, always one to push boundaries, gave him a pointed look. “What? I haven’t even chosen a new mattress yet,” she replied, her tone playful. She leaned in closer, whispering in his ear, “Look, why don’t you just say hello?”

“What? No! This isn't the place for that.” Colin swallowed hard. His thoughts were a whirlwind, and he found himself unable to give her a proper answer.

"What on earth do you mean?" It was then that Marina’s voice cut through again, this time with a teasing smirk. “Tell me, Col. Where would be an appropriate place to say hello to old friends?” She raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying his discomfort.

Colin exhaled sharply. “I think I... think I need some air,” he muttered, his voice tight. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but all he knew was that he needed a moment to gather himself.

Chapter Text

Penelope stood staring at the receipt in her hand as if it might somehow reveal the meaning of life. Her gaze shifted to the couch—her new couch—sitting proudly against the far wall of the store display. It was modern, plush, and upholstered in a deep forest green that exuded understated elegance. Yet, she wasn’t entirely sure she loved it.

“I can’t believe I just bought a $2500 couch,” she murmured, more to herself than to Andrew.

“Correction,” Andrew interjected with a mischievous grin as he stepped back to admire the furniture. “You bought the couch. And it’s perfect for its price. Look at it—it screams sophistication!”

“Andrew, I thought we were just browsing, not… committing!”

“What can I say? You got a little nudge from your sisters and a hefty dose of my useful insights. Besides, Philippa is convinced the Featherington offices need my magic touch—and, let’s be honest, she’s absolutely right.”

"She doesn't even go to work there!" With a soft groan, Penelope ran her fingers through her hair. “I really shouldn’t let you or my sisters talk me into these things. I have budgets. Plans. This wasn’t part of them.”

“That couch isn’t just furniture—it’s a testament to positive change. And that, my dear, is priceless.”

Despite herself, Penelope felt a reluctant smile tug at her lips. She shook her head. “You’re impossible.” Before Andrew could retort, Penelope’s phone buzzed. Glancing at the screen, she said, “Pru sent the address of that café she wants to try. It’s just a few blocks from here. Walk with me?”

At that moment, Philippa’s car rolled up to the curb. Prudence leaned out of the open window, her face alight with cheerfulness. “We’ll go ahead and grab a table as it gets full!” she called, waving enthusiastically. “Are you sure you don’t want to ride with us?”

Penelope folded her arms and quirked a brow. “I think I need a little time to process my impulse purchase.”

“Suit yourself, sissy! See you in fifteen minutes!” Philippa chimed, waving as the car sped off.

Andrew turned to Penelope, offering her his arm in an exaggeratedly formal gesture. “Shall we begin our stroll, my lady? Perhaps some fresh air will help brighten your mood?”

Penelope laughed, unable to help herself, and slipped her arm through his. “Fresh air in London? Are you hearing yourself?!” 

Colin gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white as he drove away from the furniture store. Marina sat beside him, her hands folded neatly on her lap, her silence heavy and deliberate.

After several blocks, Marina finally exhaled and broke the silence. “You know, I still don’t have a bed to sleep on tonight.”

“You can stay over at Mayfair,” he offered casually, as though the suggestion was nothing out of the ordinary. “There are dozens of empty guest rooms over there.”

Marina arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. “I don’t exactly feel like packing my things just to camp out at Mayfair.”

Without missing a beat, Colin shot back, “I’ll pack for you.”

That earned him a sharp look. “You’d pack my things?” she repeated, her tone laced with skepticism.

“Why not? I’m efficient,” he said with a faint smirk, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "I travel for a living, remember?"

Marina leaned back in her seat, folding her arms across her chest. “My apartment is closer to where I work,” she pointed out, her voice steady and calm.

“I’ll drive you to and from work for a week,” Colin replied, his tone so nonchalant it was almost irritating.

Marina turned her head fully to face him now, her gaze scrutinizing. “Colin Bridgerton, you are the master of avoidance. Do you know that?”

The faint smirk slipped from Colin’s face, replaced by a flicker of irritation. He didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

“Let’s take a break,” Marina said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. “We’ll grab something to eat, and then we’ll go back to the furniture store so I can buy the mattress I want. Or are you seriously going to this much trouble to avoid your childhood best friend?”

“Marina,” he started, his voice low and warning, but she cut him off.

“Don’t ‘Marina’ me,” she said sharply. “You’re avoiding this entire situation like your life depends on it. And for what? What happened to you twelve years ago, Colin? Why does seeing her—just seeing her—throw you so completely off balance?”

They drove in silence for a few more minutes before Colin suddenly turned into a side street, pulling the car to a stop outside the newly opened café in town. The engine idled for a moment before he killed it, the silence inside the car growing even heavier. He unbuckled his seatbelt but made no move to get out immediately. Instead, he stared out the windshield, his expression unreadable. Marina waited, giving him space to speak if he wanted to. But he didn’t. “Let’s eat. I'm hungry.” he muttered finally, pushing the door open and stepping out of the car.

Marina followed him, her heels clicking softly on the pavement. She was tempted to press him further, to demand answers, but something about the stiffness in his shoulders told her now wasn’t the right time.

Soon, they walked inside and the warm scent of freshly baked bread and coffee greeted them as they took a table near the window. Colin stared down at the menu, his eyes scanning the options without really reading them. Marina watched him for a moment before deciding to give him a reprieve—for now. “You’re not getting off the hook that easily,” she said lightly, picking up her own menu. “But I’ll let you pretend this isn’t about her. At least until we finish eating.”

“How generous of you,” he murmured.

“But seriously, Col. How can I understand if you're not telling me anything?"

He finally looked up, meeting her gaze with a guarded expression. “It’s complicated,” he said simply, his voice quiet but firm.

Marina raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by the vague response. “Life’s complicated. That’s not an answer.”

"I'll tell you when I'm ready." But he didn’t elaborate, instead signaling to the waiter to take their orders. Marina sighed, deciding to let it go for now. She knew Colin well enough to recognize when to push and when to wait.

"Andrew! Over here!" Philippa waved her hand, catching Andrew's attention as they entered the café, signaling where they could sit. After a short walk from the furniture store, they had definitely worked up an appetite. 

At the same time, across the room, Marina was effortlessly steering the conversation, her light laughter filling the air as she nursed the last bite of her pastry.

"Do you want another croissant?" Colin asked, already eyeing the last one on the counter.

Marina, who had been savoring the last of her coffee, glanced over at the bakery display. "Fine. Get me another."

He stood up, his mind distracted as he walked toward the counter. As his eyes scanned the tempting array of pastries, they landed on the last croissant, glistening under the warm lights. Without a second thought, he caught the barista's attention.

"Hi, I'll take that last croissant, please," Colin said, his usual charm slipping back.

But just as she moved toward the croissant, a voice from behind him—soft yet assertive—stopped him in his tracks.

"Hello, I'll take that last croissant," the voice said, unmistakably familiar.

Colin froze. His heart skipped a beat. No. It couldn't be. The voice was unmistakable—Penelope.

He turned slowly, not sure if he wanted to face her or run in the other direction. But there she was. Standing behind him, looking just as striking, her bright eyes meeting his with a blend of surprise and something he couldn’t quite place. It was like the entire world stopped in that moment. The hum of the café, the background chatter—all of it disappeared. In its place, only the two of them remained, suspended in time. Penelope, for her part, looked just as shocked. Her gaze flickered between Colin and the croissant, as if the world had suddenly shifted, and she wasn’t quite sure how to handle it. The years melted away, and for a brief moment, it felt as though no time had passed at all.

The barista, sensing the growing tension, cleared her throat and stepped aside. "I’m sorry, ma'am. The gentleman here ordered it first. Would you like to try something else? Perhaps the blueberry swirls?"

"It’s yours if you want it," Colin said before he could stop himself, his voice sounding more strained than he intended. His eyes never left her, his heart beating loud in his chest. Marina had asked him what Penelope might look like up close, and now here she was, standing mere feet away. She was more beautiful than he remembered, if that was even possible.

"No," Penelope replied quickly, her voice almost too quiet. “I, I couldn’t possibly take it."

Colin stood there, unsure of what to say, his words trapped in his throat. "I—I didn’t expect to see you here," he managed to say, his tone softer than usual.

Penelope nodded, biting her lip. "Neither did I."

The barista, uncomfortable with the silence, cleared her throat again. "Ma’am? The blueberry swirl?" she asked, trying to redirect the conversation.

"Uh, yeah, sure. I'll try that," Penelope replied, still seeming distant. She watched as the barista prepared a plate with the pastry, the small distraction giving her a moment to breathe.

The soft sound of Philippa's voice calling out to Penelope broke the tension, but Penelope didn't move. She stayed rooted to the spot, her gaze still locked on Colin.

"So… you’re here with your sisters?" Colin asked quietly, his voice uncertain.

Penelope blinked, momentarily taken aback. "What?"

"I think I heard Philippa..." Colin trailed off, unsure of what to say.

"Right. Yeah," Penelope said, pulling her attention back to him. "We’re seated over there."

“Are you…are you back from Spain?” Colin asked cautiously. The question felt awkward, as though it shouldn’t even be asked, yet it hung in the air between them.

Penelope nodded slowly, her gaze drifting toward the ground. "Yeah. We got back two weeks ago. We’ve been so busy moving in and settling down…” For a moment, they just stood there, the weight of everything unspoken hovering in the air. She grabbed the tray on the counter and paid for the pastry. "Well," Penelope said after a beat, her voice now steadier, “Um, I should get back to our table. Enjoy your croissant, Colin."

"Pen," Andrew said, glancing at the tray in her hands. "What’s taking so long? I thought you were just grabbing a croissant."

Penelope hesitated, glancing briefly at Colin, who was still standing there, visibly startled by Andrew’s presence. His gaze shifted from Penelope to Andrew, and then back to her, his expression unreadable.

"Preferences change," Penelope said lightly, forcing a smile as she gestured to her tray. "The blueberry swirl looked… yum."

Andrew nodded, though his eyes lingered on her face as if searching for an answer to an unspoken question. The tension in the air was palpable. Colin’s jaw tightened, his fingers gripping the counter beside him as he tried to make sense of the situation. Andrew finally seemed to notice Colin, his posture straightening. "Oh," he said, offering a polite but firm smile. "I don’t think we’ve met. Hi, I’m Andrew." He extended a hand toward Colin.

Colin blinked, momentarily thrown off, but then he shook Andrew’s hand, his grip firm. "Colin," he said simply, his voice steady but edged with something Penelope couldn’t quite place. "Colin Bridgerton."

Andrew nodded, releasing his hand. "Well, Penelope’s sisters are wondering what’s taking her so long," he said with a light chuckle, his tone easy but his presence protective. "So, I didn’t mean to interrupt."

"You weren’t interrupting," Colin said, his gaze flicking to Penelope. "We were just..."

"Leaving.. I was just leaving." Penelope’s cheeks flushed. She adjusted the tray in her hands, her fingers tightening around its edges.

Andrew tilted his head, his expression softening as he looked at her. "Of course." He turned to Colin again. "It was nice to meet you, Colin."

Colin nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Likewise."

Penelope took a deep breath, stepping past Colin. Andrew followed close behind, a reassuring presence at her side. But as she walked away, she could feel Colin’s eyes on her, the weight of his gaze lingering even as the distance between them grew.

The car was filled with the sound of Philippa’s playlist, a mix of upbeat pop songs that only added to the chaotic energy buzzing around Penelope. She was seated next to Prudence in the back, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she stared out the window.

“I still don’t get why you took so long to get a pastry,” Philippa teased from the driver’s seat. “What were you doing? Baking it yourself?”

“Or…” Andrew’s voice cut through, his tone both playful and sharp. “Maybe she was busy having a moment with Colin Bridgerton.”

Penelope turned her head sharply, glaring at him. “I wasn’t. And I didn’t.”

Prudence gasped dramatically. “You were having a moment?”

“It was nothing!” Penelope said quickly, her cheeks flaming. “We were both at the counter at the same time. That’s it.”

“That’s it?” Andrew echoed, raising an eyebrow. “Pen, I was standing a few feet away. I saw the way you two were looking at each other. It was like one of those slow-motion movie scenes. I could practically hear violins playing.”

“Andrew, shut up,” Penelope hissed, shrinking into her seat.

“I felt the sexual tension!” Andrew exclaimed, throwing his hands up for emphasis.

“THERE WAS NONE!” Penelope shot back, her voice rising in defense.

Philippa squealed in excitement. “This is better than the last time Prudence thought she saw someone from Love Island at the market.”

Prudence crossed her arms indignantly. “It was him.”

“Girls, we need to focus!” Andrew interrupted. “Penelope, why are you so quick to deny it? You should talk about it sooner rather than later. It’s not like you can avoid him forever.”

“I’m not avoiding him,” Penelope muttered, staring firmly out the window. "I just saw him half an hour ago."

Andrew turned to her with a mischievous grin on his face. “It kind of seems like you’re avoiding talking about it, which is basically the same thing.”

Penelope clenched her jaw. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Andrew smirked, unbothered. “Fine, keep pretending. But if you’re going to keep running into him, you might want to figure out how to handle all that unresolved—”

“Andrew,” Penelope warned, her tone ice-cold.

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll stop.” But the knowing look in his eyes said otherwise.

Penelope pressed her lips together, determined not to say another word. By the time they pulled into the estate, the tension in the car was quite thick. Philippa and Prudence jumped out immediately, still giggling about the encounter.

Andrew lingered, giving Penelope a pointed look as she stepped out. “You can shut me down all you want, Pen, but eventually, you’ll have to face it. You already saw each other anyway, there’s bound to be more encounters, if you know what I mean.”

Penelope didn’t respond, slamming the car door shut with more force than necessary. She walked toward the house, leaving Andrew behind with a triumphant smirk on his face.

Marina sat cross-legged on the couch, her laptop balanced precariously on her knees. Her fingers flew over the keyboard, a grin spreading across her face as she muttered, “Andrew Davies… let’s see what makes you so fascinating.”

Colin glanced up from his book, already annoyed by her tone. “What are you doing now?”

“Research,” Marina replied, barely glancing at him. “I’m looking up Andrew Davies.”

Colin rolled his eyes, shutting his book. “Why?”

“Because he’s interesting,” Marina said, scrolling through the search results. “Did you know he’s half Spanish, half British? He’s 28, has a degree in Fine Arts, and even got his master’s in Interior Design not too long ago.”

Colin leaned back in his chair, unimpressed. “Great. He’s an artsy overachiever.”

“Oh, listen to this. He’s the only child of two business moguls in Spain. That explains his… aura.”

“Aura?” Colin repeated, his tone dripping with skepticism.

“You know, that ‘I’m rich and charming’ thing,” Marina said, flipping her hand casually. “And apparently, he’s something of a mini-celebrity over there. He’s redecorated houses for famous people. Tons of photos of him at events, too.” She turned the laptop toward Colin, revealing pictures of Andrew looking polished and confident at high-profile gatherings.

“So, he’s good at smiling for cameras. Amazing.”

Marina said, scrolling down. “And guess what? There are rumors about him and the youngest Featherington sister. Something about their ‘close friendship’ crossing boundaries. No confirmation of dating, though.”

Colin stiffened, his chest tightening inexplicably. “Maybe they’re family friends. What’s the big deal?”

“Maybe,” Marina said, grinning. “But he is a known ladies’ man. Can’t blame people for speculating.”

Colin’s mood soured further. “You don’t even know him. You’re basing all this on gossip.”

“Gossip often has a hint of truth.” She scrolled further, pausing when she found another tidbit. “Oh, look at this. He’s working for Featherington Real Estate now. Makes sense, given his design background. Maybe that's why he's in the country.” Marina’s eyes widened as she read further. “Oh, wow. He’s actually living with them right now. Like, in their house...”

“He’s living at the Featherington Estate?”

“That’s what this article says,” Marina said, laughing at the growing tension in Colin’s expression. “What’s the matter? You look like someone just stepped on your foot.”

Colin shook his head, trying to mask his frustration. “It’s none of our business.”

Marina leaned back, smirking. “Right. None of your business.”

Colin opened his book again, though his grip was tight, and his mind raced. Marina, meanwhile, closed her laptop, fully entertained by the storm she had unwittingly unleashed.

Chapter Text

Penelope was pouring herself a cup of tea at the breakfast table when her mother burst into the room, positively beaming. “Good morning, darlings! Isn’t it a beautiful day?” Portia’s voice rang out as she clasped her hands together, looking giddy.

Philippa and Prudence exchanged curious glances as they buttered their toast, while Penelope eyed her mother warily. “What happened?” Penelope asked, her teacup hovering near her lips. “You only get that tone when something's up.”

"Oh, let me see. That's because the Bridgertons are coming for dinner tonight!”

Penelope froze, the tea cup slipping slightly in her hand before she steadied it. “The what?”

“Lady Bridgerton called yesterday, and we arranged everything. Isn’t it marvelous?”

“Marvelous?” Penelope’s voice cracked. “Why?”

“Oh, Penelope, don’t be so silly.” Portia waved a dismissive hand. “Violet mentioned it’s been far too long since we had a proper gathering, which I agree with. And with us back in town, it’s the perfect opportunity to strengthen ties between our families.”

Penelope felt the blood drain from her face. Colin Bridgerton was going to be in her home. Tonight.

“Oh, this is going to be grand!” Philippa clapped her hands. “We haven’t seen them in ages.”

Prudence nodded. “That’s exciting, isn’t it, Pen?”

Penelope managed a tight smile, her mind racing. “Thrilling,” she muttered.

As soon as breakfast was over, Penelope began scheming for she couldn’t endure an entire evening with the Bridgertons, especially him.

First, she cornered Philippa in the sitting room. “Philippa,” she began, her voice casual, “what do you think about a sisters’ night out? Just us three. We could go to that new pub everyone’s raving about.”

Philippa tilted her head. “Tonight? But the Bridgertons are coming.”

“Exactly! That’s why we should go,” Penelope urged. “Let’s give Mama and her Bridgerton obsession some space.”

Philippa hesitated, but before she could agree, Portia swept into the room. “Oh, no, no, no! None of you are going anywhere tonight,” she declared. “This dinner is important to me, and I won’t have my daughters shirking their familial duties.”

Philippa shrugged apologetically as Penelope sighed and moved to Plan B. "I guess we're not going to the pub tonight, Penny."

But she wasn't going to give up that easily. She found Prudence upstairs in her room, humming as she rifled through a jewelry box. “Hello Pru, you know I'd do anything for you, right?"

"What have you done?"

"I haven't done anything!" She smiled. "But, what do you say we skip dinner and go see that play you were talking about?” Penelope suggested.

“Which play?” Prudence asked, confused. "There are a lot on my radar."

“The one with the actor you like…” Penelope improvised.

“Tonight?” Prudence frowned. “But Mother would kill us.”

Before Penelope could press further, Portia’s voice bellowed from downstairs. “Penelope! Prudence! No one is leaving tonight!”

Foiled again, Penelope stormed off to find Andrew.

Her best friend was in the garden, leaning against a tree, busy with another one of his drawings. This time, he was concentrated on a landscape sketch. Penelope marched up to him. “There you are, Andrew! My best friend in the whole wide world..."

"Pen, why do I have the feeling that you're saying that merely because you want a favor from yours truly?"

"What do you say we escape tonight? You and me.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow. “Escape? Why? Are you trying to avoid someone?” His smirk was infuriatingly smug.

“I just thought it’d be fun.” Penelope lied. 

“Hmm,” Andrew drawled, his grin widening. “No can do. Your mum's got me locked in as part of the family. And honestly, I wouldn’t miss this Bridgerton dinner for the world. It’s going to be… entertaining at the very least.”

Penelope groaned, running a hand through her hair. “You’re all useless.” She sat beside him, and leaned her head against his arm.

“And you know what you are?"

She mumbled as she fanned herself. "What?"

"A beautiful lady but a terrible liar.” Andrew replied.

As the sun began to set, Penelope sat on the edge of her bed, dreading the evening ahead. A knock on her door startled her. “Come on in."

Prudence peeked her head in, smiling brightly. “Thought you could use some cheering up.”

Penelope raised an eyebrow. “Cheering up? What gave me away?”

Prudence stepped inside, holding a few dresses over her arm. “Oh, come on, Pen. I know you’re not thrilled about tonight, but you might as well look fabulous while doing it.”

Penelope sighed, but the corner of her mouth twitched. “You got me new dresses?”

“Of course,” Prudence said, holding up a vibrant pinkish gown. “This one screams ‘I’m confident and unbothered.’”

“More like ‘I’m trying too hard...’” 

“Alright, how about this?” Prudence pulled out a softer, pale blue dress. “It’s simple, elegant, and it matches your eyes.”

Penelope hesitated, then nodded. “Fine. Let’s go with that one.”

"Then again, you haven't see the back."

"Why? Is it backless?!"

Prudence grinned and set to work helping Penelope get ready. “Just hold your head high and show them all how amazing you are. Including him.”

Penelope rolled her eyes. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying,” Prudence said with a wink.

As Penelope looked at her reflection in the mirror, she felt a flicker of confidence. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad. Or maybe it would be an utter disaster. Either way, she’d survive.

The Featherington estate loomed ahead, its grandeur more imposing than any of the Bridgertons had anticipated. The vast driveway was lined with perfectly manicured hedges, and the fountain at the center of the circular drive sparkled under the soft glow of lanterns.

Hyacinth stopped mid-step, her jaw dropping. “This is their house? It’s more like a palace!”

Gregory chuckled, tilting his head to examine the sprawling mansion. “And here I thought we were fancy. This is… something else.”

Eloise smirked. “Don’t get too enamored, you two. It’s still just bricks and mortar—and the Featheringtons.”

Hyacinth turned to Colin, her eyes wide. “Why didn’t you tell us it was this big?”

Colin, who had been uncharacteristically quiet during their walk up the driveway, merely shrugged. “What does it matter? It’s a house.”

Eloise narrowed her eyes, nudging him with her elbow. “Alright, what’s with you? You’ve been brooding since we left. And don’t even try to say you’re tired.”

Colin huffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’m fine, Eloise. It’s a simple dinner. Nothing much to get worked up about.”

His tone was steady, but Eloise wasn’t convinced. She leaned in closer. “This isn’t about Marina bailing on you, is it?”

Colin shot her a sharp glance. “She had work. End of story.”

Eloise raised a brow but decided not to press further. She knew that look—tight jaw, furrowed brow, and the way he was tugging at the cuffs of his jacket. Something else was eating at him.

As the group approached the grand entrance, Violet looped her arm through Colin’s, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s going to be a lovely evening,” she said softly. “You might even enjoy yourself.” Colin gave her a faint smile, but his chest felt tight, his breath shallow. “Are you sure you’re alright?” Violet asked, her tone motherly and warm.

“I’m fine, mum.” Colin said quickly, trying to shake off the unease. But as he stared at the ornate brass bell at the front door, something deep inside him twisted. The thought of stepping into that house, seeing her in her own space, surrounded by her family… It wasn’t dread exactly, but it wasn’t excitement either.

“Okay,” Gregory said, clapping his hands together. “Let’s do this. I’m starving.”

Hyacinth grinned. “And I want to meet these Featheringtons! Do you think they’ll be as colorful as everyone says they are?”

“They’re not circus performers, Hyacinth,” Eloise replied dryly.

“I didn’t say that!” Hyacinth protested, her cheeks flushing.

“Let's just enjoy it.” Violet said, her voice light and cheerful. She lifted her hand and pressed the bell.

The chime echoed loudly, signaling their arrival.

As they waited, Colin clenched his fists and exhaled slowly, trying to shake the unease creeping up his spine. Again, it was just dinner. Nothing more. And yet, as the doors creaked open, he couldn’t ignore the flicker of anticipation—and something far more complicated—that stirred in his chest.

The dining room was alive with laughter and conversation, the long table adorned with glittering candles, gleaming silverware, and a feast that looked almost too beautiful to eat. Penelope sat quietly, her seat across from Colin a cruel twist of fate orchestrated by Portia, who was basking in the success of her carefully planned dinner party. To Penelope's relief, the evening’s attention wasn’t on her—or on Colin.

Andrew, as usual, stole the spotlight. With his effortless charm and quick wit, he had everyone enthralled. He regaled the room with tales of his time in Spain, recounting humorous encounters with eccentric clients who had insisted on bizarre design choices. “And then she says, ‘Could you add a fountain in the bedroom? It’ll help me sleep!’” Andrew said, mimicking the woman’s high-pitched voice. The room erupted in laughter.

Portia leaned forward with a gleam in her eye. “Andrew, you simply must tell them about the time you accidentally insulted the Duchess of Segovia!”

“Oooh, I'd rather not!” Andrew groaned, though he was smiling.

“Oh, yes, please do!” Hyacinth chimed in, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

While the lively banter continued, Phillip found himself entertained by Philippa and Prudence, who had taken it upon themselves to quiz him about farming techniques and plant varieties.

“You mean to tell me you actually grow lavender? Like, actual lavender?” Prudence asked, her tone teetering between disbelief and awe.

“Yes,” Phillip replied with a chuckle, “and I must say, it’s quite relaxing.”

“Fascinating,” Philippa said, leaning forward. “Do you think it would grow well here? We could use some in the garden.”

“Possibly,” Phillip said. He turned to Penelope, who had been quietly sipping her wine. “By the way, Penelope, you look particularly radiant under the candlelight this evening.”

The compliment was genuine, but it carried across the table, landing directly in Colin’s ears. Seated beside Phillip, Colin’s grip on his fork tightened ever so slightly. He kept his gaze fixed on his plate, though his mind was a storm of thoughts.

Eloise, ever observant, noticed Colin’s subtle reaction and made a mental note to tease him about it later. For now, she was content to sit back and enjoy the cheerful atmosphere.

As the evening wore on, the topics ranged from Eloise and Phillip’s upcoming wedding to the supposed secret passages in the Featherington estate—a claim Hyacinth was determined to investigate before the night was over. “You’re telling me there’s a door behind one of these walls?” Hyacinth asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“Not just one,” Portia replied, beaming. “This house has its mysteries. Perhaps I’ll give you a tour after dinner.”

“I'm looking forward to it, Lady Featherington.” Hyacinth said, her grin mischievous.

Despite the lively conversation, Penelope found herself increasingly distracted. The warmth of the room, the laughter, and the easy camaraderie should have been comforting, but the weight of her proximity to Colin was impossible to ignore. She avoided meeting his eyes, though she could feel his presence as if the table wasn’t between them. Then her phone buzzed in her pocket. Grateful for the distraction, she excused herself and slipped out of the room to answer it. Penelope paced in the drawing room, her phone pressed to her ear. It was the office, reminding her about the upcoming meeting she was supposed to lead that upcoming week. “Yes, I’m aware,” she said, jotting down a note on the back of her hand. “No, I haven’t forgotten. Yes, I’ll send the agenda tomorrow morning.” What should have been a quick two-minute call stretched into five as she found herself answering questions and clarifying points.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

[Penelope's room]

Colin’s words stared back at her from the screen, bold and heavy, like they were etched directly onto her soul.

“That I don’t like seeing you with him.”

Her chest tightened, her breath uneven as she reread the text over and over, dissecting every word, every nuance. What had he meant? Why now? And why did the words make her stomach flip in a way she wasn’t ready to face? Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t even feel her grip on the phone loosening until gravity took over. It slipped from her hand and landed squarely on her face with a dull thud. “Ouch!” she cried, rubbing her nose as the phone bounced onto her chest.

“Pen?” She jerked up in alarm, clutching the phone as Prudence stirred the same bed, her hair a tangled mess and her face half-buried in a pillow. “What's going on? Did I fall asleep in your room?”

“I dropped my phone, that's all.” Penelope said quickly, her voice too high and too fast. “Go back to sleep.”

"Are you sure?" Prudence sat up a little, squinting at her through the dim light.

“It's fine, Pru.” Penelope insisted, waving a hand in what she hoped was a convincing gesture. 

Prudence yawned, clearly too tired to argue. “Goodnight, Pen,” she muttered, flopping back onto her pillow. 

“Night,” Penelope whispered, relief flooding her as her sister drifted off again.

When the room fell silent, Penelope allowed herself to exhale shakily. Her eyes darted back to the phone, now on her lap. She picked it up again, rereading Colin’s last message like it held some sort of hidden truth she could decode if she just tried hard enough. Her thumb hovered over the keyboard, itching to type something—anything—but no words came. What was there to say? That she was as confused as he probably was? That his message had sent her spiraling in ways she wasn’t prepared for?

Finally, she shook her head and set the phone on the nightstand, plugging it in to charge. “Enough,” she said to herself. “You’re going to drive yourself crazy.”

Reaching for the small lamp beside her bed, she clicked it on, bathing the room in a soft, golden light. Her gaze drifted toward her dresser, and before she could second-guess herself, she slid the top drawer open. From within, she pulled out a small jewelry box, its edges worn with time. She placed it on her lap and opened it carefully. Inside were little treasures—tokens of her childhood: a pressed flower, handmade bookmarks, a tiny music box charm, and, tucked near the bottom, a little red envelope. Her breath caught as she picked it up, turning it over in her hands. Her name was scrawled across the front, but the handwriting wasn’t hers. She slid the envelope open. A red string bracelet spilled into her palm, delicate and simple, with a tiny golden pendant attached. She held it up to the light, and her heart clenched when she saw the engraving: C&P

The initials were intertwined, almost as if they were meant to belong together. She ran her thumb over the engraving, memories flooding back unbidden. How long had it been since she’d looked at this? Since she’d let herself remember? The bracelet still looked as perfect as the day she received it. Slowly, she slipped it onto her wrist. She fastened it with shaking hands, her mind racing with thoughts of the boy who had once given it to her.

A sudden knock at the door nearly startled her, and she almost dropped the jewelry box. Hastily, she removed the bracelet and placed it on the cupboard beside her bed before calling out softly, “Come in.”

The door creaked open, and Andrew appeared, holding a steaming mug of milk. He was in his pajamas, his hair rumpled from getting ready for bed. “Hey,” he said, his voice soft. “I was passing by and thought you might want this.” He held out the mug. "Wait, is that Pru?”

Penelope stepped forward to take the mug, the warmth seeping into her hands. “Yeah, she fell asleep when we were chatting. Apparently, tonight was real tiring for everyone.”

"I had a good time as well. We ought to rest now.” He smiled. “Goodnight, Pen.”

“Goodnight,” she replied, watching as he turned and disappeared down the hall.

She closed the door behind him, her heart feeling oddly heavy. Setting the mug down on the nightstand, her gaze flickered back to the bracelet resting on the cupboard.

For a moment, she just stared at it. Then, with a deep breath, she clicked off the lamp and climbed back into bed, pulling the covers tightly around her. The room was silent, but Penelope’s mind buzzed with questions and feelings she couldn’t begin to untangle. Somewhere in the night, exhaustion finally won, and she drifted off to sleep.

[Colin's Townhouse]

“Colin Bridgerton!” Marina called, cheerful but firm. “If you don’t drag yourself down here in the next five minutes, I’m eating your bagel. And don’t think I won’t!”

There was no response at first, just a groggy groan muffled by the floors above her. Marina smirked to herself as she added a dollop of cream cheese to the bagel halves, shaking her head.

“Five minutes…” Colin’s faint voice carried down the stairs, slurred and scratchy.

Marina rolled her eyes as she grabbed the coffee mug and plate. Balancing them carefully, she headed upstairs. When she reached his bedroom, she nudged the door open with her elbow. The scene before her was all too familiar—Colin sprawled across his unmade bed, face down, sheets tangled around his legs. “Good morning, Mister sunshine!"

Colin let out another groan, pulling the pillow over his head. “Too loud,” he grumbled.

“Loud?” Marina arched a brow. “You’re just painfully hungover. Honestly, how much wine did you drink last night?”

Colin cracked one eye open. “Why are you here so early?”

Marina laughed. “It’s ten thirty.”

He muttered something incoherent and reached for her coffee, taking a tentative sip. As he set the mug down, his phone buzzed faintly beside him. Colin instinctively snatched it up, but Marina’s sharp eyes had already caught the movement. “What’s that?” she asked, her tone far too curious.

“Nothing,” Colin said quickly, swiping at the screen.

Marina tilted her head, suspicious. “Let me see.”

Colin froze, the previous night’s messages with Penelope flashing in his mind. “No.”

“Hand it over.” Before he could react, she plucked the phone from his hand and scanned the screen. Her expression shifted from surprise to intrigue, her lips curling into a grin. “Oh my god.”

Colin groaned, rubbing his temples. “Can we not?”

“Oh, we definitely can,” Marina retorted. “You don’t like seeing Penelope with another guy? Care to elaborate?”

“It was a stupid text,” Colin muttered. “I was drunk.”

“Drunk or not, that’s not exactly something you say to a casual friend.” She opened her mouth to press further but seemed to change her mind. Instead, she set the phone down and clapped her hands. “Well, whatever’s going on, we’re putting it aside for today. I already booked a spa session for us this afternoon.”

Colin blinked. “What?”

“A spa session,” Marina repeated, her tone bright. “You know—massages, facials, relaxation? It’s exactly what you need after last night.”

“I don’t know. I have a lot to—”

“Nope!” She cut him off, grabbing his arm and pulling him up with surprising strength. “You’re not bailing on me. I’ve already booked it, and there are no cancellations. Plus, you owe me after dragging me to that horrid pub last week.”

Colin sighed, defeated. “Fine.”

Marina grinned, triumphant. “Thank me later. Now, shower and get dressed because I’m not showing up with you looking like this.”

As she left the room, Colin stared aimlessly at the ceiling. But, as his thoughts wandered back to Penelope, he realized a few hours of distraction might not be the worst thing in the world.

[Breakfast nook, Featherington Estate]

“Where’s Pen?” Andrew asked, breaking the quiet hum of the morning.

“She’s in her study. Has been since early this morning,” Philippa said without looking up from her magazine.

Andrew raised an eyebrow. “On a Sunday?!”

Prudence rolled her eyes. “You know how Pen gets. If she’s not working, she’s thinking about work.”

“Should we check on her?” Philippa asked, grabbing the freshly toasted bread and buttering it. “She’s been locked in there for hours. Maybe she needs help with whatever she’s doing.”

Andrew looked at Philippa. “You, helping Penelope with work? I’m sure she’ll find that... interesting.”

Philippa sighed and closed her magazine. “Oh it’s the weekend for goodness sake! She ought to relax. Work will always be there.”

Andrew nodded, setting down his mug. “Exactly. And after how much she was dreading last night’s dinner, you’d think she’d take today off to recover.” He paused, an idea forming. “You know what? Let’s surprise her. She deserves a break.”

Philippa perked up. “Ooh, I love surprises! What are we doing?”

[Penelope’s Study]

Papers were scattered around Penelope, some marked with red notes, others highlighted in bright yellow. Her hair was pinned up in a messy bun, and the mug of tea beside her had long gone cold. She was so engrossed in her work that she didn’t notice the knock on the door until it swung open.

“There you are Pen!” Prudence’s cheerful voice rang out, followed by Philippa and Andrew trailing in behind her.

Penelope looked up, startled. “What’s going on?”

Philippa crossed her arms, a playful smile on her face. “What’s going on is that it’s Sunday, and you’re not supposed to be working at all.”

“I just need to iron out a few kinks in my presentation. It won’t take long.”

“Says someone who's been at it all morning.” Andrew teased. 

“I appreciate the concern, Andrew but I’m okay,” she insisted, turning back to her screen.

Philippa pouted. “But we’re worried about you! You’re slaving away on a Sunday.”

Prudence stepped closer, her tone soft but firm. “Pen, work will still be there tomorrow. I know because we're both heading to the office."

Penelope hesitated, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. She looked at their expectant faces, realizing she was outnumbered.

Andrew clapped his hands together. “It’s settled then. We’re taking you out this afternoon. No arguments.”

“Wait—what?” Penelope blinked, flustered. “I can’t just leave yet. I have to send something—”

“Something that obviously can wait!” Philippa cut in, already grabbing her sister’s hand.

Before she could protest further, Prudence appeared at her other side, tugging her out of the chair.

“You know what this is? This is kidnapping,” Penelope muttered as she was ushered out of the study.

Andrew laughed. “Call it what you want. You’re coming with us.”

"Grab her feet, Andrew!" Philippa instructed.

"No! Don't you dare lift me up!" Penelope resisted. "Nooo!"

[Spa Lobby]

Colin stood with Marina by the reception desk, his hands shoved into his pockets as Marina chatted animatedly with the receptionist about their package.

"You're going to love this," Marina said, flashing a grin at Colin. "A detox wrap, a hot stone massage, and a foot soak. It'll be transformative."

"Sure," Colin replied, clearly less enthusiastic. His gaze wandered toward the lobby doors as if considering an escape route.

At that moment, the spa doors swung open, and Penelope walked in with Philippa, Prudence, and Andrew. She glanced around the lobby with curiosity, while Prudence exclaimed, “Isn’t this place just divine? I already feel pampered, and we haven’t even started. Ohhh we're gonna get the best massages!”

Philippa adjusted her wide-brimmed sun hat and muttered, “I hope they don’t ruin my nails.”

Andrew held the door open for the group, his easy smile making Penelope laugh softly. Colin froze, his posture stiffening as his eyes locked on the scene. Marina, oblivious to the shift in his demeanor, thanked the receptionist and turned to guide him toward the lockers.

“What’s wrong?” Marina asked, following his line of sight. She spotted Penelope and the others, and her brows lifted. “Oh my. Well, this afternoon just got more interesting.”

"Let’s just go," Colin said through gritted teeth, steering Marina away before anyone could spot them.

[Women's Lockers]

In the women’s locker room, Marina adjusted her robe, savoring the faint scent of citrus and herbs in the air. She strolled toward the vast plush seating area, where Penelope, Philippa, and Prudence had just settled as well.

From where she sat, she could hear Philippa already gushing about the spa's amenities. “Did you see the relaxation room? They have a fountain! And heated loungers!”

Penelope smiled, though her expression was distracted. “It does sound nice. But really, I don’t need all this.”

“Nonsense!” Prudence cut in, fluffing her robe. “We deserve this. Especially you, Pen. All that work is making your face a bit dull.”

"What?!" Penelope glanced at herself through the mirror. "My cheeks are fine."

Marina raised an eyebrow as she discreetly took a seat closer, pretending to be engrossed in a magazine. She couldn’t resist eavesdropping as the sisters continued.

Philippa leaned closer. “By the way, Andrew’s such a sweetheart for coming with us. Not every man would sit through a spa day.”

Prudence shook her head quickly. “He did say he loves these kinds of things."

“If only my husband would feel the same...” Philippa teased, her voice lilting. "Pen's lucky to have Andrew."

Marina’s lips twitched into a smirk.

[Men's Lockers]

Meanwhile, Colin entered the men’s locker room, his mood growing darker by the second. He hadn’t missed Andrew’s presence in Penelope’s group, and now, seeing the man casually chatting with one of the attendants, his irritation bubbled over. Immediately, Andrew noticed Colin and grinned. “Colin! Well, this is a surprise.”

Colin gave a curt nod. “Andrew.”

"How are you from last night? Did you guys get home safely?" Andrew asked.

"I'm here, right?"

“Right. Well, didn’t take you for a spa guy,” Andrew said, pulling a robe from his locker. “Here to relax or were you dragged along?”

Colin’s jaw tightened. “Dragged.” He paused. "You?"

Andrew laughed. “I suggested it. I suppose it’s worth it if it makes the girls happy.”

"The girls?"

"Pen's here, with Philippa and Pru."

The mention of her name was like a punch to Colin’s gut. “Penelope?”

“Yeah,” Andrew said, oblivious to the tension in Colin’s tone. “She’s been working so hard lately, and we figured she could use a break. So, here we are.”

Colin’s mind whirled. He brought her here? His fists clenched at his sides, though he tried to keep his voice even. “It's quite a thoughtful gesture.” The image of Penelope and Andrew enjoying a couple’s massage flashing unwelcome in his mind. He could barely focus as Andrew excused himself to change into his robe.

[Common Area]

When Colin and Marina emerged from their respective locker rooms, the gentle spa music did nothing to ease Colin’s mounting tension. His gaze immediately locked onto a group by the stone benches. There sat Penelope, her sisters Philippa and Prudence flanking her, their quiet laughter bubbling as they chatted. But it wasn’t their presence that caused the tightness in Colin’s chest. It was Andrew. He sat beside Penelope, his easy smile infuriatingly familiar, his posture too relaxed for Colin’s liking. His hand rested lightly on the small of Penelope’s back, a gesture so casual yet so claiming that it made Colin’s jaw clench. It wasn’t possessive, not outwardly, but to Colin, it felt like a declaration. She’s here with me. 

Marina noticed Colin’s sudden stillness and followed his line of sight. “Stop staring, Col.”

“I'm not,” Colin replied. His eyes remained fixed on Andrew’s hand, his thoughts spiraling.

"I know what staring looks like." Marina said, her tone laced with mischief. She nudged Colin’s arm lightly. “Should we go say hi to them? Or should you introduce me at the very least?"

“I don't feel like saying hello,” Colin hissed, grabbing her arm before she could move. His voice was sharper than intended, but the thought of Marina wading into the situation made his stomach churn.

Marina laughed softly, clearly enjoying his discomfort. “Relax. I’m not here to ruin your day. Just here to observe. Although…” She tilted her head, appraising Andrew. “I have to admit, you’ve got some competition. Andrew's good-looking, confident, and clearly comfortable in her space. That’s not a bad hand to play.”

“Not for long.” His voice more a promise to himself than a reply to Marina.

“Ooh, bold words. What’s the plan, then? Sweep her off her feet right here in the middle of the spa?”

Colin ignored her jab, his attention drawn back to Penelope. Her laughter carried softly across the lobby. But then Andrew leaned in closer, saying something that made Penelope nod in agreement. The movement brought his hand lower, resting on her shoulder. That was the last straw. Colin Bridgerton wasn’t the type to back down, especially not when it came to Penelope. He stepped forward, his posture controlled but deliberate, his mind already racing through what he’d say—or do. For now, there were no grand plans, no carefully crafted strategies. There was just one certainty. He wasn’t going to stand by and watch someone else make Penelope laugh like that. Not when he knew he could do it better.

Seconds later, he approached Penelope with a nervous determination that made his heart pound in his chest. He didn’t have anything prepared, just an overwhelming need to talk to her, to clear the air—or at least try. Soon, Penelope saw Colin walking and her guard immediately went up. Her fingers tightened around the sash of her robe, pulling it more securely around her waist.

“Hello, Penelope,” he said, his voice quieter than usual, but no less firm.

"Colin!"

"Colin Bridgerton?" Philippa and Prudence both looked in awe as they saw him standing there. "Fancy seeing you so soon!" Philippa replied.

He nodded at the two sisters before turning to Penelope. “Can we talk? Privately.”

She blinked at him, visibly taken aback by the request. “Now? Colin, what are you—”

“It won’t take long. I just... I need to get something off my chest.”

Her brows knitted together in suspicion, but his expression—earnest and almost desperate—softened her resistance. With a small sigh, she glanced at her sisters, Andrew, and then back at Colin. “Fine.”

Colin shut the door with a soft click, the quiet sound almost swallowed by the heavy tension in the air. The room was dimly lit, the warm glow of candles reflecting off the polished massage tables that sat neatly side by side. The faint scent of lavender hung in the air, creating a serene atmosphere that stood in stark contrast to the unease in Penelope’s posture.

Penelope folded her arms across her chest. “Alright, Bridgerton. What is this about? And why are you looking at me like that?”

Colin hesitated, his jaw tightening. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his robe as if grounding himself. “I needed to talk to you,” he said finally. “About last night.”

Her eyebrows lifted slightly, her expression unreadable. “What about last night?”

“I owe you an apology,” he admitted, his voice low. “I know I shouldn’t have said the things I did about Andrew. I shouldn’t have assumed things, either. It was... out of line.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her stance softening but only slightly. “You’re right. It was. But you’ve never really been one to filter your thoughts, have you?”

“No, I haven’t,” he admitted with a slight, humorless chuckle. “And it’s gotten me into trouble more times than I can count.”

Her eyes flickered with something—surprise? Frustration?—before she straightened. “You know what, Colin... Andrew and I are merely best mates. I was supposed to reply to you this morning but I got busy and—”

“And you say that but Pen, you and I were best friends once, too. We both know we weren’t just that.”

"Huh?" Her cheeks flushed faintly, her eyes darting away. “Wait, that was, that was different.”

“Was it?” he challenged, his voice quieter now, almost disbelieving. “Because if I remember correctly, we didn’t just confide in each other. We didn’t just laugh or share secrets. We kissed, Penelope.”

Her face turned a deeper shade of pink as the memories came flooding back. She cleared her throat, glancing at the floor. “We were teenagers, Colin. We didn’t know any better.”

“Maybe not,” he agreed, his voice taking on a wistful note. “But we actually made out, many many times! And it wasn’t just for fun. At least, not after the first time.”

Penelope’s gaze shot up to meet his, her eyes wide. “Why are you bringing this up, Colin? That was years ago.” 

“Because I need to know,” he said, his tone growing firmer. “What’s different now? What makes your relationship with Andrew different from us back then? If he’s merely your best friend, then what were we?”

Penelope opened her mouth to respond, but the words didn’t come. She looked at him as if struggling to find the right thing to say. Before either of them could say another word, a knock at the door startled them both. The door opened to reveal two massage therapists, smiling brightly as they stepped inside.

“Hello,” one of them said cheerfully. “Are you ready for your couple’s massage?”

Penelope’s face turned an even deeper shade of red as she turned to the therapists, her words tumbling out in a rush. “Oh, no, no! We’re not here for that. This isn’t—we’re not—”

“We’re not a couple,” Colin cut in, his voice loud and firm, though there was a note of frustration buried in it.

“We’re actually a bit... lost.” She added.

The therapists exchanged amused glances, one of them gesturing toward the door. “If you’re not here for the couple's treatment, perhaps you’d like help finding your room?”

“No, thank you,” Penelope said quickly, already moving toward the door. "I, I have to go." She slipped out into the hallway, leaving Colin standing quite stunned with the therapists.

Chapter Text

[Parking lot]

Philippa climbed into the passenger seat first, already scrolling through her phone. Prudence and Penelope squeezed into the back, Prudence groaning as she adjusted her seatbelt.

“That massage,” Philippa sighed, stretching dramatically. “Worth every penny.”

“Absolutely,” Prudence agreed, popping a piece of gum into her mouth. “I feel like a whole new woman.”

“You might be a new woman, but you still snored,” Andrew teased as he slid into the driver’s seat, adjusting the rearview mirror.

“I did not!”

“You absolutely did,” Philippa chimed in, not even looking up from her phone.

“Unbelievable,” Prudence huffed, crossing her arms.

Penelope chuckled, leaning her head against the cool window. Their playful banter usually lifted her spirits, but today, her mind was elsewhere. She couldn’t shake the spa lobby encounter with Colin. His words—casual yet loaded: What were we? She’d practically bolted before she could say something stupid—or worse, honest.

“Pen? You good?” Andrew’s voice broke through her haze.

“Hmm? Yeah, I’m fine,” she replied quickly, forcing a small smile.

Andrew raised a brow in the mirror but didn’t press, shifting the car into reverse. They had just started backing out when Philippa gasped, clutching her phone like it was on fire.

“Oh my gosh!”

“What now?” Prudence asked, craning her neck.

“No, it’s not bad—it’s this!” Philippa shoved her phone toward Andrew, nearly causing him to swerve. “Colin!”

Penelope’s stomach dropped, but she kept her expression neutral.

Andrew sighed, steering them back on course. “What about him?”

“He just posted a story! And look—he’s here! Like, literally in the same parking lot. And… he’s with some girl!”

“What?” Prudence leaned forward, her seatbelt straining. “Where?”

“Over there,” Philippa pointed.

Sure enough, Colin was on the far side of the lot, casually dressed in jeans and a rolled-up shirt. He was helping a brunette load something into the car. Penelope’s heart thudded as she tore her gaze away.

“Who’s that with him?” Prudence asked, squinting. “Andrew, slow down!”

“Oh, should I circle back and drive closer then?” Andrew asked.

“What? No!” Penelope shot upright, her voice sharp.

Philippa zoomed in on her phone. “Ugh, too blurry. Who is she?”

“Relax, Penny,” Prudence said with a sly grin before turning to Philippa. “What’s his handle again? @CBridgerton?”

Andrew groaned. “Let's leave the guy alone.”

“Not a chance,” Prudence said, tapping furiously on her screen. “Okay, here we go… Colin Bridgerton… Aha! Let’s see who he’s following.”

“Do you seriously have nothing better to do?” Penelope groaned.

“It’s not stalking; it’s research,” Prudence said innocently. “Find anything?”

“Mostly travel influencers and chefs,” Philippa muttered. “Wait—here we go. Oh yeah. Hello, Marina Thompson.” She turned the phone, her brows lifting dramatically. “Ha! Found her.”

Penelope stiffened, her pulse racing.

“You'll be happy to know that her account’s public,” Philippa continued, opening Marina’s profile. “Whoa. Lots of travel photos… Wait, is that Colin?”

Prudence’s jaw dropped. “It is! But his hair's a bit longer there. Oh look—she’s got a whole highlight reel called ‘Bestie Life,’ and he’s in, like, half the posts!”

“Adventures are better with your bestie,” Philippa read aloud. “This one: No one makes me laugh like this guy.” She whistled low. “They’re close. Like, really close.”

Prudence nodded thoughtfully. “That’s a lot of content for just a ‘bestie.’”

Penelope’s grip on her bag tightened. “Guys, can we not do this?”

Philippa and Prudence turned to her, eyebrows raised. “What?” Philippa asked.

“You’re reading too much into it,” Penelope said, forcing a laugh. “It’s probably nothing.”

“You sound awfully defensive,” Prudence said, her tone teasing.

“I’m not,” Penelope replied quickly, though her cheeks burned.

Philippa exchanged a knowing look with Prudence. “Wait a minute… Pen, did you know about her?”

“No,” Penelope said, a little too fast. "I wasn't aware he had a girl best friend."

“Hmm,” Philippa hummed, her smile widening. “Interesting.”

Sensing danger, Andrew spoke up. “Alright, I'm heading to some frozen yogurt. My treat. Everyone stop talking about Colin Bridgerton.”

[Froyo place]

Chapter Text

The week flew by in a whirlwind for Penelope. Her long-awaited marketing presentation was a triumph, earning her not just the enthusiastic applause of her team but also glowing praise from the higher-ups—namely, her mum. Such is life in a family business. Riding the wave of her achievement, she then shifted gears to tackle another important task: helping Eloise and Phillip find their dream home. She and Andrew spent several days meticulously arranging property viewings, presenting four carefully selected options that checked every box for the couple. As her mum had pointed out, Penelope’s ability to truly understand her clients’ needs was her greatest asset. Paired with Andrew’s easy charm and knack for pitching ideas about potential renovations and upgrades, the duo proved unstoppable.

“This one’s a gem. I love the natural light coming in.” Eloise said, spinning slowly in the sunlit living room of the third townhouse. “You have such a gift for this. Honestly, Phillip and I couldn’t have asked for better guides than you two!”

Phillip, ever the steady observer, chimed in, “She’s absolutely right. You’ve been brilliant,” He snapped photos of the properties—and occasionally of Penelope and Andrew in animated conversation—planning to share them with Violet.

“Penelope’s so detail-oriented,” Phillip had raved during one dinner. “Andrew, too. They make such a great team, don’t they, El? It’s like they finish each other’s sentences!”

“Oh, absolutely. They’re completely in sync. You should’ve seen them walking us through the options—Andrew pointing out the layout, Penelope explaining the practicality of it all. And those little quips they exchange—honestly, mum, it’s adorable.”

Colin had sat through it all quietly, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his glass. He offered a polite smile when needed, but inside, he was itching for the conversation to end. Every word of praise only added to the growing knot in his stomach. He told himself it was ridiculous, childish even, to let their words affect him. But when those photos from the tours eventually made their way to the family group chat, one, in particular, caught his attention. It was an unassuming shot of Penelope and Andrew seated at a table, their heads bent close together as they examined some documents. Andrew was grinning, his hand casually resting on the back of her chair, while Penelope’s face lit up with one of her rare, genuine smiles. She looked...happy.

Colin stared at the image longer than he intended, his phone growing warm in his grip. He tried to brush off the tightness in his chest, rationalizing that there was nothing in the photo—absolutely nothing—to suggest anything romantic between them. Penelope had assured him that Andrew was just her best mate. But the knowledge that they had once been best friends with certain benefits lingered in the back of his mind, planting a persistent seed of doubt.

[Inside Marina's car]

She could feel the tension radiating from Colin beside her, his restless energy filling as he tapped his fingers on the dashboard. "So, you want to talk to Penelope?" Her voice was casual, but her eyes flicking to Colin for a split second, noticing the way his jaw clenched.

"I hope to," he replied quickly, his gaze fixed straight ahead. 

"But you're afraid the Andrew guy will get in the way?"

"I’m expecting it, yes," he admitted, his voice tight. "It’s like he’s always there, just... lurking in the background. I don’t know what it is with him." He ran a hand through his hair, frustration clear on his face.

Marina smirked, her fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel as she made a turn. "Well, he’s clearly got some kind of claim on her, doesn’t he? But—" She glanced at him quickly before turning her eyes back to the road. "What do you want to get out of this conversation, Colin?"

"I don't know. Things have always been complicated with Penelope. And now with Andrew around... it’s like I will never get a clear shot." Colin’s eyes met hers, determination flashing in them. "I need to talk to her tonight. Just for a few minutes, that's all. But I’m going to need a distraction or a diversion. Something to pull Andrew away."

Marina nodded. "Ah. So, that’s where I come in?"

"If you can," Colin added, his tone almost hopeful despite himself. "I don’t care what you do, keep him occupied long enough for me to have a real conversation with Penelope."

"Fine, fine," she relented, shifting gears as they neared the Featheringtons’ street. "I can distract Andrew. But just know this—once I do, you’ve got to take that moment, Colin. Don’t waste it."

"I won’t," he promised, though a note of nervousness lingered in his voice. 

She parked the car, the house coming into view. Marina turned the engine off, the sudden silence almost deafening after their conversation. "Alright, here we are."

He nodded, but before he opened the door, he hesitated for a moment. "I owe you one."

"Hey, we haven't done anything yet. Thank me when you've successfully talked to her."

[Poolside, Featherington Estate]

As they stepped onto the patio, Colin’s gaze instinctively swept across the gathering. It didn’t take long for his eyes to land on a familiar figure: Andrew, standing by the pool and chatting animatedly with Prudence.

“Colin!” Prudence called out, waving at him enthusiastically. 

“Sorry we’re late,” Colin offered with a polite smile.

“No worries, mate,” Andrew said, grinning as he extended his hand. “Glad you made it! And who is this lovely lady with you?”

“This is—” Colin began, but Marina stepped in smoothly.

“Hi, I’m Marina Thompson. A good friend of the Bridgertons,” she said brightly, shaking Andrew’s hand with enthusiasm.

“And I’m Andrew Davies,” he replied warmly. “A good friend of the Featheringtons.”

“Seems like we have something in common already,” Marina quipped with a smile. "We're good friends."

“I’m Prudence,” The eldest Featherington interjected, flashing a wide grin at Marina. “And might I just say, you look absolutely stunning.”

“Thank you,” Marina replied graciously, clearly pleased with the compliment.

Colin, meanwhile, scanned the pool area. “Where is everyone else? I expected my younger siblings to be splashing around by now. Didn't they request this pool party?”

“They’re somewhere in the pool house,” Prudence explained with a casual wave toward the back of the property. “Penelope’s with them, sorting out the inflatables.”

"And Lady Violet?" Marina inquired.

"Oh, she's with my mum inside the main house."  Prudence replied.

"Eloise and Phil?" She added.

"With my sister Philippa and Albion, somewhere." She smiled. "You know what, lunch will be served soon. You'll see everyone back together."

“Please, make yourselves comfortable,” Andrew said, gesturing toward the seating area. “Uh, I’ll go see what’s taking Pen so long. Prudence, keep our guests entertained, won’t you?”

As Andrew strode off, Marina leaned closer to Colin, her eyes scanning the lively scene. “I see what you're saying about him wanting to be close to her."

“Uh huh..” Colin replied, though his attention was already elsewhere, his thoughts lingering on the mention of Penelope in the pool house. "Now, remember our deal." 

The pool house was in a state of organized chaos. Inflatable toys of every shape and size were strewn across the floor: a flamingo, a unicorn, a massive donut, and even what looked like a slice of pizza. Penelope stood in the middle of it all, hands on her hips, while Gregory sat cross-legged on the floor, studying the electric pump with a furrowed brow. Hyacinth was perched on a nearby bench, sifting through the mountain of colorful inflatables with the enthusiasm of a treasure hunter.

"Alright," Hyacinth sighed, holding up a circular flamingo float. "Let’s start with this one. But does anyone actually know how the pump works?"

Gregory spun the device around in his hands, squinting at the tiny printed instructions on the back. "It’s got to be simple. Plug it in, press a button, and poof—instant floaty."

Hyacinth peered at the pump skeptically. "The instructions are in another language. How are we supposed to figure it out?"

Penelope picked up the box and scanned the back. "Oh, it’s in Spanish. Let me see..." She began reading aloud, her pronunciation fluid and confident.

Gregory looked up in surprise. "You can read Spanish?"

Penelope shrugged modestly, setting the box down. "It’s not a secret."

Gregory said, fiddling with the pump again. “Alright, what does it say about this thing?”

“It says to connect the nozzle here," Penelope pointed to the attachment, "then switch it on using this button. Oh, and apparently, there are three speeds."

"Three speeds for air?" Hyacinth raised an eyebrow. "What are we inflating, a bouncy castle?"

Gregory snorted. "Judging by how many inflatables you brought, sister, we might as well be."

"We can’t just have one or two boring inflatables, Greg. That's not a party."

Penelope glanced at the growing pile and shook her head. "Actually, I'm not even sure all of these will fit in the pool."

"Knock, knock!" Andrew appeared in the doorway, arms crossed and wearing a teasing grin. "What’s going on in here?"

Hyacinth popped up from the bench, clutching a pineapple-shaped float as though it were a prized possession. "We’re almost done figuring out the pump... we… might have overprepared a little," she admitted sheepishly.

Andrew surveyed the inflatables and let out a low whistle. "What are you guys inflating? A parade?"

Gregory turned off the pump, brushing a stray strand of hair from his face. "Maybe we can stick with ten inflatables?"

Andrew laughed, stepping further inside. "Ten? You do realize the pool isn’t the size of a lake, right?"

[Patio]

Lunch was a lively affair, the long table laden with an array of delicious dishes, from roasted chicken to fresh summer salads and an assortment of desserts that Portia proudly declared she had “supervised.” 

Eloise and Phillip were the stars of the conversation, enthusiastically recounting their recent property tours with Penelope and Andrew that past week. “Pen pointed out things we wouldn’t have noticed in a million years. Right, Phil?”

Phillip nodded in agreement. “Absolutely. And Andrew, you were spot-on with that second place. The open space at the back had so much potential for a garden."

Penelope, sitting across Andrew, grinned. “Well, Andrew did most of the heavy lifting.”

“Sounds like a dream team!” Lady Violet chimed in, lifting her glass in a playful toast. “To Penelope and Andrew—making houses into homes!”

As everyone raised their glasses, Colin remained quiet, his gaze flickering between Penelope and Andrew. He forced a smile.

The conversation shifted, but not entirely to Penelope’s relief. Portia, who had been watching Marina with the calculating eye of a businesswoman, suddenly clasped her hands together and leaned forward. “Marina, darling,” Portia began with her signature dramatic flair, “Have you ever considered modeling? You know, we are planning some promotional videos for the company, and we desperately need fresh faces. You’d be perfect!”

Marina flushed slightly, laughing. “Oh, I don’t know about that. I’ve never done anything like modeling before.”

“Nonsense!” Portia insisted, waving a hand. “You’d be a natural. Think about it, my dear. You can be the face of our new campaign.”

Penelope, seated beside Marina, fought the urge to roll her eyes. The last thing she wanted to do was discuss work on a weekend—especially during what was supposed to be a relaxing gathering. And of course, insisting on Marina's participation without consulting her made her look away. Thankfully, Prudence noticed her sister’s discomfort and quickly interjected. “Mother, why don’t we save the business talk for another time? We’re all here to unwind, not start planning campaigns.”

Portia looked momentarily flustered but recovered quickly. “Oh, of course, of course. Yes, another time, then,” she said with a gracious nod. "You must visit the office and we'll chat over there!"

Prudence gave Penelope a subtle wink, and Penelope mouthed a silent "thank you," grateful for the reprieve. 

[Pool]

Chapter Text

“You feeling alright?” Andrew asked, his voice low enough that only Penelope could hear.

“Much better,” she assured him, her tone light.

Colin hovered nearby, his arms crossed, while Andrew crouched beside her, offering her sips of water.

A nurse from the estate's staff arrived promptly, her bag in hand, brisk and efficient. “Alright, let’s see how you’re doing,” she said with a reassuring smile, crouching next to Penelope. “You took quite a hit, didn’t you?”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Penelope said quickly, though her wince as she tilted her head betrayed her. “Just a bit of dizziness, but honestly, I’m fine now.”

The nurse hummed thoughtfully, taking Penelope’s pulse and gently examining her head. “You’ve got a slight bump here, but nothing alarming. Any more nausea or lingering dizziness?”

“Nothing a gelato couldn’t fix.” She gave a small, sheepish smile, holding up the empty gelato cup Gregory had sheepishly delivered earlier.

“At least you're in high spirits,” the nurse said, nodding. “As long as you feel steady now, you’re fine. Just take it easy for the rest of the day. No more pool games for you, young lady.” The nurse had just packed up her bag, assuring everyone that Penelope would be fine with a little rest.

Hyacinth clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Alright, since we’ve all collectively decided that sports are off the table, I propose something infinitely better.”

“Please say it’s food,” Gregory interjected from his slouched position on a lounge chair.

“Even better,” Hyacinth replied, pointing toward the outdoor projector set up near the patio. “I’ve chosen the perfect summer films queued up, complete with snacks ordered and best of all, a zero risk of concussions.”

A few cheers went up, and even Colin seemed to relax.

“I’m in,” Marina said, already grabbing a blanket from a nearby basket. “What’s the movie line-up?”

“Classic summer vibes,” Hyacinth replied cryptically. “You’ll see.”

As the group rearranged themselves for the impromptu movie night, some lounged on the pool chairs, squeezing in together like puzzle pieces, while others claimed spots on inflatables. Hyacinth got on the largest floatie, her flamingo-shaped one, and dragged it to the center of the pool. Gregory reluctantly climbed onto a smaller tube nearby, still looking sheepish from earlier but unable to resist the fun. “I feel ridiculous,” he muttered, leaning back.

“That's because you are ridiculous,” Hyacinth replied, throwing a handful of popcorn in his direction.

Penelope reclined further into her lounge chair on the deck, nestled against Andrew, who had draped a light blanket over her shoulder. She felt more like herself now—her head no longer spinning. Meanwhile, Colin, seated at the edge of the pool, leaned back, fully absorbed in the movie playing, though his gaze occasionally glanced at Penelope and Andrew's heads nearby.

The first film ended with laughter still lingering in the warm evening air. People stretched and shifted around the deck, some heading toward the food spread. Marina’s eyes darted across the group, landing on Andrew, who was deep in conversation with Penelope, her face still illuminated by the glow of her phone. 

Suddenly, Philippa nudged her shoulder, lowering her voice. "Want to come with me to grab the pizza boxes? Hy said the delivery guy's up front and we might need extra hands."

"Sure." Marina shot her a quick glance. “Where’s your husband?”

“Probably already having a drink with Phil and Eloise inside the house,” Philippa replied, rolling her eyes. "Let's ask Andrew."

Marina nodded, her gaze already fixed on Andrew. As she approached, she noticed Penelope still engrossed in her phone. Marina saw an opening. She interrupted their conversation with a friendly yet purposeful smile. “Andrew, could Philippa and I borrow you for a sec?”

Andrew turned toward her, surprised but still grinning. “What’s up?”

“The pizza boxes are here, but they're at the main gate,” Marina explained, her voice warm and inviting. 

"Ok, I'll come with." He gave Penelope a quick wave. “Pen, we’ll be back.”

“Mmmkayy!” she called out without looking up.

As they passed the pool area, Marina caught Colin’s eye. Without breaking stride, she gave him a subtle nod, the signal clear: the space was open, and it was time for him to make his move. Colin, catching the silent message, slowly rose from the pool, water dripping from his arms as he scanned the area. Penelope was alone now, just a short distance away. 

As Colin made his way toward her, he watched her for a moment longer. He felt a surge of urgency, knowing that the window of time was short, but as soon as he reached the edge of the chairs, Penelope glanced up at him. She stood up abruptly, an expression of polite but unmistakable purpose crossing her face. “Uh, I’m going to the pool house. I need to use the bathroom.”

Chapter Text

[Colin's townhouse]

Marina’s phone buzzed on the kitchen counter just as she finished rinsing her coffee mug. She glanced at the screen, surprised to see Portia Featherington flashing across it. She hesitated for only a moment before answering. “Mrs. Featherington?”

“Marina, darling!” Portia’s voice was laced with an unmistakable air of persuasion. “I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time?”

Marina tucked the phone between her shoulder and ear, drying her hands. “Not at all. Is everything alright?”

“Oh, more than alright! I’m calling with the modeling opportunity I mentioned the other day?” Portia declared. "As I mentioned, we’re revamping our company’s branding, and we need fresh faces for our campaign. You’re exactly the look we want—elegant, refined, effortlessly beautiful.”

Marina blinked. “I… you seriously want me to model?”

“Precisely! Nothing too complicated, just a few layouts, a couple of promotional videos. Your face on a few billboards and brochures—simple, really,” Portia said breezily. “Of course, we’d compensate you handsomely. It’s a wonderful chance to step into something new, that is if you're up for it!”

Marina bit her lip, shifting uncomfortably. “I—I don’t know. I have my own work commitments, and I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Nonsense! You wouldn’t need to do a thing—just show up and look stunning, which you already do,” Portia assured her. “Think about it, dear. I’d love to have you on board. Let me know by the end of the day.”

Before Marina could protest further, Portia had hung up. She sighed, placing her phone down just as Colin walked in. “What’s with the face?”

“I just got a call from Portia Featherington.”

"The Lady Featherington?" Colin asked. “Hmmmm, that explains the tension in your shoulders. What does she want?”

“She… wants me to model for their upcoming campaign,” Marina said, watching his reaction carefully.

To her surprise, Colin merely raised a brow. “She's really serious about that, huh? Thought she was just making good conversation.”

“Exactly,” she said, exhaling. “I mean, I’m not a model. I’ve never done anything remotely like that. And with work, I don’t know if I have the time for it.”

Colin leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “Do you want to do it?”

“I don’t know,” Marina admitted. “It feels awkward just jumping into something like this.”

He studied her for a moment before shrugging lightly. “Then don’t do it.”

Marina frowned. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.” He reached for an apple from the fruit bowl, tossing it in the air. “If it doesn’t excite you, if it doesn’t feel right, then why force it? But if you’re even a little bit curious, maybe give it a shot.”

She considered that, chewing on her bottom lip. 

Colin smirked. “Do what makes you happy.” He took a bite of the apple and added with a teasing glint, “Though I would request a signed poster if you do it.”

"What?! There are no posters!" Marina laughed, rolling her eyes.

[Featherington Estate]

Penelope was curled up on the couch, her phone in hand as she scrolled through her messages when Colin's name popped up. She glanced at the screen, her pulse momentarily skipping. It had been a few days since their last interaction. With a quick breath, she answered. "Hey, Colin. What's up?"

"Penelope," Colin's voice came through, warm but laced with something that made her lean in. "I need your advice on something. Um, it's about Marina and your company's campaign."

"Oh, okay. Ask away."

"Do you think it's a good idea for her to be part of it? I thought I'd ask you since you can tell me straight to the point. I know you're not your mum, who can be a bit over the top. I'd appreciate your honest opinion."

Penelope paused, feeling a slight pang at the mention of Marina. She hadn’t expected to be asked about this particular matter. "Well," she began carefully, picking her words, "it's a new and huge campaign, Colin. This could open some doors for her, no doubt." She could almost hear him exhale on the other end. She was being diplomatic, of course. "But... Marina's still new to this world. So, I'll make sure I’m there to back her for the whole thing—the meeting, the photo shoot, the press conference. I'll help oversee things, however I can. So, you don't need to worry that much."

There was a brief silence on the other end before Colin spoke again, softer this time. "Promise me she'll be in good hands, Penelope?"

"I promise," she replied, her voice firm, though the words felt a little too final for her liking. Colin trusted her, sure, but how much of that trust was tied up in Marina now?

"Thanks." he said, the relief evident in his tone.

Penelope could almost picture him smiling, and the image brought a strange flutter to her stomach. She set her phone down gently, feeling her heart beat faster, though she couldn't quite place why. He’s got Marina in his life now. Colin and her are just friends. She had to remind herself of that, again. Maybe she had never heard Colin speak about anyone with such care, such concern. Not that it was any of her business.

[Featherington Estate Studios/Showrooms]

Chapter Text

[At the restaurant]

The empty sake bottles on the table stood as evidence of a night that had quickly spiraled into something far messier than anticipated. Penelope was still laughing over something Andrew had slurred out minutes ago, her cheeks flushed, eyes bright with tipsy amusement. Andrew, on the other hand, was past the point of making sense, now slumped back against the booth with an exaggerated sigh.

“Oh no,” Marina muttered, watching as Andrew barely managed to sit upright. “I think he’s gone.”

Penelope hummed in agreement, but the moment she shifted in her seat, a shiver ran down her spine. She hadn’t realized how much colder it had gotten. "Oohh, didn't they shut the A/C off?!" Colin noticed before she even had the chance to rub warmth back into her arms. Without a word, he shrugged off his bomber jacket and draped it over her shoulders. She blinked up at him. He was so casual about it, like it was second nature.

Marina, however, was not one to let things slide unnoticed. She smirked as Colin sat back down. “Well, isn’t that sweet?”

“What? She said she was cold.”

“Sure,” Marina drawled. “If that’s the only reason.”

Ignoring her, Colin turned to Penelope, who had gone quiet. “I think it's time to bring them home.”

The process of getting Andrew to the car was less than graceful. Marina had to guide him, half-dragging him toward the backseat while he mumbled something about spinning rooms. Colin, meanwhile, had no issue with tipsy person for she moved easily, allowing him to settle her into the front passenger seat.

Marina climbed into the back beside Andrew, who immediately leaned his head on her shoulder with a groan. “These two must’ve had a long week,” she commented as she buckled in. "And I've been one under the spotlight the entire day!"

Colin glanced at Penelope. She had leaned her head against the window, exhaling softly. The streetlights cast a golden glow over her face, her lashes fluttering slightly. She wasn’t as gone as Andrew, but she wasn’t saying much either. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was just exhaustion. Either way, he found himself watching her longer than necessary before finally pulling the car into drive.

[Inside Colin's car]

The quiet hum filled the space as Colin drove them through the dimly lit streets. Every time the traffic light turned red, his gaze instinctively flickered to Penelope. 

In the backseat, Andrew mumbled something incoherent, shifting against Marina’s shoulder. She sighed but let him lean against her, her fingers idly scrolling through her phone. When they finally pulled up to the Featherington estate, Marina was the first to stir Andrew. "Andrew, wake up."

He groaned but woke surprisingly fast, still tipsy but more alert than before. He blinked up at Colin, squinting as if processing where he was. “Hey, thanks for the lift, man. You’re a good—wait, are you the chauffeur or Colin?”

Marina rolled her eyes, shoving the door open. “Out. Before you embarrass yourself more.”

Andrew laughed, unbuckling himself before tapping Penelope’s shoulder. "Penny Pen Pen, we're home sweet home, luv."

Marina took Andrew’s arm, guiding him toward the entrance while Colin's gaze settled back on Penelope, still seemingly lost in the haze of half-sleep. He stepped out of the car and walked to the passenger side. Carefully, he opened the door, crouching slightly to unbuckle her seatbelt. His fingers brushed against her arm as he moved, and she shifted slightly, murmuring under her breath. She was saying something. His breath hitched, but before he could respond, she suddenly spoke. "I'm happy to be home…" Her words were slow, drawn out, like she wasn’t fully aware she was speaking. But then, softer—quieter—she added, “But I don’t think Colin feels the same.”

He hadn’t expected that. He hesitated for a moment before speaking. “What makes you think he isn’t happy you’re back?”

Penelope let out another slow exhale. Her head rested against the seat, eyes still closed, unaware of who was listening. “Because I hurt him when I left…”

For a moment, he just watched her, caught between the past and the present—between everything they never said and everything that still lingered. But she was already slipping further into sleep, unaware of the weight she had just placed in his hands. With a long sigh, Colin adjusted his jacket around her and, ever so gently, lifted her into his arms. "Let's get you inside, Penelope."

[Penelope's bedroom]

“I didn't think sake would be her kryptonite,” Colin muttered under his breath, careful as he carried Penelope across the threshold.

"More than any type of alcohol, really." Prudence huffed, crossing her arms. “But maybe try dragging her to bed after she’s cried herself to sleep. You’ve got it easy.”

Colin didn’t respond to that. He didn’t like the idea of Penelope crying—especially not when he hadn’t been there to know why.

Her bedroom was warm, bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamps. It smelled faintly of lavender and citrus, something distinctly Penelope. Colin lowered her onto the mattress, mindful of her head as he eased her onto the pillows. She let out a small sound, barely conscious, shifting slightly as he tucked the blankets around her. “Wasn’t supposed to be like this…”

Prudence, who had been standing by the doorway, sighed dramatically. “Here we go.”

“Does she always talk in her sleep?”

“Only when she’s really exhausted. Or drunk. Sometimes both.” She gestured lazily. “Go on, see what deep-seated secrets she spills next.”

Colin frowned but turned his attention back to Penelope. She was still caught somewhere between sleep and consciousness, her expression troubled, her fingers gripping the edge of the blanket like an anchor. “Like what, Pen?” he asked softly.

“Leaving… It wasn’t supposed to be forever.”

Prudence, who had started absentmindedly inspecting her nails, suddenly stilled.

Colin sat back on his heels beside the bed, watching Penelope’s face for any sign that she was more awake than she seemed. “You don’t know...what it was like,” her voice was laced with something fragile. “Pouring everything into one letter...never hearing back...” His mind raced, trying to make sense of what she was saying. “I waited,” she admitted. “For years. And then I stopped...”

Prudence, ever the spectator, made a noise of surprise. “Well. I think that’s enough tragic confessions for one night.” She stepped closer, pulling the covers up to Penelope’s chin, then turned back to Colin. “She’s drunk, Colin. Please don’t take it seriously.”

He shook his head slightly, voice quieter this time. “I don’t know, Pru. It sounds seriously about me.”

Prudence blinked at him, her usual sharp wit faltering. For once, she was at a loss for words.

Colin stood outside Penelope’s bedroom door, rooted in place, his mind looping over her words. I waited for years. He exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face. He should leave. He should turn around, walk away, and let it be. Whatever she had said, whatever she had admitted in her half-conscious state, might not even hold weight in the morning but the ache in his chest told him otherwise. Just as he was about to pull himself together, the sound of approaching footsteps broke the stillness.

“There you are, Colin!”

Marina had her arms crossed, wearing that knowing look that made him uneasy, while Philippa smiled. “We just tucked Andrew in,” she said, shaking her head with amusement. “He’s quite a giggly drunk, in case you were wondering. Kept calling us a ‘lifesaver.’”

Philippa’s gaze flickered to the door behind him, curiosity flashing in her eyes. “Penelope’s out, I assume?”

Colin nodded.

“Good,” She said with a satisfied sigh. “They'll both feel awful in the morning, but at least they're home safe.” There was a pause. “Would you like something to drink before heading home? Coffee? Tea? A light mocktail?" She giggled. "Consider it a thank-you for bringing them back in one piece.”

Colin hesitated. A drink wasn’t the worst idea. Maybe it would help clear his head, stop him from obsessing over things he couldn’t change. But before he could answer, his gaze—almost instinctively—drifted back to Penelope’s door.

Marina noticed immediately. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she muttered before grabbing his wrist. “You’re not standing outside her door all night like a tragic hero. Downstairs, Bridgerton.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Yes, you were,” Marina interrupted, her voice exasperated but fond. “And don’t even try denying it.”

Philippa chuckled as she followed them down the stairs. “It’s rather sweet, really.”

“It’s sad,” Marina corrected. “And also a tiny bit pathetic. No offense.”

He couldn’t resist one last glance over his shoulder.

[Drawing room]

Colin sat, a warm cup of coffee cradled between his hands, but he hadn’t taken a sip. Across from him, Philippa gracefully stirred her tea, her expression unreadable yet undeniably observant. Marina, beside her, lounged back in her chair, a glass of something fruit-infused in hand.

“Something warm before bed always helps,” Philippa had said, but Colin suspected she had another motive. “You know, you should have seen my little sister when we left for Spain.” The statement was simple, yet it felt like a pebble thrown into still water—ripples expanding outward, touching things he hadn’t dared to. Philippa wasn’t looking for a reaction, but she was certainly watching for one. Marina, too, had shifted slightly, her usual teasing silence replaced by something more intent, more measured. “She was broken for quite some time,” Philippa continued, her voice quiet but deliberate. “I imagine you must have been too.”

Colin exhaled through his nose, saying nothing.

“Something was already going on between you two, wasn’t it?” She pressed, setting her spoon down. “I mean, you never made it public, but Prudence and I… we knew.”

“It wasn’t—” He hesitated. “I didn’t know what it was. We didn't really get to define it.”

Philippa arched an eyebrow. “That’s not an answer.”

“But it’s the truth.” He explained.

“And because it's the truth, you felt something,” Philippa countered.

Marina, who had been quiet up until now, leaned forward slightly, her expression unreadable. “Col, you never talked about her,” she said, her voice softer than usual but no less pointed. “Not once in all these years. Is this the reason why...”

"I didn't think... I didn't think she would be back. I thought she'd left for good."

"Well, we're here. Back in London." Philippa didn’t let the moment pass. “So, Colin,” she said gently, “what did you feel when we left?”

Colin took a slow sip of his coffee, using the moment to gather his thoughts. He had spent years perfecting the art of avoidance, of sidestepping anything that even hinted at a past he had long tried to forget—or at least convince himself he had. But here, with the weight of Penelope’s words still fresh in his mind, he found himself at a loss. How did he feel? Abandoned? Angry? Relieved? Hurt. And yet, none of those seemed to quite capture it. “I felt a lot of things all at the same time."

Philippa studied him for a moment, then nodded, as if she had gathered all she needed. “Did you know about Pen’s letter?”

Marina straightened at the question, her brows drawing together. “Penelope wrote a letter?”

Philippa ignored Marina’s curiosity, keeping her gaze fixed on Colin. “She did. I knew about it because I was the one who brought the envelope to your house.”

A muscle in Colin’s jaw twitched. Of course, he had. He had found it on the receiving table by the door, with his name scrawled across the envelope in her familiar handwriting. He had turned it over more times than he cared to admit. But he had never read it. He couldn’t. After a long moment, he set his cup down carefully. “Yes,” he said finally. “I received it.”

Philippa’s gaze sharpened. “Did you read it?”

“No.”

Marina let out a breath, shaking her head. “Bridgerton! Of course you didn’t!”

Philippa, however, merely studied him, her expression unreadable. “Why not?”

“Because I, I already knew what it would say.”

"Are you a mind reader, Col?" Marina rolled her eyes.

Philippa’s lips pressed together. “And so, that scared you?” He didn’t answer. “You know, my sister waited for a reply. Well, she hoped for one but didn't get any except silence. She thought maybe you hadn’t received it, or maybe it had gotten lost. But how could it? I saw it being placed on the table that day. When weeks passed, then months… she realized she was wrong and I was telling the truth.” She tilted her head, considering him. “Do you know what it’s like to write something like that and never hear back?”

Colin swallowed, his hands tightening into fists in his lap. All he could think about was the image Philippa had unknowingly painted for him—Penelope, waiting. Checking for a response that never came. And, eventually, understanding that it never would.

“Well,” she said, setting her cup down. “I imagine it’s too late to read it now.” She paused. "Given that you're back to being friends... Wait, you are friends, right?"

Colin felt something in his chest tighten. "Yes, we agreed on it. We shook on it."

"You shook on it?" Philippa's brow arched with intrigue. "How very interesting."

Marina, who had been watching Colin closely, let out a sharp exhale before leaning back in her chair. "Alright, alright. I think that’s enough brooding for one night."

Philippa let out a sudden laugh, examining the tea in her cup. "You know what's funny? I don’t think this is pure chamomile at all! There must be something in here, given the questions I’m tossing at poor Colin!"

Indeed, poor Colin Bridgerton barely had time to formulate a response before Marina steered the conversation in a completely different direction. Just like that, the scrutiny had lifted. But even as the discussion moved on, his thoughts remained anchored to one person.

Penelope.

Sure, they were friends now. But whatever had been left unspoken between them a decade ago refused to stay buried. And for the first time in a long while, Colin wasn’t sure he wanted it to be.

First on his to-do list? Find that letter.

Chapter Text

[Colin's Townhouse]

Colin tore through his place like a man possessed. His desk drawers were emptied, the contents strewn haphazardly across the floor. He rifled through books, flipping their pages with barely a glance before shoving them aside. Old letters, forgotten invitations, and business correspondence piled up around him, none of them containing the one thing he was looking for. He slammed a drawer shut, exhaling sharply through his nose. This was ridiculous. A decade-old letter from a girl—no, from his best friend, shouldn’t have mattered this much.

Marina leaned casually against the doorway, arms crossed, watching him with an amused yet knowing expression. “Making a mess now won’t make it magically appear here, Col...”

Colin shot her a glare before dragging a hand through his hair, making an even bigger mess of it. “It has to be here.”

“And why, exactly, would it be?”

“I don’t know.. maybe I kept it without realizing it. Maybe it’s tucked away somewhere I—”

Marina straightened. “What?” She took a few steps into the room. “Colin, think about it. Would you really have brought something like that here?” She tilted her head, studying him. “It was thirteen years ago. You lived at the Bridgerton estate then. Something that sentimental—something you probably didn’t even want to look at—you wouldn’t have brought it with you when you moved.”

"Then it must still be in my old room.”

A beat of silence passed between them before Marina’s gaze sharpened. “But why now? Why are you suddenly so desperate to find this letter?” she asked, her voice softer but no less insistent. “What’s making you dig up something from over a decade ago?”

For years, he had locked that part of his past away. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice quieter. “There’s just… something in me that’s making me curious.”

Marina hummed, tapping a finger against her arm. “Curious? And nothing else?”

He hesitated.

She saw it. Marina’s expression shifted, her usual teasing replaced by something more serious. 

“I need to know what she had written,” he finally said. “And the only way to do that is to find it first.” His fingers tapped absently against the desk as his thoughts turned inward. Had he kept it? Had his teenage self been so angry enough to toss it away? Or had he been foolish enough—hopeful enough—to tuck it somewhere safe, even when he didn’t want to face what it said? “I was seventeen, Marina. What did you expect me to do? Run after her? Her family left!”

Marina lifted a brow. “You do realize you travel with your older brothers every year?”

“And I recall specifically avoiding Spain every time they suggested visiting. The entirety of it.”

Marina exhaled sharply, giving him a knowing look. “Uh huh. Anyway, my Uber's coming... You should get some sleep, Col. Because this...this is... well, it's almost five in the morning!"

[Breakfast nook, Featherington Estate]

Prudence and Philippa sat at the table, bright-eyed and well-rested. Across from them, however, Penelope and Andrew looked positively miserable—bottle weary, hungover, and barely upright in their seats. Penelope, wrapped in a blanket despite the warm morning, was slouched over her plate, staring blankly at her untouched toast. Andrew, on the other hand, had his forehead pressed to the cool surface of the table.

“I must say,” Prudence began with a smirk, delicately buttering her scone, “I have never seen two people regret their choices more than the two of you at this very moment.”

Philippa giggled. “Quite unfortunate, really. But also quite entertaining.”

“Why are you two so cheerful? And loud?”

“Because,” Philippa said, leaning forward conspiratorially, “we didn’t drink half our body weight in Japanese alcohol last night.”

Andrew groaned again. "Domou arigatou, sake."

Penelope made a vague sound of agreement, though she still hadn’t moved beyond staring blankly at her food. “How… did we even get home?”

Andrew frowned. “I don’t really remember either, but—” He paused. “Before I completely blacked out, I smelled something sweet.”

Philippa beamed. “That was me and Marina dragging your drunk butt to bed.”

Andrew rubbed his face with both hands before muttering, “Hmmm, I should apologize and thank Marina then.”

“Yes, you should,” Philippa agreed cheerfully, reaching for another pastry. “You were quite the deadweight.”

Prudence, meanwhile, had her eyes locked on Penelope, who was still blinking sluggishly, barely processing the conversation. With a smirk, she tilted her head and said, “Speaking of deadweights, you might be interested to know who carried you home, Pen.”

Penelope finally looked up, still groggy. “Carried me? Didn't I walk?”

"You were carried!" Prudence leaned in, enjoying every second of this. “By Colin.”

"While wearing his very own jacket, too!" Philippa added.

Then, all at once, the color drained from Penelope’s face. Her eyes widened, her mouth opened slightly in horror.

Prudence, clearly reveling in this moment, sat back with a satisfied smile. “You know, if you’re not feeling well, I can tell the office you’ll be calling in sick today.”

The words had barely left her mouth before Penelope abruptly shoved back her chair and bolted from the table, making a direct sprint for the bathroom. A second later, the distinct sound of retching echoed from the hallway.

Andrew winced, clutching his head. “Ugh. That bad, huh?”

Prudence sighed dramatically and stood, smoothing down her skirt. “Well, I suppose I should go make sure Penny doesn’t pass out in there.”

“You’re joking about work, right? I have viewings later this afternoon.”

Prudence just grinned. “Not at all. But don’t worry, I’ll send word that you’ll both be ‘calling in sick’ today.” She smiled sweetly. “Very sick, in fact.”

Philippa turned to Andrew. "Do you need something for your migraine?"

"Please." 

[Main Bridgerton Estate]

Colin had barely stepped inside when Violet appeared in the hallway, looking pleasantly surprised. “Colin! What a surprise.” She approached him, a warm smile gracing her face as she kissed his cheek. “I wasn’t expecting you this morning.”

“Yes, well,” Colin cleared his throat, glancing toward the staircase. “I just needed to, ah, have a look in my old bedroom. I'm missing something...”

Violet gave him a curious glance but nodded. “Of course. You know you’re always welcome to rummage through your old things.”

He made it three steps toward the stairs before he was intercepted by Hyacinth and Gregory. “Why hello, brother dearest,” Hyacinth greeted, hands on her hips. “To what do we owe this unexpected honor?”

“Yeah,” Gregory chimed in, arms crossed. “You never come by this early unless Mother summoned you.”

“A pleasant morning to you both. I just need to find something, that’s all.”

Gregory smirked. “And what, pray tell, are you looking for?”

“A very important thing,” Colin said vaguely.

Hyacinth narrowed her eyes. “What kind of thing?”

Colin racked his brain for an excuse and failed spectacularly. “An… old cravat.”

Gregory scoffed. “A cravat? Who uses a--”

“It was a—ah—sentimental gift.” Colin said, trying to sound convincing. 

Hyacinth snorted. “That is the worst excuse I’ve ever heard.”

“Fine! It’s not a cravat. It’s a letter.”

“A letter?” Hyacinth’s curiosity doubled. “From who?”

Colin hesitated. “That is not important.”

“Oh, but it is,” Gregory said, now thoroughly intrigued. “A letter that’s so important you’re willing to dig through years of your old things for it? At this time? It's barely ten o' clock.”

Hyacinth and Gregory exchanged glances, both clearly unwilling to leave him alone. Thinking quickly, Colin let out a long-suffering sigh before making an offer. “Fine. I’ll give a reward to whoever finds it first.”

Hyacinth narrowed her eyes. “How much?”

Colin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Enough that you’ll both actually help instead of interrogating me.”

“How much is the reward? Because I am not looking through your dusty belongings for merely a small amount.”

Gregory grinned. “Hy does have a point.”

Colin muttered something about younger siblings under his breath, already regretting his decision.

[Penelope's bedroom]

Penelope shifted under her covers, her body reluctant to move. It wasn’t the kind of unease that came from a bad dream but rather the nagging suspicion that something had happened, and she wasn’t entirely sure what. She turned her head slightly, eyes narrowing at Prudence, who was lounging on the chaise, flipping lazily through a magazine. “Why are you still here? I thought you'd gone to the office?”

Prudence froze for a fraction of a second before turning a page. “I'm on my way, but I stopped by to check on you...”

"Right." Penelope exhaled, rubbing her face before sitting up properly. “It feels like I did something wrong this morning.” Prudence hummed, still not looking up. Penelope arched a brow. “Pru.”

Her sister sighed dramatically, finally snapping the magazine shut. “Fine,” she muttered. “You spoke in your sleep again.”

“And?”

Prudence winced. “And Colin heard some of it.”

“How much did he hear?” Penelope let out a groan and buried her face in her hands. This was not how she wanted to start her day.

“Look,” Prudence said, attempting something like reassurance. “It’s not like you said anything completely mortifying. I think.”

“That is not helpful,”

“And besides, Colin’s not the type to mock you for it. If anything, he probably found it… I don’t know, endearing.”

“If you’re trying to make me feel better, stop.”

Prudence just grinned.

Penelope sighed, pushing back the covers. “I need a shower.”

“Probably a good idea,” Prudence called after her as she grabbed her towel. “Maybe you can rinse off the embarrassment while you’re at it.”

"See you later, Pru."

"Feel better, Penny."

[Colin's old bedroom]

“It has to be here.” Colin shook his head, his hands pressed to his temples. 

“You’ve said that about four times now,” Hyacinth interjected, sitting on the floor with her legs crossed. “And we've checked every single closet. Every drawer. Even under your old mattress, which you need to throw out by the way. That's disgusting.”

Just as he was about to give up entirely, the door creaked open, and Eloise and Phillip poked their heads inside with a raised eyebrow, looking between the mess in the room and her disheveled brothers. “Um, what’s all this?” Eloise asked.

Gregory sighed. “We’re looking for a letter. Colin remembers where it was, but it’s not here.”

"Uh huh." Eloise’s expression softened with a mix of confusion and realization.

Phillip examined the scene. “Wait… didn’t your mum pack up all of your older things in bigger boxes? I remember seeing some at the attic when we searched for El's older books!”

Hyacinth groaned, her stomach growling audibly. “I don’t know about you two, but I’m too hungry to even think about the attic right now. I'm giving up my rights to the reward that we're clearly not getting, Greg.”

"I agree. I think you're on your own, brother." Gregory nodded.

Colin, too, was ready to call it a morning as he was beginning to feel the exhaustion. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that the letter was closer than he thought. So, he grabbed a scone from the kitchen and sipped on some coffee, trying to shake off the tiredness clouding his mind. “I guess it's going to be a long day for me,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. After finishing his little snack, he trudged up the stairs and into the attic. It was messier than he remembered. Years of forgotten boxes and collected memories piled high. He walked between boxes, stepping over old trunks and piles of old books. Just as he was about to feel completely overwhelmed by the vastness of the space, something caught his eye. In the far corner, tucked underneath a stack of old Christmas decorations, there was a box labeled with his name in bold, black letters. An instinct tugged at him. Without thinking, he approached the box, lifting it carefully and setting it on a dusty table nearby. His heart raced as he opened it, pulling out a few yellowed envelopes and papers. He flicked through them, but then—his fingers froze. The moment his gaze landed on the envelope, he knew.

There it was. His name, written in cursive across the front, unmistakable. Penelope’s handwriting. The off-white envelope was old, a little worn, and there were small stains that had seeped through the years. It was still sealed, and something about it felt sacred, as if it had been waiting for this very moment to be found. Colin smiled to himself, a wave of relief washing over him.

[Penelope's bathroom]

The hot water didn’t help as much as Penelope had hoped. Even as the steam filled the small space, even as she let the warmth soothe her, she couldn’t shake the thought of what she might have said.

Had she mumbled nonsense? 

Had she revealed some deeply buried thoughts she would never have admitted while conscious?

The uncertainty was agonizing. Whatever had been said, it was done. She couldn’t take it back. But she could at least send a message. A simple one—nothing dramatic, nothing too revealing. A thank you, at the very least for bringing her home, and maybe an apology for enduring her drunken slurs.

By the time she stepped out of the shower, she had made up her mind. She grabbed her phone, opening her messages. Her fingers hesitated for only a second before she typed:

Penelope: Thank you for bringing me home.

And I’m sorry for whatever I said or what you've heard. I'm a mess when I'm drunk.

She stared at the words. It felt unfinished, so she added:

Also, you left your jacket here.

She exhaled sharply and hit send.

[Colin's old bedroom]

He sat on the edge of his bed, the attic dust still clinging to his clothes, the envelope clutched tightly in his hand. 

After all these years. This was it.

But just as he was about to tear it open, his phone buzzed in his pocket. The sudden sound made him flinch, yanking him out of whatever haze he had fallen into. He reached for it, thumb swiping across the screen automatically.

Penelope: Thank you for bringing me home.

And I’m sorry for whatever I said or what you've heard. I'm a mess when I'm drunk.

Also, you left your jacket here.

Colin exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face. The irony wasn’t lost on him. Here he was, holding a letter from the past, and now, at this very moment, Penelope was messaging him. Right now. It left him with a question he hadn’t expected. What does he do first? Should he finally read the letter? The one that had been sitting—forgotten, waiting—in the attic for God knows how long? Or should he reply to her text? Address the present, rather than dwell on the past? His fingers hovered over his phone screen. He could type something simple, something easy. No worries, I’ll pick it up later. Or maybe, You don’t have to apologize for anything. But another part of him—one that was still wound up from digging through boxes—knew that the letter deserved his attention first. It had waited long enough. So he set his phone aside, took a steadying breath, and slid his finger under the flap of the envelope.

~*~

Dearest Colin,

I don’t know how to start this. But if you’re reading this, it means I found a way to say goodbye, no matter how cowardly this may seem. By the time you read this, I will already be gone. Spain isn’t just a family trip like my mum promised—it’s a new home, a fresh start, a place where I’m expected to leave everything behind. But how do I leave you? You are the hardest person to forget.

You have been my best friend for as long as I can remember. And I thought that’s all we would ever be—just two people who knew each other better than anyone else, who could talk for hours about everything and nothing. For the longest time, that was enough. Until it wasn’t. Somewhere along the way, I started feeling something I never expected to feel for you. But I kept it locked away, hidden even from myself. I wish I could tell you when it changed, the exact moment you became something more. But I can’t—because I think you always were someone special. I just didn’t want to see it. And now, when I finally do, when there's clarity, I have to leave. I need to let go—of you, of these feelings. And I know that’s unfair.

But you were unfair too, weren’t you? Do you remember the night you asked if you could kiss me? I do. I remember laughing, calling the situation crazy but you didn’t let it go, and neither did I. I remember every second of it—the way my heart nearly stopped, how I told myself it was just a moment, one mistake. But it wasn’t, was it? It was the start of something neither of us named, something we never defined. Maybe that is my biggest regret—that we never said out loud what was happening between us. That I let myself believe it could stay undefined and that I could survive that. I was wrong.

Because how do I walk away from something I never fully had, yet still meant everything?

If forgetting is what it takes to keep you in my life, I will. I will pretend none of it happened—the way you look at me, the way your hands feel when you pull me close, the way you make me feel safe. I will erase all of it, if it means we can go back to how things were. Can we? Friendship across miles and miles is difficult, and I am terrified that distance will turn us into nothing but a memory. And I don’t want to be just a memory to you, Colin.

I’m terribly sorry for leaving like this. I’m sorry for disappearing without telling you everything when I had the chance. Maybe you won’t believe me, maybe you’ll hate me for it. And maybe you should. You deserve more than a letter written by a girl who doesn’t know how to say a proper goodbye.

But if even the smallest part of you understands—if even a fraction of you forgives me—I would like to know.

Please write back. Even just a few words. Even if it’s only to tell me you despise me and what I've done. At least then, I’d know that you don’t forget people as easily as we are expected to.

Please, Colin. Tell me this isn’t the end.

Penelope

Chapter Text

Colin sat frozen on the edge of his bed. Thirteen years ago, she hadn’t just left for a trip—she had left for a new life. A life that hadn’t included him. And yet, all this time, he had believed he was the only one who had felt the weight of it, the only one who had suffered. But he had been wrong. So terribly wrong.

Penelope had written it all down—the ache, the hesitation, the piece of her that had struggled just as much as he had. And now, having it in his back pocket, he felt her pain as if it were his own.

A shuddering breath escaped him as memories surged forward, unrelenting and raw, tearing through him. He remembered the first time he had kissed her. He had always wanted to, always thought about it, but he hadn’t been brave enough. Not until that night, when they were alone, and she was looking at him with her knowing, steady gaze that made him feel seen in a way no one else ever had. He had asked and she had called him crazy for even suggesting it. At first, it had been a test—something selfish. He had wanted to prove to himself that what he felt for her was fleeting, something that would melt away the moment their lips touched. After their first kiss, he had felt free. Free to touch her more, to show her in ways he couldn’t say out loud just how special she was to him. And she had let him. They had never defined it, never put words to whatever they were but he could recall, with aching clarity, the countless times they had stolen moments together—sneaking off in family events, kissing until they were breathless, and simply existing in each other’s space as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

And then, just like that she was gone.

[Featherington Estate]

Penelope had just finished getting ready when her phone buzzed on the nightstand. She picked it up, glancing at the screen.

Colin: I’m at the Mayfair house. Did you just wake up?

Her heart jumped to her throat, but she quickly shook off the feeling. It wasn’t anything to overthink—he was just asking a simple question. One that she could easily answer.

Penelope: Yes. Also, why is your jacket with me?

She turned to the neatly folded bomber jacket on her chair. Colin’s jacket.

Colin: You were cold last night so I lent it to you.

Had she really worn it? Either way, she needed to return it. The last thing she wanted was to give Prudence or Philippa another reason to tease her.

Penelope: Oh, okay. Anyway, I can bring it to you today.

Minutes later, just as she grabbed the jacket and her car keys, Philippa appeared in the doorway, balancing a tray of food and medicine.

"Penny, where are you off to?" Philippa asked, eyeing her sister’s urgency.

"Colin’s jacket," Penelope replied, slipping her shoes on. "I’m just going to return it. I won’t be long."

"Now? But you're hardly your best!"

"I can drive, Pip. Also, the Bridgerton house ain't far from here." Penelope huffed, refusing to give Philippa the satisfaction of a reaction. Instead, she slung the jacket over her arm and made her way toward the door.

Philippa shifted the tray in her hands, nodding toward Andrew’s room. "Drive safely, will you? I already have one man down with a headache."

"Andrew's still knocked cold?"

Behind her, her husband, Albion, followed with a cup of tea in his hand, shaking his head at the state of the household. "Just how much sake did he drink?"

"Clearly, bottles more than I did." Penelope muttered before stepping out the door, pressing her car keys to unlock her vehicle. "See you later."

Colin exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. Back then, he had been furious—though he had never admitted it to anyone. He had told himself he would get over it, that he would move on. And yet, Spain—that single word—had become forbidden, a place he had never dared to step foot in despite all his travels. Because if there was one thing he excelled at, it was avoidance. That had been his coping mechanism, his legacy—the lie he told himself over and over. As long as he didn’t hear the word, he would be fine. But deep down, Colin Bridgerton had always known the truth. He had feelings for her. Had—has—it didn’t matter. 

And now, thirteen years later, he had finally read her letter. As if fate had a sense of irony, Penelope Featherington was on her way to him. The Featherington estate was only a twenty-minute drive—meaning he would be seeing her soon. Very soon.

Colin's heart pounded as he bolted down the stairs, nearly knocking into Gregory on his way to the door. "Where’s the fire, brother?" Gregory quipped.

He didn’t answer. His mind was too tangled, his body too restless. He reached the front door and stopped, breathing hard.

Why had he sprinted? Why did it feel like he needed to be there, standing at the threshold, waiting?

All he knew was that she was coming but he had no idea what he was supposed to do when she arrived.

[Bridgerton driveway]

Her car pulled into a full stop, her hands still gripping the steering wheel as she exhaled slowly. It felt strange being here again after so long. Penelope reached for Colin’s jacket on the passenger seat, her fingers brushing against the fabric. This is just a simple return, she told herself. Nothing more. Just as she was about to step out of the car, her phone buzzed.

Prudence: Where are you? Pip said you left the house? Pen, you could barely get out of bed this morning and now you're up and about??!

Penelope groaned, tilting her head back against the seat. As if the pounding in her skull wasn’t already a reminder of last night’s poor choices, her sister had to add to it. She was typing out a response when another message popped up.

Philippa: Penny! Albion and I need some flour to make dough for pasta tonight. Can you grab some on your way back? Thanks, luv!

Penelope huffed out a small laugh. At least one of them isn’t chastising her. She stared at the screen for a moment, suddenly in no rush to move. Maybe she should pass by the store first, take her time, let the headache ease before facing Colin. Then again, before she could make a decision, there was already a firm knock on her window. Her phone slipped from her grasp onto her lap. She turned only to find Colin standing right outside her car. He was staring at her with a look she couldn’t quite decipher—something between surprise and intensity, as if he wasn’t entirely sure she was real.

She took a breath and opened the car door, stepping out just as she was about to greet him. She wanted to get a word out but Colin spoke first. "Penelope, are you dating anyone right now?"

She blinked, certain she had misheard. The hangover must have been worse than she thought. "What?" she mumbled, half to herself.

"I mean, are you, are you single?" he rephrased, firmer this time.

Of all the things she had expected him to say, that had not even been on the list. "Why, why are you asking me such things?" she asked.

"Because I need to know," Colin said, his gaze unwavering.

Penelope let out a small, bewildered laugh before shaking her head and reaching for the folded jacket in her passenger seat. She grabbed it, holding it up as if to prove a point. "Look Colin, I came to return your jacket."

"Penelope, just answer the question."

Her grip tightened on the fabric. "So what if I'm single?"

Colin fell silent at that. She could see the way he hesitated, his lips parting slightly before he exhaled and met her eyes again. "Good. Cause I am not dating anyone, too."

"Look, you're not making any sense. I don’t get why—" Before she could finish, he stepped forward, his hands reaching up to cup her face, warm and certain. Then, he kissed her. It wasn't hesitant or unsure. It was Colin, through and through—bold, decisive, as if he had made up his mind the moment he saw her sitting in that car, as if he had been waiting years to do this again.

Penelope barely had time to process it before she melted into his touch, her hands instinctively pressing against his chest, the forgotten jacket slipping from her grasp. If she had thought she was dreaming before, she was certain she was dreaming now because nothing in her dreams had ever felt this real.

Their lips had met for about ten seconds however, something in her rang alarm bells. He was kissing her. She was kissing him back. They had to stop. With more force than she thought she had in her slightly weakened state, she shoved Colin away, stumbling back into the driver’s seat as her breath caught in her throat. Her heart hammered against her ribs, not from excitement but from sheer shock. The lingering warmth of his lips on hers sent her head into a tailspin. Colin took an unsteady step back, the sharp chill replacing the closeness they had just shared. He could still taste her, could still feel the way her breath had hitched in the split second before she had pushed him away.

Her wide, glassy eyes locked onto him, her brows furrowing in pure disbelief. “What the hell was that?” she demanded, voice slightly hoarse.

Colin exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair, his mind scrambling for an answer that wouldn’t sound utterly idiotic. He had read her letter. Her decade-old letter, filled with emotions she had likely long since buried. Maybe it was that. Maybe it was exhaustion—he hadn’t slept properly since looking for the envelope, getting his hands on it, rereading her words over and over until they bled into his thoughts. Until every memory of her, of them, felt as vivid as the day she had walked away. Maybe, just maybe, he had been waiting for an excuse to kiss her again. However, none of that explained why he had done it now, like this. None of that justified the sheer recklessness of it. “I—” He hesitated, frustration flickering across his face. “I’m so sorry, Penelope.”

“You’re sorry?” she repeated, voice laced with disbelief. “Colin, you just—you can't just...” She let out an exasperated sigh, pressing her fingers to her temple. “You know what? No. Never mind. I know I’m not still drunk enough to hallucinate that.”

Her head still buzzed, her emotions still swirled in complete chaos, and worst of all, the way he had kissed her—like he had meant it, like he had needed to—lingered far longer than she wanted it to. She couldn’t think about this. She wouldn’t. Without another word, she looked at his jacket in her hands, and shoved it hard against his chest. "Here's your jacket. Take it."

He barely caught it in time. “Pen—” Her movements were rigid and determined. “Penelope, wait—” She slid into the driver’s seat, slammed the door shut, and before he could get another word out, she started the engine. "Penelope! Stop!" Then she drove away. He remained standing in the driveway, loosely gripping his own bomber like an idiot, staring at the space where her car had been just seconds ago. Colin shook his head, cursing under his breath. Fuck. What the hell had he just done?

Chapter Text

[Main Bridgerton House]

From their vantage point on the upstairs balcony, Eloise, Phillip, Hyacinth, and Gregory had the perfect view of the disaster unfolding below. None of them had meant to witness Colin's implosion in real time, but when they saw him storm outside to meet Penelope, curiosity got the better of them. Now, they stood in stunned silence as the girl in question shoved their brother's jacket into his chest, slammed her car door shut, and sped off down the driveway, leaving Colin standing there, looking like he’d just been hit over the head with a book.

Gregory was the first to recover, his hands thrown up in utter disbelief. "Wait, wait, aren't they supposed to be friends?"

Phillip sighed. "Since when do friends kiss each other in the driveway and then get angrily shoved away?"

Hyacinth, practically vibrating with excitement, turned to Eloise. "Did you know about this? How come we didn’t know? You’re supposed to have all the inside information!"

Eloise, arms crossed, let out a long, suffering sigh. "Because our brother is a complete idiot who clearly doesn’t know what he’s doing."

Phillip, standing calmly beside them, arched a brow as he watched Colin exhale sharply and rub his hands over his face like he could physically erase what had just happened. "Well, I think he knows now."

Down below, Colin muttered something to himself before stomping back toward the house, still gripping his jacket like it held the answers to his misery.

Everyone scrambled to go down to meet him, suddenly very invested in pretending they had been absolutely nowhere near the balcony. Hyacinth and Eloise perched on the bench in the hallway with a book they had no intention of reading. Gregory leaned against the wall, arms crossed in an attempt to look casual, while Phillip simply looked like he had been waiting there all along. When Colin finally walked in, looking equal parts spooked and exhausted, no one said a word. For about ten seconds.

Then Hyacinth, because she was Hyacinth, blurted out, "Colin! How’s your morning going?"

Colin narrowed his eyes at her, suspicious. "Fine."

Gregory snorted. "You sure about that?"

Eloise cut in before Colin could fire back. "Mr. Bridgerton, you look like you’ve seen a ghost outside."

Colin huffed, shaking his head as he tossed his bomber jacket over an empty chair. "I don’t really want to talk about it."

Phillip, ever the voice of reason, patted Colin’s shoulder in mock sympathy. "Why don’t you sit down in the drawing room? You look like you need a drink. Or a moment to process… life."

Colin groaned and ran a hand down his face. "You lot are insufferable."

"Yes," Gregory agreed cheerfully. "But loving. And deeply concerned."

"And nosy," Colin muttered.

Hyacinth beamed. "Painfully so."

Eloise, watching her brother carefully, nudged his arm. "Col, we are here for you, you know. In case you decide you do want to talk about what happened."

Colin exhaled slowly, rubbing at his temples. "Yeah? But that ain't happening today."

"Alright. But when you do, just know—"

Gregory grinned. "We saw everything."

Colin groaned. "I hate you all."

Penelope Featherington had been through a lot in her life. But nothing—absolutely nothing—had prepared her for Colin Bridgerton kissing her in the middle of his driveway. She had pushed him away. Slammed her car door. Driven off like she was being chased. And now? Now she was standing in the middle of a grocery store, barely functioning, looking for a single bag of flour.

Philippa had been on the phone with her the entire time, blissfully unaware of the crisis she was trying to shove to the back of her mind. "You need to get the good kind! The last time I made pasta, Pru said it tasted like sadness, and we both know she wasn’t wrong."

"Mhmm," Penelope hummed, only half-listening. Because she was still feeling the ghost of his lips on hers. The way he had cupped her face. The sheer certainty in his voice when he had asked her— Are you single?

"Pen? Hello? Are you even listening?"

"Huh? Yes. Flour. I'm getting it," she said quickly, blinking rapidly to shake herself out of it.

First store: sold out. Second store: absolutely sold out. Third store: a tragic no. Penelope gritted her teeth, gripping the steering wheel as she moved onto the fourth one.

It was just a kiss. She had to tell herself that. Except it wasn't just a kiss. It was Colin Bridgerton, kissing her, after a decade of shared history that was far too complicated to untangle right now.

"Okay, so you’re being weird," Philippa mused through the phone. "Do I want to know what happened, or should I just wait until you tell me anyway?"

"I'm not being weird, Pip..."

"You're definitely being weird."

"I'm tired. Really tired." Penelope's voice broke. "My head's throbbing."

"And yet, you still haven't found my flour," Philippa teased.

Penelope made a beeline for the baking aisle, eyes scanning frantically. Her heart was racing, but she blamed that on sheer frustration and not on how Colin had looked at her before—Oh, thank God. There it was. The very last bag of flour. She lunged for it, snatching it up as though it might disappear. And then—just as she clutched it to her chest—her breath hitched. Her eyes burned. And before she could stop herself, she was crying. Right there. In the middle of the aisle.

"Penelope?" Philippa’s voice was alarmed now. "Why do I hear sniffing? Are you crying?"

Soon, she was queued up at the cashier and the lanky teenage boy blinked. "Uh... do you, like... really love baking, Miss?"

Philippa howled in laughter. Penelope could only wipe at her tears with one hand and swipe her card with the other. "Yes," she lied, voice cracking. "This is the fourth store I had to visit to get flour." She grabbed the bag and walked toward the exit, phone still in hand.

"Okay, sister...what's up?!" Philippa asked now deeply intrigued. "Penny, this is a level of emotional breakdown I haven’t seen from you since that time Mama made you burn all your journals from London—"

"I, I kissed him. I kissed Colin." Penelope froze on the sidewalk, eyes wide. She had not meant to say that.

"You what?!!?"

Penelope exhaled sharply, clutching the bag of flour like it was the only thing tethering her to reality. "No. No. He kissed me. And then I left him in the driveway."

Silence. A long, gaping silence.

Then, her legs gave out. She sank onto the sidewalk, feeling utterly drained. "Please come get me," she mumbled, pressing a hand to her forehead. "I don’t think I can drive in this state."

[Bridgerton Sitting room]

Colin lay sprawled on the lounger, his forearm draped over his eyes, wishing—praying—that he could disappear into the upholstery. Unfortunately for him, his siblings were relentless, and their makeshift interrogation was only gaining momentum.

Eloise, her arms crossed and one eyebrow arched, was the first to speak. “So. When exactly did you decide kissing Penelope was a good idea?”

"That's the problem, I didn't think... it just happened."

Phillip adjusted his position beside his fiancée. “Let’s not forget the part where she shoved you and drove away."

Gregory, slouched on the couch with a smug grin, let out a low whistle. “Oof. She really didn’t want that kiss, did she?”

Colin dragged a hand down his face. “If you’re all done diagnosing my personal failures—”

“We’re not,” Hyacinth interrupted cheerfully, swinging her legs back and forth. "We're just getting started."

Before Colin could retaliate—or, more accurately, flee—another voice cut through the chaos. “For heaven’s sake, what is going on in here?” The siblings turned in unison. Standing in the doorway, arms crossed and expression unreadable, was their mother, Violet Bridgerton.

Gregory wasted no time. “Penelope broke Col, Mum!”

Violet arched a single, knowing brow. “For the second time?”

A hush fell over the room. Even Hyacinth—who was rarely at a loss for words—snapped her mouth shut.

Colin sat up abruptly, his heart pounding. “Mother, you knew?”

“Of course, I knew,” Lady Violet said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. She walked further into the room, scanning their faces before settling her gaze on her third-born son. “You were insufferable after she left. You sulked. You took up ridiculous hobbies. You couldn’t stay in one place for so long. I assumed you had both fought, but you never spoke of it, and I respected your silence.” Colin swallowed. He had never realized how much his mother had noticed. His mother exhaled softly and took a seat in the nearest chair. “But, judging by what I’m seeing now, something rather dramatic has occurred yet again. Would someone care to enlighten me?”

All eyes turned to Colin, who—still rattled by the kiss, by Penelope’s reaction, by the sheer stupidity of what he had done—rubbed a hand down his face and muttered, “I’m heading home to rest.”

Gregory snorted. “That’s an admission of guilt if I’ve ever heard one.”

Hyacinth smirked. “Do you even know why you kissed her?”

"You kissed Penelope? Oh, Colin!" Lady Violet shook her head.

Phillip, ever the observer, leaned forward. “You found what you were looking for, didn’t you, mate?”

Colin stilled. The room collectively sat up straighter. "Yes, I found Penelope's letter. That's it. That's all I'm going to say." Standing, he grabbed his jacket and started toward the door. “Now if you excuse me, family, I think I’m going home.."

Hyacinth cupped her hands around her mouth. “FINE BUT RUNNING AWAY WON’T SOLVE ANYTHING, COLIN.”

Eloise, who had been uncharacteristically quiet until now, suddenly sat up, her brows furrowed. “Alright, but logistics wise—can we still un-invite Penelope to the wedding?”

Colin’s stomach dropped. He hadn’t even thought about that. He scrubbed a hand down his face, exhausted at the mere idea of what would happen the next time he saw her. Would she ignore him? Would she pretend the kiss never happened? 

Phillip, ever the practical one, tilted his head. “Well dear, that would be rather awkward.”

Lady Violet, who had been observing the exchange with quiet amusement, suddenly held up a hand. “No.”

Everyone turned to her.

Colin straightened, bracing himself. “No... what do you mean, no?”

“No, Eloise, you will not be rescinding Penelope’s invitation for that is considered rude." She exhaled, giving her son the kind of look that made it clear she saw straight through him. "And no, Colin, you will not be given an easy escape because you are a grown man. You are no longer a seventeen year old boy for crying out loud.”

“Mum, I wasn’t—”

“Yes, you were,” Lady Violet interrupted smoothly. “You were going to avoid her again. You were going to pretend this didn’t happen or wait for it to fix itself, because that is what you do when things become complicated.” She leaned forward, her expression gentle but firm. “You cannot keep running away from this. Not from her. Not from your feelings. Not anymore. It has dragged on for more than a decade...”

Colin opened his mouth. Then closed it.

Hyacinth muttered under her breath, “Oh, that was brutal.”

Gregory nodded. “Savage.”

Eloise, ignoring them, turned to their mother. “So, you’re saying he has to fix it as soon as possible?”

“I’m saying he needs to face his truth and be accountable for his decisions head-on.” The Bridgerton matriarch stood, smoothing down the front of her dress. “Now, I think I shall check on our food for lunch. Colin, I suggest you start thinking about what exactly it is you want before it’s too late. People aren't given a second chance like you do so please make use of it wisely.” With that, she left the room, leaving her son to drown in the weight of her words.

[Penelope's car]

Albion kept his hands steady on the wheel, his gaze flickering between the road ahead and the rearview mirror, where Penelope sat in the backseat. The bag of flour she held tightly against her chest seemed almost comically mundane compared to the weight of the emotions swirling within her. Philippa, sitting in the passenger seat, watched her sister out of the corner of her eye. She could feel the rawness of the moment, the way the tension hung thick in the car, and she knew there wasn’t much she could say to fix things. But she had to try. She leaned forward slightly, her voice soft and kind. “Pen… Do you want us to drive back to the Bridgertons? We can go there, if it helps. You can apologize to him if you feel sorry that you left him...”

The suggestion hung in the air, offering a way out, a space to breathe in the familiarity of her family. But the mere mention of it seemed to break something in Penelope. She gasped, her body tensing as if struck by a sudden, overwhelming panic. “No!” Penelope’s voice cracked with desperation, her eyes wide as she shook her head vehemently. “Please don’t… I beg of you. I just want to go home.”

Philippa’s heart ached at the sight. “Alright, we’re not going anywhere you don’t want to be.”

“I just… need to be alone, but not alone.” Her voice faltered, the words barely making sense even to her.

“You don’t have to explain, Pen. Just take a breath.” Philippa glanced over at Albion before turning her attention to Penelope. Her voice was gentle, almost hesitant. “But… about the kiss… how do you feel about it?”

She didn’t answer right away.

“Do you… think it meant something?”

“It’s just… Colin took me by surprise.” She exhaled, a quiet, defeated sound, her gaze unfocused. "Look, can we not talk about it anymore?"

"Sure, love."

They drove in silence for a while, the only sound the soft thrum of tires on the road. Soon, Penelope drifted in and out of a light, restless sleep, as she succumbed to exhaustion. When the car finally turned into their driveway, Philippa reached over to gently shake Penelope’s arm, careful not to startle her. “Penny, we’re home.”

She stirred and woke slowly. “Okay... I’ll bring the flour in.”

Albion and Philippa exchanged a glance as they parked the car. The married couple watched, fascinated and slightly amused, as Penelope sluggishly unbuckled her seatbelt, the bag of flour still firmly in her arms. She shuffled out of the car, her steps slow and heavy, the weight of the flour almost symbolic of the weight she was carrying inside. Albion watched his sister-in-law's retreating form with concern. “Pen really needs to rest… like, take a full one.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll slip some melatonin in her later.” Philippa smiled. Her heart was a mix of concern and tenderness for her sister, but there was also a quiet understanding. “She’ll be fine. She’s just… a little lost right now.”

“I wonder how Colin feels,” Albion mused aloud.

“Probably stunned, just like you know who,” Philippa replied, her tone steady but carrying a subtle hint of knowing. She met Albion’s gaze, her smile turning knowing. “Albie, I think you should have it figured it out by now. Whatever happens to Pen, also happens to Colin.”

“That’s… an interesting thought. They’re more connected than I realized.”

Philippa nodded, her smile deepening. “Yeah. And a re-connection—whether they see it or not—could be what they both need to find their way back to each other.”

[Colin's old bedroom]

Chapter Text

Colin had promised himself he would give Penelope space—space until she gave him a sign that she was ready to talk or pick up the conversation again. And, for the most part, he had kept that promise.

For the next few days, despite the slower pace of summer work, he buried himself in researching potential travel destinations, packed his schedule with meetings, and did everything possible to ignore the fact that she still hadn’t answered any of his messages. He had only sent a couple, careful not to overstep, hoping for even the smallest reaction—something to prove he wasn’t thinking about her. Which, of course, was a lie. And perhaps that was why, despite his vow to wait, he had somehow made not one, not two, but three visits to Featherington House in just a few days. Pure coincidence, of course. At least, that’s what he told himself.

It had started with a simple favor. His mother had wanted to send a box of pastries to Portia Featherington as a belated thank-you for something or other. When Violet wondered who might deliver them, Colin—without thinking—volunteered. A small gesture, entirely harmless. He’d drop off the pastries, exchange a few pleasantries, and—if fate was on his side—maybe catch a glimpse of Penelope. No expectations. No pressure.

So there he was, standing on the Featherington doorstep, box in hand, waiting for someone to answer. When the door finally creaked open, it was Varley who greeted him with a polite nod.

“Good evening, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Evening, Varley.” Colin shifted the box in his grip. “My mother sent these for Lady Featherington.” Varley reached for them, but he hesitated, glancing over her shoulder. “Is Penelope home?” he asked, keeping his tone light.

“She’s still at the office. Been leaving early and coming back late these past few days.”

Colin forced an easy smile. “Ah. Well, do send her my regards.”

And that was that. He handed over the box and walked back to his car, telling himself he wasn’t disappointed. Except he was.

The second visit had been even less intentional. Eloise had asked Colin to pick up Andrew since they had another property viewing scheduled, and naturally, Mister Bridgerton obliged—after all, he was tagging along with the couple. Upon arriving, he was shown inside to wait for Andrew, who—according to another maid—was still getting ready. Colin settled into the drawing room, his gaze drifting over the familiar space. A few minutes later, Andrew strolled in, adjusting his cuffs.

“Hey, Colin. Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long. Something’s up with the water pipes this morning, so I had to check.”

Colin stood, brushing off the delay. “Not at all.” As they made their way to the front door, he kept his tone casual. “So, I heard Penelope’s been busy?”

Andrew shot him a knowing look. “Very. It’s proposal season, so she’s drowning in work. I barely see her at home.”

Colin hummed, sliding his hands into his pockets.

Andrew smirked. “We can swing by the office later if you want to see her. I’m sure she can spare a coffee or tea break.”

Colin ignored the remark, stepping outside. “Maybe another day. I wouldn’t want to disrupt her work.”

By the time he found himself contemplating a third visit, Marina had had enough. “Either you stop pacing my flat, or you bring some flowers to her yourself,” she said.

Colin sighed. “You think flowers are going to change anything?”

“No, but it’s a start. If you don’t do something significant soon, you’ll be miserable for weeks. And we can't have that! Your sister's wedding is coming up!”

And so, with a bouquet in hand and very little faith in himself, Colin was standing at the Featherington doorstep once again. The third time that week. When Varley let them in, Colin was almost certain this would end in another unsuccessful visit. But, things started to lighten up when Varley walked with them, passing through the living area, then the terrace. The sound of familiar laughter from outside caught his attention. They walked through the open doors leading to the poolside. And there she was.

Penelope lounged by the pool, legs stretched out in her bathing suit, sunglasses perched atop her nose. A tall glass of something iced sat beside her. Across from her, Andrew leaned back in another chair, looking thoroughly at ease. For a brief moment, Colin just stood there, taking her in. She looked... relaxed. Effortlessly so. As if she hadn’t spent the past few days ignoring his messages. As if she hadn’t been occupying every corner of his mind since that day she sped off.

Andrew was the first to notice them. “Well, look who finally decided to drop by when she’s actually home. Colin! Marina!”

Penelope turned, sliding her sunglasses down slightly to meet Colin’s gaze.

Andrew, ever the opportunist, stretched lazily and stood. “What great timing! I was just going in to get a refill,” he announced. “Marina, you want anything this fine morning? I make a mean piña colada.”

"Starting it early?" Marina smirked. “Yes please!” she said with a wink, disappearing into the house and leaving the two alone.

Clearing his throat, Colin stepped forward, extending the bouquet. "I, I wasn’t sure if you’d be home,” he admitted. “These are for you.”

Penelope's eyes flickered to the flowers before she slowly reached out, her fingers brushing his as she took them. “Thanks.” She studied the bouquet in her hands, her fingers lightly tracing the petals before she lifted her gaze back to him. “But what are these for?”

Chapter Text

Andrew and Marina strolled back to the poolside, the morning sun painting everything in warm hues. The water shimmered, but it was still—too still.

“Okay, where did those two go?”

Marina followed his gaze, expecting to see Colin and Penelope in their usual stubborn standoff, but the poolside was empty. “Maybe they drowned,” she said dryly.

“Drowned in their own feelings!” He ran a hand through his hair before turning to her with a teasing smirk. “Good one!” He glanced toward the house. “They probably snuck off somewhere. We did take our time making drinks.”

Marina hummed in thought, but as she looked around, her gaze landed on something odd. She stepped closer to the pool loungers and frowned. “Andrew.”

He turned at the shift in her tone. “What?”

She pointed at the chairs. “Their phones are here. That’s weird. Colin never leaves his phone behind.”

"Colin? Penelope?" Andrew blinked, then walked over, picking up Penelope's abandoned device. “Huh.” He tapped on her screen, and it lit up with a few missed calls and unread messages. "Neither does she.” He let out a low whistle. “Alright, now I’m intrigued.”

Marina eyed him suspiciously. “Is Lady Portia home?”

“Nope. You’re in luck. She’s out with the girls and Albion for the entire weekend. Some conference out of town.”

She raised an eyebrow. “So it’s just Penelope and you here?”

“Yep.” He gestured to the empty poolside. “Well, if we can actually find her.”

Marina exhaled through her nose. “So, what you’re saying is… no phones, no supervision?”

Andrew grinned, clearly enjoying the revelation. “Exactly.”

“That means there’s a very good chance those two are off somewhere finally talking about their feelings,” Marina said, crossing her arms.

“God, please, let it be true.” He exhaled, nodding toward the house. “Come on, let's just go back in the house.”

Penelope felt his hands tighten around her waist, pulling her against him, her body molding to his like they were meant to fit together. The moment their lips met again, the world outside—the questions, the uncertainties, the years of unspoken longing—disappeared into nothing. Colin kissed her like he was making up for lost time, one hand sliding up her back, fingers tangling in the damp strands of her hair as he deepened the contact. Her hands roamed over his bare shoulders and arms, nails grazing his skin, reveling in the heat radiating off him. His breath hitched against her lips, and he groaned low in his throat, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. His other hand slipped down, tracing the curve of her waist before splaying over her lower back, pressing her even closer. The warmth of his skin, the way his muscles tensed beneath her fingertips—it was intoxicating. She gasped as his lips left hers, trailing a slow, deliberate path along her jaw, down the column of her throat.

"Colin..." Her fingers curled into his damp hair, pulling him back up to her mouth, needing more.

He responded instantly, his hands gripping her hips, fingers kneading as he backed her against the wall of the pool house. The press of his body against hers sent a rush of heat pooling low in her stomach, her swimsuit suddenly feeling entirely too thin, too inadequate against the solid weight of him.

Then, just as he was about to lose himself completely, a voice called from outside.

"Colin? Penelope?"

Colin's head dropped onto her shoulder, his breath ragged. "No," he muttered, voice thick with frustration. "Not now."

She barely had time to collect herself before Colin pulled back, his eyes still dark with need but quickly flickering with mild panic. He glanced at the glass door, then at her, then back at it. “We need them to leave...”

Her lips parted, still slightly swollen from his kisses. "What?"

His hands slid down to her waist again, thumbs stroking the damp fabric of her swimsuit as he leaned in. "I don't want us to stop."

Heat rushed to her cheeks. It might’ve been from the summer air, or the pool water still clinging to their skin—or, more likely, the way Colin was looking at her, as if he wanted to devour her whole. And she wasn’t doing much better. His chest was bare, water droplets sliding down the defined lines of his torso, disappearing beneath the waistband of his swim shorts. And she—she was still in her swimsuit, a fact she was acutely aware of when Colin’s gaze flickered downward before he clenched his jaw and looked away. Penelope swallowed hard, trying very hard not to follow the path trailing from his collarbone, down his chest, to his abs. She really should stop looking. She really should.

Colin grabbed a towel from a nearby chair and draped it over her shoulders. “Here,” he said gruffly, his voice strained. “You’ll catch a chill.”

The gesture was sweet—until his lips twitched in amusement, his eyes flickering with mischief. “Not that I mind the view,” he added.

Her mouth fell open. “You—!” Without hesitation, she yanked the towel off her shoulders and threw it at him. “Cover yourself up!”

Colin caught it easily, laughing as he slung it over his shoulders. “Happy now?”

She crossed her arms, fighting the smile tugging at her lips. “Immensely.”

Outside, Andrew and Marina’s voices carried through the humid air, oblivious to the breathless people inside.

"I agree. Those two are full-grown adults. They can take care of themselves," Marina said teasingly.

"Full-grown adults don’t need babysitting," Andrew added.

Penelope stole a glance at the man beside her, her pulse still racing. Their wet footprints trailed across the deck—a clear path from the pool to the pool house. Yet, somehow, Andrew and Marina hadn’t noticed.

Colin smirked, sliding a hand up her arm, his fingers tracing absent patterns along her skin. “We’re either incredibly stealthy, or they’re incredibly oblivious.”

"Or maybe, we just got lucky."

Colin's gaze dropped to her lips. "Luck has nothing to do with it," he said before capturing her mouth in another slow, lingering kiss.

As soon as their best friends' voices faded into the distance, they exchanged a glance. Without a word, they slipped out of the pool house, stepping cautiously onto the deck. Their clothes and phones lay exactly where they had abandoned them, haphazardly strewn across the deck chairs. The rush of adrenaline was ebbing now, replaced by a different kind—one that had nothing to do with almost being caught and everything to do with how difficult it had been to pull away from each other just minutes ago.

Colin grabbed his shirt and tugged it over his head with more force than necessary, as if fabric alone could put distance between them. But it didn’t. He could still feel the shape of her against him, the warmth of her hands on his skin, and covering up did little to erase the memory. Penelope, equally rattled, yanked on her summer dress. Seeing Colin without a shirt—feeling him without a shirt—had been bad enough. Watching him put one on, hair still damp, jaw tight in concentration, somehow wasn’t any better.

A brief silence settled between them. And then, without looking at him, she let out a sigh.

Colin stiffened slightly, his gaze flicking to her. He waited. “Alright,” he said finally, tilting his head. “Just say it, Pen.”

She looked up at him, her expression unreadable. “Say what?”

“Whatever it is you’re thinking so hard about.”

“We’re terrible at this.”

His brow furrowed. “At what?”

“At pretending this—” she gestured vaguely between them “—isn’t happening.”

Colin stepped closer, watching her carefully. “Pen.” The way he said her name sent a shiver down her spine. She barely had time to react before he reached out, his fingers grazing the bare skin of her arm, trailing up toward her shoulder. Her breath hitched. She should step back. She should say something. But she couldn’t. “I have to ask,” he murmured. “What you wrote in that letter… does it still hold true?” Penelope froze. His eyes searched hers, and when she didn’t immediately respond, he pressed on. “Even after all these years?”

“You still remember?”

Colin let out a quiet laugh. “You really think I could forget?”

“It was a long time ago.”

“I know.” His voice was softer now, and he reached for her again—hesitant but determined. His fingers found hers, intertwining them as his forehead brushed against hers, their breaths mingling in the humid air. His thumb traced slow circles on her skin, like he was memorizing the feel of her. She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. He was everywhere—his warmth, his scent, the way his nose nudged against hers, teasing but not quite closing the distance. The space between them was barely a breath. “Do you still feel the same way?” his lips grazed her temple, the faintest brush of heat against her skin.

She hesitated, her pulse hammering in her throat. Then, with a deep breath, she looked back at him, “Yes, I do.”

Her words barely left her lips before Colin closed the last inch of the distance, capturing her mouth in another kiss that stole what little breath she had left. Clearly, he couldn't get enough kissing her.

Andrew’s eyes suddenly lit up with realization. “Oh my goodness! I got it! The CCTV room.”

“What?”

“We have cameras everywhere in the estate,” Andrew said, already getting to his feet. “Why didn't I think of that? If we want to find them, that’s our best bet.”

“Andrew, we are not stalking them through security footage.”

“But don't you want to make sure they’re still alive?”

Despite her protests, curiosity got the best of her, and she followed him down the hallway. Once inside the CCTV room, the screens flickered with live feeds of the estate—the gardens, the hallways, the pool, and various sitting rooms. Andrew scanned them quickly, his eyes darting from one screen to another.

Marina, still tipsy but focused, tapped his arm and pointed. “There.”

On one of the screens, two heads were visible near the pool deck, standing close.

Andrew squinted. “Damn. They’re just by the pool deck? How did we miss them?”

“You know, we could always rewind the footage—”

“Rewind?” Andrew shot her a sharp look. “Absolutely not.”

She laughed. “Fine. At least we know they’re still alive and breathing.”

“Are you sure? They look a little… out of breath.”

Marina leaned into the screen, eyes narrowing. “Wait a minute, are they…”

Andrew shook his head and scoffed. "Looks like those two got busy, all right."

[Poolside]

"I don’t understand... I know I hurt you. And now you're just..." Penelope shook her head, struggling to process it all. "You're not angry anymore?"

“I was never angry at you,” Colin's voice was low, weighted with emotion. His hand lifted, his knuckles grazing her cheek. “At first, it hurt, the way you left without a word. But I knew you’d explain everything in the letter. Then again, I chose not to read it. I chose to avoid it for years. I spent so much time blind to the truth… to you.”

His thumb brushed along her jaw, and she barely stifled the sigh that bubbled up in response. Then, as if he needed to physically force himself to maintain control, he took a single step back—but his fingers found hers, lacing them together.

“I was hurt, yes,” he admitted, voice quieter now, rougher. “But, Pen, you’ve always been the one I trusted the most. And when I finally saw what was clear all along, I realized I was never mad at you. I couldn't be. Rather, I was disappointed in myself.”

“Colin…”

His eyes softened, but there was still a lingering sadness. “I wasted so much time thinking you’d left me willingly... coldly. I was young then. I didn’t know any better.” He exhaled sharply, as if the weight of those years still sat heavy on his chest. Then, so quietly it was almost a plea, he whispered, “Now, I just need to know… do I still have a chance?”

The question hung between them, thick with unspoken emotion. Penelope’s breath caught, her heart hammering as she looked up at him. There was no distance now, no pretending. Just him. Just her. “You never lost it.”

Colin exhaled, his grip on her hands tightening, and then—slowly, carefully—he lifted them, pressing a lingering kiss to her knuckles, as if the act itself could seal the words between them. “Penelope,” he murmured against her skin, his lips warm and soft, “can I court you?”

She blinked, thrown by the sudden formality, her pulse quickening. “You want to court me?” she echoed, tilting her head, still processing his words. “Isn’t that a bit old-fashioned, Mister Bridgerton?”

A slow, crooked smile tugged at his lips. “It is. But I didn’t do it right the first time…”

Penelope searched his face, finding only sincerity. Her voice held a trace of amusement, even as her fingers instinctively curled into the fabric of his now damp shirt. “But we’ve already kissed… a lot.”

Colin exhaled, his forehead dropping against hers. The touch was so gentle, so intimate, that her heart clenched. “I know,” he murmured, his voice low, raw. “And that’s making me think this is a terrible idea, because I don’t know how I survived a decade without you.” He lifted his head slightly, their noses brushing, lips a breath apart. “Do you have any idea how much I love touching you? Having you near me?” He let out a shaky laugh. “My favorite thing in the world is kissing you, and now I’m supposed to hold back?”

“Then why put yourself through that torture?” she whispered, her fingers tracing lightly over his collarbone, feeling the rapid beat of his pulse.

His hands settled on her waist, fingers tightening like he needed to keep himself from pulling her even closer. “Because I want to do this right."

“This is going to drive you insane."

Colin let out a strained chuckle, but his next words were barely more than a confession. “I’m already insane for you.”

Chapter Text

[Terrace]

Penelope and Colin trudged like a pair of guilty teenagers as Marina and Andrew sat waiting, both looking far too entertained for their liking. A large pitcher of iced tea sat between them, along with a bowl of popcorn—because, of course, they had treated this entire situation like a show. Andrew leaned back, arms crossed. “Ah, here they are."

Marina grinned, tossing a handful of popcorn into her mouth. “Please, have a seat. We just have a few questions.”

Colin sighed and let Penelope sit first. “I feel like I should sue for invasion of privacy.”

Andrew smirked. “Your invasion of each other’s personal space is what landed you here, my friends.” He tapped his phone screen and spun it around. He paused the captured CCTV footage.

Colin leaning close, hand on Penelope’s waist. Their faces mere inches apart.

Penelope winced. “Okay, wow. We got really good cameras.”

Marina nodded approvingly. “Right? I told Andrew I needed to upgrade mine at my flat!”

Colin ran a hand down his face, frustration evident. “We weren’t doing anything!”

Andrew raised an eyebrow. “Weren’t you?”

“We were just talking,” Colin emphasized.

Marina smirked. “Talking, huh? And when exactly were you planning to tell us that your ‘talking’ involves standing on the edge of a kiss? An hour ago, you two could barely breathe without the awkward tension, and now? You’re practically inseparable.” Colin shook his head, but she pressed on. “Wait—so you were going to kiss her? Or have you already done the deed?”

Penelope rolled her eyes. “Okay, seriously, before you two turn this into an interrogation—to answer your question, yes we've kissed but we’re not official yet.”

“Wait. What?”

“You two kissed but aren't official?!”

“You guys shouldn’t have been snooping.” Colin sighed.

“Col!” Penelope lightly smacked his arm.

“Alright, alright." Marina sighed. "Can we please be serious for a second? What’s going on? Colin, please just own up to it.”

Mister Bridgerton cleared his throat. “Well, we were able to clear some things and…”

“And now you’re together but not official? What the heck does that mean?” Andrew prompted, his voice teasing.

“I told Penelope I want to do things properly. So, I might have to ask Lady Featherington for permission to court her.”

The room went quiet for a moment before Andrew let out a low whistle. “Oooh. You sure about that? Cause that might take a while.”

Colin shot him a sharp look. “Excuse me?”

Andrew leaned forward. “Colin, have you met Portia Featherington? She doesn’t make quick decisions when it comes to her daughters’ love lives. You’ll need a whole presentation to convince her. Just ask Albion and Pip.”

“Hmmmm, I was hoping it’d be a simple conversation,” Colin muttered.

Andrew snorted. “Simple? Oh, it’ll take a while, but hey, you are a Bridgerton. Maybe that would give you more points in her book.”

"Plus, Lady Violet can help your case." Marina suggested.

Colin groaned. “So, what you’re saying is… this could take days?”

Marina tapped her chin thoughtfully, then looked at Andrew. “Which actually is perfect, since she ain't coming home until Sunday and we can figure out a plan. Meanwhile you can patiently wait, Andrew--should we really be letting our best friends roam in this massive house unsupervised while they clearly can't stop touching each other?”

“Hmm. That depends,” Andrew said with a mischievous grin.

“On what?” Colin was curious.

“On how much we want to mess with you.” Marina smiled.

Both Colin and Penelope groaned in unison as their besties exchanged high-fives, thoroughly entertained.

Colin had never experienced such an excruciating level of cockblockery in his life. The morning had started out promisingly enough. Just him and Penelope, alone in the pool. Then the pool house. Then the deck. It had been a slow but thrilling shift from careful glances to lingering touches and kisses, a long-overdue unraveling of tension that had simmered for years. For once, there were no prying eyes and no interruptions—until, of course, Marina and Andrew decided that they needed to be policed. And, fine, Colin could admit it was the right thing to do but he also knew himself and when it came to hormones, he wasn’t exactly a saint.

That evening, Andrew made a grand show of throwing an arm around Colin and declaring, “Well, since Colin here is a man of honor and wouldn’t dare test the limits of his self-control, I say he bunks with me tonight. Don’t worry, mate—we’ll be plenty comfortable in my king-sized bed.”

Colin’s protest was immediate. “That’s unnecessary. Marina and I can just go home and come back tomorrow. Problem solved. No need to make this any harder for anyone.”

Andrew smirked. “Harder? Interesting choice of words.”

Colin shot him a glare, but before he could fire back, Marina swooped in. “Is it really necessary to go home, though?” she asked sweetly. “Because Pen and I were just saying how we could use a little girl talk. Now that you two are unofficially dating, I think we need to truly bond.”

Penelope, caught between amusement and mild panic, tried to interject. “Marina, I don’t think this is—”

“Oh, but I insist!” Marina squeezed Penelope’s shoulder. “There’s so much we haven’t talked about yet. Like your life in Madrid, for instance! I have so many questions.”

“Come on, Bridgerton. Why would you want to leave? And what’s your evenings, a few rooms apart? You did say you were going to do things properly.”

Colin narrowed his eyes. “Yes, but what you’re proposing is that I stay in the lion’s den.”

Andrew leaned in, all mock innocence. “And are you enjoying it so far?”

And so, much to his growing frustration, Colin found himself in Andrew’s room, staring up at the ceiling as Penelope's best friend sprawled comfortably on the couch across, looking thoroughly entertained by the situation. “Something on your mind?” Andrew asked, stretching like he hadn’t just played a direct role in ruining Colin’s evening.

“You're a guy, Andrew. I think you know damn well what’s on my mind.”

“Ah, right. That whole thing where you finally get the girl, but now you have to go through the boss-level challenge of winning over her best friend and her family.” Andrew smiled. “Look, you've already won me over. And I have to say, I like our odds of survival better with you here.”

Colin turned his head, glaring. “Odds of survival? Her family's not even around.”

“Well, yes. I mean, if you were alone with Pen this evening, who knows what might’ve happened? You’re trying to be a gentleman, right? How would that look with her mum and her sisters?”

“I hate that you have a point.”

“See? That’s why I’m here. I'm the buffer.” Andrew stretched out with a satisfied sigh. "Plus, I know Lady Featherington like the back of my hand. If you need tips on how to win her over, just ask away."

"Maybe you do have some good valuable inputs." Colin rolled his eyes.

"That I do, my friend. That I do." Andrew stood up and strode toward the door. "Sit tight for a minute. I'm grabbing the spare mattress."

Colin frowned. "Wait—shouldn’t I be the one sleeping on that instead?"

Andrew paused at the doorway, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk. "Please, you’re a guest. And more importantly, I wouldn’t dare let my best friend’s suitor-slash-unofficial boyfriend suffer a night of discomfort in my room. Sheesh, you guys are driving so much confusion in me right now." He winked before yanking the door shut behind him, leaving a stunned—and slightly exasperated—Colin in his wake.

Meanwhile, in Penelope’s room, Marina was making herself quite at home, sprawled across the bed while Penelope stood nearby holding up two sets of pajamas for her guest to wear. "Do you prefer pink or blue jammies?" 

"Hmmm, I'll take the blue one. Pink's really not my colour." Marina sat up and smiled. "You know, it's funny how quickly things change. Yesterday, I was practically prancing around the market for peonies and then the next day, you and Colin are together!" She looked a bit pleased with herself. "I must say, flowers really do make wonders!"

"Was it your idea for him to bring an apology bouquet?"

Marina nodded. "Penelope, I hope you're happy."

"I would have been happier if Andrew and you would tone it down a notch." She replied. "Colin and I are adults. We can control ourselves, you know."

"Didn't look like it on CCTV though." Marina grinned as she stood up. "So, can I use your bathtub tonight?"

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

The weekend had slipped away in a comfortable blur and before they knew it, Colin and Marina had practically stayed longer than they had wanted. With the abundance of extra space in the estate, it had been an easy arrangement. Thankfully, nothing untoward had occurred, well except for the ten minute lapse in judgement Andrew and Marina had thanks to their cant-get-enough-of-each-other besties. As Sunday evening set in, the long-awaited return of the Featherington flock loomed. The moment Lady Portia stepped inside her house, her eyes widened at the sight of her two guests. “Well, well! What a delightful surprise!” she declared, placing her purse on the console table. “I half-expected to find Penelope and Andrew fending for themselves, but instead, I see they’ve had the most excellent company.”

Andrew stood and greeted her. “Good evening, Lady Featherington. I hope your trip with the girls and Albie was a good one?”

"Of course! Come on everyone, let’s sit and chat over dinner. I have some news.”

Prudence, Philippa, and Andrew exchanged knowing glances, as if they had been thoroughly briefed on all the happenings back home.

“You’ve been quite busy, haven’t you, Andrew?” Philippa teased, a smirk tugging at her lips.

“Never leave me to chaperone again, girls! You know I hate being the bad cop!”

[Dining Room]

Dinner began pleasantly enough. Portia was in a splendid mood, chatting animatedly about the success of the conference and how the trip had turned out to be unexpectedly productive. The conversation flowed easily—until the plates were being cleared, and she delivered her much-awaited announcement. "Well, we happened to run into an old friend of yours, dear," Portia said, her gaze settling on Penelope with unmistakable delight. "Do you remember Alfie Debling?"

Andrew raised an eyebrow. "How can we forget Alfred Debling—Penelope's ex-boyfriend?"

Portia nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! Still such a charming young man. And quite the success, too—he’s become a rather well-known entrepreneur over Europe, dealing with woodworks and furniture. Isn't he just lovely, girls?"

Prudence cleared her throat. "I... didn’t really get a chance to speak to him much."

"Mama, you were the one sitting beside him the entire time," Philippa reminded her.

"Well, I was entertaining the poor lad. He was all alone in the conference!" Portia smiled, waving a hand as if that was a given. "And wouldn’t you know, in the middle of our conversation, he mentioned that he’ll be in London for a little while. For business."

Penelope forced a swallow. "Really?" Beside her, Colin had gone very still. His fork hovered just above his plate, and when she risked a glance at him, she saw it—that knowing look in his eyes, the one that told her exactly where this conversation was heading.

"Since he and I still get on so well, I thought—why let such a dear friend of yours stay at some dreary hotel or Airbnb?" Portia beamed.

Andrew let out a barely restrained sigh. "Dear friend?"

"So, I invited him to stay here with us for a few days," Portia announced cheerfully.

"For a few days?" Prudence and Philippa chorused in disbelief.

Andrew wiped his napkin across his lips before speaking. "I know this house is big, but… it may not be spacious enough for two exes."

Penelope's stomach dropped. Colin’s fork hit his plate with a sharp clink. At the same time, beneath the table, Penelope reached for his knee, pressing her fingers against the fabric of his trousers in silent reassurance. He was calm. Collected. Unshaken. Too calm. And that was the part that worried her most.

"Oh, come now, my dear." Portia waved a dismissive hand. "It will be fun. You two were such a lovely couple."

"Mum, I broke up with him years ago."

Her mother let out a light laugh, as if that were the most inconsequential detail in the world. "Yes, but he’s still quite the gentleman, you know. So polite. So well-mannered. Such a prospect."

Prudence, lazily swirling her wine, muttered, "He’s also a known playboy in our circles."

"In ancient times, he'd be called a rake." Andrew added.

Philippa sighed. "Mama, we were there when Penelope ended things. It wasn’t exactly… a good one."

Portia waved this away as if brushing off a speck of dust. "Well, that’s neither here nor there since you said it happened ages ago. What is important is that he’s coming, and I do think, Penelope, that you should consider something else." Her mother smiled, ever the picture of self-satisfaction. "The Bridgerton-Crane wedding is next week, is it not?" At once, Penelope’s stomach twisted because she had a feeling where this would lead to. "I think Alfred would make a wonderful date for you," Her voice light and oblivious. "I know I told Andrew to be your plus one for the time being, but I think he'd understand this switch is merely for business purposes?" Portia, entirely pleased with herself, took a dainty sip of her wine. "I mean, if you’re up for it, darling, of course." Every single pair of eyes at the table slowly turned to Penelope and she sat flushed, frustrated, and utterly baffled. And yet, her mother beamed. "Think about it tonight before you go to bed."

And at that very moment, Colin set his wine glass down a little too firmly. "Lady Featherington," he began smoothly, "I’ve been thinking about your suggestion regarding Penelope and Alfred."

Portia smiled, clearly pleased with herself. "Oh? Well, I daresay it’s a rather brilliant idea, don’t you think, Mister Bridgerton?"

Colin exhaled through his nose, his patience hanging by a thread. "That’s just it. I don’t."

Penelope’s head snapped up. Prudence and Philippa exchanged wide-eyed glances. Andrew—who had been picking at his food with a bemused expression—slowly leaned back in his chair, sensing what was coming. Even Albion, Philippa’s husband, looked up from his plate, brow furrowing in curiosity.

"You don’t?" Portia paused.

"While I understand your enthusiasm, I don’t believe it would be wise for Penelope to entertain Mr. Debling’s company. Not when it was made quite clear that their parting was not… on the best of terms." Colin said, voice firm but polite. 

"Oh, but that was water under the bridge," Portia dismissed with a wave of her hand.

"Perhaps for you. But for Penelope, I imagine it’s a different matter entirely."

Andrew smirked behind his wine glass.

Portia’s expression flickered just slightly before she recovered. "Regardless, Mr. Bridgerton, I do think it’s rather wonderful that Alfie is paying us a visit. You can’t possibly begrudge Penelope the chance to reacquaint herself with an old friend."

Colin let out a slow, measured breath. He had tried to be tactful. He had tried to be respectful. But there was only so much he could tolerate before he had to make himself clear. "Lady Featherington, I don’t believe Penelope is in need of any old acquaintances. Because I think I am enough for her."

“What did you just say?”

“You must know that your daughter and I have strong feelings for each other. To prove my sincerity, I fully intend to court her,” Colin stated firmly.

Lady Portia’s eyes narrowed. “You both have strong feelings?”

“Yes, mother.” Penelope confirmed.

Portia arched a brow, shifting her gaze to Colin. “And you Mr Bridgerton intend to… what? Court my daughter?”

Colin met her gaze without hesitation and nodded.

“With the intention of marriage?”

He straightened, his posture unwavering. “That is correct.” His voice was steady, resolute.

“Colin!” Penelope had agreed to the strong feelings part, but what was this? Marriage talks? Between Colin and her mother?

"And as such, I would appreciate the same fair consideration as any other suitor."

A heavy silence settled over the room, thick with unspoken thoughts. At last, Lady Portia exhaled and set her glass down with a soft clink. "You want to marry my Penelope?” Her gaze flicked to her daughter, who was already watching her, tense with anticipation. She dabbed at her mouth with a napkin, her tone light yet pointed. “Well… inviting her ex-boyfriend to stay with us does complicate things, doesn’t it?” She let the statement hang in the air before sighing and surveying the table. “Very well. I believe this calls for a more private conversation—just you and me, Mr. Bridgerton.” Her voice remained perfectly neutral, revealing nothing. Then, she pushed back her chair. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

“Mother, where are you going? You can’t just walk away in the middle of this conversation!” Penelope burst out.

“I simply need to call Mr. Debling and let him know he may need to find other accommodations, after all.” She glanced at Colin, her lips curving ever so slightly. “I wouldn’t want anyone thinking I’m playing favorites.”

Penelope shot Colin a bewildered look, her mind racing to keep up. Why was this escalating so quickly? Before she could voice her disbelief, Lady Portia swept out of the room and the moment the door shut behind her, Colin reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “Pen,” his thumb brushed soothing circles over her skin. “I’ve got a plan.”

“A plan? Colin, you just told my mother you intend to marry me.”

He grinned, utterly unbothered. “Yes, and?”

She gaped at him. “And you don’t think that’s something you should’ve maybe discussed with me first?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Colin assured her, his voice low and steady. “For now, please just trust me.”

Andrew cleared his throat. “Wow. So you two got ‘engaged’ over the weekend and didn’t think to mention it?” He downed the last of his wine, then turned to Marina—who was now hiding behind her napkin, doubly embarrassed by the turn of events.

“Nice one, Andrew,” Prudence scoffed, shaking her head. “And here I thought you were supposed to be the bad cop this weekend. Ha!”

Chapter Text

The night was quiet—too quiet for the storm raging inside Penelope. She stood near the rail, gripping them as if she needed something solid to keep her grounded.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath, pressing her fingers against her temples. “Absolutely unbelievable.”

A few feet away, Colin leaned against a lounge chair, looking far too relaxed for someone who had just, in front of her mother, declared his intention to marry her.

Marriage.

She spun to face him, incredulous. “What just happened, Colin?” Her voice wavered between exasperation and sheer panic. “One minute, you’re telling my mother to uninvite Alfred Debling—my ex-boyfriend—from staying here, and the next, you’re telling her you want to court me with the intent of marriage? Marriage, Colin! Marriage!?!?”

Colin exhaled through his nose, a slight smirk playing on his lips. “Penelope—”

“No, no ‘Penelope’ me.” She took a step closer, jabbing a finger at his chest. “You’ve single-handedly managed to take what was already an awkward situation and turn it into something catastrophic. Snowballing doesn’t even begin to cover what you’ve just done.” Colin reached for her hand, but she yanked it away, pacing furiously. “Do you know what this means? My mother will not let this go. Ever. Ever!”

“Pen—”

“And what do you even mean, you have a plan?” She whirled around to face him, eyes flashing. “This isn’t some grand strategic campaign, Colin! This is our lives.”

Colin sighed, stepping closer, his voice low and steady. “I meant what I said, Pen. I care about you. A lot. And I wanted to make that clear to your mother. I wanted her to know I’m serious.”

“Oh, yeah. She definitely knows now!” Penelope threw her hands up. “She probably thinks we’ve eloped already and that I’m hiding a secret marriage license under my pillow! Or worse, I am probably carrying your child.” He was clearly amused, and that only made her glare at him harder. “This isn’t funny,” she snapped. “I need you to go home. Before you make things even worse.”

Colin sighed but didn’t argue, which Penelope took as a minor victory.

That victory, however, was short-lived. Because before Colin could so much as move, they appeared. Prudence and Philippa. Their expressions were identical—equal parts amusement, curiosity, and mild concern.

Prudence crossed her arms and eyed them both. “So, this is where the newly engaged couple seek refuge...” she said, voice dripping with skepticism. “What’s all this then?”

Penelope groaned. “Not now, Pru.”

But Philippa ignored her, focusing entirely on Colin. “Not now? Could you tone it down a notch?” she advised, as if he were an overzealous performer who needed to take direction.

“Excuse me?”

Prudence gestured vaguely between him and Penelope. “Are you two even together?”

“Not yet,” Colin answered smoothly.

“Precisely!” Philippa exclaimed. “Which is one of the top reasons you should chill the f out.”

Prudence smirked. “That is, unless…” Her gaze slid toward Penelope. “Something happened between you two over the weekend...something irreversible... that explains why you suddenly want this relationship to progress at lightning speed?”

Penelope froze. The heat that rushed to her face was immediate, burning from the base of her neck to the tips of her ears. She wasn’t sure which was worse—Prudence’s now smug expression or Philippa’s knowing grin. Or, perhaps, Colin’s silence. Because he wasn’t denying it. He wasn’t saying anything at all. And that was enough to send Penelope into full retreat mode. “You know what, I’m tired,” she said, her tone clipped but weary. “Goodnight, Colin.”

He finally sighed and turned back to the Featherington sisters. “It’s going to be fine. She's just overreacting.”

Prudence arched a brow. “We’ll see how fine you’ll be once you meet the ex boyfriend.”

Colin grinned. “Ohhh, can’t wait.”

Chapter Text

[Grand hall, Featherington Offices]

The venue had been transformed for the evening—a seamless blend of opulence and professionalism. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm, golden glow over the grand hall, where servers in crisp uniforms glided effortlessly through the crowd, offering glasses of champagne and other spirits. It was a pivotal night, a carefully curated networking event for designers and suppliers, and Penelope's team had spent the week ensuring every detail was executed to perfection.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" she muttered to Andrew as they stood near the stage.

"Not at all," he replied cheerfully, while fixing the loose strands of her hair that bound her face. "But it is what it is, Pen. Invitations were sent, plans were made, and, well, it was only a matter of time before they meet. There’s no turning back now."

Penelope exhaled slowly, smoothing her hands over the emerald-green fabric of her gown. Colin was, of course, her date for the evening, but Alfred Debling’s presence was inevitable. As a visiting supplier, his name had been firmly secured on the guest list—Lady Featherington had made sure of that. In her world, business always came first.

"And besides," Andrew said, leveling her with a knowing look, "Colin is dating you with the intention of marriage. Do you really think your ex-boyfriend poses that much of a threat?"

"Is that what my mother told you when she added Alfred to the VIP list?"

Andrew sighed dramatically. "You did not hear it from me." Then, flashing a grin, he added, "Let’s just try to enjoy the evening, shall we?"

"I’ll do my best," she said, though her tone lacked conviction. "Who knows? I’ll be running around like a headless chicken all night—maybe I won’t even have time to babysit two grown men."

Andrew smirked. "Ah, but please don’t tell me that means I have to fill in for you?"

Penelope looped her arm through his. "I expect nothing less, Davies. Besides, you like Colin’s company anyway."

Andrew let out an exaggerated sigh. "True." She laughed as he scanned the growing crowd, elegantly dressed guests mingling under the chandeliers. "Speaking of enjoyable company—where is Bridgerton?"

"He’s coming with his family," Penelope said, rolling her eyes with fond exasperation. "By now, you should know they arrive in packs."

The Bridgertons arrived in true Bridgerton fashion—half an hour late but effortlessly charming. Colin walked in alongside Lady Violet, greeting Lady Featherington near the entrance. Portia, ever the gracious hostess, was elated at their arrival and wasted no time ensuring they were led to their designated table. A full table of eight had been reserved just for them—Violet, Eloise, Phillip, Hyacinth, Gregory, and now the unexpected but welcome addition of Daphne and Simon, fresh from the countryside.

Not long after, Penelope passed by their table, offering a warm smile. Colin didn’t hesitate—pressing a kiss to her cheek before catching her hand, fingers lacing through hers with practiced ease. "You all look lovely! Thank you so much for coming," Penelope said, beaming.

"Thank you for having us, dear," Violet responded warmly. "It’s a beautiful event."

"Pen, I can't believe you managed to pull this through in just a few days! Well done!" Eloise commented.

"Ah, but the real test is if you enjoy yourselves this evening." She winked.

"Oh, believe me, Colin’s already enjoying himself quite a lot," Gregory quipped, mischief dancing in his eyes as the rest of the table tried—and failed—to hide their grins.

"Is he now?" Penelope arched a brow.

"Yeah, he practically drove like a madman to get here," Phillip added.

"I should know," Simon chimed in, smirking. "I was right behind them."

Colin, utterly unbothered, merely rubbed the back of his neck, while brushing his fingers against Penelope’s in the process. "I was just excited, that’s all."

The evening had begun to settle into its predictable rhythm—laughter over half-empty glasses, conversations that meandered between pleasantries and thinly veiled gossip, and, of course, the unspoken but ever-present dance of social maneuvering. Alfred Debling, for all his usual confidence, had spent most of the night in an odd state of limbo. He had arrived with the intention of mingling, but the reality was that he had been adrift, moving from group to group without ever truly being included in any of them.

That was, until the Featheringtons—out of sheer obligation, rather than any real enthusiasm—had extended him some semblance of company.

Prudence carried herself with the kind of composed civility that only someone well-versed in tolerating people they disliked could manage. She had never been particularly fond of Alfred, but she knew the importance of maintaining good ties, especially when business could be involved. Philippa, on the other hand, had a slightly different approach. She wasn’t as openly dismissive as Prudence, but she also wasn’t above making it known when someone’s presence had outstayed its welcome. And that was precisely what she intended to find out. “So, Alfred,” Philippa began, swirling her drink absentmindedly. “London must have been quite the change from wherever you’ve been. Are you… settled back in, or is this just a visit?” She delivered the question with a pleasant enough smile, but the implication was clear: How much longer do we have to entertain you?

Alfred, to his credit, didn’t seem bothered by her subtle attempt to nudge him toward an answer. Instead, he offered a knowing smile. “I suppose I’m still figuring that out,” he mused. “There’s much to consider. I mean, business over here is good. Very good. But it depends where I'm needed the most.”

Prudence barely suppressed a sigh. She was already growing tired of this exchange when she caught sight of Andrew walking past. Without hesitation, she reached out, caught his sleeve, and pulled him toward their group. "What the--" Andrew barely had time to register what was happening before he found himself among them. “Ah, Andrew, perfect timing,” Prudence declared, flashing him a triumphant smile.

Andrew’s eyes flickered between the people at the table, immediately clocking the tension. He exhaled quietly, knowing exactly why he had been pulled into this. His role, as always, was to diffuse. “Right,” he said, settling in. “If we’re all terribly bored, I suppose I could entertain you with some behind-the-scenes disasters from the suppliers we’ve been dealing with. You’d be amazed at the lengths we’ve had to go to in order to avoid catastrophe.”

That managed to garner some interest. Albion laughed, Philippa leaned in slightly, and even Prudence looked mildly intrigued.

Alfred, however, saw an opportunity in the shift and took it. “Speaking of disasters,” he said, his tone light but deliberate, “I hear Penelope and Colin are the newest topic of discussion.”

Prudence shot him a sharp look. “And?”

Alfred shrugged. “Just curious, really. Everyone seems to think they make a fine match.”

“Because they do make a fine match,” Philippa said matter-of-factly.

“Colin makes her laugh. That’s always a good sign.”

Albion, who had remained mostly quiet until now, finally spoke up. “They seem happy.”

Alfred hummed in response, but his expression remained unreadable. Prudence, never one to tiptoe around matters she found annoying, cut straight to the point. “Debling, don’t tell me you’re still interested in our sister?” He met her gaze and smirked. He didn’t confirm, nor did he deny.

Albion, ever the practical one, decided to make it plain. “Penelope is dating someone else, Alfred.”

Mister Debling took his time, bringing his glass to his lips and taking a slow sip before lowering it with a knowing smile. His voice was casual—almost too casual. “I think that’s rather my specialty,” he mused. “Women who are already attached are the easiest to snatch. Besides, Penelope and I have history.”

The moment the words left his mouth, silence fell over the group like a heavy curtain. Andrew, who had been attempting to keep the conversation pleasant, immediately noticed the way Prudence’s entire posture shifted. Her hand, previously resting on the table in a display of practiced elegance, curled into a tight fist. Her patience, already razor-thin, had just snapped. “I swear,” she muttered under her breath, voice dangerously low, “if you weren’t here, Andrew, I would have punched this man in the face.”

Andrew gently placed a hand on her arm as if to physically keep her calm. He leaned in slightly. “I know he gets on your nerves the most, Pru,” he said. “Just let it go for now. I have a feeling someone will put him in his place soon enough.”

Prudence exhaled sharply through her nose, clearly still fuming, but she didn’t argue. She trusted Andrew’s instincts—he was rarely wrong about these things. And as much as she wanted to handle Alfred herself, the thought of him finally getting what was coming to him from someone else was almost more satisfying.

Before the tension could thicken, a sharp tapping of a microphone echoed through the hall.

“Ladies and gentlemen, if I may have your attention, please.” Portia Featherington’s voice rang out, all practiced elegance. She stood on the stage, beaming at the crowd. “Thank you all for joining us this evening. We are thrilled to have welcomed such talented designers and suppliers from all over the country under one roof. The Featherington name has long been associated with excellence, and tonight, we celebrate the future of collaboration.” Penelope took a deep breath from where she stood with Colin. But before she could take a single step, her mother's voice rang out again. “And before we end this beautiful event, I have the most delightful news to share. One that has overtaken my family with much joy. My youngest daughter, Penelope, has just recently become engaged to the ever-charming Colin Bridgerton. Let's give them a warm applause!”

A stunned silence stretched for a single heartbeat before the room erupted into thunderous applause. Glasses clinked, well-wishers cheered, and all eyes—along with the follow spot—turned toward Penelope, who stood utterly frozen, her breath caught in her throat.

Colin, however, remained unfazed. With an arch of his brow, equal parts amused and intrigued, he stepped closer, effortlessly composed. “Shall we go along with it?” his voice meant only for her.

Penelope wanted to throttle her mother. Or vanish into the floor. Either option seemed preferable to standing beneath the weight of so many expectant stares. But as she took in the smiles surrounding her—and the triumphant gleam in Portia’s eyes—she knew there was no undoing this now. With a resigned sigh, she tilted her head toward Colin, her voice dry but laced with something softer. “It’s a good thing I like you a lot.”

Colin leaned in just enough for his breath to warm her ear. “Enough to accept my proposal soon?” he whispered. Then, with a teasing glint, he added, “Looks like I’ll have to get you a ring. Quickly.”

Her lips curved, the laughter just beneath the surface. But then, something caught her eye. “You know what’s funny? Your mother doesn’t look remotely surprised at the announcement.”

Chapter Text

[Main Bridgerton House]

In the quiet refuge of the Bridgerton library—Penelope and Colin had carved out a moment just for themselves. She sat curled up on the window seat, absently swirling the last of her wine in its glass. She could still hear Marina’s boisterous laugh from below and Portia’s unmistakable attempts at charming Violet Bridgerton. 

Meanwhile, Colin lounged in the chair opposite her, his long legs stretched out, the firelight catching the hints of gold in his hair. “So Miss Featherington, I believe there's no turning back now.” His voice held that teasing, bemused tone, as if he was still processing the reality of it all.

“Uh huh, that’s what the announcement and the very loud cheers confirmed.”

Colin sighed theatrically, draping an arm over the back of the chair. “And here I was, thinking I’d be the one to make the grand declaration of my love.”

She shot him a dry look. “Please, you’d have taken an eternity, weighing every possible way to say it, and by then, my mother would’ve already sent out wedding invitations.”

A comfortable silence stretched between them. Penelope looked down at the stunning ruby ring on her finger, the one he had slipped onto her hand days after Portia’s dramatic announcement. It had once belonged to his grandmother, a piece of family history now intertwined with her own. “What do you want our engagement to look like?” Colin asked suddenly, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful.

“Everything is happening so fast, Colin… I just want to enjoy being engaged first, rather than sprinting to the altar.” She traced the rim of her glass, gathering her thoughts.

His expression softened, though his eyes gleamed with something unreadable. “So, you want a long one...”

“To slow down this marathon of a buildup, don’t you agree?”

Colin, ever the rogue, leaned in, his smirk practically dripping with mischief. “Don’t you want to run to the finish line?”

“What’s the rush?” She bent closer. “Eloise's wedding is coming up. That said, your family will already have two weddings this year. Do you really want to add one more?”

“Oh, I dunno.” He shrugged, but there was a tenderness beneath the teasing. “We wasted twelve plus years in limbo. I’d rather spend the rest in bliss with you.”

A part of her wanted that too—more than anything. But then, reality crept in. Penelope sighed. “I just want to enjoy this—the present. Besides, we should probably brace ourselves.”

Colin brow quirked. “For what?”

“For Alfred.”

She didn’t miss the way his entire body tensed at the name.

Colin exhaled through his nose, not quite a sigh but close. “Why do we have to be wary of your ex-boyfriend?”

“For one, I recently found out that he struck a deal with our design team. I haven't asked Andrew why the approval was given but it is what it is. Meaning, he’ll be around the office quite a bit.”

Colin’s jaw flexed, but his expression remained carefully neutral. “Of course he will be.”

“Are you okay with it?” she asked, watching him closely.

He met her gaze, unreadable. “Are you?”

“You sure you won’t be jealous?”

Again, a question. “Will there be a reason for me to be?”

Penelope let out a short laugh, shaking her head. “Why are you answering my questions with a question?”

His lips twitched. “You don’t want that?”

She groaned, rolling her eyes. Colin smirked, reaching up to cup her cheek. “Look, Debling can linger around your office all he wants. But you’re mine, Penelope.” His voice was quieter now, more certain. “That’s never going to change.”

She tilted her head slightly, studying him. “You do know why I broke up with him, don’t you?”

“I have a pretty good idea.”

“He cheated on me. Many times,” she said, voice steady, as if it were merely a fact and not an old wound. “And I haven't forgotten that. I never have, and I never will.”

Colin’s hand tightened around hers, his thumb tracing circles against her skin. “You shouldn’t have to.”

“Just so you know, I’m not worried about him, but we still have to be careful.” she admitted. “Cheating is his lifestyle, Colin. Not just with women, it's the same for other aspects of his life. It’s something I can never tolerate, ever. And that’s why he and I were never meant to last.” She squeezed his hand. “Now, he’s back as a business associate, which I still am highly questioning.”

Colin studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable—until a smirk slowly curved at the edges of his lips. “You really do like it when I’m possessive, don’t you?”

Her smile was just as slow, just as knowing. “Bridgerton, that’s a double-edged sword.”

“Is it?” He tilted her chin up with his fingers, his touch featherlight but deliberate. “Well, I don’t plan on being too extreme about it. If you were talking to the younger me, I’d probably be throwing punches by now.” He paused, amusement flickering in his gaze. “But I know better.”

“Ah,” she mused, eyes glinting. “So that’s what turning thirty feels like.”

He exhaled a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re teasing me again, aren’t you?” He shook his head. "Just you wait when you get to my age."

Before she could answer, he kissed her—slow and deliberate—silencing whatever witty remark she had brewing. And downstairs, their families remained obliviously wrapped up in idle conversation, none the wiser to the moments unfolding between them.

[Andrew's Office]

Andrew’s office smelled like coffee and paperwork—organized chaos at its finest. The floor-to-ceiling windows let in just enough light to soften the sharp edges of the tension brewing between Alfred Debling and Penelope Featherington, who sat in his round table.

"You still order the same thing," Alfred mused, watching as Penelope picked up the steaming cup of Earl Grey from the tray Andrew had unceremoniously dropped on the desk. "No sugar, just a splash of honey."

Penelope didn’t look up as she stirred her tea. "And yet, you ordered it for me like I suddenly forgot how."

"Force of habit." He leaned forward with an easy smirk. “I assume Colin knows how you take your tea?”

Andrew, who had been quiet up until now, let out a short laugh from where he leaned against his desk. "Bold of you to assume Colin isn't paying more attention than you ever did, Debling."

Alfred barely spared him a glance before sighing dramatically. “Good, good. You always did like men who paid attention, Pen.” He tapped his fingers against the table, a calculated pause. “I wonder, though—does he read poetry with you? I remember your Tennyson obsession back in the day. If I had a flower for every time I thought of you…” He trailed off, waiting, expecting something.

Penelope finally set her cup down and looked at him, expression unwavering. “Colin has his own ways of making me feel cherished. Unlike you, he doesn’t have to remind me of it 24/7.”

Andrew let out an exaggerated whistle, low and impressed, while Alfred’s smirk faltered for just a second. “Well,” Andrew said, clapping his hands together. “As much as I’d love to witness Alfred over here make an even bigger fool of himself, we do have actual work to do. And, Pen, didn’t you have somewhere else to be? Another onboarding meeting, right?” He stressed the word, grinning.

Penelope stood, smoothing out the front of her blouse with deliberate ease. “Indeed, I do.” She turned back to Alfred, lips curving into something polite but detached. “See you at home, Andrew.”

With that, Penelope walked out, leaving Andrew to shoot Alfred a pointed look. “Just give me a minute, Alfred. Let me call my assistant so she can set up the laptop.”

As he pulled out his phone, it buzzed with an incoming message.

Pen: Why is he still insufferable? And more importantly, why did you say yes to that man?!

He quickly typed out a response, but before he could hit send, Alfred stood and wandered toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, hands in his pockets. His reflection stared back at him, unreadable. "Can I ask you something important, Andrew?"

"If it's about work, ask away."

"There must be another reason why our deal was approved, yes?"

Andrew leaned back against his desk, arms crossed. "I mean, your company's proposal was solid. The numbers added up. The board went for it..."

“Aside from that… there must be another reason. One that’s a little more personal. The universe doesn't tease fate like this.”

Andrew didn’t so much as blink, but there was an unmistakable sharpness in his tone. “Oh, you really shouldn’t fool yourself into thinking this goes beyond professional, Alfred.”

“Maybe I should.” He turned then, slipping his hands into his pockets with an air of ease that Andrew didn’t buy for a second. “Because did you see how Penelope looked at me?”

Andrew’s fingers froze over his phone screen. He lifted his gaze, his stomach twisting—not in doubt, but in sheer disbelief at the level of delusion standing in his office. He let out a short, incredulous laugh, shaking his head. “Wait. You’re serious?”

Alfred Debling’s smirk only deepened.

“Oh, you are,” Andrew muttered, setting his phone down and folding his arms. “Alfred, you’re either completely delusional, or you’ve got a possessive streak so wide it’s clouding what little judgment you have left.”

"Possessive? Now, that’s an interesting take."

Andrew let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "No, what’s actually interesting is that you still think Penelope’s entertaining you." He leaned back against his desk, leveling Alfred with a look that was both unimpressed and faintly amused. The blonde man chuckled, slow and unbothered, like he was in on some kind of joke. His fingers twitched against his palm, a telltale sign of a man who wasn’t as unaffected as he pretended to be.

A knock on the door broke the tension just as Andrew’s secretary stepped inside. "If I were you, I’d be really careful. Times are different now." His voice was even, but the weight behind it was unmistakable. Then, with the barest tilt of his head, he added, "Besides, ever heard of karma?"

For the first time, Alfred had nothing to say.

[Couple of days later at the mall]

Prudence had been having a perfectly fine afternoon—well, as fine as an afternoon could be when spent with her sister Philippa, who had a knack for dragging her into things she had absolutely no interest in. But shopping was shopping, and a sale was a sale.

They were exiting a boutique when Philippa suddenly grabbed her arm. "Oh my goodness. Look."

Prudence barely spared her a glance. "If this is about another floral dress, I swear—"

"No, no, no—look over there."

Following Philippa’s gaze, Prudence nearly groaned out loud. Because of all the people they could run into, it had to be him. Alfred Debling. Standing by a café entrance, scrolling through his phone, dressed in that annoyingly put-together way of his.

"Ugh. Just our luck." She turned to her sister. "Let’s go before he sees us. I've had enough small talk with that man."

Philippa, however, was still staring. "Or… we could follow him."

"Follow him? Have you lost your mind, Pip?"

"A little. But aren't you curious? Who is he meeting? What is he up to? What if he's scheming something?"

Prudence crossed her arms. "I don't care what he's up to. We already know he's insufferable."

"Exactly! So wouldn’t it be fun to confirm it?" Philippa grinned.

Prudence huffed, glancing back at Debling, who had just checked his watch before heading inside the café. "This is a complete waste of our time," she muttered, pulling out her phone and checking for updates from Penelope.

Philippa peeked over her shoulder, reading the message before turning back to Prudence. "Just for a little while! Until Pen arrives or something. Come on, where’s your sense of adventure, Pru?"

"This is not the adventure I signed up for today!" Prudence rolled her eyes but followed anyway, keeping a few paces behind as they snuck into the café, slipping into a corner booth. And that’s when they saw her. Alfred had taken a seat across from a woman—poised, elegant, with a knowing smile as she sipped her wine.

Prudence’s eyes locked in on them. "Wait. That woman. She looks oddly familiar."

Philippa frowned. "Who could she be?"

Prudence tapped a finger against her chin, studying the woman’s features. Something about her was familiar, but she couldn't place it just yet. Then she heard a click. She turned just in time to see Philippa, holding her phone up like some undercover detective. "Philippa! What are you doing?!"

"Getting evidence, obviously." Philippa smirked, rapidly snapping another photo.

"Evidence for what?"

"I don’t know yet! But just in case, we should send it to Andrew."

Before Prudence could stop her, Philippa had already sent the pictures to their group chat.

Philippa: Look who we found in the mall. 👀

Seconds later, Andrew replied.

Andrew: Are you two stalking him?

Philippa: Investigating. There’s a difference.

Andrew: Tell me why I shouldn’t block this chat right now.

Philippa: Because you’re just as curious as we are. Who’s the woman?

Prudence groaned, dropping her head into her hands. "I really don’t care who he hangs out with." But her eyes lingered just a little longer. Because something about this did feel off. And for some reason, she had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time they crossed paths. She squinted at her phone, pinching the screen to zoom in on the photo Philippa had just taken. The moment the woman’s face became clearer, her eyes widened. “Oh. My. God. Wait.”

“What?”

Prudence nearly dropped her phone. “I know her.”

“What do you mean you know her? Who is she?!”

Prudence’s voice dropped to a whisper, though no one was around to hear them. “She works at our office! She’s in the marketing team. Pen's team! What’s her name again—Lena? Lisa? Laura?”

Philippa gasped, immediately scrolling through her phone. “Wait. Laura! Laura Simmons? The one who joined us last year? That's interesting. I heard Mama's not a big fan of her work ethic.”

Prudence snapped her fingers. “Yes! That’s the one! Laura Simmons.” She looked back at the photo, her stomach twisting. “What the hell is she doing with him?”

Philippa whistled, sending another message to the group chat.

Philippa: Update: We know her. Laura Simmons. Should we be concerned?

It didn’t take long for Andrew to reply.

Andrew: You're kidding. I've met that girl a few times. I'm not sure she's on my goody good list though.

Prudence: I smell trouble.

A few seconds later, another message popped up.

Andrew: Now, I’m actually curious. What is Alfred playing at? 

Prudence smirked as she typed.

Prudence: I've got to ask Pen when she arrives.

Andrew’s reply came almost instantly.

Andrew: Pen is joining you? Why am I not invited to this?

Philippa: It’s a girls’ day out, silly. Feel free to join us tonight. Even Albie is stuck at home. You two can have some lunch with Mama or something.

Andrew: I'll ask Albie later when I see him.

Andrew: Let me know where you girls want to meet up tonight. I actually want to check out this new Mexican place. We can all get margaritas and tequila shots! 

Philippa: Please, you just want the scoop.

Andrew: I hate that you know me too well, Pip.

Prudence rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smirk. “Hold on, Pen’s calling. Let me take this,” she said, stepping aside. “You stay here and keep snapping evidence.”

Philippa grinned, shaking her head. “And to think you were the one saying we didn’t need to follow him! Tsk, tsk.”

Chapter Text

[At a random restaurant]

“You’re enjoying this way too much.” Penelope stared at Colin from across the table, watching as he took a slow, deliberate sip of his wine, a smirk playing at his lips. The candlelight flickered between them, setting the perfect, romantic atmosphere—one he was clearly using to his advantage.

Colin set his glass down, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “What? Our lovely nine-out-of-ten date?”

Penelope groaned, stabbing her fork into her plate with unnecessary force. “Oh, for the love of—will you stop saying that?”

“Why?” He leaned in, all lazy confidence. “You don’t like the rating? Shall we work on making it a ten, then?”

She nearly choked. “Colin!”

He was shameless and completely unapologetic for humiliating her in front of her family the other night. “You’re acting as if I revealed some grand secret. They already knew we weren’t exactly chaste, darling.”

Penelope’s glare could have set his shirt on fire. “That’s not the point! The point is, you sat there and announced our level of…of…intimacy to my sisters! You gave it a numerical value!”

“A generous one, might I add.”

She huffed, crossing her arms. “The least you could do is show some humility. Maybe act a little ashamed.”

He feigned deep thought, then grinned. “Hmm. No.”

Penelope threw her napkin at him. He caught it—of course he did—and merely laughed. “And yet, you’re still here, dining with me, looking lovely as ever.” She willed herself to ignore how handsome he looked tonight. She had come determined to punish him for his smugness, not feed into it. Colin, as if reading her mind, reached across the table, gently tracing circles on the back of her hand. “If it helps, I do have some regrets.”

She raised a suspicious brow. “Really?”

“Yes.” He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to her knuckles. “Regret number one: not making it a ten.”

Penelope snatched her hand back. “You’re getting on my nerves!”

Colin laughed, completely unrepentant. “But you love me.”

She pointed her fork at him. “Jury’s still out on that.”

“Shall I work on convincing you? Perhaps over dessert?”

Penelope groaned again, but she couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at her lips. He was impossible, infuriating, and utterly shameless—and yes, fine, she did love him. But she’d be damned if she let him know that right now. Minutes later, Penelope had half a mind to stab her crème brûlée with her fork just to have something to take her frustration out on. But before she could, Colin, still grinning like the absolute menace that he was, signaled the waiter over.

“We’ll have dessert,” he said smoothly, his thumb lazily tracing circles on the back of Penelope’s hand again. “But between you and me, darling, I’d much rather have you for dessert.”

Penelope choked on her wine.

Colin, true to form, looked completely unbothered. “What?” he said, eyes twinkling with mischief. “It’s a fair preference, don’t you think?”

She groaned, covering her face with both hands. “Why are you like this?”

“Born this way, I suppose.”

Penelope peeked at him through her fingers, narrowing her eyes. “Heading home is much better than suffering right now.”

She rolled her eyes and made the mistake of letting her guard down for just a second—because when the waiter returned to take their order, Colin barely glanced at the menu before saying, “Actually, cancel the dessert.”

Penelope blinked. “You just said you wanted dessert.”

Colin turned to her, all capital S Smug. “And you just said you wanted to go home.”

Penelope’s face flamed, realizing exactly what he was insinuating. “That is not—”

“Check, please!” Colin cut in, flashing the waiter a bright, far-too-eager smile.

“No, I'd like the menu, please.”

Colin, dropping some cash on the table without even waiting for the bill, simply stood up and offered her his hand. “No, you don’t.”

She glared. “I should make you suffer for this.”

His grin turned absolutely wicked. “Darling, I’d enjoy that far too much.”

[Valet area]

The evening had been going too well. That should have been Penelope’s first warning. As they stepped outside, waiting for their valet, the warm evening air did little to soothe the fire that still burned on her cheeks from Colin’s shameless antics. But just as she was about to finally relax, the universe—as always—had other plans. Because of course, standing just a few feet away, laughing over something utterly uninteresting, were Alfred Debling and Laura Simmons.

Penelope stopped in her tracks. Colin, ever attuned to her moods, followed her gaze and immediately groaned under his breath. “Really? Now? It’s like the man has a radar for making our nights worse.”

Before she could respond, Alfred spotted them. His eyes lit up in delight—the absolute nerve—and he took a step forward, Laura at his side, looking poised and… smug? Why was she smug?

“Penelope and Colin,” Alfred greeted, a little too pleased. “Fancy meeting you both here.”

Penelope forced a polite smile, though her insides twisted. “Alfred.”

Alfred’s gaze flickered between her and Colin, lingering just a little too long on Penelope. “You seem surprised to see me. Or is it—” his voice dropped into something horribly self-satisfied, “that you’re surprised to see me with someone?”

Penelope blinked. Her head whipped toward Colin, baffled, but Colin was watching the scene unfold with the tired patience of a man who had long resigned himself to being surrounded by idiots.

“You do realize,” she said slowly, “that I am with Colin, right?”

Alfred smirked. “Of course,” he said, sounding entirely unconvinced. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t still look at me like—”

“Oh, for the love of—” Colin cut in, stepping forward and placing a firm hand on Penelope’s lower back, steering her toward their approaching car. “We’d love to stay and chat, but we really must be going.”

Penelope, still stunned by Alfred’s delusions, wordlessly climbed into the car. She barely noticed Alfred leaning toward Colin as the valet parked their vehicle, whispering something just low enough that she couldn't hear.

But Colin heard. And if the absolute transformation on his face was any indication, whatever Alfred had said had struck a nerve. Because the moment Colin slid into the driver’s seat and shut the door, his entire demeanor changed. Gone was the smug, teasing man who had been tormenting her all evening. Now, he looked capital furious. His hands gripped the steering wheel a little too tightly, jaw clenched so hard it could break.

Penelope glanced at him, wary. “What's wrong? What did he say?”

“Nothing that he won’t regret soon.”

[Inside Colin's car]

The drive back was unusually silent. Colin wasn’t sulking exactly, but his fingers hadn’t loosened from the steering wheel, and his usual playful smirk was nowhere to be found. Penelope wasn’t used to this version of Colin—lowkey angry, simmering just beneath the surface.

She shifted in her seat, sneaking a glance at him. “Are you going to tell me what he said, or am I supposed to sit here and guess?” Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Colin.”

“It was nothing.”

She tried again, gentler this time. “I know you, and I know when something’s bothering you. Just tell me.”

By the time they pulled up to the estate, Penelope was officially done with the brooding because how can he switch it up and down like that?! Before he could make an excuse to leave, she reached for his wrist. “Come in.”

Colin hesitated. “Pen—I'd rather go home.”

“I know but I’m inviting you in, Colin.” Her voice was quiet, but firm. “Come on.”

Something flickered in his eyes. Frustration? Wariness? Either way, she saw the exact moment he gave in. Wordlessly, he killed the engine and stepped out of the car. Inside, the house was mercifully quiet. It seemed her mother and sisters had already retired for the evening—thank God.

She led him to the sitting room, turning to face him once they were alone. “Alright,” she said, arms crossed. “Tell me what Debling said.”

Colin looked deeply reluctant, but she wasn’t going to let this go. Finally, he muttered, “He said that you and he had already gone all the way. Many times.”

Penelope’s brain short-circuited. “I’m sorry, what?!”

Colin's hands curled into fists. “And then he said he wished the same for me.” 

“Alfred said what?!” Penelope’s entire soul recoiled. “I never—Colin, I wouldn’t even—!”

His gaze finally met hers, and she saw the storm behind his eyes. “I know, Penelope.”

Something in his voice softened her immediate rage. Because this wasn’t about doubting her. This was about Debling. About what he had implied. About the fact that he had dared to whisper such a thing to Colin of all people, as if she had been some sort of conquest to compare.

Colin inhaled sharply. “I wanted to hit him.”

“I think that’s exactly what he wanted.”

His jaw ticked. “Well, congratulations to him. He almost got it.”

“He’s an idiot.”

Colin studied her for a long moment, then exhaled, some of the tension finally easing from his shoulders. “Yeah,” he muttered. "That sanctimonious bastard," he ground out through gritted teeth. “A nine?! A nine, Penelope?!” His fury was un-contained. “I said nine like an idiot, and meanwhile that cretin is out there—actually—” He cut himself off, chest rising and falling with deep, barely restrained breaths. Penelope winced. Yeah… she could see how this was a bit of a sore spot. She had tried to tell him to be humble earlier, hadn’t she? But no. Colin Bridgerton never learned his lesson the easy way. “I cannot believe I sat there like some cocky imbecile bragging about—about what exactly? Heavy petting? Finger fucking? A few extremely heated moments?” He threw his hands in the air. “Meanwhile, Debling is out there bold-faced lying about your sex life?”

Penelope swallowed, watching as he ran a frustrated hand through his curls. “I swear to you, if he were in this room right now, I’d—”

“Colin,” she cut in quickly, stepping into his space. “It’s not true. You know that.”

“That’s not the point, Penelope. The point is that I just made an absolute arse of myself while he gets to walk around acting as if—”

She grabbed his face. That at least made him pause. His blue eyes blazed down at her, his breath coming fast. “You are the only man I have ever wanted, Colin,” she said, voice steady despite the chaos in the room. “You know that.”

He stared at her for a long moment, and finally, the tension in his body began to ebb. His hands found her waist, pulling her in. But the fire in his eyes hadn’t completely faded. “That nine is a lie,” he muttered darkly.

Penelope let him rant for a moment—let him pace, let him fume—before she finally stepped into his path and tilted her head at him. “Colin?”

He barely stopped grumbling long enough to look at her. “What?”

She let her hands slide up his chest, felt his breath hitch at the deliberate slowness of it. “Would you like to make that nine real?” Her voice was low, teasing—dangerous.

His entire body froze. Colin Bridgerton—quick-witted, silver-tongued, utterly shameless Colin Bridgerton—had nothing to say.

She watched, amused, as his hands twitched at his sides, as his jaw worked like he was fighting some great internal battle, as he blinked at her like he was trying to process whether she had actually just said what he thought she had said. “Right here? Right now?” she pressed, voice dripping with challenge.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “…Are you serious? In this room?”

“Do you want me to be?”

For a moment, there was only silence. Then—“Pen, you are a menace.” His voice was hoarse, his hands gripping her waist like he was seconds away from losing the very last shred of his sanity.

She smirked. “Does that mean no?”

“It means I am hanging on by a thread.”

She hummed, brushing a feather-light kiss at the corner of his mouth. “Good.”

She felt his groan rather than heard it, his arms tightening around her as he buried his face against her shoulder. It took another few seconds, but finally—finally—his breathing evened out, his grip loosened, and he let out a defeated chuckle. “You play very dirty...”

“And yet, you love me all the same.”

He pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes warm despite the lingering frustration. “I do.”

She smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Fine. I’ll settle for the nine.” She let the words linger before adding with a teasing lilt, “So you can leave happily tonight.”

Colin let out a dramatic groan, flopping back against the couch. “You’re kicking me out?” He pouted. “I don’t even get to stay a little longer?”

Penelope rolled her eyes, exasperated but not the least bit surprised. The man had been smug, furious, jealous, and devastatingly charming—all within the span of an evening. Now, he had the audacity to beg? She shook her head, standing up. “Fine. But let’s hang out in my room instead. I have a feeling you’d enjoy it more than this boring sitting room.”

Colin was on his feet immediately, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her lips before grinning. “You know me too well, sweetheart.”

As they made their way upstairs, she glanced at Colin over her shoulder. “Just so we're clear, I actually want to watch this new series. You know—Netflix and chill… really chill.”

Colin stopped mid-step, blinking at her before a slow, knowing smirk stretched across his face. “Darling, I don’t think you understand what Netflix and chill actually means.”

“Of course, I do! It means watching Netflix and relaxing.”

Colin let out a laugh, stepping closer, his hands settling at her waist. “Penelope.” He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “That phrase definitely doesn’t mean what you think it does.”

Her eyes widened slightly before she shoved his chest. “I know what it means, okay!”

He only laughed, taking her hand as they continued up the stairs. “Well, if you insist on the chill part, I suppose I’ll have to be on my best behavior.”

[Penelope's bedroom]

Penelope was completely engrossed in the show, curled up comfortably on her couch, surrounded by an unnecessary—at least, according to Colin—amount of pillows. Meanwhile, Colin, rather than paying attention to the screen, was on a mission. One by one, he discreetly moved the pillows away, tossing them to the floor as he scooted closer. By the time Penelope finally noticed, Colin was right next to her, his arm draped casually behind her shoulders.

She glanced at him, then at the now pillow-less space between them.

"Why do you have so many pillows when you only need one?" Colin smiled.

"Are you saying you're the pillow?"

He tilted his head playfully. "I’m offering myself to be one."

Penelope snorted. "You’re not soft enough. For one, your biceps are too tight."

Colin gasped dramatically. "Since when have you touched my biceps?"

She ignored him, pretending to refocus on the screen, but he wasn’t about to let that slide. He started small, pressing kisses against her temple, trailing them slowly down to her cheek, then lower to her jaw. Penelope’s body tensed, but she valiantly pretended she didn’t feel a thing. “Colin, please.” she warned, shifting slightly.

“Please what?” His voice was all innocence, but his lips were anything but, brushing against the delicate skin just beneath her ear.

Her fingers twitched against the couch cushion. “I’m trying to—” His lips found the slope of her shoulder. “Watch—” A kiss to the curve of her neck. “The damn—” Another, just barely above the neckline of her shirt. “Show.” Penelope sucked in a sharp breath. Her brain was screaming at her to shove him away, to reclaim her personal space, but her body? Her traitorous body melted just a little with every press of his lips. Still, she wasn’t going down without a fight. She blindly reached for the remote, which was somewhere on the coffee table—or had she left it on the armrest? She stretched, trying to grab it without moving too much.

Colin took full advantage. His lips found the base of her throat, and this time, he didn’t just kiss—he lingered and sucked on her bare skin. “Col, wait!” she gasped, her fingers barely brushing the edge of the remote.

“Hmmmm??” His voice was husky now, warm against her skin, his hands smoothing over her waist, holding her close.

Her grip faltered. The remote slipped from her reach, and at the exact moment she attempted to dive forward to grab it, Colin struck—his teeth grazing her pulse point, followed by a slow, deliberate kiss to soothe the spot. That was it. Her entire body shuddered, her resistance crumbling like a house of cards. "Damn you."

Colin grinned against her skin. "Is that surrender I hear?"

"I'm beginning to dislike you."

"No, you don’t." His voice was low, warm, entirely too smug. He kissed just beneath her ear again, letting his fingers skim down her side, tracing slow, lazy circles along her ribs.

She exhaled shakily, her fingers curling uselessly into his shirt. His hand shifted, barely grazing the side of her breast as he adjusted his hold on her. The touch was light—too light—almost accidental, except they both knew it wasn’t. A soft gasp caught in her throat. And then, as if the night wasn’t already spiraling beyond her control, Colin decided to push further. His fingers found the hem of her top, toying with the fabric before slowly, deliberately, lifting it up and over her head. The second her top hit the floor, Colin completely froze. His brain short-circuited. For the first time that evening, he was the one rendered speechless. Penelope sat there in nothing but her bra, her skin warm from their closeness, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. She should have been embarrassed—except Colin looked like a man on the verge of collapse.

His mouth parted slightly, his gaze dark and utterly transfixed. "Oh," he breathed, swallowing thickly.

Penelope arched a brow, feigning indifference despite the warmth creeping up her neck. "Cat got your tongue?"

Colin dragged a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "Give me a second, babe… I’m having an experience."

She shook her head, biting back a smirk. Of course, she should have expected this. The great Colin Bridgerton, rendered momentarily speechless, his mind clearly short-circuiting as he stared at her—topless save for the flimsy lace of her bra. His eyes traced over her, lingering far too long in places that made her skin prickle with heat. "How much time do you need?" she teased, trying to keep her voice steady.

She laughed, the sound light and teasing, but before she could offer another quip, he snapped. It was as if something inside him broke. In the next breath, his hands were on her waist, firm and unyielding, pulling her onto his lap in one smooth motion. His mouth crashed against hers, hungry and desperate, a sharp contrast to his usual playful nature. Penelope barely had time to gasp before she was drowning in him. His lips moved feverishly, his hands pressing into her back, fingers splayed against bare skin as if to ground himself.

His hands skimmed up her sides, thumbs brushing just beneath the swell of her breasts, featherlight yet torturously slow. She felt his smirk against her lips when her breath hitched again, her body betraying her. Then, his fingers drifted to her back, finding the clasp of her bra with an almost arrogant certainty. Except—Nothing happened. Colin’s brows furrowed, his lips pausing against her skin as his fingers worked the delicate hooks. A second passed. Then another. His grip faltered, then adjusted, then faltered again.

Penelope bit her lip, trying desperately not to laugh. "Need help?"

"No," he gritted out, voice strained with determination. "I can do this."

She could practically hear his ego fighting for its life. Another moment of struggling. A muffled curse. Then a sharp exhale against her shoulder as he still—clearly admitting defeat, but too stubborn to voice it.

Penelope finally let out a soft giggle. "Colin Bridgerton stopped by a few flimsy hooks?"

He groaned dramatically, forehead dropping to her shoulder. "For the record, this is humiliating."

"For the record, I’m enjoying it."

Colin lifted his head, leveling her with a look that was half glare, half amusement. "You're actually the worst."

"And yet, here you are, still trying."

"Well, obviously." His fingers made another valiant effort, only to slip again. "I’m not a quitter, Penelope. But seriously, why is this thing engineered like Fort Knox?"

She outright laughed then, tilting her head back as he huffed against her skin, clearly flustered beyond reason. "You know," she mused, her voice dripping with amusement, "for someone who talks a big game, you’re really struggling right now."

"Oh, you little—" Before he could finish, she reached behind her with practiced ease and—click. The clasp came undone in a single smooth motion. He blinked. "You’re joking. How did you—"

She smirked, sliding the straps down her arms teasingly. "Some of us don’t just rely on charm, Bridgerton."

His eyes darkened immediately. Any trace of his former frustration was obliterated as his hands closed around her waist, dragging her impossibly closer. "Babe, you’re going to regret that."

And then, just like that, his mouth was on her again, making sure she had no chance to gloat.

Chapter Text

[Penelope's room]

Penelope lay beneath him, her hair fanned out across the pillows like a splash of fire, her lips parted, her chest rising and falling with each unsteady breath. Her skin, flushed and warm, was impossibly soft beneath his touch, and Colin swore he’d never felt anything more perfect in his life.

“You’re sure?” His voice was hushed, reverent, as if he feared speaking too loudly might shatter the moment.

She cupped his cheek. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

That was all he needed.

Colin kissed her—deep, slow, unhurried—as if memorizing the very taste of her. His hands mapped her body, tracing the curve of her waist, the smooth expanse of her back, pulling her closer, needing to feel every inch of her against him. She sighed into his mouth, her fingers threading through his hair, tugging him even closer.

Each layer of clothing that fell away only heightened the intimacy, the sheer vulnerability of it all. He took his time, worshipping her with his hands, his mouth, his words. He spoke her name like a prayer, savoring the way she responded to his every touch, every whisper. Penelope wasn’t shy, not with him. She touched him just as boldly, her fingertips learning the planes of his back, the ridges of his shoulders. She gasped when he pressed a kiss to her collarbone, then lower, his lips brushing reverently over every place he’d dreamed of kissing before.

When they finally came together, it was slow, almost unbearably so. He guided her gently, watching her, reading her, ensuring she was with him in every moment. She was. They moved in perfect harmony, every sigh, every shudder, every whispered name filling the space between them.

Colin had known passion before, desire. But this—this was something else entirely. It was Penelope, the woman he loved beyond words.

And when they finally reached that crescendo together, he held her close, his forehead resting against hers, their breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath. “I love you, you know that, Pen?” He said, his voice hoarse with emotion.

Penelope smiled, her fingers tracing lazy patterns over his bare shoulder. “I love you more.”

He huffed a soft laugh, pressing a kiss to her temple. “That's impossible.”

She only nestled closer, and Colin knew—with absolute certainty—that there would never be another moment, another night, another love quite like this. And he would spend forever making sure she knew it.

[Colin's room]

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft golden hue over the room. The sheets were tangled around their bodies, remnants of the night before, and Colin had never felt more content. Penelope lay beside him, her back pressed against his chest. Her hair smelled of lavender and something distinctly her, and he buried his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply.

“Mmm,” she hummed, tilting her head slightly to give him better access. “Are you awake, my love?”

"I’ve been awake. Just enjoying the view.”

She turned in his arms, her eyes still heavy with sleep, but a small smile played on her lips. “The view being…?”

“You, of course. My gorgeous fiancée, in my bed, looking entirely too tempting for me to be a decent man.”

The blush on her cheeks betrayed her. “We were supposed to get up an hour ago.”

Colin made a show of groaning dramatically, pulling her tighter against him. “Why would we do something so foolish when we could stay right here? I have everything I need.”

“Colin."

“What?”

Instead of arguing, she leaned in and kissed him—soft and unhurried, as if savoring the moment. Colin sighed into her mouth, deepening the kiss, his fingers trailing lazily up her spine. What was supposed to be a brief, innocent kiss quickly turned into something more when Penelope shifted slightly, pressing against him in just the right way.

Colin groaned, rolling and taking her with him, his hands steady on her hips. “You’re playing with fire, sweetheart.”

She rested her hands on his chest. “Maybe, I like a little fire.”

He laughed, flipping her beneath him in one swift motion, eliciting a surprised gasp from her. His lips found hers again, slower this time. Hours passed like that—lazily tangled together, kissing, teasing, rediscovering each other.

At some point, Penelope managed to untangle herself from him long enough to slip on his shirt, which drowned her frame. She was standing by his bookshelf, when she felt Colin’s arms wrap around her from behind. “You do realize that’s never going to fit you properly,” he spoke against her ear, his chin resting on her shoulder.

“I think it suits me just fine,” she countered, grinning as she turned in his embrace. “Besides, you’re not getting it back.”

“I suppose it’s a fair price to pay for a day spent in bed with my future.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Has it been a day? Why does it feel like time passes by so quickly when we're together.”

He scooped her up effortlessly, carrying her back toward the bed. “I know, but you know what?"

"What?"

"We can take it nice and slow, to savor it."

Penelope giggled as he dropped her onto the mattress and crawled on top of her.

As the sun moved across the sky, neither of them made a single effort to leave the warmth of each other. After all, there was nowhere else they’d rather be.

[Penelope's room]

Colin sat across her bed, his shirt unbuttoned, one arm tucked lazily behind his head as he watched Penelope fuss over something at her desk. She was in her robe—a sight that drove him absolutely mad. Not because she wasn’t beautiful in it, but because she wasn’t in his clothes.

“Why aren’t you wearing my shirt?” he mused, tilting his head.

She glanced over her shoulder, smirking. “Because you're wearing it? And also because we’re in my house, silly.”

“For a moment there, I forgot.”

She turned back to her desk, her fingers absently smoothing over the fabric of her robe. “Besides, I like this robe. Even if it’s a little worn out, it’s still soft and fluffy.” She hugged it closer while she took a few steps toward him. “And it keeps me warm at night better than your shirts. Those are a tad too thin for my liking.”

Colin scoffed, pushing himself up onto his elbows. “Darling, robes can easily be discarded. You do know that, right?”

Before she could reply, he reached for her, tugging her until his arms curled securely around her waist. His lips found the curve of her shoulder, pressing slow, lazy kisses against her skin. “Colin,” she sighed, shivering under his touch. “We haven’t even done anything today.”

He hummed, nuzzling against her. “We went downstairs for tea. That counts.”

She rolled her eyes. “For ten minutes before you dragged me back up here.” She paused, shaking her head. “If my family were home, I swear—”

“But they aren’t,” he pointed out smugly. “Not my fault they all left for that party and abandoned us.”

“They left because I begged for some time to work,” she reminded him.

“And did you work?”

She huffed, swatting his arm. “I was going to.”

“Mmm. I think you worked on me instead, Miss Featherington.” He grinned.

She laughed softly, finally allowing herself to relax against him, her palm resting over his heartbeat—steady, strong, comforting. There was something about Colin in these quiet moments, when he wasn’t the life of the party, wasn’t making the world laugh. Just here, with her. Loving her in the way only he could.

“You’re staring again,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, eyes twinkling. "Do you like what you see?"

She smiled. “I was just thinking of something.”

“A dangerous habit.”

She smacked his chest lightly, making him chuckle. “I was thinking about how easy this is with you.”

The teasing left his face, replaced by something softer. He kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose and a light brush against her lips. “It’s always been easy, sweetheart. That’s why it’s us.”

Her heart swelled at his words, and without hesitation, she leaned in, capturing his lips in a slow, lingering kiss. Colin sighed into her mouth, deepening it, his hands sliding up her robe and around her waist until she was pinned beneath him. For a while, they simply stayed like that—kissing, touching, savoring each other without urgency. No rush, no pressure. Just them. The outside world didn’t matter.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless and flushed, Colin grinned down at her. “I think we should spend all our days like this.”

Penelope laughed. “We have lives to live outside the bedroom, Col.”

“I know. But it’s more fun here with you.”

She traced her fingers through his hair, her lips quirking. “Is it?”

“Is it not?” He pressed a kiss to the base of her neck, as if to convince her otherwise. He began peppering her neck and shoulder with little kisses.

Penelope let out a breathy laugh. “You make a very compelling argument, Mister Bridgerton.”

The evening had settled into a quiet lull. Considering they were still alone at the estate, Penelope suddenly had a brilliant beyond brilliant suggestion. “You know,” she spoke, propping herself up on one elbow, “I could use a swim right now.”

Colin cracked an eye open, amused. “A swim? At this hour?” He looked at the clock. It was about half past eleven, in the evening.

“Are you afraid of a little adventure, Bridgerton?”

He scoffed. “Hardly. But I’d wager your idea of a swim involves more than just cooling off.”

Penelope gave him an exaggeratedly innocent look. “I don’t know what you’re implying, sir.”

Colin narrowed his eyes before reaching out to tickle her waist, making her squeal. “Liar,” he accused, laughing as she tried to wriggle away. "If you want something, just say it."

“Fine! Fancy a little skinny dip?” she admitted breathlessly, eyes dancing with mischief.

That got his attention. Colin blinked, then let out a low whistle. “Well, well, well."

“So, would you be interested or not?” Of course, Colin Bridgerton didn’t need to be asked twice.

[Poolside]

The Featherington pool shimmered under the moonlight, its clear waters casting soft, rippling reflections against the stone edges. It was utterly quiet—just them, the warm night, and the cool, inviting water. Colin turned to her expectantly. “Well? Let’s see this bold Penelope Featherington in action.”

“Fine.”

Without hesitation, she slipped her night dress over her head, the fabric pooling at her feet. The moonlight highlighted every curve, and she had the distinct satisfaction of watching Colin—usually so confident—visibly swallow, his gaze darkening.

Penelope let out a laugh before stepping to the edge of the pool and dipping a toe in. The water was deliciously cool against her heated skin. “Are you just going to stand there gaping, or are you joining me?”

Colin snapped out of it, shoving down his boxers and stepping in after her. “Oh, I’m definitely joining.”

The water embraced them as they waded in. Penelope floated on her back for a moment, letting the water soothe her, before glancing over at Colin. He was watching her—devouring her with his eyes, more focused on her than the water itself. “You’re not even swimming,” she teased.

He drifted closer, his hands finding her waist under the water. “I’m rather enjoying the view.”

“Well, you should know—this view bites.”

Before he could react, she splashed him, sending a small wave of water straight to his face. Colin sputtered, blinking. “Oh, you’re in trouble now.”

She gasped as Colin’s hands slid lower, gripping her thighs and hoisting her up effortlessly. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his bare waist, her body molding against his. The cool night air contrasted the heat radiating between them, sending a shiver down her spine.

Colin’s lips found her throat, his kisses slow and deliberate, as if savoring every inch of her. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” his voice thick with desire. His hands roamed her back, pressing her even closer until there was nothing between them but the teasing movement of the water. "This is probably one of the hottest things I've ever done."

"Swimming naked in a pool?" Penelope dug her fingers into his shoulders, tilting her head back as his mouth traced a path lower, his teeth grazing sensitive skin, making her breath hitch. “Colin…” she whispered, a plea, a demand.

"I'm gonna fuck you here. Right now, Penelope." He lifted his head, their eyes locking in the dim glow of the moon. A slow, knowing smile curved his lips before he dipped his hand beneath the water, his fingers sliding between her thighs. "But first, how's that, feel?" Her gasp turned into a whimper, her grip on him tightening. “You like that, do you, Pen?” he whispered against her lips, teasing, fingers working her into a slow, unbearable frenzy. She could only nod, her breath coming in shallow pants, the world breaking as pleasure consumed her. The gentle lapping of the water around them mixed with the quiet, broken sounds spilling from her lips.

Colin groaned, pressing his forehead to hers. “It’s almost midnight, love.” his voice was rough with restraint. “We have.... to be.... quiet.”

"This... is... unfair." She tried to say—she really did—but the moment his fingers curled inside her just right, a soft, needy moan escaped her lips. "Ahhhh, I need you now, Col." He chuckled darkly, catching her mouth in a deep, searing kiss to swallow the sound.

“Beg for it,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her jaw as his fingers stilled, teasing her with the unbearable pause.

“Colin, please.” she whined, shifting against him, desperate for more. "I want you in me. Now."

His grip tightened. “Dammit. I like it when you beg.” His voice was wicked, sending a fresh wave of heat through her.

She was undone, trembling in his arms, completely his. When her moment built to its peak, he pulled back his fingers and guided his member against her core, filling the space between them, slowly. She clung to him like he was the only thing keeping her afloat. "Fuck me."

"Yeah?" He grinned. "Well, I am."

Penelope didn't even hear him one bit for what she heard was herself. Her moans, one after the other were deafening. "Col...Colin..."

"How's that, love? Huh? Can you feel me now?" He greedily pumped himself into her, in and out, hungrily unwilling to let the momentum stop.

She whimpered. "Harder."

His eyes looked determined, feeling her tighten around him, pulsating. The water around them soon felt warm, just like their flesh.

“Harder... faster, like you want me so bad...” she whispered breathlessly against his lips, her voice laced with pleasure.

"Pen... isn't this proof enough?" He gave her a grin before he let himself loose and finally spilled into her. 

"Just stay...in me." She tightened her grip on him, the same way her legs locked around his bottom. "Like...that..."

"Fuck." He lightly bit her neck until he realized how selfish he had been to miss out on her shining, glistening breasts that were now against his chest. "It ain't over yet."

"Really?"

"Yes. Really." He replied as he cleared his throat. "So, prepare yourself."

She smirked and he saw that. "Just so you know, I hope to keep it hush this time."

"We'll see about that."

As their night stretched in the water, filled with the gasps and muffled moans between them, it became clear that neither would be keeping that promise.

Chapter Text

[Some gown atelier]

"I don't even know how this happened," Penelope muttered as the dressmaker fussed over the hem of her gown.

She still wasn’t sure how she had ended up as one of Eloise’s bridesmaids. Was it out of sheer association? Or because she was now engaged to Colin? Either way, she had somehow been roped in, and here she was, standing on a pedestal, staring at her reflection in the mirror while Philippa and Prudence sipped champagne nearby, acting as if this were her own wedding gown fitting.

"Oh, Pen, you look like a bride already," Prudence sighed dramatically, swirling her glass.

"Please, I do not!"

"You absolutely do," Philippa agreed. Then, as if struck by divine inspiration, her eyes widened. "Oh! I have a brilliant beyond brilliant idea!"

Penelope groaned. That was never a good sign.

"Why not try on wedding gowns?" Philippa continued, clasping her hands together.

"How is that perfect?" Penelope shot back. "I am a bridesmaid, Pip."

"Yes, but you're also engaged to be married."

"Not anytime soon," she corrected.

"Please, would you just try on a few?" Philippa pleaded, grabbing her arm and shaking it slightly for emphasis. "It would be so fun!"

Prudence nodded eagerly. "Think of it as... preparation!"

"For what? My inevitable descent into madness?"

Philippa pouted. "Come on, Pen. Just humor us."

Penelope exhaled, already knowing she was going to lose this battle. "Fine. Three. Just three, and then we leave it at that."

"Three is plenty!" Philippa cheered. "Oh, this is going to be delightful."

And so, before she could fully comprehend how she had gotten here, Penelope found herself in an actual wedding gown. The first one was all lace, delicate and ethereal, with sheer sleeves that made her look very much like a bride. Too much, in her opinion.

"Oh, that’s diviiiiiine," Prudence gasped.

"It makes her look innocent," Philippa added.

"What do you mean? I am innocent!" Penelope scoffed.

Philippa and Prudence exchanged a look before bursting into laughter. "Yeah right!"

The second dress was a structured satin gown with a dramatic skirt. Penelope turned slightly in the mirror, appreciating the craftsmanship, until Philippa sighed loudly. "It’s beautiful, but it’s also not you."

Prudence nodded solemnly. "You need something a little more..." She twirled her finger in the air. "Romantic. Maybe something with a corset. To lift those beauties." She was clearly referring to her beloved breasts. 

Penelope rolled her eyes but let them pick a third dress. This one was a perfect balance—lace and satin, fitted at the waist, with delicate floral embroidery. As soon as she stepped onto the platform, the room went silent.

"Oh my lord," Philippa whispered. "That’s the one. How do you feel wearing it, Penny?"

"I mean, I do look nice." She said while glancing at her reflection on the full length mirror.

Just then, Philippa gasped again and grabbed her champagne flute. "You know what, we need Andrew's opinion. Where's that man when we need him?"

Before Penelope could protest, Philippa was already dialing.

Minutes later, Andrew’s voice rang through the shop. "Hold on—why am I choosing?"

"You're choosing for the future, of course!" Philippa declared.

Andrew scoffed. "Before I say anything, please know that I am offended that no one has invited me to this fitting."

"This was a last-minute thing!" Penelope said, exasperated. "We came to see Pen's bridesmaid's dress."

"And yet, all of a sudden, I'm supposed to make a very important decision," Andrew pointed out, rolling his eyes. "Alright, let me see them. Twirl around every time, Penelope."

And just like that, the youngest Featherington paraded once again in front of her sisters and Andrew, the entire ordeal spiraling further out of her control. And again, when she caught sight of her reflection in that last dress, something flickered inside her. A quiet little thrill. Not yet, but one day. And maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

[Colin's townhouse]

“This game is tearing us apart,” Andrew announced dramatically, glaring at the +4 card Marina just laid on him.

“Sorry,” she said sweetly, sipping her drink. “War is war.”

Penelope giggled, curling closer to Colin on the couch. “She warned you before we started. Marina plays to win.”

“I thought she was joking!” Andrew whined.

“Oh, she never jokes about Uno,” Colin added, smirking.

Marina smiled, then glanced between the couples. “So, are we all still good with the switch for the wedding?”

Colin tilted his head. “You mean date-wise?”

“Yeah,” Andrew chimed in. “Originally, it was me with Pen, and you two, just to keep things simple and drama-free... back when Colin and Penelope were supposedly just friends.”

“And now?” Marina raised a brow.

Penelope blushed faintly. “Now it makes less sense, doesn’t it?”

“It makes no sense,” Colin said, tugging her closer. “I’m not watching you walk down the aisle on another man’s arm."

Marina smirked. “I’ll make sure Eloise knows.” As the laughter simmered down and the drinks mellowed the evening, she glanced at her watch. “Ohhh, I need to go. Thank you for a wonderful impromptu dinner and drinks, Col. My early shift tomorrow is my excuse to leave.”

Andrew stood as well, stretching. “Great. I can drop you off. You’re on the way anyway.”

Penelope perked up, setting her cards down. “Wait, I need to go too!”

Colin immediately placed a hand on her wrist. “Hold on. You’re leaving me? I haven’t even seen you all day.”

“But I have work, Colin,” she reasoned. “I have a big meeting at 8:30, which I'm leading. Very adult, very important.”

“Which is why I’ll take you home, instead.” he offered, eyes twinkling with mischief as he looked at Andrew. “Go ahead, guys. I’ll drop Pen off later.”

"Good night, lovebirds!" Andrew raised a brow knowingly but said nothing. Marina smirked and gave Penelope a little wink before heading out the door. "Stay safe, you two!"

“No, Andrew, waaaait!” Once the two were gone, Penelope turned to Colin, arms folded. “You’re not taking me home, are you?”

Colin widened his eyes in mock innocence. “What’s that? You don’t want to go home? You’d rather stay here with me?”

She sighed, exasperated but smiling. “Colin! This is serious."

"Penelope, I am serious as well!"

She sighed in defeat. “I will stay only—if—you set an alarm. A real one. Not one of those Colin-Bridgerton-wakes-up-when-he-wants types.”

“What time do you need to be awake?”

“Six o' clock sharp. I have to shower, get dressed, get coffee, survive the morning rush—”

“Babe,” he said, cupping her face. “Consider it done!” He kissed the corner of her mouth, smug. “Alarm’s already set. Now, let's cuddle.”

She rolled her eyes but let him pull her into his arms, her head resting against his chest, where the beat of his heart was steady and familiar. "I swear, Col if I’m late tomorrow, I’m not speaking to you for the rest of the day.”

“And I shall take full responsibility,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. “But don’t worry—you’ll wake up exactly when you need to. My kisses will make sure of it.”

[Crane-Bridgerton Wedding Reception]

Penelope stood with her bridesmaid bouquet still in hand, chatting with Marina and Hyacinth near the dessert table, her eyes scanning now and then for Colin. Everything about the day had gone beautifully—Eloise was a radiant bride, Phillip was an utterly smitten groom, and the atmosphere felt charmed.

Until the shouting began.

“PENELOPE!”

The name came slurred and loud, slicing through the music. Heads turned.

There, stumbling through the white linen-draped tables, was Alfred.

His shirt was wrinkled, his tie undone, and his cheeks red from alcohol and fury. A waiter tried to intercept him, but Alfred pushed past.

“I just need to talk to her!” he barked, nearly tripping over the edge of the dance floor. “Penelope Featherington, I am not leaving without you!”

The crowd stilled. Murmurs swept like a wave.

Penelope froze, her fingers tightening around her bouquet. Marina’s hand found hers immediately. “Oh no,” she whispered. “Oh no, no, no.”

Alfred's eyes landed on her. “There you are. There she is.” He staggered forward, pointing. “You think this,” he gestured around wildly, “all of this is real? You’re playing house with Colin bloody Bridgerton and pretending it’s forever?”

Before Penelope could speak, a figure stepped between them. Colin.

He didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t need to. “Leave.”

Alfred laughed bitterly. “Ah, and here comes the prince. The hero. What, you think just because you finally noticed her, you get to be the one who keeps her?”

Colin’s jaw tensed, but his tone stayed cold. “You’ve had too much to drink, and far too much nerve. You don’t belong here.”

“Oh, but I do!” Alfred shouted. “Because I’m the only one who’s ever truly known her. I was there before you. I saw her before you ever did. You ignored her. I didn’t.”

Colin didn’t flinch. “You saw her and still hurt her. That’s worse.”

The words cut like ice.

Penelope stepped forward then, gently brushing Colin’s arm, signaling she wanted to speak. “It’s alright, Col.” she said softly. Then she turned to Alfred, standing straighter, her voice calm but firm. “Alfred. This isn’t the place for you to do this.”

"Can we talk?" His eyes begged. His face begged. "I just want to get things off my chest."

Alfred stumbled toward her from across the path, his coat half-buttoned. He was clearly tipsy—no, more than that. His gait was uneven, his eyes glassy. He squinted as if the garden lamps were too bright, and when he spoke, the words came out muddled.

“Penelope,” he said softly, his tongue thick and breath unsteady. “Pen—I... uh. Thanks. For, um… seeing me. I know I’m not—I didn’t…” He trailed off, blinking hard as though trying to rearrange his thoughts like puzzle pieces that refused to fit.

“Just talk, Alfred,” Penelope said gently, not unkind. “That’s all this is.”

He sat beside her, careful to keep some distance between them. His hands trembled slightly as he clasped them, knuckles white. For a long moment, he just looked at the ground, trying to pull the words from wherever they’d been hiding. “I…know, I messed up. Back then. God, I was awful to you,” he finally said, his voice raw. “I cheated. Lied. Made you feel like… like it was your fault. But it wasn’t. It was me. I was the coward. I was the one who never measured up.” She didn’t interrupt. She didn’t nod or reassure him. She simply waited. Let him face the silence he’d earned. “I was selfish,” he went on, slower this time, steadier. “You loved me. You really did. And I took that love and tore it up. Because I didn’t think I deserved it—or maybe because I didn’t know how to hold it right. And then I blamed you. For my own failure.”

Penelope’s eyes stayed on the dark path in front of them. “You did throw it away,” she said, quiet but clear.

Alfred exhaled hard, like the words hit him right in the ribs. “I blew it. I know. I think I’ve always known.”

She turned to him then, her voice calm and even. “You broke something in me, Alfred. Not just my heart. My trust. My belief that I could ever be enough for someone. It took me years to put that back together.”

“I kept thinking maybe… maybe if I showed up, if I proved something, it could go back,” he said, his voice cracking. “But the moment I saw you years later, plus the way Colin looked at you, I—” He cut himself off, laughing bitterly. “I realized how stupid I was. To come back here. To think this would be any different.”

“It was never going to be different with you, Alfred. I hope you know that now.” Penelope said gently. “Because we already had our chance. Each time… you let me down.”

“And I don’t blame you anymore. I blame myself. I ruined it. I ruined us.”

"You know what we should do?" She looked at him for a long, quiet moment. "We should close the book and put it on the shelf."

“You were part of my story. But you’re not part of my ending.” He said.

"Exactly what I was thinking."

His shoulders slumped. He nodded slowly, taking in the weight of her words. “You deserve a good life, Pen,” he said hoarsely. “One where you never have to question for even a second how deeply you're loved.” He swallowed, blinking back emotion.

"We all deserve a love like that."

“You should know, I’m leaving London. End of the week. It’s time for me to go.”

Penelope stood, smoothing her coat, her heart full but calm. “Then, I wish you well.”

Alfred rose too. He didn’t reach for her hand. Didn’t ask for more. Just stood there, the quiet between them heavy and final.

“Goodbye, Penelope.”

“Goodbye, Alfred.”

She watched him go, the echo of his footsteps fading into the stillness of the night.

A few paces behind, half-hidden in shadow, Colin stood waiting. He hadn’t eavesdropped, not properly—just close enough to be near if she needed him.

When she reached him, he didn’t speak right away. He just opened his arms, and she walked into them without hesitation. “Hey,” he murmured against her hair. “You alright, love?”

"I need a hug." Penelope leaned into him, her cheek against his chest. She closed her eyes for a breath. Then, softly, she said, “It's all good now.” She pulled back enough to look up at him, a calm smile on her lips. “Everything’s good now." She said once more.

Colin searched her face, eyes lingering on hers. “You sure?”

She nodded. “Positive.”

He kissed her forehead, one hand brushing the hair from her face as they stood there. "To think, I was so ready to pounce at your ex!"

"I bet you were."

Chapter Text

[Featherington Estate]

It started like any other Sunday lunch. Loud chatter and Portia dramatically announcing that the tea was steeped exactly three seconds too long.

Colin was currently losing a staring contest with Prudence’s newly adopted cat, and Marina and Andrew were nestled suspiciously close on the couch.

Too close. Too… coordinated.

When their fingers brushed for the third time and Marina didn’t yank hers away, Penelope narrowed her eyes. “Okay,” she said slowly, setting her cup down. “Are you two going to explain whatever’s going on? Or are we all just going to pretend that Andrew hasn’t been smiling like someone in a cheesy rom-com?”

Andrew laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “We were trying to be subtle.”

“You're failing,” Colin said, smirking. “Horribly.”

Marina met Penelope’s gaze and shrugged, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. “Fine. You caught us.

"Caught you what?"

"Andrew and I. We’re dating.” Marina said.

“What?” Penelope gasped.

“You’re what?” Portia sputtered, blinking rapidly.

“ANDREW,” Prudence whispered, eyes wide with scandal.

Philippa, however, was delighted. “Oh! Oh! I knew there was a spark at last month's wedding! Didn’t I say something, Pru? I said it! Didn’t I say it?”

“No, Pip,” Prudence muttered. “You said something about hiding a scandal.”

“I meant romantic scandal.”

Meanwhile, Penelope was staring between her best friend and Marina like they’d just announced they were eloping. “When? How? Why—why didn’t you tell us?”

Andrew glanced at Marina, who gave him a little nod. “We’ve been seeing each other for a few weeks now,” he said. “It kind of snuck up on us.”

“It snuck up?!” Penelope repeated, utterly thrown.

Colin leaned in with a half-laugh. “And I thought we shared all our secrets, Marina.”

Marina gave him a pointed look. “Wow. That’s coming from you? HA!”

Colin held up both hands in surrender. “Fair enough.”

Andrew grinned. “Anyway, now that it’s out in the open... we didn’t exactly plan to keep it a secret, we just… weren’t ready everyone.”

“You think now's the time?” Portia asked, brows raised so high they nearly reached her hairline.

“Well, it’s not exactly the scandal of the year,” Marina said with a light shrug.

“I’ll say,” Philippa chimed in. “You two actually look good together.”

Prudence tilted her head, frowning. “Weirdly… yes. Ugh. I hate when Philippa’s right.”

Philippa beamed. “That’s twice this year!”

Andrew laughed, but Penelope and Colin still hadn’t recovered. They were sitting side by side, mouths slightly parted, blinking at their respective best friends.

“I need a word,” Penelope said finally, pointing at Marina.

“Same,” Colin added, gesturing at Andrew.

Marina and Andrew exchanged a glance.

“Separately,” Penelope and Colin said at the same time.

“Right,” Marina said, standing.

“Okay,” Andrew sighed, also rising.

The rest of the Featherington ladies watched in fascinated silence as Penelope took Marina by the arm and led her toward the back garden, while Colin dragged Andrew by the shoulder in the opposite direction, toward the sitting room.

Philippa leaned forward, eyes wide. “Do you think they’re going to interrogate them?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Prudence replied, sipping her tea. “But in the nicest, most emotionally devastating way possible.”

Portia sighed, fanning herself with a napkin. “Why can’t we just have one peaceful Sunday?”

Philippa giggled. “Because love makes everything chaotic, Mother.”

[Garden]

Penelope stopped pacing only to dramatically plant both hands on her hips. “This is crazy, Marina. Capital C, all caps CRAZY. I mean, Andrew? Really??”

Marina, seated serenely on the weathered garden bench. “You say his name like it’s a disease.”

“It’s not a disease, it’s just—” Penelope threw up her arms. “He’s... he’s the guy who once ghosted a girl because she made him watch a period drama.”

Marina’s smile tugged wider. “To be fair, he did say it was a two-hour pilot.”

“You’re deflecting. Marina, you don’t even like chaos. You organize your books alphabetically. You meal prep. You’re stable. And Andrew is… not.”

“Maybe I’ve changed. Or maybe you’ve just underestimated him.”

Penelope blinked at her. “I’m not underestimating him—I know him. I grew up with him. I’ve seen his dating history, and let me tell you, it reads like a tabloid's cautionary tale.”

“And yet,” Marina said, voice calm, “he’s been nothing but lovely to me.”

Penelope frowned, not out of anger—just concern. “When did this even start?”

“I didn’t know anything,” Marina replied. “Not at first. We’d talk here and there. Then he started dropping by my office, my flat. And suddenly… I looked forward to seeing him. He made me laugh. He started showing up for me in ways I didn’t expect. No games, just… gentle surprises.”

“So, what, now you’re just—together?”

“We’re dating, Pen.” Marina said firmly. “That’s it. We’re taking it slow.”

“Does he know that?”

Marina laughed. “Penelope, relax. It’s not marriage. We’re not eloping. We’re just… enjoying it. And I like him. Genuinely.”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.” She reasoned. "Even if he is my best friend. I can still call him out, you know. I can still warn the ladies about him."

Marina gently took her hand. “I know you’re looking out for me. But Andrew’s not the same man he was a year ago. Maybe people do change.”

Penelope studied her, lips pursed, her expression slowly softening. “Well… regardless. You’re still completely insane for saying yes to him.”

“Feelings are involved, Pen. Of course it’s crazy. You know that better than anyone.”

Penelope squeezed her hand. “Unfortunately… I’m very familiar.”

[Sitting room]

Colin shut the door behind them and gave Andrew a look so heavy. “You and Marina?” He didn’t laugh. “You didn’t think you should tell me beforehand? She’s my best friend.”

“I know,” Andrew said, his voice measured. “That’s why I didn’t want to bring it up until I was sure it wasn’t just some passing thing.”

Colin paced a few steps, then turned sharply. “But you do have a history of… passing things. Pen told me of your dating history.”

“You’re not wrong. I’ve been… inconsistent. And I’ve hurt people. But I’ve also done a lot of growing up this year. I’m not trying to charm Marina or coast on something shallow. I see her. And I care about her.”

Colin studied him for a long moment. “So why her?”

Andrew didn’t even hesitate. “Because she’s not like anyone I’ve ever met. She calls me out on my nonsense."

Colin let out a low whistle. “Wow. You are in deep.”

“I really do like her. And I’m not going to let myself screw it up.”

“Good,” Colin said, folding his arms. “Because if you do, remember I memorize your address.”

“Fair enough. Beat me up if I mess this up. You have my blessing, Bridgerton.”

Colin let the moment hang, then let out a small, reluctant smile. “Uh, huh. Sure, I won’t hesitate.”

Andrew laughed, then grew serious again. “But, you know… I think I’d have to say the same about you.”

Colin raised a brow. “Oh?”

“You cause Pen pain—and expect the same treatment.”

Colin went still. His jaw tightened—but he didn’t flinch. “Agreed.”

“She’s like my sister, you know,” Andrew added.

“And she is my everything,” Colin said quietly.

A long pause.

Then Andrew nodded. “Then we’re square.”

Colin reached out and clapped his shoulder. “Don’t mess it up.”

“You either.”

They shared a quiet look—the kind shared by two men who knew what it meant to be reckless and how rare it was to find someone worth getting it right for.

Andrew flopped back onto the arm of the armchair, arms crossed and eyes narrowed with a little smirk. “So,” he drawled, “you’ve grilled me about Marina. Now, it’s my turn.”

Colin raised a brow. “What's there to grill me about?" He paused, then realized something. "Oh no.”

“Oh yes.” Andrew leaned in toward Colin with a mischievous grin. “Are you really stretching this engagement? That’s not very on-brand for you two.”

“We’ve only been engaged a few months!”

“And it’s felt like years,” Andrew shot back. “Come on, Colin. I’m just saying—where’s the bold, romantic impulsivity you’re famous for?”

“Funnily enough,” he said, “I was just about to ask for your advice on how to expedite it.”

Andrew arched a brow, intrigued. “You want my advice? I wasn't sure you wanted it.”

“Well, I trust your judgment,” Colin said. "Especially when it comes to Penelope."

Andrew smirked. “So here it is: I dare you to marry her, today.” His eyes twinkled. “Do it. Let’s end the ‘almost’ era and enter the ‘forever’ chapter already. Everyone's been impatient, you know.”

Just then, a voice rang out from behind them.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN?” Penelope stood in the doorway, frozen mid-step and eyes wide.

"What's going on? Whose almost era are we ending?" Marina added.

Colin turned slowly to face Penelope, lips twitching into a smile. “Pen, I didn't, I didn't think you'd be here."

"What's going on?" She asked. 

"What do you think about Andrew's suggestion?” Colin asked, stepping toward her.

"What is Andrew's suggestion?" Prudence head popped out of nowhere, followed by Philippa and their Mother.

Colin cleared his throat. “Well, now that everyone's here... I was just about to ask Penelope: Do we really want to extend the engagement? Or should we listen to the way we feel—right at this moment?”

Penelope blinked, glancing at the room full of expectant faces. Her mother, her sisters, even Andrew looked unusually hopeful. Her gaze returned to Colin. Then, she sighed. Loudly. “You’re really impossible.”

"So, what do you think?"

“Oh don't be so coy, Penny. You already have the dress, remember?” Prudence reminded her sister. 

Penelope shook her head, a grin breaking across her face. She had bought a gown—on a whim, just in case. "Right."

"You've bought a wedding dress?" It was Colin's turn to look a bit taken back.

Penelope nodded. "Fine. Let’s be ridiculous, tonight.”

Philippa shrieked and clapped like it was the season finale of her favorite drama. “YAAAYYYY! Albion’s going to be so surprised when he gets back from the coffee shop!”

“Consider it done. Tonight.” Colin’s smile widened as he looked at his fiancée—his impromptu bride.

Penelope nodded, breathless, eyes locked with his. “Yes, please. Before I change my mind.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness!” Portia gasped, already dabbing at her eyes with a floral napkin. “Are we truly having an impromptu wedding this evening? Oh, I must call Violet. She’ll never forgive me if she misses this!” Soon, Portia had Violet Bridgerton on her phone, perked up and all ready.

Prudence was halfway up the stairs yelling something about veils and backup shoes at Philippa. Marina also had her phone out, speed-texting the church minister with terrifying efficiency. Andrew looked like he was about to crown himself best man right then and there. “It’s happening, people! I can’t believe it’s actually happening!” Laughter, hurried footsteps, squeals, and the distant crash of a decorative vase filled the air.

But in the center of it all—Colin and Penelope stood still.

She looked up at him, cheeks flushed, heart tumbling in her chest. “You’re really sure about this? Because I don’t think there’ll be time to back out anymore.”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” Colin gently lifted her hand to his lips. “Let’s write the rest of our story, Pen—starting tonight, soon-to-be Mrs. Penelope Bridgerton.”

"I can't wait." She replied, giddy, excited, thrilled.

It had all started as a mess—a whirlwind of secrets, unspoken feelings, and emotional near-misses.

And what a mess they were still in now. Spontaneous. Loud. Unhinged.

Thank goodness—it was theirs. Entirely, unmistakably theirs.