Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Benedict ran his fingers through his chestnut brown hair as he leaned wearily against the bar tapping his whisky glass. Across from him his now aggravated older brother Anthony was having a heated discussion with his wife Kate, and by the looks of it getting more and more turned on by the minute. Benedict, and all of his other six siblings, knew by now that this was some depraved kind of foreplay and he didn’t want to be here when it inevitably escalated. But he couldn’t leave…because  tonight they were celebrating their sister Eloise's engagement to Phillip. 

The conservatory at Annabel’s, a private members club in Mayfair, was a beautiful venue but it was now cast in neon lights and music was blasting through the speakers, way louder than what should be considered healthy for the human ear. Benedict couldn't fathom why they had turned the place into some fancy nightclub. He had rather seen that they had kept it as it was during the dinner with candlelights and lounge music, creating a much more enjoyable atmosphere. As if the changes weren't enough, the increased heat of the room now made him curse himself for his choice of clothing for the evening — black turtleneck and black jeans. It was a classic look, one he often wore, but right now the sweater clinged to him like a second skin. This was hell.

Normally, he wouldn’t have minded but he was too tired after a long day, and if he was being honest, the last couple of days had been an endless battle. Two days ago, a painting had gone missing at his gallery, only finding its way back after he had asked one of the young apprentices if he had seen it when he helped set up the exhibit. Yesterday he had been yelled at, without reason, by a woman at the coffee shop near his gallary, which led to him zoning out on the tube and therefore missing his stop. Like that wasn’t enough he had miscalculated how much it rained therefore being soaked within minutes walking the last few blocks home. To add to his misery, the only person he wanted to be here with tonight wasn’t as she was still stuck in Edinburgh. Instead he now found himself desperately trying to put a distance between himself and one Abigail Godfrey. She was an objectively beautiful blonde woman but with a personality deep as a puddle, that his mother had invited behind his back as his plus one. 

About three weeks ago his mother, Violet, had approached him with her intent as she was tired of seeing her second son without anyone by his side. Benedict had argued that he wouldn’t even entertain the idea and he had several valid reasons. Much to his chagrin he had not been able to disclose the main one as they had agreed to wait a little while longer to go public. He had hoped that the heated discussion had been enough to deter his mother, but he should have known that he wouldn’t be able to refuse the stubborn Violet Bridgerton. Benedict knew that his mother could be meddlesome and while this definitely wasn’t the first time she had tried to “help” him — to him it felt like his own capabilities to manage his own life were questioned.

For the evening Violet had rented out the entire venue of Annabel’s so she could present the newly engaged couple to polite society. Eloise had of course tried to shut the whole spectacle down since as she put it ”it only serves as an opportunity to flaunt the family’s wealth.” She wasn’t wrong about that as their mother seemed to have invited half of London's socialites, among them the Godfreys — an old noble family like their own. Benedict had conveniently found himself seated next to their eldest daughter Abigail, who had filled him in on how excited she had been for, as she called it, their date. ”This will be a long evening,” he had muttered to himself behind his napkin.

Abigail had on multiple occasions tried to take pictures with him, preferably with them sitting as close as possible — at one point she had almost dragged one of the photographers to their table. As the evening progressed Benedict had politely dismissed her several times, she seemed to only have taken that as a challenge. Now as he took a sip of his whisky, Abigail was talking animatedly beside him about how they had met a couple of times before at some charity events and that they had so much in common — she had visited the Louvre in Paris once and had apparently loved seeing the Mona Lisa.

“It was such a pretty drawing. Leonardo Dicaprio is such a talented actor. I didn’t know he could draw as well.”

“Leonardo Da Vinci is the one that painted the Mona Lisa.” Benedict corrected, rolling his eyes in exasperation. 

“What?”

“You said Leonardo Dicaprio is the artist behind the Mona Lisa, which is wrong as it was Leonardo Da Vinci. And to my knowledge Dicaprio doesn’t paint, he had an impressive art collection that unfortunately was destroyed in 2017. But first and foremost he is an actor.”

“Aren’t they the same person?”

“Then he must be a vampire.”

“What do you mean?”

“Da Vinci was born 1452 so if he is the same person as Dicaprio he must be a vampire because he would be 573 years old.”

“Oh, an honest mistake.”

“No, it’s not.” Benedict muttered under his breath and took another sip of his whisky, all while he was looking at his older brother who now seemed to be about one clever retort away from starting to salivate. 

So yes, Benedict Bridgerton was literally in hell. 

He regretted not going with his original plan to skip this part of the night – claiming old age just like his mother had done as he couldn’t very well use his sister Daphne's reason of being in her third trimester. However, he had been reminded about the fact that Eloise was his favorite sister, even if she right now was on a free fall for her choice of entertainment — an overenthusiastic new age DJ that seemed to think that he was the best thing since sliced bread. He reminded him a little of Gregory. 

“Ben, Ben, Benny…Ben?” His youngest sister Hyacinth came bouncing up to him talking a mile a minute. “Did you hear that Penelope is moving back to London?”

Before he could get a word out in response Abigail's shrill voice chimed:

”Who’s Penelope?”

”She's a close family friend, almost like a sister to us,” Hyacinth's implication that Penelope would be like his sister made him wince because to him she was anything but a sister.  

Penelope Featherington had been Eloise and Colin’s best friend since childhood, always at the Bridgerton house and she had spent more or less every holiday with them growing up. Unlike his younger siblings, Benedict hadn’t had a particularly close relationship with the redheaded girl during these years. This stemmed from the fact that he was nearly a decade older and that he had more or less lived on a train during his university years as he had commuted between London and Cambridge — something he still hadn’t fully forgiven his older brother and, to some extent, his mother for. 

As adults they had naturally run in different circles and after Penelope graduated she had moved to Edinburgh. Since then he had only met her a couple of times a year at family gatherings. That held true until one rainy day in September last year when Benedict had received a message from her asking for his input on an article she was writing about the art’s influence on politics. As an artist himself, he had gladly leaped into a discussion with her, sharing his views on how art can set the tone for political issues and how artists historically have been persecuted due to their creative works' political implications.

They had kept in touch after that and as time went on occasional texts evolved into late night phone calls — he inwardly cursed himself for not getting to know her sooner. And about a month in, Benedict realized that it no longer was enough, he not only wanted but needed to see her. That is how he found himself booking a ticket to Edinburgh, the very next day. Their relationship had progressed quickly from there. 

”So she’s moving back to London, good for her,” Benedict said to Hyacinth trying to sound nonchalant, all while gripping his glass a little tighter. He knew, of course, he was, besides her new job at Danbury Publications, the main reason for her moving back home. Not that anyone else knew about that…yet. They would soon enough as it would be hard to hide the fact that they would be living together. 

Hyacinth was overly enthusiastic and was barely breathing between the words coming out of her mouth: “Yes, it is. Oh she’s going to be here tonight. She is late. I wonder why? She…she will be here though…I’m so excited. I haven’t talked to her since her last visit. I follow her on Instagram of course but that is not the same thing. Oh oh did you know…?” 

He put a hand on Hyacinth's shoulder. “Hy, breathe please before you topple over.” An advice he himself should listen to because his heart had started to hammer hard in his chest and, even though the music was loud, he could hear his own pulse.

“I am breathing perfectly fine actually, see nff…ahh…nff…ahh…”

Benedict shook his head, as he observed his family, and contemplated, not for the first time, if he had been adopted as a child because he could not be related to any of his so-called siblings. Between Hyacinth's breathing exercises, Anthony's lack of normal flirting skills, Colin now telling the tale of his latest travels for the hundredth time as if it wasn’t enough that he was going to publish it in his first book, and Gregory on the dance floor trying to show of some new moves to impress a small crowd of young women, Benedict couldn’t understand why his parents hadn’t stopped after two kids. He loved them all dearly though, especially Franscasca at the moment as she was the only one behaving like she was in possession of the Bridgerton Brain Cell. 

......... 

Art was what had brought them together. The connection between the written word and the artistic is clear because regardless of medium – paintings, sculptures, interactive exhibitions or books – they all tell a story. During Penelope’s university years, she had taken some art history classes in parallel with her journalism and English literature studies. She had wanted to dive deeper into the artistic world and as a writer she had felt the need to be able to describe what she saw before her and to do that she needed to know how to interpret art. When she had received an assignment to write an article at her job as a columnist at one of Scotland's largest publications, she had known right away that she wanted another perspective besides her own. An artist that had stirred the political climate with his provocative work, which had made some people question what counted as art and if there should be more limitations to creative freedom.

The choice of whom to contact had been easy. Benedict Bridgerton had always been a little of an enigma. He was bubbly and extroverted in a way but he rarely let anyone in to see him – the real him. Through his paintings it was easy though as they all bared his soul. In every line and color compositions he put on the canvases his joy, his passion, his grief, and his pain were visible and ever present. She had found that she could almost drown if she stared too long at one of his works. 

Penelope had been to several of his exhibitions and she even had one of his paintings – The Blue Star – hanging in her apartment. Every brushstroke was deliberate, every color change perfectly executed, the depth and meaning was clear – it was her under a starry sky at Aubrey Hall. He had gifted it to her at her graduation and on the back he had written in his loopy handwriting: 

“To the girl that has made every blue night shine like the fires of her hair and with the sparkles in her eyes made it glitter like stars in the sky.” 

She had sent a message to him one rainy day and within a couple of minutes he had called her. They spent the next three hours just talking, not just about her work but reminiscing their shared history. It had been eye-opening because Penelope had realized how much they really had in common but the voices in her head had told her that this was a one time thing. Benedict had always only been Eloise and Colin’s older brother and why ever would he ever want to reach out to her ever again — her mother’s words had echoed ”Penelope, darling, you are as bland as oatmeal with an intellect of a jellyfish.” That one text to her surprise quickly developed into daily check-ins and soon they had started having long nightly phone calls. 

In mid-October Benedict had come to visit her in Edinburgh. Both Eloise and Colin had done so before, already familiar but with Benedict it had been different. He stayed at a hotel near her apartment and when he showed up at her doorstep that first night he had brought a bundle of pink peonies — her absolute favorite flower. The fact he had remembered that day, almost 20 years ago when she had told him how much she loved seeing the peonies in bloom at Aubrey Hall, had stunned her.  

They had spent the first week walking the city, visited The King's Gallery, watched movies and simply talked — learning about each other. One evening they had sat in her worn-down couch with blankets around their shoulders drinking tea, candles illuminating the room, filling it with ambient light, and soft music playing in the background. Benedict had reached for her hand and with a solemn expression whispered:

”Father always loved the fall the most. He used to take me and Ant, to a bonfire near Aubrey Hall each year. The year before he passed it was Colin’s first time going. He was so excited to finally be old enough to come with us.”

Penelope had held his hand tightly, stroking the back with her fingers. A deep sigh had ripped through his chest at that moment.

“As children we think that our parents are immortal and that they will be there for us. When he got sick he promised me that he would never leave, that he would fight but that was a lie. He did leave.” 

“He didn’t want to leave.”

“No, he didn’t but he did.” Benedict had a slight resentment in his tone. “We were left to fend for ourselves. Mother disappeared into her melancholy while Ant and I had to take care of everyone else.”

The Bridgertons had always been a close-knit family but when their father, Edmund Bridgerton, had passed away after a year battling pancreatic cancer it had almost destroyed them. Penelope had seen what his death had done to the whole family firsthand. The first year had been so quiet. Eloise had more or less stopped talking; she wanted to be left all alone and immersed herself in her books. Colin, he was more lost than he had ever been. During the two years Penelope had known Colin, he had always felt like he didn’t fit in anywhere and that even if he was close with his family they didn’t fully understand him. This is why Penelope hadn’t been surprised that he had left the day after his 18th birthday. He had needed to find himself, to travel and stand on his own two feet.

Violet had become a shell of her former self and she more or less locked herself away for about two years, which in turn had forced Anthony and Benedict to grow up fast. As the heir, Anthony took on the mantle of managing the Bridgerton estate and stepped into the role of CEO of Bridgerton Corp, all while studying at Oxford. Benedict had taken over all the responsibilities regarding the care of his younger siblings, he saw to it that they all were fed and had clean clothes, helped with homework and patched up scarped knees and mended broken hearts. During this time he stopped painting altogether, his study in the Bridgerton House had been locked and left empty. Both Anthony and Benedict had pushed aside their own grief and had put a pause on their own lives. 

“Did you know that I was supposed to move to Paris that fall?” Benedict had looked at her then with such a forlorn expression that it almost broke her.

“No, I didn’t.”

“I was accepted to the Beaux-Arts de Paris for a year. Everything was planned and I had been looking forward to it for months. I would have gotten to meet people with the same ambitions and aspirations as me,” he had paused, taking a deep breath. “Father had assured me that it was okay for me to go even if he was sick. He always was my biggest supporter, taking me to galleries, buying all the art supplies that I needed…then he died,” a harsh sob sounded from him. “I cancelled everything, of course, I wanted to be with my family. Paris could wait.”

She had embraced him then, held him while he let it all out. Grief is personal but it’s always connected to love, they are forever intertwined. When we lose love, we grieve. Penelope’s own father, Archibald Featherington, had passed away when she was 17 years old. Her grief had been different in comparison to what she had experienced after Edmund’s passing. It had been cold and unattached. She had loved her father in some way but his neglect had created a deep scar in her heart and his memory haunted her. With Edmund, it had been like someone had dragged out her very soul and squeezed out every drop of hope in her body, and even now it was to some extent ever present. Edmund had died two years after Penelope had become a standing fixture in the Bridgerton home. He had always been nice to her and had never treated her any differently than his own children. 

“Every child is a gift and you, my little dove, are exactly that.”

My little dove is what he had always called her. He had shown her how a father really should act and that love wasn’t conditional. Penelope had only been eight years old when he passed and as she got older she tried to hold on to his memory and the love that he had given her. 

......... 

Penelope hated flying — airports were always crowded and people never seemed to know what personal space was. She couldn’t fathom how Colin could love this so much. Discovering new places and cultures, yes, but to get there you had to shove yourself in a small tube with seats not meant for humans — even if said human was only 5 feet tall. Maybe the fact that Colin always flew first class had something to do with it, but that was just a minor detail and not relevant in her hatred towards flying. 

Today she was extra irritable as she had been up since 5am trying to find another moving company that could pick up all of her things and transport them to London. The moment Penelope had received the invitation to Eloise’s engagement party she had known that she would be cutting it close. She was contractually bound by her employer up until a couple of days before the event and the chosen date for the celebration was special to the Bridgertons – the day Edmund had proposed to Violet 42 years ago. 

For weeks she had everything under control but that was only until the original movers had called her yesterday to inform that they would not be able to make it today as they had somehow managed to double book. She had called Benedict crying, he had — like the Disney prince that he is — offered to come up to Edinburgh and help her. For a couple of minutes she had considered it but this was his sister's — favorite sister at that — engagement and she also didn’t want to act like a damsel in distress. A miracle had happened though as the new movers had showed up at 11am and had, to her surprise, emptied her apartment within two hours. In a rush she had given the keys to the landlord and jumped in a cab to the airport where she had booked a ticket with the first available flight to London. 

At the airport she had texted Eloise:

Pen ✒️: I will make it! Got a flight at 7pm so will probably be there around 11pm.

El 🔥: OMG! Yes!! I will have someone to talk to that actually has more than half a brain. 

Pen✒️: El, you know that you will have your fiancé there?

El 🔥: Oh right, forgot about him.

El 🔥: Remember to just let the host know who you are, you’re on the list hun ❤️

Pen ✒️: ❤️❤️

Penelope had thought about texting Benedict as well but opted for a surprise instead. In truth, the following week would be full of surprises because it would no longer be possible to hide her relationship with Benedict. They hadn’t actually been very discreet but everyone was so immersed in their own lives that no one had seemed to notice. For months they had talked about how they wanted to tell everyone but it had never been the right time. Their first attempt had been just around Christmas of last year, but Anthony and Kate had announced that they were having their third child. In February they had tried again, as Penelope had been in London at the time, but before they got to it Colin had told everyone that he had struck a book deal and was going to publish a series of travel books. And then during Penelope's latest visit Eloise had gotten engaged. They had therefore decided that they would officially inform everyone after the engagement party but that they would no longer even try to hide it. 

She was a bit nervous as she didn’t know how everyone would react, especially Eloise. It had been quite cozy to be in their own bubble, but she wanted nothing more than to be able to show the world how much she loved Benedict and that Benedict loved her in return. She hoped that it would make her feel more at ease and that all the doubts in her head would disappear. Her mother’s voice still penetrated her mind from time to time even after years of therapy. 

“Penelope, it's best if you hear this from me. You should always aim low because you will never achieve anything of value. The world will not treat a girl like you nicely. You need to understand that I don’t want to be mean, I only want to save you from heartbreak. With your unfortunate appearance and mediocre intelligence, no one will ever spare you a second thought.”

The moment she landed she rushed to the restrooms where she hastily managed to make herself presentable — full face of makeup, perfectly curled hair, high heels, and her new black dress, which had cost her more than half her paycheck but was worth every penny as it fit her beautifully. More than a few people turned their heads when she emerged, making her smirk. As she finally sat in the cab she could feel all the stress of the day leaving her body, and she sent a message to Eloise, telling her that she was on her way. 

Penelope knew that she had missed the first part of the evening but she wasn’t all that disappointed about it as it would have been a grand affair, if she knew anything about Violet Bridgerton. In reality, none of the Bridgertons could ever do anything lowkey even if they tried. She was used to it though as she had grown up with them and had been to her fair share of Bridgerton events.  

Bridgerton House had been a safe haven for her during her childhood and well into her adolescence. She had met Colin when she had been playing at the park at six years old. The wind had blown off her yellow scarf and it had landed in the face of a young chestnut haired boy on a bicycle. She had been so scared that he would be angry at her for making him fall, but instead he laughed. Her mother had come running and scolded her harshly when she realized who the boy really was. It was widely known that her mother, Portia Featherington, was a cunning woman who wanted nothing more than to climb the ranks. And the Bridgertons were a family that you definitely shouldn’t offend in any way. Colin had brushed the whole thing off and asked Penelope to come and play with him and his siblings. When Eloise had met her that very same day, she had declared loudly to everyone around that Penelope from now on was her very best friend. 

For the first time in her short life Penelope had found people that cherished her. No one to this day, except Benedict and her therapist, knew about the neglect and psychological abuse Penelope had endured under the roof of her own childhood home. At the age of 13 she had told Eloise and Colin about an incident where she hadn’t been given dinner for a week because according to her mother she was “too fat”. That had led to Portia stopping her from visiting the Bridgertons for a month. Violet had kept a closer eye on her after that. 

Penelope felt like she owed the Bridgertons so much for everything they had done for her growing up. As she now stepped out of the cab, she wondered if she would ever be able to repay them — she had tried but they always declined citing that she was family. The wind blew cold this mid-October night and she hurried up to the entrance of the grand gregorian house as she was clutching her crimson red coat around herself.

”Welcome to Annabel’s, miss. Can I please get your name?” The elderly host, dressed in a pristine three-piece black suit with a crisp white shirt, said as he prepared himself to scroll on the screen in front of him.

”Penelope Featherington.”

”Miss Featherington, they are expecting you,” he smiled and held out his arm in the direction of two large glass doors that separated the foyer from the conservatory. ”I can take your coat and bag for safe keeping.” He helped her take off her coat and she nodded demurely.

A cacophony of voices mixed with music was zippering through the air when she stepped onto the landing overlooking the bar and dance floor. Penelope let her eyes sweep over the room. Then she saw him — her Benedict — between two large palm trees leaning against the bar with a tired expression on his face and his head hanging low. She knew that the last couple of days had been a nightmare for him — the last blow being that she wouldn’t be at his side. It was solely for that reason she wanted to surprise him. Seeing him now made her body tense up and her eyebrows raised because a beautiful woman — slender, longlegged with hair the color of gold and in a tight beige dress — was clinging to his left side. Instinctively Penelope wanted to scream and run away — her breaths coming in short and hard. 

Who was this woman? Why was she so close to Benedict? 

A loud shriek bellowed through the room snapping her out of her spiraling mind. Penelope saw how Benedict seemed to wake from a trancelike state and how he instantly pushed away the woman draping herself over him — annoyance and frustration edged on his features. When his gaze found hers his whole body relaxed — jaw unclenched, shoulders rolled back, and eyes simmering with love. She tilted her head in question and confusion as he started to move towards her meandering between trees and people — the crowd separating them seemed to part like the Red Sea. 

Eloise jumped on her a second later, folding her arms around her.

“Pen, you made it! Oh I’m so happy, now the real party can begin!”

“El, I have missed you.”

When Benedict reached the landing her heart was hammering hard in her chest and tears were threatening to fall. 

“Ben.”

......... 

“Are you alright, Benedict?” Abigail purred, making him jump because she was yet again far too close to him letting one hand trail up his arm. Benedict recoiled. 

Why couldn’t this woman understand that he wasn't interested?

The only woman Benedict wanted touching him was his Penelope — his Nel. Nel, the nickname he had bestowed upon her one night, during one of his many visits. They had been lying in bed together, she had rested her head on his chest while he was reading aloud when he came across a passage about the mythical figure of Nuil, Nel, from Lebor Gabála Érenn. Penelope had laughed at him for his horrid pronunciations and had quickly proceeded to correct him. He had looked at her lovingly and with a smile said “I found that you, my darling, seems to be Nel personified because according to this…” he pointed to a paragraph in the book and leaned forward to kiss her on the nose. ”… he also had a thing for languages.” She kissed him deeply then and that was the night he told her that he loved her for the first time. 

As he stood at the bar reminiscing he could almost still feel her lips and how her warmth always enveloped him. It had been two agonizing weeks since he last saw her. But according to Hyacinth his Nel would be here tonight and his whole body was aching with his longing for her. She hadn’t told him that she was coming and he couldn’t understand why. When they had talked yesterday she had cried because she was still stuck in Edinburgh, the movers had never showed up as they had double–booked. He had offered to come up and help her but she had declined with the motivation that she was a strong independent woman with money who could pay real professionals, even if said professionals now were anything but. 

”I’m okay, thank you” Benedict sighed as he continued backing away from Abigail. He desperately tried but failed to make eye contact with Colin — who was half sitting on a barstool near him, having a conversation with their distant cousin.  

”Are you sure?” She breathed all while she followed after him reaching out for his hand and batting her long eyelashes at him. “You seem to be so tense. Maybe I could help you with that?”

Benedict’s patience finally snapped and he shouted: “Abigail! I have a girlfr…” 

Suddenly he was interrupted by a loud shriek from Eloise that somehow echoed through the room. She had abandoned her slightly confused fiancée on the dance floor as she rushed through the crowd of people. Benedict, equally confused, let his gaze follow her. Then he saw her:

His Penelope!

His Nel!

His love!

His heart!

His everything!

She was standing on the landing near the elevated entrance — long, wavy hair, the color of autumn leaves, cascading down one shoulder, lips red as sin, and a black dress that accentuated her every curve, curves that would make any classical artist salivate. His jaw dropped and everything else ceased to matter because Benedict could only see her. She was an angel…no, a goddess in human form and he was only a mere mortal that was put on this earth to worship the ground she walked on. Benedict could faintly hear people talking around him but nothing registered — he was in a total daze — until Abigail with a slight disdain in her voice piped up:

”Who’s that?” She was somehow plastered to his side as she let a hand rest on his chest. An unpleasant shudder went through him and he untangled himself quickly. He had started to question the sanity of this woman. ”Mother can really pick them.” he muttered to himself. 

”Benedict?”

“WHAT?!”

“Who’s that woman?”

He didn’t look at Abigail, his gaze locked with his Nel, as he answered in a voice so full of love and awe: “That…that is Penelope.” 

Penelope had a bewildered expression on her face that made his whole body tense with worry. And without a second thought he left Abigail at the bar, fully aware that she was probably following him with her gaze as he made his way through the throng of people separating him from his Nel. What he didn't notice, however, was that she wasn't the only one gauging his reaction. 

As soon as Benedict reached Penelope he enveloped her in a tight hug — in that moment he didn’t care if anyone saw them. She instantly relaxed against him and he wanted to kiss her there and then but he held back against every fiber in his body. With a deep breath he inhaled her scent — almonds, citrus, and something that was just Penelope. It was intoxicating. 

“Ben,” her voice so soft that his eyes teared up.

“Mon cœur, tu es tout…God, I’ve missed you so much, Nel,” he whispered, stroking her back. And for the first time this evening he was thankful for the loud music drowning out every sound they made.

“I’ve missed you too.”

Their moment was cut short as a slightly angry Eloise pushed Benedict. 

“Ben, let her go! Why the hell are you acting so weird?”

Benedict wanted to tell Eloise everything but by the pleading look Penelope gave him he thought better of it because tonight was not about them. He could tease his sister though. So reluctantly he let go of his Nel but stayed close and with a lopsided smile on his face he turned to Eloise. “Just like you, dear sister, I have missed her.”

“What’s wrong with you? You two have barely had a full conversation.”

“What do you know about that, El?” With a smirk Benedict winked at Penelope. While he could feel Eloise’s blazing eyes on him he, as discreetly as possible, risked letting his hand rest on the small of Penelope’s back. She leaned in to his touch, pushing herself back a little against his palm — the heat seeping through her dress almost burning him. At that moment he wondered if she also was thinking of their FaceTime call from last night, when he had watched her come undone by the way he had described how he wanted to kiss and lick every inch of her beautiful body and to make her tremble with need. Seeing how she let her eyes trail up and down his body with cheeks flushed and shifting slightly, he drew the conclusion that she very much was. It had been too long and Benedict wanted to drag her out of this godforsaken club and ravish her. 

“Pen, you’re here?!” Colin’s happy voice rang out, abruptly interrupting Benedict's musings. Penelope was suddenly pulled from his side and into his brother's open arms. He stared at them, the hug was too tight for his liking. Nel was his! He knew of course that he had nothing to worry about — Colin and Penelope were best friends and there was nothing romantic between them. That didn’t help tame the jealousy he felt now though. 

“Colin! I wouldn’t want to miss this for the world. Got everything settled with the move this morning quicker than I anticipated and bought a WAY overpriced plane ticket to get here.” 

“We’re so glad that you made it. I’ve missed you!” 

“Enough, she’s my best friend and it’s my party so go back to whatever corners you two came from.” 

“El, we have a right to greet her too!” Benedict and Colin protested, sporting the exact same exasperated expression on their faces. At this moment no one in their right mind could ever doubt that they were brothers. 

“Fine! Col, she is your friend but MY best friend. Ben on the other hand should just go back to his date. She is starting to look very lonely over there.” Eloise nodded in the direction of the bar. Benedict winced and he could see how Penelope's whole demeanor changed as she glanced at him with a pained look. 

“You…you have a date?”

“Oh yes! Mother thought it best to intervene so the brooding artist wouldn’t die alone.” Eloise chimed.

“Eloise!” Benedict warned, and he noticed that Colin was closely studying him.

“What? You two have been cosy at the bar all evening. In my opinion, they seem to have hit it off quite well.”

“I wouldn’t say that at all.” He leaned in to whisper in Penelope’s ear who had gone completely still. “Nel, I haven’t…”

“Oh look! Here she comes now.” Eloise exclaimed. Abigail, like a cougar locked in on her prey, sidled up to him and put a hand on his arm. An unpleasant shudder went through his body and he quickly pulled back so that he could move closer to Penelope. A flicker of disappointment passed on Abigail's face but it was gone in an instant as she seemingly collected herself.

“Hi, Penelope right?” 

“Yeah…yes, that’s me.” 

“I’m Abigail. Benedict here has told me so much about you.” 

Colin raised his eyebrows at him. Benedict shook his head as he again risked getting caught by putting a hand on Penelope’s back. The tension in her body seemed to ease somewhat but she gave him a questioning look before turning back to Abigail.

”Oh, he has?” 

“Yes, why wouldn’t he? He has such a large family that he has talked about all night and you are part of that like an extra sister.”

“That was actually...” Benedict tried to object, as he was stroking Penelope’s back in a comforting motion but Eloise, bored by the conversation, intervened.

”Come now. We need a drink, Pen!” 

As his sister hauled a confused Penelope away from him, Colin silently asked if he needed help. After a slight wave of Benedict's hand, his brother disappeared down the stairs but he could see that he lingered at the bottom. A deep sigh reaped from Benedict's chest and he turned slowly to Abigail who had a large smile on her face. She sauntered over to him, swaying her hips, and reached out her hand to him. He didn’t take it; he just stared at her. 

“Finally, we’re alone,” she said with a sultry voice.

“Abigail! You need to listen to me. All evening I have made myself clear that I’m not even remotely interested,” he took a deep breath trying to ground himself. “As I was trying to tell you earlier, Penelope is my girlfriend and the woman I love. I’m sorry…no I’m not actually sorry at all. I beg you to leave me and her alone!”

“But Benedict!” She took a few steps towards him. “She didn’t seem very happy to see you the way she let herself be dragged away from you. And she's not right for you at all.”

Anger surged through him – heart pounding and fist clenching so tight that his nails were digging into his palms. With flames in his eyes, he looked straight at Abigail.

“Stop, just stop right now for the love of God!” He backed up not wanting to be near this woman even a second longer. ”I don’t know you, Abigail. I don’t want to know you. As I said leave me and Penelope the fuck alone!”

Benedict rapidly left her by the entrance before she could think of a response — he needed to find Nel and do it fast. He knew that she was spiraling. It had taken him a long time to make her fully believe that he in fact was in love with her, every part of her. Damn her mother and her sisters for making the most beautiful woman in the world believe that she had to change to be worthy of love. Everyone knew that Penelope wasn’t close with her family and that her mother was nothing like his own. Violet might have her flaws but her actions always came from a place of love. Portia on the other hand believed in authoritarian parenting but the fact that this only extended to her youngest daughter and that it included daily weigh–ins, portion control, — some nights no food at all — and clothes two sizes too small, was a well-kept secret. The full extent of her neglect and abuse of Penelope was something Benedict only found out recently and it made his blood boil because if he or anyone in his family had known at the time they would have tried to get her out of her mother’s house. He had to find her. Quickly.

Chapter Text

One evening at the end of November last year Benedict had taken her out for dinner at La P’tite Folie (The Little Madness), a restaurant with wonderful authentic French food, located in an old Tudor house in Edinburgh. It offered a fantastic setting with dark wooden details and warm inviting colors. Benedict, to her surprise, ordered everything in fluent French; from the appetizer to which wine would best go with their bouillabaisse — which hadn’t even been on the menu. She had teased him mercilessly for being pretentious. 

“Penelope, you wound me!“ He exclaimed, holding a hand over his heart in mock offense.

”This is definitely something Anthony would do.” She had chuckled — knowing that he would probably hate being compared to his older brother.

“You didn’t just say that?! I’m nothing like Anthony!” Benedict had almost growled and pinned her with a hard stare. “That was a low blow. Don’t even joke about that ever again.”

“Oh, but Ben, it’s true. You’re more like your brother than you think. Not only are you both handsome but you are…” She had put a hand over her mouth as she had realized what she just said — a faint blush had crept up her cheeks.

“You find us…me handsome?” Benedict had tilted his head to the side with a smirk. 

She hadn’t answered him, instead they had let time stretch until their gazes had locked and his eyes had radiated such warmth that it could even have melted the coldest of hearts. 

“I’m just putting on all my charm tonight to impress the beautiful lady in front of me,” Benedict had said after a moment.

“I’m not...”

”What? I am trying to make a good impression on you, Penelope.”

“Benedict, it's not funny. I know I’m not…” She had turned her head down  — staring at the table, too afraid to meet his eyes.

“You're not what? Beautiful?”

“I know what I am.”

”Mon cœur, tu es tout,” he had put a finger gently under her chin and made her look at him again — her heart had skipped a beat. ”My heart, you are everything. You’re a gorgeous woman with hair the color of flames and rainfall blue eyes that can see straight into my very soul.” 

“Ben,” she had breathed, and he had enveloped her small hand in his.  

“I don’t know how this happened but it did and I’m not going to sit here denying it any longer. I really like you, Penelope.”

“I don’t know what to say…I…” she had whispered, looking down at their joined hands lying on the wooden table. Her mind had raced, her eyes welded up — the room had suddenly felt suffocating. “I’m sorry…I…I need some air.” Penelope abruptly pushed her chair back and, in a hurry, left the restaurant — leaving a bewildered Benedict in her wake. 

Benedict had followed her out a moment later, where he had found her pacing back and forth on the sidewalk — rain silently falling down making the city stand still.

“Penelope, what happened? What did I do?

“Ben, I…you…I..” Benedict had tentatively put his arms around Penelope’s trembling body and whispered soothing words in her ear. 

“I will go inside, get the food as take out and then we will go back home to your flat,” he had let his hand rest on the small of her back. “Does that sound good?” She had nodded against his chest and before he had let her go he kissed the top of her head. 

When they arrived at her apartment Benedict had gone to the kitchen to prepare their food while Penelope made her way to the bathroom — putting her hair up in a messy bun, washing off her make-up and changing into a hoodie and leggings. As she emerged, Benedict had made himself comfortable on the couch — the sleeves of his white button-up rolled up showing off his arms and his blazer had been thrown on the forestgreen armchair in the corner. He had turned all the lights down and lit several candles around the room, giving it a soft warm glow. 

They ate in silence and drank flutes of Champagne Krug Grande Cuvee that Benedict had bought from the restaurant. As moments passed, Penelope had curled up on the couch, a deep sigh escaping her lips —  hands folded tightly in her lap.

“My mother never wanted me. She had always wished for a son and instead she got stuck with me.” Penelope whispered. “She reminded me of that fact, more or less every single day.”

Benedict went completely still, food abandoned on the coffee table, as Penelope, with a cracked voice, resumed telling him about her childhood in the Featherington House.

“From the age of nine I was put on strict diets and dragged to doctors appointments every other month because there had to be something wrong with me for being so bodily different in comparison to my lean and perfect sisters.” 

“Did anyone know what was going on? Did my mother, Eloise, Colin…?” Benedict asked in a hushed tone with a horrified expression on his face.

“I told Eloise and Colin once that I had been left without dinner for a week but that only led to Portia stopping me from visiting your house.”

“Where was I while this was happening? I would have torn down that house if I had known!”

“You mother tried, but as I said, that only led to my mother isolating me. You couldn’t have done anything. She never hurt me physically. There was nothing anyone could have done.” Penelope had pulled her legs up under herself as sat in the corner of the couch and let a small tear trail down her face. “In my mother’s eyes, I was never good enough or pretty enough. I was a disappointment — plain and simple.”

Benedict had leaned forward and had taken one of her hands in his, pulling her against him to let her head rest on his shoulder. 

“My sisters, Prudence and Philippa, were the golden children. They were perfect — tall, lean, and beautiful. They could never do anything wrong but if I so much as sneezed at the wrong time, I was punished, often by being sent to my room without food.” 

“How can a mother act like that? I know my mother has some flaws, she and I have had our differences through the years, but she would never do something like that.” Benedict had stood up, pacing the room in anger and cursed that he should have known — that he should have been able to protect her.

“Ben, you didn’t know. I have asked myself so many times if I could have done anything differently. If I could have been a better daughter… If only I had lost the weight she wanted me to — maybe she wouldn’t have done what she did.”

”Penelope, you didn’t do anything wrong. You were a child. Your mother should have protected and cherished you.” Benedict had fallen to his knees in front of her then and had taken a deep breath to steady himself. 

When puberty had hit the abuse had escalated as Penelope’s large bosom hadn’t been to Portia’s liking and she had done everything to conceal it. She had forced her to bind her breasts and to always have some kind of shapewear under her clothes so that she wouldn’t draw any attention to herself. Penelope had tried to argue that she wasn’t the only one in her grade that looked like her but according to her mother “no respectable girl has big breasts and if you want to find a good husband you don’t want to look like a whore.”  When Penelope had mentioned that she was only 14 years old and didn’t intend to get married until she was finished with university and had a good job, her mother and sisters had laughed at her. Portia explained that her appearance should always be her number one priority, rather than her studies, because no man would ever want a plump, fat wife and men also hate “know-it-all“ women. And her sisters snickered that Penelope wasn’t even smart enough to attend university.

As an adult she had gone to therapy and it had helped her but at times she still heard her mother and sisters taunting words in her head. Benedict’s earlier declaration had made her overwhelmed and she couldn’t fathom why he would ever say something like that to her. Penelope knew that he had dated a lot of beautiful women and men — none of whom had any resemblance with her. They had all been like her sisters; tall, proportionate with flat stomachs and golden skin. 

“Do you still have any contact with your mother and sisters?”

“Not as often anymore.” Penelope had gone ”low contact” with her mother and sisters after she moved but she still received messages from time to time from Portia trying to guilt her into giving her money that in Portia's mind she was entitled to. That was one of the reasons why Penelope moved in the first place. 

“Good,” he had murmured as he sat down on the couch again and pulled her into his arms. ”What about your father?” 

“My father was a gambling alcoholic who didn’t care about anyone but himself. He often just ignored what happened around him, if he even was at home at all. He did surprise me though...”

A couple of years before her father passed away, Archibald secretly set aside a trust fund for Penelope — only for Penelope — with the little money that was left of the family fortune. The Featherington family came from old money but they had lost their former status through the years as Archibald gambled away a large portion of their wealth. Her mother had been absolutely livid when Penelope’s inheritance had been revealed and had demanded that it should be transferred to her immediately but Penelope had refused. Her father had not been an honorable man by any means but he had made sure that Penelope would be able to achieve what goals she had in life. It hadn’t ratified the years of neglect but it was something and it was hers.

Penelope had broken down in tears — this had been the first time she told anyone close to her about her past. Eloise and Colin knew parts of it as she hadn’t been able to disclose all of it — mostly out of shame but in her mind she had also wanted to protect them. When a harsh sob had rattled through her at that moment, Benedict had pulled her onto his lap — holding her tightly to his chest.  She had tried to protest claiming that she was too heavy but he had just held her and whispered sweetly into her ear. 

“Penelope, I can’t even imagine what you have been through and I can’t do anything to change the past. But let me tell you…you are more than enough. You are as breathtaking as a sunset — with all its vibrant colors. You are as beautiful as a sunrise — with all the hope of a new day. You are my heart and my everything.”

The air in the room had shifted — anticipation, longing, and the hope of something new. Penelope hadn’t been able to hear anything but her racing heart and under her fingertips she had felt how Benedict was trembling. He reached out and carefully brushed a flyaway lock of hair behind her ear as she lifted her chin slowly and looked into his stormy eyes. She leaned in…breathed in his scent — cedar wood, spices, and something that was simply Benedict.

“Penelope,” her name had fallen from his lips — soft like cotton — as they closed the last thread between them and their lips had met in a tentative kiss. Time stopped and nothing outside of her apartment existed or mattered anymore — no doubt or judgment. Only Benedict and her — and he had been with her, holding her, letting her feel everything. 

.........

Penelope let herself be dragged away from Benedict — who bore the face of a man that was on the brink of starting a war. All Penelope wanted was to stay with him, to let him explain what had just happened. She still didn’t really know who Abigail was and why she felt comfortable with throwing herself at Benedict. In her heart she knew that Benedict wasn’t interested in this woman — he had tried to tell her as much. She wasn’t blind though — to any outsider Abigail would fit perfectly together with the handsome Benedict Bridgerton. She didn’t want to compare herself but while she was short, soft and with alabaster skin, Abigail was beautiful, tall, with a sculpted and sun-kissed body. Penelope tried to sooth herself by repeatedly murmuring: ”Ben loves me.”

Eloise huffed as she kept hauling her in the direction of the bar — through the throng of people, some of whom Penelope had met before at other events. She could see both Gregory and Hyacinth dancing with a group of people seemingly totally immersed in the music.

“El, please slow down.”

“You, my dear friend, have a lot of catching up to do. Two tequila shots…Now!”

Penelope held up a hand as she protested. “El, I do not want to drink tonight.”

“Why not? It's my engagement party. You have to drink!”

Penelope had her reasons for why she didn’t want to drink tonight, for one she had never been a big drinker. After years of watching her father slowly drink himself to death, she never saw the appeal. During her teenage years Archibald had developed a habit of drunkenly calling her in the middle of the night because he knew that Portia would lock the door and not let him inside — for this she couldn’t blame her mother. She had tried ignoring him but had then more often than not been woken up by him throwing rocks at her window or him yelling loudly from the garden below her bedroom. He had often told her that of all his children she was his favorite and that he loved her. In some way she believed him but it had not been enough — his drunken confessions didn’t mean a thing when he did nothing when her mother and sisters tormented and ridiculed her on a daily basis. When he had been found dead in an alley one early spring morning she had just felt numb — no tears, no heartache…just nothing. For years she felt guilty for this but therapy had helped her realise that no grief is the same and even though Archibald had been sick she shouldn’t have had to deal with all of the consequences. 

“Oh come now, Eloise. She doesn’t have to drink if she doesn’t want to.” Kate’s melodic voice rang out beside her as she felt herself being twirled around and embraced by Anthony.

“Kate…Anthony!”

“Penelope, we’re so happy that you’re here and finally back home.” Anthony mumbled into her hair as he held her even tighter, lifting her up slightly from the ground. Penelope chuckled, feeling a little lighter for the moment.

Anthony had always been like a big brother to her — protective, loyal, and caring. Before Kate he had often been perceived as a short-tempered, overly serious, dutiful, and unapproachable man who only seemed to live for the Bridgerton legacy. Kate had softened him but with her fiery personality she still kept him on his toes. Penelope knew that most of his siblings had, at one time or another, had their conflicts with Anthony; Colin wanting to travel but lacking a clear direction in his life, Daphne with her relationship with Anthony’s best friend Simon, Eloise ending up in the tabloids for yet again another protest, and recently Benedict had told her how Anthony had tried to stop him from pursuing his art. With Penelope it had been different, probably mostly for the fact she wasn’t a true Bridgerton, but he had always tried to be there for her. She suspected that he might have more knowledge regarding her childhood than he let on but they had never openly addressed it. He had been there supporting her whenever she needed and he had been the one helping with her trust fund after her father’s death.

“Two tequila shots!” Eloise told the bartender again in a harsh tone. Penelope sighed.

“El, darling. I have been up since 5am and if I drink, I will fall asleep.” 

“Yes, yes but one tiny drink won’t hurt.”

Anthony gave his sister a hard stare. 

“Eloise Bridgerton! Penelope said no.” 

“Thank you, Ant.” Penelope gave him a soft smile as she turned to Eloise. ”Babe, I’m not 20 anymore, I'm 27. If I want to have a mocktail, I can.”

“Okay, fine! You’re not pregnant, are you?” Penelope’s cheeks heated up, she swayed from side to side uncomfortably. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t answer because at this moment in time she didn’t know. Eloise’s judging gaze locked on her and Penelope looked pleadingly at Kate and Anthony who both rolled their eyes.

“El, what kind of question is that?” Kate said as she leaned against Anthony who put a hand on her lower back. 

”She knows I’m just joking,” Eloise laughed. “And of course I know that you’re not pregnant, Pen. You don’t have a guy…yet. But I have seen some really good looking ones here tonight. I could introduce you as they are all here for me.”

Penelope loved Eloise, but sometimes she has a tendency of saying things before thinking. This is one of the reasons why she has been nervous about telling Eloise about her almost year-long relationship with Benedict. She knew that over time Eloise will be happy for them, but initially she might feel like she has been left out or betrayed. Penelope hoped that the fact that Eloise almost acted the same, when it came to her relationship with Phillip, will make her understand why they have been hiding it. 

“Hey El, what’s this I hear about you lusting over hot guys. I’m your fiancé, remember?”

“First of all, I’m not lusting. I am just keeping a lookout for Pen. Second of all, some of them are related to me.” 

“Hi Phil,” Penelope ignored Eloise as she gave Phillip a quick side hug.

“Hi Pen, hope your flight was good and that everything is going well with the move.”

“It was okay, a little bit of turbulence nothing more. Regarding the move, everything is packed on a lorry and on its way to London. Should be here by Monday.”

“Pen hun, I just remembered. Where are you staying? Have you gotten the keys to your new place in Shoreditch already?” The questions tumbled out of Eloise’s mouth. 

“Shoreditch? You know that you will be living close to Ben?” Anthony raised his eyebrows and smirked mischievously. Penelope flushed crimson instantly under his gaze. 

This was all too much she needed a minute to herself.

In a voice as steady as she could muster, she pointed at Eloise ”El, can you order a drink for me? Nothing alcoholic.” She took a deep breath collecting herself. “I just need to freshen up.”

She quickly slipped away to the restrooms, hidden behind a flowerwall and large pots with red canna lilies, not too far from the bar. As she was adjusting her dress she tried to calm herself down by murmuring over and over again. ”I’m okay. Everything’s okay. Ben loves me. He loves me. We are going to tell everyone soon.” She put a hand on her stomach, took a deep breath while looking at her reflection in the mirror for a moment — trying to collect her thoughts — before she walked out. When she opened the door she stopped dead in her tracks — Abigail was there.

“Oh Penelope.”

“Hi, Sorry for occupying the restroom for so long. It’s yours now. I’m just going back to the others.” Penelope tried to go around her — hearing how her own heart started to beat faster — but Abigail stepped in front of her. ”Abigail?”

“Penelope,” she began with so much sweetness in her voice that it probably would lead to cavities. “You seem like a smart girl and if I were you I would back away now before you get hurt.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

“Darling, Benedict needs someone who he can rely on and who matches him. What I know from just looking at you is that you are not it.” Abigail closed the distance between them, a wide smile adorned her face as Penelope slowly backed up — pulse rising, breaths coming in hard. 

”You don’t know anything about me at all. We met less than an hour ago.”

”Sweetheart, I know your type.” Penelope’s back hit the wall — she was cornered. “I know that Benedict is keeping you like his dirty little secret. You must understand that he has made his choice. He went to his sister's engagement party tonight officially with me.”

Penelope was trembling and she hated the fact that she was letting her get under her skin. “What I heard, it was Violet who invited you?”

“Oh yes, his mother loves and adores me. We have so much in common. You see, we work on a charity together and she knows me through and through. I have never heard her mentioning you and why would she when you clearly are working class trash.” Penelope's whole body was shaking, trying not to let the tears that were welling up fall. Abigail chuckled. “Violet knows exactly what her son needs in his life. Benedict and I have met at so many events this year that I have lost count and he has been all over me this evening, he hasn't left my side once. You will probably see the pictures tomorrow but here is one for you to look at now.”

Abigail held up her phone showing a picture of herself leaning against a smiling Benedict — a smile that didn’t seem to reach his eyes as his adorable crows feet were nowhere to be seen but that didn’t soothe Penelope’s spiraling mind. She didn't know what to think anymore and she could feel her throat closing — she needed to get out of here. “Benedict loves me. He loves me,” she repeated over and over again to herself as she closed her eyes trying to hide away from the world — from Abigail. 

“As you see we are very close.”

.........

Benedict, with a frantic look on his face and ragged breath, stumbled down the stairs — right into Colin. 

“Brother?” Colin took a hold of his shoulders, steading him. “Are you alright?” 

“Col, did you see where Penelope went?” 

Colin stared and tilted his head while observing him. Benedict knew that Colin seemingly had a sixth sense — where he easily could gauge people’s emotional state. After their father’s death Colin had, for years, taken it upon himself to try and make everyone smile, at least once a day. And he could charm anyone without even trying. That’s why he had so easily been able to make his travels into a career — the only one being surprised had been Anthony as he had tried getting him to settle down and take on, in his opinion, a respectable job. Colin had as a child shown great interest in different cultures and languages, and like him he could speak fluently in French but also Italian, Greek, and Japanese. And if Benedict remembers correctly Colin had even picked up some Swedish — or was it Norwegian or Danish? — after he had dated a Scandinavian woman a couple of years ago. With the way Colin was studying him now, Benedict knew that his brother had probably already been able to read him like an open book. 

“Why are you looking for Penelope?”

“I need to talk to her now!” Benedict sweeping his gaze over the room desperately trying to spot her fiery locks. ”Abigail…she…I…I need to talk to Ne..Penelope.”

“Since when do you talk to Pen?” 

“Please, I beg you, Colin. I will explain everything later but it’s very important that I find her,” he pleaded.

Colin’s eyes softened as he pointed to the furthest corner of the room: “Last I saw her she was heading to the bar with El.”

Without another word he started pushing himself through the crowded dance floor, realising that he probably should have taken the long way around instead. He couldn’t think clearly anymore, all he wanted was to find his Nel. And when he did he was going to make their relationship known to everyone around because he couldn’t wait any longer. As he made it to the left corner of the dance floor a large hand landed on his shoulder, stopping him.

“Why do you look like a man on a hunt, brother?”

“Anthony, not now. I need to…” Benedict turned to leave. 

”To find Penelope?” Benedict’s head snapped back. Anthony looked at him with a smug expression and winked.

“What…how did you…?”

“I know everything.”

“Oh there are so many things wrong with that statement, Ant. But I don’t have time.“ 

“Ben, she’s not at the bar anymore. She went to the restroom.”

Benedict rolled his shoulders — relaxing a bit — and looked at his older brother. “Thank you. We’ll talk about this later.” 

Benedict started to walk away but he spun around after just a few steps. “Go back to Kate now, she is probably up for another heated discussion.” With a lopsided smile he added. “But Ant, remember to use protection. My dear sister-in-law just had a baby so she needs to rest a bit longer before baby number four.” 

With a chuckle he left a bewildered Anthony standing at the edge of the dance floor. As he turned the corner he finally spotted her but to his horror she was not alone — his face fell and his body went rigid. Penelope was backed against the wall — shoulders slumped, like she had curled in on herself, and her eyes glistened with tears. He could hear Abigail cackle:

”Sweetheart, you are just a placeholder, nothing more.”

Benedict surged forward, anger flaring up, fists clenched and breaths shallow, as he barked: “ABIGAIL!”

She flinched but collected herself quickly and gave him a sweet smile. “Oh Benedict, there you are. I was just telling Penelope about how lovely the night has been and that…” 

He didn’t pay her any heed, he only pushed past her and reached out for Penelope — his anger replaced by concern. ”Nel, darling, come here.” She let herself be enveloped in his arms, her tears started to fall down her cheeks, as he whispered in her ear: “Everything will be alright. I’m here. What did she say? What did she do?” 

“I was just…” Abigail tried to intervene.

“Shut up!” Uncontrollable rage erupted, his once gray green eyes were all black and breaths came in hard. Benedict pulled Penelope closer to him, laying a hand protectively at the back of her head stroking her hair in an attempt to both calm her but also anchor himself. ”My mother set us up because she thought I was a lonely bachelor and that she needed to meddle, as she always does, but I have told you before there is only one woman for me and that is Nel. So go home!”

“But Ben…we were going to.”

“THERE IS NO WE AND THERE NEVER WILL BE A WE, SO GO HOME NOW!”

Abigail didn’t say anything else, she just smiled as she turned on her heel and slowly walked away too proudly for someone who just lost a battle. Penelope was shaking and he held her tightly to his chest.

“Nel…love. I don’t know what she told you but as I said Mother set me up. She was just there as my dinner partner when I got here.” 

“Ben…” she sniffled. ”El said that you had been all cosy,” her voice cracked a little. “Then Abigail just said the same thing. I don’t…”

“I know, darling,” he put a finger under her chin to make her look at him. “I know what El said but please Nel, don’t listen to her regarding this and definitely don’t listen to Abigail. All evening she has thrown herself at me.” 

Penelope tried to divert her eyes but Benedict cupped her face between his palms. “No, no my love. Please look at me. I need you to understand that I have dismissed her every single time, more times than I can count at this point.” He took a deep breath, grounding himself. “Do you remember how Cressida acted around Colin?”

She seemed to hesitate for a second but then nodded and gave him a weak smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Just like Colin wasn’t interested in Cressida, I’m not interested in Abigail. The only woman I want is this: stubborn,” he leaned in and gave her a peck on her forehead “infuriating, redheaded woman,” another kiss but this time on her left cheek. ”She is a goddess, my goddess!” Benedict kissed her other cheek and Penelope started to giggle.

“There she is,” he beamed down at her as he leaned in resting his forehead against hers. “You don’t have anything to worry about. You are the only one for me, my love.” He enveloped her, letting his hands stroke soothingly up and down her back as he whispered: “I love you so much, Nel.”

“I love you too, Ben.” Penelope buried her face in his chest as her fingers gripped the bottom of his sweater. All the tension in his body dissipated and he could feel how her breaths evened out. For a long time they just stood there, nothing else mattered at that moment — the world outside their corner didn’t exist — until he quietly asked:

”Why didn’t you tell me you were coming tonight?”

”I wanted it to be a surprise.” She pushed away from him a little and tilted her chin up to look at him. ”But I ended up being the one surprised as my boyfriend had a woman half draped over him when I got here.”

The corners of his lips turned upward at the word boyfriend and he looked straight into her sparkling eyes — eyes that he could drown in and held all the answers to the universe within them.

”Nel, I’m so sorry. I should have been even more stern with my mother when she insisted on inviting someone as my plus one.”

She put her arms around his neck, fingers tangled in his hair at the nape, and as she stood on her tiptoes she pulled him down for a kiss. He tightened his grip around her — he had missed this. The kiss wasn't meant to be heated or lead to something more. It was the kind of kiss that spoke to your soul, that tells you that you have found your safe haven — your home. Neither of them knew how much time passed and neither of them cared, until someone cleared their throat behind them.

“I take it that you two don’t want the rest of the family to know, especially not El, and therefore my advice would be not to make out in front of the restrooms.”

They jumped apart as they turned to face a smug looking Colin leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. 

“Colin!” Penelope exclaimed while Benedict relaxed and calmly put an arm around Penelope’s waist, and pulled her to his side — signaling to her that everything was okay.

Colin chuckled good heartedly: ”You should have seen your faces.”

”We are going to tell everyone.” Benedict said as Colin held up a hand and shook his head. ”You don’t have to explain anything right now, but I do expect free drinks for the rest of the night.” 

”Anthony is the one paying and for the record you have a trust fund, little brother.” 

“That’s true. We’ll have to make a toast to our dear brother in thanks.” They all broke out in laughter. 

After a moment Penelope, still a bit stunned, asked: “How did you know?” 

“Ben here was looking so frantically for you that it was hard to miss.” Colin placed a hand on Benedict’s shoulder and squeezed. “If you don’t want anyone else to find out we should get back because El is looking for you, Pen.” 

“Okay, thank you. Could you just wait two seconds so I can fix my make-up?”

Before Benedict or Colin could answer Penelope ran into one of the restrooms. Colin put his arm around Benedict and leaned in whispering with a firm voice. “Just one thing, Ben. If you hurt her, I will come for you.” 

“I didn’t expect anything less from you, Col and I promise. She means the world to me.”

“Aww, you’re down bad, brother.” Colin teased but gave him a nod of approval, and as Penelope came back he turned to face her with a wide smirk on his face. “Why him when you could have had a younger and better looking version?”

”Greg is only 20 years old, Col. I will admit that he has grown the last couple of years, broader shoulders, chiseled jaw and a deeper voice. He is definitely more manly now but I’m not really into younger men.”

Benedict guffawed as Colin put a hand over his heart. “Pen, what the hell!”

“Naw, did I hurt the pretty boy's feelings?” Penelope mocked.

“Yes, but at least you called me pretty. Come along now before El finds you two back here. I think Casanova really wants to keep his…head.”

“Oh that would really be a shame. I do enjoy his…head.” 

“Oh my God, Pen! I really didn’t need to know that.” Colin whined.

“God, I love you, Nel!”

.........

In the beginning of December last year, they had been at Water of Leith Walkway, it had snowed earlier that day — a fine powder had covered the path and lights had been twinkling on the bare branches. Benedict had suddenly stopped – his black coat blowing in the wind.

“Come here.” 

“Ben?” Penelope had looked at him questingly as she had tugged her red jacket more tightly around herself and adjusted her gray earmuffs. His hand had stretched out towards her and she had taken it — letting herself be twirled into his arms. He had held her tightly against himself — ignoring all the people milling around them.

“Penelope,” he had breathed, her name had sounded like a prayer. “Mon cœur, tu es tout. We have known each other for so long but we have never been on the same page…until now. I have been drifting, not knowing in which direction I’m heading. Since you texted me almost three months ago, I have had this feeling that I have finally found peace. Being here with you that feeling has only intensified and in my heart I know that you are my anchor. You will hold me steady when the wind tries to blow me off course and together we will face all the trials of the world. I just want to stand still with you. Do you want to stand still with me?”

Penelope had stopped breathing. Her mind had been reeling and her mother’s voice had screamed at her that he didn’t mean it — no man would ever want her. Penelope had been in relationships before but it had never been like this, it had never been this serious. She had stared into his seafoam colored eyes and what she had seen was only…truth. For the first time in her life she had decided to believe, because if this had only been a lie she wouldn’t survive it either way. She stood on her tiptoes and put her arms around his neck as she whispered: “Yes, Benedict. I want to stand still with you.”

.........

Benedict was back at the bar, a new glass of whiskey in his hand, but he no longer felt the same aching need to leave — his love was here. They hadn’t been able to talk much for the past two hours as Eloise had made sure to occupy her time — he hadn’t left her out of his sight though. He knew that Abigail had left the club as Eloise had informed him and wondered why he would ever let a woman like that go because to her she had seemed perfect for him. He hadn’t even dignified that with an answer. 

From the bar he could see how Penelope was now dancing with Eloise, Francesca, Gregory, and Hyacinth — the latter who just a couple of moments ago had almost tackled Penelope in her excitement of seeing her again. His youngest sister was highly charismatic and so full of love and energy — a combination that could either end in triumph or in a bout of mischief.

God help her future partner! 

“You look happy, brother,” Anthony said with a broad grin, leaning against the bar beside him. 

“I am,” Benedict took a deep breath, his gaze still locked on Penelope — wondering what Gregory had whispered in her ear to make her laugh. “How long have you known?”

“Since Christmas.” 

“What?” He hastily turned to look straight at his brother, eyes widening in disbelief. “How did you find out?”

“Mother was worried that you had fallen off the wagon and wanted me to investigate it.”

Benedict furrowed his eyebrows, jaw clenched as a silent string of fury went through his body. He knew his mother had a knack for being meddlesome but that she would ask his older brother to spy on him, that was something else entirely. He hadn’t felt this angry and blindsided for almost 15 years. In his early twenties he had felt extremely lost, and he had ended up with the wrong crowd which in turn had led to him getting arrested — for dancing naked in the fountain at Trafalgar Square while being high as a kite. His mother had forced him to move back to Bridgerton House for the remainder of his university years. Anthony for his part had put him on a short leash, even going so far as to write a letter to the head of Cambridge University’s History of Art department asking for a leave of absence. For according to Anthony, Benedict needed to get his head back on straight and get a degree in something useful — like business administration. He did not talk to his older brother for a year after that. 

“Brother, you must understand that she just wanted to know if you needed help and after tracking some of your transactions I could assure her that everything seemed fine.” Anthony patted him on his left shoulder and winked. “Your trips to Edinburgh, together with the way you couldn’t stop staring at our dear Penelope during the Christmas party, made it easy to draw a conclusion.” 

“Why haven’t you said anything?”

“I know you, Ben. And if you wanted to keep it a secret then who am I to tell anyone?”

”Ant, you have never been one to shy away from outing your siblings. I believe I have Kate to thank for your discretion.”

Anthony chuckled, shaking his head. They were quiet then for a while.  As Anthony spotted Kate he clapped Benedict on his back and started to walk away but he spun around and said. “Finding that one person that grounds you is what matters and it will change your very being. For the record, I do think Penelope is the one for you, brother.” 

Benedict gave him a nod and genuine smile as he let his shoulders drop, the tension in his body dissipated. He turned his head to the dance floor again, Penelope was surrounded by people but his siblings were nowhere to be found. He watched her move in perfect sync to the beat — her hands tangled in her hair, the curls cascading through her fingers and down her back, her lush hips swayed, and her breasts — dear God — her breasts were bouncing. His mouth instantly went dry, heartbeat quickened, and he felt his trousers tighten. 

She really is the most beautiful woman in the world!

He downed the last drops of his drink and slammed the glass on the bar — he needed her. His feet started to move, she was drawing him in — like a siren luring a sailor. 

When he finally reached her, Benedict placed one of his arms around her waist from behind — not caring if anyone saw them. He could feel her body tense as he let his head rest on her shoulder. His lips traced the curve of her neck and when they ghosted over her right ear he whispered: “I don’t want to hide anymore.” 

“Ben, we agreed to wait. This is El’s…”

“It’s always one of my siblings’ birthdays or some other occasion that needs to be announced. I can’t wait. I need you now!” One of his hands splayed across her stomach while the other stroked her side down to her hip. He pulled her flush against him, letting her feel him — heat rising between them. 

“I need you too,” she said hoarsely and leaned into his touch — pushing back her hips and moving them in small circular motions.

“Nel, you can’t move like that and not expect me to o ravish you here on the dance floor.”

Penelope's breath hitched as he gripped her hips — stilling her movements and keeping her close to him. Slowly she let a hand travel in between them, stroking over his clothed but very protruding bulge. His hips involuntarily jerked forward. The world beyond them disappeared. 

“Love! I beg you…don’t,” he hissed. 

“Oh but I want to!”

Penelope rubbed over his erection, tracing the fly with one finger. His grip on her tightened and a low growl ripped from him.

“I can’t take it anymore. Let's go home!”

He didn’t let her answer, he just took her hand and started to haul her out of the club — into the cold London night.

.........

3am Saturday the Alphabet-chat 

Hy the almighty: Did anyone else see who Ben left with? 

Chapter Text

After Benedict was arrested he had tried to distance himself from his mother and Anthony — something that had been exceedingly difficult since he had been forced to move back into Bridgerton House. His mother had demanded it, in an attempt to keep an eye on him, and even though he was an adult, he had given in after days of endless fights because he loved his family dearly and his younger siblings had begged him. Benedict thought that his mother had overreacted as the offense hadn’t been that severe and he had gotten away with a night in jail, to sober up, and a slap on the wrist.

The tabloids had a field day though and pictures of his naked behind were plastered on every street corner for days. Benedict had found it funny, but Anthony had not been amused in the slightest which had led to him sending a letter on his behalf to the head of Cambridge University’s History of Art department asking for a leave of absence. Benedict had refused to talk or at times even acknowledge Anthony’s existence after that but he had complied with his demands — he put a pause on his studies for the next two semesters. After all the fights with his brother and mother, he had lost all of his inspiration anyway, and whenever he tried to put a pen to paper or a brush to a canvas he felt like a fraud — gut wrenching doubt had nestled its way into his mind. 

To him nothing he had ever done was now good enough. Every line was off, every brushstroke was a lie, and the color combinations screamed of incompetence. For a year he hadn't looked at his sketchbooks, touched a canvas or even visited the studio that his father had let build for him in the attic as a birthday gift when he turned twelve. The studio had always given him a place where he could find inner peace but that had no longer been the case. It felt like a part of his soul was missing and he no longer knew who he was — he was lost. 

During that summer Benedict had against every fiber in his body signed up for an art class in Paris; he wanted to challenge himself and try to get his muse back but he hated himself for even trying. The trip had been exactly how he expected. Instead of meeting likeminded people, that he could have connected and exchanged ideas with, the classmates had turned their backs on him and confirmed what he already knew. In their opinion he had simply been an upper class man living off of his father’s good name and wealth — that he wasn’t and would never become an artist, he hadn’t seen real hardship or felt true pain. And his teachers seemed to share their sentiment. Benedict unenrolled a week later, and spent the remainder of his visit drunk on wine and in different people’s beds, avoiding anything that had to do with art — his sketchbooks packed away in his suitcase. 

The moment he had set foot inside the Bridgerton House again, he had been met by his mother, standing in the foyer waiting for him with a suspicious countenance. She had proceeded to hound him regarding every last detail of what he had been up to as if he was under some investigation. Benedict had only given her some generic answers. When Anthony had approached him, Benedict refused as he hadn’t felt ready for that confrontation. That was of course something Anthony couldn’t accept anymore and had therefore cornered him one evening in the library.

“Aren’t you doodling tonight?” 

“Why do you care, Anthony?” He had said in a sarcastic tone so thick that you would be able to cut it with a knife, of course his brother hadn’t noticed that he had stopped sketching and painting. “Here I thought you would be happy with me spending my evening doing anything but doodling.”

“Come now, Ben. You have to realise that you can’t spend your whole life on a hobby. I want you to think things through.”

“I know what you want me to do but I have to figure that out on my own,” Benedict sighed deeply. Anthony’s words from the year before had been playing over and over in his mind: “Ben, art is beautiful to look at but for the most part it’s a waste of time.” 

Anthony studied him for a while before he spoke again. “Brother, I did what I thought was best for you.” 

“Come off it, Ant. You did what would suit you and the legacy of this family. You don’t want some failed artist linked to the family name and therefore you decided that I should change majors.” Benedict stood up and started to pace. “I know it was unfair that you had to step up as CEO at our father's company and that you didn’t get a choice. But you're fully aware of the fact that the corporate world is not for me at all. I made one fucking mistake and you act like it’s the end of the world.”

“Benedict, you got arrested,” Anthony raised his voice and slammed a hand on the table before him as he stood up.

“Yes, I did and you never let me hear the end of it. I have paid the price for that incident.” Benedict inhaled slowly trying to calm himself. “You don’t get to decide what I’m going to do with my life.”

“It’s obvious that you don’t even know what you want to do with your life, Ben. Just like with Colin, who has his head up in the clouds, I have to step in and see that you both get the right education. You just want to waste your time and money on art. There is no career in that. Father would have wanted…”

“First of all, Colin is 15 years old, cut him some slack. Secondly, don't you dare talk about what Father would have wanted. You have no right and no fucking idea.” Benedict interrupted and stopped pacing right in front his brother locking eyes with him — pulse high and ragged breath. ”What do you know about art, Anthony? Have you seen anything I have ever done?” 

“Of course I have seen what you have done, and they are really good but that doesn’t mean you will make money out of it.”

”Life is not always about money.” Benedict scoffed, slumped down on a settee with a somber face — staring at the floor as his classmates' taunting laughter rang in his ears.

Anthony had sat down in an armchair facing him. “Money is a big part of it and I know that you have your trust fund but I have to make sure that you make the right decisions. I had to sacrifice my life for you all after our father‘s death.” 

”And you think I have just been drifting?” Anger surged through him again — chest heaving and jaw tight. “I stepped up and took care of everyone else’s needs.”

“You still got to be you.”

“Oh did I, really? How would you have known? All you did was to lock yourself away in Father’s old study while Mother barely left her room and I had to tend to all of our younger siblings — every meal, every scraped knee, every tear, and every question about Father. I was there too.” Benedict had abruptly stood up — heart heavy and eyes watery — and with determined steps he walked out of the library muttering to himself: ”To hell with everything.”

When Benedict had gotten back from a long walk hours later that same evening he had thrown himself on his bed face first without looking and he had landed on something hard. He groaned and reached under him to get a hold of the item — one of his old sketchbooks that had probably been scattered somewhere in the house collecting dust. With a deep sigh he had haphazardly discarded it on the floor, and a little folded note fell out with his name on it. As he unfolded it he had studied the neatly written words, a handwriting he hadn’t recognized:

”If you hear a voice within you say you cannot paint, then by all means paint and that voice will be silenced. – Vincent Van Gogh in a letter to his brother Theo Van Gogh October 28, 1883.

Benedict, don’t let Anthony tell you what you can and cannot do. Don’t let his voice be your own.” 

.........

Penelope woke up when the first rays of dawn seeped through the large industrial windows in their bedroom, cursing herself for not closing the curtains when they went to bed — to be fair they had been engaged in other activities. Heat was now enveloping her, Benedict’s strong arm was flung over her waist and his front was pressed against her back. She could feel every hard line of his body, how his chest moved as he breathed — his hot breath dampening the back of her head. This was heaven, and she had no intention of breaking the spell just yet. 

She felt safe and at peace in his arms, a feeling she wasn’t accustomed to but here with Benedict she was finally home. The thoughts of last night's party came unbiddenly to mind, how that woman had been able to point at all her insecurities but what warmed her heart was how Benedict had defended her, stood by her and only her. She would do anything for him just like he would do anything for her.

Penelope rolled around to face him, being careful to not wake him up — he needed sleep. He had looked so exhausted when she got to the club last night and she knew that the past week had been draining for him. As she watched him deep in slumber she wondered what she had done in her past life to be this lucky — to be able to be this close to him, to love him, and be loved by him. 

With one finger she drew small circles around the freckles on his bare chest, tentatively letting it trail up to his left collarbone and shoulder. She traced the outlines of his black and white tattoo that stretched from his shoulder and down his left arm, featuring a quote of Van Gogh that curved its way in between and around a cascade of sunflowers. A small smile grew on her face as she remembered the day she had first seen it, when she walked in on Benedict changing in her bedroom. She had quickly diverted her gaze to the floor and started to back away as she apologized profusely for not knocking — cheeks burning hot.

Everything had been so new at the time and she had felt insecure about how to tread forward in their newfound relationship. Benedict had of course assured her that it was okay as he had slung his arm around her waist from behind and pulled her to him. That was when she noticed it, how the flowers and letters made their way up his arm. She had recognized the quote from years ago when she had overheard Anthony and Benedict argue and how distraught Benedict was. When she had found his sketchbook in the library that evening she wanted to do something nice for him and as they had been studying the great artist masters in school at the time she thought that a quote was a good idea. 

This was a fact she hadn’t disclosed until she visited him in London during Christmas and she had seen her note framed and hanging on the wall in his studio. When she had asked him about it later that day, he had told her how much that quote had meant to him. It hadn’t changed the trajectory of his life overnight but it had made him think and pushed him to continue his studies at Cambridge. When she had told him that she was the one who wrote it he had broken down in tears. They had made love for the first time that night.

As Penelope now continued trailing her fingers up his throat she snuggled into him — letting her head rest in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply. His scent -musk, wood and all man with small traces of paint - invaded her very being, and her body reacted instinctively. Penelope squirmed and squeezed her thighs together in an attempt to relieve the ache a little. At that point Benedict stirred beside her and pulled her closer to him with his strong arms, mumbling something intangible into her hair. 

Several moments passed but in Benedict’s warm embrace it only felt like mere minutes. The sun had now mostly disappeared behind clouds and beautiful shadows were dancing on the dark green walls of their bedroom. Benedict had fallen back into a deep sleep and before she fully untangled herself from him she braced on one arm and gave him a soft kiss on his nose.

Penelope rose from the bed and pulled a white sheet around herself, covering her naked body, as she tiptoed on the dark wooden floors to the en suite bathroom. This was one of her favorite parts of the apartment — all gray tiles with wooden cabinets and black details. She had been here many times before the past year, taking long baths in the large built-in tub or a refreshing shower with or without Benedict. This also meant that she already had everything she needed here, a full set of make-up and other toiletries. Benedict had insisted upon it because he wanted her to really feel at home here. 

As she watched her reflection in the mirror a hand fell to her lower stomach — she was about two weeks late. But she hadn’t noticed until a couple of days ago when she cleaned out all her cabinets and found a box of tampons. All the stress regarding the move could be the reason, it wouldn’t be the first time, but something felt different. The probability of her being pregnant wasn’t zero, she was on the pill but they hadn’t used condoms for months. 

“Everything will be fine regardless and if you’re pregnant Benedict will be happy,” Penelope whispered to herself as she started to brush her teeth. Her mind was racing, she didn’t know exactly how she felt about it but at the same time if she ever were to have children she wanted it to be together with Benedict. In her heart she also knew that whatever happened Benedict would support her and he would love to become a father, he had told her as much. At the same time doubt crept in — what if it’s too soon? The whole family didn’t even know about their relationship yet, what would they think? 

Penelope sighed, trying to ground herself, as she untangled her hair and put it up in a messy bun on top of her head before she washed her face. Feeling more refreshed she then carefully went back to the bedroom, trying her hardest to not make the floor creak and wake Benedict as she made her way to the walking closet. She gasped and her heart skipped a beat, when she entered as it seemed that Benedict had been busy making room for her, all his clothes had been moved to one side. There were only a few dresses hanging in her part of the closet, she had left them here on one of her visits — the rest of her clothes and belongings would be arriving on Monday. 

She let her fingers trail over Benedict’s clothes, and she took one of his blue button-ups from its hanger as she let the sheet, still wrapped around her, fall to the floor. The shirt was way too long for her, it looked more like a dress but it smelled like Benedict and she loved the feeling of wearing his clothes. 

She walked back into their bedroom where Benedict was still sleeping and laying on his stomach with a sheet covering the lower part of his magnificent body. For a minute Penelope stood in the doorway admiring him and she couldn’t believe he was hers just as much as she was his. She smiled to herself, she was happy. 

.........

A few months before Edmund passed away Penelope and Eloise had been in a fight regarding who was the rightful owner of “The House of Arden”, a book that meant a lot to the both of them. Eloise had claimed that she had been given it by her father while Penelope knew that it was hers as it had the same stain on page 5 that she accidentally had made when she dropped a piece of chocolate in it the first time she had read it. And in truth, it had been Penelope’s but Eloise was too proud to admit that she was in the wrong, so instead she had gone and insulted Penelope by calling her yellow dress with white bunnies ugly. As a result Penelope had fled the room with tears streaming down her face. When Edmund had found her 20 minutes later sobbing under a table in the library he had been livid and Eloise had been grounded.

“It’s okay, little dove.” He had tried to soothe her and hugged her tightly while she continued to cry — his shirt getting wet by her tears. “Ben and I had planned to visit The National Gallery today, do you want to come with us?” 

Penelope had only been able to give him a small nod against his chest, still sniffling and curled up in his embrace. Edmund stroked her hair and let her calm down before they had called on Benedict. And at the gallery Benedict had held her hand as they walked through the different rooms containing paintings made by all the great masters. He had at times twirled her as she skipped around and they laughed wholeheartedly — all her tears from before had been long forgotten. 

Penelope had seen how excited Benedict was as he dragged them from room to room talking vividly about every new piece they passed by. It was only in room 43 that he became quiet and somber. He stopped in front of “Long Grass with Butterflies” and his eyes welled up a bit. Penelope had been holding Edmund’s hand at that moment but she let it go, instead she had walked up to Benedict and put her small hand in his. He had stiffened at first but then relaxed and had given her a little squeeze. 

“The reason I always get sad when looking at this painting is because at the time it was made Van Gogh was admitted to a psychiatric hospital. His life was filled with pain but many of his works are still colorful and they give joy to so many people but at the same time you can see his struggles depicted in his works,” Benedict whispered, not so much to her but to himself. 

Penelope had stood there with her crystal blue eyes, not fully grasping what Benedict had said but she understood that this was something that meant a lot to him. Edmund had come up to them and she had heard him whisper to Benedict: “Everything will be fine, Ben. Always keep true to yourself.” Penelope had seen something in Edmund’s eyes then, but it was years later that she had realized that Edmund had known that he wouldn’t survive. He had been aware that he would never get to see his children grow up but at this precise moment he had only felt pride for the way his second son had shown a little girl the world of art.

.........

The rich and familiar smell of freshly brewed coffee assaulted his nostrils as Benedict stirred awake. The bed felt cold and he rolled to his side as he opened his eyes — disappointment filled him when he realized that he was alone. He could hear soft music streaming in through the ajar wooden door and he rose quickly, threw on a discarded black t-shirt and a pair of new boxers as he hurriedly brushed his teeth. 

He stopped at the top of the landing overlooking the spacious living area, joint kitchen and living room, all with dark modern features and black steel beams in the ceiling, and he could see that she had lit the hearth in the fireplace. Watching Penelope dance around in the kitchen below, late morning light from the large windows enveloping her, he felt blessed to be able to see her like this  — she really was the most beautiful woman in the world. This was the woman he had fallen in love with over the course of the past year and he knew that this was it for him. She had been there for him even in times he didn't know it was her, she had secretly cheered him on. 

Benedict remembered the first Christmas after his father had passed and there had been one small gift under the tree addressed to him but not who it was from. When he had opened it his siblings had stared at it and not given it a second thought, it was a keychain resembling a small paint brush. Even if he hadn’t known who it was from he had kept it on his keys from that day on. When Penelope had seen it she had told him that she had been the one that had bought it for him. She had seen it that day at the gallery and decided that she wanted to give it to him because he had been so nice to her and talked to her, not as a dumb child but as an equal. He had shown her kindness when so few ever did. Benedict cherished that small gift even more after that as that day at the gallery had been the last time he had visited it with his father and to know that he shared that moment with Penelope meant the world to him. 

Benedict was happy that his father had met the woman he was going to share his life with, but it also made him sad because Edmund would never get to see the woman she had become or meet their future children. As he, now with a smile on his face, watched Penelope sway her hips around in the kitchen with her vibrant hair on top of her head, he knew that this woman would most definitely be the mother of his children. He started to descend the dark wooden stairs swiftly and made his way to her through the living room and as he came up behind her he put an arm around her waist.

“Good morning darling!” He kissed her on the cheek and pulled her back against him. “I can get used to waking up to this every morning for the rest of my life.” 

“Oh Ben, you startled me.”

“I’m sorry, that was not my intention, my love.” Benedict splayed his fingers over her waist as he leaned forward and kissed the crook of her neck. Letting one hand slide down her thigh.

“Ben, I’m making breakfast.”

“I can see that but I’m starving for something else entirely,” he breathed into her ear and nibbed at her earlobe making her shiver. One of his hands stroked up and down her side, gripping her hip to pull her flush against him. “I love when you are wearing my clothes. You look so sexy.” 

Penelope let out an involuntary moan and Benedict smirked as his hand slid down again but this time in between her thighs. “You’re being naughty, my angel. You’re not wearing any knickers.” His boxers were starting to feel too tight, his growing erection was throbbing and his hips jerked forward pushing his still clad bulge up against her perfectly plush ass. “I love every inch of you. God, I need you!” 

“Ben!” Penelope whimpered as she melted into him and he could feel how her heart was pounding even from the back. His left hand trailed up her inner thigh and as he reached her mound she squirmed. 

“Still sore after last night?”

“Mhm.” She nodded. “But please…”

“Please what?”

“Don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

His fingers traced her folds and they parted with ease after a little light pressure. “Nel, you’re dripping!” Benedict found her nub making circular motions around it with two fingers and she arched into him — her breaths coming in unevenly. He kept up the pace adding a little more pressure as his other hand cupped one of her breasts under her shirt. ”These are the most beautiful breasts I have ever seen and felt in my life. Penelope!”

Her head fell back resting on his chest and he bucked against her, panting in her ear. “I’m gonna make you come over and over, darling. This floor is going to be so wet and slippery when I’m done.”

“Ben, please I need…”

“What do you need?”

“I need…oh God…I need more…Ben please.”

“You’re begging so nicely for me but you need to come first. Then I’m going to fuck you so hard. You want that? You want me to take you here bent over the counter?”

“Oh God, yes please yes!”

His ministrations quickened and he could feel that she was close in the way her body was vibrating.  And as he pushed two fingers inside her, she fluttered around them, and he kept circling her clit with his thumb. When the first orgasm ripped through her like a tidal wave, she screamed and her knees gave out. Benedict held her up but didn’t let her calm down, instead he maneuvered her so she was leaning against the kitchen island with her beautiful bare ass presented to him. With a swift motion he ripped his boxers down, took a firm grip on her hips and slowly entered her dripping cunt. 

“Oh, good lord! You’re so wet and so damn tight.” He growled as she let out a loud moan and pushed herself back against him, squeezing him hard. ”Bloody hell, Penelope! This will be over soon if you keep doing that.”

“Harder! Honey, please fuck me hard.”

Benedict pounded ruthlessly into her, sweat beading at his temples as he placed a hand on her back pushing her down over the counter — the room filled with their ragged breaths, and the sounds of their bodies colliding. He placed his hands on the marble as he leaned over her, crowded her with his body, and kissed her neck — hips snapping hard against her. But suddenly he stopped, pulled out and Penelope whined in frustration: 

“No, honey! Ben, please more…I need more.”

Benedict didn’t answer her, instead he turned her around, gave her his lopsided smile and ripped her shirt open — buttons flying everywhere and her breast bounced as they were no longer contained. He leaned down and took one nipple in his mouth, letting his tongue play with it and when he graced it with his teeth she gasped. Penelope wrapped her arms round his neck to steady herself while he let his hands grip her ass tightly, probably leaving bruises on her alabaster skin. When she whimpered he quickly looked up — their eyes locking and he straightened, letting go of her nipple with a poop. Without even taking a breath he pressed his lips to hers in a heated kiss, his tongue begging for entry and as she let him in he took a firm hold of her thighs and lifted her up onto the counter — making her squeal when her naked bottom met the cold surface. Benedict positioned himself between her legs, letting them lock around his waist as he entered her once more — both groaned in delight.

Benedict was normally a gentle lover, that was what he preferred where he could take his time, but he knew that Penelope loved this when he simply let go of every inhibition and fucked her hard. Penelope now braced herself on her arms and watched him push himself inside her wet and needy cunt over and over again — her whole body was quivering. The sounds echoing were almost obscene, skin meeting skin mixed with their loud moans, and Benedict could feel how his balls were tightening. He leaned forward, took a firm grip of her hair as he kissed her soundly — their tongues tangled and danced against each other. 

“I love you so much, Penelope. You’re so fucking gorgeous like this, sweaty and so damn wet for me. You’re mine. You know that right?” 

“Yes, Ben.” 

“Say it, Nel. Say that you’re mine.” He growled as he set a merciless pace.

“I’m yours, Ben. Only yours.” Penelope cried out.

“Oh God, I won’t last much longer. Come for me, Nel.” Benedict put an arm in between them and pressed two fingers to her clit, circling it and making her scream in pure pleasure.   

“Oh God, Ben! I’m gonna…I’m gonna come.”

“Yes, Penelope. Come…Come for me.”

Liquid dripped down on the floor beneath them as Penelope came, arching off the counter and Benedict put his arms around her back pulling her against him as he continued to pump into her — her nails digging into his shoulders making him growl in her ear. Her cunt pulsated around his hard cock and she squeezed him as he bottomed out one last time before his release ran through his body, filling her up with his hot cum. He sagged down on the floor, his back against the cabinets and with her in his lap — both breathless, sweaty, and totally spent.

“I love you, Ben.” Penelope whispered in his ear as she rested her head on his shoulder. 

“I love you so much, Nel,” he said softly as he nestled his face in her damp hair and kissed her on top of her head.

They sat tangled together on the floor for a long time until he lightly patted her on the behind. “Darling, go upstairs and take a shower while I clean up here.“

“Are you sure? I was making breakfast and as it seems it is now all ruined.”

“I’m definitely not complaining and we can buy some breakfast.” Benedict chuckled, hugged her to his chest before they both stood up and he pulled up his boxers again. And as he watched her go he smiled and leaned against the kitchen island for a couple of minutes before he started to clean up after them. 

When Benedict was finished he heard his phone buzzing somewhere in the hallway and he quickly realized that he had several missed calls from his mother and a lot of unread texts. 

Saturday 11am:
Anthony to Benedict Ant: I think you two need to hurry and tell everyone. Mom has been on me since I woke up as she wanted to know details regarding you and Abigail. 

Sighing deeply, Benedict typed a quick message back to his brother.

Ben: We plan on telling everyone tomorrow at Sunday brunch. 

Ant: I don’t know if that will be soon enough. Look at the family chat if you haven’t already.

Benedict groaned and cursed. He loved his family but why couldn’t they stay out of his life, why did they have to meddle? He threw his arms up in the air as he slumped down on the plush velvet couch. He stared into the flames dancing in the fireplace and took a deep breath before he read through the family chat.

Saturday 3am:
The Alphabet-chat 

Hy the almighty: Did anyone else see who Ben left with? 

Greg ⚽️: No, who? Was it the blonde woman?

Hy the almighty: Nope, definitely not.

Fran 🎵: I think I know. 

Col ✈️: I definitely know.

Greg ⚽️: Can someone please tell me?

El 📘: Who cares?

Hy the almighty: I think you will care. And Fran and Col, how did you find out?

Col ✈️: I saw them.

Fran 🎵: Ben wasn’t very discreet.

El 📘: Oh for fuck sake no one cares. 

Daph 🌸: I want to know. Mom texted me saying that everything had seemed to have gone well with Abigail. Didn’t he take her home?

Hy the almighty: Nope, not that bitch. 

Anthony Bridgerton: Hyacinth, language please! And for the record Benedict will tell us when they are ready so just go to bed it’s almost 3:30 in the morning.

Daph 🌸: Anthony, what do you mean “they will tell us”? Do we know her/him/them? 

Anthony Bridgerton: Enough for tonight.

Benedict threw his phone on the couch and made his way upstairs taking two steps at the time. And as he stormed through the bedroom and into the bathroom he could hear the shower turning off. He leaned against the doorframe and as he saw her coming out, droplets of water trailing down her divine body and smelling like a meadow in spring, he could feel all the stress dissipate.

“Hi beautiful.” Benedict smirked with a click of his tongue and her head snapped up to meet his gaze with a smile on her lips. 

“Hi.” Penelope answered softly but frowned a little as she pulled a towel around herself. “What is it?” 

“What do you mean?”

“I can see that you have something stirring in here.” She sauntered over to him, put a hand on his chest and a finger on his temple. He leaned into her touch. “Has something happened, Ben?”

“No, nothing serious but apparently Hy saw us leaving the club early this morning and she wrote a cryptic message in the family group chat. Fran also seems to know.” A little gasp came from Penelope but Benedict wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “It was shut down by Ant but we have to tell everyone because soon Mother will know that I was seen leaving with someone and I think she will interpret it as that I left with that woman.”

“Ok, Anthony and Colin definitely know and probably Kate as well. Hy and Fran suspects. I want us to tell Eloise first. I don’t want her feeling ambushed.”

“Yes, that's probably a good idea. My thought was to tell everyone tomorrow at Sunday brunch but maybe we can tell El today?”

“I’ll call her and ask her to meet me at the café on the corner.”

Penelope trembled against him and he put a finger under her chin, making her look at him as he leaned down and kissed her languidly. Benedict stroked up and down her back and he could feel her relax. “Everything will be fine, Nel.”

“I know, Ben. I’m just a little nervous about telling her. But for now you need to take a shower. You stink,” she chuckled and started to pull away. He slapped her lightly on her ass when she turned to walk out of the bathroom. “Could you also put away my necklace and the earrings in the safe?”

Benedict smiled over his shoulder and gave her a nod while picking up the jewelry from the bathroom counter. With them in hand, he took them into the walk in closet where he…they had the safe. As he put the necklace and earrings down he brushed over the small crimson box with one hand murmuring to himself: “Not yet, but soon.” 

.........

Penelope was pacing the living room, the blue dress was swishing around her legs, when Benedict came down the stairs about 40 minutes later and he quickly embraced her in an attempt to calm her.

“What if she gets angry at me?” She asked, burying her face in his dark gray shirt.  

“For one, it will be me she’s angry at. But if she gets pissy just remind her that she kept Phillip a secret from all of us for about 1.5 years.” 

Unexpectedly the doorbell rang, startling them both and Benedict looked at her in confusion. “Weren’t we supposed to meet at the café?”

“Yes, and in about an hour.”

Benedict reluctantly let go of Penelope as he made his way down the hallway passing his studio, remembering that he had to show her what he had done to the room. He hoped that she would like that he had split the room into two, by putting up a glass wall with a black frame and double doors in the middle. One side would be her study and the other part would be his studio. He loved this part of the apartment and he could paint here for hours at the time. The natural light pouring in through the large windows that made the light bend and cast beautiful shadows throughout the room — it was magnificent. 

Before he reached for the door he looked back at Penelope and gave her a reassuring smile that whoever was on the other side would not change anything between them — they were one. With a deep breath he opened the door and there before him stood Eloise.

“Hi Ben. I’m gonna meet Pen downstairs in an hour but you forgot this book at my place last time you were the…Penelope?”

Penelope stepped out from behind Benedict and searched for his hand which he gave her without question. Eloise didn’t seem to notice the familiar intimacy between them. 

“Why are you here, Pen?”

“Come in and we’ll explain everything.”

“Explain what? Why are you at Ben's?”

Benedict could feel the tension rising and he squeezed Penelope’s hand. Eloise’s gaze flickered between the two of them, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Let’s make some tea and talk.” Benedict tried to defuse the situation.

“No, talk now. Why are you here, Pen?”

“El, come sit and we’ll explain,” Penelope said as she gestured with her hand in the direction of the living room. 

“This is the second time you have said we. What do you mean by that?” Eloise frowned and Benedict could see the exact moment she connected the dots. “Oh my God. You’re the one that Hy saw Ben leave with. Pen, why the hell would you sleep with one of my brothers? Couldn’t you just choose someone else?”

Benedict ushered a half screaming Eloise into the apartment, he didn’t want her to disturb the neighbours. He should have known that she would react like this. 

“Ben, how the fuck could you shag MY best friend? What’s wrong with you? Why can’t you ever keep it in your pants? What about Abigail?”

“El, first of all this was not some shag. This is serious.”

“Bullshit you don’t do serious, Ben. Pen doesn’t need you fucking up her first night in London.”

“Listen! That’s enough.” Benedict raised his voice and pinned his sister with a hard stare as he pulled Penelope into his side, putting a hand on the small of her back — trying to ground himself and reassure her that he would not let anything happen to her. “I love her, El. And Penelope loves me. We’ve been together for almost a year now. I’ve been going back and forth between London and Edinburgh. And now that she has moved back, she’ll be living here. With me.”

Eloise fell silent for a long moment as she stared at them with eyes filled with questions and total disbelief. Suddenly she stiffened and shook her head.

“No, I don’t believe it. Mom was right, she needs to help you.”

“El, it’s true.” Penelope said calmly as Benedict could feel his frustration pouring through him.

“Pen, no. This is not happening. Why the hell would you go behind my back? You are supposed to be my best friend but apparently you just wanted to fuck my brother.”

“Eloise Bridgerton! You have no right to talk to her that way. Yes, we kept it a secret because this was the first fucking good thing to happen to us in years and we wanted it to be just the two of us for a while. We have tried to tell you all since Christmas but there was always something new with the family.” Benedict roared, making Eloise take a small step back. 

“You're full of bullshit, Ben. You claim to love Pen, then why the hell did you send flowers to Abigail? She has posted a story about you two.”

“What the fuck do you mean? I haven’t sent her any damn flowers.”

“Oh, so she is lying? Look here.” She shoved her phone into Benedict’s hand and as he looked at it he was met with a picture of Abigail and himself. And in another photo a beautiful bundle of flowers with a caption stating:  “From my secret love.” 

“I didn’t send them. I spent the night with Penelope.” Benedict declared and searched Penelope’s eyes for any doubt. To his relief he couldn’t find any and Penelope leaned against him as she whispered.

“I know, Ben. It’s okay, we'll figure it out. I love you.”

“I love you too, darling Nel.” Benedict kissed the top of her head. 

“Oh for fuck sake. I’m still here and I’m still mad at you both but what will you do about this?”

“I don’t know.” Benedict said with a deep sigh as he pulled Penelope closer. Even if he didn’t know what he would do about Abigail, one thing was for sure he would never let anything or anyone hurt Penelope. 

Chapter Text

Penelope bent over the toilet emptying all of her stomach’s contents into it, her hair damp, sweat sticking to her forehead, and hanging in long stripes over her shoulders and down her back. She had been awake for over an hour and the sun hadn’t even risen yet — she was exhausted. Sitting on the cold tile floor she sobbed as she heard Benedict’s hurried steps coming closer, she had tried to be as quiet as possible because she didn’t want him to see her like this. 

“Oh God, Penelope! What’s wrong?” Benedict’s voice was hoarse from sleep, but also laced with worry, when he came rushing into the bathroom and falling to his knees beside her. He placed a warm palm on her back stroking it soothingly as he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Here let me help you, darling.”

“Ben,” she whispered as she hurled once more before she collapsed into his arms. He let her rest her head on his shoulder — she was fully drained and her already pale skin was stark white. 

“Darling?” Benedict asked tentatively and tilted his head in an attempt to look at her but she buried her face in the crook of his neck instead. “Please Nel, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry," she sniffled. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.” 

“No, Nel. Don’t you dare apologise for that. It’s my job to take care of you.” He sat down on the floor and drew her onto his lap, kissing her on her forehead repeatedly. “We ate the same last night. Have you eaten something else or is it some bug?”

Penelope shook her head and let herself melt into his protective embrace, his arms tightening around her even more. She was fairly certain that this was not some normal stomach bug or something she ate, this felt different. What she wasn’t sure about was how Benedict would react to her suspicion, but after almost a year as a couple she knew that he probably would be happy. They had talked about children and how they both saw themselves becoming parents someday, but no matter how hard she tried to calm her spiraling mind doubt was ever present. What if he doesn’t want this? What if this doesn’t work out? 

”Penelope, you’re trembling. Please tell me what’s wrong.” Benedict put a finger under her chin and as their eyes met he gave her a small smile but she quickly averted her eyes. She hated herself for being like this, for doubting his devotion to her. Years of therapy had taught her that she deserved to be cherished and to be loved, but the demons that still inhabited her mind, often having the voice of her mother, told her a different story. She was a woman that people liked to have fun with and it was good to have her around but the moment she was of no use she would easily be discarded. Her worth was measured in how much she could give to others and how much they would gain. Benedict had shown her time and time again that he was here to stay and that he would always put her above everything. As a tear escaped she felt like she wanted to hide, but when he cradled her cheek with one of his large palms all tension disappeared — she leaned into his touch and with a sigh she whispered:

“I think I might be pregnant. I was going to tell you yesterday but after everything with Eloise and the Instagram post it slipped my mind.”

It was true; Eloise had been upset after finding out about their relationship but Benedict had been firm with her. He had made it abundantly clear that she had the right to feel whatever she felt but she didn’t get to dictate who he loved. When Eloise had left hours later, she had done so in a somewhat friendly manner but with a tinge of irritation over the fact that she now had to share Penelope with one more of her brothers. Benedict reassured her that Eloise would come around. After that the afternoon had gone by in a blur with Benedict calling Anthony to ask him for help with Abigail and they had agreed to talk more about it during Sunday brunch at Bridgerton House. 

“You’re pregnant?” Benedict chuckled warmly with a smile that lit up his whole countenance and the crows feet around his eyes, that she loved, became even more protruding.

“I don’t know. I’m two weeks late, so there is a possibility that I am, but it can be something else as well. I’ve been under a lot of stress with the move.”

“It’s after seven so the store should be open.” Benedict loosened his hold on her and they rose from the floor together. “I will run down and grab some tests while you relax. When I get back I will draw you a warm bath, my darling.”

“Ben, you’re not mad?” Penelope turned away from him, and she leaned on the bathroom counter avoiding looking in the mirror as she felt his gaze burn into her back. Benedict walked up behind her putting one hand on each side of her, crowding her.  

“Mad? Madly in love, definitely, but…why would I ever be mad?” He asked in confusion and rested his chin on her head. “Penelope, if you’re pregnant I will be the happiest man alive. You know that you are my heart and my everything.”

“I love you,” she breathed. 

“Good and I love you too. Now will you let me run to the store?” As she nodded he tilted his head forward and gave her a peck on her cheek before he left the room in a haste. While she freshened up she could hear him whirl around in the bedroom and when she emerged she guffawed, stopping Benedict dead in his tracks on his way out.

”What?”

”Are you going to the store like that? Aren’t you missing something?” Benedict looked at her bewildered as she gestured with her hand to his pantsless legs. ”Trousers would be a good idea, I think. We don’t want you ending up in the tabloids…again.”

Benedict gave her a hard stare but there was no real heat behind it and he quickly grabbed the sweatpants laying on the armchair in the corner. As he left she put on some leggings and changed out of her night shirt into an oversized t-shirt that had been Benedict’s at some point. Her mind was still reeling, but it had calmed a bit and she busied herself by making the bed and cleaning up before she headed down to the kitchen to prepare a light breakfast. It was no point in eating something heavy as they would be going to Bridgerton brunch in a couple of hours. 

About half an hour later she was curdled up on the couch with a cup of tea and a warm blanket over her lap — rain smattering against the windows and wind howling. 

“That seems cosy. May I join?” Benedict startled her a little, she had been deep in thought, and she hadn’t heard him come in. Her gaze found him and he lowered himself in front of her as he took one of her small hands in his. “I bought three tests. If you don’t want to do them now, we can wait. We have all the time in the world.”

“We’re going to brunch today.” She smiled at him.

“Yes, but you are not allowed to stress about that or anything else for that matter.”

“Ben, we don’t know if I’m pregnant yet.”

“Regardless, I forbid the love of my life to be anything but happy and content. And to help you get in the right mindset I can disclose that I did forget to put on my shoes before I left, so my feet are now extremely cold and still a bit wet even though I discarded the socks.” 

“Oh my God, Benedict!” She raised her eyebrows, shaking her head in disbelief, wondering who was in possession of the Bridgerton brain cell because it clearly wasn’t Benedict. And as she rose from the couch she gave him a kiss on the nose and proceeded to drag him with her up the stairs. Penelope didn’t want to wait anymore, she needed to know. And just a few minutes later both of them stood bent over the counter staring at three tests with two very distinctive lines on each of them — she was pregnant.

When the initial shock dissipated Benedict took her into his arms as he twirled them both around laughing and kissing her senseless over and over again making her giggle. In that moment, nothing would be able to hurt them or come between them. 

“I love you, Nel. We’re gonna be parents.” Benedict panted, out of breath from all the excitement. And as he let go of her he fell to his knees before her, kissing her stomach and whispering. “We’re going to have a little dove of our own.” 

“Yes, we are.” Penelope’s voice cracked, tears streaming down her face. Benedict's use of the pet name that Edmund had bestowed on her meant a lot, and he had at times called her that as well. 

“Hey darling, what’s wrong?” Benedict put his arms around her waist and pulled her close. “Did I say something?”

“No, it’s just when you called our baby ‘little dove’ it reminded me that Edmund will not be here.”

Benedict didn’t say anything, he simply held on to her as he nestled his face into her stomach. She knew he was crying too as she could feel her t-shirt getting wet, and she stroked his hair in a calm motion. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I love you so much my darling. You don’t have to apologize. My father might not be here to witness it, but I have you and soon I will have this little bundle of joy. I miss him every day but I know he would be proud.” Benedict stood up and cradled her face in his palms and kissed her sweetly. “Now my love, you're going to take a long bath.” 

”Will you join me?”

“I definitely want to, but I will save that for another day as we both need to be at brunch in about one and a half hours.” 

As Penelope sank down in the perfectly tempered bath ten minutes later, flowery scent enveloping her and the warmth of the water making all her aching muscles relax, she couldn’t help but smile. She must be the luckiest woman alive to have Benedict as her boyfriend and the father of her future child.

.........

The summer after Edmund had passed Penelope had spent it with the Bridgertons at Aubrey Hall, but nothing had been quite the same. Violet was nowhere to be seen, locked away in her own room with baby Hyacinth, who had been born about a month earlier. Penelope filled her days with small attempts of being a comfort for her friends, she wanted to see them smile and laugh again but she had tread carefully so as to not be too overbearing. She was used to being called too much and therefore she had mastered the art of making herself small, to not be seen or heard — to not disturb the peace.

Laughter - according to her mother, the devil’s language - was only heard in the Featherington House as an insult. That had never been the case at the Bridgertons, they had always been synonymous with laughter and love. Yes, they fought like all families do but they loved each other freely and openly. This had been something special to Penelope, who had never known that a family could be this close with one another. Every memory she had with them meant the world to her and she cherished them all.

One sunny afternoon she walked the grounds of Aubrey Hall and watched as Anthony and Benedict tried teaching their young siblings the fine game of Pall Mall. The looming clouds of heartbreak were ever present in all of their countenances but this was the first time all of them had done something together after their father’s death. Penelope had made herself scarce as she hadn’t wanted to intrude, even if she was only eight she had understood that this was a moment the siblings needed with each other. She had watched them from afar and when Anthony had slipped on the edge of the lake and landed in a mud puddle laughter had been heard around Aubrey Hall again. It hadn’t been as joyful as before but it had been cathartic for all involved and to witness the day some happiness returned to the family was something she had never forgotten. 

The only one that had missed this was Violet, and of course little Hyacinth, but Penelope knew that a part of Violet had died the day Edmund did. Penelope had decided that she wanted to do something for her and that is how she found herself walking the rows of the pink peonies the very next day. She had seen Benedict walk down the same path a couple a minutes before with a sketchbook under his arm and when they met she asked:

“Are you drawing the pretty flowers?” 

“No, I can’t seem to draw anymore. They are pretty but what comes out of me is anything but.” Benedict was somber with his shoulders slumped and his mouth pressed in a thin line. 

“I don’t believe that.”

“Why are you out here? You are not supposed to walk this far from the house, Penelope.”

“I wanted to pick some flowers for Mrs. Bridgerton and these are my favorites. I don’t know what they are called but I saw them last year and liked them. I thought she might too.” Suddenly shy, she stared down at her yellow shoes and shifted a little back and forth on the balls of her feet. “It’s a dumb idea I should just…”

“No, Penelope, I think it’s a wonderful idea.” Benedict had taken her hand in his then and squeezed it for reassurance. “And they are called peonies, little dove.” 

The pet name made her pause no one except Edmund had called her that and she sniffled. “I miss him.” 

“So do I.” She had felt how his body became rigid and seen how he had tried to hold back his tears by blinking furiously. 

“It’s okay to cry when you’re sad. I do,” she whispered and his resolve broke as he had let a tear run down his cheek. She had kept holding his hand, just like the day at the gallery.

After a moment Benedict had helped her pick the prettiest flowers and together they had made their way back to the house where he had led her to Violet's room. Penelope had knocked lightly on the door, expecting it to stay closed but to both hers and Benedict’s surprise Violet had opened it. When she had presented her with the flowers, Violet had taken her in her arms and held her like a lifeline while she had whispered:

“Thank you, darling girl.” 

Benedict had stood in the doorway observing and Violet had looked at her boy as she held out a hand to him. “And thank you for being a good big brother.” 

Penelope hadn’t seen Violet for weeks after that day but every other day she left a fresh bundle of flowers outside her door. They never spoke about it as the years passed but Penelope knew that it had meant something to her as every birthday Violet would send a little bouquet of pink peonies to her, even during the years she lived in Edinburgh. 

The day Benedict had come to visit her the first time he had brought a bouquet of pink peonies, to her surprise. When she had pointed it out to him, he had explained that he had remembered that day at Aubrey Hall when she had told him about the prettiest flower. Benedict had therefore wanted to give them to her as a token because she was the prettiest one of them all. 

.........

Benedict and Penelope arrived at Bridgerton House, perfectly on time for the weekly Bridgerton brunch. They stepped inside but before they even got into the foyer fully Anthony came rushing to meet them with a serious countenance, which in itself wasn’t alarming as that was how his brother often looked, but Benedict could see that there was something else in his dark hazel eyes.

“Has something happened, brother?” Benedict inquired quickly. 

“I’m sorry. I tried to stop her but she wouldn’t listen. I sent you a message, Ben.”

“What do you mean?” Benedict was confused as he pulled out his phone but at that exact moment Abigail’s shrill voice rang out from the dining room. His gaze snapped up in an instant meeting Anthony’s — anger surging through his now rigid body. 

What was wrong with this woman? Hadn’t he made himself clear?

Benedict could feel Penelope shifting uncomfortably beside him and he let a protective hand rest on the small of her back, in an attempt to ground her and himself, as he glanced down at her. The beautiful smile she had borne since this morning was now gone, her whole demeanor had changed — shoulders slumped and tears beginning to form in the corners of her crystal blue eyes. He knew that there would be a confrontation today — they both did. 

“Why is she here, Anthony?”

“Mother insisted. I tried telling her that you had some exciting news to share and at that she beamed and invited her. I couldn’t have stopped her even if the Devil himself ascended from hell.”

“This is already hell and has always been.”

“Ben.” Penelope put a hand on one of his biceps, probably in an attempt to calm him with her soft touch. “It will be alright.”

“Of course it will because this madness ends now!” He took Penelope’s hand in his and with long strides they walked towards the dining room. In his mind this was war and he would do anything to protect Penelope from harm. 

Every high note of Abigail’s voice made his skin crawl. He wasn’t a person that was prone of hating people, he always tried finding something good in everyone, but this woman was an exception — he hated her. Furthermore, he couldn’t believe that his mother once again had gone behind his back. And as they now entered the room, filled with every single one of his siblings, their partners and children, Abigail was the first to spot them.

“Darling, you are here,” she beamed, sauntering over to him. Benedict's eyes went dark in an all consuming fury, and they were only one match away from an inferno.

“Stop,” Benedict roared as everyone in the room froze mid-motion and slowly turned their heads in his direction.

“Benedict dear, what’s the matter?” Violet asked in concern but he didn’t answer. Instead he looked to Anthony, who had entered behind them, and gave him a slight nod. “Anthony, I need someone to take all the kids out of here now. I don’t want them to hear anything of what I have to say.”

With the stands of a senior general, preparing his troops for battle, Anthony fixed his gaze on Hyacinth and Gregory and barked their orders. “Take all of the children into the kitchen for ice cream, now!”

“But we want to hear this as well,” both of them complained in unison but they knew from experience that it was fruitless and started to gather their nieces and nephews. It was only Charlotte that got to stay but Kate rose from her seat at the table and rolled the stroller into the adjoining sunroom so that the sleeping little bundle wouldn’t be disturbed. As she got back Benedict locked eyes with her and he could see the silent appreciation radiating from her together with her full support of what was going to happen. 

In the midst of the chaos Violet stood regal beside a nervous looking Abigail and after everyone had settled she inquired: “Can someone now explain what is going on here? Benedict, why are you demanding the children to leave? 

“Because what I’m about to say is not something I want small kids to hear. I want to be able to speak freely.” Benedict inhaled sharply and sought out Penelope’s hand for comfort, something she willingly gave. “I want this insane woman to leave as I have news to share, that I have been dying to tell you all and I don’t want this lying bitch here when I do so.” 

“Benedict Bridgerton! What on earth has gotten into you?” Violet exclaimed, in shock over his words. In his periphery he saw some of his siblings and their significant others exchanging questioning looks, they all knew that Benedict never cursed in front of Violet on a normal day, so this was most definitely not a normal day. And as his raging anger was about to make him combust his mother continued: “Abigail is a sweet woman. Why are you treating her this way when everything went so well and after the lovely flowers you sent?”

“Sweet woman?” Benedict drew in a breath, squeezing Penelope’s hand in reassurance. “I didn’t send her any damn flowers, dear mother. For all I know Abigail might have bought them herself. But in truth, I don’t know who did and frankly I don’t care. The only thing that matters right now is that this crazy woman leaves this house and never comes near me or Penelope ever again. Penelope is for the record the only woman, that is not yet related to me, that will ever receive any flowers from me.” 

A gasp went through the room as the few people that didn’t already know realized what he had implied and they all nodded with smiles on their faces in approval. Violet was the only one that bore a stunned and hardened countenance. Beside her, Abigail let out a small sniffle but Benedict didn’t care if he made her cry. When Violet finally found her voice again she asked:

“Penelope? What do you mean by that, Benedict?”

“Oh for the love of God. I‘m in a relationship with Penelope. We have been together for the past year and I have been going back and forth between here and Edinburgh. She has visited me as well on several occasions. We have been meaning to tell you all but for some reason something is always happening in this family.” Benedict’s breaths were coming in hard and he resisted the urge to start pacing like a caged animal. He put an arm around Penelope and drew her close to his side, he needed to feel her warmth against him.  

“But the flowers?” Everyone groaned at Violet’s question and in protest they tried to make Violet understand but she wouldn’t have it. Benedict slowly began to realise that while he and everyone else were on the same page, Violet was reading a totally different book. 

“Mother, I told you already. I didn’t send any flowers, it's a lie. So I will say this again.” Benedict turned his gaze on Abigail and in a voice filled with venom he addressed her. “Abigail, I mean this in the nicest way possible…Get the fuck out of this house!”

Benedict knew by the looks of his mother that she disapproved of everything he was saying, it was clear as day to anyone in the room.  

“Dear, let’s calm down. Abigail is welcome in this house, right Anthony?”

“I think it would be for the best if Abigail left,” Anthony said with a tone that didn’t leave it up to any interpretation. Violet seemingly exasperated, stared at her two eldest sons before she gave a tentative and reassuring smile to the stunned Abigail beside her. 

“I’m sorry Abigail, I don’t know where the manners of this family have gone but you should know you are most welcome here. I think we all need to talk about this because this doesn’t make any sense. Benedict, you and Penelope are…”

“We are what? In love? Yes, yes we are.”

“You are so different from each other, she has always been like a sister to you.”

Benedict took a step back as if he had been struck and he looked at his siblings in bewilderment but quickly redirected his eyes to Penelope when she let out a small sob beside him. He turned to her fully and enveloped her in his arms as he kissed her forehead, whispering soothingly for only them to hear: ”It’s okay, darling Nel. I’m here. It’s you and me.”

After a moment, he faced his mother again with a stare so hot with rage that the fires of hell couldn’t compete. ”Mother. I’m in love with Penelope and she is most definitely not a sister to me…”

“I sincerely hope not after what I witnessed on Friday,” Colin interrupted and Benedict glared at him, making him put up his hands in surrender. 

“This is not how Penelope and I wanted things to play out but as my hand has been forced I have no other option. I will make this crystal clear once and for all.” He took a deep breath, trying to find some semblance, before he continued. “Penelope is my girlfriend, but that title is not enough to describe what she means to me. She is the love of my life, the woman that has always been there even when I didn’t know it was her. She has my heart in her hands and if she decides to crush it, I will not survive. If anyone has a problem with this then that is your problem and not ours. You can either accept this or go to hell because I will not forsake this soul consuming love for anyone. I might love you all but Penelope stands above and always will till the day I draw my last breath.”

Anthony rose from his seat, walked over to Benedict and patted him proudly on his shoulder. Around the room he saw how everyone in attendance nodded in full approval. Suddenly, Abigail, who had been quiet, spoke up. 

“Benedict, what about us?” 

Before he could even comprehend the stupidity of the question, Penelope who was known for never raising her voice roared with such force that Benedict jumped and everyone else went completely still. “Shut up! Why is this so hard for you to understand? There will never be anything between the two of you. Get. The. Fuck. Out!”

“You tell her, Pen!” Colin and, to their surprise, Eloise chuckled. Abigail paled and with tears running down her face she left after she said her quick goodbyes to Violet. The air shifted around them, like the room itself drew in a deep breath filling it with air once again but at the same time the tension grew as the battle was not over yet. 

”Benedict, we have to sit down and talk about this. This is how it started the last time. You convinced yourself that you were in love and gave up your life here, but as it turned out that was not the case. And Penelope, what about Colin?”

Colin pushed his chair back abruptly, making it scrape against the floor as his gaze went back and forth between Penelope and his mother. “What do you mean by that, Mother?”

Benedict didn’t give Violet any time to answer before he exclaimed in defeat: ”Mother, I know that you don’t have any faith in me and think I’m still some confused kid that still needs guidance. I have come to terms that you will always see me that way but I will not stand here while you insult my relationship with Penelope. For that is exactly what this is, a grave insult. You have treated Penelope like she is a part of the family but as I understand now that was only because in your mind she was somehow meant for Colin. That fact definitely shows what you truly think of me.” 

Benedict took Penelope’s hand and together they left Bridgerton House, he didn’t want to be here anymore as he felt his eyes starting to water. They could hear people calling after them but it didn’t matter, he was done. And at this moment he only wanted to curl up with Penelope and show her how much he loved her as they celebrated that they were going to become parents. 

.........

Violet had always been a meddlesome mother, Benedict knew that and so did all of his siblings. They had all had their problems through the years when she tried to do what she thought was best for them. Violet had a heart of gold but her help was somewhat misguided at times. Benedict had ever since the whole arrest debacle been under Violet's watchful eye, which had led to several instances where they clashed. 

When Benedict was in his late twenties he had dated Genevieve Delacroix, a wonderful and creative woman, who had matched him almost perfectly with all her eccentricities. Violet had not approved and refused to acknowledge her as his girlfriend. She had found her vibrant hair colors and tattoos somewhat appalling, which had made it all the funnier the day Eloise had walked into Bridgerton House with blue hair, him with his tattoo, and Colin with an eyebrow piercing. In truth, Violet hadn’t liked Genevieve because she was the one that had pushed Benedict to stand on his own, to question both Anthony’s and his mother’s hold on him. 

One late evening it had all come to a head when Violet had insisted that Benedict should stay in London and not follow Genevieve to Paris. She had been fully aware of the fact that the main reason for the move was that Benedict had finally gotten an opportunity to show his art in a real gallery.

“I don’t understand why you have to move?”

“I have told you that this is a once in a lifetime opportunity for me, to finally be able to show my work for people with real influence. Henry has always believed in me. And Gen is also moving because she has gotten into one of the best designer schools in the world,” Benedict explained and it all was true. He had been friends with Henry Granville since his time at Cambridge, where he had been a teacher, and during the past couple of years he had made a name for himself with a gallery in Paris. He had invited Benedict to have his first exhibition there. 

“I don’t see why you can’t just stay here and work with Anthony. I know that he has offered you a job, I think it was something in marketing. That way you would still be able to use your aesthetic sensibility.”

“You know that this could be my big break and you are also aware that I’m not cut out for that kind of work that Anthony is offering.”

“But your father would have wanted…”

“What is it with you and Anthony telling me over and over again what Father would have wanted?” Benedict‘s pulse had risen dangerously high and he had begun to pace the room. He hated these repetitive conversations because they would only lead to heartbreak for all involved. We have had this discussion so many times before and all I know is that Father would have wanted me to be happy. I know that you want that too but could you for once stop meddling in my life.”

“Benedict, I can’t forbid you from going but that doesn’t mean I will not try. I am your mother.” Violet’s voice had cracked when she continued. “Your father wanted us all to be happy and I know that he was your biggest champion but he would have agreed with me on this. All I see now is you going off to God knows where and doing God knows what. I want to help you.”

“Mother, I love you but this is my life and I will live it the way I please.” Benedict had left the room after that leaving a stunned Violet behind. Two months later he moved out of Bridgerton House for good. 

For a year he and Genevieve had lived together but their relationship soon faded into a friendship, his mother had been right about the fact that they were not fully compatible. He had loved her but their differences regarding how many people to bring into their bedroom and relationship had made him pause — not that he had anything against polyamory but it was not for him. They separated but were still close friends to this day. 

Even if his relationship had ended, his life in Paris had been all that he had ever wanted. He had finally met the right kind of people in an environment that inspired him. He had found some peace after years of being lost even if he felt that something was still missing, he simply hadn’t known what that was. And it wasn’t until he had met Penelope in Edinburgh and they had fallen in love that he realized that true peace was found in the quiet support of the one person that loves you the most. The one person that also challenges you in a way that doesn’t take away any part of who you truly are. The one person that sees you even in the dark. 

.........

Benedict was drained after everything that happened during the worst of their day. Both he and Penelope were upset when they got home but had spent the afternoon lounging in bed with snacks, take out, and Netflix — all in all it had been wonderful. Penelope eventually drifted off to sleep as day turned into late evening and the hues of light coming in from the window changed from gray to fluorescent from the street lights below. He now sat in the brown leather butterfly chair nursing a glass of whiskey in the living room, the burning hearth before him enveloped the room in a warm ambient glow as his thoughts were spiraling.

His mother had tried to call several times but he had let it go to voicemail, he didn’t want to talk to her. He knew that she was probably hurt but so was he, and so was definitely Penelope. Penelope, his Nel, who was the one person that meant the world to him and the one that he had promised that he would protect at all cost. But he had failed her, he had let his own mother hurt her and for that he couldn’t forgive himself. Suddenly, the doorbell chimed and it pulled him abruptly from his thoughts as he ran quickly to the door —  he didn’t want anything to disturb Penelope in her slumber.

“Anthony?” Benedict questioned when he saw his elder brother leaning against the wall outside his apartment. “Why are you here at this hour?”

“You know why.”

“Mother,” he sighed, and gestured for him to come in and as Anthony sat down on the couch, Benedict poured him a glass of whiskey before he sank back into his chair again. ”So, what did Mother have to say after we left?”

“It’s actually not only about Mother but we can start there.”

“Okay, but just so we’re clear I will not talk to her if that is what you want me to do.”

“No, I will not force you to do anything, brother. God knows I have done too much of that in my life.” Anthony stared into the fire somberly. “I have spoken to our mother and she is upset because she had drawn up a picture in her head that you and Abigail were somehow meant for each other. Abigail had apparently been spinning a tale about how you two had grown closer during the past year as you had met at different events. When Mother invited her to the engagement party Abigail must have taken that as a confirmation of that bond, Mother’s words, not mine.”

“I have barely ever talked to the woman before. Yes, we have met a couple of times at some charity events but nothing that could have been interpreted as anything. I don’t know where all of this is coming from. I told our mother several times before the engagement party that I was not interested in her setting me up with anyone.” 

“I know and she didn’t want to listen to that.”

Benedict chuckled coldly as he threw down the last of his whiskey before pouring himself another one. “No, she rarely does. So, what does she want now?”

“She is sorry but she still doesn’t understand.” 

“Why is it so hard for her to believe that Penelope and I fell in love?” His heart was hammering hard in his chest as he felt the rage returning.

“She thought that Colin and Penelope would end up together, because they have always been so close. She knew that Colin had visited her in Scotland and that had somehow confirmed it.”

“For fuck sake. Colin has never been romantically interested in Penelope.” This was true to this day, Colin and Penelope had been close friends for years but they had never crossed that line. Benedict knew this as he had spoken about it with them both on different occasions.

“I know that too. Colin’s reaction earlier to Mother’s words confirmed as much as well. He told me later that he loves Penelope dearly and would walk through fire for her but the feelings are more of a brotherly nature.” They fell into a compatible silence as they both took a sip of their drink. Anthony smiled proudly and Benedict could only do the same. Their younger brother had really grown up to be a real gentleman. 

“She doesn’t understand how serious my relationship with Penelope is. In truth she has never taken any of my relationships seriously. Do you remember how she was when I dated Gen?”

“Yes, she thought that Gen was a lovely friend but never acknowledged her as your girlfriend. She was the same with my relationship with Kate in the beginning. She thought that we fought too much and that it would never work out.”

Benedict inhaled deeply and looked at his brother. “Ant, I’m going to marry Penelope. This is it for me. I will never want anyone else as much as I want her. I already have a ring.”

“Ben, I’m happy for you both. You really deserve this.” Anthony stood up, walked over to him, and held out his arms. Benedict rose quickly and let his brother envelope him in a tight hug. They hadn’t shared one like this since before their father had died and Benedict let himself be held. When they settled in their seats again Benedict brushed a tear from his cheek. Anthony might be a stubborn and arrogant ass sometimes, but he loved him even during the years he avoided him at all cost. 

“What was the other part you wanted to talk to me about?“ Benedict asked after a beat.

“Well I don’t know if you have seen the tabloids but they apparently have sniffed out Abigail’s post and you and she are plastered on several sites. I have been in contact with Mr. Godfrey and asked him to take care of his daughter’s Instagram post. I have also contacted our PR team that are working on taking down as many of the articles as possible. One of them has published that you were seen officially with Abigail but that you left with an unknown woman.”

“Fucking hell!” 

“I know, Ben. Everything will be taken care of. They apparently had a photo of you and Penelope entering your building as well.”

At that Benedict started pacing the living room, the small amount of calm he had managed to collect evaporated in an instant. If the damn hounds knew where they lived, they would never know peace again. The Bridgertons were often featured in different magazines but it all came with a cost and they could never truly relax when they were in public.

“I need higher security. I will call them tomorrow and install cameras downstairs.”

“I can help you with that. Do you have the phone number to the owner of the building?”

“I am the owner of the building.” Benedict smirked, fully aware that his brother had no idea about this part of his life. 

“What?”

“I bought it four years ago when I moved here.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? And I haven’t seen that kind of transaction on your account.”

Benedict laughed at that and took a small sip of his whiskey and raised his glass in salute while tilting his head to the side. “No, this you wouldn’t be able to track, dear brother. As I have told you before, you don’t know everything. I own this building and I have one more in Soho and then my country estate in Wiltshire as well.”

“Oh my God. How?” Anthony asked in disbelief.

“I bought Wiltshire years ago, when I sold my first painting for a six figure sum. It was a very run down place but I have let it get restored bit by bit. And I have invested all of my profits ever since.” Benedict declared proudly as Anthony shook his head. “You are not the only one that can invest. Just so you know Colin also owns a building in London plus one in Greece. Gregory is still young but he is well on his way with his own projects.”

Anthony was baffled but before he could ask anything the doorbell rang again and once more Benedict hurried down the hallway. When he got back Colin was in tow and Anthony gave him a tight hug in welcome. 

“What brings you here, Colin?”

“As I told Ben, I just wanted to check in on them. But I didn’t get to ask where Pen is?”

“She is asleep. The day has been draining for her.” Benedict said but added without thinking. “More so now than ever.”

The comment went over Colin’s head but Anthony raised his eyebrows in confusion. “What do you mean by ‘more so now than ever‘?”

Benedict sighed, cursing himself for letting that slip but he knew that it was useless to try and talk around it and therefore he pinned both of his brothers with a hard stare. “Promise me that you will not tell anyone, not even Kate.” 

“But she is my wife.” Anthony objected but slowly nodded together with Colin as they agreed to his demand.

“Penelope and I found out this morning that we are expecting. So, it’s really early still and we don’t want everyone to know just yet especially now after everything that happened today.”

Anthony and Colin both congratulated him with tight embraces. “That was the best news ever since the rest of the day has been a complete shitshow.” Colin exclaimed. ”I still can’t believe that Mother thinks that there was something going on between Pen and me. We are not compatible in that sense. With all my travel it’s been hard to settle down in one place and Pen has never been the type to wander like I have done. And also for the fact that I am actually seeing someone.”

“You are?” Anthony and Benedict stared at one another as if trying to figure out if the other one knew about this.

“Yes, I am. I met her in Australia. She has recently moved to London but was born in Sydney. She has also lived in Seoul as she has family there. We ended up travelling together for a couple of months and we also spent some time in South Korea. Everything is new so we’re taking our time getting to know each other.” Colin beamed and looked truly besotted.

Benedict was happy for his brother and he could see that Anthony was too. He knew that Colin’s traveling lifestyle had made it hard for him to meet someone to share his life with. The book deal he had secured had been Colin’s way of staying in one place without having to admit that he was tired of missing out. The birth of his nieces and nephews had hit him extra hard and the year that he had been stuck in Japan during the pandemic had made him cry more than once during their calls. 

Benedict realised as the night continued in light banter, how much he had missed hanging out with his brothers, and he made a promise that they would meet up just the three of them at least once a month going forward. But the only thing he really wanted at this moment was to curl up in bed with Penelope — he was exhausted. The day had been taxing and as the adrenaline dissipated, reality set in. He still couldn’t believe how everything had gone completely sideways, and that his mother so clearly lacked faith in him — it hurt deeply. He thought that she for once would be able to see things from his perspective and realize that it was actually his life, but that hadn’t been the case. Then there was Abigail and the absolute audacity of that woman. He could only hope that they would never have to deal with her again, even if there was something that didn’t sit right with him with how things had panned out but right now he couldn’t put his finger on it. 

Benedict sighed as he shook his head and downed the last of his drink before he said good night to his brothers. Tomorrow was a new day and the movers would be here early in the morning to drop off Penelope’s things. He knew that he probably would have to chain her to a chair because she would otherwise insist on helping with all the boxes — she might be small but her stubbornness was not. As he ascended the stairs he chuckled lovingly and wondered if their child would take after her, because if they did — God help him!

Chapter Text

The past four weeks went by in a blur as Benedict and Penelope settled into their new life together, trying to find their own rhythm in the aftermath of the Bridgerton House debacle. Hyacinth and her friends had come to their aid — like anonymous cyber knights  — and filled Abigail’s comment sections with messages questioning her sanity. When Anthony had found out about it, he reacted as expected — scolding and authoritarian — but there had been no real heat behind his words. 

To their surprise, and very much their relief, Abigail hadn't tried to reach out — though her actions still haunted and affected them. Anthony had managed to get her Instagram post taken down but unfortunately it had been up for a couple of days by then. Several news outlets had decided to keep their articles up, even if the Bridgerton PR team had worked hard to get them to see reason, even threatening legal actions. Instead of listening to them, they published more, even claiming that Benedict was in a love triangle. This, together with the fact that paparazzi lurked outside their apartment building on a daily basis, led Anthony into advising Benedict to make an official statement, something Penelope knew that he hated. He always avoided talking about his personal life publicly and ever since the beginning of their relationship he had gone above and beyond in protecting her and their privacy. Even more so now that she was pregnant and what had already happened. 

The final straw was when two of Penelope’s new colleagues at Danbury Publications had made snarky comments on how they couldn’t believe that she had stolen “The Benedict Bridgerton” from the most beautiful woman in the world. This had however been shot down quickly by Agatha Danbury herself, CEO and a fierce dragon who refused any bullshit at her company, but Penelope had suspected that Benedict had a hand in it as well. 

Benedict had been livid when he found out what was implied about them and had insisted upon calling Agatha himself. Penelope argued that she was fully capable of handling the situation without him, using the fact that Agatha was an old family friend of the Bridgertons. But he had countered that it was the least he could do when he had already failed her once, putting all the blame on himself for what his mother had done. At first Penelope had thought about countering him but in her heart she knew that he was not doing it to undermine her and she couldn’t fault him for caring about her.

After this incident, Benedict had agreed on doing an interview but with the conditions that the main focus would be on his upcoming exhibition “The Dawn of Light” and that all questions had to be preapproved — any mentions of Abigail were forbidden. Anthony had assured him. A couple of days later the article was released, making their life somehow more hectic. They both received messages from all of their friends and family congratulating them, Penelope’s friend requests on her private social media accounts exploded, even her sisters tried to reconnect — something she ignored. But after about a week, things started to die down as they hoped and even more when Abigail was seen with the business mogul and heartthrob, Bertram Fife. 

Violet’s reaction - or lack thereof  - surprised them. Before the article she called both of them several times a day and even showed up at their apartment and Benedict’s gallery. Afterwards, she had gone completely silent and outwardly Benedict seemed satisfied with this, as he refused to have any contact with her anyway. He explained that the only thing he wanted was to stay in their own bubble of happiness — they finally were living together and were going to be parents. What more could he ever want. Despite his constant reassurance that he was fine, Penelope knew that inside he was crumbling — Violet’s words had cut open a deep wound in his heart, and Penelope fought hard everyday to heal it. 

In the midst of all the emotional turmoil, Penelope’s belongings had arrived from Edinburgh and for weeks they worked tirelessly trying to organize and find some semblance of normalcy and comfort. She always loved his place, but as she slowly added fluffy blankets and pillows, candles in every room and filled the shelves with her books mixed with framed family photos, the apartment transformed from a bachelor pad, albeit a very rich bachelor, into a cosy and lived-in home for the both of them. 

Benedict at one point wanted to start clearing out the guest room in an attempt to prepare the nursery for their little dove. Penelope knew that he was ecstatic about becoming a father but at the same time she understood that this part was him trying to overcompensate for things that hadn’t even been his fault in the first place. Furthermore, she felt very strongly that arranging the nursery this early in the pregnancy was something she was nervous about. So much could still happen, and she wanted to wait until she was at least in the second trimester. But one cold November morning she had found him in the room disassembling furniture.

“Ben, I know you are excited for the baby but it’s still too early. So much can go wrong, I’m only about ten weeks pregnant and we haven’t been to our first check up yet,” Penelope explained, as she stared at him from the doorway — eyebrows furrowed.

“Darling!” Benedict rose from the floor, and with a worried look on his face he had scurried over to her. “Are you okay? Do you feel like something is wrong? Do we need to go to the hospital?”

“No, no nothing like that, honey. I simply don’t want us to get ahead of ourselves and if…” 

”But…” Benedict tried to interject as he reached out for her, putting a protective hand on her lower stomach but Penelope stopped him from continuing.

“… If something happens I couldn’t bear to have a whole room fixed already.” Her voice cracked at the thought. A friend had lost her baby around this time and she had seen firsthand how it had affected her. Benedict embraced her as she sobbed into his chest — tears wetting his shirt. “I’m scared.”

“Oh Nel. I’m also scared and it’ll be okay. We’re in this together and I will be here for you every step of the way.” He soothed, stroking her hair and kissing her on top of her head. “I love you.” 

“I love you, Ben.” 

They stood by the doorway, enveloped in each other for a while, breathing together and comforting one another. Benedict tentatively put one finger under her chin, tilting her head upwards to look at him and with his crooked smile he chuckled goodheartedly. “I will wait on redecorating the room but you have to at least let me buy some baby clothes. They are so adorable and I can’t wait. Please!”

“You are an insufferable idiot,” Penelope said sternly, but there was no heat behind it as Benedict stared down at her with his pleading puppy eyes. 

“Yes, but I’m your insufferable idiot.” 

The day after Benedict had come home with bags filled with tiny jumpsuits in every color of the rainbow and a white teddy suit. He had been so proud of himself and was so happy to show her everything that he bought. Also Penelope’s hormones had kicked in with full force — tears had streamed down her face seeing all the cute tiny clothes. Benedict instantly pulled her into his lap, whispering sweet nothings into her hair, as they sat together on the couch in the dimly-lit living room. In that moment, as she rested her head on his chest and heard his heartbeats pound against her ear, every doubt she had ever had about their relationship evaporated. Benedict was her heart and her everything, the way he always protected and took care of her and together with his excitement for their baby, made her love him even more.

………

It was only half past eight in the morning and Penelope had left for work about 30 minutes earlier, even though Benedict repeatedly had begged her to stay home. Both had been up since five because Penelope spent the morning throwing up and looked like a living ghost when she dragged herself out through the door. Some days were better than others and today was a particularly bad one. He hated that he couldn’t share the burden with her or most preferably take all of the nausea away. 

After she left Benedict made coffee for himself and also for Colin and Gregory who would be arriving soon. As he now leaned against the kitchen island with his coffee mug in one hand and his sketchbook in the other, he studied every line he had drawn — it was perfect. He had promised Penelope not to start decorating the nursery yet but the mural that he wanted to paint would take a long time to finish and he figured that she would forgive him once she saw it. 

Benedict had contemplated how he would hide it from her and he realized that she normally didn’t go into the guest room but if she did he would explain everything to her there and then. He knew that the paint would smell but that was nothing new — he was a painter for heaven’s sake. Fortunately, the whole room didn’t need to be repainted as that had recently been done, the walls were a soft, sage color — the ideal canvas for what he intended to do. Before Penelope moved in, he planned to turn the guest room into her study and had been well on his way doing so but that idea was scrapped when he realized that he could split his studio in half and share that space with her instead — something they have both come to love in the short amount of time they have lived together. Benedict smiled to himself but was startled from his thoughts when the doorbell chimed loudly. 

“The door is unlocked, just come in!” He bellowed, took a sip of his coffee as he heard the door open and close — the hallway soon filled with his brothers’ voices.

“Colin, stop shoving me!” 

“I didn’t shove, you simply bumped into my outstretched arms,” Colin chuckled. 

Benedict listened to their endless bickering, as he poured coffee into two mugs for them. After a couple of minutes, when they still hadn’t showed up in the kitchen, he exasperatedly called out: “Are you two going to spend the whole morning out in the hallway?” 

“If Colin can’t keep his hands to himself, there’s a risk of that.” Gregory sighed annoyingly as he appeared around the corner, closely followed by a gleeful Colin. “So Ben, why are we here this early?” 

“Ah Greg, you see we’re moving some furniture in the guest room so that I can paint a mural on one of the walls for the nursery.” Benedict and Colin gave each other a knowing look as they both smirked, confusing their little brother. He had no idea that Penelope was pregnant, the only ones who knew were Anthony, Colin, and Penelope’s manager because she hadn’t been able to hide the terrible morning sickness. 

“Why would you need a nursery?” 

“Well little brother, you might still be young but you should be old enough to know how babies are made.” Colin laughed, smacking Benedict on the shoulder and took a quick sip of his coffee. “We don’t have to have the whole birds and the bees talk with you…again?” 

“No, of course not!” Gregory stated with such finality that the elder brothers guffawed. “Very funny you two, but I still don’t understand why you need a nursery?”

Benedict and Colin didn’t say anything else, they only waited for the penny to drop and after a minute Gregory’s eyes widened in pure shock.

“Oh! You mean…Penelope is…Penelope is pregnant.”

“You are correct, little brother.” Benedict adorned a smug expression as he made his way over to him and patted him on the back. “No one in the family knows except you, Colin, and Anthony. So you have to keep it to yourself.”

Several emotions seemed to pass through Gregory’s face as he took in what Benedict had just disclosed before he burst into laughter. “Ha! I got to know something before Hy. She will be so pissed when she finds out…but congratulations!”

They embraced each other as Colin observed them and with his mug in hand he sat down at the large oak kitchen table. Benedict was relieved that all of his brothers were happy for them and he knew that his sisters would be as well — Eloise would probably have something to say at first but would definitely come around. But as his mind filled with thoughts of his siblings it soon drifted to his mother and with a deep sigh he released Gregory, taking a hold of the kitchen counter instead. His chest ached, as he prayed to some higher power that his mother would find it in her heart to accept their little one and that she would be the same wonderful grandmother she was to all of Anthony’s and Daphne’s children.

Colin, who had always been able to read everyone's emotions, quickly picked up on his changed demeanor. “Mother will be ecstatic when you tell her, Ben.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.” Colin rose from his seat and walked over to him, putting a warm hand on his shoulder. Benedict stared down at the marble counter top, head hanging low and both palms now placed flatly on the cool surface. “She misses you both and I know she bungled everything but have you tried to talk to her?”

“No, I refuse to have her insult us and our relationship any further.” He pushed off the kitchen island and started pacing the room, chest heaving slightly. “You were there. You heard everything she said to us — about us. At the moment I’m not interested in any of her explanations. She hurt Penelope and I will not let her come near her again — she doesn’t need that kind of stress right now.” 

The brothers fell silent at that, letting Benedict take some deep breaths. Gregory, who hadn’t been present in the room when the argument took place at Bridgerton House, had been filled in during the past weeks and just as all of his other siblings, he had taken their side in the conflict. Daphne was the only one who still tried to hold a somewhat neutral stance but Benedict knew that they had her support as well. 

“So, a mural. Have you decided on a motif?” Gregory inquired cautiously after a while. Benedict picked up his discarded sketchbook from the kitchen island and put it in front of his brothers.  

“That’s beautiful, Ben,” both exclaimed as they studied the sketch before them carefully, depicting two adventurous children looking up at a castle in the background with wildflowers and bushes cascading around them.  

“Where have I seen this scene before?” Colin added contemplative after a beat.

“It’s actually my interpretation of a scene from The House of Arden. It’s Penelope’s favorite book from when she was a child and I know how much it means to her.”

“Oh, of course! I remember that book, she never put it down. She loved it so much and I know that she will definitely love this.”

“I hope so.” Benedict smiled, thinking back to when he had found her copy of it in one of her many boxes. He hadn’t been able to put his pencil down for hours as he had drawn the first rough sketch.

“What does the dove symbolize?” Gregory asked. Benedict inhaled sharply, he should have known that one of his brothers would ask that question because in one corner between a crown of flowers and leaves was a little dove. It was deeply personal to both of them but especially to Penelope. With the poetic symbolism of a heavenly guardian and the connection to his father, it had felt right to incorporate it in the mural. 

“Greg, you were too young to remember, but I think you might, Col.” He nodded in Colin’s direction, who confirmed his assumption with a tilt of his head. “Father always called Penelope ‘little dove’ and he wanted her to feel at home with us by making her feel special. She meant a lot to him and he wanted to protect her as he knew, we all did to some degree, that she wasn’t close with her own family. She loved our father dearly as much as he loved her. By doing this mural for our own little dove, I wanted to honor their close bond in some way.” 

A sob ripped through Benedict and his chest ached, gripping the counter in front of him. “I miss him so much and Penelope does too. I know that all of us want him to be here but right now I really need him. Everything might have been different then…” He paused, tears running down his cheeks. “I don’t know how to be a father.” 

Colin and Gregory moved at the same time as they both flanked him, tears of their own shimmering in the corners of their eyes. The three of them stood there close together for a long moment before Gregory broke the silence once more:

“Ben, you're going to be an amazing dad.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do and I think Colin will agree with me,” Gregory locked eyes with Colin for a second, something unspoken yet true passed between them, before he turned to Benedict again. “I have no memories of our father, I was only 1.5 years old when he passed. The father figures I have are Anthony but mainly you, Benedict. Anthony was there but he had so much going on with the company that he didn’t always have time for us. I don’t fault him for that so don’t get me wrong but you were there. Whenever I needed something, if it was comfort because I was scared or advice when it came to girls, you took the time to listen to me. You helped raise me, so believe me when I say that you will be a fantastic dad, and I love you.”

“Thank you,” Benedict said softly and taking a deep breath, as both he and Colin stared at their younger brother in disbelief. “When did you become so wise?” 

“I have always been mature for my age.” Gregory puffed out his chest, standing taller. 

“Okay, if you say so but thank you again, Greg. It means a lot and I love you too.” Benedict hugged his younger brother, reached out a hand to Colin and pulled him into the embrace. “And Col, I love you as well.” 

The brothers laughed goodheartedly with tears still in their eyes as they let go of each other and moved in the direction of the stairs. It was time to get started because Benedict had to be at the gallery around 2pm for a runthrough with one of his employees.

………

Four months into their relationship, there had been a strike at the airport and hundreds of flights had been canceled, including Benedict’s. Therefore, he was forced to take the train, something he might have enjoyed if he hadn’t been so tired, the train overflowing with passengers and the longing to fall into Penelope’s arms too great. In hindsight, taking a car would have been a better option but the only one he owned was his van that he used at the gallery and he hated driving that thing. To Benedict there had never been a good enough reason for him to have a car because he had everything he needed in walking distance or a couple of stops away with the tube. He knew that he could have borrowed one of the Bridgerton cars that were at his disposal, but then Anthony would have asked too many questions.  

Benedict did not reach Edinburgh until two in the morning. The travelling back and forth had started to take a toll on him and he knew that it was the same for Penelope. The thought of moving in together popped into his head, but had initially pushed it away because it was “too early” in their relationship for that. At the same time, every part of him was sure that she was the one he was meant to spend the rest of his life with. He had never felt so strongly about anything or anyone before and he couldn’t wait to be able to wake up with her in his arms every single morning and to share all of life’s moments with her — good or bad. 

“I want us to move in together.” Benedict declared later that same day, laying in bed together.

“What?”

“I know, it’s way too soon and it might not make sense at all but please, darling…consider it.” He pulled her closer to him and she angled her head to look up at him. “I can’t take it anymore having to leave you here or seeing you off at the airport. It’s killing me.”

“It’s hard for me too, but my life is here, my job is here, or are you going to move in with me?”

“I don’t know how but all I know is that I need to be with you every single day, Penelope. I will do whatever it takes for that to happen.”

She had stared at him with her crystal blue eyes, confusion mixed with love simmering in them. “Where are we going to live? I can’t afford to live in your flat.”

“Darling, don’t worry about that. If we decide that London is where we want to live, then you don’t have to pay anything.” Benedict tried to soothe her, and his statement was true as the apartment was fully paid — she would never have to ask twice about anything. 

“No, Ben! I’m not some woman who just lets herself be taken care of. I want to pay my share of everything.” 

“So you do want to live with me?” He smirked.

“I didn’t say that.” Penelope chuckled, smacking his chest lightly. 

“Now you wound me.”

She drew in a sharp breath as she sat up in bed and he propped himself up on his forearms, observing her. “Ben, we have only been a couple since the beginning of December and we haven’t even been able to tell anyone yet. Now you want us to move in together. Aren’t we moving too fast?”

Benedict turned to the bedside table and a large grin grew on his face as he reached for his phone. “I can send a message in the group chat right now telling everyone.”

“Oh no! You will not.” She threw herself at him without a second thought as he guffawed trying to hold the phone out of her reach — something that wasn’t very hard but a fact he would never tell her, he did value his life. “Ben, we need to tell everyone in person. You know how Eloise is — I,  for one, don’t want her jumping on a plan to hunt you down.”

“I know, Nel. But everyone will be happy for us, especially my mother. She has always loved you so much.”

“I hope you’re right.” Penelope sighed and hesitated before she continued. “If…if we do this, I need to know that I will be able to afford it.”

“Darling, you don’t need to worry.”

“But I do. I know you could buy half of London and still be able to not work a day in your life but that’s not my life.”

“Now you are exaggerating. I could buy a couple of buildings maybe — something I’ve done plus my estate in Wiltshire.”

“See! You have so much more than I do and I don’t want to be…” She had twirled her hair around one of her hands, something he had come to learn that she did in situations where she felt uncomfortable. “…a kept woman.”

“Kept woman?” Benedict studied her in disbelief, annoyance creeping in. “Are we living in the eighteen hundreds?”

“Benedict, be serious!”

“I am and I don’t see the problem with you moving in. I don’t need your money, the flat is paid off and the whole building is mine.” 

Penelope rolled her eyes at that and rose from the bed gesticulating wildly.”Try to see this from my point of view. What if something happens and you don’t want to have me living there anymore? I can’t afford a new place on a whim and for the record when did we decide that we would be living in London?”

Benedict groaned. “Of course, I can move here if you want, I can work anywhere, but I have my gallery in London so I’ll still have to travel a lot.”

They kept arguing for a long time and discussed every single outcome. They agreed that London would be the better option as his family lived there, and he had his gallery with a couple of employees that depended on him.  Penelope had, at one point. raised the issue regarding her job situation and Benedict informed that he had overheard his mother talking to Agatha Danbury who was apparently always on the hunt for new people to hire at her publication firm. He offered to put in a good word for her. 

“No, I want to earn my spot.” She stomped her foot and Benedict thought that she looked adorable when she was this fiery — hair flared around her shoulders in beautiful waves and chest heaving enticingly. His boxers tightened and he had to look away to calm himself down — not the right time to be hard.

“Darling, I know but please let me do this for you.”

“No! You don’t understand. I will not have you paying for everything and me getting some fancy job because of…because of your family name.”

Everything stilled around them at that moment. Benedict always had trouble connecting with people because of his family name. To hear Penelope use it against him cut deep and he quickly rose from the bed, thrown on some clothes and as he walked out of the room he had said with finality:

“I need some time to think.” 

Penelope tried to stop him but he ignored it, he did not want her to see his tears. Benedict had grown up with the knowledge that his name would come with advantages and he acknowledged that privilege but at dark times it had felt that his achievements hadn’t been his own because of it. He heard it from classmates and teachers alike, even from some of his friends, though it was always brushed off as a joke. He knew that Penelope hadn’t meant to hurt him and that he backed her into a corner but that thought hadn’t eased the pain he felt. He loved her so much and he cursed himself for letting the discussion get out of hand. Of course he had understood where she was coming from and what she was afraid of and he was determined to set things right.

When he had gotten back to her apartment, she was pacing the small living room and as soon as she saw him she jumped into his arms. Without hesitation he caught her and held her tightly to him, breathing in her intoxicated scent of almonds and peach that quickly filled his nostrils. 

“I’m sorry, Nel.”

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it sound like I don’t appreciate what you do for me. Ben, you are everything to me and I do want to live with you.” She clung to him like a koala, legs wrapped around his waist as he carried her to the sofa, where he sat down with her in his lap. “I do understand that connections are valuable and I will apply for a job at Danbury Publications but I need you to promise me that you won’t get involved. I want to do this on my own.”

“Nel, you did hurt me but I understand why you said what you did and why you are apprehensive. I’m glad that you’re considering moving in with me and I promise I won’t interfere with your job.” Penelope snuggled in close to him, head resting on his shoulder and he stroked her hair. “About the flat. We can come up with something, you can pay a sum to me each month if that will make you happy. Or pay a portion of utilities. But I want to be clear that I will put that money into an account in your name and that only you can access so that if something, God forbid, happens it can be used for whatever you need.”

“Thank you.” 

”That account will always be yours, even if we should get married down the line.” Benedict added with a smirk and kissed the top of her head. 

“You are being ridiculous but I can work with that.” Penelope pushed herself up a little to gaze at him and after a beat she drew him in for a heated kiss. Both whispered love declarations every time they came up for air and he realized that he would never survive without her.

………

Penelope started her new job as a junior editor at Danbury Publications about a week after she moved back to London and she loved it. It definitely came with its challenges as it was different from her former position, but she enjoyed being able to work closely with authors, both upcoming and well known. She had always wanted to become a writer herself and had actually already begun writing her own manuscript. Books were her way of escaping the reality she lived in growing up and as an adult the love for the written word had only grown. Something that became evident when she and Benedict unpacked her belongings, she apparently owned enough books to start a private library. 

Now sitting at her work desk, Penelope chuckled to herself when she remembered how Benedict had cursed trying to assemble the bookcases they had to buy because the ones they already owned couldn't hold her entire book collection. He might be good at using his fingers, but handling small screws and nuts while following instructions was too much for his artistic and freespirited brain. 

Thinking of him made Penelope miss Benedict and she pulled out her phone to send a text to him.

Nel 🥰: I love you ❤️

His replay came instantly:

Ben 😍: And I love you, my darling ❤️How are you feeling?

Nel 🥰: I’m better, but still a little queasy 😔

Ben 😍: I’ll stop by the store today and buy more of that ginger tea that you said at least tamps it a little. I only wish I could do something more to make it go away entirely. 

Nel 🥰: I know, but this is not your fault. 

Ben 😍: Technically it is though 😉 

Nel 🥰: Ben! 

Ben 😍: I had to 😂

Nel 🥰: Believe me, I know! I have to go but I’ll see you at the gallery later tonight ❤️

Ben 😍: Can’t wait ❤️❤️❤️

Penelope smiled, staring at her phone a moment longer. He was ridiculous at times but he was hers and she loved every version of him. With a content sigh, she went back to the manuscript before her, trying to decipher why the heroine in the story hadn’t seen the obvious disaster heading her way. It was good but there were a couple of larger plot holes that needed to be looked at and Penelope made detailed notes of it. Suddenly, a message from the receptionist popped up in the corner of her screen.

Evelyn Dillon: Violet Bridgerton is waiting for you in the lobby.

The air in her lungs seemed to dissipate all at once and it felt like she was drowning — slowly sinking to the bottom while still fighting to get to the surface. Why was Violet here? What did she want? Penelope of course knew the answers to those questions and she contemplated for a split second about sending Violet away because every fiber in her body screamed at her that she wasn’t ready to face her yet, and most definitely not alone. Her stomach churned, the nausea coming back, and sweat beading at her temples. She inhaled slowly, finding her inner balance again, and with a sharp exhale she made a quick decision — if Violet Bridgerton had decided to come here she would hear her out but only if she was willing to listen to what Penelope had to say as well. 

“Mrs. Bridgerton?” Penelope asked bemused, making her way towards Violet standing in the foyer. 

“Penelope,” Violet exclaimed, as she approached her with arms outstretched for a hug but when Penelope reeled back she paused and her smile fell. After finding her composure again Violet continued. “You know you can call me Violet, you have done so since you were ten.” 

Penelope didn’t answer, instead she studied her for a short while. Violet looked the same as she always had, regal and beautiful with her chestnut brown hair in a tight bun, clad to in a tailored, beige dress and burgundy winter coat — perfect for the downcast weather that graced them this mid-November day. Her eyes, the same stormgray that Benedict has and normally bright with love, were now hollow and watery. 

“I’m at work, Violet. What do you want?” She winced at the coldness in her own voice. Never, during all the years she had known the Bridgertons, had she used this tone with Violet, the woman that was like an extra mother to her and who had shown her that love wasn’t conditional. Now standing before her, Penelope wondered if it had all been a lie, as Benedict’s heartbroken words rang in her ears “you don’t have any faith in me”.

”Could we go somewhere to talk?”

Looking at the golden watch on her left wrist, Penelope sighed but nodded. “There’s a coffee shop down the road. Wait here, I’ll just need to get a couple of things.” 

As she put on her beige winter coat she scribbled a note for her colleague, that she had taken an early lunch. Hurrying back she wanted to text Benedict again but thought better of it because he would only worry and it was better to talk to him tonight instead.

The small coffee shop was busy, people rushing about to get their orders on time. Penelope liked it here, mismatched wooden furniture chipped at the edges after years of use and lit candles on every table — it reminded her of the café in Edinburgh that she used to frequent on a more or less daily basis. As they found a table hidden away in the far right corner they ordered their drinks and some pastries. Sitting before a tense Violet Bridgerton was nerve-racking, this was something new, she had never seen her in this state before and the silence between them was uncomfortable. 

“How are you, Penelope?” Violet found her voice first, looking down slightly at the table as if she was afraid of meeting her gaze fully.

“Fine.” Penelope clipped, and took a sip of her coffee.  

“How’s Benedict?”

“I don’t think you have the right to ask me that after everything.” She hated this, she didn’t want to be in this situation, and she thought that if they had simply told everyone about their relationship earlier this might not have happened. At the same time, they couldn’t have predicted that Violet would react like this. When they talked about it before, Benedict was convinced that his mother would be happy for them, and the only one they had been a little apprehensive about was Eloise. They had anticipated for Eloise to have strong opinions about their relationship but that it had been Violet instead shook them to the core. 

“Please, Penelope. He won’t talk to me. I have tried the last couple of weeks to give him space but I want to fix this,” Violet pleaded, and a tear ran down her cheek. Knowing how close she was with all of her children it wasn’t a far-fetched guess that this must be really hard for her. But Penelope couldn’t find it in herself to feel sorry for her as this was the consequence of her own actions. 

“That‘s because Benedict is hurt, Violet. And frankly I don’t blame him for not answering your calls or refusing to see you.” Benedict had cut all ties the moment they stepped out of Bridgerton House and during the past weeks he stated several times that his only priority going forward was Penelope and their baby. She knew he really meant it, but at the same time she could see how much he missed his mother and how it haunted him, even if he wouldn’t admit it out loud. Though in the dead of night, when the city was cast in darkness and all that could be heard was a few cars passing by, Penelope sometimes would find him sitting on the cold hardwood floor of his studio, head hanging low, crying. Neither one of them would say anything, instead she would sit down beside him and let him curl up against her as she stroked soothingly through his hair until he fell asleep in her arms. 

“I…I didn’t mean to. Benedict and you are so different. I have a hard time wrapping my head around it, I don’t understand.” Violet tried to explain, as she reached over the table to take her hand but Penelope pulled it away, letting her hand fall to her lap. “I want what is best for you both, dear.”

“Really? You think you know what is best for us?” Penelope hissed, anger surging through her. How could Violet sit here and still think that she knows anything? She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. “What’s best for Benedict and me is to be together and I won’t let you sit here telling me otherwise. We love each other and I will do anything to protect his peace.”

There was a long pause after that as they drank their coffees, took small bites of the pastries as they observed one another. Violet was the first to break the silence. “I feared that Benedict had ‘problems’ again. When I noticed that he started to skip family functions and other events I assumed the worst.”

“On one hand I can understand why you would think that, even if it has been many years since he had those kinds of ‘problems’, but on the other why wouldn’t you simply talk to him? Why did you feel the need to ask Anthony to track him? Wouldn’t it have been easier to ask Benedict himself?”

“I did ask him, but he didn’t want to tell me anything of what was going on.“

“Then you should have trusted him.” Penelope was trembling as the fury pulsed in her veins. “He is a grown man and he has the right to make his own decisions regarding his life.”

“I know but I’m his mother and I will always worry.” Violet's voice cracked and she wrung her hands together.

“Yes, but it doesn’t give you the right to meddle.” She inhaled sharply trying to steady herself before she continued. “What puzzles me is that Colin has been going around the world for over a decade at this point and at times we have not been able to get in touch with him for weeks. Why do you trust him more than Benedict?”

It was true, Colin had on several occasions been at such remote places that it was impossible to reach him. Penelope knew that Violet had worried about him and that it might be unfair of her to bring that up now but at the same time she had never tried to stop Colin from living his life. 

“Benedict got arrested.”

“For the love of God, Violet. It was one time, and I can promise you that both Colin and Eloise have done worse.” Penelope regretted her words the moment they slipped out but she had reached her wit’s end with this conversation.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I will not bring up what they have done and break their trust by telling you something they have told me in confidence.” If Benedict knew how high her stress level was right now he would have been livid, she thought as she stroked her stomach lightly. “But I will tell you this. Benedict has always been the backbone of the family, and you know it. He has done more than anyone gives him credit for because when Anthony was responsible for the financial parts, Benedict was the glue that kept the family together after Edmund died. He sacrificed every part of himself for you and the family. Yes, I was only eight but I do remember all the small things through the years where Benedict bent over backwards in attempts to put smiles on all of your faces. What hurts the most, on top of how you have treated him, is the fact that you stood there in the middle of the dining room insinuating that there was something between Colin and me, but you wouldn’t even ask how Benedict and I came to be a couple, not even now.” 

“You and Colin have always been so close. I just assumed.”

“Colin has been my best friend for years, but I have never been interested in him that way. As he has never been interested in me.” Through the years people had thought that there was more between Colin and her but they always shot it down quickly. The only thing that had ever happened between them was one drunken kiss but it felt like kissing your sibling and both agreed that they were better off as friends and to never talk about it again. 

“I want to talk to him and tell him how sorry I am for everything. I mean it, Penelope. You have always been like a daughter to me and I love you both with all my heart. I want to make things right.”

“I know, but he needs time to grieve and heal from what you broke in him. I love Benedict for who he is and always will. What you need to do now, Violet, is to open your eyes and really look at this whole situation. And I’m not just talking about our relationship, I'm talking about Benedict as a person. To keep him in your life, you need to let him go.”

”I never meant to hurt him or you.”

“I know, but you did. Take a step back and let him come to you. I know it hurts but trust me, he will come to you.” They drank their coffees and ate the rest of the pastries in silence — there was nothing left to say. When they rose from their seats so Penelope could go back to work she gave Violet a light hug and whispered. “I will talk to him but I will not push him into doing anything.”

”Thank you, Penelope.” Violet cried as she pulled her closer into her embrace and Penelope let herself relax. She loved Violet, she had always loved her like a mother and she meant a lot to her but Penelope would sacrifice her for Benedict any given moment.

………

“Ben, it looks so beautiful,” Penelope’s voice rang through the gallery as she entered and the door locked behind her. Benedict had been looking forward to showing her the almost completed exhibition. It was a combination of his own works with other artists that had yet to put their own creations on display, the theme “The Dawn of Light” connected to that — to new beginnings and opportunities. He had worked hard on this and he felt that it might be one of his greatest achievements as he wanted to pay it forward for all the help he had gotten from people around the world through the years. 

“Thank you, darling. I’m so glad you're here.” He came around the corner as she let her coat fall to the floor when he put his arms around her. He lifted her up off the floor as she squealed and giggled. “How was your day?”

“It was good.” She answered tentatively and Benedict could sense that something was amiss. 

“What is it?” He asked and put her down slowly, looking up and down to see if there was anything physically wrong. Penelope was shifting from foot to foot, making him anxious. “Nel?”

“Your mother came by today. She…” She paused when Benedict recoiled a little. “…she wanted to talk and we went to the café down the street from my office.”

“You should have called me. I can’t believe her,” he said, still looking her over as if he was trying to find any visible scars. Benedict hated that his mother had put Penelope in this situation, he had made it abundantly clear that she was not to contact them. That she had gone behind his back angered him. 

“I know, but she looked sad and I couldn’t send her away.” Penelope put her hands on his chest and leaned against him as he embraced her, kissing her on top of her head — his pulse calming. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. Oh God, don’t ever think that, my darling. I just can’t believe that she would just show up like that, ambushing you.”

“It’s okay, honey. I told her my thoughts about the whole situation and that she has to let you live your life. I don’t know if it made any impact but I could tell that she misses you a lot and that she loves you.”

Benedict was quiet for a while, he didn’t know what to say right now. He missed his mother and he loved her but what she had done had broken a part of him and he had no idea how they would be able to mend their relationship. “I miss her too but that doesn’t give her the right to say what she said and act like she did.”

“No, it doesn’t. I’m here for you and I hope you know that, Ben.” Penelope stroked him soothingly on his chest and his arms tightened around her.

“Of course.” His voice was strained.

“It’s okay to cry, my love. You don’t have to be strong all the time. Let me share your burden.” 

Benedict couldn’t hold back any longer and tears streamed down his face as Penelope started to guide him backwards further into the gallery away from the large windows and any prying eyes. When he hit the back wall, they sank down to the floor together. She straddled him, letting her warm thighs cage him in as she put her head at the crook of his neck — her hot breath dampening his skin. 

”God! I love you so much, Nel.”

“And I love you. You are the best boyfriend a girl could ever wish for.” 

Benedict leaned his head against hers as he felt every part over her, her arms around his neck and her breasts pressed against his chest. The feeling of her full weight calmed him, like a weighted blanket — he loved the extra pressure. They breathed together for a long time, finding the peace they both needed in each other’s arms. He stroked up and down her back and her hips instinctively shifted forwards. Heat simmering between them. 

“If you keep moving, this will become a totally different kind of exhibition,” he chuckled in her ear.

“What would you do if I said I wanted that?” 

“Penelope!” 

“Are you scandalized?” She asked, biting her lower lip, as their gazes locked and he could see that her normally vibrant blue eyes were now almost black — her pupils fully dilated.

“A little actually.”

The air shifted between them, tension coiling — like a string about to snap. She hummed and moved her hips in a rolling motion, making his head fall back against the wall with a thump. He could feel his cock getting harder underneath her, straining against his tight jeans. The rhythm of her movements increased and she moaned into his skin, kissing her way up his neck to his jaw. His last restraint evaporated and he took a firm grip of her hair at the back of her head and claimed her mouth with his, kissing her like he was starving and she was his only salvation. 

“I can’t take this any more,” he groaned as he tore his mouth from hers and let a hand fall in between them. The button popped open with a flick of his fingers and he pulled down the fly of his trousers together with his boxers in one desperate move  — his throbbing cock sprung free. He took himself in hand, stoking up and down a couple of times and when he felt her small fingers gripping him, he moaned loudly and his eyes closed. 

“Nel, I need you.”

“Oh God, Ben,” she responded, panting in his ear. Penelope lifted her hips a little, steading herself with one hand on his shoulder as the other took a hold of his right one, placing it just above her left knee. He followed the stocking-clad leg upwards, under her bunched up navy dress, until he met her heated skin high up on her thigh — he lingered, gripping her flesh. Her head tipped backwards and she whimpered as his fingers reached her lace panties. Wasting no time he stroked her aching cunt gently over the thin fabric — teasing her, making her squirm. She leaned forward, capturing his lips with hers and let her tongue play with his, deepening the kiss. There was no finesse to it, it was sloppy and wet — desperate. 

Benedict hooked his fingers at the pantyline, moving them swiftly out of the way. She was begging for him, her body vibrating as he trailed her wet folds. Adding a light pressure he pushed between them, finding her clit and circling it mercilessly, making her cry out — she arched and he steadied her with a hand at the small of back.  

“Hold up your skirt, love, and shift forward. Guide me into you, please!” He pleaded. She held him firmly, his cock aching in her hand — he needed to be inside her. Penelope did what he begged for and as she slowly sank down, letting herself be impaled by him, both gasped in relief of finally being connected. The warmth enveloping him was overwhelming as his cock pulsated deep within her and it almost undid him. He gripped her hips hard with both of his hands as she started to move and he let her take the lead. 

“Oh God! You feel so good, Ben.” 

“Keep going, love. Ride me…use me…Fuck! You’re so damn tight,” he growled, sweat beading at his temples. 

She bounced on him, breasts brushing against his chest as she put her hands on his shoulders — both panting with need. If he died right now, he would die as the luckiest man to ever have lived, what had he ever done to deserve this woman — this goddess. The room filled with the sounds of skin meeting skin and their ragged breaths. He put his feet flat on the floor and snapped his hips upwards, hitting deeper inside her and she screamed out in pure pleasure. He leaned forward kissing her desperately — she tasted salty and sweet at the same time. 

“Benedict!” She moaned, meeting every one of his thrusts — it was exquisite. Her hair flared and cascaded in waves around her face, she was beautiful like this. “Harder… please!”

“As you wish.” He tightened his grip on her hips, probably leaving bruises behind, and he helped her in her movements at the same time as he drove hard into her from underneath — letting his cock get all the way out before slamming right back in. Her body trembled against his, sweat dripping from his forehead and his thighs burned as he kept pounding her. Her nails dug into his shoulders, making him hiss, the pain heightening all of his senses. 

“Good girl, you’re taking me so fucking well. You’re so wet — soaking me. God, Nel!” Penelope whimpered at his praises and he could feel that she was getting closer. “You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you?” 

“Yes, Daddy!” She screamed and he almost faltered at what she had just called him. She had never done it before and God help him if it didn’t make him even harder. He could feel that familiar coil in his lower stomach, he was close but he needed her to come first. One of his hands trailed down her stomach and in between her quivering thighs, where he swiftly found her clit. He set a relentless pace flicking her nub, trying to match it with each of his thrusts.

“Fuck, Penelope! I’m gonna come but please you need to come first. I want to feel you clamp hard around me,” he commanded with such force that he almost didn’t recognize his own voice. 

“Ben, I love you. I’m gonna…”

“Yes! Come…come for me!”

“Benedict!”

Her walls tightened around him, liquid running down her thighs and onto him. Penelope screamed and thrashed as her orgasm slammed into her, dragging Benedict over the edge as well. He growled violently as he filled her spasming cunt with his hot cum. She slumped against him, totally spent and undone, and he fell back hard against the wall, folding his arms around her. Benedict pulled her close to his chest, letting her rest against him as they both tried to recover — catching their breaths. 

After a long time he looked down at her, kissed her damp forehead before he put a finger under her chin tilting her head up to meet his gaze, trying to convey all the love he felt for her through it. 

“I love you,” he whispered, voice husky as he caught her lips and kissed her soundly, holding her close to him. When they pulled apart he looked at her and chuckled smugly. “You called me Daddy.”

Penelope tried to avert her gaze in embarrassment. “I don’t know why I did it.”

“Darling! It was the hottest thing you ever said to me!” He kissed her again before he lightly patted her on her derrière. ”You can call me that anytime, my love, but for now let’s get up and get ourselves cleaned up a little before I show you around.”

Penelope giggled as they rose, his jeans wet with both of their releases — this would be hard to hide but he was glad that it at least was dark outside so that the stain wouldn’t be too obvious. They walked hand in hand into the backroom where they tried to make themselves somewhat presentable again. Penelope’s hair was tangled and she pulled it up in a bun on top of her head and as he watched her he could see his cum mixed with hers running down her legs — he groaned at the sight and his cook twitched. 

“Ben!”

“You don’t know how sexy you are right now. Fuck, you’re beautiful like this — hair tangled and damp, skin glowing.” Benedict placed his hands on her waist and without warning he lifted her onto the desk at the far wall as he fell to his knees before her. “I’m going to clean you up.” 

Penelope spread her legs for him without protest, bracing herself on her forearms. He pushed her dress up and descended upon her, letting his tongue trail up her thighs. As the taste and scent of them both hit his senses, he moaned and his cock throbbed. Curling his fingers around her soaked through panties he pulled them off of her in one swift motion and brought them up to his nose, taking a deep breath — inhaling her. She was intoxicating and it made him lightheaded. He put the whimsical fabric in his pocket and Penelope gasped in shock at the sight.

“God, you smell so good. I’ll keep them with me, Nel.”

Benedict didn’t let her answer, instead he kissed her mound and licked a strain down to her dripping folds — his tongue lapping up any liquid.

”Ben, please!”

“Good girl, you’re begging so nicely. Do you want me to eat you out?” Benedict asked, his voice husky with want. 

“Yes, I need it.”

Without any hesitation, he lowered his head in between her legs again, his tongue darted out with purpose tasting her beautiful and needy cunt — he was in heaven. With some light pressure her folds parted and he quickly found her clit, flicking it over and over — teasing, making her scream from the overstimulation. She trembled, wanting to close her legs around his head but he held them open with a firm grip of her thigh. Benedict smiled against her and circled her swollen nub mercilessly with his tongue, alternating it by blowing his hot breath at her. 

“Are you going to come for me again?” He growled and she nodded in delight, whining and trying to push herself against his mouth. He kissed her quivering folds and pushed his tongue through them again.

“I’m so close, please I need more,” Penelope pleaded and without pause he pushed two fingers into her dripping hole — curling them at the right angle and hitting that soft spot within her — as he sucked her clit into his mouth. She arched off the desk and he placed a strong arm around her, holding her down. Her whole body trembled with need and as the second orgasm hit her she cried out, head falling backwards and her fingers gripping his hair tightly trying both to pull him against her and push him away. Liquid drizzled from her into Benedict’s mouth, who happily drank everything she gave him. 

Penelope fell back on the desk panting, chest heaving while Benedict sat down on the floor for a couple of minutes catching his breath before he rose. Without a word he walked over to where he stored clean clothes, took one and reached for a water bottle in the cabinet as well. With a wet cloth he cleaned her up carefully and helped her sit up afterwards — her eyes glazed over.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I’m in heaven, floating on clouds.” She smiled at him. “I don’t know if I can walk.”

“I’ll help you, darling.” Benedict grabbed her at her waist and lifted her off the desk. She wobbled slightly when she was put down but he steadied her. “Let’s cool down before we go home. Drink the water and I’ll show you around for a bit.”

Penelope took a few sips of the water as they made their way back into the gallery after quickly cleaning up the room. They walked through the exhibit and he talked amicably about several of the pieces, some she had seen before while others were new to her. Suddenly they stopped in front of one painting, depicting a small girl with red hair sitting with her legs curled to her chest under a willow tree and some of Mayfair's famous houses in the background. 

“Ben, is that?”

“Yes.”

“When did you…?”

“This is actually an old painting of mine, it’s probably about five years old. I found a picture of you in a box full of my father’s old stuff and I remembered that day so clearly because we were all there and you were running around playing with Eloise. At one point you got tired, I think, and you sat down under the tree and Father took the picture. He thought you looked like an angel and seeing that picture brought back so many memories — I simply had to paint it. You have been on my mind unconsciously for the last five or so years, affecting and influencing my work more than I have ever known. And if we count the years you silently supported me with small secret notes and thoughtful gifts, I can willingly admit that you are the one person that has had the greatest impact on me, for that I am forever thankful. I want to show the world just how much I love you and what you mean to me.”

“Ben, I love you too. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank you! I love you, Nel.” Benedict stepped behind her, as she stared at the piece before them — colors vibrant and bright, like a promise of a new dawn. He kissed her shoulder, pulled her back against him and with a light groan he whispered. “If we don’t go now, I believe we will end up on this floor again and before round three I do think we need some refreshments because I’m starving.”

“Benedict, what’s gotten into you tonight?” Penelope giggled and playfully pushed back her hips, making her bottom press against his semi-hard cock, straining against his jeans.

“Nel, I warn you. If we don’t get going, I’m going to fuck you right here, right now, and this spot is not hidden from view.” Benedict breathed heavy in her ear.

“Okay, but I’m up for round three as soon as we get home,” she laughed, turned in his arms and he folded them around her back. He tilted his head down and she stood on her tippy toes as they met in a sweet kiss. 

They separated before the kiss could deepen and Penelope went to collect her discarded coat from the floor in the foyer as Benedict closed down the gallery and picked his jacket from the backroom. Together they stepped out into the cold November evening and the fresh air that hit their hot bodies made them both shiver. Benedict locked the front door and just as they were about to walk in the direction of the nearest tube station, a familiar voice chimed behind them.

“Penelope!” 

Penelope’s body tensed and instinctively Benedict pulled her into his side in an attempt to protect her against what was to come.