Chapter Text
Exhausted, disgruntled and with a stomach unsettled with nerves, Colin stumbled toward the first carriage with a Bridgerton crest he came across.
The afternoon had been a trial from start to finish (with only the smallest of reprieves in that small moment he stood at his wife’s side). It was a cruel twist of fate that Daphne had chosen that particular moment of calm to remind him of one very significant component of becoming a married man, one he had somehow overlooked in the upheaval of the day… the wedding night.
He immediately felt foolish for his oversight, even if he did not have first-hand experience with the act itself, he had known what would be required on his wedding night for a very long time. But now he had to contend with the act, not in maybes and somedays, but the present… with Penelope.
The prospect was terrifying.
Perhaps it wouldn’t have been so but a year ago. Back when Penelope was the sweet neighbour from across Grosvenor’s Square, someone he enjoyed conversing with when he had occasion to and who more than once had surprised and impressed him with the sharp crack of her wit, but a girl who ultimately was far more his little sister’s best friend than his own.
But things had changed in the year that passed. Far more than he allowed even himself to acknowledge.
He had underplayed how much Penelope’s letters had meant to him – to her, to his family, to himself. Although he had always found her sweet comments to him charming, something had fundamentally changed once they had started regularly corresponding. Her capacity to find worth in the innermost thoughts he committed to paper, particularly at a time when Colin himself could find very little worth in himself, was at times the only thing that kept him from unravelling entirely on the long, sea salt-scented nights he spent alone and sleepless in Greece. And her sharp wit, which had reared its head only rarely during their spoken conversations, had been about the only thing capable of making him laugh while he struggled to unburden himself from the weight of regrets and guilt surrounding the situation with Marina.
Even since he had been home, he had reread her letters – to wring joy from her quips and to fortify himself against the doubts plaguing him – more times than he would be willing to admit.
Colin understood her unique way of seeing the world and her capacity to see him the way he had always wished to be seen, was likely a product of Penelope’s enduring kindness. No doubt Penelope had that effect on everyone she interacted favourably with (and it was no wonder Eloise loathed to be parted from her given feelings of joy and worthiness Penelope could bestow upon those in her presence). But even so, Colin found was not willing to lose even an inch of the good opinion he had somehow gained in Penelope’s eyes.
If Colin had been forced to marry someone else, he probably would have fumbled his way through the martial act, relying on his second-hand knowledge and falling back on his charm to smooth over any mistakes or awkwardness.
But this was Pen.
Pen who at times had propped up his self-worth singlehandedly. Pen who could draw laughter from his lips with a clever turn of phrase even when he was in the most maudlin of moods. Pen who sometimes with a mere look could make him feel 100 feet tall. Pen who he had known and tried to protect their whole lives as he would his own siblings.
And the very same Pen who was an avid romance reader and no doubt dreamed of being swept off her feet into the arms of someone tall, dark and experienced.
Colin did not like it, but he could handle disappointing the ton, his friends, the Queen, even his own family. It was almost expected he would – a previously wayward third son stumbling into a role he had no prior training for.
But disappointing Pen was something he could not abide.
It had been these thoughts that had prompted him to seek out Benedict. Another in a long line of mistakes made that day. Not only had Benedict been singularly unhelpful, guffawing at his shaky attempts to seek answers, but by the time Colin had returned to seek out his new wife, he had been informed by a conspiratorial Daphne that Penelope was with her mother having a very important conversation. The details of said important conversation were still entirely unknown to Colin because Daphne had been extremely closed-lipped beyond that.
When Colin did finally locate his new bride, having her poor ear talked off by Eloise again, Penelope had hardly looked at him. At his mention of sharing a carriage together, she had mumbled something about travelling in her family’s carriage and meeting him at Hastings House later with her luggage.
It was not as if he could blame her for the cold shoulder, he had made a dog’s breakfast of their entire wedding, from disastrous start to exhausting finish. What with getting the ball rolling in the first place with his lack of etiquette, the bungling of his attempt to talk the queen out of her rash plan to marry them in Anthony’s place, the spectacle he had made of their kiss at the altar, and now his inability to even remain by her side for longer than an hour of their reception.
They hadn’t even had a chance to dance together, which was an utter crime as far as Colin was concerned. He had the impression that Penelope very much enjoyed dancing and Colin considered himself a rather good dancer by the standards of the gentlemen of the ton. If he couldn’t give her the wedding night she deserved, he wished he could have at least given her a wedding dance to remember.
Colin exhaled heavily and yanked the door open. Two gleeful faces peered at him from inside the carriage.
“No,” he said, moving to slam the door shut, but his attempts were foiled by the arm of an obnoxiously grinning Benedict.
“Where do you think you are going, brother?” Benedict crowed.
“You cannot honestly say you’d prefer to ride with Anthony and Eloise,” Daphne teased.
“I think I might. I would much prefer their propensity for lectures and the risk of being thrown up on by Anthony to whatever torture you two have concocted,” Colin said. “… or better yet, perhaps I should simply walk back to Mayfair.”
“Oh, come now, brother, we’re not going to torture you.” Benedict grabbed Colin’s arm and directed him up the small ladder forcing him on the cushioned seat beside him. Daphne grinned at him from her seat opposite.
“Ugh, fine. But I’ll have you know I jumped out of a moving carriage in Patras, and I am not afraid to do so again,” Colin warned.
“It will not come to that,” Daphne said, placatingly, but the glint in her eyes and the wide grin on Benedict’s face were not the least bit reassuring. Benedict tapped the roof and the carriage began crunching down the long palace drive. “So, Benedict tells me you had a very interesting conversation by the refreshments.”
“Glad to hear confidentiality is such a strongly held value of yours, brother,” Colin grumbled at Benedict.
“In my defence, Daphne could wrestle secrets from the lips of Napoleon’s favourite spy, I don’t know how I was supposed to hold up.”
“Oh, come now, Colin,” Daphnes said, leaning forward. “We merely wish to help.”
“You wish to meddle, you mean,” Colin said. “And to laugh at my embarrassment.”
“Well, perhaps a little… but can we not do so while also providing pertinent advice?”
Colin scoffed. But what other choice did he have? It was too late to rectify the situation any other way. He would not lie with another now that he was married, no matter how instructional it may be. Advice was all he had. And if he had to embarrass himself to get it then he would do so for Penelope’s sake.
“Fine.” Colin exhaled. His tired eyes fell closed for a moment as he gathered the courage reveal his vulnerability to now two of his siblings. “I’ve boarded at Eton, and I’ve spent countless evenings at White’s listening to the sordid tales of so-called gentlemen… the mechanics of it, I am familiar with… at least, in theory… but I only wish to… to not to make it terrible for her. I have heard that first time can be… unpleasant for a lady if not done right and I also know that she… she is widely read in the subject of romance and I do not wish for her to be left unhappy… or wanting. It is the least I can do after the role I played in trapping her into this marriage.”
“That’s actually rather sweet,” Benedict cooed.
“Oh, shut up,” Colin said, crossing his arms protectively over his chest.
“It is sweet,” Daphne said, “and it already puts you leagues ahead of many new husbands in that you actually care to think on such matters.”
“And it is because of that care that I know you will be fine,” Benedict added, his voice suddenly rather serious.
“Exactly,” Daphne said. “If you listen to her –”
“- and watch for her reactions -” Benedict added.
“- all will be well,” Daphne said.
“And if it is not?” Colin could not help but ask. “If I… fail her?”
“Then you will simply try again,” Daphne said, a gentle smile curling on her lips. “In the marriage bed, as in the marriage itself, you are a team. You may find it may take time to align yourselves within this new life, and things may not be perfect from the outset, but you will work together to make them better. That is one of the joys of being wed, you have nothing but time before you.”
Colin nodded, the tension holding his tight to his muscles unfurling slightly. Listening, watching, trying again… he could do that.
“You almost make marriage sound appealing, sister,” Benedict quipped. Daphne rolled her eyes, but Colin was grateful that his brother’s humorous remark had sliced neatly through seriousness that had fallen heavily over the carriage, giving way to the playful light-heartedness he and his siblings usually enjoyed together.
“Now, that we have that out of the way” Daphne said, clapping her hands together gleefully, “it is on to specifics. There is this thing that Simon does with his tongue that is –”
“Daphne!” Colin and Benedict yelled in unison. Colin in horror, Benedict sounding rather impressed.
“I thought you said you wanted advice?” Daphne said, a pout rounding out her bottom lip.
“I do,” Colin said through gritted teeth. “But I also want to continue to be able to look my sister and brother-in-law in the eyes. For all our sakes, can we please keep the specifics… general and hypothetical.”
“Ugh, fine,” Daphne said. “There is a thing that… a man could… hypothetically do with his tongue… that may generally feel simply divine this… hypothetical woman.”
Benedict burst into laughing and Colin slumped in his seat.
It was going to be a very long carriage ride home.
+++
Colin took another look around his childhood bedroom. He had become rather efficient at packing during his summer travels and this practiced efficiency combined with Humboldt’s assistance, resulted in his belongings being packed in a chest and ready to be carried downstairs to the carriage within an hour.
While he was fairly certain nothing had been forgotten, and, even if it had, he could just retrieve it the following day… Colin found himself unable to forego this one last look. His gaze roamed over the furniture he had known for most of his life. The wooden writing desk that had once belonged to his long-deceased uncle. The dresser that was now bare of his clothes. The large bed at the centre, golden sheets were drawn back in welcome even though he would not slip into them tonight, or perhaps ever again.
He was a married man now and although he might visit and might even stay overnight here on occasion, Bridgerton House would never again be his home.
It was a goodbye. One he had not known was coming only that very morning.
Colin shook his head to derail the melancholy direction of his thoughts, he had always known this day would come. He was a third son, never expected to inherit. He was prepared for this, even if the suddenness of it had been a shock.
“Everything in order, Sir?” Humboldt enquired from the door.
“Yes,” Colin cleared his throat, “thank you, Humboldt, for your assistance. Please call the footmen to carry the trunk to the carriage and inform Daphne, I will be down to join her shortly.”
“Very good, Sir.”
Humboldt departed and Colin bade his former bedroom one last lingering look before picking up the small carry bag of his personal affects and descending the stairs.
+++
In the drawing room, Colin was subject to many embraces and tearful goodbyes. It almost reminded Colin of the day he had departed for Greece. Although, as he assured his family, he was not going nearly as far afield this time.
Violet, arms still encasing him in the umpteenth hug of the evening, insisted he and Penelope return to Bridgerton House for breakfast if not the very next day, then at least the day after. Gregory and Hyacinth lent their enthusiastic agreement to their mother’s request. Even Eloise embraced him before he slipped out the door, although she counteracted her uncharacteristic tenderness by insisting on visiting the newlyweds as soon as possible to ensure Penelope had not keeled over in boredom at being constantly subjected to Colin’s travel stories.
It was with a smile on his face and warmth in his heart from his family’s sweet farewell, that Colin, bag in hand, cantered down the stairs toward the darkened entrance hall.
He wasn’t paying much attention to his surroundings and didn’t notice the lone figure lying on their back on the settee. Not until they spoke. Their sharp, slightly slurred voice cut through Colin’s good mood like a butcher’s blade.
“Where are you off to at this time of night?”
Colin slowed stepping off the final step onto the tiled entrance hall with trepidation. He approached Anthony, still reclined on the settee, as one would a particularly disgruntled tiger.
“To Hastings House,” Colin explained, “Daphne has kindly lent it to us for the evening.”
Anthony laughed his head thrown back. But it wasn’t warm sound, it wasn’t even a humorous one. The hairs at the back of Colin’s neck prickled as his searched for something – a joke, an observation, a witticism – anything that could lighten the blackening mood.
“It seems like my childhood bedroom did not pass muster in Daphne’s estimation,” Colin said. He had been going for jovial, but even to his own ears he sounded more repentant than playful.
Anthony snorted another laugh. And for a moment, Colin thought he had done it, he had smoothed over whatever odd mood had permeated the air between them.
“Why not take my apartments?” Anthony said. “After all, you seem to have no problem taking what’s mine.”
Colin’s jaw dropped. “Are you referring to today? To your wedding?”
“What else would I be referring to?” Anthony jerked out of his prone position to his feet, movements erratic and worse for the drink.
“Anthony, you cannot think I planned this?”
Anthony was silent, and the scowl on his brow, foreboding. Colin’s stomach tightened with anxiety, threatening to expel the meagre supper he choked down hours ago now.
“No,” Anthony said eventually. “You could not have done. Nobody knew of Miss Edwina’s plans.” He slumped down onto the settee, head in his hands.
Colin exhaled fully for the first time in several moments. He stepped forward to press a tentative hand to Anthony’s shoulder and wished he had agreed when Benedict suggested seeing Colin out. Benedict always knew exactly what to say to Anthony and had never been afraid to go toe to toe with him. Alone and worn from the events of the day, Colin felt inadequately equipped for either.
“For what it is worth, I am sorry. But perhaps –” he trailed off.
“- perhaps? What? Perhaps it’s for the best - is that what you were going to say?” Anthony said, jerking his head up and looking at Colin through narrow bloodshot eyes. “My wedding falling apart so yours could take place is for the best?”
“That’s not what I meant,” Colin murmured. He stepped away, his hand falling from Anthony’s shoulder and his heart heavy. “I should go, it seems my words are of no comfort to you.”
Colin turned stiffly collecting the bag he had dropped on the floor. And started toward the door, only to be halted by Anthony’s words.
“Off to enjoy your wedding night, then?” Anthony said. “I hope one of you manages to.”
Anthony’s snide words struck against the raw nerve of Colin’s fears.
Colin knew he should just keep walking. Anthony’s words were not those of his brother, they were the poison of a man twisted and broken by bitter disappointment and emboldened by too many spirits.
But perhaps in their harshness was the kind of candour that had been missing from Colin’s talk with Benedict and Daphne. Benedict and Daphne had been supportive and warming in the carriage ride back to Bridgerton House, but they had always been that little bit too protective. Benedict, particularly, but Daphne too, even if she was technically older, seemed to see him as a little brother to be shielded from the world and wrapped in cotton wool.
Anthony, particularly this inebriated and wrathful version of Anthony, had no such compunctions about cushioning Colin against the cold hard realities of life.
“What do you mean by that?” Colin asked unable to stop himself.
“Only that it is clear you have still not heeded my advice,” Anthony said his tone acerbic, “not even after last year’s debacle. You have not prepared yourself for the duties of a husband, as a man should, and now your wife shall pay the price. I pity her, although perhaps your unexpected windfall and new title shall smooth over the worst of her disappointment. At least until she realises her husband is unprepared for that responsibility also.”
It was nothing he hadn’t thought himself over the last few hours, but still the truth from his brother’s lips stuck like a blow to the sternum. Colin was not one to run from conflict, but tonight, the back of his throat burning with the pressure of suppressed tears, Colin’s sureness failed him. He retreated to the door without another word, the cool night air engulfed him, a balm to his burning face.
+++
“Are you alright?” Daphne poked her head out of the carriage where she had been waiting for him.
“Of course,” Colin said. He checked the chest of his belongings had been secured to the back of the carriage and relayed his bag to the footman before climbing into the carriage. Daphne tapped the roof to alert the driver to set off. Colin let his head fall back against the cushioned rest and closed his eyes against the pounding of his head and the echo of the tears he still had not let fall. He needed not to think of it, but the words haunted him, piercing him with each cruel echo.
“Colin?” Daphne pressed a hand to his forearm.
He looked to his sister. Possibly the only one who could even begin to understand. Anthony had always been the hardest on them, the middle siblings. Old enough to remember their father well, but still too young at the time of his death to be any help to him They were just two more millstones strapped around the new Viscount’s neck, but without the saving grace of being young enough for Anthony to gain any satisfaction from moulding and parenting them.
“I had a – run-in with Anthony.”
“Ah,” Daphne said, understanding dawned across her face. “I take it he was not impressed with the – the turns of the day.”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
Daphne squeezed his arm. “Whatever he said, try not to take it to heart.”
“It is difficult not to… when it’s,” Colin swallowed against the painful lump in his throat, “when nothing he said is untrue.”
Daphne’s mouth pinched in worry.
“Our loved ones always know how to hurt us best,” Daphne murmured. “And lashing out is… well, it feels as if it has become something of a crutch for Anthony of late. Not to excuse him, but after today he must feel embarrassed. All that talk of how he would be marrying Miss Edwina to fulfil his duty to the family. How all his obvious misery at the prospect of their nuptials was for our family’s sake. And yet it was you, his little brother, that protected our family from the scandal that could have erupted from the failure of his plan.
“I am not saying he hasn’t had it hardest of all of us since dear Papa passed and I do not envy him his position. But by God, has he made this wedding business far more difficult than was ever required and, in doing so, set into motion the events that not only hurt himself but also very nearly toppled our family’s reputation within the ton and our good standing with the Queen.”
Daphne shook her head, scoffing to herself as her gaze found the slither of window between the partially drawn curtains – dark except for the glimmer of streetlamps flashing past. Colin watched the fleeting strips of light play across his sister’s face. He knew her well, very well in fact, they had been born with barely a year between them and he had spent all of his formative childhood years in her presence. And because of this, he knew Daphne was holding back, there was something she knew that she had not said. Something about the bungled nuptials that had set the day's events in motion.
Looking away from his sister’s troubled profile, Colin sorted through his memories. He, like Daphne, had always been rather good at acting as a barometer for his sibling’s emotions and getting to the bottom of his sibling’s various secrets.
“It’s the elder sister, isn’t it? Miss Kate Sharma?” Colin said comprehension dawning on him alongside a creeping horror. Daphne’s gaze flashed to him, her expression confirming his guess in an instant. “Christ… how did I not… he is always talking of her, of how stubborn and irritating she is. I thought they were rivals… but I should have known, with the sheer amount she came up in conversation with him. Far more than Miss Edwina ever did.”
“The talking of her is the least of it,” Daphne murmured, perhaps not fully intending her quip to be audible – but Colin had caught every damning word.
“You can’t mean…” Colin sputtered, “you’ve caught them… doing something?”
Daphne pressed her lips together, clearly a little torn about divulging more.
“I caught them…” Daphne whispered despite being alone together in the carriage, “alone in a room together at Aubury Hall… they were not kissing, but I could not but think they were seconds from it.”
“He was going to marry her sister!” Colin said, outraged on behalf of both Miss Sharmas. Colin knew well of his brother’s rakish tendencies, but this was beyond the pale even for him.
“Keep your voice down,” Daphne scolded. Colin bowed his head chastised. “However, I cannot fault you your surprise… it is quite shocking.”
“So, is that is the reason Miss Edwina fled the altar.”
“I do not know exactly,” Daphne said. “But I highly suspect it. Miss Edwina appeared set on the wedding only days ago at the rehearsal. What else could serve to change her mind so quickly? Perhaps Miss Sharma finally told her sister, or perhaps Miss Edwina uncovered their secret regard for each other herself. I must say once my eyes were opened to the possibility, it was not difficult to catch Anthony’s and Miss Kate’s longing looks toward one another. How I had overlooked it for so long I do not know.”
Daphne shook her head lapsing into silence.
“What will happen to them, the Sharmas?” Colin found himself asking. He did not know either sister well, but during the week they had spent at Aubury Hall, he had warmed to both of them, and to Miss Kate in particular who had a sharp sense of humour and a competitive streak that any Bridgerton worth their salt would appreciate.
“Well, with any luck, your wedding and unexpected elevation will overshadow the scandal and dilute the ill will the Queen might have otherwise held against them. But I do not know, I doubt their reputations will come out entirely unstained.”
“All because Anthony could not decide what he wanted,” Colin said bitterly.
“Oh, I think he decided what he wanted to want well enough. It was only his heart had different plans and this time he was not strong enough to contradict its wishes, not entirely.”
Colin shook his head and looked out the window. In some ways he understood Anthony. After all, Colin had fought for Miss Thompson in the weeks leading up to the Whistledown’s column despite the many objections raised by those around him; neither his mother’s, nor Anthony’s, nor Pen’s warnings had not been enough to dissuade him.
Love, or the perception of love, was a powerful thing.
He could only hope that in Anthony’s case, at least, his regard was returned. Even if that was not enough to save a potential relationship after this scandal… it may at least soothe the sting of the heartbreak that followed.
+++
If it hadn’t been before, within moments of their arrival at Hasting House, it was clear that Daphne was impeccably suited to the role of duch*ess, so seamlessly did she introduce Colin to key household staff and issue orders for the preparation of her brother and new sister-in-law’s stay.
As the staff confidently dispersed to their various tasks, Daphne led Colin up the stairs to the third floor that acted as the guest wing for Hastings House.
“Select whichever room takes your fancy,” Daphne encouraged. “And inform the staff of your choice so they can prepare the room and light the fireplace. I shall slip upstairs to collect my belongings for the night.”
After thanking his sister, Colin peaked through the first door and was met with a large inviting room with honeycomb yellow wallpaper. On one side of the room was a large window currently covered by aquamarine blue curtains. And on the other an enormous, handsome four-poster bed, the golden bedspread atop it was embroidered an intricate design of veins and flowers in the same clear blue thread. Colin’s gaze caught on the bed, nerves erupting in his stomach at the knowledge of what might, in just a few hours, occur within that very room – that very bed.
He averted his gaze and withdrew.
The following three guest rooms were also well-sized and tastefully decorated. But there was something about that first room. It was more than just pleasingly decorated, something about the colours within soothed him despite the strong onset of nerves. When the housekeeper, Mrs Johnson came to find him, he requested a fire be lit in the honeycomb room.
“But perhaps,” Colin said before Mrs Johnson departed, “have my trunk brought to the adjacent room.” He did not want to make any assumptions on Penelope’s behalf and the last thing he wanted was for her to feel pressured to spend the night with him in any capacity – no matter what society may dictate on the matter.
“Very good, Sir,” Mrs Johnson said. If she felt his request was strange, her expression did not reveal it.
+++
The Featherington carriage arrived not long after Daphne departed for Bridgerton House. Colin stepped forward, politely waving away the waiting footman to take Penelope’s hand and assist his new wife out of the carriage.
“Colin,” she greeted, her gaze did not meet his, but Colin tried not to be hurt by her avoidance. No doubt, if he was nervous, she would be too.
“Pen,” Colin said. “I’ve taken the liberty to have a small supper prepared in the dining room while the footmen bring in your belongings. I do not know about yourself but I certainly did not have the opportunity to eat much at the reception.”
“It was a rather chaotic afternoon.” Colin was pleased to see Penelope’s lips curled up in a hint of a smile.
In the dining room, Colin had set his sights on putting Penelope at ease, but somehow he found himself being the one to unwind in her presence. Colin hadn’t fully released how much the day's events had coiled his muscles tight with tension until his anxiety began to unfurl.
She had opened the discussion on his travels again, asking to hear more. Although Colin had found himself recently reticent to talk on the subject given it had become increasingly clear most people were tired of his tales and found his talk of them a bore, alone with Penelope he found himself enjoying talking of them once more. He even found himself expressing the stories he had not let himself share before for fear of ridicule.
He told her of his blunders, delighting in the sound of her laughter as he regaled her with the tale of the misplaced accommodation letter and the night he spent in a barn with an exceedingly friendly goat. He told her of the experiences he had previously kept close and guarded, warming at her smile when he confessed himself so overwhelmed by the beauty of the Acropolis of Athens he had shed a tear.
Colin had always found Penelope easy to talk to and being able to speak to her, at length, without interruption or intrusion, felt like a gift. There was no Eloise to drag Penelope away, no Violet or Portia to send him warning looks for his impropriety, no lords to catch his eye and snigg*r at him, their general disdain for the debutantes clear. He found himself gaining fresh admiration of her boundless empathy and unerring ability to listen; and revelling in her responses and her displays of quick wit and cleverness.
It was both strange and captivating having her attention all to himself, and it was something Colin felt he could very easily become addicted to. Much in the same way he had found himself craving more of her letters even when the last had only just been delivered.
Colin was in good spirits as they finished their dinner and ascended the stairs together, alongside the nerves still swirled in his stomach and Anthony’s words that still battered at the edge of his mind, another feeling had taken hold.
Anticipation.
Beyond the crude talk in gentlemen’s clubs and a few juvenile kisses with a forward young widow, Colin had no idea what it was like to be intimate with another person.
For a long time, this had been purposeful, he had thought it romantic to reserve such intimate acts for the person he planned to spend a lifetime with. After Marina, however, his naïve notions of saving himself for marriage had become yet another source of self-flagellation. But even then, he could not bring himself to seek out those who would strip him of his troublesome innocence. Although the reasoning for his reticence had changed, since his failed engagement the mere thought of being touched and of opening himself up to potentially more manipulation, more humiliation, was not something Colin felt he could endure.
After Daphne had reminded him of his duties on the wedding night, his thoughts had been focused entirely on counteracting his lack of experience and ensuring he could do right by his new bride. Colin had not spared a thought for his own feelings on sharing intimacy with another. With Penelope.
But now that he did, he found that for the first time in his life, he desperately wanted to know what it was like. What would it be like to kiss Penelope, deeply and thoroughly, without the time constraints or a crowd of onlookers? What would it be like to lace their hands together, to run his hands over her creamy soft skin, to tangle fingers in her gorgeous flame-red curls, to pull her against him until he felt each of her luscious curves, to undress her until he not only felt her body but could devour it with his gaze too? In reaction to these thoughts, a desire grew in his navel and pressed against his breeches.
Outside of the door to the honeycomb guest room, Colin paused, his breath heavier and heart rate faster than it had any right to be for simply ascending a flight of stairs.
It was resoundingly clear what he wanted.
But what Penelope wanted - his eyes quickly found Penelope, but her expression was unreadable and her gaze was trained to the ground – of that, he had no idea.
Colin stepped forward, a hand coming to gently rest against her upper arm, her skin softer than he ever could have imagined.
But still, she shirked his gaze.
Colin gathered his courage for one last attempt. He lowered his head toward her. Slowly, deliberately, making his intent clear while giving her time to adjust. She did not react. She did not even look up. Colin’s confidence faulted and he paused, bent over, lips less than an inch from hers.
And then Penelope stepped back. A clear signal of her choice.
Disappointment crashed over him, but he hid it behind the tightening of his jaw. She did not owe him this, she did not owe him anything.
He mirrored her backwards step with one of his own, putting a respectable distance between them and demonstrating his acquiescence to her wishes.
Despite his best efforts, her hand reached behind her, scrambling for the door handle. His heart sank. Was she frightened? Did she really think he would force her?
“Pen,” he said softly, hoping his tone conveyed his apology and his acceptance of her decision.
“It is late and it has been a long day,” Penelope said in a rush still not meeting his sorry gaze.
“Of course, I –” Colin was frantic to smooth over the unease that had sprouted between them while also miserably aware of how desperately she was trying to escape him and utterly unwilling to prolong an interaction she clearly wished to be over. “Of course.”
“Good night, Colin.”
Penelope pried the door behind her open. She wasted not a glance nor another word on him before slipping inside.
“Good night, Penelope,” Colin murmured as the door to the bedroom clicked shut in his face, a quiet herald to the shattering of the tentative hope that had all too briefly flared within him.
