Chapter Text
Lansdowne Parsonage
Kent
March 20, 1817
Dear Father,
Thank you for the invitation— I would be delighted to attend Mother’s birthday celebrations this year. Easter falls a week before her birthday, so while the celebrations will be during the Easter season, I will be able to lead the Easter services, and Mr. Morris is certainly able to handle the duties of the parish for a few weeks thereafter.
I will leave at first light on the Monday after Easter, and I should arrive by mid-afternoon the same day, at the latest. This will give Mother plenty of time to drag me off to the tailor, should she despair of all my clothing, as I am sure she will.
Give my love to everyone. I am excited to see you all soon!
Love,
Colin
Colin put down his pen and laid the letter aside to dry.
His father’s letter, though Colin had been pleased to receive it, felt a bit more like a summons than an invitation. Now that he was twenty-six, it had become obvious that his parents were ready for him to find a bride. Never mind that Anthony had remained unmarried until he was nearly thirty, or that Benedict was thirty and had yet to marry. Colin was a parson, his father having given him a living shortly after he took orders, and now his parents thought it was high time for him to marry.
Where they thought he might find a bride among the debutantes of London, Colin was entirely unsure. He was much more likely to find a wife here in Kent, a young woman of the gentry who would not mind her role as a minister’s wife in a middling parish. While Colin had escaped the endless balls and musicales and soirées his brothers had been subjected to, he suspected that he knew just what sort of woman lurked there, and she would not be happy in the quiet, steady life that Colin had built here at Lansdowne.
Still, he loved his parents, and they had invited him to visit at a time that didn’t conflict with the liturgical calendar, so off he would go to London and allow himself to be paraded around.
Pushing back his chair, he stood and shrugged into his jacket. He had several parishioners to visit that afternoon— the Smith twins had missed services the week before due to bad colds, and Mrs. Johnson was recovering from a sprained ankle.
He didn’t have favorite parishioners, of course, but Mrs. Johnson had a wry wit, and she frequently pinched Colin’s cheek and told him that if she were forty years younger, she was sure he’d have already proposed. Colin, in turn, could flirt outrageously with her and no one would think a thing of it.
Come to think of it, perhaps his parents were right. It was high time that he stop flirting with widows of sixty-five, and start considering women closer to his own age.
***
One evening in late March, as the family ate supper, Eloise’s father said, in a voice that was deliberately sedate, “Your brother will be coming to town for several weeks to celebrate your mother’s birthday.”
The table exploded with noise. Gregory and Hyacinth cheered and Francesca clapped her hands together.
“I have so wanted him to meet John— that is, Lord Kilmartin,” she said, as her parents gave her twin looks of admonishment.
Eloise, for her part, was thrilled. Colin had always been great fun, although he was a bit more serious now that he had taken up a place in the church.
“Do Anthony and Benedict and Daphne know yet?” she asked.
“No,” her mother said. “We just received his letter today, but perhaps you could call on them tomorrow and let them know.”
“Oh, but Penelope is meant to come for tea tomorrow,” she said, and her father laughed.
“It will be Monday tomorrow, Violet, and Penelope and Eloise have secret affairs to discuss on Mondays,” her father teased.
She made a silly face at him. Her father had always encouraged her friendship with Penelope, deeming her “a very sensible young lady and a good influence on you.” It was true. Penelope did tend to have a soothing influence on her, and she was typically able to talk Eloise out of at least some of her more devious schemes.
“When will Colin arrive?” Gregory asked.
“He plans to lead the Easter services at Lansdowne on the sixth, and then he will leave early on the morning of the seventh, and will probably arrive here around mid-day the same day.”
Hyacinth sat up a little straighter. “When will he leave? Will he have enough time to play with us?”
“Well,” their mother said, “he didn’t say exactly when he would return to Lansdowne, but he said that Mr. Morris could take over his duties for a few weeks, so I believe he will probably be here through the end of April. And I’m sure that he will have time to play with you, Hyacinth.”
“Especially when he has a choice between playing with the two of you and attending balls,” their father said.
“Edmund!” their mother said, but she was smiling as she said it, and Eloise could tell that they were both glad that the family would all be back together, or at least would all be in the same city.
***
When Humboldt showed Penelope to the private sitting room that afternoon, she found an array of Bridgertons, from little Hyacinth all the way up to Lady Bridgerton, who always asked Penelope to call her Violet. Penelope did, when she remembered, but more often than not, she had to be reminded. It simply felt strange, especially as she was not a member of the family.
Eloise looked up and saw her even before she was announced. She sprang to her feet and crossed to embrace Penelope.
“Guess what?” she trilled.
“You have accepted an offer of marriage from Lord Huntington,” she said, and Eloise looked at her askance, until she realized that Penelope was teasing.
“Oh, haha,” she said drolly. “Perhaps I shouldn’t tell you, and just leave you to wonder.”
“Very well,” Penelope said, “I suppose I shall just have to ask someone else. Perhaps Kate will tell me.”
“I will absolutely tell you,” Kate said, her eyes sparkling.
Eloise huffed. “Fine. But you really shouldn’t joke about Lord Huntington. What if someone heard you and believed it was true?”
“Only your family is here, Eloise.”
“Oh, alright,” she said. “Colin is coming to town! He will come the day after Easter and will be staying for several weeks.”
Penelope smiled. “That will be lovely, I’m sure. I know that you all miss him.”
“You’ve never met Colin, have you, Penelope?” Kate asked.
“No, I don’t believe so. I’ve heard a great deal about him, though,” she said. “I look forward to meeting him.”
Eloise gave her a considering look. “I think you’ll like him. He’s very cheerful, but he can be quite annoying. Although,” she said, her voice thoughtful, “he has improved since he was ordained and obtained a living.”
“Come now, Eloise,” Violet said. “Colin is a very nice young man, and he is devoted to his parishioners. I’m sure that he won’t annoy Penelope at all.”
“No,” Eloise said bracingly, “I believe I will be the the target of that behavior.”
“Eloise, do not attempt to put Penelope off your brother, if you please.”
“Of course, Mother. I wouldn’t dream of it.” She turned to Penelope. “You will have to come over for tea when Colin arrives.”
“Won’t he want it to be just your family?”
“Of course not. He loves chatting with people. Anyway, he’s heard so much about you that he’d probably find it strange if you weren’t there.”
“Oh, if you think I won’t be intruding—”
They all assured her that she would be more than welcome, so she made plans to be at tea the following Monday.
Truthfully, she was looking forward to meeting Mr. Colin Bridgerton. He had taken on a sort of mythical status amongst the Bridgertons, born of distance and his cheerful disposition. Having been told that he greatly resembled his older brothers, she knew that he must be handsome; however, it was the reports of his friendly nature that made him seem the most appealing of all of the Bridgerton brothers.
***
Colin had arrived at Bridgerton House at one o’clock to great fanfare. All his siblings had gathered, including the married ones and their spouses and children. Once he had been sufficiently hugged and exclaimed over, the whole family moved, almost as one, into the drawing room.
He withdrew to clean off the road dust, then hurried back downstairs to join the rest of them.
When he’d been there just fifteen minutes, Humboldt appeared in the door of the sitting room, a young lady behind him.
“Miss Penelope Featherington.”
Eloise let out a cry of, “Pen!” and scampered across the room to drag her friend inside.
Colin put his teacup down with a great deal of force— so roughly, in fact, that he was surprised it hadn’t broken. He’d never paid much attention to Eloise’s friends when they were younger, but there was nothing that could drag his attention away now.
Miss Featherington’s skin glowed, as did the highlights in her hair. She had a sweet, shy smile on her face, and now that Eloise had brought her closer, he saw that her eyes sparkled brightly. She was petite and curvy, and Colin found himself thinking things about her breasts that no member of the clergy ought to think in a drawing room, let alone one belonging to his parents.
“Penelope, I want to introduce you to my brother, Mr. Colin Bridgerton. Colin, this is my dearest friend, Miss Penelope Featherington.”
Colin managed to mumble something appropriate about being glad to make her acquaintance, and he thought he saw a hint of a blush on her cheeks.
Eloise and Miss Featherington sat down across from him, and at first, he found himself stumbling over his words, which was ridiculous. He spoke for a living, after all. But Miss Featherington was just so pretty, and when he looked at her, he became as tongue-tied as a school boy.
Fortunately, she was the sort of person who was easy to talk to, so the longer they spoke, the less nervous he became, until he was speaking with her as though he had known her all his life.
He was finally pulled away when his brothers began to loudly tease him about using Miss Featherington to avoid them, but he did arrange to escort her, along with Eloise, as they promenaded the next day.
He bowed to her as he walked away, and once again, it seemed that color rose on her cheeks when she looked at him. The knowledge that he might have affected her the way she had affected him filled Colin with a warm, comfortable feeling.
***
Mr. Colin Bridgerton was the best looking man she had seen in all her life. Strictly speaking, she knew that was not true, for he was almost identical to his brothers, and she had known them for years. But there was something good-natured and genuine and agreeable about his face, and Penelope thought that she could look at him without ceasing for the rest of her life.
And he had been so kind.
He had asked Penelope about herself, and he had really listened, and he had answered her questions about himself without a hint of irritation.
When his brothers had pulled him away, he had seemed reluctant to go, and he had hurriedly offered to accompany Eloise and Penelope on a walk through Hyde Park tomorrow.
Of course, Mr. Bridgerton would not be interested in her. She was plain Penelope Featherington, and he was a Bridgerton, with all the looks and personality that implied.
But maybe he would ask her to dance, and perhaps they would spend time together at Bridgerton House, and even if it never went any further, she could dream about it. And she was sure that she would dream about it.
***
The next day, as soon as the hour for promenading began, Eloise and Mr. Bridgerton arrived at Penelope’s home to collect her. Mr. Bridgerton had brought a book that they had discussed during tea the previous afternoon, which he told her was his own personal copy.
“That way,” he said, with a charming smile, “you will have to return it after you finish it, and then I may have the pleasure of discussing it with you.”
If she did not know better, she would think that he was flirting with her. Fortunately, she was astute enough that she absolutely did know better, so rather than getting caught up in expectations, she would simply allow herself to enjoy the attention.
“And have you been to the Lake District, Mr. Bridgerton?” she asked, taking his proffered arm and walking down the front steps, Eloise trailing behind them.
“I have. I was lucky enough to be able to travel between terms when I was at university, which is why you never saw me here in London during those times. The book I lent you served as a very handy guide during that trip.”
Mr. Bridgerton shepherded her down Brooks Street to Hyde Park, then stopped and turned to look at her.
“From here, Miss Featherington, you will have to be my guide, for I have spent almost no time in London, and I haven’t the slightest idea where one actually goes to promenade.”
Together with Eloise, they determined to walk down to the Serpentine, and there they would make a full circuit of the lake. Mr. Bridgerton told her that he enjoyed walking as a sort of meditative activity, and Penelope, wanting to spend as much time as possible in his presence, slightly overstated her affection for the activity.
So they set out, and Eloise trailed further and further behind them, until at one point they were forced to stop and wait for her to catch up with them.
“If she is meant to be chaperoning us, she is doing a very poor job,” Mr. Bridgerton said, as he tucked Penelope’s arm a bit more firmly into his. “Although I can’t complain about it.”
At this, he smiled at her again, a friendly and engaging smile that took her breath away, even though it was probably the sort of smile he gave to everyone.
“Now,” he said, “have you read any books that you enjoyed recently?”
Penelope confessed to having blazed through Emma, a novel by the author of Pride and Prejudice, and having thoroughly enjoyed it. She did not expect for Mr. Bridgerton to have read it, but to her surprise, he had.
“That doesn’t seem like the sort of story most young men would find themselves reading,” she told him.
“No,” he said, and there was a thoughtful pause. “But several of the young ladies in my parish recommended it, and in a moment of weakness, I agreed. I found the story quite diverting, I admit.”
The conversation continued thus until they had exhausted the topic of Emma, and Penelope, desperate to keep the conversation from ending, cast her mind about for a new topic.
“How did you become a minister?” she asked, and immediately flushed. “I’m sorry. I know it isn’t any of my business. You don’t have to answer.”
“Oh, I am happy to tell you. My father feels it important for younger sons to have an occupation, and the life of a soldier was not appealing. May I be honest?” he asked in a low tone.
She nodded.
“The life of a clergyman did not sound appealing to me, either, but I have found myself quite suited to it.”
“Really? How so?”
“Well, I have discovered that I truly enjoy writing and delivering sermons, and visiting with parishioners is pleasant and interesting.” He went on to detail some of the other tasks he had in his purview as minister, and how they suited him, and Penelope was enraptured as he spoke. He was so different from the other young men of the ton, who talked about horses and gambling and young ladies. She had thought, when she met him yesterday, that Mr. Colin Bridgerton might be the perfect man, and she had learned nothing today to contradict that thought.
She knew that he would never offer for her, but she had never met a young man she liked as much as she liked him. So she would enjoy his attention while she had it, and when he returned to Kent and found a wife, she hoped his family would not tell her too much about it.
***
Colin knew that he was talking about himself too much. It was just that Miss Featherington kept asking him about himself, and he liked to see the pleased and interested look on her face when he answered her questions. She looked as though she was solving a puzzle, slotting each new piece into the larger picture of him, and greatly enjoying doing so.
Finally, there was such a break in conversation as to allow him to ask about her. He discovered that she, too, enjoyed writing, though she blushed when he asked her what she liked to write. She finally stammered out something about letters, but Colin suspected it was probably a novel, or perhaps sentimental poetry.
For a wild moment, he thought that perhaps she could write letters to him, but of course she could not. They were not related, or engaged, and he was a man of the church, and it would be completely improper.
Perhaps they might be able to send each other messages through Eloise’s letters. Colin was only a sporadic correspondent when it came to Eloise, but if it allowed him to communicate with Miss Featherington, he would write to her daily.
Eloise had drifted away again, so he and Miss Featherington stopped in the shade of a tree to wait for her. The dappling of sun and shadow played across her face, and Colin thought again how pretty she was.
***
His mother caught him as soon as they walked through the door.
“You’ll ask Miss Featherington to dance tomorrow night, won’t you, Colin?” his mother asked, but he could hear in her voice that it was more of a demand.
“Of course,” he said smoothly. He wondered why his mother found it necessary to instruct him to ask Miss Featherington to dance. If anything, he hoped he would be able to get a spot on her dance card.
In fact, he probably should have asked her this afternoon, but he had been so caught up in their conversation that he hadn’t thought of it. If it wouldn’t be too terribly forward, he would go back over to her house and put his bid in right then, but he supposed that he would simply have to find her first thing when they arrived at the ball.
Just as he was peering across Grosvenor Square to determine whether or not he should go back and ask her, his mother ordered him upstairs so that she could approve his clothing for the Danbury Ball the following evening. He did not wish to gainsay his mother, so he followed meekly behind her, and submitted to the ordeal of suiting. He did not have his own valet, not needing one in his position, so his father’s valet stepped in to perform the office.
Once his mother had deemed him entirely appropriate, she reminded him again to ask Miss Featherington to dance, and then released him to play with Gregory and Hyacinth, who had been vying for his attention since he had arrived.
He should have payed them more attention, but he had been so caught up in thoughts of Miss Featherington that he’d been neglectful to his younger siblings. They passed a pleasant few hours together in the garden, until they were called in for supper, and all three of them were scolded for not tidying up before arriving at the supper table.
***
Penelope had found herself a pleasant little corner in the conservatory, an out-of-the-way spot where she knew that Eloise would still find her. Indeed, Eloise did find her fairly quickly, and she had her brother in tow.
The expression on his face was sheepish, and it was obvious what had taken place— his mother had pressed him to ask Penelope to dance.
And that was exactly what happened. Mr. Bridgerton bowed to her, wished her a pleasant evening, and asked her for a dance— whichever one she had available. She held out her wrist and when Mr. Bridgerton saw her empty dance card, his eyes widened ever so slightly, and Penelope wanted to sink into the floor.
He scratched his name down for two dances. When he bowed to her again and walked away, leaving her to chat with Eloise, she took a surreptitious glance at the card and saw that he had taken the first set and the supper set. No one had ever taken Penelope’s supper set before, and she did not like to think that it was because his mother had forced him to. Still, she thought, she had enjoyed walking with him the previous day, and dining with him was sure to be quite pleasant as well.
***
It took two carriages to convey the whole family to the conservatory Lady Danbury had let for the ball, and that was with his married siblings taking their own carriages. When they arrived, Colin bowed to Eloise’s greater experience and followed her off to find Miss Featherington. They located her in an isolated corner, tucked away from everyone else.
He bowed and asked her for a dance, hoping that she still had one remaining. She smiled up at him, and his whole chest filled with a sense of joy and tenderness. Then, the sweet, joyful look on her face vanished, replaced by a nervous, cornered appearance, and Colin could not understand why.
Miss Featherington extended her wrist and he took her dance card in his hand. Far from being full, it was completely empty. It was hard to believe that her dance card was not brimming with names, but perhaps she had simply not seen many gentlemen yet. At any rate, he jotted his name down for two sets, delighting in the fact that he would be able to sit with her at supper, and left her with Eloise so that they could visit before the dancing began.
As he made his way around the ballroom, he ran into a few old school friends, who kidded him about finally giving up his rustication in the country. Fife and his cronies were really more acquaintances, and not ones with whom Colin wanted to spend a great deal of time, but he hadn’t seen Macclesfield this evening, and Benedict had disappeared as soon as they arrived, so he might as well catch up with them.
“So your parents have summoned you back from the country to find a bride, Bridgerton?”
Colin gave a lazy shrug. They probably had, but Fife didn’t need to know that.
“Who’ll you be dancing with this evening? Have you had time to ask anyone?”
“Penelope Featherington,” he said, and before he could get her full name out, Cho snorted a laugh and was elbowed in the side by Fife.
“She’s a friend of your sister, isn’t she?” he asked, and Colin nodded.
“She and Eloise are good friends, and she seems like a very sweet girl.”
Cho snickered again. “And I’ll bet your mother told you to ask her.”
She had, but again, that wasn’t something they needed to know. “She’s a lovely young lady,” he said staunchly. “I’m very happy to be spending time with her. In fact, I need to go find her for our first dance.”
He gave the barest of bows and turned to make his way through the crowd. If he knew Eloise, she and Miss Featherington were still in just the same spot, so he headed that way.
He found Miss Featherington again as the first set was forming, and she proved to be a joy to dance with— her movements were light and graceful, and she smiled at him— a luminous smile that made him lose his breath.
The dance was lively, and there was little opportunity for conversation, but they tried to make it all the same. They were largely unsuccessful, but Miss Featherington kept her good humor throughout, and Colin was glad that he would have the opportunity to talk with her in greater depth at supper.
Rather than return her to her mother, which would have meant that he’d need to go back out and chat with fellows like Fife and Cho, Colin got Miss Featherington a glass of lemonade and stayed to visit with her.
In the midst of a conversation about the Greek Isles, which they discovered they had both longed to see, Colin’s mother bustled over. There were, she told him, several young ladies without a partner, and as he had already engaged Miss Featherington for two dances, he ought to find another young lady to dance with.
She offered to bring Miss Featherington back to her mother, and to introduce Colin to a young lady whom he might partner. Colin reluctantly agreed, and assured Miss Featherington that he was eager to continue their conversation during supper.
***
As Mr. Bridgerton left, he bowed to her, and Penelope though that she saw him lift his hand, then drop it, as though he had wanted to take her hand, but thought better of it.
He was so charming and friendly and interesting. Had Lady Bridgerton not come over to spirit him away, Penelope thought she could have talked to him all night. Still, she could not begrudge him dancing with other young ladies. She was certain that he had asked her because his mother had told him to ask young ladies to dance, and Penelope was one of the only young ladies he knew. In fact, she thought, he may very well have asked because his mother directly told him to ask Penelope. But even if she had, he had been more attentive to Penelope than she could have hoped for, and it left her with a warm, comfortable feeling inside.
She stood by a column, sipping her lemonade and listening to a conversation between Lady Trowbridge and Lady Derwent, occasionally catching a glimpse of Mr. Bridgerton as he and his partner moved across the floor.
At last, the fourth set was called. Mr. Bridgerton came to collect her and they took up their spots on the floor. This dance was more sedate than their first, and she relished the opportunity to converse with him.
“You do not come frequently to town, do you, Mr. Bridgerton?”
He smiled ruefully. “I have to admit, I have never enjoyed town as much as my siblings do. I relished the opportunity to grow up at Aubrey Hall, and as my parish is quite close to it, I do not feel as though I have had to leave.”
“Do you live at Aubrey Hall, then?”
“Oh, no. I live in the parsonage— Lansdowne.”
Penelope wanted to ask what the parsonage was like— how many rooms it had, whether it had been recently decorated, whether the glebe was attractive and productive. But that would be awfully forward, and would look as though she was putting herself forward as someone Mr. Bridgerton should court. They had known each other for such a short time, and he was so terrifically unlikely to pursue her, that such questions would only make her look desperate.
“You look as thought you want to say something, Miss Featherington.”
“No, I— I was only wondering what your parsonage is like. We do not have a living within our estate.”
A smile spread across his face. “The house is flanked by several large trees, which provide excellent shade in the summer. It has just three bedrooms, but they are large and well-appointed. My parents, I believe, carried out a few renovation projects during the time the position of rector was unfilled.”
“How lucky you are to have received a living at your age.”
“Yes, it was fortunate that Mr. Huntley, the previous rector, retired not long after I took orders. He and his wife live in Bath now. She was suffering from poor health, but I believe that the waters have helped, to a degree.”
The dance ended and Mr. Bridgerton led Penelope in to supper, taking her to a seat and going to fix her a plate.
When he returned, he took up the place at her side, and she asked about the distance between Lansdowne and Aubrey Hall.
From there, their conversation flowed to Penelope’s childhood and her mother’s decided preference for town over the country.
“In fact, I have only been to our estate a handful of times, but I greatly enjoyed being out in nature. It is so different from living in town, but I imagine that it is very enjoyable to live in the country all of the time.”
“I find that it is. I thoroughly enjoyed spending my childhood in the country.”
Supper passed in a flurry of conversation, and Penelope found herself amazed that she was able to converse with Mr. Bridgerton so easily. Normally, the presence of a handsome young man— or indeed, any young man— left her tongue-tied and nervous. But with him, it was as easy to talk as it was with Eloise.
Mr. Bridgerton had expressed regret that he would not be able to dance with her a third time that evening, and just when she thought he would offer to station himself by her for the rest of the evening, Eloise swooped in. She spirited Penelope away to a corner to discuss the dance partner her mother had foisted on her for the supper set, and as they walked away, Penelope saw Mr. Bridgerton heading in the direction of the card room.
***
The next morning found Colin in his father’s study.
“Father, can you tell me something? Is there something wrong with Miss Featherington that I should know about?”
His father tilted his head. “Not that I know of. Why do you ask, Colin?”
“Well, I’ve enjoyed spending time with her, and dancing with her, but—” He stopped, trying to think how he might phrase his concern. “When I mentioned her last night, all the other men laughed. She seems like a sweet young lady, so I cannot understand why.”
Leaning back in his chair, Colin’s father looked at him assessingly. “I have always found Miss Featherington to be a cheerful, pleasant young lady, and she has certainly been an excellent friend to your sister. Perhaps we should ask your mother. She is much more likely to know the answer to your question than I am.”
Before they could even ring for a servant to find her, Colin’s mother appeared in the doorway of the study, as though she knew they wished to speak with her.
Colin repeated his question, and his mother paused for a moment, her face pensive.
“Of course there is nothing wrong with Penelope, dear.”
“Then why did Fife and the others react that way?”
“Penelope has always been quite—shy. And her mother had her out in society earlier than she would have liked, at an age when she still felt quite awkward. I believe the impressions she made during that season have lingered.”
It was difficult to fathom. Miss Featherington was very easy to talk to, cheerful and funny and clever. The notion that anyone might not like her, might laugh at the very idea of her, was absurd to Colin.
Still, he was glad that there was nothing about Miss Featherington that would prevent him from spending time with her.
In fact, now that he knew, he and Eloise could call on her and ask her to promenade that afternoon. Just before his sister had separated them the previous evening, Miss Featherington had been telling him about a book she was reading, a travel report by Goethe. Colin, who had longed to go to Italy and had not had the chance, was eager to hear more about it.
***
The next two weeks slipped by, and Colin found himself spending every spare minute with Miss Featherington. His younger siblings were desperate to spend time with him, and he was desperate to spend time with her, and so they often formed a little pack— Colin, Miss Featherington, Eloise, Gregory and Hyacinth. Miss Featherington was such a good sport, laughing and teasing his siblings and never making them feel left out of the group.
They played a variety of games at Gregory and Hyacinth’s behest— hopscotch and hoop-rolling and hide-and-seek.
Then, when Gregory and Hyacinth tired themselves out, he and Miss Featherington would seat themselves on a garden bench, laughing and talking and sharing books with one another. Eloise was an indifferent chaperone, situating herself as far away from them as possible while still ostensibly providing chaperonage.
After their weeks of togetherness, Colin had begun to dream, and those dreams were all of a future with Miss Featherington, happy and cozy in their little parsonage.
He had quite a good living, and his father had settled a decent sum on him, which was now invested in the four per cents. He was able to pay a curate, and even had a man of all work to help with tasks around the glebe. He was invited to dine with parishioners several times a week. All in all, he was doing much better at his age than many members of the clergy might ever do.
But Miss Featherington was a debutante. She’d spent years going to balls and musicales, operas and fancy dinner parties, and he could not imagine that he, a simple vicar, could ever tempt her to give all that up.
Perhaps she might be interested if he had aspirations beyond being a regular clergyman— if he wanted to become an archdeacon or a dean or a bishop. But he had no desire to do such a thing. He was, he found, perfectly happy with the life he led. His parishioners liked and trusted him, and they were a likable bunch in return. He enjoyed writing and delivering sermons, and they were typically well-received. At the very least, he hadn’t noticed many people dozing off during them. The parsonage was pleasant and its setting, as the principal parish for Aubrey Hall, kept him near his family when they were in residence.
It was a simple life, and not something that most debutantes— or their mothers— would expect when they entered the marriage mart.
But there was something about Miss Featherington that stirred his heart, and he suspected that if he didn’t ask her to marry him, he’d regret it quite a bit in the future.
***
“Mr. Bridgerton!” She smiled up at him as she curtsied, and his breath caught in his throat.
“How pleasant it is to see you,” she continued, guiding him to a settee and sitting down next to him. “I had just ordered a fresh pot of tea and some biscuits. Would you like a cup?”
The thrum of nerves that had set in as he’d dressed and made his way to her house melted away. With only a few words, she was able to set him completely at ease, and this realization strengthened his resolve. The reward of Miss Featherington accepting his proposal made the risk of her declining him worth it. And Colin rather suspected, with the pretty blush gracing her cheeks when she looked at him, that she would not decline him.
“Mama and my sisters have gone to the modiste. I’m afraid you just missed them.”
“That’s alright,” Colin said, “for I really came to ask for a private audience with you.”
“Oh!” she cried, and her cheeks went even pinker.
She did not look averse to him, though, and Colin plowed ahead. He wished he could reach out and take her hand in his, but they were already skirting the rules of propriety by being alone in the drawing room, even though the door was open.
So he looked deeply into her eyes and spoke.
“Miss Featherington, I know that we have not known each other for long, but I hold you in such great esteem, and I so enjoy spending time with you, that I hope you will consent to be my wife.”
Miss Featherington’s face fell. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I cannot.”
“Oh.” Tears welled in Colin’s eyes, and his throat felt tight. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you would say yes, as I cannot offer you the lifestyle you are used to, but I like you so much that I had to try.”
“Oh! I want to, Mr. Bridgerton, but I truly cannot.”
“Then you are betrothed to someone else.”
“No, I—” she paused and took several fortifying breaths. “I am Lady Whistledown.”
“Oh.” All the air seemed to have gone out of the drawing room, and Colin struggled to draw a breath.
Miss Featherington stared down at her hands, in which she twisted her handkerchief.
“So you see why I must say no. I am not suitable to be the wife of a clergyman. I would dearly love to say yes.”
There were tears shining in her eyes as well, and Colin wanted to take her in his arms and kiss them away. But she was right. A gossip columnist was not a suitable wife for a man of the church. First and foremost, his parishioners must be able to trust that he would keep their confidences. A minister’s wife was often treated with the same level of trust as her husband, and this news cast doubt on whether or not Miss Featherington would be able to maintain that level of trust.
The silence between them dragged on and on, but Colin could not make himself get up to leave. He could not make himself say that she wasn’t suitable to be his wife. He could not bring himself to look away from her sweet, sorrowful face.
She looked back at him, and Colin tried to memorize her features. Finally, her gaze fell to her lap, and Colin was forced to look away.
He stood. “I have truly enjoyed getting to know you, Miss Featherington, and I hope that we can be friends in the future.”
Miss Featherington took a deep breath, and then another. “And I have truly enjoyed every moment that I have spent with you, Mr. Bridgerton. I will always think about you with fondness.”
Then there was nothing more to say. Colin could not possibly expect Miss Featherington to see him out, so he bowed and left the drawing room, praying that he encountered no one before he reached the safety of his bedroom at Bridgerton House.
Thank goodness he had not been foolish enough to ask his parents for one of the Bridgerton rings, instead assuming that Miss Featherington would prefer to select her own ring from the family collection.
In what must have been a minor miracle, he did not see anyone in Grosvenor Square, and none of his family seemed to be about. Back in his room, he closed the door and flopped down on the bed.
He had accepted that Miss Featherington might refuse him, but he’d never expected her rejection to be like this. This was an insurmountable obstacle, and his heart had never ached so badly.
***
Through the dreadful emptiness, Penelope said a grateful prayer that Mr. Bridgerton hadn’t stayed long after she turned him down. At any point, she might have relented and begged him to accept her anyway, even with her confession— except now that Mr. Bridgerton knew her secret, he would not want her anymore.
She looked down at her lap. The handkerchief she had been holding was in tatters, and she did not remember tearing it. She crumpled it in her fist and stood to cross to the front window.
Had Mr. Bridgerton gone straight home? Had he told his family about his proposal? What would they think of her now— of her turning him down, of her being Lady Whistledown?
She had never expected a proposal of marriage— no man had been interested in her in all of her seasons, after all— and now she had had to decline such an offer from Mr. Bridgerton, who was the most wonderful man she had ever met.
She stumbled to her bedchamber, where she found herself lying, fully dressed, on her bed.
She could not have said yes, no matter how much she wished it. For a wild moment, she wished she had had not told Colin about being Lady Whistledown, and just accepted him. But a lie of omission was still a lie, and it was no way to begin a marriage to a minister.
So there was no way out.
She had done this to herself, and she could not think of a more bitter medicine to swallow.