Chapter Text
As a third son, Colin Bridgerton did not think his life would end up this way.
Sure, as a third son—he often wondered. Allowed his mind to imagine what life would be if he had been in charge of the home. The Viscount. But often, he did not allow himself to dream of such things for long. Usually, he would sweep them under the rug and go about his travels and his life.
Today sitting in Anthony's—No. His study. He has come to realize, that he has not left this study in almost three whole days. Papers are scattered around on the desk. Empty glasses sitting on the mantle. When will this come easier to him? Dealing with all of the things that a Viscount must handle?
Running his hand through his hair, he sighs deeply. The house has gone quiet; the late hours of the night as everyone has settled into their chambers for the evening. There is so much responsibility to take care of. He never paid much attention to his older brother Anthony doing them. Always just assumed things would have been handled.
Between his attendance at court. Managing projects and the tenants that are on his land. Not to mention all of the money of his family. He has been buried in various tasks. When does all of it stop? Is it ever going to?
God, he wishes he knew.
Colin's eyes try to focus on the words on the thin piece of parchment in front of him. The words, no matter how many times he has read them. They still feel jumbled. Maybe taking a respite will help? Not that he has taken one in these past few weeks.
His head hits the desk as he closes his eyes. Honestly, he is too exhausted to go to his own chambers. To leave this chair at this moment. Suddenly, there is a soft knock at the door. The door creeks open slowly as his mother enters the room.
This is not what he needs tonight.
Another lecture, another talk.
"Hyacinth informed me that you have not left this room today," Violet says, as she closes the door behind her. "Have you had supper today?"
Yes? No—god, he does not remember. The time has slipped away from him. The days have even started to blend together the longer he sequesters himself to the study. He can barely recall what day of the week it is. Monday? Tuesday?
"No," Colin replies. "I do not think I had anything. I have been dealing with the request of our tenants this week, who seem to not want to come to an agreement."
"It will come in time," she reassures him, standing behind the chair across from his desk. "How was your meeting with the Lords?"
His meeting…oh. That has been days ago. Not that he has seen his mother in that time. She had been attending Tea with Lady Danbury or tending to Hyacinth.
"It went well," he says, moving a few papers on his desk. "It was as expected. There is not much that they said that you have not previously told me."
"Has this—opened your mind to finding a wife this season?" Violet murmurs. "I know you have said that you do not wish to. As the Viscount, it is your responsibility to—"
"I know, Mother," Colin interrupts her. "I have known this for months, you have mentioned it on several occasions."
It had been brought up shortly after he arrived back from his travels. After the news that Anthony and Benedict had both renounced the title, leaving him as the head of the family.
Colin is not angry at them—quite the opposite, actually. They get to live their lives. Anthony in India with his wife and child. Benedict living at My Cottage with his new wife, Sophie.
He did not expect that upon arriving home, he would be asked to inherit every single task from his mother. Shortly after taking the title for himself, his mother started with these conversations—or more like lectures—about duty. About him taking a wife.
"There is a ball coming…"
"I do not wish to go searching for a wife at a ball," Colin says. "When I feel I am ready for a wife—"
He does not know what he will do. Is he ready for a wife? No, most definitely not. He does not wish for his mother to constantly remind him of his duty. Somehow she has reminded him more than the House of Lords. Who reminds him at every single conversation they managed to have.
"I will search for a wife when I feel as though I am ready, Mother."
"I do think you should attempt to make an appearance," Violet continues. "You will be expected to make one at some point."
Eventually yes, he would be expected. Does that mean that he has to be forced to attend them right now? No. Going to balls, knowing the talks would all be focused on if and when he would be taking a wife, would surely be the death of him.
"I know," he mutters, letting out a loud sigh. "Everyone is expecting much more from me than I had anticipated—it is all a bit overwhelming."
"Maybe you should spend some time outside of here," she suggests. "You have spent many weeks in this office. I cannot recall the last time you have left or seen anyone since your return."
When was the last time he left this room? The last time he spoke to someone who had not been one of his siblings or the staff. That was—that was with Penelope's letters. Oh. He did not…he did not tell her that he had come home.
Though, by now. She has surely heard all of the talks of the Ton. That he has a new title. He is sure that his mother has spread the news about him needing a wife.
Why—why did he not make the time to notify her? To see her?
He should have.
"There is so much to do," Colin says, suddenly. "I—I have so many duties to attend to."
"I think your duties can wait one day, Colin."
She is correct, is she not? That for once, maybe all of this could wait. All of the demands from his tenants, all of the papers he has yet to file. All of this could wait a day—could it not?
"You are right," he mutters. "I will—I will head to bed for the night. I will spend the day doing other matters."
It is most certainly not going to be "other matters."
The only thing that is circling in his mind is Penelope. To spend some time with his friend, who he has not spoken to since he has gotten home.
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There is one thing that Colin has learned.
That bribing a servant still works, even as a Viscount. Certainly, he thought it would not work. Showing up to the back door of Penelope's home. Like he has done many times before.
It always is the same. After years, it had come down to a strange routine. Three knocks on the back door, the kitchen staff would always answer first—granted, they were closest to the door. A few minutes later, Rae would show up.
He would always sit on the same stone bench they had by the flower beds. Just as he is doing right now, waiting for her to come out of those doors.
Is she going to be angry at him? For not coming to see her sooner? For possibly hearing the news through her mother, of all people? Hell, his mind has not stopped since last night.
"Colin?"
He hears her voice—somehow, it soothes any negative thoughts that are in his mind. She walks toward him, clutching a book in her hands. She is…she is different.
Well, no, not different, but different. It is the way she is dressed. The girl who had once been in yellows at balls. That is not how she is dressed in front of him now. Her dress is a light green, it is hugging all of her curves. A little more of her skin is showing.
She looks…so…beautiful.
"You look different," Colin blurts out. "I guess I have not seen you in so long. I did not know…"
"Different?" Penelope raises a brow, sitting down on the stone next to him. "What do you mean?"
It is not only the dresses. It is also her hair, the way it is partially up. Some of her hair hangs down on her shoulders. She has always been beautiful, even when they were younger, and she had been in those dresses. The ones she hated.
"Your clothes," he says. "I did not think I would see you in such newer outfits."
"I have not done anything for myself," she mutters. "I never spent the money I had earned. Since I have accepted spinsterhood, I figured a new wardrobe would not hurt."
Some time ago, the two of them had that dreadful conversation. That after everything that had happened, she would never marry. He cannot quite recall—not that he wishes to—the entirety of what was said. He had hope then that she would not so easily accept that fate.
Eventually, he came to terms with her wishes.
"It is just that I have not seen you in such a charming color," Colin stammers. "It—it suits you."
"Thank you," Penelope smiles, squirming a bit on the cold bench. "I have not been out to show anyone, you are the first to see."
Wow, he is glad. Not that she has not seen anyone, obviously. But that he is the first to see just how beautiful she looks sitting next to him. Surrounded by these flowers. On the same bench that they have managed to sit with each other time and time again.
"I—um—I apologize," Colin starts, sitting down next to her. "Since returning from my travels, I have not had the time to see you."
"You are a viscount now, Colin." Penelope says. "I must admit, I was shocked when my mama told me the news. I had written to you before you returned home…"
"I did not know…that this was happening."
"You did not?" She questions. "I thought you had kept it to yourself—you did not always tell me everything in your letters."
"Out of the entire Ton, I would have told you, Pen," he mutters.
For years, she has been his closest friend. Every time he traveled, he would write her in the places he frequented. Telling her about the experience—what the world had been like outside the Ton. There had been no one else who he would correspond. Only Penelope.
"I—I have missed you," Colin suddenly says. "I know you have not been involved in the social scene since…"
"I have been…more recently," she replies. "There is still gossip, of course."
The gossip would possibly never stop. The snubs behind her back. God, he wishes that he could make it. He has never thought it fair to her. After everything came out. He would do anything for her.
"I am glad—not about the gossip—that you have been involved more recently," Colin stumbles. "I—I have only wished for you to recover from what happened."
She has, mostly. From what she has said, even from the few moments that Eloise has actually mentioned her. It seems that all of the fallout has faded away. Her mother has been proudly accepted back into society. Debt free, of course.
"How was your trip?" She asks, changing the subject. "I wrote you from the country with my mother—I had very little to do."
"It had been cut short," Colin admits. "My mother wrote for me to immediately return home. There was more to see and do."
"When I read your letters," she continues. "I daydream that I am there with you. You describe the world around you so beautifully, so vividly. It is something I could not see while stuck in the country side."
It is something that she could not see while attached to her mother. Always needing Penelope for something, making very sure that her and him are not allowed in close quarters. Especially since Portia had caught them the night Penelope had been exposed as Whistledown.
It is not fair.
Really, it is not. That she cannot live the life that she wishes to. Speak freely, write anything she pleases. Not have to deal with the demands of her mother. Who, as a spinster, she will be stuck with forever.
Wait—it is her. His mother has been telling him this entire time. Exactly what it is that he needs. If he…it is Penelope.
"Marry me," Colin blurts out suddenly, turning to her fully. "I did not mean to be so abrupt about it—it is just that it shall work in our favor."
Her eyes are wide. Pure shock spreading across her face, as though he has told her something scandalous. He watches as she blinks a few times, those blue eyes looking at him. It is the perfect plan, is it not?
The two of them are friends.
Plenty of people in the Ton have married for similar conveniences.
"W—what did you…?"
"Marry me, Penelope," he repeats. "As the Viscount, I am expected to take a wife. If you marry me, you shall be free of all the eyes on you. You will have your own free will."
It will free her. From the gossip, from the very people who wish for her to be exiled to the country side. Finally, his mother will ease her grievances about him needing to marry. It will be Penelope—everyone still loves her, despite what happened.
"You do not need to do this, Colin," Penelope mutters. "Do you not wish to marry someone who will provide you with a family? Whom you love?"
If he is being honest—he does not think he can love. With all the responsibilities of being a viscount, would he have time for a wife? To be there fully for her? Possibly not. Maybe in years to come. But not now.
Who knows, maybe Penelope may want children.
That is not a thought for this moment.
"I am not asking to save you, Penelope," Colin says. "I need to marry this season, as it is my duty to do so. You are my greatest friend, someone who I will not mind sharing responsibilities with. If anything, this will fix your reputation and help things return to normal."
"My life would not return to normal," Penelope replies, playing with a patch on her gown. "You and I will be married—I'd be the Viscountess—that comes with its own responsibilities."
Responsibilities, sure.
But it is the freedom he wishes to give her.
"You and I will be friends," he continues, scooting closer to her, grabbing her hand. "You will have the freedom you have always wished for. A place away from your mother, your own home. What you wish to do with those things…if that is to continue Whistledown or—"
"No," she interrupts him. "I do not wish to do that again."
"I am sorry—I did not mean to overstep, I—I wish to give you freedom, Penelope," he says. "That is all I want and to have my mother leave me alone."
He does not need his mother for the entire season speaking to him about the importance of having a Lady of the house. He understands. Really, he does. The countless nights since assuming the role, she has drilled it into his head.
With Penelope by his side, his mother would stop.
Mostly show her how to assume her role as Viscountess.
"We will be married, Colin," Penelope says. "What will happen with us? We will share a house…a life…what if you wish to—"
"We will not do anything you are not comfortable with," he mutters. "It will be our life, not only mine."
She goes absolutely silent. There is a chance that he made a mistake, bringing this up to her. She is his friend—maybe she does not wish to be stuck in a loveless marriage. To spend all her days with only her friend until the end. God, why did he not think this through? Why has he been so controlled with everything but so spontaneous with this?
With marriage of all things.
"You do not have to make a decision right now," Colin continues, struggling to not ramble on. "It is a difficult—"
"I will marry you."
"I know this is way more than I should be asking of you—wait—"
"I will marry you, Colin," Penelope repeats. "I do not wish to be stuck in this house with my mama. If marrying you will grant the two of us freedom, I will do it."
"I—I," he stammers. "I am happy that it will be you, I know this is all very sudden."
It is, in fact, sudden, to ask his only friend to be his wife. Without much thought, he might add. Is this really what she will want? To be his wife? Spend all her days by his side?
Taking a deep breath, he gives her a smile. He must stop. Stop overthinking that she is agreeing and not truly wanting this.
It is a happy moment.
She agreed to be his wife.
"There is a ring," he blurts out. "It is in the family vault, I think it would be perfect for you—unless you want one that is more tailored for you."
"It is your decision, Colin," Penelope says. "I will be happy with any kind of choice you make."
God, this is all sudden. There is somehow a feeling of being so happy that he could cry. And…and feeling as if he would be sick with anxiety.
"I must ask," she quickly responds. "Do—do you think that we should not make this look more official?"
More official?
What could she possibly mean by that?
"What would you suggest?"
"I do not think that a single person will believe that the Viscount waltzed in here on a sunny day to ask his friend to marry him," she grins. "Do you not think it would be better to court? Put on a show, as they say?"
She has a point. It would look better, would it not? Courting—being seen together out in the open. Though, he is sure it will cause some sort of scandal. After everything that she has gone through.
It would make it look real.
Not a sudden marriage, not something that anyone could spend their time picking apart. Two friends who happened to fall in love with each other and get married. That is the illusion they are trying to put on.
"Shall we start tomorrow?" he asks. "I have—I have never faked a marriage before, I do not know how long these things go on."
"I have only ever had one suitor, Colin," she whispers. "It is not as if I have much experience in courting."
Unfortunately, he remembers him. Not his name—it had been some time. A few years in fact. All he can recall is that he had been blonde. Telling tales of sailing across the sea and needing a wife to handle his estate.
Everything had come crashing down that season when…things had been revealed about Penelope.
"I do not have much of a plan," Colin admits, giving her hand a squeeze. "I did not come here today to propose. I do not want you to think that had been my only intention."
"I know it had not been your intention," Penelope comments. "You had been rather sudden with it."
Somehow in his mind, the thought of marrying her just…appeared. It is all thanks to his mother, who had been hounding him about the ball. The House of Lords who insist he must take a wife.
"I will—"
"Miss," Rae calls.
Turning her head, she gives Rae a smile. "Is it that time?"
"I am afraid so," Rae confirms.
There had not been much time. When he agreed to see her, he knew that at some point her mother would steal her back. Something about needing her to pick out dresses. Or whatever it is that Portia Featherington needs her daughter for these days.
"I will see you tomorrow," Colin says, watching as she stands up. "I shall be here as early as I can."
"Do you promise?" Penelope smiles. "I believe promises from Viscounts mean more."
"I do," he smiles. "I promise."
He watches as she walks with Rae, disappearing through the wooden door. Back into her family home. He does not move. There is a high chance that he is in some kind of shock.
He did it.
Actually did it.
He asked his best friend to marry him.