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midnightscramble · 2 months

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Hello, I was wondering if I could request a part two to the recent Portia x female reader. It's put together wonderfully. I've been looking for fanfics like this 😭✊

Sugar, Sugar Part 2 (Portia Featherington x fem!Reader)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

The Masterlist

Author’s Note: thanks you so much, I appreciate your kindness and am glad to be of service! I took a lot of liberties with this so if it is not what you want feel free to request something else (don’t be shy!). Happy readings to you.

Summary: Portia negotiates with Y/n, who is much more intuitive than she thought. A deal is struck between the baker and the Lady. Penelope follows her mother into town, and debates the contents of her next column.

Warnings: Anxiety, brief nail/skin picking, discussion of being widowed, no Beta read

Mornings at the Featherington estate were not to be described as anything but dreadful. Foul moods persisted in all the women and the men knew to take their breakfast separately. Portia sat with her daughters around a small table and they sipped their tea quietly. With squinted eyes they peered at each other over the rims of their cups.

Flatly, Portia began, "I will be going into town on business today. Penelope, Mrs. Varley will accompany you to the Cowper's garden party."

"I am not in need of a chaperone, and besides I am certain that I will not be welcome there, so I will not be attending."

Portia sighed and put her tea cup in it's dish, "Now is not the time to turn down invitations. Since Cousin Jack, or whomever he was, took off, the Ton has been especially gracious in not associating our good family name with his poor behavior. Let us not make light of their tolerance. You will go to the Cowper's party, that is final."

Penelope inhaled sharply, "Fine. If you would excuse me, I am going to take the rest of my breakfast in my room.” Portia scoffed and waved her hand towards the door, inviting Penelope to leave.

…

Once Portia’s carriage took off, Penelope began her covert exit. She had absolutely no intention of attending the Cowper's garden party. It served no purpose to her, as anyone that Cressida invited would surly be aware the unpleasantness between the two, and thus be tight lipped or quick to quip around her. She would rather spend her afternoon in town, lurking in shop corners and listening to other's converse.

...

Arriving at the bakery, Portia felt a chill run down her spine once the aroma hit her nose. Her stomach sank in anticipation, she could not let the comforting environment fool her, Miss Y/l/n was a business woman, and if she had made it this far then she was obviously cunning. Portia never liked cunning women, they saw through her too easily, identifying her as one of their own.

Y/n's head popped out from behind a shelf at the sound of the shop bell, "Ah, Lady Featherington, wonderful to see you again, how did you enjoy the sweets?" She smiled at the redheaded woman, whose sharp edges and dark dress looked completely out of place among the pastel deserts that surrounded her.

"I'm afraid my daughters and their husbands had gotten to them before I had a chance," She should have lied, said some sort of pleasant remark about the pastries, to butter the woman up. However, it seemed as though regardless of how many times she ran through the interaction in her head, she was unequipped in the moment. She took a deep breath and turned to examine a shelf of bagged goodies with faux interest.

The baker's smile faltered, feeling an odd dissatisfaction at Portia's statement. She pursed her lips to contain her feelings, "Well did your daughter's enjoy them?"

Portia turned back around, "Yes, they have sent me with a list of what they would like to order for the foreseeable future."

"Wonderful, let me go get my ledger and then we can discuss. Why don't you take a seat and I'll be back in a minute." Before the Lady could respond, Y/n had already moved to the backroom kitchen, leaving Portia on her own in the front of the shop. She took a seat at one of the tables and drummed her fingers on the surface. She looked out the windows, surveying the mostly empty part of town.

She was unable to inspect the view thoroughly, as Y/n came back out, with her ledger tucked under her arm, holding a tea cup in each hand, and balancing a plate with pastries on her forearm. If the baker had not interrupted her window gazing, she would have caught a glimpse of familiar red hair, dodging into an alley way to not be seen by her mother.

Placing the cups down, Y/n explained, "My apologies for the wait, I figured some hot chocolate would be appropriate. It's a French recipe I've been tampering with, do tell me if its too bitter?"

Portia smiled politely and took a sip. Surprised, she hummed in delight, "That is quite good, not bitter at all..." The baker smiled widely, and felt her cheeks warm at the genuine compliment. Portia put her cup down and moved her hands beneath the table, picking at the skin around her nails as she prepared herself to breach the next topic of conversation. Y/n pushed the plate of pastries between them, and grabbed one for herself to encourage the other woman to follow suit. Portia didn't take the bait.

Irked, Y/n was about to offer verbally, but Portia beat her to speaking, "Shall we discuss the payments for your fine sweets?"

She tossed her hands into the air in frustration, "How do you know my sweets are of fine quality if you have not tried them?" The other woman widened her eyes, this was not going the way she had anticipated, and the baker seemed to care little for conversational etiquette.

"I am not some pet. I cannot eat on command," Portia scoffed, "but if you must know I am not keen on sweets." Y/n narrowed her eyes, everyone was keen on sweets, and the lie was far too blatant given the way she eyed the pastries. Sucking on her teeth, she figured that this must be part of Portia's negotiation strategy. Y/n had never had a stingy client, hesitant one's sure, but never frugal. They did not negotiate, in fact, they threw extra money at her to express their satisfaction once they realized her talent for baking. In this regard, Portia was unlike other members of the Ton.

"Well that is because you have not tried mine." The baker smiled cockily, her eyes holding an intensity that made Portia stutter her response, "I- That is quite the claim, Miss Y/n."

Y/n leaned back in her chair with raised eyebrows. Portia's cagey behavior somewhat reminded her of herself after her husband had passed, a time where she could barely make ends meet. It clicked with her in an instance, the Featheringtons must be experiencing financial troubles.

She hummed, "Well, then allow me to make a proposition." Y/n leaned forward and put her elbows on the table and clasped her hands together, "Every evening you shall meet here with me for an hour and I will tempt you with desserts. For as long as you can withstand, you will not have to pay for your orders."

Portia pressed her lips together, trying not to seem too eager for the deal, "That sounds fair, are those the only conditions?"

Without breaking their gaze, Y/n moved her head to the side in suspicion, "If I hear that while at some social gathering you partook in dessert, then the agreement is off."

"Deal." The baker inhaled and her eyes darkened slightly, something deep inside of her, something nasty and possessive, was all too pleased with this turn of events. Portia was her client, and her client alone. Only her sweets would grace those plump ruby lips- She sat back to try and clear her head.

"Now, what would you like to include in your order?"

...

Penelope watched the interaction of the two women, noting her mother's odd behavior. Portia seemed to teeter between being relaxed by the other woman's presence to flummoxed by it. In her pocket sized notebook, she made note of the strangeness.

...

Evening struck, and as agreed upon, Portia made her way back into town. She made a flimsy excuse to her children about turning in early and made a swift departure. Unconvinced, Penelope followed after her.

Although she knew this was purely business related, she could not stop the way her heart pounded in her chest. It was scandalous to be out this late, on her own, still dressed in dinner attire. However she was undeniably excited to see the baker. She had prepared topics of conversation ahead of time, knowing that a lapse in silence would goad her into eating.

Illuminated by candles strewn here and there, the bakery's ambiance felt particularly hypnotic, lulling Portia into the safety of it's warmth. A table in the center of the seating area was dressed with cutlery and a platter in the middle, covered by a silver cloche. Coming from the kitchen with two cups in hand, Y/n smiled at Portia. She knew that there was not a treat in the world that would tempt Portia on the first night of their deal, so she elected for baking a simple passion fruit cake, decorated with whipped cream and drizzled jam atop.

"Take a seat Lady Featherington," She placed, what Portia noticed to be, two cups of coffee on the table. An odd choice given the drinks well known abilities of appetite suppression.

The woman sat across from each other and Y/n uncovered the dessert. Portia narrowed her eyes and sniffed, "While it does have a delicious appearance, it does not tempt me."

Y/n hid her smirk behind her cup before taking a long sip, "I will keep that in mind when planning for tomorrow's temptation."

Portia nodded and began her scripted questioning, "How did you learn to bake?"

The two women engaged in conversation easily, sharing light hearted details of their upbringings and current lives. Portia had to abandon her planned topics, as Y/n seemed more interested in hearing her talk, asking her questions. The intense attention of the baker made her flush. In all her life, no one had listened to her speak with such devotion to detail and scrutiny of exaggerations. Upon multiple instances, Portia found herself having to change routes as Y/n identified her lies and gave her a pointed look, alerting her that she had been caught.

The hour expired and Portia gathered herself as Y/n bid her a goodnight, "I will see you tomorrow."

"You shall."

...

Portia was smiling as she got ready for bed, remembering the way Y/n threw her head back when she laughed. The memory proved contagious as she found herself chuckling softly.

A knock sounded at the door and Portia's smiled dropped as she was brought back to reality, "Come in."

Phillipa entered her room slowly, smiling brightly, "MaMa, I think I have done it..."

Portia lost her breath for a moment, "Do you mean to tell me- its quite early, how can you be sure?"

"A woman knows when she's with child," Phillipa airily responded while shrugging her shoulders. She rushed forward to hug her daughter.

"Oh, Phillipa, I am so proud of you," She cradled her face in her palms and gazed at her hopefully. "You must get plenty of rest, and pray for a boy." Phillipa skipped out of the room and started giggly, leaving Portia to assume that Mister Finch had been waiting outside the room for her.

As she tucked herself into bed she realized that she no longer needed the services of the baker. In truth, she did not want their meetings to cease. She began to reason with herself; it would be good to keep the house filled with sweets, in case guests arrived at calling hour, she did have one single daughter after all.

Settled, she allowed herself to fall asleep, thinking of tomorrow's meeting.

...

When said meeting arrived, Portia had elected for a simpler gown, feeling like she did not have to put on a show for her new friend. It was a deep purple piece that had loose sleeves, the material heavy enough to keep her warm and light enough to not constrict her movements.

The tables had moved since their last meeting, with chairs stacked upon all but one, an obvious sign of the store having been closed. Adorned with a table cloth and two sets of plates, the baker had set up a table by the window. Y/n emerged from the back, handing Portia her tea cup directly, and motioning for her to follow to the table. The red head followed quickly, smiling at the familiarity. It was only the closest of confidants who could greet her wordlessly.

"I present to you..." Y/n picked up the cloche, "chocolate chip cookies." She could tell the Lady was underwhelmed and was incredibly pleased with the outcome.

The two women sat across from each other, both playing their own game, with the same goal of extending their meetings.

"They do not tempt me, I suppose we shall just have to fill the rest of the hour with conversation." Portia pursed her lips innocently.

"Wonderful, I had a topic in mind," Portia tilted her head curiously, "What was your husband like?"

Portia stuttered, "I well, I got married my first year out, the Featherington family was quite respectable. He was charming enough and titled, there was not much more I could ask for."

Y/n hummed and sipped her tea, "Did you not care much for a love match?"

Taking a moment to think about it, Portia let her eyes wonder around the room, "I was raised without the expectation of one. It seemed to be an extra expense that only fools could afford," she took a breath, "did you love your husband?" For an unidentifiable reason, Portia felt her chest pinch while she waited for the response.

The baker looked down at the table, allowing a small smile to grace her lips, "In a way, I did. He was my dearest friend, but we discovered our incompatibility as husband and wife after we had gotten married."

Confused, Portia pressed, "Incompatibility? As in you argued frequently?"

Scrunching her nose, Y/n shook her head and hesitated to respond, "Incompatible in regards to how a man and woman couple..."

Picking up on the implication, she nodded in agreement, "I completely understand. My husband and I were similar, although it did result in the births of my three daughters, and I would suffer it again in a heartbeat to obtain them. Do you have children?"

"No, there was a singular attempt on the wedding night and then we ceased trying, we came to an agreement of sorts."

Portia could not withhold her gasp, "You only tried once?"

The baker laughed, "With him, yes." Portia blanched and let a laugh escape her out of surprise. It seemed her baker never ceased to scandalize her.

"Do not be confused though. It was a part of our agreement, to free each other, and have relations independent of our marriage. My husband was very compassionate and tolerant, I was very lucky to have found him." With a sudden change of thought, Y/n cocked her head at Portia, "Did you ever take on a partner aside from your husband?"

The red head laughed, "No, there was one man who almost charmed me. He used my desperation for respect and security against me, it was a very confusing, vulnerable time for my family. My affection for him turned out to be nothing more than chasing the feelings he imparted on me, not for the man himself." Cousin Jack had been an ugly reminder of her inability to connect with men.

Y/n nodded deeply, "When I first met my husband, his attention felt like basking in the sun. I learned quickly that same feeling could be found in anyone showing me attention, it just so happened that he had been the first."

"Perhaps someone should write a book, to help guide young ladies through courtship," Portia offered and they both laughed.

"I'm sure if we put our minds together, we could cover it all," Y/n joked.

They spent the rest of the evening laughing back and forth, discussing hypothetical chapters of their romantic guide.

"And I can write the final chapter," Y/n put her hands in the air and slowly spread them as if the title would appear "how to find a lover you actually like," Portia laughed indecently at that and felt he cheeks turn red at the thought. She wondered distantly who the baker invited into her bed, but could not bring herself to imagine Y/n being touched by a man.

Portia wanted to know more, desperately so, however the distant sound of the towns bell tower reminded the women that the hour had ceased. Her questions would have to wait until tomorrow.

...

Penelope watched from a distance as her mother stood from the table. She signaled her carriage to come to her, as to arrive home before her Portia did.

The young woman would continue to track her mother's evening movements until she could identify the reason for them. If this were a simple friendship, the baker could surely visit the Featherington estate during calling hour, and thus its complicated nature was revealed.

She knew it was high time to include her family in the Lady Whistledown column again, it was the only way to avoid suspicion from the Queen. With her sisters behaving themselves, relatively, the burden of being the subject of gossip would have to fall to her mother. However, Lady Whistledown had a reputation for correctness, delivering the truth with accuracy and totality. Penelope would not be able to publish until she discovered exactly why her mother was making nightly visits to the town's favorite baker.

#bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #portia featherington x y/n #portia featherington x you #portia featherington x fem!reader #portia featherington x reader #portia featherington

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maefansblog · 3 months

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What is Happening with the Featheringtons?

If you want a loose summary of events before you watch Season 3, here you go.

TLDR:

Season 1 Lord Featherington gambled, lost all of the girls' dowries, and died.

Season 2 Lord Jack Featherington tried to scam the ton with ruby mines and got caught. He leaves to America.

Portia took some of the money and forged a document to say that if one of her daughters has a son, he becomes the new Lord.

Forgive me if I miss things. This is all off the top of my head. I haven't added too much of Penelope or Lady Whistledown-just the important parts that relate to the Featheringtons. After Season 1, Marina doesn't count as Featherington to me. 🤷‍♀️

Season 1

Portia ended up having to debut all 3 of her daughters in the same season.

Lord Featherington was in debt, so he took in his brother's daughter/ward, Marina Thompson.

Marina has a bunch of suitors (including Colin), but isn't interested in any of them because she is writing letters to George.

Albion Finch arrives and wants to court Philippa.

Portia finds out Marina is pregnant and Marina says the Featheringtons are so out of touch with the real world. Portia slaps Marina and forces her to stay in the house. Marina keeps a look out for George’s letters.

When back in society, Portia arranges Marina to court/dance with Lord Rutledge. Colin rescues Marina from having to dance with Marina.

Philippa and Albion dance.

Lord Featherington tells Albion he cannot marry. (We know because he has gambled away his daughters' dowries) Philippa is heartbroken.

Portia brings Marina downtown to show her what life will be like if she does not wed. Marina is adamant that George loves her. Portia and Varley forge a letter from George to tell Marina that he forsakes her and their child. Marina is heartbroken.

Colin continues to court Marina. Penelope tells Portia that Colin is too young to marry. Portia tells Marina that she will have to marry Lord Rutledge. Marina makes the plan to seduce Colin.

At Daphne's wedding, Penelope tries to stop Marina. Saying anyone but him. Marina shrugs her off and brings Colin to a room alone. She tries to kiss him, but Colin says he's a gentleman. She guilts him and he proposes. After a few days after the wedding, Colin announces to the ton that Marina and him are engaged.

At the modiste, Madame Delacroix doesn't want to sell any more dresses to Lady Featherington because she is out of funds (because of Lord Featherington). Marina knows that Madame Delacroix is not French. Marina basically says she is marrying into an affluent family and could make her life hell.

There's a boxing match that happens and Lord Featherington is gambling and losing a lot of money.

He talks to Mondrich about fixing a match so they both can be rich.

At Marina and Colin's engagement dinner, Penelope tries to tell Colin that Marina is in love with Sir George, but Colin is adamant that he and Marina have deeper feelings than anyone before. Penelope tries to tell more when Marina interrupts. Penelope leaves the room. Marina tells Colin everyone hates her, her family, the Featheringtons, and even his family. Marina says that she loves him. Colin doesn't say that, but he suggests that they elope to Gretna Green.

Later, Pen tries to stop Marina by saying the letters from George were forged. But Marina says it doesn't matter. George has forsaken her. Her new life is with Colin. Even if he were to find out, he would protect her and not run away. Pen objects. Marina says, "You love him... your love is an unrequited fantasy."

Pen publishes the Lady Whistledown column and cries to Eloise.

The Featherington name is in shatters. They can't go to social gatherings. They are given the cut direct.

Daphne goes to the Lady Danbury's den of iniquity to find out about Sir George Crane. Daphne writes to him. Daphne tells Marina this, but Marina has no hope.

Colin arranges for Daphne to talk to Marina. Marina says that she holds him in great esteem. Colin becomes upset because she lied about being in love with him. Colin says that if she would have told him the truth he would have married her.

Sir Philip Crane arrives and delivers Marina the letter from Sir George Crane. He never forsook her. He was going to marry her and take care of their child(ren), but he was killed on the battlefield. Sir Phillip Crane proposes to Marina out of family duty. She turns him down and says she does not know or love this man.

Marina tries to have an abortion. Penelope finds her. 😭 Marina thinks she no longer has a child.

Mondrich fixes the boxing match and Lord Featherington (who put his daughters' dowry and his house's deed on the match) wins all that money.

Marina finds out that she is still pregnant so she finally accepts Sir Philip's hand in marriage.

Daphne invites the Featheringtons to her ball so they will stop being ostracized from Society.

Albion Finch still wants to be with Philippa at the ball. They continue courting.

Lord Featherington goes to the gentleman's club/brothel and is killed for fixing the boxing match.

When the Featheringtons arrive home, they find out the head of the house is dead. Lady Featherington finds out that all of the girls' dowry and money are gone.

Season 2

Lady Featherington is upset that they have no male to protect her or her daughters. The house could go to the new Lord. They let go servants, are eating very little and don't have money for dresses.

Albion and Philippa are engaged and waiting for her dowry. Which is not there, but Philippa does not know that.

The New Lord Jack Featherington comes in. He says that everything is taken care of. He has money for the dowries, dresses, and to thrive in society.

Albion Finch and Philippa are married.

Portia is thrilled but worried that if she and her girls are not taken care of, she will lose the house and everything.

"Cousin Jack" starts a courtship with Cressida Cowper. He is also selling his ruby necklaces with the ton.

Portia does not like this. She plans to have Prudence "seduce" Cousin Jack in order that everything stays in the family.

During a ball, Portia has Cousin Jack "meet Lord Fife on the orangery " while later she tells Prudence to go there as well. Portia, Lady Cowper, Lord Fife, Penelope and others catch Jack and Prudence scandalously alone with no other recourse but to marry.

Cousin Jack scolds Portia. His scheme to marry Cressida is off the table. He never had any money. The Cowpers had money. So now they need a new scheme. Portia asks about the rubies. Jack knows they are fake, but Portia is able to fool a jewel inspector. They make a plan to have the ton invest in the gemstones in America. She only says not to include the Bridgertons because they are smart, have connections and are affluent in Society.

After Anthony's failed nuptials, Portia gives Jack the okay to talk to the Bridgertons.

Colin starts taking an interest in Penelope’s Ruby Necklace. He wants to become an investor to find some purpose in his life. Colin defends the Featheringtons at Mondrich's when Will Mondrich to tell him that Jack is sketchy.

Jack tries to seduce Portia. He is still engaged to Prudence.

The Featheringtons have a Ball to show they have standing in Society.

Colin dances with Cressida and takes off her ruby necklace. He takes Penelope into a separate room, ALONE. He tells Pen that there are no gemstones in America. Jack and Portia come in. Colin yells at Jack about trying to fraud the Featherington ladies with no father or husband to protect them. Colin tells Jack to leave the ton and exits the room. Penelope follows after.

Colin drinks. Colin and Penelope dance. He was practicing that speech the entire day. Penelope says Colin is astonishing and Colin says that Pen is special to him. That he will always protect her.

Jack tries to take Portia away to America with him. She says that she is a mother. She can't abandoned her daughters. She took some of the money. She and Varley forged a document saying whichever one of her daughters bares a son will be the heir to the Featherington name. Jack is flustered saying she won't get away with it. She retorts that she is a woman, who would believe that such a cunning scheme would come from her. He is going to be alone. Jack says something cruel and Portia says "No, I am a MOTHER!!"

(You go Portia!!)

Eloise finds out Penelope is Lady Whistledown, Colin drunkenly says he "would never court Penelope Featherington, not in your wildest Fantasies Fife."

Jack Leaves. Of course Prudence has a broken engagement and Penelope has a broken heart.

Then we go into Season 3... where Harry Dankworth and Prudence have been married in the off-season.

And that is what you missed from the Featheringtons!

Thanks for reading all of this!! You are awesome! 💕

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anastasiareadsnwrites · 3 months

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Oil & Water

Dear gentlest readers,

One's hands do seem to be tied as there are rumors going about the Ton as said The Duke Luciano has been seen visiting a widows household. They must be old friends. Or lovers one would say. Beguiling of a smile and charm one may have on another but there is always another smile waiting in the dark of the Ton. Talking about smiles, Lord Worthege seems to have secured a math with Lady Smith. Soon to have their wedding, but one lacks a dowry. What ever shall they do? An ego can never be as big as Lord Worthege's family.

Yours Truly,

Penelope Bridgerton

"Your hand in marriage would have the Ton talking." A guy said as Portia stood her ground in her personal quarters. "And I have a visitor coming this evening." The lady growled as she exited the room causing the other person to follow her.

"Come on Portia. Our marriage will have the Ton talking. You do like the attention, right?" The guy asked Portia and he wasn't wrong she liked having some attention drawn to her. But she will never marry a man out of eagerness when all the other person wants is another scheme. What was his scheme anyways?

"Ma'am you have a visitor waiting in the drawing room." Varley approached the two that were bickering in the hallway. Portia rushed into the drawing room and sighed trying to close the door behind her but the tall fellow pushed it open from her.

"Portia I swear I will do everything in my power to have you marry me."

"Enough! Jack" Portia lowered her voice as she realized she raised it.

"Excuse me? Am I interrupting something?" Those striking green eyes came into view causing Jack to look at him in surprise. "No absolutely not, your Grace." Portia said a little too quickly.

"No your grace." Jack said as he bowed in acknowledgement. "I was merely asking for Portia's hand in marriage." He chuckled trying to play it off.

"Forcefully." The Duke said giving Jack a small glare. "Now you wouldn't want to do that since I am already courting her." Luciano said fixing his tie and gave both of them a smirk. "W-we ne-" Portia said before getting the hint of his reason to say that. "Y-yes we are." Portia faked a smile just as Luciano pulled her toward him and he grabbed her waist causing her to shiver.

Just as that happened, one of the servants came in and announced more visitors. Which to Portia's disappointment it was none other than members of the Ton. Since when did they all want to come here. No less when two men are basically dueling each other with their eyes.

"When is the wedding?" One of the ladies said as she walked closer causing much panic to Portia. "I-I" Portia couldn't say anything obviously speechless.

"Within the next month." Luciano took the liberty into his own hands. Portia looked at him quickly with wide eyes. They very much had much much more to talk about then just the small conversation now.

"Excellent!" A man from the group said leaving Jack speechless with words. He ran his fingers through his wavy short blonde hair and chuckled. "I assure you this must be an act." He said looking between Portia and Luciano. "And didn't you need to return something of the Ton?" They all looked at him now. Barely noticing him before but assure now they were all glaring at him not forgetting his scheme and how he ran off with all the money some of the Ton members had given to him for investments.

With a growl he was about to walk up to the fake couple. "I believe you should leave." Another voice from the doorway caught everyone's attention. Penelope stood there, her baby in hand, and Colin glaring at the older man. "I believe everyone needs to leave to have the new couple to prepare things for their wedding." Colin said as a light squeeze came from Penelope as she looked at him in wonder.

Portia closed her eyes as she heard everyone rush out from the room. Leaving Luciano, Portia, Colin, Penelope, and the baby in the drawing room. Portia opened her eyes and took a deep breath almost collapsing against the couch.

"Mama?" Penelope asked her mother worried everything must've took a toll on her. "I am alright Penelope." Her mother sighed as she straightened herself. "Thank you I suppose." Portia looked at everyone in the room. She reached out for the baby and smiled as her silent request was fulfilled. The baby cooed in her arms and tried grabbing at the small details on Portia's dress causing her to chuckle.

"My lady" Luciano started. "I suppose they want to see an actual wedding take place? Correct?" He asked as he looked at Penelope with grinned and knowing look from Colin. "Of course. After all you did say that the wedding is going to take place within the next month. " Colin said.

"The Ton would be eager to hear how you two ended up together? After all you both hardly had interactions with each other." Penelope nodded. "Right?" Penelope looked at her mother who was paying attention to the small one in her lap. "We did have an interaction at the ball and then yesterday morning." Portia looked away.

"Oh gosh." Penelope groaned. "I mean you know about it since it was in the paper this morning" Portia slightly scolded her daughter. "And it isn't that kind of interaction you are thinking of." Portia said slightly close to a whisper.

With a breath of relief Penelope looked at her husband who chuckled.

"Wait. Within the next month? We don't have time to even come up with a story." Penelope said as she used her fingers to count. "We have about thirty days in total to even think of things." Colin grabbed his wife's hands and held them.

"Meaning we HAVE to get married." Portia glared at Luciano who was sitting on the opposite side of the couch. "How dare you." She started. "You could've said anything else but you just had to say that?!" She scolded the man who smirked at her. Penelope and Colin obviously smiling at the two bickering. They must've been old lovers. Penelope gave Colin a well known smile as the two went on and on.

"Well you wouldn't find it that bad if you were to stay with me away from everything." Luciano said as he sat right beside Portia.

"And how did that work out for your first wife?" Portia shot back looking away.

With wide eyes Luciano looked at Portia.

"You are cruel!" Luciano said as he stood up quickly. "I'm here trying to gain your love back and this is how I am repaid? from saving you from marrying another that is obvious in just using your body and intelligent mind?" Luciano. "I thought you were clever than that." He glared at the woman on the couch who had wide eyes and fuming expression on her face. She handed back her grandson to Colin and got into Luciano's face.

Penelope and Colin could only watch as the two bickered and bickered making it awkward for the pair. "Uhm Mama it seems like you guys have some things to sort….out." Penelope said as she slowly ushered her husband out with the baby following soon after and closing the door to the drawing room.

Penelope and Colin both looked at each other and started laughing. "They seem to have some unsolved tension." Colin said after he stopped laughing. Penelope wiped a tear that escaped her eye from laughing too hard. "Apparently some unsolved sexual tension." She said as she grabbed her son from her husband. Colin never could've found anyone better than his dear best friend Penelope.

"How dare you think I am such a-a rag-doll to just follow orders. It is clear that you never loved someone once." Portia glared at the man in front of her. "I think there's been some confusion. I am not the one in trouble here." Luciano said as he held Portia's face in his hand.

Portia felt like her heart leaped out of her chest. Regaining her stance she looked away and back away from the man.

"I could help you with everything." Luciano said he looked at Portia with longing eyes.

"I have always loved you."

#fanfic #portia featherington #portia x oc #revenge/romance #wattpad #book #bridgerton #colin x penelope #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #jack featherington #Scheme #Chapter 4: The Elegance of Eternal Love

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hldailyupdate · 6 months

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Louis followed Jack Varley, Phoebe’s boyfriend, on Instagram. (7 April 2024)

#louis tomlinson #louis update #louis follow #instagram #april 2024

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forasecondtherewedwon · 4 months

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The Ladies Whistledown - chapter four

Pairing: Eloise Bridgerton x Penelope Featherington Rating: T Chapter: 4 / ? Word Count: 2322

read on tumblr: one | two | three

To witness the formerly affianced Prudence find herself suddenly without a fiancé was akin, Penelope guessed, to watching a confused bird. Like a bird, Prudence was adorned in her typical bright, mama-approved plumage, but she darted and strutted and skittered about the house, squawking out inane questions and comments in such a way that made it exceedingly difficult for Penelope to read the novel her turbulent thoughts were already making it challenging to concentrate on.

Seat yourself and be still, Penelope wanted to tell her, but nobody ever listened to Penelope, and so she herself sat quietly, and was still. Only her eyes tracked Prudence’s bobbing, swivelling head. The poor bird whose mate had flown away in the night. Part of Penelope did feel for her sister; she felt it must have been a terrible thing to believe oneself prized only to be left without a single word of explanation or comfort. Their mama had many words for Prudence, but none were the right ones. Penelope doubted any of them were even true. For herself, she believed, in such a circumstance, she would have preferred the truth over a well-meaning coddling. The truth was more soothing in the end.

It had not been love, and Penelope was certain Prudence would cease her restless movements when she remembered that. Cousin Jack had not loved her—possibly would never have loved her—and so it was better that Prudence escape a bad match to preserve the possibility of being loved in the future. To be loved, completely and for oneself exactly as one was… well, Penelope cherished a belief that this was possible. She believed it despite watching young women lose hope after too many seasons out, despite overhearing men discuss them as the means to producing heirs and appeasing their mamas, despite matches of convenience being the rule rather than the exception. Being Lady Whistledown, placing herself in such a position, ought to have made Penelope, if anything, a cynic. And yet hope flourished within her, a nest cradling the heart that believed love was real.

In the wider nest of their home, Prudence collapsed onto the chaise with all the grace of a fledgling’s first descent. Penelope could feel her sister staring at her. When she flicked her gaze from the unread page of her book to meet her eye, Prudence let her mouth sag into a pout.

“Mama has sent Varley to the Modiste to cancel everything ordered for my trousseau.”

“Well,” Penelope said slowly, trying to be patient, “you are no longer getting married.”

“That should not matter! I should still have found occasion to wear the dresses.” Prudence sunk further into the chaise as she sulked.

“With the money saved, I am sure we will both have more new dresses at the start of the next season, when mama will select whatever will be… most fashionable.” She would, Penelope supposed, when it came to things like the shape of the sleeve or the placement of an embellishment, but Penelope would have bet the Queen’s jewels that her particular gowns would still be yellow.

“I suppose…” Prudence tentatively allowed. Then she sighed. “I despise saving money.”

Penelope could not help the volume of her laugh, but she lifted a hand to her mouth to aid in shortening its duration. Her sister scowled at her reaction.

“It is dreadful!” Prudence said defensively. “I hate the word ‘frugal’ more than any other! I should never have liked to be called a ‘frugal wife’—it sounds horrid.”

“You must congratulate yourself, then,” Penelope rejoined (rather flippantly), “on escaping both parts of the title.”

Prudence scoffed and planted her hands on the cushion to shove herself upright. This was a tactic with which Penelope had become accustomed in childhood; her sisters had often used height as a substitute for being correct. They had made themselves big and spoken down to her. Once Penelope had understood how this worked, she had stopped finding it intimidating. She gave her sister a bland look.

“At least I have been engaged!” Prudence announced haughtily.

“And you haven’t so much as a trousseau to show for it,” Penelope muttered.

Prudence had heard, but her habitual, quotidian quarrel with her sister lived a short life in the shadow of her broken engagement.

“Cousin Jack should’ve paid for it before he ran off.”

“He clearly is not any better with money that you would have been as his wife,” Penelope pointed out. She then condescended to translate, “You would not have been in fine dresses long once you had married him.”

“Hmm.” Prudence considered this and played with her bottom lip. “I wish I had my own money with which to practice.”

Penelope could not think of a response right away as this was a surprisingly reasonable wish from her sister. She certainly would not be volunteering her own hidden funds so that Prudence might learn restraint while purchasing glittering hair accessories, but she was proud of her sister’s self-knowledge and clarity of thought. It made Penelope feel suddenly warm towards her. She reached out a hand to cover Prudence’s on the cushion.

Prudence snatched her hand away, making a face.

“Do not touch me! You will make my hands smell of books!”

Before Penelope could question this baffling criticism, Prudence flung herself upright and left the room.

Surreptitiously, Penelope raised her hand, touching the back of her fingers to the underside of her nose. She inhaled. She frowned. Was there a trace? If there were, she could comprehend how Prudence would attribute it to the novels which were her constant companion while at home and observed. More likely though, Penelope believed the scent of paper and ink emanated from her nightly writings, her fingering of pages, a stray drop from her quill, besides anything she might have touched at the printer’s, or even on an errand like buying a replacement letter for the press. If these scents clung to her still—though she had not been to Chancery Lane, though waiting on Eloise stayed her hand—it made Penelope wonder whether they would ever leave. Perhaps, she thought, writing became her so well that it had become her, something others could smell on her skin. Something that could be contracted, like an illness.

Penelope sat with downcast eyes. Surely not an illness. Yes, she had written words that had done harm, but to think them an illness meant she was the one who was ill, not the ton. Was this what Eloise thought? That Penelope was undergoing some sort of moral sickening? That the time to save her had passed, and so she must simply be given up as lost?

She would not be easy until she and Eloise had spoken again. If Eloise allowed it. If she came, since Penelope found even the thought of crossing the road again unless invited entirely impossible.

Until then, she had other people’s words, printed on other printers’ paper in long-dried ink. And she had Prudence. As trying as that sometimes was.

She did not know whether life would have been more tolerable had Cousin Jack whisked Prudence away to America, but Penelope was relieved that the household’s proper hierarchy had been reestablished by his exit. Her mama was back at the helm—or, rather, fluffing her feathers atop the nest—and at least that was predictable. With their family the object of the ton’s sympathy after the departure of their scheming relation, Penelope supposed she would look back a year hence to see that the Featherington Ball had marked their return into good society’s good graces. So, no doubt, her mama would invite people to dine, and receive, in turn, invitations for them to dine out. She would smilingly repair frayed connections and, robust with charm and cunning, suss out which other mamas’ sons may be surrendering themselves to parental pressure and entering the marriage mart next year.

Penelope did wonder, after the turbulent start to the season just gone, how they were to attempt to pay for it all, all over again. Their supposed saviour of a cousin had only playacted wealth, but without him, they had less than a façade. And yet she watched her mama—watched her sweep in and out of the drawing room with a command for Penelope to put that book away swiftly smoothed over with a smile, watched her lead Varley into the office that had been her papa’s, then Cousin Jack’s, watched her order a good dinner—and knew there was something she had missed, some information that had not been revealed to her. She did not expect it ever would be intentionally, so Penelope kept her eyes open all day and all through their evening meal, and tried to see what had made her mama suddenly so comfortable about their finances.

Their finances, Penelope well knew, were something she was not meant to give the slightest thought to. As an unmarried young lady, her purview was restricted to ways of getting her dance card filled and practicing the embroidery of flowers on scraps of silk. She felt she was practically meant to be bored, for if she was bored, she was safe. Things like finances would come later, after marriage, and they were not to be understood or controlled, merely accepted as another field upon which she, as a wife, would be expected to concede to her husband. This had not bothered Penelope. It had not bothered her until she had begun to notice her papa’s dejection, the strain between he and her mama, the shop credit that went on and on and on until it did not.

She had made her own money, and that had been the reason; and yet, the more confidently she relied upon herself, the further she found herself to be from those she wished to make comfortable. It was not that Penelope wished to pay—it was the stability such a possibility represented. She could be counted upon. She could be trusted. When Eloise had discovered her and criticized and railed, she had left Penelope’s money where she had found it. Penelope had almost craved its removal for the mercenary colours in which it painted her. All the words she had written, all the ways in which she had tried to protect herself, her family, her Eloise, and Eloise had seen the money and decided it was all so simple. So very, pitiably simple.

This pity, combined with the accusation that Penelope had done all that she had done for money, had driven Penelope to her quill and paper. She would never have believed Eloise capable of looking down her nose at her the way she had. They had thought the worst of each other then. Eloise was prosperous and privileged, raised up and away from the scene before she had even left Penelope’s bedchamber. Penelope was the grasping Featherington, forever dancing on the edge of ruin in shoes that could not be paid for. She could only hope, now, at a distance of a day and a street, that Eloise saw more. That money was her freedom, that it was a byproduct of using her voice, not payment to silence it.

But what good was a voice when the one you most wanted to hear you refused to listen?

Penelope went to bed that night and rose the next morning. She did it again… and again, and in between, she sat by the drawing room window and looked for the fluttering pastels of Bridgertons coming or going.

Finally, four days after she had left the pages with Eloise, Penelope heard news of their neighbours. There was to be a wedding. Her mama had heard of it from Lady Cowper at tea. (Lady Cowper was carefully realigning her position after the Queen had overheard her cutting speculations on the perimeter of the Featherington’s dance floor; the Featheringtons were considered currently in favour as the ball had been such a success.) Lady Cowper had it from her housekeeper, who had it from one of their maids, who had it from one of the Bridgertons’ maids, and it was as good as confirmed, the invitations as good as sent. Anthony Bridgerton would wed Kathani Sharma. The Viscount’s proposal was alleged to have taken place at their ball, beneath their very noses. When their mama informed them, Prudence’s shoulders sunk and she pouted, deeming it unfair that another engagement should be formed the very night hers had been broken.

What struck Penelope as unfair was the fact that her work as Lady Whistledown was suspended in limbo just as this opportunity to break the news of an exciting—nearly scandalous—engagement to the larger ton was dropped in her lap. Not that she would have portrayed it as a scandalous happening. She did not wish to injure Anthony or Kate or Edwina or Eloise. It was merely news, substantial news, and news was her trade. It was difficult for Penelope to do nothing, to say nothing. She knew that when word of the engagement spread without her, readers would look for Whistledown’s comment on the matter. They would feel a veritable itch in their fingers to flip open the pamphlet and cast their eyes over their gossipmonger’s spirited remarks. In many ways, she had been teaching them what to think, how to feel, for which questions they still ought to hunger for answers. They wished to be on the right side of public opinion, to think what it was popular to think, to not get it wrong. What Penelope wished was to not be forgotten. With her creation, she had not only expressed public opinion, she had dictated it. She had been it. Now, she was a girl who sat alone all day in a drawing room.

Thankfully, terrifyingly, on that fourth day, a visitor was announced, and Penelope rose as though for royalty when Eloise walked into the room.

#my writing #The Ladies Whistledown #Bridgerton #peneloise #Penelope Featherington #Eloise Bridgerton #Prudence Featherington #Penelope x Eloise #Bridgerton fic #peneloise fic

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