#WELCOME HOME COLIN ‘MY WIFE’ BRIDGERTON

[agathabridgerton]

#welcome home Colin “My Wife” Bridgerton 🥹

[d4yl1ghts]

enjoyment

colin bridgerton x wife, fem!reader

summary: after colin and yourself find yourselves bored at a ball, he decides to cheer you up

warnings: nudity, semi-public sex, p in v, expeditionist kink, breeding kink, praising kink, fingering, orgasm, breast play, switch!reader, switch!colin

A/N- Colin needs some more love, his character is so underrated

-

You and Colin had to go to another ball. As a member of the Ton, you are expected to attend almost all of the balls in the social season. Despite this, it didn’t change the fact that you hated them. You were never a social person. Colin also never really found them much fun anymore; they were repetitive and he would rather stay home with his wife.

That is what lead you to being sat opposite Colin in your carriage. Colin had your hand in his hand and was gazing at you sneakily. You were looking out the window and so he thought you wouldn’t notice him. “What are you looking at, Lord Bridgerton?”, you teased as you turned to stare at him. “Just a beautiful lady.”, he playfully stated.

You groaned as you sighed: “Balls are so pointless. I don’t understand why society makes us go.”

“Well, as members of the Ton, it would be seen as wrong if we didn’t attend a few.”, he placed a delicate kiss to your cheek. “I guess so.”, you responded in an unbelieving tone. He simply chuckled.

The carriage then pulled to a stop and Colin gracefully guided you out of the carriage as he always does. You slowly walked into the beautifully decorated ballroom. You glanced around and admired it in silence. “I have to say they have outdone themselves this year.”, Colin stated matter-of-factly.

You nodded your head in agreement before continuing further into the vast room. As you cast your eyes around the room, you spotted Anthony with Kate and Anthony finally noticed you and called you and Colin over. “Brother. Y/N.”, Anthony welcomed. “Anthony.”, you reciprocated. “Have you been on any new travels, brother?”, Anthony questioned. “No, I don’t intend to go on any for a while. I have my duties as a husband to tend to.”, he smiled as you blushed. You turned around and saw Kate talking to Violet.

“Kate. Violet.”, you greeted. “Y/N, how are you?”, Violet asked kindly. “Good, thank you, how are you?”, you replied. “I am great. The ballroom is so elegant and beautifully decorated I must admit.”, she stated. “I would have to agree. Look at the gorgeous paintings.”, Kate added. “Mhm, I do quite like the chandelier. It is so detailed.”

Violet nodded her head in agreement. You looked past Violet and recognised Colin’s eyes boring into your figure. You stared at him in concern as he made his way over. “Mother, I hope you do not mind if I steal my wife.”, he said in acknowledgment of his mother. “Of course not.”, she smiled at her son’s happiness.

Colin had a steady grip on your arm as he lead you outside. “What are we doing out here?”, you asked. He ignored you as he gently pushed you against a wall, careful to not hurt you. Fortunately, there were no windows and you were covered by a pillar. “Darling, you didn’t expect us to stay in there for the whole ball, did you? I know how much you despise these events.”, he says confidently. You gazed up at him with innocent eyes. He sighed as he attached his lips to yours with such a passion.

He slipped his tongue into your mouth and explored the crevices. He pulled away and moved his calloused hands to the back of your corset and looked to you for consent. “Yes.”, you muttered, still out of breath from your lengthy kiss. He hastily undid your corset, occasionally tightening it instead of loosening it.

You then tugged on his shirt, asking him to remove it. He instantly removed it and locked his lips to your bare chest. He gazed at your hardened nipples and glanced at the rest of your body. “You are perfect, my love.”, he confessed. He quickly reattached his mouth to your breasts and sucked on your nipples. You whimpered at the feeling. He placed his fingers against your other breast that wasn’t getting any attention and began kneading his hand on it. You were so wet for him already. He then decided to plunge two fingers into your slick and pumped in and out of you until you had adjusted and he then took out his fingers.

As you stared at him hungrily, he knew what you wanted and so he took off his breeches and exposed his hardened cock. You gazed into his eyes lustfully. He grabbed his cock that dripped with pre-cum and lined it up with your folds. He rubbed his length up and down your folds to gain your slick on his cock. His length twitched as he made contact with your pussy.

He allowed you time to adjust before he slowly thrusted in and out of you. Colin then moved closer to you so your hips were in contact with each other. He wanted to reach the deepest spot he could. “Fuck, Colin…”, you moaned as tears brimmed in your eyes. He whimpered quietly at your moans. He moved his large hands to feel his bulge in your stomach. “Taking it so well, Y/N.”, he praised. He sighed in pleasure.

You cautiously moved off Colin’s cock to which he grunted in disapproval. You then shoved him against the floor carefully. You looked at his irritated and dismissed length before lowering yourself over it. You then grinded against Colin and he moaned in response as you gripped his hair. At any point, anyone could walk out and see the two of you but you were too euphoric to care now. You let out quiet and gentle moans as you bounced on his girthy cock. Colin sighed contentedly as he felt your walls clench around his shaft.

You released your juices all over Colin’s cock as you came down from your high with tears streaming down your face from the pleasure. Colin then hold you in place with his big and tender hands as he hip-thrusted into you and felt his cock twitch before he shot his load deep into your pussy.

You waited for a few minutes with Colin’s soft cock still in your pussy as you gained your breath back. Both of you then glanced around and after seeing no one, you both let out some quiet laughs. You hastily attempted to lace up your corset and Colin ended up helping you after he had put his shirt and breeches on. “Thank you.”, you kissed his red lips sweetly. “We should head back in before anyone notices we’ve been gone.”, Colin replied.

You slowly walked back in (with the assistance of Colin’s sturdy arms) and looked around before making your way over to an empty corner. “That was such a lovely way to spend the ball, Colin. We should do it again.”, you admitted. He hummed in agreement as he smirked at the state of you. Red lips and wobbly legs.

Suddenly, Violet was walking toward you two and you grabbed Colin’s arm and wrapped it tighter around your shaking frame. “Where have you two been? The Queen wanted to see you both on the dance floor as you are a newly married couple.”, she whispered worriedly. “Mama, we were just outside. We enjoyed our time outside much more than we would have in here.”, he said with amusement in his eyes. “Hmm, okay. Next time, you have to dance though, okay?”, she questioned. Colin just nodded along. She then walked away.

“Next time, we are not dancing. I know how much you dislike it, Y/N and I believe that we have found a much more enjoyable activity.”, Colin chuckled. You sighed as you flushed slightly.

[himbo-buckley]

WELCOME HOME COLIN „my wife“ BRIDGERTON!!!!

[noellawrites]

Become A Bridgerton - Yandere!Colin Bridgerton x reader

requested by: @ilovechickenwings & anon

summary: Colin does something horrible to you on your eighteenth birthday which forces you to marry him.

warnings: rape, noncon, somnophilia, manipulation, drugging, baby trapping, forced marriage, breeding

author's note: this is really dark so please take care of yourself before and after reading <3

As you entered the Bridgerton home, you were struck with awe. Even better, today marked a special occasion. Today, you were celebrating your eighteenth birthday with your best friends, Eloise and Penelope. Your parents had allowed you to have a small sleepover to celebrate your age, and of course Viscountess Bridgerton and the elder brothers would be watching over you three.

You walked in through the foyer to the parlor, where most of the family was gathered.

"Oh, (y/n), welcome and happy birthday," the Viscountess said, embracing you in a warm hug.

"Officially marrying age, how exciting?" Benedict teased as he turned away from his easel and looked at you.

"Leave her alone, Ben!" Eloise groaned. Her and Pen stood up from the settee and hugged you as well.

"Do you ladies have any special plans for tonight?" Viscountess Bridgerton asked the three of you.

"I thought we could roam around the gardens and read a bit. Perhaps play pickleball or another yard game," Eloise said.

Behind you, Anthony and Colin entered the parlor. Hyacinth all but jumped into Anthony's arms, and Colin walked right over to you.

"Happy birthday, (y/n), and congratulations," he added, smiling at you and making intense eye-contact. You hadn't seen him since before he had left on his travels, and you had to admit he was now very handsome.

"Congratulations? What for?" you inquired teasingly.

"You are now marrying age, correct? Your mother told mine that you would be entering society next season."

"Oh, well yes, I suppose. I don't feel ready yet at all," you confessed, twisting a lock of your hair.

"If we want to walk in the gardens, we must leave soon," Eloise urged impatiently.

"Oh, right, sorry. I'll see you later, Colin," you added before being pulled away by your best friend.

Even long after, you were left daydreaming about how tight Colin's shirt looked, allowing you to see the outline of his strong chest. You liked the light facial hair he had grown and the new styling of his hair, which suited him much more. You thought about him even while Pen and Eloise were debating about Lady Whistledown, and all throughout your garden walk. What was this feeling blossoming in your chest?

---

"I'm not ready to be a wife, I feel like I have so much more fun left in my life!" you groaned, stretched out on one of the parlor settees. The Viscountess had allowed you three some time to socialize in the parlor alone after dinner, so you all took the opportunity to get comfortable and talk.

"Being a wife can be fun sometimes," Pen volunteered.

"And how would you know?" Eloise snapped, setting her book aside.

"El!" you scolded.

"There's the marital act, which none of our mothers have explained to us, but it is supposed to feel good. And if you have a nice husband, he might let you enjoy it, too," Pen shrugged. She began to take some of the pins out of her hair, causing red locks to fall around her shoulders.

"The marital act," you shuddered, "those words alone scare me enough."

"Colin, Benedict and Anthony know but they won't tell me. And of course Daphne won't, either. But I assume it has something to do with the process of carrying children," Eloise said.

All of a sudden you heard a loud knock on the closed door. The three of you gasped.

"Bedtime, ladies," Anthony commanded in a stern voice.

"Fine, brother!" Eloise shouted back, rolling her eyes and standing up from the settee she had been laying on.

---

The Bridgerton house had a quite a few guest rooms. It was one of the reasons you enjoyed staying there, as your home was definitely not as fancy. You made your way to a small guest room the maids had made up for you at the order of the Viscountess.

Taking a deep breath, you shut the door behind you and turned on the oil lamp. You changed into your nightgown and began undoing your hair, twisting the pins and decorative ribbons out of the style. Your mother had done your hair in a special style for your birthday.

A slight knock sounded at your door. Who could it be? Perhaps Penelope needed more sanitary napkins.

"H-hello?" you asked, opening the door slightly. Colin.

"Good evening, (y/n). I was wondering if we could talk? I brought some tea for you."

"This isn't a good time, I'm getting ready for bed," you whispered.

"Just a few minutes?"

"Alright," you agreed. Colin closed the door behind him and sat down on the bed. You sat down next to him, taking the tea saucer from his hands and sipping tentatively.

"You never told me, how was Greece?" you asked, looking up at the man beside you. Although he was only twenty-three, he felt like a grown adult compared to you. Even at eighteen, you still felt like a little girl.

"It was beautiful, (y/n). Maybe I'll bring you there someday. Would you like that?" he asked, eyes trained on you as you took another sip of the tea.

You nodded, wanting to speak but finding yourself unable to. You tried to set down the tea saucer but Colin took your hand and raised it up to your mouth again.

"W-what are you--" you stuttered before he made you take another sip.

"Shh, it's okay my love. Just drift off to sleep," Colin urged. After you finished the tea, he helped you lay comfortably on the bed.

You fought to keep your eyes open, but the last thing you saw was Colin staring at you with a sickly smile.

---

You awoke to the sound of birds chirping and the sun streaming through the guest room's shades. As you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, you realize there was a sharp pain in your lower region. It was not yet time for your monthly cycle, but perhaps you were early?

The shooting pain was still there as you hobbled to the washroom, hoping a quick urination might relieve the pain.

You looked into the bowl after you were finished, a small bit of blood there. You must be starting early, there was no other explanation. Maybe Colin knew something, as he was there with you before you fell asleep. You went to sleep a lot quicker than you'd been meaning to, but perhaps it was because you had a long day.

---

About six weeks later, you still had not gotten your monthly cycle since before you'd stayed at the Bridgerton's, aside from the small bit of blood from the toilet. You felt fragile and constantly sick. You looked bigger and your breasts felt heavier. You'd never felt anything like this, and you were scared. Did you have the plague? How could you have even gotten it?

After a few weeks of worrying, your parents were able to get a doctor out to your house to check on you.

The doctor, a stern old man, examined you, asked questions and inspected you thoroughly. When he was finished, he took your parents aside.

"You stupid, stupid girl!" your mother yelled from across the room. You looked at her, confused and surprised.

"What are you talking about?" you asked innocently.

"Who did you have sexual relations with?"

"I-I don't know what you're talking about!"

"The marriage act, who did you do it with? Oh my, we must find the boy and ask him to do the honorable thing and marry her. Or else she'll be a soiled spinster!" your father shouted.

"I didn't do the marriage act, I promise! I don't even know what it is, I've never even kissed a boy!"

"If you will not be honest, we must take this into our own hands as soon as possible. You are pregnant, stupid girl," your mother spoke. She yelled back and forth at you with your father, but your brain couldn't comprehend it anymore.

You were confused, having been sick for almost six weeks straight. Six weeks ago was your birthday, when you had fallen asleep by Colin. Could that be the marriage act? You would have to speak with him as soon as possible. How does one get pregnant?

---

"I need to see Colin," you tell the butler urgently once you arrive at the Bridgerton estate.

The butler nods and escorts you to what you assume is Colin's study, as he is sitting there at a desk, writing in his journal.

The butler leaves and you make a guttural noise, alerting Colin of your presence.

"Oh, hello! It's great to see you again, (y/n). I've been expecting you."

"Y-you have?"

"Yes. I heard the doctor was coming to your home to check up on you. I knew it meant my seed had taken."

"What?"

"Marry me, my love. We can travel with our baby and eventually settle down. You will have a luxurious life with me, more than with anyone your parents could pick for you. Come on, (y/n). Become a Bridgerton."

"What did you do to me?" you cry, reaching your hand gently down to touch the tiny bump of your stomach.

"The tea I gave you put you to sleep and boosted your fertility. I picked it up at a bazaar in Greece, when I first had the idea to do this. I consummated our marriage, though a bit early. You would be wise to accept my proposal. This is your only chance at a good life, (y/n)," Colin explained with a slight smirk on his face.

You slid to the floor, dress cushioning your fall. You nod through the tears, in disbelief that Colin had taken advantage of you. You didn't even know what he'd done to you. You weren't sure you wanted to know, either.

[5view]

welcome home book colin 'my wife' feather- i mean bridgerton😌

love the detail of this outfit lowkey matching Pen's, with the yellow-ish waistcoat as well ! seems to me like they're similarly matching at lady d's four seasons ball later on in the episode when they're wearing green

[swallowedbyfandom]

He genuinely never understood why his siblings's watched him with such bewildered eyes throughout Penelope and Debling's courtship. Why they all looked really to bundle him off at a moments notice at her wedding ceremony or why his mother looked so wistful at the wedding breakfast. He didn't understand why mother cried so hard when Penelope moved away or why she was so defeated when Pen wrote to announce her pregnancy. He didn't understand it until the summer of 1817.

In the summer of 1817, Earl Debling had to travel to the Americas for business. Over protective husband that he was, he worried about leaving his wife during her delicate condition with their twelve month old daughter, without emotional support for what would amount to almost ten months of time. His family and surrounding neighbors were still getting over a winter fever outbreak that he worried could still be contagious, so he arranged Penelope's and little Agatha's stay with Violet and the Bridgerton clan in Aubrey Hall.

He is standing with his family on the steps of their ancestral seat, to greet Penelope and her family while his sibling's chattered on excitedly. His first thought upon seeing her after two years is that she has always been radiant, but motherhood has truly turned her into something ethereal. Her husband gently lifts her out of their carriage and Colin can clearly see the gentle curve of her second pregnancy showing already.

God, Colin nearly cries when he sees how happy his mother and Pen are to be reunited. Really he and all his siblings watch misty eyed how his mother tearfully cups Penelope's face and whispers," Welcome home, my darling girl." while complimenting how wonderful motherhood looks on her. Penelope just melts into mother's arms babbling about how much she missed her and her excitement to share her daughter with her. Then he and his siblings watch as James grandly introduces Mother to their little Miss Agatha Violet Debling. Penelope looks so proud handing her little girl over into mother's arms as James just watches her indulgently, while gently supporting her small baby bump.

Dinner that night is a lively affair the entire family is at Aubrey hall this year. The Bassett and Stirling families included as Pen had written to Francesca warning her about the outbreak of Winter fever and she recommended they visit England for safety while the outbreak was ongoing. Frannie had confided in mother that she and John have been trying to start a family since they first married and were struggling to conceive, so she had written to Penelope for support and advice. That Penelope had always been something of a big sister to her but these last two years had cemented it. Pen had been her support system of candid advice and hilarious gossip to keep her spirits up. So they thought it best to retreat to Aubrey hall and leave Kilmartin in Michael's hand's until the outbreak passed.

It had warmed his heart knowing how even if Eloise and Pen's relationship never quite recovered, Pen still maintained a close relationship with the rest of his family. Personally he thought Fran and Pen's personalities suited better anyway. It helped that their estates were only an hour and a half carriage ride away and that John and James were such good friends they were able to visit each other at least once a month. Perhaps it made him disloyal but he understood why Penelope never trusted Eloise again. She forgave her but she didn't forget all El's betrayals. Pen treats El as a distant childhood acquaintance. Penelope is all polite formal civility and It drives El crazy, but she took things too far and has to live with the consequences.

He realizes he is in love with Penelope the second he lifts her daughter into his arms. He looks upon on a tiny perfect little face that is the exact replica of his dear Pen and feels his whole soul cry. He can suddenly see it so clearly, all the missed opportunities, that led to this moment. This glorious, perfect miniature of his beloved friend held in his arms should have a head of wild chestnut curls instead of the head of golden curls she has. He has been in love with Penelope for years and everyone in his family knew it except him. He finally understands all the looks and the whispers his family exchanged in 1815 and after. They were all waiting for him to realize the fact that he helped marry off the woman he was in love with.

He handed off the love of his life to another man, to another family. He can see now how much his entire family missed Penelope. His blindness deprived his siblings all of a beloved family member they had all counted on. He can also see now that Pen is seated here with his family once more he also deprived her of the comfort and love she has always found among the Bridgertons. He knows James has a minuscule amount of remaining family. That illness and bad luck has reduced the once great Debling family to only James, Pen, Agatha, his elderly mother and infirm elderly aunt.

Penelope had written to mother that her and James hope to fill their estate with half a dozen children at least. She loves him and the life they are building but she gets lonely sometimes out in the Scottish countryside so far from all she has known. He knows Penelope hoped to marry into a large family so her children could grow up with an army of cousins and family around them. Were he not stupid she would have that.

Later that night after everyone is in bed he sits at his Father's graveside and cries his heart out. He allows himself just this one night to wallow in grief for the life he gave up unknowingly. It hurts because watching her with her husband he realizes that she was in love with him once. Once but no longer, she moved on. He claimed he would never court her and broke her heart, so she let him go. His strong, clever girl learned to love again. He is the dumbest bastard in the world.

Truly James is a good man, who treats Pen like the queen she is, so he can make his peace with it. Tomorrow he will comfort himself with Penelope's joy and the knowledge that he has the next ten months to spend with her, Agatha and his family. He will get to witness her bloom with new life and meet her newest child while they are still a newborn. Yes he is sad but he will not be selfish with Penelope. Her happiness comes first.

He spends the next six months watching his family and Penelope reveling in mischief and chaos together. He watches everyone fall head over heels in love with little Agatha, who Penelope calls her little dragon flower. He wraps himself up in the happiness of all the babies and toddlers at Aubrey Hall.

He watches entranced one day as Penelope sits on one of the loungers with little Edmund in her arms fast asleep on her bosom. His mother sits across from her on a rocking chair with Miles in her arms listening with a gentle smile on her face as Penelope sings a beautiful French lullaby. He had no idea Pen had such an angelic voice. He notices after that Daf is passed out on the sofa with Aggie napping and Fran is fast asleep with Belinda. Kate is passed with Agatha and Newton on a chaise. He wishes he had Benedict's talent for sketching to capture this idyllic scene, perfectly.

He hides away with his brothers and the children when the combined hormonal, pregnancy barrage that is Penelope at eight months, Francesca at seven months, Kate at six months, Daphne at five months becomes too overwhelming. Their mother's euphoric crowing about all her new grand babies can be heard non stop, Eloise hilariously, has taken to hiding away from all the females on the estate and insisting that Portia Featherington was correct all along and pregnancy was in fact something you can catch. She had declared that Penelope is clearly fertile enough to have infected all of Aubrey Hall with it.

Overall it is the liveliest Aubrey Hall has been since their father passed away. He soaks it all up in glee. He blushes with guilt when Agatha's and Miles' first sentence is "where my biscuit?" Then he spends a week dodging Kate and Pen's killing rage, over the knowledge that he had been sneaking the children biscuits, while his siblings mock him mercilessly over the debacle.

Little Thomas James Debling is born in Aubrey Hall on the first of January 1818, with a full head of wispy strawberry blond curls that looked like dandelion fluff. Colin spends that night once more seated at his father's Gravesite weeping with heartbreak. He had heard his Pen crying out for James in fear during her labors. There had not been any correspondence from James in the last 3 weeks they were all worried about it. Aubrey Hall usually received post from him at least once a week and yet there has been no word for almost a month. Ant and John had been making subtle inquiries but they didn't want to worry Pen or Fran so far along in their prenancies are they.

Their peace is shattered 4 days later when Michael shows up at the break of dawn looking exhausted and full of grief. Penelope was already awake from nursing little Thomas so she received him first. They all rush from bed to find Penelope collapsed into Michael arms keening and wailing a familiar bitter melody. Mother looks so stricken by it all seconds before she mobilizes everyone into action.

James much like Ant was paranoid about dying young so the estate and all legalities pertaining to it are already taken care of. Penelope Anne Debling becomes the Dowager Countess Debling at age 21. The slew of legal protections in place for Penelope and the children are to be finalized once Thomas's birth records are filed.

[curlsandsnakes]

AU POLIN FANFIC

Courting Penelope Featherington

It’s raining the day he comes home.

Dark, moody weather that sets the tone wonderfully for the rather lackluster greeting he gets from his preoccupied siblings and absolutely rung dry mother. With two girls out in society, 1 pair of newly weds, 2 youngsters, and a Benedict, he can’t quite blame his mothers half hearted declarations and wandering eyes. He’s fully aware they’re happy to see him, Hyacinth even cries, but they all have their own dramas going on and have no time to entertain his stories of travel.

It doesn’t matter any, there really is only person he’s desperate to talk too, desperate to thrill with detailed accounts and sketched photographs.

It’s a shame Penelope Featherington wants absolutely nothing to do with him.

Eloise is the only sibling who never responded to a letter he sent. It’s clear she’s fully aware of the horrible things he’d spoken in a drunken haze nearly five months ago , and in true Eloise fashion she has no intention of betraying her best friend. She doesn’t even speak to him until he drops into the chaise beside her.

“Eloise. I missed you.”

Her bored expression never falters.

“Lovely to have you home, colin.” It’s so formal he nearly snorts at his rebellious little sister.

“I understand you are still displeased with me about my error last season.”

That does it.

“Error?! You call what you did an error?” Her body twists towards him and she fixes him with an outraged glare.

“Well yes, it’s was uncalled for and I…”

“Uncalled for?! I’ve never known you to be a fool but I find I do not know you at all. You nearly ruined her , Colin! She was wiped from the marriage market by your comments alone! If even her best friend couldn’t imagine being with her, why would anyone else? You have no idea what you accomplished!” Eloise pants, her face alarmingly red. “And then, when the damage was done you ran off to travel the world leaving Penelope to fix her reputation entirely on her own! And the audacity to write to her.”

Theres pain in his gut, crushing and turning everything in his stomach until he’s left nauseous and weak. What had he done? Was he truly that blind to see how fragile Pen was already? If anyone knew how desperately she wanted a husband, a family, it was him. And he had spoken so callously, degraded the one decent woman in the entirety of the ton.

“But you needn’t worry, penelope is no longer the Insipid wallflower you once knew. She has blossomed quite beautifully, I myself was astonished by her transformation.” Kate calls from her place at the head desk in the drawing room, a knowing sparkle in her eye.

“It’s true! She’s the prettiest one at all of the festivals.” Gregory is fussing with his gift while he speaks but makes sure to keep eye contact with Colin when he continues “and everyone says so.” It feels strangely like a warning from the 12 year old.

“Do we speak of Penelope?” Violet Bridgerton waltzes back into the room “I’ve heard from a reputable source that Lord Debling and Master Anderson both have plans to begin a courtship with our beautiful friend. I’m so intrigued to see who she will choose to marry.”

“Marry?!” His voice carry’s over the deafening crack of thunder “she can’t marry! She would need at-least a season of courting and this one’s nearly over. If they haven’t begun courting her yet, it would be wise to wait until next year to begin!” He feels hot, sweaty, his heart beating so fast it’s bound to give way to his mania any moment now.

“Not in Penelope’s case. This is her third season with no matches, she’s more than welcome to accept whomever she chooses at whatever time.” Violet is perched on Simons lap.

“I quite like Debling. I believe he would make a good addition to the family.” The duke tickles his wife’s ribs.

“As do I. We all get on quite well and since Penelope is essentially a sixth Bridgerton sister it will be nice to have someone we can all tolerate.” Anthony adds.

“She is not marrying Debling!” Colin’s voice is firm and slightly frantic, panic rising up the back of his neck. “She will not marry this season.”

“And who are you to decide what she does brother? Have you not done enough. Your opinion is inconsequential and it would do best for you to keep it to yourself, lest you scare any more suitors off.” Eloise has her hands on her hips and it’s almost intimidating enough for him to stop speaking but God himself could not save Colin Bridgerton now.

“There will be no more suitors and she will not be marrying any of these men!” He barks, firm and unmoving.

“Why do you keep saying that?!” Eloise shouts.

“Because she will marry me!” The words pour out of him in a roar, his chest heaves and his hands ball his neatly pressed pants. “She will marry me when I am done courting her, she deserves the full courting experience. I had intended to come home at the start of the Season so I could do it properly but my boat went down at a shipping port and I didn’t make it out of Greece for weeks.

Violet claps her hands, a watery smile on her lips

“These are your intentions, dear?”

He has never seen his mother so proud, joy shining in her eyes.

“Yes. They have been since I left All those months ago. I regret the words I spoke instantly and I needed to figure out why. It didn’t take me long to realize Penelope is the one I desire, I crave, I need her in every humanly way.” It feels like a weight has been lifted off my chest

… until of course, Eloise speaks.

“We’ll best of luck on that journey, brother. Penelope Featherington absolutely loathes you.” She takes too much pleasure from his pain.

“All will work out as it should.” Violet pats his shoulder gently before walking back out.

He needs to fix this before someone else takes his place.

He needs to court Penelope Featherington, and he needs to court her right now.

[sea-owl]

So this is similar to my spouses' time travel au but instead of just them remembering the Bridgertons also remember and of course they got no chill. It's not officially part of the au, I just want to make myself giggle with a what if.

Anthony Bridgerton had woken up alone in his bed in the Bridgerton House. He was confused at first because usually he would wake up beside his beautiful wife, but there were times she had early meetings to get to. Was today one of those days? She must have left a while ago because her side of the bed was cold. Who was his wife-

Five screams tore Anthony out of his thoughts and had him darting out of his bed. None of those screams sounded anything like his children so who-?

Seven doors were thrown open at the same time and Anthony was faced with five of his much younger looking siblings and their mother, who looked like the other shoe finally dropped. 

What were his siblings doing in his house? Don’t they all have their own homes and families to bother? And how the hell do they all look so much younger? If Anthony didn’t know any better, he would say they were at ages when Daphne had her first season. All of them copied Anthony’s look of suspicion.  And where was Kate? Is she part of this elaborate prank? Were his other in-laws involved too? 

Before any of the siblings could start blaming one another Violet calls a family meeting in the drawing room. Her six oldest children following behind her. 

“First tell me what was the last thing you all remember?” Violet asked as they all settled in. 

The answer was the same among the six siblings, Gregory’s wedding and them welcoming Lucy to the family. 

Violet nodded. “At least you all came from the same time.”

“Mother what are you talking about?” Anthony asked.

Violet sighed, bracing herself. “The year is no longer 1827, it is now 1813, the season will be starting again in a few months.”

The six siblings sat stunned, all of them staring at their mother. Daphne was the one to break the silence, her voice sounding scared. “Mother this is not funny. Please whatever elaborate prank our spouses or Gregory and Hyacinth are pulling it must stop.” 

Before Violet could say anything else the arguing voices of a twelve year old Gregory and a ten year old Hyacinth fill their siblings ears as they rush past the drawing room. 

That could certainly not be faked. 

The drawing room bursted into chaos. Colin started pacing by a window. Francesca sunk lower into her seat, grabbing onto Eloise and keeping her in place. Benedict started playing with hands as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them. Anthony is staring at a wall, and Daphne is burying her face in her hands. 

“My children don’t exist,” Daphne mumbled to herself, “and my husband is currently not my husband.”

“At least Simon comes this year, and you don’t have to wait another eleven years,” Eloise argued as she continued to hold onto Francesca. 

“Eloise!” Violet snapped. “I’m sure this can’t be easy for any of you. You do not need to take out on one another.” 

Colin stopped pacing and just stared out the window, bewildered. Benedict taking notice of his younger brother joined him at the window and then he too was staring. 

“I think I'm hallucinating,” Colin said. 

“I don’t think it’s possible to have the same hallucinations,’ Benedict replied, eyes still glued to the window. 

“I say what the devil are you two looking at?” Anthony joined at the window, and then joined the staring. 

Now curious Violet and the girls also took a peak out the window. The view of the window put the Featherington House insight. Getting out of two carriages marked with Lady Danbury’s crest was their spouses. Kate, Sophie, and Penelope were giggling at the boys as they stepped out of one carriage. In the other carriage Phillip stumbled onto Simon after Michael accidentally tripped him. 

Five seconds later all six siblings were scrambling towards the door with Violet chasing after them.  

“Don’t you dare leave this house! None of you are dressed! Don’t make me drag you back by your ears!” 

[thekatebridgerton]

I wonder what a weird sci Fi movie Bridgerton might be like.

Depends because science fiction is a pretty big genre. Considering that it spans anything that has to do with futuristic events (dystopia, utopia, any kind apocalypse au, etc) science advancements that sound fictional (robot aus, AI, time travel machines au) to all fiction set in any sort of place that is not planet earth (space travel au, astronaut au, alien visitation au, waking up in mars au) so it would be something to see. And since I haven't watched any of the true gems of the genre yet I don't have an educated opinion.

Although I'd love to see a Matrix or Tron Legacy sort of au for the Bridgertons, something very futuristc and jazzy. Anthony and Kate as Neo and Trinity would be fun to read.

And if we touch on Disney A Meet The Robinsons au would be my one true heart's desire. With Agatha Bridgerton using a time machine to find teenage Colin and convince him that if he doesn't follow his dreams then her father will never invent the time machine. And she needs help getting back home because her time machine is broken. Only for teenage Colin to find out in the end after visiting the future, where all of Agatha's aunts and uncles welcome him very warmly, (aunt Kate, aunts Sophie, uncle Phillip, Simon etc) that Agatha's mysterious scientist parents are Penelope and Colin himself and that he invented the time machine in an effort to impress his future wife.

[checkoutmybookshelf]

Of Fire and Featheringtons: Chapter 1

Well hello friends, and welcome to my second Polin fic! This one builds on The Polin Fic (I Could Have Told You 'Bout the Long Nights on Ao3) so be sure to read that before diving into this one!

Like the other one, this fic is safe for work, but a few warnings do apply! If house fires, house fire injuries, mild gore, and mild blood aren't your thing, then don't be afraid to give this fic a pass. I'll be updating it every week here and on Ao3, so check back for updates.

I hope you enjoy this Polin fic, I had a blast writing it!

Penelope jerked awake to the sound of watchmen’s bells and shouts, which were quickly echoed and amplified by the voices of their neighbors and servants. The bed flexed beneath her, and she shivered as the warmth of Colin’s bulk lifted from the mattress. She waited beneath the covers as she listened to the rustles and grumbles of Colin pulling on breeches and a shirt; if their butler didn’t knock to wake them, she wouldn’t need to—

A sudden flurry of polite knocks sounded at their bedroom door.

Penelope sighed and rose, slipping a pelisse over her chemise and collecting an unlit candle from a small table to light from the one their butler would be carrying. She heard the door open and Colin’s voice, still thick with sleep but carrying an undeniable tone of urgency.

“Whose house is it this time?”

“The Earl of Chatteris, sir,” replied the butler.

“Oh no,” gasped Penelope. “Lady Holroyd is with child. I’ll take Anna and collect her immediately.” The butler stepped back to allow Penelope to pass, but Colin caught his wife’s hand as she slid past him.

“Be careful, Pen,” he said quietly, pressing a quick kiss against her temple.

“Don’t worry, Colin,” she replied. “If we are very, very lucky, this has just scuppered next week’s Smythe-Smith/Holroyd musicale.” Colin’s soft snort of amusement faded behind Penelope as she trotted down the hall to collect Anna and some blankets to keep Honoria Holroyd, née Smythe-Smith, Countess of Chatteris, and her maids warm while the men of the neighborhood tried to save as much of their Mayfair townhouse as possible.

Penelope had little hope of the latter; it was mid-July, and they had seen precious little rain all summer. Things were dry as kindling, and several families’ townhomes had had their burned to the ground. That there hadn’t been any fatalities yet was three-quarters of a miracle, particularly because the Queen, Lady Danbury, and Penelope were beginning to suspect arson.

It was not uncommon for fires to break out in summer; however, the small fire brigades were highly effective, and it was rare to lose entire structures, even in the poorer parts of London. Losing an entire building in Mayfair was typically a once-a-decade occurrence. Five buildings had been lost in three months this season, and there had been increasing numbers of false alarms as people began to panic and mistake flickering but controlled firelight as an imminent emergency.

The ton was beginning to panic.

That more than any particular affection for the Countess was why Penelope had taken to making sure she was on the scene of any ton house fires where women and children were present. Panicked would-be firefighters tended not to notice if they knocked to the ground and trampled small children or women. The Bridgerton carriage that Pen and Colin maintained, while not as substantial or fancy as that of the Viscount’s, was still substantial enough that it would not be casually knocked asunder, and had the space to get any maids, ladies, or children out of the way and keep them safe. They couldn’t plan ahead for hot bricks, but with sufficient blankets and bodies, the carriage ensured that nobody died of exposure while waiting for the fire to go out or while being transported to the homes of family or friends.

The carriage slowed and stopped after a brief ride, and Penelope opened the carriage door on a sadly familiar scene.

The structure was fully ablaze, and the flickering light of the fire at night made things glow and move in an almost unearthly fashion as it completely ruined the night sight of all and sundry. The fire brigade for the neighborhood was already on site. and Penelope caught sight of a shock of Featherington red hair next to a set of shoulders that were intimately familiar to her among a group of other neighborhood young men running buckets back and forth. Colin had fetched her cousin, Felix, who was staying with them that summer as a favor to a branch of country Featheringtons, before heading to the fire. Colin and Felix would have been on horseback, unencumbered by the carriage, and beaten her and Anna to the scene. Penelope spared the second to sigh at the whining she would undoubtedly hear from Felix once all this was over. The young man had a disappointing lack of awareness of community and fellowship, which was made sharper and even less admirable by a disagreeable nature. But Felix would be a problem for Penelope later.

A scent reminiscent of bonfire pervaded the air, but it was somehow bigger and more violent than the friendly scent that accompanied the roasting of marshmallows, a new French confection that had gained instant popularity as a treat at country-house balls. This fire—like the others she had been present for—also had a greasy undertone to the scent. Penelope wouldn’t be at all surprised if an investigation revealed that delicate containers of oil had been planted and lit throughout the house to encourage the conflagration. Once they began looking, each fire that was investigated showed evidence of accelerant use, although Penelope’s sources disagreed on what precisely was used.

She couldn’t immediately see Lady Holroyd, and she didn’t bother calling for her; the roar of the fire nearly drowned out the men’s shouts. Her voice would be lost the moment it left her mouth. Instead, hand locked with Anna’s, Penelope circled the perimeter of the action, eyes sweeping for a stationary figure. Her experience as a wallflower served her alarmingly well, and she picked her way through the chaos quickly and with purpose, avoiding men whose eyes simply slid over her and Anna. Anna was tucked in so close behind Penelope that she barely had to yell for Penelope to hear her.

“There, to your left, Penelope!” Pen’s eyes swiveled as she tucked them briefly against a wall. Just as Anna had said, to Penelope’s left was a point of stillness, where a clump of maids surrounded an extremely pregnant, sooty, shrilly keening Lady Holroyd. Penelope’s stomach sank for a split second as she realized that Lady Holroyd was clutching her violin to her prominent belly.

So much for avoiding the Smythe-Smith/Holroyd musicale.

Seeing a break in the parade of running men, Penelope made a break for the clump of women, Anna practically glued to her hip to keep them both clear of men carrying buckets and ladders. What looked like three kitchen or house maids were clutching each other’s arms and crying. A lady’s maid, who looked to be made of slightly sterner stuff, had one arm around Lady Holroyd and the other clamped around the upper arm of an absurdly small young woman who was wearing the apron and cap of a cook. They were all sooty and had small burns from embers in their nightgowns and the various shawls and cloaks they were wrapped in. Standing in front of all of them was a woman Penelope recognized as their housekeeper.

“Mrs. Cooper!” yelled Penelope, over the noise. “Bring the maids, follow me.” She quickly took the blanket from Anna’s arms and with the lady’s maid’s help, got it wrapped around Lady Holroyd, who was still keening and whose eyes were darting back and forth, panicked. Anna had taken the maids in hand as soon as Penelope had taken the blanket, and Mrs. Cooper had taken charge of the very young cook. Rather than waste time trying to get through to Lady Holroyd herself, Penelope caught the eye of the lady’s maid as she took Lady Holroyd’s other arm. Once she was sure she had the girl’s attention, Penelope yelled, “Stay close, follow me.” The maid nodded, chivvying her mistress forward and keeping her pressed against Penelope.

A sudden groaning creak sounded behind them, followed by a shuddering, howling crash.

The roof, Penelope realized as she kept moving toward her carriage. A rush of hot air and sparkling embers like demonic fireflies hit their backs and blew past the group of women. Penelope was grateful for the long sleeves on her pelisse; they protected her from hot debris. The maids behind her shrieked and whimpered as embers brushed bare skin, and she briefly heard the sound of fabric slapping fabric, as though someone was putting out a smoldering patch on a shawl.

Some instinct made her stop dead in her tracks; six men in a pack barreled by within scant inches of her nose. Lady Holroyd screeched right in her ear, and Penelope winced, reaffirming her grip on the other woman’s arm. One more push, and they could get to the relative safety of the carriage. Penelope looked back and caught Anna’s eye; the other woman nodded, ready to follow. Taking a deep breath and looking to either side of her, Penelope sprinted the final stretch to the carriage, ripping the door open and bodily shoving Lady Holroyd in. The lady was rapidly followed by her maid, and Penelope packed the other women into the space before Anna planted a hand in her back and shoved, indicating that everyone else was in. Penelope squeezed into the packed space, caught Anna’s hand, and pulled her up. Anna slammed the door behind her.

Penelope pounded on the roof, and the driver pulled the carriage further down the street. They were still in sight of the burning house, but they were clear of debris and the widening circle as the men gave up on the townhouse and focused their efforts on a wider radius to ensure that no other townhouses caught fire. Penelope hoped that Colin stayed at ground level this time and let the more experienced firemen take positions on the roofs of adjacent houses to ensure that no clumps of burning matter landed and sparked a second conflagration. Two fires ago, she had watched him run a roofline with sopping wet sacking in one hand to beat a small patch of flame into submission. Her heart had nearly stopped then and there at the thought that he could slip, fall, and break his neck on the cobblestones before her eyes.

Now, as she had then, she wrenched her thoughts away from her husband and focused on the frightened, sobbing women before her.

“Did everyone get out, Mrs. Cooper? Is anyone hurt?” she asked, as Anna was checking small burns, wiping tears, and gently shushing the maids.

“As far as I can tell, the household made it out,” the housekeeper replied, her voice hoarse and scratchy from yelling and smoke. “My lady and the girls are all right; I can’t speak for the menfolk fighting the fire.” Anna was pressing biscuits into the hands of the maids and the cook now. The lady’s maid took hers and put it in Lady Holroyd’s hands, murmuring softly to her and encouraging her to have a bite. Lady Holroyd herself seemed lost now that she was safe and out of the immediate line of the emergency. The neck of the violin was nearly on a level with Penelope’s chin, and she kept half an eye on it to prevent it from poking her as she asked the next question.

“Once we collect the Earl and the rest of the household, where can we take you?” Taking a breath to answer, Mrs. Cooper was overcome by a fit of coughing, and Lady Holroyd, who’s head had come up when Penelope mentioned the Earl, piped up.

“Where is Marcus? We cannot leave him, I will not!”

“It will be all right, my lady—” began her lady’s maid.

“We will not leave him—” started Penelope, simultaneously. Both women were interrupted by a renewed yelp from Lady Holroyd in a significantly different tone, accompanied by the sound of liquid dripping onto the carriage floor.

“Now is not the time!” declared Lady Holroyd. “I want Mama. She promised she would be here for this!” Pen met the eyes of the lady’s maid and saw her own horror reflected back at her.

“Right, change of plans,” said Penelope, banging on the carriage roof to bring her driver to the door. Cracking it open, she ordered him to take them to the Smythe-Smith house, which was only a few streets over.

“Wait,” barked Mrs. Cooper. “I should stay to let my lord know where you have gone. Emily has my lady well in hand for now.” With an agility Penelope wished she possessed now, let alone at Mrs. Cooper’s age, the housekeeper extricated herself from the pack of bodies amidst Lady Holroyd’s moans and snapped the door shut behind her. The carriage leaped forward, and the end of the violin hit Penelope in the face as Lady Holroyd crushed her hand.

As they pulled up before the Smythe-Smith house, Penelope was briefly worried about how precisely she was going to explain arriving with a group of singed staff and a laboring Lady Holroyd, but a bellowed curse from the latter as soon as the carriage door opened that would not have sounded out of place in the sketchiest part of London’s dockside district brought Lady Smythe-Smith herself running. Within ten minutes, a footman had been dispatched for the doctor and Lady Holroyd had been bundled off to her childhood bedroom, and Anna had chivvied the female Holroyd staff members down to the Smythe-Smith kitchen for food, tea, and borrowed day dresses.

Penelope was left standing awkwardly in the foyer, clutching the violin until John and Daniel Smythe-Smith were shooed from the family’s rooms and invited Penelope to rest in their sitting room, where she abandoned the violin on a side table. Daniel rang for tea before awkwardly sitting next to his brother across from Penelope, both in rumpled breeches with untucked shirts under haphazardly buttoned waistcoats. Both lacked stockings, having shoved bare feet into shoes to get to their yelling sibling sooner. Lord Smythe-Smith soon wandered in, looking positively poleaxed.

“The doctor is here,” he announced vaguely to the room. A few moments later, a maid and Anna entered the room, both holding laden tea trays. The Smythe-Smith maid put down her tray, curtsied, and scuttled from the room, but Anna put her tray down and then came to stand before Penelope.

“Pardon me, Mrs. Bridgerton,” she murmured, as she plucked charred bits from Penelope’s curls. “Are you all right, my lady?”

“I’m fine, and you?” Penelope asked under her breath.

“Fine, my lady. The Holroyd maids are settled. Will you be needing me for anything?”

“No, go get yourself something to eat.” Anna curtsied again—which, like her formality, was for the sake of the Smythe-Smith men; she and Penelope were on easy first name terms in private—and left for the kitchens, leaving Penelope and the men alone. Periodically, Lady Holroyd’s cries could be heard from upstairs as the four sat silently, occasionally sipping on tea.

Now that everyone was as well taken care of as she could make them, Penelope felt exhaustion creep into her bones. Her role was never as physically strenuous as that of the men who actively fought the fire, and she never felt the emotional strain of staying cool and in command in the moment, but the aftermath never failed to exhaust her. It was as though her competence wrote checks when it counted, and her body paid the bill once everyone was safe. She wanted nothing more than to return to her home and let the sound of Colin’s heartbeat lull her to sleep, but if Mrs. Cooper was going to tell the men that she had brought Lady Holroyd here, then she had best stay put; Colin would collect her here.

The Mayfair fire brigade was extraordinarily competent. They would remain and watch the ruined house until the ashes had cooled, but they would send the gentlemen and neighbors home as soon as the danger of the surrounding houses catching fire had gone. In the meantime, none of the Smythe-Smith gentlemen seemed interested in talking, so Penelope dozed on the settee, pretending to be intensely interested in her half-drunk cup of tea as the windows lightened with the oncoming dawn, and Lady Holroyd’s yelps grew more frequent.

John was gently snoring in a chair when there was hammering on the front door. He jumped so hard that he fell from the chair, and Penelope started so hard that she nearly dropped her teacup. The pounding was punctuated by an exhausted shout: “Honoria!”

“That will be Lord Holroyd, then,” said Penelope, as Lord Smythe-Smith stumbled out of the room, followed closely by his sons. She listened as doors banged and feet pounded across the floor and up the stairs. She was so focused on listening that she didn’t notice anyone else was in the room until a warm hand cupped her cheek, and a kiss was pressed to her forehead, filling her nose with the scents of smoke, burned wood, and singed cotton and wool.

Colin.

He straightened, and she smiled up at him.

“Do you know that you are absurdly tall up there?” she asked. He gave her a lopsided smile, which never failed to make her weak at the knees.

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” He flopped down next to her in a distinctly ungentlemanly fashion, his body leaning toward hers without transferring any weight to her. As he did so, Felix was revealed, arms crossed and face pouty. He was no more singed or sooty than Colin was—indeed, a less generous eye would have said he was less smutched—but he bore it less well.

“Felix, please sit before you fall over. It’s been a difficult morning,” she said, gesturing to an empty but comfortable-looking chair. Where Colin had flopped comfortably, Felix minced toward the chair, and sat on its very edge. His body language was completely closed off, but Penelope could count on one hand the number of times she had seen his body language open since he had arrived on their doorstep in April. With a smile and a “there now, isn’t that better?” for her cousin, Penelope leaned forward carefully, maintaining as much contact with Colin as she could while still being able to pour both men cups of barely lukewarm tea and fix two plates of biscuits and finger foods for them. Colin downed the entire cup of tea and inhaled three biscuits by the time Penelope poured a second cup for him. His mouth was still full as she handed him the cup, and he spoke through a mouthful of biscuit.

“Mrs. Bridgerton, you are a queen among women.” Penelope giggled tiredly as Colin drank about a third of the cup and then sat back and really looked at her.

“Are you all right, Pen? You’re pale.”

“I’m just tired, Colin. Well, tired, and mourning the survival of Lady Holroyd’s violin,” she whispered, playfully. “She will teach the baby, and we shall be subject to a second generation of off-key musicales.”

“Dear God, how shall we survive?” Colin asked, through yet another mouthful of biscuit. Penelope was saved from answering by the arrival of Marcus Holroyd and Lord Smythe-Smith.

Lord Holroyd—who, by all rights, should have been thoroughly exhausted—seemed unable to sit still. In the time it took Lord Smythe-Smith to pour three drinks and hand one to Colin, Holroyd had transitioned between four seats and took up pacing before the windows. He was equally as disheveled, smutched, and singed as Colin, if not more so, and he had clearly shoved a nightshirt carelessly into a pair of breeches to fight the fire; only the front quarter was still tucked. The fabric over his arms and shoulders was speckled with tiny burn holes, and a few of them seemed to have burned through to leave angry red weals on his skin.

As she watched Lord Holroyd pace with Lord Smythe-Smith wordlessly following him back and forth, drink extended, Penelope fought giggles. Some combination of the absurdity, the tea, and the relaxed tension in her chest that Colin was here and not splattered across the cobblestones allowed her mind to grind slowly into gear. She wouldn’t get useful information from either Lord or Lady Holroyd; they were justifiably distracted from their house burning down by the birth of their child. She likely wouldn’t be able to get anywhere near the lady’s maid, and the other maids and the cook were unlikely to have useful insights. She would visit the fire brigade later in the day with a basket of cakes and ask questions, but for now… Penelope rose, murmured something about finding Anna, and made a beeline for the Smythe-Smith kitchens to find Mrs. Cooper.

The Smythe-Smith house was one of the older ones in Mayfair, and the servant’s halls and kitchens were an old-style warren of narrow, twisting passageways and compact spaces. However, the current Lord Smythe-Smith’s grandfather had wanted to “modernize” his kitchens, so like the minotaur’s chamber at the center of the labyrinth, Penelope turned the final tight corner, and a spacious kitchen opened before her. It was packed with two households’ worth of staff, but they did all fit.

Not wanting to discomfit anyone in what was arguably their territory, Penelope kept her face down as she crept along the wall to where Mrs. Cooper was seated on a bench with a cup in one hand, a handkerchief in the other, and a couple of the Smythe-Smith cook’s famous honey and lemon lozenges in a half-open twist of paper in her lap. Taking advantage of a coughing fit to ensure that Mrs. Cooper wouldn’t have the opportunity to recognize her and try to rise, Penelope slid onto the bench beside her and took the cup so the other woman could use both hands for her handkerchief.

“Are you well, Mrs. Cooper?” asked Penelope, once the woman’s cough subsided. The housekeeper raised an eyebrow at her, which told Penelope that under other circumstances, she might have earned herself an excruciatingly polite scolding for being there and flouting propriety. Slowly, the eyebrow came back down, however, and Mrs. Cooper’s shoulders twitched slightly, as though she wanted to sigh but did not trust her lungs not to rebel if she did.

“I shall be, Mrs. Bridgerton. The fool girls panicked and hid in the kitchen, and I breathed more smoke than I meant to fetching them out.”

“You were very brave to fetch them out once the conflagration was clearly out of control,” said Penelope, passing the cup back. Something that would have been called a growl in a less dignified figure escaped Mrs. Cooper, try as she did to cover it with a sip from the cup. She did not bother to cover the grimace after the sip.

“Lord, that’s bitter,” she muttered.

“I thought it would be tea, but that is not the case?”

“Mrs. Hurst’s concoction, meant to help expel smoke from the lungs,” replied Mrs. Cooper, coughing briefly into her handkerchief again. “But you aren’t here to ask after my welfare, are you, Mrs. Bridgerton?”

“Not entirely,” admitted Penelope. “But I meant it when I said you were brave, and I am truly glad you will recover.” Mrs. Cooper’s evaluative gaze rested on Penelope long enough that, were Penelope any less than she was, she might have wilted. But as formidable as the experienced housekeeper was, her gaze failed to hold a candle to the queen’s fury.

“I understand why your Anna left a royal post for you, Mrs. Bridgerton. If it’s not too much license, ma’am, I trust I don’t need to say that you have a loyal lady’s maid in her, and I am sure you treat her accordingly.” Penelope smiled, nodding as Mrs. Cooper continued. “That conflagration was out of control before our fool chit of a cook tossed water on a cooking oil fire. I haven’t the faintest idea where my lady found her, but anyone with a nose should have been able to smell the spoiled cooking oil underneath that fire, and anyone with a lick of sense would have known not to sling a full bucket of water on it.”

“You believe the fire was an accident?” asked Penelope.

“Hardly. We don’t use cheap vegetable oil, and that’s what the kitchen smelled like. And no matter how much water the girl threw at a kitchen fire, it wouldn’t set the attic on fire. And the attic was on fire before I knew about the kitchen fire.” Mrs. Cooper did sigh then, her breath rasping. She took another deep sip of the bitter liquid before continuing. “The only reason for opposite ends of the house to be on fire at the same time is if someone set it, Mrs. Bridgerton.”

The pair was interrupted by Anna and a footman in Smythe-Smith livery. Anna dropped a curtsey, and if Penelope didn’t know her maid as well as she did, she wouldn’t have seen than Anna was as exhausted as she was.   

“Pardon me, Mrs. Bridgerton, but Mr. Bridgerton has asked after you, ma’am. I think he wishes to turn toward home.”

“Of course. Thank you, Anna.” Penelope turned to Mrs. Cooper as she rose, gesturing for the older woman to stay seated. “If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to send to us. Mr. Bridgerton and I are happy to assist. Thank you for speaking with me.” Mrs. Cooper half smiled and lifted her cup in a ghost of a toast in acknowledgement as Penelope, Anna, and the footman left the kitchen.

Returning to the sitting room, Penelope found a much calmer ambience than she had left. Lord Holroyd was slumped in a chair across from the couch that Colin and Lord Smythe-Smith occupied, and the plush chair Felix still sat in seemed to be slowly swallowing him. Holroyd was staring into a glass of whiskey and chewing mindlessly on a bite of a sandwich that he held loosely in his other hand. Before she could drop the requisite curtsey, however, there were rapid footsteps behind Penelope that did not quite cover soft burbling noises. She stepped rapidly to one side as a doctor bearing a small bundle entered the room.

“My lord,” he announced, “may I present your son?”

All four men rose, and Colin clapped the new father and grandfather on their shoulders in congratulations. Lord Holroyd was awkward as he took his son from the physician, holding him like porcelain and at an awkward distance from his body rather than cuddling him close, as Colin always did with Daphne and Simon’s son, Augie; Kate and Anthony’s boys, Edmund and Miles; and even Benedict and Sophie’s newborn, Charles.

“What shall you name him, my lord?” the doctor asked. His high-handed tone and utter disinterest in Lady Holroyd—who had performed the hard work, in Penelope’s opinion—made her intensely appreciate the Bridgertons’ insistence on doctors speaking to the patient, whoever the patient may be. The rest of the ton looked on that as a peccadillo that was better not mentioned in polite society, but Penelope found she preferred the Bridgerton’s method. It made her feel more human.

Lord Holroyd looked poleaxed by the question. “Honoria and I had not—not made a decision, we expected to have more time…” Lord Smythe-Smith laughed at that, extended his arms for his grandson, and held him far more competently than his son-in-law had.

“The first one always comes sooner than you expect, Marcus,” he boomed, grinning. “Best to be prepared.”

Colin took Penelope’s clenched hand and slipped it through his arm; his other hand went to Felix’s neck in a gesture that he would vehemently disagree that he had picked up from Anthony.

“Our congratulations, Holroyd, Lord Smythe-Smith,” he said. “We wouldn’t dream of intruding on you any further, given the circumstances, so Mrs. Bridgerton and I will take our leave.” Both men nodded, still focused on the baby, as Colin steered Felix and Penelope, flanked by Anna, from the house and into the carriage in full morning light. Colin and Felix’s horses were on long lead reins.

Once safely in the carriage and out of the public eye, Colin held Penelope close, studiously ignoring Felix’s rolling eyes. One of his hands snaked around her waist, coming to rest over the place where Penelope carried a palm-sized mass of scar tissue from an attack that revealed her to the queen as Lady Whistledown. Early in their marriage, Colin had often found his hand there, as though to remind himself that Penelope was with him, had survived. He did not imagine that Pen had not noticed that habit, but neither had she said anything about it. Once he had noticed that he was doing it, he had shortly thereafter noticed that when he did, Pen tended to tuck more closely into his embrace. 

“I am grateful Mrs. Cooper remained behind to tell us where you ladies had disappeared to. My heart nearly stopped beating altogether when we couldn’t find you, and I think Holroyd would have burned the rest of Mayfair down to find his wife. Not that I would have blamed him,” said Colin.

“You don’t trust Anna to look after me?” teased Penelope.

Anna, voice and expression perfectly schooled to textbook lady’s maid’s politeness, deadpanned, “Mrs. Bridgerton makes keeping her safe and within the bounds of propriety an eminently simple task.” Colin laughed outright.

Underneath Colin’s laughter, Felix grumbled, “I see no reason I had to be dragged from my bed tonight. I am no firefighter, and I have no acquaintance with these people.”

Penelope’s momentary flash of hope that Colin wouldn’t hear Felix was dashed, and her own ire rose as Colin’s shoulders tensed, subtly squeezing her. Generally affable, extroverted, and far-too-willing-to-see-the-good-in-people Colin Bridgerton had, for some inexplicable reason, taken an immediate dislike to Felix. For Penelope’s sake, Colin had spent the first month going well out of his way to be cordial and to include Felix in his trips to White’s, daily activities, and even an early hunting trip. Unfortunately, that hunting trip had revealed Felix as a bluestocking; he had fallen from his horse to the general laughter of all the gentlemen present.

Colin’s attempt to make up for it by introducing Felix to Lumley and his extensive personal library ended in catastrophe—Felix somehow managed to drop an entire pot of tea over Lumley’s first-edition printing of Byron’s The Corsair and showed poor grace in his apology. Penelope had gone so far as to appeal to Lady Danbury for help in tracking down a replacement tome once Colin had washed his hands of the matter and would have simply covered the cost of the original. The two men seemed at odds, no matter the circumstances. And yet, through that initial period, Colin and Penelope had worked together to try to make Felix a welcome, comfortable part of their lives.

That had changed after the first fire of the season. Fife had nearly suffocated in his bed in his bachelor lodgings; only the presence of mind of his valet had saved the young lord’s life. Fife had taken over Colin’s bachelor lodgings after Colin and Penelope married, so once the alarm was raised, Colin had collected Felix and the men of the household to help contain the fire. Felix had—unintentionally, he protested—managed to constantly be in the way of the fire brigade, tripped Colin several times, and had so badly fouled the bucket chain that a second structure ignited. The second building was singed, but structurally sound. Fife’s lodgings had burned to the ground, and Fife himself had been ill from smoke inhalation for a month. To top it all off, Felix had gone on a tirade as Colin watched his gasping friend be rushed to a doctor about how inconvenient the entire affair had been for him personally.

Colin had hauled off and punched Felix when the younger man had groused, “men let each other go hang all the time; why should we bother to ignore that simply because of an inconvenience?” In the end, Colin had returned home alone, waked the household with shouting, and Penelope had collected Felix and seen to it that he had a steak for his black eye.

In the light of the morning, Colin had calmed himself enough to explain that a house fire was a threat to the community, which meant that everyone had a duty to pitch in. It was truly more than Penelope had expected of Colin; he had been raised with that Bridgerton ethos, and it had been solidified during his travels, particularly the ill-advised trips through unstable regions where not pulling together would have killed the entire party. He had little patience for selfish scheming—as had been amply demonstrated by his handling of Cousin Jack’s would-be ruby scheme—and he tended to feel that the Bridgerton perspective was self-evident and required no explanation. She had attributed his willingness to explain his reasoning to Felix as a combination of relief that Fife would recover and a desire to make this arrangement work for her sake.

Felix possessed sufficient self-preservation instincts not to argue with Colin during the impressive lecture he was read. He had also learned to stay out from underfoot at subsequent fires. None of that stopped him from privately grousing to Penelope about all the reasons he should not be required to perform menial labor that the fire brigade was paid to perform for people who sniggered at him behind their hands in public.

Penelope felt herself caught in an untenable situation. She knew all too well the feeling of being ridiculed, how it ate at a heart and soul. And yet, there was a feeling of poison in Felix that was unfamiliar to her, and it seriously concerned her. Lord knew that Penelope had her insecurities and things she did not like about herself, even the odd thing that she had thought her detractors were perhaps not wrong in identifying as deficient. And yet, she had always had Whistledown, the one thing she could hold on to when she thought she might simply fly apart into dust at the cruel laughter or her mother’s careless barbs. Felix seemed not only to lack such a certainty, but he was also transplanted. Penelope had always had familiar surroundings and refuges, but Felix had been sent from his home. Despite her best efforts to make her home Felix’s, he never seemed truly comfortable. None of that was any excuse for acting the scrub, but Penelope thought she could perhaps understand, if not excuse, his behavior.

That sense of understanding had steadily dissolved with each fire and each incident in which Felix had the option to respond with grace and simply did not.

The vibrations of a growl deep in Colin’s chest pulled Penelope from her reverie. The growl was low enough that even she did not hear it over the clatter of wheels and hooves on cobblestone streets, but it left her in little doubt of her husband’s temper.

“I am not having this conversation again,” he snapped. “You will keep your tongue behind your teeth, Felix. Have I made myself clear?”

Felix rolled his eyes, crossed his arms, and sighed, slumping back into his corner of the carriage. “Eminently, Mr. Bridgerton. Would you care to punch me again?”

Colin’s face went scarlet. Without a word, he pounded on the roof of the carriage, and bolted from it once it slowed enough not to break his legs. Moments later, Penelope watched him canter away on his horse toward their home. Colin had not apologized for the initial slap, and Penelope had not asked him to. He had privately confided in her that he was ashamed of the slap; he had allowed his temper and the situation to overcome him, and he felt he had behaved in an ungentlemanly fashion. How Felix had sussed that out, she could not imagine. She had initially thought that Felix had the same unfortunate tendency as Portia—to wound with words through a lack of sensitivity—but that barb had felt aimed and deliberate. Had she misread him? It had happened before, rarely. Penelope did not realize she had lifted an eyebrow to study her cousin until he glanced at her face, and an abashed look flitted across his countenance.

“I suppose you shall want me to apologize, Cousin?” he asked.  

“Not if you’re going to enjoy it.” As she heard herself say the words, Penelope’s brain caught up with her gut memory of the same expressions in Prudence and Philippa’s faces when they felt proud of a clumsy, backhanded apology. Had she not been exhausted, she might have raised her voice to her cousin for aiming such petty cruelty at Colin of all people. “It has been a trying night for everyone, and we are none of us at our best. Once we have slept, we should talk about this, you and I.”

“Cousin,” he protested, a whine creeping into his voice. “There is nothing to discuss. I simply feel no obligation to help a community I am so clearly not a part of.”

“Then we must work harder to bring you into the fold,” Penelope said, with what she hoped was enough finality to end the conversation there. As the carriage rounded the final corner, a familiar carriage parked before their home caught Penelope’s eye.

It seemed her rest would have to wait until after she and Lady Danbury had discussed the latest possible case of arson in Mayfair.

By the time Anna had gotten Penelope into a dress that was on the comfortable side of respectable for daywear, Lady Danbury had been settled in the front room with a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits. As Penelope walked in, she and her guest shared a smile.

“I could almost thank our arsonist twice over,” Lady Danbury remarked, without preamble. “Not only has he spared the ton a Smythe-Smith/Holroyd musicale, but he has spared you and I her Majesty’s displeasure about the amount of fuss Lords Holroyd and Smythe-Smith would have put up were they not distracted by the baby.”

“Lady Holroyd managed to save her violin, so I fear the musicale is less a reprieve than a stay of execution,” said Penelope, pouring herself a cup of tea and settling into her favorite chair, a battered, low-backed thing that had originally been overstuffed but softened with use to gently cradle anyone who sat there. It did nothing for proper posture, but after a sleepless night, Penelope could not have cared less.

“Ah.” Lady Danbury no longer tried to hide eye rolls from Penelope, who giggled.

“Surely you’re not here only to thank our arsonist,” she said. “Has something been found?”

Lady Danbury set down her teacup and reached into her pocket, pulling forth a bulky package wrapped in oilcloth. As she unwrapped it, Penelope’s sensitive nose wrinkled. Smoke, charred wood, burned paint, and—as Mrs. Cooper had mentioned—cheap vegetable oil that had turned and burned. In the package were a twisted hunk of charred metal and a slimy looking chunk of wood.

“I had my man in the Mayfair fire brigade on alert, and he delivered these to me early this morning,” said Lady Danbury. “He hasn’t any idea how the maids and that absurdly incompetent cook survived; that bit of metal is from a cast-iron frying pan. He thinks one of them flung a bucket of water on it, and the temperature shock shattered the metal.”

“I’ll have to drop a word in Lady Holroyd’s ear about her cook,” muttered Penelope.

“I’ve already spoken to her mother,” said Lady Danbury. “The girl is a menace. The wood, however, is somewhat interesting. I am told it is from a roof support beam of the kind commonly used in attics. It was found in a puddle of grease in a corner of the attic that fell away from the main house so it did not burn completely.”

“I spoke to Lady Holroyd’s housekeeper; she thinks the fire was set using cheap vegetable oil,” said Penelope, using a corner of the oilcloth to protect her hands as she turned the chunk of wood over. “This is the third incident we know of in which two fires were set at opposite ends of the house.”

“Have you found anything that can tell us how these fires are set?” asked Lady Danbury. “No one I have cajoled, bribed, or terrified into talking has had any theories; even the fire brigade is unsure how this is occurring. There are never any suspicious visitors or break-ins, and as far as anyone can tell, the fires begin simultaneously. I’m beginning to fear a pair of arsonists. One couldn’t set both fires and escape without notice, not with how quickly the fires spread.”

Penelope continued to turn over the shards for a moment before answering. “I see no way for a single person to achieve these results, but you know what they say, Lady Danbury. Two people can keep a secret if one of them is dead. I cannot imagine we should have lost six homes in Mayfair and not heard some rumor, some whisper of arson in the city. The problem with fire is that it consumes evidence, and it does so quickly. I have no alternative theory, but I also have not visited the Mayfair fire brigade today.” Lady Danbury’s lip curled at that.

“Yes, I am aware of your unique way of currying favor with them.”

“I’m sure you have also found that appreciation of a job well done can elicit information,” said Penelope.

“Yes, and without leaving a financial or paper trail,” said Lady Danbury. “Well, I shall not need to update the queen immediately, but she will not be happy to be without information for more than a day or two, Penelope. We must have a working theory for her soon. The ton are beginning to clamor to her for protection, and we still do not know who or what they need protecting from.”

Penelope sighed. “Yes, it seems that we have nothing but problems with no solutions.”

Lady Danbury raised an eyebrow. “That sigh seems to have more behind it than even the weight of an unknown number of arsonists. Is everything all right, Penelope?”

Penelope didn’t try to hide the small, ever-so-slightly sardonic smile that crossed her face at the question. It had not taken Lady Danbury long to be able to read her nearly as well as Colin and Eloise did. “Colin and Felix are firmly at loggerheads, I’m afraid,” she said.

“Ah. Is this the hunting incident or the Byron incident?”

“Either. Both. And Felix has been somewhat reluctant to come around to Colin’s way of seeing things when it comes to helping with the fires. I admit, I find myself at something of a loss.” Penelope picked at some invisible lint on her skirt. “I’m afraid I’ve read the entire situation wrong, Lady Danbury.”

Leaning across the small tea table, Lady Danbury took Penelope’s hand, interrupting her fussing. “Penelope Bridgerton, you listen to me. For all your remarkable gifts, you are still young, you are still newly married, and—forgive me for saying so—your mama’s family is still a thicket of brambles and nettles. I know you have heard the same rumors and gossip as I have. You and your Mr. Bridgerton have done everything—more—than could be reasonably expected to help Mr. Featherington acclimate to the ton and London society. I’ve never liked Cassius, but he is correct in his assessment that, for some men, the fault is truly in themselves rather than their stars. My second son was like that, and I suspect your cousin is as well. He will simply have to find his own way through the world. You may support him if you wish, Penelope, but he is not likely to thank you for it. I don’t believe you have read the situation wrong, my dear. Your instincts and your mind are top-notch; trust them.”

“I would trust myself, except… Colin mistrusts him. The only other person I’d ever seen Colin mistrust was Cousin Jack, and you know how that ended up.” Penelope’s gratification at Lady Danbury’s affirmation left a warm feeling in Penelope’s chest, but she still could not shake the feeling that she had misread something. Lady Danbury sat back, picking up her teacup.

“It could simply be frustration. Your Mr. Bridgerton is the rare generous soul in the ton, and your cousin is the antithesis of that. I shouldn’t worry too much, Penelope. After all, we have an arsonist to find.”

“Yes, I suppose we do,” said Penelope. The women spent another quarter hour chatting before Lady Danbury excused herself to meet with Queen Charlotte.

Despite her plans to visit the fire brigade with treats after Lady Danbury’s call, when Penelope put her teacup down, she found sitting in her comfortable chair in a sunbeam immensely appealing. When Colin entered the sitting room, Penelope’s head was pillowed on her arms, which were supported by one arm of the comfortable chair, fast asleep. He took a moment to admire how soft her expression was, and how the sunbeam she was sleeping in reflected off the fire that was her hair. He couldn’t remember a moment when she had looked more beautiful than she did just then. She did not so much as stir as he gently kissed her temple, scooped her up in his arms, and took her into their room. She murmured something incomprehensible when he put her down on their bed.

“Go back to sleep,” he whispered, climbing into bed beside her and pulling a light blanket over them. She burrowed into his side and settled once again.

[livingonfanficseyra]

I decided to write down everything that struck me after watching the trailer because I can't control my excitement!!! Sorry in advance! 😅

1. Shondaland and CVD is trying to kill us with beautiful people (Simone, Jonny, Charithra.........) and magnificent sets!! Look at this place!!

2. Violet Bridgerton trapping Anthony the first chance she got! "This is the season the viscount intends to find a wife!" Anthony's reaction is epic! 😆😆😆

3. This scene of Anthony and Mary! (I love Mary) 😍

4. Anthony' reaction to meeting Kate for the first time?! (I think)

5. Bridgertons welcoming the Sharmas to their home!! An excited Violet, holding the baby and Anthony looking on calculatingly, at the back.

6. Anthony and Benedict discussing about Anthony's intention to find a bride with his 'head' and *painful pause* not his 'heart!' Right!

Benedict!! 😍😍😍

7. Also, The sister........."The sister!" 😆

8. "Newton is an excellent judge of character!"

*Newton barks*

"Oh!! See??" SAVAGE KATE!!

9. My most favorite scene from the trailer and if I am not wrong from the season!! Kate shutting the door on Anthony's face!! The expression on his face is priceless!

10. PALL MALL!!

"It's a poor player who plays the game and a wise one who plays the opponent!"

Also, the banter between them is most likely driving the siblings mad! Lol!

11. Kate and Eddie's conversation and let's not talk about the red mark on Kate!! 🤫

12. Holding hands without gloves!! Scandalous!! Then as if it couldn't get any better, Anthony falls in the lake (Newton may/ may not have been a catalyst for that)!! 😂

13. "THE FALL" needs to be elaborated because there's so much happening!

Edwina admiring dripping Anthony and Kate lecturing her on propriety.

Kate turning her head towards Anthony in a wet, white shirt and blatantly running her eyes over him! Uh-oh!

Edwina watching Kate checking Anthony out and thinking "hypocrite much, Katie?"!!

Honorable mention: Ton's shocked reactions(nothing shocking there) while Colin laughs out loud in glee like a true bro! Also, Penelope's giggles were fun!

Part 2

[your3fundamentaltruths]

the distorting mirror

“I didn’t know you were there,” Colin adds lamely, not quite able to meet her eyes. “I did not see you.”

“Of course not,” Penelope replies, but her words lack an edge.

She could not recall their next few inane remarks if her entire Whistledown fortune were at stake.

But then she finally finds the courage to pin the unpleasantness right back where it belongs: on Colin.

After all, this is hardly the first time he’s singled her out unfavorably.

Or, a remix of That Scene from the books, set some unspecified time after yesterday's Polin clip. You can also find this on AO3, where I shared some thoughts on the title, the clip, and the fic in the notes and welcome comments! Part of the counting series.

As she is preparing to walk the short distance to her home after tea with Lady Bridgerton and her daughters, she hears the three elder Bridgerton brothers before she can see them. She cannot discern their exact words, but she can make out the tone: teasing and grumbling and familial, in a way so unlike her own family.

But when she finally can make out what they are saying, the first voice she hears properly is Colin’s and the words are not kind.

“– and I am certainly not going to marry Penelope Featherington!”

“Oh!” The word slips from her lips before she can even think to contain it.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts so much that for a moment she thinks she might die of heartbreak right there on Lady Bridgerton’s steps.

Anthony, Benedict, and Colin turn to look up at her with identical horrified faces.

“Pen,” squeaks Colin. “Er . . . good to see you.” He looks helplessly at his brothers, neither of whom say a word.

The silence is interminable.

“I didn’t know you were there,” Colin adds lamely, not quite able to meet her eyes. “I did not see you.”

“Of course not,” she replies, but her words lack an edge.

She could not recall their next few inane remarks if her entire Whistledown fortune were at stake.

But then she finally finds the courage to pin the unpleasantness right back where it belongs: on Colin.

After all, this is hardly the first time he’s singled her out unfavorably.

You are Pen. You do not count.

It hurt, but she has always made excuses for it, reminding herself that he hadn’t meant any harm, that the words were followed by you are my friend. But now, stung a second time, all she can see is the condescending amusement on his face the first time around.

Who is Colin Bridgerton to decide whether or not she counts?

She is a published author and a business woman, she’s earned enough of a fortune to keep herself in comfort for all of her days, and she has more influence over society than he could ever even dream of. A smashing, if secret, success.

Your love is an unrequited fantasy. Colin sees you as you are and regards you no differently than he does Eloise or even little Hyacinth. He sees me as a wife, a woman . . .

Marina was wrong about one thing: Colin does not see her as she is. And now she is certain he will never see all of her, never see everything she has grown up to be. That may not be the only reason he will never love her or marry her, but it is certainly a contributing factor, which is why perhaps today’s pronouncement should not surprise her, even if it is needlessly public and hurtful.

Perhaps her finally accepting that he will never really see her is the true reason her heart is breaking. Perhaps all this sadness building up inside her is the death of that dream, the dream not only of being loved, but also being fully seen and understood.

And with that, she suddenly realizes that she’s had entirely enough of letting Colin’s carelessness and indifference hurt her and make her feel badly about herself, make her feel unattractive and unworthy and unlovable, unwomanly and unmarriageable.

It is not his fault that he does not love her back – she knows better than anyone that one cannot control one's feelings, or she would have left off loving him long ago to protect herself from further hurt. But it is his fault that he’s put her in a box. And, most importantly, it is his fault that he is so utterly tactless with her, so careless of her feelings, in a way that he would never dream of being with any other lady. He takes for granted that he can smooth anything over with a clever phrase and a beguiling smile. And she lets him. But friends do not treat friends the way Colin has treated her.

It is time for her to bury the part of her that has lived and died for his words and his smiles, that has let his opinions seep into how she perceives herself, that has allowed Marina’s words about how he sees her to echo in her head and her heart for so long.

Colin and his opinions – the bad and the good – are not all that there is. His eyes are not the only eyes that matter.

In fact, it is her own eyes that matter most of all.

So, it is time once and for all to stop seeing herself as reflected back by those dark blue pools of his, to shatter the distorting mirror before it destroys her.

If she does not, she will never like what she sees, she will never see herself as she really is, and she will never be happy.

Squaring her shoulders, she straightens to her full height. With a dignity she never dreamed she possessed, she stares straight at Colin and says, “I never asked you to marry me. And I never said to anyone that I wanted you to ask me.”

“Pen,” Colin finally manages, “I’m so sorry.”

You are Pen. You do not count.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” she lies calmly.

“No,” Colin insists, “I do. I –”

She cuts him off. “Except perhaps for an unbecomingly overweening opinion of your own charms. You must think very highly of yourself indeed if you feel the need to go about announcing which young ladies you won’t marry,” she says with scathing sweetness. “As if we are all waiting breathlessly for you to make your choice and must be warned not to hope in vain.”

How ironic that she is describing herself to a tee, but she notices Anthony and Benedict’s jaws drop with no small amount of satisfaction, which gives her the strength to carry on.

“Or am I the only lady lucky enough to be favored with a mark of such distinction, Mr. Bridgerton?” she asks rhetorically, knowing full well that she is the only lady unlucky enough to be singled out in such a way and daring him to admit it.

Colin flinches and does not say a word.

“Whatever the case may be, I do apologize for any part I might have played in your misapprehension that such an announcement was necessary,” she finishes tightly, amazed that, for once, exactly the right words are coming out of her mouth.

Colin shakes his head. “Don’t be silly, you have nothing to –”

“Now, then, if you will excuse me, gentlemen, I should like to go home. Good day.”

Anthony and Benedict immediately stand back to let her pass, but Colin doesn’t budge. “Pen, don’t you –”

You are Pen. You do not count.

“Good day, Mr. Bridgerton,” she says firmly.

Colin flinches again and steps back, finally allowing her a long overdue escape – from this awful moment, from him and his casual, unknowing cruelty.

[lavellenchanted]

12+30 for whatever pairing you're feeling?

Since I’m still very much in a Bridgerton mood, have some Polin. Theoretically this takes place when Colin gets back from the brothers’ trip in To Sir Philip, With Love, but it’s been years since I read it so I’m not entirely sure how much it’s actually canon compliant . . . but let’s just roll with it.

12. Finally home after a hard day + 30. “You smell nice.”

Dusk was just setting in, painting the sky in radiant streaks of pinks and golds, as the carriage rattled to a halt. Despite the weariness that seemed to be settling into his bones, a jolt of anticipation shot through Colin as he looked up at his townhouse. He was no longer coming home to dark, empty bachelor lodgings, with no one there to greet him (well, apart from the servants and they were paid to be there so it was hardly the same) – his wife was in there, waiting for him, and it would only be a few short steps until he was holding her in his arms again.

Or perhaps even less; he had just opened the carriage door and climbed down to the pavement below when the front door opened and Penelope practically flew down the steps towards him.

Grinning widely, he opened his arms for her embrace –

- but she stopped short, grabbing his hands and looking up at him with anxious eyes.

“What happened? Is Eloise well? Did she come home with you all?”

Well, that certainly put paid to his romantic homecoming.

Damn it, Eloise.

With a dramatic sigh, he rolled his eyes skyward and said in conversational tones, “I have just spent several hours in a carriage after very emotionally trying few days, very much looking forward to returning to the wife I did not want to leave in the first place, and what’s the first thing she says to me?”

A quick glance downwards showed that Penelope’s expression had softened a little, though there was a glimmer of exasperation in her eyes.

“Colin –”

“Is it ‘Welcome home, Colin’?” he continued, putting a finger on her lips to silence her. “Is it ‘How was your journey, my darling?’, is it ‘I’ve missed you dreadfully’ or ‘There’s a full spread waiting for you in the dining room’ or, what I was personally hoping for, ‘I cannot wait to drag you to our bedchamber and make wild, passionate love to you since we’ve been apart the last few days because of your dreadful sister’?”

She was fully smiling beneath his finger now, clearly reassured by his demeanour that, whatever had happened in Somerset, it was nothing of a truly dire nature. A blush stole over her cheeks at his last suggestion, and even in the midst of his disgruntlement Colin couldn’t helping thinking how adorable she was.

“No, no, it’s none of those. It’s ‘How is Eloise’? Honestly. I should think you would be cursing my sister right now, for taking your new husband away from you.”

Penelope gently but firmly removed his finger from her lips, though not before dropping a light kiss on it. Even that was enough to make his heart flutter in his chest, and Colin marvelled again – as he suspected he would be for the rest of his life – at just how much he loved this woman.

“Are you done?” she asked.

Colin thought about it. “I think so.”

“Good. I’m very glad to have you home. Now tell me, what happened? How is –”

“Eloise is fine.” Throwing up his hands, he started up the steps into the hallway, Penelope following in his wake. If he wasn’t getting a passionate reunion outside they might as well have this conversation in the warmth. “There was a minor scuffle but no pistols were drawn, no reputations have been permanently ruined, nor will there be any long-lasting scandal, and I now have a new brother-in-law.”

He listed off the points on his fingers as he spoke. Penelope’s shoulders sank a little with relief as he finished, though he could see a million and more questions practically bursting out of her – and no wonder. If he hadn’t been there he would also have been champing at the bit to hear the full story.

Reaching inside his coat, he pulled out a small, sealed letter with the word Penelope written on the front in a slanted and slightly rushed scrawl.

“She gave me this to give to you before I set off.”

Penelope immediately went to take it, but Colin lifted it high above his head, which put it a good foot and a half above his wife. She was not amused, and gave him a fierce look.

“Colin Bridgerton, you give me that right now.”

Shaking his head, he wagged a finger at her. “Uh-uh. You have to earn it. How about we try that greeting again? And you can’t just repeat my ideas. I’d like something original, please.”

Penelope gave a huff of annoyance, but he could see she was also trying not to smile as she clasped her hands in front of her and looked up at him. “I’m thrilled to have you back, my love, it’s been lonely without you and I missed waking up beside you even just for a few days. How’s that?”

“Much better,” Colin beamed, and bent down to kiss her. It had only been a couple of days, but if it was possible her lips were even softer and sweeter than he remembered. He would never go so long without kissing her again, he vowed to himself, as her hands came up to rest on his shoulders and then ran down his arms –

- to snatch the letter right out of his hand.

“You cunning little –” He gazed after her in awe as she stepped away into the drawing room and started opening her missive. Penelope just threw him a smile over her shoulder, but he was distracted now by something else. “You smell nice. That’s not your usual fragrance, is it?”

Coming up behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and bent to bury his face in her hair and breathe in the scent to make sure.

“No. I may have gotten a new perfume yesterday, and I may have decided to wear it especially for your homecoming,” Penelope murmured, a very fetching pink tinge making its way up her neck.

“Really?” Colin was delighted. He moved from her hair to her neck, kissing as he went. “I think I need to spend some time in very close proximity to you to make sure I like it. And I think it’s imperative you be wearing nothing but this new perfume, so that no other scents can interfere.”

One of his hands had slide up to the buttons on her dress as she spoke and went now to start undoing them, but he was stopped in his track by a light thwack on his cheek as Penelope hit him with her letter.

“Uh-uh. You have to earn it.” He’d rather shot himself in the foot with that one, hadn’t he? Well done, Colin. “Let me read my letter first, and then you can spend as much time as you like judging my perfume.”

“What am I supposed to do while I wait?” Colin demanded as she slid out of his grip and settled herself down on a chair to read.

“I asked the servants to make sure there were sandwiches waiting for you upstairs.”

Was there a more perfect woman in the world? No, no there was not.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too. And Colin?” He turned back in the middle of leaving the room. “Welcome home.”

[crying-over-spilled-feels]

Locks of Love

Disclaimer: The characters in this drabble are owned by Julia Quinn, Shondaland, and Netflix and are thus not owned by me. In addition, I am also not receiving any monetary gain from this drabble. Based on the drabble prompt: “I can braid your hair for you, if you’d like.”

Word Count: 592

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           As fresh newlyweds, Gregory and Lucy Bridgerton are currently still living in what once were Gregory’s rather small and cramped bachelor lodgings until they can find a house large enough to call their own. That being said, unlike when she was known as Lady Lucinda Abernathy and lived either with Hermione at Miss Moss’ or at the Fennsworth manor, Lucy now does not have a friend to help her get ready, nor many staff to do so either. This is not an issue for the newly wedded woman, as she loves her dear husband Gregory so much and trusts him with everything, so much so that she didn’t put up too much of a fuss when he tied her to the water closet on the day of her wedding to Lord Haselby. That was now water under the bridge and Lucy and Gregory laugh about it rather frequently and amuse themselves so. Currently, Lucy is sitting at her vanity table, brushing out her long, curly blonde hair before bed, taking extra care not to pull on any knots that may have formed in her hair throughout the day. When a pair of arms wrap around her waist from behind, Lucy is a little surprised, given that Gregory had gone out earlier in the night with Anthony and Colin for drinks at White’s since Benedict was still in residence at My Cottage.

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           “Gregory! Welcome home, darling,” Lucy smiles, pressing a kiss to her husband’s cheek as she continues to brush her hair to keep it free from tangles. “How was your night with your brothers?” she inquires, sighing happily as Gregory rests his chin on the top of her head of blonde curls.

“It was a fun time, love. We got a couple drinks, Colin and Penelope have invited us to dinner at week’s end, and Anthony says he is taking Edmund hunting in the woods for the first time soon,” Gregory answers, mesmerized by the sight of his wife brushing out her lovely locks in front of the vanity’s mirror.

A brief moment of comfortable silence passes between them before Gregory speaks again.

“I can braid your hair for you, if you would like,” Gregory offers, taking Lucy’s hair in his hands and reverently running his fingers through her blonde curls.

“You know how to braid hair?” Lucy questions out of shock, spinning around to face the youngest Bridgerton brother, not knowing her husband possessed such a skill.

“But of course,” Gregory answers matter-of-factly. “You must remember I do have loads of nieces and sisters, after all. They all love getting their hair braided. Though, according to Anthony, none of us Bridgerton men or Bridgerton in-laws are worthy enough to braid Charlotte’s hair. That is a duty that rests solely on Anthony’s and Kate’s shoulders, apparently,” he smirks at his wife, all while beginning to braid her blonde tresses between his larger fingers.

“But of course. She is Anthony’s little princess and Kate is his queen,” Lucy smiles in knowing, especially as she is quite close to her sister-in-law Kate since she is the one who introduced Lucy and Gregory at the summer party at Aubrey Hall.

“Naturally. Now, then, just relax and close your eyes while I conduct my masterful work,” Gregory smiles, dropping down and pressing a kiss to Lucy’s lips.

Lucy grins against his lips and returns the kiss, so very, very fortunate that Lord Haselby was kind enough to grant her an annulment where she could marry the love of her life and the man of her dreams.

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Author’s Note: Gregory and Lucy were such a phenomenal pairing to me, and I loved them immensely! They started off as friends and had quite a wonderful chemistry to me as they ate breakfast together, searched for Richard and Hermione, and then eventually began to fall in love with one another. All of the Bridgerton couples were just so amazing to me, and I was a little sad to finish this book since it is the last in the Bridgerton ennealogy (especially since I had already read the ninth book of Bridgertons: Happily Ever After since all I had left to read of that was the novella Violet in Bloom). I definitely need to find the Bridgerton prequels because I definitely need more of this family in my life! Also, can we agree on how AMAZING Season 2 was with our Kate and Anthony content??? (Although I do wish they had gotten more screentime together…) Thank you as always for the support, dear readers, and I definitely will be writing more Bridgerton stories for all of the couples throughout my free time! I already have plenty of ideas. 😊 Until next time, dear readers! Have a wonderful day, afternoon, or night!

[sofwrites]

Bridgerton blurb #3

The One Where Phillip Makes a Friend

Because having 4 (rather aggressive) idiots for brothers-in-law makes life a bit difficult.

read on ao3 or under the cut 😬

As he stood alone for the first time that day, Phillip glanced around his terrace and wondered how the hell his life had led to this point.

Somehow, he was at the reception of his own wedding. Somehow, Romney Hall had become host to more guests than it had seen in well over a decade. And somehow, he was now surrounded by dozens (plural) of people who now regarded him as family.

Phillip had never been the talkative type, but he hadn’t been given much choice that day. Since that morning, he’d had to be introduced to his new wife’s mother, and then to her sisters (except for the one who was still in Scotland), and then to the remainder of her sisters-in-law (who all apologized on behalf of their husbands).

And he was utterly exhausted.

Everywhere he looked, they were all just there. The Bridgerton men had taken it upon themselves to continue vetting Phillip to ensure that he would make a good husband (he had no plans otherwise- and it’s not as if he would ever allow them to take Eloise away now). The women, in turn, had then undergone the task of making up for the men by welcoming him a bit too warmly into the family. And the children, oh, the many, many children were running everywhere, his own twins somewhere among the lot.

Which, he had to admit with a smile, was one of the best parts. He’d wanted a family for his children, and he’d certainly been successful in that endeavor.

But even better than that was his new wife. His amazing, energetic, loving new wife who had brought joy back into his life and his home. If it came to Eloise, he would happily deal with her enormous extensive family.

However, he thought rather glumly, he would still very much prefer if they all buggered off so that he could finally take his wife to their bedchamber and lock the door for several days. He was practically counting down the minutes until he could take her by the-

“Sir Phillip.”

He tried not to groan as he looked up, having gotten to enjoy his solemnity for barely two minutes. Thankfully, the owner of the voice was his only brother-in-law not of the Bridgerton variety. And even more thankfully, he was holding out a second glass of brandy.

“Your Grace,” Phillip nodded his thanks as he took the drink.

The duke returned his nod, “Please, call me Simon. We are family now after all.”

Phillip nodded again, this time a bit awkwardly. He rather lacked the willpower for conversation anymore that day.

Evidentially, they both seemed to share that in common, instead using their mouths to sip their brandies. In all truth, Simon hadn’t had any desire to approach the man in the first place, but his wife had requested it. As she’d claimed, “Poor Phillip’s going to need an ally on his side with my brothers.” And though Simon could testify to that fact, his wife had seemed to have forgotten that he wasn’t the talkative type. And even more unfortunately, it seemed that neither was their new family member.

After a rather painful minute of absolute silence, Simon cleared his throat. “I heard you had quite the introduction to Eloise’s brothers.”

Phillip offered him a tight smile, unsure of exactly how honest he could be. “You could say that.”

“Just be glad you weren’t the first,” Simon remarked as he took a sip of his drink.

Trying not to appear overly intrigued, Philip asked, “And why is that?”

Simon eyed the three oldest Bridgerton men across the room. “They were rather… unyielding when they were unmarried. Trust me when I tell you that they’re much more temperate now.” Better halves, indeed, Simon always thought of their wives.

“Somehow, I find that difficult to believe,” Philip muttered, casting a distasteful glance towards the brothers. He may have bonded with some of them, but it was more due to salvation than an actual desire to be friends.

Simon looked at him with a hint of amusement. “Anthony challenged me to a duel.”

Phillip turned to him, straightening his back reflexively. “He tried to strangle me.”

“He was prepared to kill me.”

“He almost did kill me.”

The duke’s eyebrow rose. “Did I mention that he was my best friend at the time?”

“And did I mention that they stormed into my house?”

“They stormed into my house as well. After I’d already been married for a few months.”

Phillip’s eyes widened in panic for a moment. They could do that again? He might need to seriously consider moving somewhere else if that would be the case. Or, perhaps, he’d need to buy his wife a better shotgun.

“Well, they all came to attack me. Including Gregory.”

Simon cast a glance towards the youngest Bridgerton brother and then gave a little nod in acknowledgment. “I’m impressed that you’re still standing.”

“… Well, I suppose only three of them really attacked me.”

“I assume that Colin just watched?”

Phillip blinked for a moment before answering. “Yes, actually.”

Simon nodded knowingly, “I’m sure he mentioned that he’s a newlywed.”

“It might have come up,” Phillip mumbled with a hint of sarcasm. “But it was really Eloise who helped.”

The corner of the duke’s lips rose, and he admitted, “Daphne stopped the duel.”

“Ah.”

The two men inspected each other silently for a moment, as if trying to decide whether they were to be on the same or opposite side of a war.

But finally, Simon reached out a hand. “Welcome,” he gave the other gentleman a small grin, “To the family.”

And as they clasped hands, an alliance had been made.

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Across the room, two Bridgerton sisters were huddled together as they watched their husbands exchange a handshake across the patio.

“Thanks, Daph," Eloise whispered as she squeezed her hand.

“Not a problem."

“I think they’ve found some common ground,” Eloise commented, watching as the two men shared a laugh and a glance towards their brothers.

Daphne followed her gaze, cocking her head a bit. “Do you think they’re planning their revenge?”

“I certainly hope so,” Eloise’s lips twisted into a smirk, quite pleased to see Philip enjoying himself. “The idiots deserve it.”

“Mmm. Should we tell their wives?” There wasn't even a single hint of concern in her voice.

“Most definitely,” Eloise nodded seriously. “They’ll be absolutely gutted if they don’t get to help.”

[pennywaltzy]

Truth Be Told - Daphne Bridgerton knows from the start the type of marriage she will have with Simon Basset: a happy, loving, tender marriage...but a marriage without children. She will not ask Simon to break the vow he made to his father on his deathbed, though that means her dreams will not be fulfilled. And for a time, they are blissfully happy, until an evening of too much wine, where Simon forgets his technique to keep her from having children when they make love.

Simon knows there's a chance Daphne could be with child and it's all his fault. He wonders, however, if his vow to his father outweighs the vows he made to his wife, and he wrestles with what it all means to him, distancing himself from his wife in the process. Will they have the happily ever after they want for each other, or will their marriage crumble under the weight of a promise made long ago, before love entered their lives?

READ CHAPTER 1 | READ CHAPTER 2

The men watched Colin and Daphne ride back home, and as soon as Daphne was out of sight Anthony took two steps forward and punched Simon hard in the shoulder. “What was that for?” Simon asked, surprised.

“All of this fuss could have been saved if you had simply agreed to marry her in the garden,” Anthony said, shaking his head. “So many things are in the air now…”

“But I’m marrying her, which was the other point of this duel,” Simon said. “Assuming I didn’t let you kill me first.”

“And why were you so willing to die?” Benedict asked curiously.

“Because I love your sister but I won’t give her the family she wants.” And yet she’ll still marry me, he added to himself, half in wonder. He did not deserve Daphne but he would show her that he worshiped the very ground she walked on every day of their lives together.

“Why? Don’t you want a legacy?” Benedict asked, looking confused now.

“Your father,” Anthony said quietly.

“Yes. I made the bastard a deathbed promise that the line would die with me. I intended never to marry in order to keep that promise, but now…” He looked at Anthony. “We need to secure a special license if we were seen in the garden as Daphne has said. Even though nothing permanently damaging happened--”

“Except to Daphne’s reputation,” Anthony interjected.

“Yes. But I meant that she and I can announce our engagement, unless that gossip rag does first, but we must get married sooner rather than later.”

“And we’ll get you the license,” Benedict said. Then he grinned. “If Anthony won’t say it, I will. Welcome to the family.”

“I suppose you’re going to take my other duties as well?” Anthony asked his brother, a slightly teasing lilt in his voice. “Never mind. We’ll have to wait for Mama to be told, and I think if Daphne can convince the household she spent all evening in her bed, she can break it to her more easily. I hope she doesn’t stumble over the reasons for a rush.”

“You give Daphne far too little credit,” Simon said. “But I suppose there are worse families to be wed into.” He paused. “I suggest we all get a drink and some breakfast and start making plans.”

“I have something else to attend to,” Anthony said, appearing crestfallen. “But call at the house at noon and we’ll get everything ready for a rushed wedding.” Anthony turned and left, leaving the others in disbelief.

“I’ll take you up on a drink and breakfast,” Benedict said, clapping Simon on the shoulder, who in turn beckoned to Will. “You’re more than welcome to join us.”

“One drink, and then I go home to the wife,” he said. “And I can’t wait to tell her what a pea-brained idiot you were, Simon.”

“Love makes you do the strangest things,” Simon said, clapping Will on the shoulder. “I hope she enjoys my brush with misfortune.”

--

Daphne and Colin made it back just as the sun was rising high enough to wake the household. Daphne changed out of what she could to look as though she had been sleeping in bed all evening, and it was only seconds after she had pulled the duvet over her that her lady’s maid came in. She allowed herself to be dressed and stifled her yawns as much as she could before going downstairs to face her mother.

Many thoughts roiled about in her head. What would she say? How much should she tell? Would her mother judge for the rush in marriage? Did her mother prefer the Prince and would hold it against her? She doubted that would be the case, but Simon...she loved him. Even if he wouldn’t give her children, they could be happy together. She just wanted her mother’s approval so very much.

Violet came into the sitting room after her. “Oh, my head,” Violet said.

“Are you unwell?” Daphne asked, concern in her voice.

“Too much champagne,” she said. Her own ladies maid came with one of those vile concoctions that was supposedly a cure for too much drink, and she watched her mother make a face as she sipped at it. “Do you have any news?”

“I am engaged,” she said.

Violet’s eyes widened. “To the Prince?”

“To the Duke,” Daphne said. Violet’s eyes widened. “I love him, Mama. And he loves me. We want to marry as quickly as possible.”

“That’s most excellent news!” Violet said. Then she paused. “Your brother rushed you out from the garden. Did...something happen?” She set the concoction down. “Things like that...tend to, with people in love.”

Daphne wrung her hands for a moment and then began to pace. “We had an argument. Mama, he loves me, but he didn’t want to marry me at first. And then the argument rushed into a fit of passion and I let him take liberties, but Anthony found us, but not before we were seen by Cressida, and then Anthony challenged Simon to a duel and I was kept out of all the details until I cornered Colin and made him tell me and I was almost shot!” The shock and drama of the evening all came out in one long sentence and it felt so freeing to let her mama know the entire truth. “But...no one died, no one was hurt. Simon does love me and he’s agreed to marry me but Mama, he doesn’t want children.”

“Oh, Daphne,” Violet said, opening her arms to her daughter. Daphne moved into her embrace. “It sounds like the most eventful of evenings. I’ll have words with Anthony about the foolishness of a duel later, but for now, let’s do what we can. Your brother and Simon can only plan so much for a shortened engagement.”

“You’re not angry?” Daphne said, lifting her head up and looking at her mother.

“I’ll admit it’s disappointing to hear he doesn’t want children. Of all of mine, you were the one who wanted a big family the most. But even if your reputation wasn’t at stake, it’s clear you love each other. And...people change. Promises can be amended.” She kissed Daphne’s forehead gently. “Did you get any rest last night?”

“No,” Daphne said.

“Then go back and rest. I’ll have your breakfast brought to you in a few hours. And once you’ve eaten and rested a bit, we’ll start with some things that you’ll need to know before your wedding night, especially in the matters of...procreation, so you know what to avoid n order to help Simon keep his promise.”

“Thank you,” Daphne said gratefully. She pulled away from her mother and made her way back to her room, breathing easier. There were still things to be done and hurdles to be crossed, but she had her mother and Simon to rely on so she could relax a bit.

She hoped.