Chapter Text
Dearest Gentle Readers
Are you surprised? While I am sure you had expected to never see this column again, with the retirement of its former author, Mrs Penelope Bridgerton, I for one am delighted to pick up the quill in her stead.
One must wonder Dearest Reader, why the sudden retirement of such an esteemed author?
Perhaps there is something under the surface of such a seemingly happy marriage? Can a wallflower, after spending so many years against the wall, really change her colors after all?
Is it possible for one Mr C. Bridgerton to be as happy as he proclaims? I ask myself why such a happily married man would be seen so often wandering the streets of Bloomsbury? Could it be that he has found a more suitable match to warm his bed?
Time will reveal all, and I will be watching.
Yours Observantly
L.W
“Who do you think did this?” She asked, her voice a mere whisper as the pamphlet fell to the desk. It was not lost on Colin the irony of it now covering the pages of her new novel she had been happily writing just mere seconds ago.
She didn’t deserve this. The one thing she had been most proud of in her life, now being twisted and used against her. It made him feel a rage he had imagined possible to feel begin to course through him.
But he would not lose control in front of her. She needed him.
To stand by her.
To hold her.
Hold her. He could do that.
He pulled her into his arms and carried her across the room to their bed, sitting gently against the headboard as he leaned back and pulled her even tighter into his chest.
“ I don’t know, Pen.” He finally whispered. “ A coward that much is for certain.”
Penelope sniffled, and although he could not see her face he could feel the tears seeping through the thin fabric of his nightshirt, his heart breaking more with every tear.
“ Why?” She cried out between sniffles. “ Why would someone use my name! Anyone could start their own column? Why does it have to be mine? And why would they write such falsehoods about us? Implying that you have found a mistress? Everyone knows you go to Bloomsbury for your writing!”
Her tears began to overtake her and her body shook with the strength of her sobs.
Colin had never felt more helpless. Even when she had cried and screamed as she pushed their son into the world it did not hurt as much as this.
Because what could he do? What could he say to her to make it make sense? To make it better? To fix it.
He needed to fix it.
He had to fix it.
It was in his vows, to cherish and honor and protect.
How could he protect from something when he didn’t even know what it was?
He stroked her hair, tucking the curls behind her ears, rubbing small circles on her back as she cried.
Did she want answers? Or did she just need to be allowed to question?
“ I don’t know, my love.” He whispered and had never hated himself more for saying it. “ We know it is simply untrue, and anyone who knows us would never believe such falsehoods.”
Penelope sobbed quietly into his chest when they heard a knock on their chamber door and Rae called out.
“ Mrs Bridgerton? The nurse has informed me the little Lord is ready to be fed.”
Penelope sat up quickly, her eyes red and swollen.
“ Let me get him.” Colin said gently, leaning forward to press tiny kisses against her cheeks and forehead and softly on her lips, still wet and tasting of salt.
Penelope sniffed and nodded, scooting off his lap and further onto the bed before pulling the blankets over herself like a cocoon.
He could tell she was still crying as her form shook up and down even hidden under the blankets.
“ I’ll be right back, darling.” He said and made his way to the nursery to find their son.
Although Elliot was old enough now to eat most foods, he still craved the closeness and comfort of nursing from his mothers breast before bed. It was something Penelope insisted she be allowed to do until Elliot himself showed that he no longer needed it. It never ceased to amaze him how wonderful a mother Penelope was although it in no way surprised him. He had always known she would be the best of mothers, just as she was the best of wives.
It had been one of her biggest fears when she had become with child. That she would not be able to give Elliot the love and care that he deserved. That she would become like her own mother as if there was any way in this world that would be possible. Although Portia had come a long way in her relationship with her daughter since their wedding, Penelope had shown a kindness and devotion to their son that reminded him distinctly of his own mother.
He reached the nursery and the sound of his son's cries grew louder as he opened the door and took in the sight of the nurse trying to rock him gently in her arms. He was not so easily persuaded however and reached out his small hands for his father as soon as Colin stepped into the room. “ Appa” He cried which made Colin smile despite the emotions of the evening. It still brought him indescribable joy to hear his son calling him Papa.
“ I’m sorry, Sir.” The nurse said timidly as Colin bent down and scooped his son up into his arms. “ Rae told me you and Madam were not to be disturbed this evening but the little Lord is so distressed I could not get him to settle and well… Mrs Bridgerton told me not to let him cry for so long.”
Colin smiled down at the lass kindly. She was an excellent nurse even for her younger years and had been a great help to them with Elliot.
“ You did exactly as you should have.” He responded lightly, hoisting Elliot from his hip to his back, shuffling up and down as he patted his back trying to stop the tears. “ I’m sure he just needs his Mama.”
“It’s ok my little Lord.” He whispered softly as he carried Elliot back down the hall towards their bed chamber. “ Papa will bring you to Mama”
“Ama?” Elliot sniffled as Colin opened the door to his room and closed it gently behind him. Penelope had not moved from her spot under the blanket but the room was quiet.
He slid into the bed softly and Penelope sat up quickly at the movement, pulling the blanket from her head and reaching out her arms for her son.
Colin’s heart swelled as he took in the sight before him.
His beautiful wife, her hair now a mess of red curls already tangling around her back and neck. She lowered her chemise and Elliot began to suckle, sighing contently in his mothers arms.
Even with her red swollen eyes and tear stained cheeks, she had never looked more beautiful.
“ You are so beautiful, Pen.” He said softly, feeling as if the emotion inside of him would burst out and flood the room with the strength of the love that he felt for her.
She looked up, almost startled like she had forgotten he was in the room, so lost in the admiration of their son.
His breath caught.
Would there ever come a day when he was not taken back by her beauty? By the way her blue eyes shone in the candlelight, her lips plush and soft, her face unguarded and raw. He was forever grateful that she let him see her in her most vulnerable state like this. That HE was the one trusted to guard her emotions and her heart.
She shook her head in protest, her lower lip trembling slightly, a tear gathering once more in the furthest corner of her eyes.
“ You are.” He insisted, already knowing what she was protesting. Even after everything then had been through together she still had a hard time believing her own beauty.
He leaned over gently placing a soft kiss on Elliot’s red curls, the babe now asleep still half suckling, his small hand resting on the swell of his mothers bosom. He then leaned over further and pressed his lips against Penelope’s lips, raising slightly and kissing each of her eyes, before lifting his thumb up to wipe away the tears.
Penelope sighed, her eyes softening at her husband's loving gaze.
“ I don’t even know why I am so upset.” She sniffled. “ I had already given it up, it no longer belongs to me.”
His brows furrowed as he protested softly as not to wake their sleeping son in between them.
“ That is not true, Pen. You yourself told me once that you are Whistledown, you can not be separated from her. Someone is stealing your name, your voice, it is not right.”
Penelope nodded, her lower lip still trembling slightly.
“ It does not seem right, but what can we do?”
“ We can find them! Make them stop!”
Penelope’s eyes widened and she shook her head. “ We can’t do that, Colin. We just can not.”
He wanted to protest that they must! There was no other option but to take her voice back, but as he looked at the sadness and resignation in her eyes, he could see she had already made up her mind. She had fought for Whistledown so many times. Almost lost her entire family and even….he still couldn’t bear the thought of it… had almost lost him over it.
She no longer had any fight left.
He simply nodded as he watched her eyes close and open softly, succumbing to sleep.
He laid there for a long time, simply watching her and Elliot sleep. His mind racing.
If she could no longer fight, then he would do it for her.
It was his turn to protect the family.
🪶
Colin Bridgerton was not a man who was easily frightened, in fact he could recall very few times in his life when he had been truly afraid, but there was something in the air as he walked the streets of Bloomsbury that left him feeling unsettled. Bloomsbury had been his home, their home, before the birth of Elliot, the new Lord Featherington. He had traveled this very path so many times, hand in hand with his wife, both of them wearing their long cloaks, despite the fact that Lady Whistledowns identity had been fully revealed.
Some days their steps had been hurried as they had wanted to return home quickly, and others they had lingered, taking their time to quietly whisper and giggle, often ending up leading to Penelope pushed up against a wall, with her husband's strong body pressed up against her. But tonight, there was none of the familiarity, only a heaviness that set upon his shoulder and chest, one that he had not been able to shake since he had watched his wife's eyes widen and then fall as she read a column someone else had written under her name.
Colin scurried into the closest alleyway and leaned against the wall, his heart racing as he gulped in deep breaths of the night air. Part of him wanted to end this before he even began, to run home to the safety of his wife and son. He remembered how she had looked before he had left that night. Asleep and peaceful, her red curls splayed across the white linens, the curve of her hips beckoning him to join her in their bed. How he hated to leave her. They had not spent one night apart since their reconciliation at the Butterfly ball, and even though he would be returning to her side in a matter of hours, the idea of leaving her now seemed almost too much to bear.
A loud burst of laughter from the street sent his heart lurching once more and he immediately tucked his hand to his side and felt the cold hard handle of the pistol he had hidden in the waistband of his trousers. He had never once carried it like this even through all the years of his travels, had never felt the need or the desire, but this was different. He had a duty now. A wife to protect, and a son to return home too. He could not risk leaving Elliot to grow up without a father.
He would not.
He knew Penelope would be angry if she had any idea of what he was doing. He could already see the way her face would turn red and her hands would come to rest on the supple flesh of her hips. She would argue that it was not worth it, that nothing was worth risking his life and their family, unable to see that there would be no risk. Colin would succeed, no matter the cost. God how he loved her. He loved her more than had ever dreamed possible, and it was because he loved her, that he must do this. He must find the imposter who had dared to steal her life's work.
They were a threat.
The comment about their marriage. To imply so boldly for the whole of the ton to read that he could possibly take a mistress. It was suddenly clear that If Penelope no longer held the protection of Whistledown, she was now exposed against all the enemies her words may have caused in the past. Just the thought of someone threatening his wife sent a wave of anger down his spine. Using the emotion to push him forward, he straightened his spine and ducked back out of the alley.
The printer was right there, the lights darkened in the front window but he knew they were always open at this time of night getting the press ready for the next morning. For a moment he felt thankful for the many nights he had spent accompanying Penelope to this very building.
He stepped forward and rapped his knuckles across the heavy wooden door. Adjusting his wool cap further down his face as his eyes searched the street around him for any movement as he waited.
The door to the printers opened a crack and the printer's eyes widened as he saw Colin. Before he could slam the door, closed, Colin placed his hand in between the door and the frame and pushed his way into the shop.
The man's eyes widened and he scurried away from Colin and across the room, putting the wooden counter between him and the large man now glowering down at him.
“Mr Bridgerton.” The man gasped as Colin reached inside his coat and threw the column down on the counter.
“Who did it?” Colin demanded his eyes dark. He had no intention of hurting the man. He knew he had always been kind to Penelope over the years, and Penelope would never forgive him if he allowed any harm to the poor soul, but for now, he needed the man afraid. Afraid enough to answer.
The man stared up at Colin and then down at the pamphlet before grabbing it in his hands and dragging it closer to the candle.
“Who did it?” Colin said again, growing impatient as the man read.
“ It wasn’t us Sir. I promise you. This is not our paper. Ask your Missus. She can tell you! She knows the feel of our paper as well as I.” He insisted, holding the column back out to Colin.
Colin’s eyes squinted as he appraised the man before him. He had proven himself trustworthy enough of the years to be sure, but any man…or woman…had their price.
“ I beg you.” The printer pleaded. “ It wasn’t us. We couldn’t do that to the Missus. She was kind to us, Sir. All those years. When she came to deliver her lost column she left enough money to cover our expenses for years to come. Did you know that Sir?”
Colin stepped back. He did not know that, but he was not surprised to hear it. He trusted Penelope implicitly and she had complete control of her Whistledown funds. Whatever she felt like spending it on, was her right to do so. It did not belong to him.
“ It does not surprise me to hear.” He finally admitted, pulling the pamphlet back from the man's shaking hands and tucking it once more into the pocket of his coat. “ My wife is an extremely kind woman.”
“Aye.” The man agreed, his posture relaxing as Colin spoke of his wife.
“Do you swear it was not you?”
“Aye, Sir. I swear it.”
Colin sighed, finally allowing himself to breathe deeply once more. “Do you have any ideas of who could have printed it? Do you recognize the paper or the ink? Anything that might give away the owner of the shop?”
There had to be a way to identify the printer, Colin knew that much. Hell, even his sister had managed it once long ago. If only he could trust her to help him, he would enlist her help in his search. But there was no way Eloise would keep a secret from her best friend. They had promised each other, they would never do so again, and he would not be the one to get in the middle of that promise no matter how much her help was needed.
“Let me see one more time.” The printer said, holding out his hand once more as he reached below the counter to pull out a magnifying glass.
Colin handed it to him and watched intently as the older man pulled a reading glass from a woolen chord around his neck and held it up to his eye, the other hand guiding the magnifying glass down the paper.
“I haven't seen it before.” He sighed, letting the glass drop back around his neck. “I don't recognize the paper. It's different from what we use. Thicker. Maybe foreign?”
Colin's eyes shot up at that. Foreign?
Who in the ton would have access to a foreign printer? Someone of wealth of course, with deep enough pockets and connections strong enough to hide their deeds.
“Foreign?”
The man nodded. “Aye. It’s thicker, if you feel it, almost rough like linen. Your Missus would know.” He added, looking up at Colin through with a knowing glance. “But I reckon you won't be asking her?”
Colin startled for a moment then coughed to hide his discomfort. “I…” He began but was interrupted before he could explain.
“I understand you, Sir. I would do the same for my Missus if the God Lord hadn’t seen fit to take her away from me.” He paused, his eyes misting slightly at the thought of his late wife. “Your Missus is a good one, Mr Bridgerton. She is kind. You have my support however you need it.”
Colin swallowed and nodded the knot in his chest feeling lighter and heavier all at the same time.
“Thank you. I shall reward you well if you happen to come across any information I might seek, or any of your boys as they deliver, it doesn’t matter how small it might be, please send word.”
“Aye, Mr Bridgerton.” The man said and he stuck out his hand for Colin to shake. Colin paused for a moment, unused to sharing such a gesture with a man of trade but quickly reached out and grasped the man's hand on his own. Feeling the well-worn calluses against his own soft skin as he shook.
“Take care of her, Sir.” The man added as Colin turned towards the door to leave. “She is one of the good ones.”
“That she is.”
🪶
The cool air hit Colin across the face like the slap of a hand as he stepped out of the printers. He pulled his coat tighter around his body and shoved his hands deeper into his pockets.
What was he supposed to do now? He didn’t think he would find everything he needed to know at the printers, but he had hoped against hope that he would find out something!
He had left his home in the middle of the night, the warmth of his wife's body, betrayed her trust by keeping a secret from her, and for what?
To find out that the paper had been foreign.
What the devil was he supposed to do with that information? While he had traveled intensively, he had never stopped to examine the intricacies and differences of the printed paper he had used. He had always been too busy and rushed to notice such a small thing, always rushing and running. The printer was right of course. Penelope would know. She had probably been able to tell instantly the pamphlet was not done by her printer. If only he could have asked her without raising her suspicions. She would have suspected him immediately if he began asking questions. She was still Lady Whistledown after all. No matter what scoundrel tried to steal her name, they would never take away what or who Penelope was.
The words in the pamphlet haunted him. While they could seem innocent enough to an unsuspecting reader, he could see them clearly for what they were.
A message clearly sent to their family. Someone was watching. Someone who desperately wanted to ruin everything Penelope had built. They wanted to claim the column as their own without having done an ounce of the work his wife had done to build it. Who were they to carry her name without having carried the pain it took to birth it?
A carriage rattled in the distance, the sound of the wheels against the cobbled stones picking up then fading. Everything around him appeared as it always did, and yet Colin could not shake the feeling that everything had changed.
Everything had been shaken on its axle.
How could he just sit by and watch it happen? How was he expected to let his wife appear in society with her head held high while someone out there had a target aimed directly towards her. Like a game of chess, now waiting silently for her to make the next move.
His hands curled into fists at his side as he strode back down the dark street to where his carriage had been left waiting some time ago a sudden panic rushing through his veins.
Watching
Someone was watching.
What if someone was there now.
Watching as his wife and their son slept peacefully and unknowing in their beds.
Watching as he had left them in the middle of the night…unprotected.
A shiver ran down his spine as he called out to his driver before he even reached the carriage door.
“ To Featherington House, as quick as you can.”
He flung open the carriage door and heaved himself inside, banging on the roof as the carriage started forward, forcing himself to breath.
He suddenly felt as if there was danger all around him.
Even the driver now felt like a threat.
He clenched his hands in his laps as he tried to steady himself. It would not lose control now. He must remain steadfast. He needed to stay ahead of the danger, a plan.
He needed help. From someone he could trust with his life and the life of his family.
He needed his brothers.
They would help him find who had done this.
And they would make them pay.