Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was no secret that Kate Bridgerton knew how to throw a party.

Bridgerton House was awash in twinkling lights and fragrant bouquets of roses and tulips. Guests mingled throughout the ballroom, talking, and laughing as they caught up on the latest news and life happenings. The Viscount and Viscountess spared no expense to celebrate the Bridgerton’s matriarch’s 60^th birthday.  Everyone and anyone who had some interaction with the Dowager Viscountess had been invited to wish Violet Bridgerton Anderson a happy birthday.

Colin was sitting at the bar, nursing his third – or was it his fourth? – bourbon. From the corner of his eye he caught Daphne headed his way, but he didn’t turn to welcome her or acknowledge her presence. He just tipped his glass up and took a sip.

“What. Are. You. Doing?” Daphne was nothing if not discreet, so there was a polite smile on her face, but her words came through gritted teeth. “You’ve been sitting here alone all night. You’re supposed to be working the room, Colin.”

Colin scoffed and took another sip. “Deal’s basically signed, Daphne. You don’t need me anymore.”  

Daphne’s smile slipped slightly. “Colin, you know Lady Danbury is insisting on a united front and you sitting at the bar all night drinking your sorrows away isn’t giving ‘all in’ vibes." She sighed and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Penelope –“

He cut her off. “Do not say her name.” He wrenched himself away from her and stood, swaying only slightly.

Daphne stepped back and the smile was replaced by a worried frown.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m fine.” Colin finished his bourbon, then set the glass down on the marble top bar with a clink.

“Maybe you should head upstairs and get some rest,” Daphne murmured. She looked around the room, trying to find her husband. “I’ll get Simon to walk you up.”

Colin shrugged off the hand she had placed on his forearm. “I’m fine. I’m going home.” He pulled it together enough to walk across the ballroom without stumbling, waving a hand at Gregory and Eloise as they tried to stop him. He could feel the glare coming off Anthony as he passed him and Kate, talking to one of Danbury’s board members, but he ignored it.

Humbolt was standing by the front door speaking to one of the valets that had been hired for the event when he saw Colin heading his way. Stepping away from the man he was speaking to, he met Colin halfway across the foyer. “Mr. Bridgerton, let me get you an Uber.” Colin nodded and leaned up against closest wall.

His mind was spinning with the bourbon, but also thoughts of…her.

He was angry. He knew that most of it was his fault; he could recognize that much at least. But it didn’t change the fact that she broke his heart.

Or are you overreacting, like a total jerk? The voice in his head was snarky tonight.

He sighed and wondered where Humbolt was with his damn Uber. He needed to go home, clear his mind and deal with all of this tomorrow. He also wouldn’t put it past Anthony to step out of the ballroom to see where he took off to and Colin wanted to be well on his way before his brother realized he had left the party.

He smelled her before he saw her. She walked out of the powder room to his right, rubbing her hands together, as if she had taken advantage of the hand lotion he knew his mother kept on the counter.

They both froze as their eyes met. It took merely seconds from her face to transform from happy to cold and unfeeling. Penelope recovered quickly and moved toward the ballroom and away from Colin.

“Pen.” The pain, the uncertainty, and a little anger came out in his voice. He grabbed for her wrist, but his aim was off enough that his fingers just grazed her skin. She whirled around.

“Don’t touch me,” she hissed. Her ice blue eyes froze him where he stood, his hand still reaching out to her.

“That’s not what you said the other night.” The words were out of his mouth before he realized what he was going to say, before he could even think about the fire he was playing with.

Her chin went up. “Fuck you.”

“Now that you did say the other night. Numerous times.” Colin knew he was asking for it, but he couldn’t seem to care. She was at least talking to him.

“That night was a fantasy, a lie.” There was a very slight tremor in her voice, and he if he didn’t know he as well as he thought he did, he would’ve missed it.

“You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” Why couldn’t he just stop talking?

She flinched as if he had slapped her.  Her eyes filled with tears, and she shook her head, not understanding how the man in front of her could say such things when just a few days before he had been treating her as if she was the most precious thing in his life.

Colin’s stomach dropped, knowing he had gone too far. He immediately took a step forward, his hands reaching for her, but she quickly stepped back, throwing her hands up in front of her.  

“Stay away from me.” She turned and despite the heels she was wearing, was across the foyer and up the stairs before he could blink.  

Colin stood frozen in the empty foyer, the sting of her words settling over him like ice.

"Stay away from me."

The words echoed in his mind, each syllable sharp and final. He’d gone too far. He knew it the moment her eyes filled with tears - tears he put there.

For a brief moment, the bourbon had fueled his reckless anger, pushing him to lash out with words meant to wound. But now, in the cold silence of the foyer, that anger drained away, leaving behind only guilt. A crushing, suffocating guilt.

He dragged a hand over his face, feeling the weight of what he’d done. He wanted to turn back time, to stop himself from saying those words, from making the situation so much worse.

He leaned against the wall, his heart pounding and the alcohol now a bitter taste on his tongue. For the first time in years, he couldn’t lie to himself. Their friendship was shattered again. All the progress they’d made, all the healing of old wounds, had come undone in an instant, as though the past decade’s pain had never truly faded.

You didn’t give her a chance to explain. You decided for her - again.

That truth struck him like a cold shock, cutting through the haze of bourbon and regret. She had been right to walk away.

And this time, he doubted she’d ever forgive him.

Chapter Text

“Ms. Featherington? Lady Danbury will see you now.” The administrative assistant smiled politely at Penelope as she rose from her desk to lead her into Lady Danbury’s office.

“Thank you,” Penelope murmured, smoothing her skirt in an attempt to shake off the nerves swirling in her stomach. She followed the assistant down the polished hallway and into a spacious corner office. There, behind an imposing Regency-style executive desk, sat Lady Agatha Danbury. Her sharp eyes twinkled with warmth as Penelope entered. With a nod to the assistant, Agatha signaled for the door to be quietly closed behind them.

“Penelope! How lovely to see you, dear. How are you?” Lady Danbury’s voice was as inviting as a cup of tea spiked with whiskey – warm but carrying the weight of authority, softening the stern image she often projected.

Penelope circled the desk to kiss Agatha’s cheeks and grasp her hand warmly. “I’m well, thank you, Lady Danbury. And how are you? How is Gareth and the rest of the family?”

Agatha’s lips curled in a familiar smirk. “Dear girl, I’ve told you before to call me Agatha. And you probably know how Gareth is doing better than I do, considering how much time he spends with your crew at the Bridgertons.” The affection in her tone was unmistakable.

Penelope couldn’t help but smile, though a tinge of sheepishness colored her expression. "Sorry, old habits die hard."

Agatha had been a constant in her life since childhood, and now stood as a mentor and friend. Yet, despite their growing closeness, the formalities lingered as part of the respect Penelope held for the woman who had helped launch her career.

At 23, diploma in hand from UCL, Penelope had approached Agatha seeking feedback on a novel she had been working on throughout her university days. Instead of mere critique, Agatha had offered her a publishing deal, an opportunity that had changed her life. Now, seven years later, she stood as a successful romance novelist writing under the pseudonym Lady Whistledown, with three published books and a fourth set to be released next year.

Taking the chair opposite Agatha’s desk, Penelope’s fingers fidgeted with the hem of her jacket. Something felt off. This wasn’t one of their regularly scheduled meetings, and the unexpected call on Friday from Agatha’s admin had left her unsettled all weekend. She and Agatha shared a strong bond, built over years of mentorship, but the assistant’s brief but cryptic message: Lady Danbury requests your presence first thing Monday morning hinted at something more serious.

Agatha folded her hands in front of her, her gaze unwavering and direct. “Penelope, I’ve called you in because Danbury Publishing has been approached about a potential merger.”

Penelope straightened in her chair, her heart skipping a beat. She had prepared herself for bad news about disappointing book sales or a delay in her next release, but a merger? That was unexpected—and not entirely welcome.

“A merger?” Penelope echoed, her brow furrowing slightly. “With whom?”

“Bridgerton Production Company,” Agatha replied evenly. “They have shown interest in collaborating with us, and I believe it could be beneficial for both parties.”

The entertainment company was known for its high-quality travel documentaries, led by none other than Colin Bridgerton, the third son of the family. But they weren’t involved in the literary world—at least, not until now.

Colin... Penelope pushed the thought aside, refusing to let her mind wander down that path. Instead, she focused on the issue at hand. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Why would BPC want to merge with us…I mean, Danbury Publishing?”

Agatha’s gaze remained steady, though her shoulders sagged slightly, as if burdened by the weight of what she was about to reveal. “Penelope, the company is struggling. We’re barely staying afloat. I’ve mentored you in the ways of publishing, yes, but I’ve held back some of the more pressing realities, hoping we’d turn a corner soon. Unfortunately, that hasn’t happened.”

Penelope’s heart sank as she continued listening to Agatha’s words.

“Our other authors simply aren’t selling. Your Lady Whistledown novels are the only ones keeping us alive right now. But even that isn’t enough. My instincts for what the public wants have failed me lately. I haven’t had a bestseller outside of your books for over a year, and despite our efforts, we’re bleeding money.”

Penelope exhaled slowly, her mind spinning. She’d suspected that things weren’t going well—after all, her informal chats with other employees had hinted at financial struggles—but she hadn’t realized the situation was this dire. Agatha had always been so composed, so unshakable. The reality was sobering.

“So, the Bridgertons...?” Penelope asked cautiously, needing more clarity.

Agatha nodded. “Anthony Bridgerton has spoken with his siblings—Daphne, Benedict, Eloise—and they’ve come to me with an offer. One that, under the circumstances, we can’t easily refuse.”

Penelope’s eyes narrowed slightly. “And Colin?”

All five of the older Bridgerton siblings held significant positions at BPC, each having an equal voice in the company’s decisions. In contrast, the three youngest siblings chose to explore their own paths rather than follow in their siblings’ footsteps. Gregory was contemplating film school, although that would probably lead him to BPC in the future. Meanwhile, Francesca had relocated to Scotland to pursue a career as a concert pianist, while Hyacinth was studying interior design at university.

A shadow crossed Agatha’s face. “Colin has some… misgivings.”

Penelope fought the urge to roll her eyes. Of course he does. She tried to keep her tone neutral, despite the tension simmering beneath her composed exterior. “I see.”

Agatha studied her for a moment before speaking again, her voice gentle but probing. “Tell me what you’re thinking, dear. I can see you’re dying to say something.”

Penelope chewed on her bottom lip, considering her words carefully. “I’m just trying to wrap my head around it. What does Bridgerton Productions have to do with publishing? Why us? What do they want? To make a documentary on the publishing process?”

She stood, pacing as she continued. “I understand we’re all in the entertainment industry, but this seems like a strange fit. What exactly are they proposing?”

Agatha watched her, hands folded calmly in front of her. “Not as strange as it seems. Anthony did his research, and he knows how much of our revenue comes from your Lady Whistledown books. He believes there’s an untapped potential there, one that could be expanded into television.”

Penelope stopped in her tracks, blinking. “A television series? Based on my books?”

Agatha nodded, her eyes gleaming with something close to pride. “Yes, my dear. They want to option the Lady Whistledown series for a full adaptation. They see the same potential I’ve always seen in you—only now, they want to take it to a much larger stage.”

Penelope’s pulse quickened as she processed the implications. Her mind raced with a million thoughts, from the potential for success to the many risks involved. A television series could catapult her work to new heights—or it could tarnish everything she’d worked so hard to build.

“And they believe this will save Danbury Publishing?” Penelope asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Agatha smiled sadly. “Not completely. We’ll merge with BPC, but things will be different. I won’t have full control anymore, and decisions will need to go through other voices.”

Agatha rose from her desk and moved to stand beside Penelope at the window, which offered a sweeping view of Tower Bridge. Together, they gazed out at the bustling city below, the weight of their conversation hanging in the air.

“I know you had your heart set on taking over for me one day,” Agatha continued, her voice soft. “And I wish I could have made that dream come true for you. There’s no one I would have trusted more as my successor. But I don’t have time to turn things around anymore.”

Penelope stiffened, sensing something deeper in Agatha’s tone. It wasn’t just about retirement.

Agatha’s gaze remained fixed on the horizon. “The doctors say I might have a year or two, and they can slow the cancer’s growth... but they can’t stop it.”

Later that night, Penelope sat at her desk, staring blankly at the documents Lady Danbury had sent home with her to review. The words blurred on the page, unread, their meaning lost in the storm of thoughts swirling in her mind. She’d tried, really tried, to focus on work—on the upcoming merger, on the future she’d fought so hard to build—but her thoughts kept drifting from one thing to another.

Agatha’s terminal cancer diagnosis had shaken her to the core, sending her into a spiral she hadn’t anticipated. The loss of her friend and mentor felt more devastating than the loss of her own father. It wasn’t just the impending death of a woman she admired; it was the slow unraveling of everything Lady Danbury had built. The Lady Whistledown books might survive, but Danbury Publishing wouldn’t.

And then there was the merger—the loss of her professional dream. While new doors might open for her in the future, the knowledge that there would no longer be a Danbury Publishing broke her heart. The foundation she had worked so hard to build suddenly felt shaky. The ground beneath her no longer seemed solid.

As if all that weren’t enough, then there were the Bridgertons.

She had always been part of the family—closer to them than her own, as though they were bound by something stronger than blood. They had been her saving grace when her mother left her to fend for herself. After her father’s death, and when her mother and sisters had scattered to their own lives, the Bridgertons had taken her in, no questions asked. What had started as a temporary arrangement at Number 5 during university breaks had evolved into something permanent. They made her one of their own, filling the void her biological family had left behind.

Sunday dinners had become a staple, and birthdays and holidays were filled with laughter and warmth she never could have imagined. She had been there for all of it. Family vacations, spontaneous weekend get-togethers, even those lazy afternoons in the garden with Violet and Eloise, sipping tea and gossiping about nothing. Violet Bridgerton had become a second mother to her, something Penelope cherished deeply. And Eloise? Her closest friend, her confidante, her anchor through life’s storms.

She adored each and every one of the Bridgertons in her own way. Daphne, the poised older sister who treated her like she belonged. Benedict, whose artistic soul made her feel understood. Anthony, always teasing but fiercely protective, even of her. Francesca, with whom she could simply sit in comfortable silence, content just to be. Hyacinth and Gregory, who were younger but whom she’d watched grow up, had a special place in her heart as well.

But with that closeness came an unexpected fear—one that had been quietly gnawing at her since the merger was proposed. What if something went wrong?

The idea of merging business and family terrified her. They already shared so much of their lives together. She was Eloise’s best friend, practically a sister, but she wasn’t blood. What if things went sour? If the business dealings caused a rift, Penelope knew that, at the end of the day, she wasn’t really a Bridgerton. If it all fell apart, she’d be the outsider. The non-family member. The expendable one.

She imagined the awkward silences at those Sunday dinners, the distant glances at family parties. Would they still invite her, or would she slowly be cut off from them, as though she had never belonged? If something went wrong in the business—and she wasn’t naïve, she knew it could materialize – what would happen to her place in their lives?

Violet had taken her in when her family had fallen apart, but if she found herself at odds with Anthony or Benedict or Eloise, would that change? She wasn’t family, not really. Blood ran thicker than friendship, didn’t it?

It didn't bear thinking about. 

And then there was Colin.

If the business relationship with the family went through, she’d have to deal with him on more than just a superficial level. For years, she had mastered the art of keeping a comfortable distance—close enough to the rest of the Bridgertons, but never letting Colin get too near. It was a delicate balance she had perfected over time. Casual smiles, polite conversation, allowing an arm around her shoulder while holding her body as far from him as possible. Nothing too deep. Nothing too personal.

But business? That was different. It would demand constant interaction, collaboration, and decision-making. The polite distance she had carefully crafted for a decade wouldn’t be enough. There would be no avoiding him.

The thought made her heart clench. She wasn’t the same girl she had been ten years ago. She had grown, built a life, and moved past her feelings for Colin. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.

Yet even now—after all these years and all the carefully constructed walls—being around him was still difficult. He stirred something deep inside her, something she thought she had buried long ago. An old, dull ache that resurfaced every time his name was mentioned, or his smile flashed across the room.

If the merger went through, that carefully guarded wound would be exposed. She’d see him in meetings, negotiate business decisions, attend family gatherings. She couldn’t escape him, no matter how hard she tried.

Her mind spiraled at the thought.

Could she keep her guard up? Would he notice that the closeness they once shared had become a hollow performance? Would he finally see how deeply he had hurt her? Or would he remain blissfully unaware of the damage he’d caused?

For so long, Penelope had managed her emotions around him, hiding her feelings behind a professional façade. But what if that wall cracked under the pressure? What if she couldn’t hold it together?

And worst of all—what if he noticed?

Working together would force old wounds to the surface. Seeing him every day could remind her of everything she’d lost—or never had in the first place.

The pain wasn’t as raw as it had been years ago. She’d moved on, had serious relationships, fallen in and out of love. She wasn’t hung up on Colin Bridgerton—not anymore. Not in the way people might think.

But the memories lingered. They crept in when she least expected them, and tonight—when everything seemed to be falling apart—they felt especially close, like shadows she couldn’t shake.

Ten years ago. A month after her 20th birthday, her father unexpectedly died. Though they hadn’t been particularly close, his death was still a shock she hadn’t anticipated. Shortly after the funeral, a distant Featherington cousin arrived to claim the title, tossing her and her family aside without a second thought.

Her mother and sisters scattered, abandoning any pretense of family. Phillipa had moved in with her fiancé. Prudence disappeared to Brighton. Her mother fled to Ireland. Penelope had nowhere to go until Violet offered her a room at Number 5.

Colin had been her rock through it all. He held her hand at the funeral, sat beside her through the inquest, helped her pack up her room, and made sure she was never alone. He was her knight, her shield. His attentiveness, his protectiveness—it all convinced her that he had finally seen her.

After years of loving him quietly, standing in the shadows while he lived his life, Colin had begun to notice her. He was her light in the darkness, guiding her through the grief.

She had convinced herself that his silence wasn’t rejection, but rather that he was waiting for the right moment to confess his feelings.

So, she told him first.

The Bridgerton family had gathered for a week long trip to Aubrey Hall.  After one particularly lighthearted night, Penelope had found herself alone with Colin, sitting on the floor close to him, their backs up against a couch. It was late. The house was quiet, everyone else asleep, leaving the two of them sitting together in the living room. Laughing. Talking. Just like always.

But Penelope had wanted more than just “like always.”

“Colin?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled lazily, his head leaning back against the couch. “Hmm?”

She swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. “I love you.”

A small smile tugged at his lips, and for one blindingly hopeful moment, she thought this was it. The moment everything changed.

“Love you too, Pen,” he murmured, the words falling easily from his lips.

Penelope’s heart skipped a beat. He loves me. He really does. “You do?”

Colin grinned at her, his eyes half-lidded with sleep. “Yeah, of course. You’re like my best friend. A sister from another mister.” He paused, grimacing slightly. “Or… you know, whatever.”

Penelope felt the ground shift beneath her, the air suddenly thick and hard to breathe.

“No,” she stammered, her voice trembling. “I mean, I love you, Colin. Not like a sister.”

His grin faltered, replaced by an indulgent, almost condescending smile.

“Oh, Pen,” he said in a slightly pitying tone. “You don’t love me. Not like that.”

“I do, I—”

But Colin kept going, his voice light and easy, as if her heart wasn’t crumbling right in front of him.

“Look, you’ve had a rough few months. It’s only natural that you’d feel confused—grief messes with your head. You’re just clinging to something familiar.”

Penelope’s chest tightened, her hands trembling in her lap.

“I know you’re grateful that I’ve been around,” Colin continued, oblivious to the devastation his words were causing. “But it’s not love. Not really. You’ll see that once you’ve had some time.”

She tried to speak, tried to tell him that he was wrong, that she knew her own heart. But she couldn’t get the words out. Her throat had closed, suffocating her in the tidal wave of humiliation and pain.

And then came the final blow.

“Besides,” he added casually, “how awkward would it be if you actually meant it? There’s Marina to consider…”

“M-Marina?” Her voice barely escaped her throat.

Colin’s grin widened. “Yeah, we’ve been talking since the funeral. Your cousin is amazing. I asked her to go to France with me next month. I think… well, we’ll see what happens.”

The knife twisted.

He stood up, gave her a friendly pat on the knee, and wished her goodnight, as if he hadn’t just obliterated her heart.

Penelope had sat there, alone in the dark, for what felt like hours, bleeding from wounds he would never see.

He didn’t notice when she stayed in her room the next day, avoiding everyone until dinner. He didn’t notice when she made an excuse about school so she could leave Aubrey Hall early.

And when he hugged her goodbye, telling her to come see him off before he left for France with her cousin, she never did.

He never said a word about her not being there. She wasn’t even sure he had noticed.

Penelope blinked away the tears that had unexpectedly welled in her eyes, the memory still stinging despite the years that had passed. It was a turning point in her life—the moment she understood how deeply her heart could break, how trust and vulnerability could be shattered, even without deliberate cruelty.

She believed she had healed, that the fragments of her broken heart had finally fused back together. She built walls to protect herself, ensuring no one could hurt her like that again.

Yet with the prospect of spending more than just superficial time with Colin, all the pain she had buried surged back to the surface.

She wasn’t that naïve girl anymore; she wouldn’t allow anyone to hurt her like that again.

Penelope closed her eyes, willing the memories away, but the ache in her chest lingered. The documents in front of her remained untouched, a stark reminder of how far she had come—and how far she still had to go. No matter how successful she had become, no matter how carefully she had crafted her life, Colin’s dismissal of her love had shaped every part of it.

A soft, bitter laugh escaped her lips. How pathetic must she seem, still haunted by feelings that should have faded long ago?

But love doesn’t simply fade, does it? It lingers, festers, twists in the dark corners of your heart until you’ve learned to live with the pain, even if you’ll never fully escape it.

Her phone buzzed, breaking her reverie. A message from Eloise: Colin’s coming home! Family dinner tomorrow. You coming?

Penelope stared at the words for a long moment, her thumb hovering over the screen. She hadn’t seen Colin in nearly two years, not since his last whirlwind trip through London. Not since she had convinced herself that she was fine. That she could handle being around him without the memories suffocating her.

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest.

Could she really do it? Could she face him after all this time and pretend, once again, that nothing had ever happened? That he hadn’t ripped her heart to shreds and left her to pick up the pieces alone?

Her hand trembled as she typed out her reply, keeping it simple. Emotionless.

I’ll be there.

As she hit send, Penelope leaned back in her chair, her pulse quickening. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, she would see him again.

And tomorrow, she would have to remind herself, all over again, that she had moved on.

Even if it was the biggest lie she’d ever told herself.

Chapter Text

Colin’s flight from Nepal had been delayed again.

He sighed, staring at his phone screen, willing the app to change the outcome, even though he knew better. Should he reroute through another city just to get home a few hours earlier? He toyed with the idea, but deep down, he knew it didn’t matter. Whether he stayed put or hopped from city to city, he wasn’t going to make it home when he planned.

All he wanted now was to be back in his own bed, surrounded by the familiarity he hadn’t realized he missed so much until recently. For years, the idea of “home” had been abstract, a place to escape from. Now, it was all he craved.

The past few weeks had been a whirlwind—trekking through the Himalayas, exploring remote villages, immersing himself in the vastness of Nepal’s landscapes. It had been the kind of adventure he used to thrive on, but now, it just felt like an endurance test. The excitement had dulled, leaving him yearning for something simpler. Traveling, once exhilarating, had become exhausting. Airports, unfamiliar beds, constant motion—it all weighed on him as he sat in the sterile airport, caught in a limbo between adventure and home.

Another buzz from his phone—another delay.

Colin closed his eyes, leaning back in the uncomfortable airport chair, his thoughts drifting to his childhood room. He could almost feel the softness of his sheets, the warmth of his blankets, the silence that only came with having your own space. No more shared bathrooms, no more noise creeping into his sleep. He longed for the comfort of the familiar, where the world felt smaller, more manageable.

An announcement crackled over the loudspeaker, confirming what he already knew: no flights were leaving anytime soon. He groaned inwardly. Nothing to do but wait. He wrapped his jacket tighter around him, bracing against the airport's cold, stale air. Despite his frustration, there was a strange sense of calm that settled over him. Maybe it was the certainty that, no matter how long it took, he’d eventually get home.

Home. The thought pulled him in two directions—toward comfort, yes, but also toward a reality he hadn’t faced in years.

For the longest time, traveling had been his escape. Whenever the weight of being a Bridgerton became too much, whenever someone wanted more from him than he could give, the world had always been there to disappear into. He had left London behind with ease, shedding the expectations that came with being the third son, constantly overshadowed by his older brothers. Abroad, no one cared about his last name. Out there, he was just Colin—a man with stories to tell and no family legacy trailing behind him.

But lately, the freedom he once chased had started to feel hollow. On a mountain in Nepal, he asked himself why he was still pushing—why he was still pretending this life suited him when it no longer did. Then Benedict’s call came, talking about the merger with Danbury Publishing, and it was the excuse he needed. A real reason to go home, other than his growing homesickness.

Ten years of constant traveling had worn him down. He wasn’t that 23-year-old kid anymore, the one who could sleep in bus stations or eat anything without hesitation. Now, each delay and every mediocre hotel bed felt like a burden. Even filming, the thing that once made him feel alive, had begun to lose its luster. It wasn’t about capturing the essence of a place anymore; it had turned into a chase for the perfect shot, the image that would sell. His heart wasn’t in it the way it used to be.

His latest trek in Nepal had just felt like another box to tick. He spent more time pretending to be engaged for the camera than actually enjoying the experience. He was tired of pretending.

He missed home. And more than that, he missed his family—his crazy, loud, and sometimes overwhelming family. Over the years, he had missed too much. He missed Gregory’s university graduation, and if he stayed on the road, he was going to miss Hyacinth’s too. Birthdays, holidays, engagements, celebrations – he had missed too many of them over the years.

What had once been a thrilling escape now felt like isolation. His friendships had thinned to sporadic texts, occasional Facetime calls, and shallow conversations. The deeper connections he once had felt distant. The world had once been a place where he found himself. Now, it only made him feel more lost.

He missed the comfort of being surrounded by people who knew him—who had always been there, even when he wasn’t. He didn’t realize it yet, but a part of him was also craving the things he’d taken for granted, the connections he’d let drift while he was away. He thought of Will and Phillip. Of Penelope.

It struck him how much he missed Pen, perhaps just as much as his own family. They hadn’t had a real conversation in years; not like they used to. They exchanged emails, of course. He’d send her stories from his travels, and she always responded with thoughtful questions, seemingly eager to hear about the things he had seen and experienced. In fact, Penelope had been his most loyal correspondent during his travels, offering a sense of connection when he felt adrift. He’d thought, more than once, about confiding in her during those moments of loneliness—telling her how travel had begun to feel more like a burden than the passion it once was. If anyone could understand, it would be her. She had always been the steady presence in his life, the reliable listener when he needed it most.

But during the call with Benedict, Colin was hit with a realization that shook him. Maybe Penelope hadn’t been as steady a presence as he thought.

“Wait, did you just say Penelope? As in Featherington?” Colin had asked, his voice betraying the surprise he felt.

Benedict groaned on the other end of the line. “Yes, Colin. Did you even hear anything I said, or are you still daydreaming about your precious mountains?”

Colin rubbed his eyes, trying to focus. “Sorry, I was just… surprised. What does Penelope have to do with Danbury?”

“Keep up, darling brother. She works there,” Benedict replied, an exaggerated sigh accompanying his words. “She’s been working her way up for years. She’s expected to take over for Lady Danbury one day. How did you not know this? Haven’t you two been friends since you were in nappies?”

Colin coughed, his voice faltering. “Of course I knew. I just—sorry, I’m exhausted.” A strange pang twisted in his chest. How had he missed something so significant? It wasn’t the kind of detail you missed about someone you considered a close friend.

“Right. Well, she’s central to these merger talks, just like the rest of us. Everyone needs to be on board for this deal to happen—including Penelope.”

Penelope, part of the Danbury empire. Colin hadn’t realized how much her life had evolved. She wasn’t just the girl he once knew. She had grown, taken on responsibilities he never even knew about. How had he missed it? They had kept in touch for years, saw each other whenever he managed to return home, and hung out when he could. Of course, their friendship wasn’t the same as it had been when they were kids, but he had chalked that up to growing older, to the natural distance that came from him being away all the time.

“I’ll grab the next flight I can. Can the talks hold off until I’m home?” Colin asked, already pulling up a list of available flights on his laptop.

“I’ll let Anthony and Lady Danbury know you’ll be here soon,” Benedict said, the call ending shortly after.

As Colin booked his flight and began to pack, a single question kept running through his mind: How could I have not known?

For the last twenty-four hours, that thought gnawed at him. He had always believed he knew Penelope so well. Yet somehow, he’d missed something massive—her job, her ambition to one day run Danbury Publishing. How had he let that slip past him? Had she mentioned it in an email and he just missed it? Was he so busy telling his story that he didn’t bother paying attention to hers?

Sitting by his gate, Colin opened his laptop and began scrolling through the folder labeled “Pen.” It contained years of emails—thousands of them—stretching back to one of his first jaunts across the world. He had saved them all, messages from Penelope that had been a constant through his travels, a lifeline to home when everything else felt so far away. He smiled at the thought of how reliable she had been, always there to respond with thoughtful questions and genuine curiosity about his adventures.

But as he began reading through them, a pattern quickly emerged. A few emails in, it hit him: Penelope always wrote back about him. She responded to what he had shared, asked follow-up questions about the places he’d visited, the people he’d met, and the experiences he’d had. She was enthusiastic about his travels, about all he was seeing and learning from the world.

But she never once told him anything about herself.

There was no mention of her finishing university, no update on when she got a job. Not a single word about where she lived or whom she spent her time with. She had never shared her thoughts, her dreams, or even the challenges she faced. It was as if Penelope’s entire existence had revolved around listening to him.

And he hadn’t noticed.

Looking back at his own emails, Colin felt a sickening weight settle in his stomach. He had never truly asked her how she was. Oh, sometimes he’d throw in a random question about what she had planned for the weekend or whether she’d be there to welcome him home with his family. But never anything deeper. He never dived into her life, her emotions, her desires.

How had he missed this?

Penelope had been a constant presence in his life, always ready with kind words, unflagging support, and genuine interest in his endless stories about places she’d never been. And yet, Colin had been so wrapped up in his own world that he’d never stopped to ask about hers. He had been self-centered, taking her loyalty and care for granted, never once considering that she might have her own dreams or struggles.

It was embarrassing to think about how one-sided their friendship had been. Ten years of correspondence, filled with his stories, his projects, his life. And Penelope? She had been a blank space, always there to reflect his thoughts back to him but never sharing her own.

Colin stared at his laptop, guilt twisting in his gut. Penelope had slipped through the cracks of his life without him even realizing it. How could he have called himself her friend when he had never truly seen her?

And now, as he prepared to return to London, he realized that everything had changed. Penelope wasn’t just the girl who waited for him to return. She was someone he needed to understand—someone he needed to reconnect with before it was too late.

The delay had cost Colin nearly a full day so when he finally arrived at Number Five, he barely had time to drop his suitcase in the guest room before his mother ushered him downstairs for dinner. He didn’t mind, though. He was happy to be staying with her for a while, giving himself a chance to readjust to life back in London. He knew he’d eventually find his own lodgings—sooner rather than later, if he were honest—but for now, staying in the family home felt like the perfect way to ease back into things.

As he stepped into the dining room, a wave of familiarity washed over him. His family was exactly as he remembered them—loud, chaotic, and full of life. Anthony was holding court at the head of the table, his voice booming with authority as Kate leaned in to whisper something to Daphne, whose laughter rang out a second later. Eloise, true to form, was passionately discussing a new feminist essay she had read, while Hyacinth and Sophie exchanged exaggerated eyerolls at one of Benedict’s sarcastic quips. Nearby, Gregory was deep in conversation with Simon, excitedly talking about his plans to visit New York and check out NYU’s film school.

It was a whirlwind of conversation, laughter, and movement—everything that made the Bridgerton household feel so alive. Colin couldn't help but smile at the sight. It was late, so none of his nieces and nephews were at the table, but he knew he’d see them soon enough. For now, he was just grateful to be surrounded by the familiar comfort of his siblings.

And then his eyes landed on Penelope.

She was sitting beside Eloise, her head tilted slightly downward as if she were listening intently, but there was an odd distance about her. When she glanced up and caught Colin’s eye, she offered a polite smile—so brief and cold, he felt a flicker of something he hadn’t expected: discomfort. There had always been an ease between them, but now, something had changed. Something that had nothing to do with his absence and everything to do with the fact that, somewhere along the way, he had stopped seeing her.

Before he could linger on it, his mother’s voice broke through the moment.

“Colin!”

In an instant, he was swept up in a flurry of greetings and hugs. Hyacinth, as usual, was the first to reach him, her enthusiasm bubbling over as it had since she was a toddler. The rest of his siblings followed, each one offering their own warm welcome. His heart swelled with happiness, a sense of belonging that felt like a balm after years of being away. There was something so grounding about being surrounded by his family again—something he hadn’t realized he’d missed until now.

But it was Anthony, with his hand on Colin’s shoulder and a quiet, “Good to have you home, brother,” that almost brought tears to Colin’s eyes.

It was good to be home.

Throughout the first half of the meal, Colin easily fell into the familiar rhythm of family banter—teasing about his travels, talk of his latest projects, and gossip about London’s society. Yet, no matter how lively the conversation became, his attention kept drifting back to Penelope.

She was so different from the woman he remembered. Polite, yes—she laughed when appropriate, asked questions when the conversation turned her way—but it all felt scripted. She wasn’t the same Penelope who used to dive into discussions with wit and passion. A distance had settled in her eyes, one that felt almost impenetrable, despite her physical presence at the table.

When there was a lull, Colin seized the moment. “Penelope, how’s work going? I hear you’ve been pretty busy at Danbury.”

She glanced up, her expression neutral. “Oh, you know. Busy as ever. Meetings, edits. Keeps me on my toes.”

“That’s great,” he said, smiling, though a strange tightness gripped him. “I hear you’re central to the merger talks. You must be excited.”

Her smile tightened. “Yes, it’s a big opportunity.”

“For the company and for you, I’d imagine. You’re practically running things over there, right?”

Penelope brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, her tone so detached it unsettled him. “Not quite. Lady Danbury and the Board of Directors still make the decisions. I’m just there to help.”

Colin frowned, surprised by the disinterest in her response. He had expected her to light up at the mention of her work, but she seemed almost dismissive. Before he could dig deeper, she deftly redirected the conversation. “And you, Colin? Off to another adventure soon?”

“Actually, I’m thinking of staying in London for a while,” he replied, noting the way she steered the focus away from herself.

“Is that so?” Penelope’s voice was light, but something unspoken hung in the air.

Before Colin could respond, Eloise interrupted with a question, and Penelope’s attention shifted away. But the growing tension between them clung to him, tightening like a knot.

As dessert was served, the lighthearted conversation around him felt distant, fading into background noise. Colin’s mind kept circling back to Penelope. The easy warmth he had taken for granted was gone, replaced by a formality that left him off balance.

In re-reading their old emails, he realized that his focus had always been on himself—his travels, his plans. He hadn’t noticed, hadn’t asked, hadn’t realized that she was holding him at arm’s length. He had taken her silence for granted, assuming that if something were wrong, she would have told him. But she hadn’t. Now, her indifference felt like a quiet condemnation.

Determined to bridge the gap, Colin tried once more. “Pen,” he said softly, the old nickname slipping out. “Have I done something to upset you? You don’t seem like yourself tonight.”

Penelope paused, her hand hovering over a piece of cake. Slowly, she met his gaze, her eyes guarded. “No, Colin. You haven’t done anything.”

The coolness in her voice cut deep. His stomach churned with unease. She had changed, grown, and he missed it. In fact, he hadn’t even noticed it.

He had screwed up.

He wanted to believe it wasn’t too late to fix things. But with every passing minute, that hope felt thinner.

By the time dessert was finished and the family began to scatter, Colin’s chest felt heavy. The lighthearted banter with his siblings, the comfort of being home—it all contrasted sharply with the growing distance between him and Penelope. He had known he’d messed up, but the coldness she showed tonight had cut deeper than he expected.

He spotted her near the hallway, pulling on her coat, slipping away from the group like she couldn’t get out fast enough. He quickened his pace, catching her just before she left. “Penelope, wait.”

She paused at the door, turning slowly. The cool night air slipped in, sharp and cutting.

“What is it, Colin?” Her voice was steady, but it lacked the warmth he remembered so well.

He hesitated, words faltering. “Things feel... different between us.”

Her gaze flickered—hurt, anger, disappointment—but it passed too quickly for him to catch, smothered beneath a tight, practiced smile.

“They’ve changed,” she said, her voice quiet but unwavering, like a truth she’d carried for far too long.

He felt the ground shift beneath him, scrambling for something to hold onto. “But we’re still friends, right?”

For the smallest fraction of a moment, her expression softened—something fragile, something longing, like a memory she couldn’t quite let go of. But it vanished just as fast, leaving only resignation in its place.

“Friends?” The word was a whisper, brittle and strange on her lips. She looked away, almost like the weight of it was too much to hold. When she met his gaze again, her eyes were steady, a little sad, but tired—so tired. “Colin... we haven’t been friends for a long time.”

The air shifted between them, thick with everything she wasn’t saying—the letters she had written because she didn’t know how to stop, the spaces between his replies that grew wider and wider, the hurt she had swallowed whole when he broke her heart. It was all there, unspoken, hanging heavy in the space between them. But she wasn’t going to tell him that. Not now. Maybe not ever.

He opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been holding on to the past—clinging to the idea that no matter how far they drifted, Penelope would still be there. But she wasn’t. She hadn’t been for a long, long time. And now he was just beginning to see the space where she used to be, the part of her he’d never noticed slipping away.

Before he could say anything—anything to undo the ache between them—Penelope gave him a small, fleeting smile—not unkind, but distant, like a memory slipping through his fingers.

“Take care, Colin.”

And just like that, she turned and walked into the night, leaving him standing alone in the hollow silence of the hallway.

He stayed there, frozen, the weight of her absence pressing down harder than he expected. It was the kind of ache that came too late—the realization that what he’d thought would always be there was already gone. And worse, that it had been gone for longer than he was willing to admit.

Penelope had moved on. And he was standing in the ruins of something he didn’t know was over.

Chapter Text

The boardroom was bathed in warmth, the sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows over the conference table. The air was heavy with the tension of negotiations.

It buzzed with the low hum of conversation as the Bridgertons and Danbury representatives gathered to discuss the merger. Anthony led the meeting with his usual authoritative presence, outlining key points with a cool, collected manner. Benedict added his usual quips, lightening the tension in the room. Colin, however, felt out of place, more out of sorts than he cared to admit.

He shifted in his chair, the sleek wood rigid beneath him, a stark contrast to the comfortable freedom he felt in nature with a camera in hand. He tried to find a spot to speak, to contribute something to the discussion, but Anthony and Benedict seemed to fill every available space with their confident voices, leaving his attempts at interjection hanging in the air.

His gaze drifted to Penelope, seated directly across the table. She appeared untouchable, composed, and in control. Last night’s dinner had left him with the understanding that he truly had no idea who she was anymore. She had lived a whole life without his knowledge.

“We believe the Lady Whistledown series will be a cornerstone of this merger,” Anthony said, turning to Lady Danbury. “The books are a massive success, and with the right adaptation, we think it could be a game-changer for both companies.”

There was a brief pause in the conversation, and Colin saw his chance to speak—finally. He leaned forward, eager to contribute something, anything to prove he belonged at this table. “They’re popular, no doubt,” Colin said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. But I don’t know if they’re, you know, the kind of literature that stands the test of time. Aren’t they just your typical bodice rippers that the Real Housewives like to read?” 

The words landed like a thud, sending ripples of discomfort through the room. Glances were exchanged, but no one seemed to know what to say. 

Across the table, Penelope’s expression flickered. Her knuckles whitened as her hands gripped her pen. She opened her mouth to speak, but for a moment, no words came out. Her professionalism wavered, and Colin could see the first crack in the calm exterior she had so carefully maintained.

“They’re not bodice rippers,” she said, her voice clipped and tight. “They’re incredibly well-written stories with complex characters and plots that resonate with millions of readers.”

Her tone surprised him. Colin straightened in his chair, taken aback by the sharpness in her voice. He hadn’t expected Penelope, of all people, to take it so personally. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, still oblivious to the deeper implications. “I’m just saying… they’re not exactly high literature , right?”

The anger simmering beneath Penelope’s skin began to rise, and her gaze fixed firmly on him. “And who are you to say what qualifies as ‘high literature’?” she snapped, her voice colder now, sharp as ice. “You think just because a book is about love, it’s not worthy of respect?”

Colin blinked, caught off guard by her vehemence. He glanced around the room, but the others were watching the exchange quietly, not intervening. Even Anthony had fallen silent, allowing the tension to stretch.

“I’m not saying it’s not worthy of respect,” Colin said, trying to backtrack, though he felt himself sinking deeper. “I’m just saying... it’s romance. It’s light entertainment.”

Penelope’s chair scraped against the floor as she sat back, her posture rigid. Her voice trembled with anger she could no longer suppress. “Those books—those stories—have carried this company through the hardest times. They’ve meant more to people than you could ever understand.”

Her eyes flashed with something Colin hadn’t seen last night. Real emotion. He waded into something here, but he didn’t know what. She wasn’t just being professional—this was personal.

“You don’t have to be so protective of the author, Pen,” Colin said, his voice softening as if trying to soothe the sting he’d caused. “I’m just saying, from a business perspective—”

“I’m not protective of the author,” Penelope interrupted, her tone biting. “I’m protective of the work. You think just because they’re about love, they’re frivolous?” Her voice was sharp, each word edged with the weight of years. “You don’t understand what these stories mean to people. How could you possibly understand?”

Colin could feel the weight of her anger, but he still didn’t quite understand why. Why did this matter so much to her? The tension was rising, and he realized, too late, that he’d misread the room completely.

Just as the conversation seemed to reach its peak, Lady Danbury cleared her throat, her voice cutting through the air like a razor. “Enough.”

All eyes turned to her as she slowly stood, leaning heavily on her cane. Penelope’s anger seemed to fade instantly, her attention immediately shifting to her mentor.

Colin looked at Lady Danbury, a strange dread settling in his stomach. He knew something was coming—something horrible, based on Penelope’s expression—but when Lady Danbury’s voice trembled slightly, it cut through him like ice.

“There’s something I need to tell all of you,” Lady Danbury said, her voice steady but heavy with emotion. “This merger isn’t just about saving the company. It’s about securing its future after I’m gone.”

Confusion rippled through the room. “What do you mean?” Anthony asked, his tone cautious.

Lady Danbury took a deep breath, her eyes softening as they fell on Penelope. “I’ve been diagnosed with terminal cancer,” she said quietly. “And I don’t have much time left.”

The room descended into stunned silence. Colin felt the air rush out of him, his gaze snapping to Penelope, who seemed utterly stricken by the news, but not surprised. 

He hadn’t expected this; none of them had. But as Colin looked at Penelope, he noticed the way she pulled on her ear. It was something she had always done when she was feeling lost or uncomfortable.  Her walls crumbled, and for a brief moment, he could see just how much she was holding inside. She looked fragile, broken in a way that made his heart twist painfully in his chest.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, not even sure if he was saying it to Lady Danbury or to Penelope.

The meeting ended shortly after Lady Danbury’s announcement. The group disbanded slowly; each person too shaken by the news to say much. Colin lingered near the door, watching as Penelope slipped away, her face pale and her eyes filled with unshed tears.

Without thinking, he followed her, finding her standing by one of the large windows in the hallway. The light of the late afternoon cast a soft glow over her, but she seemed so small, so far away.

“Pen,” Colin said softly, approaching her slowly, cautiously. “I—are you alright?”

She didn’t turn to face him. Her arms were wrapped around herself, her shoulders stiff. “I’m fine,” she murmured, though her voice betrayed her.

He took another step closer. “No, you’re not.”

Penelope finally turned; her eyes wet but defiant. “Why do you care, Colin? You’ve been gone for years. You don’t get to come back now and act like you’re worried about what I’m going through.”

Colin took a breath. Her blunt and honest nature was a new Pen trait. Her words stung, but he knew he deserved them. 

“I know I haven’t been the friend you deserved,” he said, his voice quiet. “But I’m here now. I want to help.”

For a second, Penelope’s guard lowered, and Colin could see the exhaustion in her eyes. The weight of everything she was carrying—Agatha’s illness, the company, her own personal struggles—it all came crashing down in front of him. And for the first time, she let him see it.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I’ve been trying to hold everything together, but... I’m so tired.”

Colin’s chest tightened. He reached out, placing a hand on her arm, trying to offer comfort. “You’re stronger than you think, Pen.”

The second the words left his mouth, he saw her flinch.

Her expression hardened. “ Stronger than you think .” She echoed the words with a cold, bitter laugh. “You said that when my father died, remember? As if grief was something I could just...push through.”

She stepped back, slipping beyond his reach again, her walls slamming back into place. “I didn’t have the luxury of running away when things got hard, Colin. Some of us had to stay and face things.”

He opened his mouth, desperate to say something. He tried to think of anything that could bridge the growing distance between them, but the words wouldn’t come.

Before he could gather his thoughts, Penelope turned on her heels and walked away, her footsteps echoing in the empty hall.

Colin stood frozen, the weight of her words pressing down on him like stones. He had hoped to repair the damage between them, but now he saw just how deep the wounds really went. Instead of making things better, he just continued to make things worse. He couldn’t seem to keep his foot out of his mouth. This time, charm and apologies wouldn’t be enough.

“Damn it, damn it, damn it.” Penelope brushed the tears away as she walked into her office, shutting and locking the door. She had promised herself that this wasn’t going to happen, that she would hold it together for Agatha and the merger talks. She would be the mature professional woman she had molded herself into, and she would do whatever it took to make sure Danbury Publishing fared well.

Then Colin called her life’s work “bodice rippers” and she lost her damn mind. 

She could have cheerfully murdered him in that moment and not felt an ounce of guilt. 

Rude ass arrogant mother…

The anger was back in full force, which was preferable to the drowning grief she had felt at hearing Agatha announce her diagnosis to everyone. She knew it would come out eventually, but she hadn’t expected it so soon, so publicly. And she knew why she had done it – to stop Penelope from going for Colin’s throat and possibly derailing things. Everyone had to be on board for this merger to happen, and Penelope knew that would have been in danger if things had continued down the path they were on. 

How DARE he? 

She threw the pen she was holding across the room needing to do something with the emotions bubbling inside of her. It hit the wall and then the floor with a very unsatisfying ping. 

She wanted to lash out, to hit something – or someone – and just let all her frustration, her anger, her grief, her worry pour out of her. 

But she didn’t have time. Anthony had changed more language in the contract, with Benedict adding in some provisions for some collaboration between the art departments for both companies. She needed to review the changes and add the thoughts she had when they had been made, but she had been unable to bring them up because Danbury’s lawyers started stonewalling.

Who thought hiring Bertram Fife as a lawyer was a good idea ? He had been a prick when Penelope knew him as a teenager, and nothing had changed as they grew up. When she asked Agatha one day why she kept him around, Agatha smiled, the expression sly and razor-edged.

“Prick he may be, my dear. But he’s a hell of a lawyer.” 

He was still a pain in the ass to work with. 

Penelope needed to find an outlet for her emotions quickly. She walked to her desk, grabbed her purse and was out the door within seconds. She ignored the calls ringing out from those wanting to ask her questions and headed for the elevator. Thankfully it was already on the floor, the doors just closing as she reached them. 

“Hold the elevator!” She yelled, grabbing for the door to stop it from closing. 

The doors stopped and pushed back open. She couldn’t silent the groan that escaped her when she saw Colin inside. 

“Pen…” he greeted her tentatively. 

She ignored him and stepped on the elevator, mashing the ground floor button with her finger. 

The doors shut and she prayed he understood that if he wanted to live, he needed to keep silent. 

“Um, are you okay?” It was obvious she wasn’t, but he had to say something. 

“I want to hit something.” She didn’t know where it came from, as she had no intention of speaking to him. He may have just seen her in tears, but remembering how he basically called her life’s work trashy and the anger came right to the surface. And to be honest, she kinda wanted to hit him. For pissing her off and making her cry, and still being so damn good looking that deep down there was a part of her that wanted to lick his jaw. 

“Okay…should I offer myself up as tribute?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tempt me.” 

She could hear the slight amusement in his voice when he answered, “Actually, I was being serious.”

She turned her head slightly, just enough to let him know she was listening. 

“Mondrich’s. Will has a ring and some boxing gloves above the bar. We’ve gone up there from time to time to let off some steam. He doesn’t advertise it, and only a few of us know about it. Or at least that’s how it was last time I was home.” 

She rolled her eyes. “That was two years ago, Colin.” 

He tried not to be happy that she remembered the last time he was home. “It’s not like I don’t talk to Will, Pen. He texted me just a few weeks ago that he had my brothers up there beating the hell out of each other.” 

She considered. “Fine,” she said after a beat. “See what he says.”

Will was thrilled to hear Colin was back in town – and apparently gave him no little grief about not telling him sooner – but told Colin he and Penelope were welcome to come over and use the ring. 

Penelope stood just outside Mondrich’s, staring at the old brick building as if it might swallow her whole. She could hear the faint sounds of the pub crowd inside and smell the familiar scent of beer and fried food. This was the last place she had expected to end up today, but here she was, about to put on boxing gloves with Colin Bridgerton. 

What the hell am I doing ? she wondered. She wasn’t sure what irritated her more—the fact that Colin had somehow convinced her to come here or that part of her that actually wanted to punch the hell out of something. The way he had talked about her work, the way he’d acted as if he knew her better than she knew herself—it was infuriating. 

Colin stood by the door, watching her. “You ready?” he asked, his voice calm despite the tension simmering inside. The words she’d thrown at him in the hallway still stung, but she was here. She was talking to him. And he’d do whatever it took to keep it that way.

There was uncertainty in her stance, but also a new fierceness he hadn’t seen before. The more time he spent with her, the clearer it became—this wasn’t the blushing girl who used to trail after him. Penelope was a force now, even if she didn’t fully see it herself.

“I guess,” she muttered, brushing past him into the building.

Mondrich’s was still dark and loud, but Colin led her past the noise to a staircase in the back. They climbed to the private room above the bar, where an empty boxing ring waited, surrounded by weights and worn gym equipment.

Will Mondrich stood near the ring, arms crossed, a wide grin spreading across his face when he saw them.

“Well, well, well,” he called out. “If it isn’t Colin Bridgerton himself! And he’s brought company.” His eyes flicked to Penelope. “Didn’t expect to see you here, Penelope.” 

She rolled her eyes, already regretting this. “Don’t get used to it.” 

Will laughed. “Don’t forget to stop downstairs for a drink when you’re done,” he said, clapping Colin on the back. “Gloves are over there. You know the drill. Just don’t break anything, alright?” 

Colin nodded and handed Penelope a pair of gloves. She took them with a scowl. 

“You sure this is what you want to do?” he asked, half teasing but with a hint of genuine concern. 

Penelope tugged the gloves on, flexing her fingers. “I think hitting something is exactly what I need right now.” 

Colin gave her a small smile. “Alright then,” he said as he stepped into the ring. Penelope followed, climbing through the ropes and standing awkwardly for a moment. The ring was smaller than she expected, the distance between them uncomfortably close. 

Colin was watching her, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something more serious. 

“So,” she said, her voice a little sharper than intended. “How does this work? Do I just punch you, or is there some technique I’m supposed to know?” 

Colin walked behind her and put his hands on her elbows. “So, you’ll want to stand with your feet shoulder-width apart and your elbows down, with your gloves raised. Make sure you can see over your gloves.” 

Penelope struggled with not shrugging him off and instead followed his instructions. When he was satisfied with her stance, he moved to pick up a boxing mitt and stand in front of her. 

“When you’re ready to punch, you’re going to want to quickly accelerate your hand towards my mitt. Exhale when you punch. You’re going to use all your body weight behind the punch and try to make contact with the mitt.”  

Penelope didn’t respond. She threw her first punch, a quick jab that barely hit the mitt. Colin didn’t move when she hit his hand, and he could feel the hesitation in her next two punches. 

“You’re holding back,” he said, his voice still calm. “Come on, Pen, you can do better than that.” 

Those words lit a fire under her. She threw a harder punch, this time putting her weight into it. She could feel the impact vibrate through her arm. 

“That’s more like it,” he said, grinning. 

Penelope wasn’t done, however. She threw another punch, this time putting even more power behind it. Colin was taken off guard as the force of it made him take a step back. 

“Okay,” he muttered under his breath, shaking out his arms. “You’re stronger than I thought.” 

Her anger flared again at those words—" stronger than I thought .” Why did he keep underestimating her? 

Each punch felt like a release—not just of anger, but of years of unresolved pain. Her family’s abandonment, Colin’s selfishness and ignorance, the weight of uncertainty about her future, and the looming loss of Agatha’s steady presence all pressed down on her. With every hit, she chipped away at the emotions that had been suffocating her, finding brief relief in the rhythm of the blows.

Without a word, she threw another punch, this one missing the mitt and landing squarely against his jaw, hard enough that Colin’s head snapped back. He rubbed the spot she hit, knowing he’d have a bruise there come tomorrow.  Pen said nothing, her eyebrows raised as if daring him to say anything. 

“Let’s try the bag,” he mumbled, realizing just how incredibly stupid it was to put himself in the position of being beaten up by Penelope. 

He set her up at the punching bag and instructed her on her stance and punches once again. Like hitting the mitt, she was tentative in her first few jabs against the bag, but then confidence took over and she just let loose. 

Colin began to worry slightly that she was going to hurt herself. “Pen…that’s enough. Let’s take a break.” 

She didn’t stop. 

Punch after punch, she let out all the emotions she’d been bottling up for so long. 

He let her continue, seeing that she needed it. He held the bag steady as each punch she landed seemed to drive her to keep going. Colin could see she was getting tired, her punches slowing, her breath coming in short gasps. The look in her eyes—fierce, determined, angry—hadn’t changed, though. She was fighting not just him, but everything that had been weighing her down. 

“Pen,” he said softly, letting go of the bag and stepping toward her. “You don’t have to do this.” 

She trembled as her fists dropped to her sides; breath ragged. For a moment, the weight of everything crashed down on her—too much to bear. Her whole body sagged, drained by the pretense that she could carry it all alone.

Colin moved closer, his hands reaching for her. She flinched but didn’t pull away. He gently removed her gloves, tossing them to the side. “It’s not all on you,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to handle all this on your own.” 

Penelope stared at him, her eyes filling with tears she could no longer contain. “You don’t understand,” she choked out. “I do have to. There’s no one else.” 

Colin shook his head. “You’re not alone, Pen. You never were.” 

She blinked, the tears spilling over as her body sagged with exhaustion. 

Colin caught her, pulling her close before she could argue. For a moment, she stiffened, but then the fight drained out of her, and she collapsed against him. 

Colin held her, feeling the weight of her grief, her frustration, her exhaustion. He wished he could say the right thing, something to fix it all, but he knew this wasn’t something that could be fixed with words. 

They stood there in silence for a long time, the only sound the distant murmur of the people in the pub below. Eventually, Penelope pulled away, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “This doesn’t change anything,” she muttered. 

Colin smiled sadly. “I know.” 

As Penelope looked up at him, there was a flicker of something in her eyes—something that made him hope that maybe all wasn’t lost.

Penelope took a deep breath, trying to steady herself as she stepped back from Colin. Her emotions were a tangled mess, and the weight of everything she’d been carrying for so long felt like it was pressing down on her even harder now. 

She hadn’t expected to break down like this in front of him—of all people—but something about Colin’s quiet presence, his insistence that she didn’t have to bear it all alone, had cracked her open.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, her voice hoarse. “Why now?”

Colin hesitated and he gazed at her sadly. “Because I should have been doing this all along. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed or how much I’d taken for granted. I knew when I came home that I had a lot to make up for, if you’d let me. This is my way of starting to make amends—of being the friend I should have been all along. I want to be someone you can lean on.”

Penelope looked at him, her chest tightening with a mix of anger and sadness. “It’s not that simple, Colin. You can’t just show up after years of being gone and just expect me to forgive and forget.” 

“I don’t expect that,” he said quietly. “It’s taken me far, far too long to realize what I’ve done, Pen. Or I guess I should say, what I haven’t done. I wish I could find the words to make you understand how horrible I feel about the way I’ve treated you and our friendship. But I’m here now, and I want to help—if you’ll let me.”

She shook her head. “It’s not about letting you help, Colin. It’s about the fact that you took off for ten years and didn’t give a shit about what was happening with me. You never once asked how I was doing, or what I was doing. You ignored me and turned what I thought was a friendship into a farce. You don’t just get to walk back into my life and act like that never happened.”

Colin flinched at her words, but he didn’t back down. “I know. And I’m sorrier than I can possibly express for letting that happen. I was selfish and entirely too focused on my own thoughts and feelings. I’m so so sorry, Pen. I wish I could go back in time and change things. But I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Penelope wanted to believe him. Part of her, deep down, still longed for the easy friendship they once had, for the person Colin used to be in her life. So much had changed though. She had changed. She didn’t think that she could trust him again.

“I can’t—” She stopped; her throat tight as she fought back fresh tears. “I don’t trust you. I don’t trust you to be there for me, to be my friend. Too much time has gone by. Too much has happened.” 

He stepped closer, his eyes searching hers. “I’m going to earn back your trust. I’m staying, I’m here. I’m not leaving you alone. Not this time.”

For a long moment, they stood there, the tension between them palpable. Penelope’s mind raced with doubts, with fear, but there was something in Colin’s gaze—something sincere, something different from the carefree charm he usually wore—that made her pause.

She didn’t know if she would trust him ever again, but for the first time in a long time, she felt the tiniest sliver of hope. Maybe, just maybe, things could change.

“I need time,” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Colin nodded, understanding. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be here.”

Penelope turned and walked away, leaving him standing alone in the ring. 

“Take all the time you need,” Colin repeated softly, watching her go. 

As the door clicked shut behind her, Colin knew this wasn’t just about time. It was about proving he could be the person Penelope deserved—something he had never been before.

Chapter Text

"El, can you please turn that down?" Colin muttered, feeling like he was on the verge of losing his mind. Eloise’s Lilith Fair playlist blared at full volume, and he cursed himself for forgetting to charge his AirPods before they left for Aubrey Hall. With Eloise behind the wheel, she had full control over the radio.

“Sorry, Col! Can’t hear you over Sarah McLachlan!” Eloise shouted, diving back into a passionate rendition of "Building A Mystery."

"Jesus." Colin thumped his head against the window, half-hoping one solid hit might knock him out.

A soft giggle drifted from the front seat, and he leaned forward enough to catch a glimpse of Penelope’s profile, her lips curved into a small smile.

“Think this is funny, Featherington?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Without turning around, she simply pointed to her left ear, where her AirPods were sitting in place. Colin couldn’t help but grin at her teasing, even though she hadn’t said a word.

They were on their way to Aubrey Hall for the weekend, as merger talks between Bridgerton Production Company and Danbury Publishing continued. Anthony had invited some of Danbury’s board members, hoping the informal setting might grease the wheels of negotiation. Despite Lady Danbury’s recent health announcement, talks had stalled. Some board members, sensing weakness, were digging in their heels and even courting outside offers. Normally, Lady Danbury wouldn’t have tolerated such behavior, but her reduced presence had emboldened some to make a play for the company.

Money—or the scent of it—brought out the worst in people.

Anthony had explained his reasoning behind the invitation when his siblings asked, smirking as he quipped, “You know what they say, keep your enemies closer.”

Colin hadn’t minded tagging along with Eloise, who insisted on being the one to drive to Aubrey Hall. In truth, the minute he heard Pen would be joining Eloise, he made himself the third passenger, hoping they might have a chance to talk or interact in some way. 

He had stayed true to his word and given her time and space, although it went against every instinct he had to fix things as soon as possible. He saw her at every merger meeting, and knew he wasn’t the only one who noticed the dark circles under her eyes. She had taken the lead on the talks for the Danbury side and his heart filled with pride every time she went toe to toe with Anthony even if their arguments had a lightness to them, or when he heard her giving hell to Fife – he still hated that guy – one afternoon. 

This Pen was formidable, no doubt.  

Yet, he knew she was suffering under the weight of the stress, despite her best efforts to hide it. When she thought no one was paying attention to her and she let the mask slip for a bit, he could see the actual slump of her shoulders from the burdens she carried .

Last night, Eloise had asked him to swing by the publishing company and grab the scarf she’d left earlier in the day. His flat was closest, and they were set to leave for Aubrey Hall the next morning. She insisted she needed the scarf for the weekend.

On his way out of the building, he decided to swing by Penelope’s office to see if she was still there. Her door was slightly ajar and the only light in the room came from the small lamp on her desk. It was enough to see that her auburn curls were loosely tied at the base of her neck, where a few tendrils escaped and brushed against her shoulders. The tension in her frame was palpable, her body was hunched as she sat at her desk, phone pressed to her ear, her other hand covering her eyes.

“Gareth, you can’t come home. You need to finish your internship so you can graduate... I know,” she sighed softly into the phone. “But, G, your grandmother would never forgive you if you gave up this opportunity. If you come home, she’ll kick your sorry behind, you know that.” A pause. “Your mom and her siblings still aren’t answering my calls.”

Her hand gripped her forehead tighter. “Sorry, your ‘egg donor.’” 

She gave an amused scoff. “G... I get it. But I’ve got everything under control. Please stop worrying about what’s happening here and focus on what you need to do in Edinburgh, or I’ll sic Francesca on you.” 

Gareth said something that caused Penelope to chuckle weakly. “Yeah. Love you too. Bye.”

She let the phone slip from her hand, covering her face with both palms. Colin heard her quiet sobs even from where he stood, hidden just outside the door. His heart clenched, aching to go to her, but he knew it would do more harm than good. Any progress they’d made at Mondrich’s would evaporate if she caught him witnessing this vulnerable moment.

Once, he’d thought he knew her almost as well as he knew himself. But that time had passed. She was someone entirely new, and he was adrift, struggling to find his way back to her. What twenty-three-year-old Colin would have done for twenty-year-old Penelope wouldn’t work anymore, and he knew it. So, silently, he stepped back, retreating down the hallway. 

The next morning when he saw her, her expression emotionless, her composure unshaken.

Colin thought Anthony’s decision to move the talks to Aubrey Hall had come at the perfect time. He hoped the more relaxed atmosphere might give Penelope a chance to breathe, and it might even bring back some fond memories—memories that could help them reconnect.

As they pulled up to the grand estate, the sprawling grounds basking in the noon sun, Eloise parked the car and the three of them climbed out.

Dunwoody greeted them warmly, directing them upstairs to the family wing. Each headed to their old childhood rooms, even Penelope.

Colin unpacked quickly, freshened up, and then made his way downstairs to find Anthony, curious about his role in the coming discussions. Anthony welcomed him into the study with a smile.

"Your job this weekend," Anthony said, leaning back in his chair, "is to be charming."

Colin raised an eyebrow, feeling a strange emptiness at the directive. “Be charming? ” That was all? 

He learned that Daphne would be handling all the logistics, while Anthony and Eloise would handle the heavy lifting. Colin’s and Benedict’s task was to keep things light, keep conversations flowing smoothly, and divert tension if it arose. 

As Colin left the study, a sense of hollowness settled in his chest. What could he hope to contribute if his only role was to wear a smile and be entertaining? Even after all these years, and the success of his documentaries, he felt like he was still trying to find his place, to be known and seen as more than the charming Bridgerton. 

Not long after, the Bridgertons—and Penelope—gathered outside to greet the arriving delegation from Danbury’s. Colin played his part well, flashing his effortless smile, making easy conversation as they directed everyone into the house and escorted them to the guest rooms. It came naturally, just as it always did when he traveled the world, coaxing stories from strangers for his documentaries. Half his mind was on the guests, but the other half was firmly on Penelope.

If he hadn’t been paying such close attention to her, he might not have noticed something wasn’t right. Her smile was wide, she laughed easily, and she expertly smoothed any rough edges with the Danbury team. However, Colin could see beyond it. Her shoulders were too stiff, her movements too deliberate, and there was a strain just beneath the surface.

Colin realized for the first time how much pressure she must be under—constantly balancing Agatha’s vision, while knowing how much Anthony and the others were counting on the merger’s success. She was walking a tightrope, caught between two worlds. As an employee of Danbury’s, Agatha trusted her to safeguard the company’s interests. As an honorary Bridgerton, Penelope also knew the heart of the family with whom she was negotiating.

She wasn’t just navigating a business deal. She was holding two worlds together, playing both sides, with neither malice nor deceit. It was a delicate dance, and watching her now, Colin could see the toll it was taking on her.

He wondered if he was the only one who noticed the strain she was under. Eloise hadn’t mentioned it, and she would be the one who would see it best, since the two of them were still as close as they had ever been. Maybe if he spoke to his sister she could relieve some of his worry, or even better, give him an idea of how he could help. 

As they made their way to the room his mother still referred to as the “drawing room” - some antiquated word left over from the 1800’s - Colin tried to grab Eloise’s attention. However, she was snarling at Fife and her whole demeanor told him it would not be the best time to talk to her about anything. He decided to try catching her before dinner. 

Colin stood by the fireplace, sipping brandy, his patience thinning as he observed the clusters of guests around the room. Anthony and Kate were chatting with Jonathan Smythe, a board member open to the merger, sharing a laugh that created a light, carefree atmosphere. Meanwhile, Eloise was still locked in a low, intense conversation with Fife, and Colin decided to stay out of it; despite Fife's abrasive nature, he was likely to follow whatever Lady Danbury—and Penelope, by extension—dictated. Benedict floated smoothly from one group to another, while Daphne attended to the guest rooms and dinner preparations.

They were the core players tonight, carrying the weight of negotiations, while Colin’s role—to lighten the mood—left him feeling idle and inadequate. He scanned the room until his gaze settled on Penelope, deeply engaged with Radcliffe, a tough board member known for his stubbornness and probing questions. Watching Penelope’s measured tone and calm demeanor, Colin clenched his glass as Radcliffe pressed her.

Feeling he could help, Colin moved over, offering a light-hearted comment about Aubrey Hall’s picturesque gardens. “You know, Radcliffe,” he said with a grin, “you might find our gardens as compelling as these merger terms. Plenty of negotiations happen in those winding hedges.” As he finished his words, Penelope’s shoulders tensed. She flashed him a warning smile, her voice tight. “Thank you, Colin, but I think we were managing fine.” The sting of her dismissal hit hard, and he retreated, even more aware of his insignificance.

Needing something to occupy himself, he set off to find Daphne, hoping he could actually contribute somewhere.

The weekend continued in that vein. Colin offered polite, charming remarks to smooth over tense moments, especially when the family’s competitive spirit flared. In their first nightly debrief, Anthony assured him that his role was crucial, thanking him and Benedict for keeping conversations light. Still, Colin felt detached from the core of it all.

Anthony held him back after everyone else left the study. “Brother, what’s bothering you?”

Colin sighed. “Nothing. Everything is just fine.”

Anthony poured him two fingers of brandy and handed him the glass before pouring one for himself. “All right, liar.”

Colin sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. He finally looked up at his brother and admitted, “Feeling a bit out of sorts, I guess.”

Anthony raised an eyebrow but kept silent.

Restless, Colin put his drink down and stood to pace the room. “I’m doing what I was asked and being my charming, affable self. But how am I contributing to this merger or our business? What am I doing, Ant?” He turned and faced the window where the moon cast its pale glow over the estate. “Maybe I should’ve just stayed on the road, making docs and looking pretty for the camera.”

“Pretty? Huh.” Anthony downed his drink and set the glass down on his desk with a solid thunk. “That’s one way to put it.”

Colin rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Give me a hard time. It’s fine.” He turned to head for the door when Anthony’s voice stopped him.

“Col, why did you come home?” Anthony asked quietly.

Colin stood still for a moment before turning back and sitting in the chair he had just vacated. “The truth?”

“Always.”

“I was tired. I wanted to be home. I wanted family and friends. I wanted comfort. I wanted… roots.” Colin picked at an invisible piece of lint on his trousers, avoiding Anthony’s gaze. “I know we built BPC to make people aware of all these wonderful places outside of the UK, and my wanderlust made me the best person for the job. Meanwhile, you, Benedict, and Daphne stayed and did the hard work, growing it and handling all the messy things that come with running a business. We’ve gotten kudos, won some production awards—it’s all great. But… I’m looking for something more, and I don’t know where that leaves me at BPC. You guys have it all figured out here, and I’m just the guy who no longer wants the one job he had.”

Anthony stood and moved to the other side of the desk, leaning against it so he was closer to Colin. “Colin, your career—your path at BPC—isn’t over just because you’re ready to move on from documentaries.”

He gave Colin an appraising look. “Why do you think I’ve been pushing so hard for this merger?”

Colin’s brow furrowed. “What?”

Anthony spread his hands, his movements deliberate. “I’ve been your brother for thirty-three years, and I know you. I could tell from your voice when you’d call and the tone of your emails that the way you were living—constantly on the road—wasn’t working for you anymore. Mum noticed it, too. It was time to think about moving BPC forward without relying on you traveling to do it.”

“You didn’t say anything.” Colin’s voice held a hint of accusation. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Again, I’ve been your brother for thirty-three years.” Anthony’s smirk was brief but knowing. “You needed to come to terms with it yourself. If I’d brought it up, you would’ve fought me, pushed back just to be contrary. So, I waited. And I set things in motion when it seemed like you were ready.”

Anthony grew serious, the weight of his words settling in the room. “I knew things at Danbury’s weren’t going well. Mum mentioned it after her lunches with Agatha, and then I saw Kate watching Emma on Netflix. That’s when it all clicked. We could option the books, buy Danbury’s some time, and create a new direction for BPC that didn’t depend solely on your documentaries.”

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “But I didn’t realize how bad things had gotten until I started digging deeper. The Whistledown books were the only thing keeping Danbury’s afloat. Now, knowing about Agatha’s cancer, it all makes sense.” His hands lifted in a helpless gesture. “I adjusted the plan with that new information, and here we are.”

The pieces fell into place, and Colin felt a rush of understanding. It made sense now - Anthony’s push for this new direction. His brother had been paying attention, playing chess while everyone else played checkers.

Colin nodded and stood. “Thanks.” It felt insufficient, but he couldn’t find any other words to express everything he was feeling.

Anthony reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I know you’re feeling unmoored right now. But once the deal is done, there’ll be plenty to do. You know more about production than any of us, and we’re going to need your expertise. Plus, I thought you might consider directing when we start filming.”

Colin reached up and grasped Anthony’s forearm. “Good night, Ant.”

Anthony squeezed his shoulder and replied, “Good night.”

Lying in bed, Colin replayed their conversation, his mind unable to rest. It dawned on him that he’d been so wrapped up in his own doubts and desires that he hadn’t considered any of what Anthony had laid out for him. He’d been too focused on trying to prove himself, oblivious to the fact that if he’d simply reached out he would’ve seen that Anthony was quietly, steadily taking care of things, just as he always had.

Instead, he’d isolated himself, determined to figure everything out alone, to prove his worth, without recognizing that he’d only been able to do so much because he had the support of his family - because he was a Bridgerton.

The self-loathing hit hard. First, his blind spots with Penelope, and now this. 

I’m an idiot. 

Promising himself he’d do better, he rolled over, punching his pillow in frustration. 

Sleep was a long time coming.

Sunday morning and afternoon passed with more conversations, more in-roads. They gathered to eat a traditional Sunday roast prepared by a local chef that Daphne had hired just for the weekend. 

The evening was winding down, laughter and clinking glasses filling the air as the group gathered in the drawing room after dinner. The mood was light, and from Anthony’s assured glances, it seemed things were finally turning in their favor. By morning, they’d head back to London, and Colin felt a quiet sense of relief that the negotiations had gone well. He had watched Penelope carefully all weekend, but after she’d shut him down during her conversation with Radcliffe the first night, he’d kept his distance. Any chance to reconnect, to bring up memories of time spent together at Aubrey Hall, never came to be. 

He glanced around the room to see Penelope slip out the terrace doors quietly. He made a split-second decision to follow her, stepping into the cool night air, careful to stay just close enough to see her. She made her way toward the garden gazebo, her steps unhurried, shoulders slightly hunched as though weighed down by thoughts she hadn’t shared with anyone.

Penelope settled into one of the rocking chairs his mother had placed there. Colin watched for a moment, hesitant to intrude, but then he drew a breath and stepped forward. “Pen,” he called softly as he approached, his voice low.

Penelope glanced back, her expression unreadable but lacking the usual sharp edge. After a beat, she gestured toward the chair beside her. “Go ahead.”

He took the seat beside her, the night air cool but pleasant, and they sat in silence for a moment, just the faint creak of the chairs breaking the quiet. Finally, he spoke.

“How are you holding up?” he asked, his voice soft.

Penelope gave a slight, wry smile, eyes still fixed on the garden. “Oh, you know. It’s been a walk in the park. Agatha’s legacy, a whole board of skeptics, whispers about allegiances. Just the usual.” Her tone was breezy, but there was a sharp undertone he couldn’t miss.

Colin smiled gently. “From what I’ve seen, you’re handling it all as gracefully as she would.”

Penelope’s expression softened briefly, a flicker of wistfulness crossing her face. “I hope so. I keep wondering if I’m doing right by her. Some of the board members… Well, let’s just say they think my loyalty lies too much with your family and not enough with Danbury’s interests.” She glanced away, her shoulders tight.

“That’s ridiculous, Pen,” he said gently, leaning forward. “Anyone with half a brain can see how hard you’re fighting for her. For everything she built.”

Her expression softened for a heartbeat, eyes glistening as if she were teetering on the edge of tears. However,  that flicker of sadness shifted into something more guarded, a tightness in her jaw forming as the silence between them stretched. The fragile moment passed, and the emotion in her eyes shuttered, her guard snapping back into place.

“You’d think so,” she said flatly, dismissively.

Colin’s heart sank, obvious to the change. He wasn’t ready to let her retreat. “Pen, I know you’ve asked for space,” he said, voice steady, trying to find a foothold, “but I want to show you I’m here for you -”

Her eyes narrowed, a spark of irritation flaring within them as the simmering emotions broke through the surface. “You want to show me you’re here? Really, Colin?” The low, tight anger in her voice made him stiffen. “What exactly does that look like to you?”

He took a breath, struggling to stay calm as he readied himself to respond. “I just want you to know I’m here. For you. For whatever you need.”

Her face hardened, her eyes darkening with old, buried pain that had finally found its voice. “What I need?” she repeated, almost to herself, a bitter laugh slipping out that cut through the room like a knife. “After all this time, do you even know what I need? What I’ve ever needed?”

“Pen…” He couldn’t hide the pleading in his voice, feeling the delicate thread between them fray further. “I’m trying. I want to fix this. I thought maybe we were making some progress - ”

“Progress?” She shook her head, the mocking edge in her tone sharp and biting. “You think a few polite conversations and a boxing match fixes anything? That it makes up for everything?”

“That’s not what I meant,” he protested, his voice tinged with desperation as he tried to recapture the calm they’d shared minutes ago.

“Then what did you mean?” Her voice rose, no longer controlled, but trembling with the force of her emotion. The walls she’d kept so firmly in place began to splinter. “Do you honestly think you can just walk back into my life like nothing’s changed? Like I haven’t spent years trying to move on while you barely looked back?”

Colin’s frustration surged. “How was I supposed to know, Pen? You never told me anything was wrong! I emailed, I visited when I could -”

“Emailed?” Her laugh was sharp, filled with disbelief. “You think a few sporadic emails count as being there for someone? And when they were always about you ? That’s not friendship, Colin. That’s convenience.”

He opened his mouth to apologize, but Penelope pressed on, her voice trembling with the force of long-suppressed anger. “You left, Colin. You had your adventures, lived out your dreams, and I was here, doing my best to carve out a life for myself. Did you ever stop to ask if I was okay? If I needed you? Did you even notice that you were losing me? Because the worst part is, I don’t think you cared enough to realize I’ve been gone for a long time.”

The accusation struck him like a blow, rooting him to the spot. He wanted to reach out, to say something- anything - to take the pain out of her eyes. But she wasn’t done; the dam had burst, and years of hurt poured out, her voice raw with betrayal.

“For ten years, I was invisible to you, Colin. It started that night - ” Her voice wavered, her face twisting with a mix of anger and sadness. “That night I told you I loved you, and you dismissed me as if it meant nothing. As if I meant nothing.”

Colin’s heart pounded as he struggled to piece together the memory. What night could she - 

Her bitter smile told him everything before the realization even hit. “You don’t even remember, do you?” Her voice was cold and brittle, each word slicing through him. “One of the most important nights of my life, and for you, it was nothing. Just an awkward inconvenience because you were too busy chasing after my cousin. You looked at me like I had ruined everything by caring for you. That’s how little I meant to you.”

The pit in his stomach deepened, bile rising as the memory surfaced - her confession, his indifferent response, the way he had brushed her aside to keep things simple for himself. The shame was suffocating.

“Penelope,” he whispered, the weight of regret pressing down on him. “I -”

“Don’t.” She stepped back, eyes glistening with unshed tears as if his words could reopen every wound. “Don’t you dare apologize. After a decade of being disregarded, it means nothing now.”

“Penelope, it’s not like that,” he said, the words weak and hollow even to his own ears.

“It is like that,” she countered, her voice steady and cutting. “And now you’re back, and it’s still all about you - your guilt, your desire to make things right. But you don’t get it, Colin. I don’t need you to fix anything. I needed you to be there when it actually mattered.”

Her words landed with an unrelenting weight, guilt and shame crashing over him in waves. He reached out instinctively, as if he could hold on to her, find the right words to keep her from walking away. But her eyes were resolute, her expression unyielding.

“Just… leave me alone, Colin,” she said quietly, her voice only just breaking at the end. “You’ve made everything about you for long enough.”

And with that, she turned and walked away, the distance between them growing with each step until he was left alone in the garden, as if the ground had crumbled beneath him, leaving nothing but emptiness.

Chapter Text

Colin didn’t sleep after returning to his room from the gardens. Penelope’s words reverberated through his mind all night, sharp and unforgiving, stripping away every defense he’d built around himself. He knew he’d been a flawed friend—neglectful, but not maliciously so. However, her confession shattered that illusion, exposing a truth he could no longer ignore: he’d been a coward; a selfish, callous bastard, hiding behind excuses while he ran from everyone who’d ever mattered to him.

As dawn broke, dim and heavy, Colin felt the weight of everything he had done wrong. How he had pushed Penelope away, humiliated her by throwing her cousin in her face, and justified his absence by telling himself he was “finding his purpose.” All those excuses - years spent traveling, recording, producing - they had been shields he used to avoid facing his own insecurities and his fear of responsibility. He had fooled himself into thinking he was growing, learning, and becoming more of who he was meant to be. Now, he was forced to admit that it had all been a lie. Every new city, every new face, had been just another way to escape his legacy, his family, and Penelope.

Unable to stay confined within the walls of his bedroom, Colin slipped out as the sky began turning muted shades of red and purple. The grounds lay quiet and blanketed in a thick fog that clung to the trees, muting the world around him. He took slow steps down the familiar garden path, not seeing the walkway in front of him, but instead seeing all the places he’d gone wrong.

Penelope’s emails drifted through his mind, subtle shifts in tone he had long ignored. She had tried to tell him, to show him, how she was changing, how their friendship was unraveling with every month and year that he stayed away. He had dismissed it, blindly assuming she would always be there, waiting for his return, unchanging. She hadn’t waited, however. She had done what he had been unable to do. She’d built a life and discovered who she truly was, standing firmly on her own two feet.

With each step, he was forced to confront why he had left, why he had ignored the warning signs in Penelope’s messages, and why he had chosen to stay away. The pain he’d caused with his thoughtless fling with Marina, even after Penelope had bared her heart to him - all of it stood out, stark and unavoidable. He had told himself that she didn’t know her own feelings, as grief could mess with one’s perception of reality, and it was better to keep her at a distance until the fog of loss dissipated. He could now admit to himself it was to keep her love safely contained so it wouldn’t disrupt his plans or his precious freedom, or force him to admit to things he wasn’t ready to face.

Colin confronted his cowardice with each passing thought. He hadn’t left London to find himself; he had left to escape - from his family, from the pressure of living up to the legacy of a father everyone said he resembled, and from Penelope, whose loyalty had always felt like an expectation he couldn’t live up to. All his life, people had told him he was “just like his father,” and what they had meant as praise was a suffocating blanket of everything he feared he couldn’t be. His so-called journey of self-discovery had been a convenient lie, allowing him to run and hide. 

Penelope, on the other hand, had faced her hardships head-on. After her father’s death, she hadn’t disappeared. She had remained and held her family together, even as they gradually abandoned her in return. She had built something for herself - a career, a purpose, a respected place at Danbury. She had become part of his family in ways he, a blood Bridgerton, hadn’t managed in over ten years. The irony wasn’t lost on him: she had been everything he couldn’t bring himself to be - loyal, strong, and self-assured. Now here he was, finally ready to come home, excruciatingly aware that he was the one who no longer belonged.

As the sun rose, casting faint rays through the mist, Colin trudged toward where his father’s memorial was located. It wasn’t a place he visited often, as it was too painful most of the time to face the memory of a man he worshiped, who he missed daily. He knew he hadn’t lived up to the memory of Edmund Bridgerton and that he had hurt the people he loved in running from that failure. It was a sobering thought to realize that the last ten years had been a lie, cloaked in adventure and fun. 

As Colin stepped toward the stone engraved with Edmund’s name, thoughts of his family’s comparisons to his father echoed in his mind. Those comments had once filled him with dread, reminders of a legacy he’d feared he could never live up to. Now he was willing to admit that he could begin to see them differently - not as expectations to meet, but as reminders of the man he needed to become, not in anyone else’s eyes, but his own. A man who wouldn’t run from his mistakes but would face them head-on.

He couldn’t expect Penelope to forgive him, nor should he. She had every right to hold her anger, to never offer him the absolution he sought. Apologies and promises wouldn’t suffice. His choices - the years he neglected her, the wounds he inflicted under the guise of knowing better than she did - weren’t things he could erase.

He might spend his entire life trying to make amends and still never fully repair the damage he’d done. For so long, he had assumed he could return whenever he wanted, expecting her to always be there, going back to the easy friendship of their youth. Her explosive anger shattered that assumption. There was no guarantee he would ever earn his place in her life again, and if he were honest, he probably didn’t deserve it.

He would have to take each step forward knowing that every effort might never be enough, that he could spend years working toward reconciliation and still fall short. However, he would try, not because he expected her to forgive him, but because he owed her at least that much. 

Turning back toward the house, Colin felt the sting of humility, raw and unrelenting. For years, he had hidden behind charm, deflection, and his carefree persona. These habits would serve him no longer. If he was going to make things right, it wouldn’t be through grand gestures or hollow promises. It would have to be in the quiet, steady work of rebuilding trust - a journey that might lead nowhere, a path he would have to walk alone.

The conversations awaiting him would be difficult. He had let down his family, neglected his friends, and, most painfully, abandoned Penelope - the one person who had always seen him for who he was. She owed him nothing, and he understood that now. Whatever it took to make things right, he would do it, even if that meant supporting her from afar, even letting her go.

For now, he could only take the smallest steps. He would start by respecting her need for space, showing her through quiet, consistent actions that he was here, truly here, and ready to face whatever lay ahead. The road forward was uncertain, but for the first time, he was willing to walk it, even if all it led to was a better understanding of himself.

This was his chance to grow - not into the man he thought he should be, but into the man she had once believed he could become, even if she never saw it. The weight of his past choices was painful, but beneath it all was a glimmer of resolve he hadn’t felt before. He was done running.

Entering his room, Colin moved to his desk and picked up a sheet of paper. It took several tries to get the words right, to find a tone that neither assumed forgiveness nor made any demands but simply offered what peace he could. 

Pen,
I know an apology isn’t nearly enough, but I owe you that much, at least. I was selfish, thoughtless, and I hurt you in ways I’m only beginning to understand. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I don’t expect it. However, I want you to know that I’m here, willing to face what I’ve done and try to make it right, if you’ll allow me.
I won’t push or demand anything. But I’m done running, and will do anything I can to try and make things right.
Colin

He folded the note, placed it in an envelope, and sealed it. Making his way downstairs, he found Dunwoody and requested that a private breakfast be prepared for Penelope on her terrace, with the note to be delivered alongside it. Colin made it clear that Penelope could refuse either the note or the breakfast - or both. The choice was hers entirely.

Dunwoody gave him a long, considering stare, his silence filled with unspoken words, before he finally nodded.

Colin then texted Benedict, asking if he could ride back to London with him. Giving Penelope the space she needed, and showing her he could respect that space, was the first step toward proving that he was serious about making things right, if she ever allowed him the chance. 

The next couple of weeks passed quietly. Colin found a therapist and went to his first appointment. It was, admittedly, a bit underwhelming, but he recognized that he couldn’t drop thirty-three years of baggage at the therapist’s feet and expect them to fix him in an hour. There were a lot of questions and a lot of him talking - somewhat awkwardly at first, then with a strange urgency he hadn’t expected. He left with an appointment for the following week and a sense that maybe, just maybe, he was taking a step in the right direction, even if the path was unclear at the moment.

The rest of his time was spent at Bridgerton Production Company, getting to know the inner workings of a family business he had only known from a distance. Anthony, Benedict, and Daphne took turns answering his endless questions, each with varying levels of patience. They showed him around, introducing him to people he’d only met through email or brief Zoom calls during his years away. He found himself both impressed and intimidated by what they had built, a sprawling network of filmmakers, producers, and researchers - all connected by a sense of family he’d spent so long avoiding.

One afternoon, he caught Daphne in her office, sitting behind her desk with a well-worn novel in one hand and a notebook in the other. She was scribbling notes with a focused frown, occasionally glancing back at the book.

“Hey, Daph,” Colin said, knocking lightly on the doorframe. “You busy?”

Daphne looked up and smiled, setting down her pen. “Always, but never too busy for you. I’m just working on notes for the Whistledown adaptation - figuring out how to translate it to the screen.”

She gestured to the couch near the door. “Come in. What’s up, brother dear?”

Colin hesitated, glancing around the room as though the answers might be hiding in the corners. “Just… finding myself at loose ends, I guess. Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Daphne tilted her head, studying him with that perceptive gaze of hers. “You’ve been quiet since we were at Aubrey Hall. Not your usual brand of quiet either.”

Colin let out a self-deprecating chuckle. “And here I thought I was hiding it with all the questions I’ve been asking everyone.”

“Hmm,” Daphne murmured, leaning back in her chair, waiting patiently.

He rubbed a hand over his face, struggling to find the right words. “I’ve come to some… conclusions lately. And honestly, I’m not proud of them. I’m trying to figure out what to do, how to fix what can be fixed - and accept what can’t.”

Daphne’s expression softened, her voice gentle. “What kind of things?”

Colin glanced down, nervously picking at his pants. “Being back has been…uncomfortable, to put it mildly.”

Daphne raised an eyebrow, concern flickering in her eyes. “Uncomfortable how?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s hard to explain. Everything feels different, and not just because I’ve been away. It’s like I’m finally seeing things clearly - about myself, about the choices I’ve made. And it’s not a great picture.”

She watched him thoughtfully. “Self-reflection is not always pretty, that’s for sure.”

He gave a small, mirthless laugh. “Tell me about it. I keep thinking maybe I was better off not knowing.”

Daphne shook her head. “Avoidance only works for so long, Colin.”

He met her gaze, vulnerability slipping through. “Yeah, well, I’ve had a good run for ten years. So now that it’s time to deal with it, it’s overwhelming. Like I don’t even know where to start fixing things.”

“Growth isn’t easy or comfortable,” Daphne replied, a gentle, knowing smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “You’re not alone in this, Colin. We’ve all faced our messes. Anthony took years to find his footing; Benedict’s always wrestling with what it means to be ‘the artistic one’; and as for me - well, let’s say I’ve faced my own insecurities more times than I’d like to admit.”

Colin exhaled, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease slightly. “I’m trying to do what I can to move forward. I’m in therapy, trying to understand what went wrong, why I made the choices I did. But I’m scared that even if I change, it won’t make a difference. That I’m too late, especially with…”

He stopped, unsure if he was ready to bring up what had happened with Penelope.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Daphne said, her eyes narrowing. “With who?” 

Colin hesitated, then sighed. “Promise you won’t disown me?”

Daphne stood and came over to sit on the couch next to him. She took his hand in hers and said, “Spill.”

Taking a deep breath, Colin told her everything. He explained how he’d felt restless and ready to come home, how Benedict’s call had given him the excuse he needed but had also forced him to confront just how deeply he’d failed Penelope as a friend. He didn’t hold back as he described her revelation in the garden - and his own thoughtless dismissal of her feelings.

Daphne’s face remained impassive until he reached the part about Penelope’s confession. She let go of his hand and crossed her arms as her expression turned steely, a fierce anger flashing in her eyes that reminded him a bit too much of Anthony.

“You did what?” she said very, very quietly and Colin knew she was pissed . 

He held up his hands in surrender. “I know. Trust me, Daph, it took me ten years and her saying it out loud, but I finally understand how badly I screwed up.”

“Understatement of the year,” Daphne retorted, her voice sharp. “That was cold, Colin. What possessed you to be…to say…to do that? Especially to Penelope? She was your best friend! I thought you were in love with her!”

Colin blinked, stunned. “You…what? Thought I was in love with her?”

Daphne threw up her hands, exasperated. “Yes! We all did. It was obvious to everyone but you two! No one could understand why you suddenly started dating her cousin, or why you took off for Paris, then Milan, and just stayed gone.”

Colin stared at her, incredulous. “And no one thought to say anything to me?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Colin, we tried. Every time Mother compared you and Penelope to her and father, you’d roll your eyes. Every time any of us questioned you, you shut it down. You kept saying you knew what you wanted and that we needed to back off.” She sighed. “You do realize you’re the last to see things sometimes, right?”

Colin rolled his eyes. “So I’ve been told lately.”

Daphne nodded, a wry smile on her lips. “We figured you’d eventually come to your senses, realize what you’d lost, and come home ready to make things right.”

Colin sighed, gesturing around the office. “Well, here I am.”

Daphne shook her head, her expression softening. “We thought maybe you and Penelope had talked things over and chosen to stay friends. But now…” She trailed off, at a loss for words.

Colin’s gaze fell to the floor. “Yeah, I fucked up. It’s…not easy facing the truth about myself.”

Daphne reached over and squeezed his hand. “The fact that you’re taking responsibility now - that you’re willing to face what you didn’t before - is more than most people ever do. You can’t erase the past, Colin. But you can learn from it and carry those lessons forward.”

He nodded, taking in her words. “It’s strange, realizing how much I ran from all of this. From the family, from Penelope. I always thought that if I kept moving, if I stayed ‘out there’ doing something, I’d eventually figure myself out.”

“Or maybe you thought that if you went far enough, you’d find a version of yourself that didn’t have to face any of this,” Daphne said softly.

Colin winced but nodded. “Yeah. But it doesn’t work that way, does it?”

They sat in silence, letting his words linger in the air. Finally, Daphne spoke again. “Growth isn’t about wiping the slate clean. It’s about owning your mistakes and making amends where you can. That’s what real change looks like.”

Colin looked at her, a mix of gratitude and admiration in his gaze. “I think I needed to hear that.”

Daphne smiled, her eyes warm with understanding. “Just remember that we’re here for you - even on the hard days. Especially then.” She raised her eyebrow again and her voice went steely, “You screwed with our favorite non-Bridgerton, Colin. We may be here for you, but we’re here for her too. Don’t doubt this though, while we love you, we love her too. If what you’ve done comes out, you’re going to have more than one person ready to kick your ass.” 

“I know. I’ll deserve it,” Colin said sadly. “I deserve it now, really.” 

Daphne pursed her lips. “You might, but I’m not going to say anything. This will stay between us.” She paused and looked at him appraisingly. “I will say this though. You won’t win her over by falling over yourself and beating yourself up about everything. I always tell the kids that the best apology is changed behavior. You’ll need to show her you’re changed, that you’re facing things and making different decisions. Telling her won’t go very far at all and she’ll respect you less if you keep running after her telling her you’re sorry but do nothing else to try and make this right. Respect her. Respect what she tells you, and stop making decisions for her because you think you know best.” 

He nodded. “Thanks, Daph.” 

Daphne stood and said, “Anytime.” 

Following her lead, he stood, gave her a hug, and left her to her notes. 

Later that evening, Colin stood in the dimly lit library of Number Five. The room was a haven of rich mahogany shelves laden with volumes collected over generations, their spines worn and stories well-loved. The soft glow from the fireplace cast dancing shadows across the ornate rug, but Colin's gaze was fixed on the terrace doors, beyond which the night beckoned with an inky allure.

Daphne’s words echoed incessantly in his mind, refusing to be silenced.

"I thought you were in love with her!"

The declaration had struck him like a bolt of lightning, illuminating corners of his heart he had long kept in darkness. Had he been in love with Penelope? The possibility churned within him, unsettling yet undeniable. Memories flooded back—her laughter ringing like bells on a summer day, the way her eyes sparkled with mischief when they shared a private joke, the warmth that enveloped him whenever she was near.

He ran a hand through his tousled hair and sighed. Had love been there all along, patiently waiting for him to acknowledge it? Perhaps he had been unable—or unwilling—to face what that would have meant.

Daphne hadn’t been exaggerating when she mentioned their mother’s fond comparisons. Violet Bridgerton often reminisced about her own whirlwind romance with Edmund, delighting in the parallels she saw between their youthful love and the close bond Colin shared with Penelope. Childhood friends turned sweethearts; it was a tale as old as time, one that his mother cherished.

Colin had always brushed off those comparisons with a lighthearted laugh, assuring himself—and anyone who inquired—that he didn’t feel that way about Penelope. She was his confidante, his partner in mischief, his steadfast friend. To consider her as anything more felt... complicated.

Now, standing alone in the quiet of the library, he wondered if he had been lying to himself all these years. Maybe I didn’t want to admit I felt that way about my best friend.

The truth was more complex than simple denial. Being in love with Penelope at twenty-two would have meant staying in London, tethering himself to a future that both enticed and terrified him. It would have meant embracing the legacy of his parents—not just stepping into his father’s formidable shoes but also mirroring his romantic journey. The prospect had been daunting. The weight of expectation to become the man his father had been, to live up to the Bridgerton name in every conceivable way, had felt suffocating.

He had feared losing himself, becoming a mere reflection of his lineage rather than forging his own path. The idea of settling down, of roots digging deep into London’s familiar soil, clashed with the restless yearning that had driven him to explore the far reaches of the world.

Falling in love with Penelope would have changed everything.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t cherished her; perhaps he had cherished her too much. Enough that the thought of hurting her, of failing to be the man she deserved, had driven him to keep his distance. Subconsciously, he might have believed that by leaving, he was protecting them both from a future he wasn’t ready to face.

And he had ended up hurting her anyway. 

It was overwhelming. His mind buzzed with a whirlwind of thoughts—memories reexamined, emotions resurfaced. He felt as though he were piecing together a puzzle whose image had been clear to everyone but himself.

Needing air, Colin slipped through the terrace doors and stepped outside. The crisp evening embraced him, the cool breeze carrying the distant hum of the city. Above, the stars pierced the velvet sky, each one a tiny beacon of light in the darkness. The familiar scent of blooming jasmine from the garden below wafted up, grounding him in the moment.

He approached the wrought-iron railing, resting his hands atop the cool metal. The city lights sprawled before him—a living mosaic of dreams and possibilities he had spent years chasing yet never truly captured. Each twinkling light seemed to ask him the same question: What are you running from?

Colin gazed upward, the moon hanging heavy and luminous, casting a silvery glow over the world. It was as if the universe awaited his answer.

"I've been a fool," he whispered into the night. Admitting it felt both painful and liberating.

He thought of Penelope—her fiery spirit, her unwavering strength, the way her eyes held worlds of emotion she seldom let others see. He recalled the hurt in her voice during their confrontation, the rightful anger she harbored toward him. He had been blind to so much, but now his vision was clearing, and the truth stood before him, undeniable and urgent.

As the moon climbed higher, bathing him in its ethereal light, Colin made a silent vow.

"No more running."

The words resonated within him, a mantra and a promise. He was done hiding behind excuses and fleeing from shadows of his own making. It was time to face his fears, to confront the pain he had caused, and to strive toward becoming the man he wanted to be—the man Penelope deserved, even if she never forgave him.

A sense of resolve settled over him, solid and unyielding. The path ahead was uncertain and fraught with challenges, but for the first time in years, he felt ready to walk it.

He stepped back inside, the warmth of the library enveloping him. The familiar surroundings no longer felt like a cage but a starting point—a place from which he could begin to mend what was broken.

Colin knew that words alone wouldn’t be enough. It would take time, patience, and unwavering commitment to prove that he had changed. But he was prepared to do the work, no matter how long it took.

With renewed determination, he crossed the room and extinguished the lamp on the desk. The house was quiet, his footsteps muted against the plush carpet as he made his way upstairs. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but he welcomed them.

As he reached his bedroom door, Colin paused. A gentle smile tugged at the corners of his mouth—a hint of the optimism he once carried so easily. He was home, in more ways than one.

"Whatever comes next," he thought, "I'm ready."

And for the first time in a long while, he truly believed it.

Chapter Text

Penelope woke to the soft chime of her phone alarm, the morning light casting a warm glow through the yellow curtains of her room at Aubrey Hall. The events of the previous night played on a loop in her mind—the confrontation with Colin, the raw emotions she'd kept buried for years spilling out uncontrollably. She sighed, willing herself to find some semblance of peace.

A gentle knock at her door pulled her from her thoughts. "Yes?" she called, pushing herself upright.

The door opened slightly to reveal Dunwoody. "Good morning, Miss Featherington," he said with a polite nod. "I've brought a note for you."

"A note?" Penelope's brows knitted in surprise.

"Yes, miss. Mr. Colin asked me to deliver it to you. Also, he arranged for a private breakfast on the terrace, should you wish to enjoy it."

Penelope’s head tilted in confusion, but she tried to keep her expression impassive. Penelope accepted the envelope he extended, her name written in Colin's familiar handwriting. “Thank you, Dunwoody."

He inclined his head. "You're welcome, miss. Breakfast will be ready whenever you are."

As Dunwoody departed, Penelope stared at the envelope, a mix of apprehension and curiosity swirling within her. After a moment's hesitation, she carefully opened it and began to read.

Pen,

I know an apology isn’t nearly enough, but I owe you that much, at least. I was selfish, thoughtless, and I hurt you in ways I’m only beginning to understand. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I don’t expect it. However, I want you to know that I’m here, willing to face what I’ve done and try to make it right, if you’ll allow me.

I won’t push or demand anything. But I’m done running, and will do anything I can to try and make things right.

Colin

She read the note twice, her emotions a tumultuous blend of anger, sadness, and a flicker of something she wasn’t yet ready to name. His words were sincere, devoid of excuses. It was the acknowledgment she'd longed for, yet it didn't erase the years of hurt.

Setting Coln’s words aside, Penelope dressed for the day, choosing a soft blouse and tailored slacks. As she brushed her hair, she caught her reflection in the mirror—eyes a bit tired but resolute. The mask was back in place, ready to face whatever new challenges that were sent her way. 

Making her way downstairs, she followed the scent of fresh coffee to the terrace. A small table had been set for one, overlooking the sprawling gardens bathed in morning sunlight. An array of her favorite breakfast items awaited her: avocado toast topped with poached eggs, a bowl of mixed berries, and a steaming mug of Earl Grey tea with a hint of vanilla—her updated preference that few knew about.

She couldn't help but smile softly. Colin had done his homework and was able to find out her current favorites rather than relying on outdated memories.

As she settled into her seat, savoring a sip of tea, footsteps approached from behind. Turning, she saw Benedict strolling toward her, hands casually in his pockets.

"Morning, Pen," he greeted, his smile warm. "Mind if I join you for a bit?"

"Not at all," she replied, gesturing to the seat across from her.

He sat down, glancing at the spread. "Nice breakfast."

She gave a small nod. "Colin arranged it."

"Ah," Benedict said, a knowing look in his eyes. "Interesting."

Penelope raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. 

He met her gaze silently for a second before saying, "Anyway, I wanted to let you know that Colin and I are heading back to London in a few minutes."

"Oh, he’s not driving back with Eloise and I?" She tried to keep the surprise from her voice.

"He said he thought you two might need some bestie time," he explained. "Thought I'd let you know in case you needed anything before we left, or things to handle since we’ll be back in the city before you."

"Thanks," she said, stirring her tea.

Benedict studied her for a moment. "Is everything alright? You both seemed... off this weekend."

Penelope hesitated. Benedict had always been observant, his artist's eye catching nuances others missed. "Just a lot on my mind with the merger and everything."

He nodded slowly. "Sure. But you know, if there's anything you want to talk about—or not talk about—I'm around."

She offered a grateful smile. "Thank you, Benedict. I appreciate that."

He glanced at his watch. "Well, I won’t keep you. Safe travels back to London when you head out."

"You too," she replied.

As he walked away, Penelope sipped her tea, her thoughts swirling. Colin heading back to London with Benedict showed that he was respecting her need for distance. It was a considerate gesture, one she hadn't expected. Of course, he could just be avoiding her after last night, but based on the note and the breakfast he set up for her, she didn’t think so. 

She pondered whether she should feel guilty for the things she'd said to him, but quickly decided she had nothing to feel guilty about. He had spent ten years pretending nothing had changed, somehow expecting time to have stood still since he left. She would not feel bad about disabusing him of that thought and telling him exactly what his actions had done to her and their friendship. 

She finished her breakfast in contemplative silence, the tranquility of the gardens offering a temporary reprieve from the stress she was faced with daily. 

As she returned to her room to pack, she noticed the note once more. Carefully folding it, she slipped it into her bag. It was a reminder of this moment—a turning point, perhaps.

She would see. Words meant little to her without meaningful actions behind them. 

By midday, Penelope was ready to depart. She carried her suitcase downstairs, where Eloise was waiting in the car to head back to London. 

"Penelope!"

She turned to see Kate approaching, her expression warm. "Anthony and I will be back tomorrow, if you want to grab dinner this week." Kate reached out to squeeze her hand gently. “I know this weekend was all work, so maybe a couple of drinks as well?” 

Penelope smiled. “I’d love that.” 

“I’ll call you when we’re back.” She stepped forward and gave Pen a hug. “Safe travels.” 

Penelope returned the hug. "Same goes. And give Eddie a squeeze from Auntie Pen. I miss him.” 

She settled next to Eloise, who was already belting out Melissa Ethridge. Penelope took one last look at Aubrey Hall as it receded in the distance. The weekend had been emotionally draining, but she also felt a weight off her shoulders. There was something to be said about  being honest and vulnerable, and she wondered if there were other areas of her life where the weight would be lifted if she just…let it all out. 

Back in London, the relentless pace of daily life resumed, each day blurring into the next as Penelope threw herself into her work. The city bustled around her - cars honking, people chattering on their phones, the distant wail of sirens - but she moved through it, her focus narrowed to the towering stacks of paperwork and the ceaseless ding of incoming emails.

At the office, the atmosphere was charged with urgency. Penelope juggled the intricate details of the merger with BPC, her calendar filled with negotiation meetings, strategy sessions, and late-night conference calls. The legal jargon alone was enough to make her head spin, but she dissected each clause with meticulous care, determined to protect Agatha Danbury's legacy. 

Yet, the merger was only part of her burden. The day-to-day operations of the company also demanded her attention - manuscripts to review, authors to placate, marketing campaigns to oversee. The weight of responsibility pressed heavily on her shoulders, a constant reminder that failure was not an option.

Adding to her strain was Agatha's declining health. The chemotherapy treatments were taking their toll, sapping the older woman's strength but not her spirit. With Agatha unable to maintain her usual presence at the company, Penelope found herself stepping into more leadership roles, her decisions carrying the weight of the company's future.

One afternoon, as Penelope sat hunched over her desk reviewing financial projections, a soft knock interrupted her concentration.

"Come in," she called without looking up, her eyes still scanning the dense spreadsheet.

Her assistant, RaeAnne, entered hesitantly. "Penelope, the board meeting has been moved up to tomorrow," she said, her tone cautious.

Penelope's head snapped up, a flicker of irritation crossing her features. "Tomorrow? It was scheduled for next week."

"I know," RaeAnne replied, clutching her tablet to her chest. "But Mr. Radcliffe insisted. He said it's imperative to address certain concerns before the weekend."

Penelope suppressed a sigh, rubbing her temples to ward off the impending headache. "Of course he did," she muttered. Radcliffe was one of the more obstinate board members, always finding ways to complicate matters. "alright, please reschedule my afternoon appointments so we can prep."

RaeAnne nodded. "I'll take care of it."

As she turned to leave, RaeAnne hesitated. "Also, Mrs. Danbury asked if you could accompany her to her treatment this evening."

Penelope's expression softened. "Absolutely," she replied without hesitation. "Please let her know I’ll be there."

RaeAnne offered a sympathetic smile. "Is there anything else you need?"

"Could you arrange for the latest market analysis to be sent to my tablet? I'll review it at the clinic."

"Of course," RaeAnne said. She paused before adding gently, "Don't forget to eat something today."

Penelope managed a faint smile. "I won't. Thanks, Rae."

After RaeAnne left, Penelope leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes for a moment. The hum of the office buzzed around her - the muffled conversations, the distant ringing of phones - but she felt disconnected, as if a pane of glass separated her from the rest of the world.

Hours later, Penelope made her way to the oncology clinic, a modern building whose sleek design did little to mask the heaviness within. The sterile scent of antiseptic greeted her as she entered, mingling with the low murmur of conversations and the rhythmic beeping of medical equipment.

She found Agatha seated in a reclining chair, a colorful silk scarf wrapped elegantly around her head. Despite the pallor of her skin and the slight tremor in her hands, her eyes sparkled with undiminished vigor.

"Ah, there you are, my dear," Agatha greeted her warmly. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me."

"Never," Penelope assured her, bending down to press a gentle kiss to Agatha's cheek. "Traffic was a nightmare."

"When isn't it in this city?" Agatha quipped, her lips curling into a wry smile. "Sit, sit. Tell me how things are going at the madhouse."

Penelope settled into the chair beside her, carefully arranging the paperwork she’d brought along. "Where to begin? The board meeting has been moved up, Radcliffe is being difficult as usual, and the marketing team is in a tizzy over the new campaign."

"Sounds like a typical day," Agatha remarked, her gaze sharp. "And how are you holding up?"

"I'm managing," Penelope replied, though even to her own ears the words sounded unconvincing.

Agatha reached out and placed a cool hand over hers. "You look exhausted, Penelope. You're taking on too much."

Penelope attempted a reassuring smile. "It's just a busy period. Once the merger is finalized, things should calm down."

"Don't lie to me, dear," Agatha chided gently. "I've been in this business long enough to know that it never truly 'calms down.' You need to pace yourself."

"Easier said than done," Penelope murmured, her eyes drifting to the IV drip delivering a steady stream of medication into Agatha's veins. The sight was a stark reminder of time slipping away.

Agatha studied her intently. "Have you heard from my offspring?"

Penelope hesitated before answering. "I'm afraid not. I've left messages and sent emails, but there’s been no response."

A shadow passed over Agatha's face. "Typical. They only surface when there's something to gain."

"I'm sorry," Penelope offered softly.

Agatha waved a dismissive hand. "Nothing for you to apologize for. I’ve come to terms with the ways I’ve failed them as a mother. We reap what we sow, despite my attempts to make amends."

"I did speak with Gareth," Penelope added. "He's quite worried about you. He wants to come back from Edinburgh."

Agatha's expression softened at the mention of her grandson. "Sweet boy. But he needs to stay put and finish his internship. I won't have him derailing his future on my account."

"I’ve told him that, but he insists he doesn't mind," Penelope said.

"Of course he doesn't, but that's not the point." Agatha fixed her with a stern look. "Promise me you'll make sure he stays where he is."

Penelope nodded. "I promise. I'll keep reassuring him."

"Good." Agatha leaned back against the pillows, a hint of weariness creeping into her features. 

After a moment, she spoke again, her voice softer. “Now, tell me more about Radcliffe. Is he still as insufferable as ever?"

Penelope chuckled. "If possible, he's gotten worse."

Agatha rolled her eyes dramatically. "He was a thorn in my side for years. Perhaps it's time someone put him in his place."

"I'll see what I can do," Penelope replied with a grin.

As the conversation flowed, Penelope felt some of the tension ease from her shoulders. Despite her own struggles, being with Agatha always had a way of grounding her.

"Thank you for being here," Agatha said suddenly, her tone sincere.

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be," Penelope replied.

Agatha's eyes softened. "I mean it, Penelope. You've been a pillar of strength for me, especially when my own family has failed to step up. I just want you to know how much I appreciate you."

Penelope squeezed her hand gently. "And I appreciate you. You've been like family to me."

"Family," Agatha mused, a hint of sadness in her voice. "Sometimes the family we choose is stronger than the one we're given."

"Indeed," Penelope agreed quietly.

Agatha sighed softly, her gaze drifting to the window where the evening light cast long shadows. "I regret that my burdens have become yours. It's not fair, and I wish I could change it."

"Please don't feel that way," Penelope implored. "You've given me so much - opportunities, mentorship, friendship. I wouldn't be where I am without you."

"Perhaps," Agatha conceded. "But a part of me worries that I've held you back, tied you to responsibilities that should never have been yours. I’ve placed a lot of responsibility on your shoulders…too much, maybe."

"You haven't," Penelope insisted. "I chose to be here. I chose to help."

Agatha looked at her with a mix of pride and sorrow. "You're too kind for your own good. I know I’ve given you much to carry. Just promise me you'll not let my regrets become yours." 

Penelope felt a lump forming in her throat. "I promise."

"I think I might rest for a bit," Agatha said softly. 

"Of course," Penelope said, adjusting the blanket over Agatha's lap. "Do you need anything? Water? Another pillow?"

"I'm fine, dear," Agatha assured her. "Just stay a while."

"I will."

As Agatha drifted into a light sleep, Penelope sat back, allowing herself a rare moment of stillness. The soft hum of the clinic, the steady beeping of monitors, and the muted conversations around them created a cocoon of quiet.

Her mind, however, refused to settle. Agatha's acknowledgment of the burden she'd placed upon her both validated Penelope's feelings and stirred a deep well of emotion. She hadn't realized how much she needed to hear those words - how much she craved recognition for the weight she carried.

She thought of the mounting responsibilities, the endless expectations, and the gnawing sense of isolation that had taken root within her. She considered Agatha's words about taking risks, and living life fully.

Colin's face flickered in her thoughts - his note and gestures at Aubrey Hall, keeping his distance as she asked. He hadn’t pushed, hadn’t spoken more than a few words to her since their return to London. She wondered if he had given up on trying to make amends, if he took her at her word that they couldn’t go back to what they had once been. There was part of her relieved by that thought, knowing that she was a completely different person than she had been when they had been friends before, and there was no going back. 

And yet, there was a very small, but loud, part of her that missed being that close to someone, knowing that they knew you in and out, and you were safe in their presence. She missed that part of her relationship with Colin, how he had made her feel safe and cared for once upon a time.

Missing that however, didn’t mean she was ready to forgive and forget. She no longer trusted him not to break her heart again, and she wasn't sure she could withstand another fracture.

"You're deep in thought," Agatha's voice startled her.

Penelope blinked. "I didn't realize you'd woken up."

"Only just," Agatha replied, her eyes still closed. "Care to share what's on your mind?"

"Just... everything," Penelope said evasively.

"Ah, 'everything.' A heavy burden indeed." Agatha opened her eyes, fixing Penelope with a penetrating gaze. "You can't pour from an empty cup, my dear."

"I'm fine," Penelope insisted softly.

"No, you're not," Agatha countered. "And that's alright. It's okay to admit when you're struggling."

Penelope felt the sting of tears but blinked them away. "I just don't want to let anyone down."

"You won't," Agatha assured her. "But you'll do more harm than good if you run yourself into the ground."

A silence stretched between them, filled with unspoken understanding.

"Promise me something," Agatha said finally.

"What is it?"

"Promise me you'll take some time for yourself. Even if it's just an afternoon. Do something that brings you joy."

Penelope hesitated. "I don't even know what that is anymore."

"Then it's high time you found out," Agatha said firmly. "Consider it an assignment."

A reluctant smile tugged at Penelope's lips. "You're incorrigible."

"I've been called worse," Agatha replied with a wink.

The nurse approached then, checking the IV and making notes on Agatha's chart. "Everything looks good, Mrs. Danbury. Just a little while longer."

"Thank you," Agatha said graciously.

Penelope glanced at her watch, noting the late hour. "I should let you rest."

"Nonsense," Agatha protested lightly. "But I suppose you have a million things to attend to."

"They can wait," Penelope said, though she knew that wasn't entirely true.

"Go," Agatha urged. "I'll be fine. Besides, I have a handsome doctor to flirt with," she added mischievously.

Penelope laughed softly. "alright. But I'll check in on you tomorrow."

"I look forward to it," Agatha said warmly. "And remember your assignment."

"I'll try," Penelope promised.

As she made her way out of the clinic, the cool night air greeted her, carrying the scent of impending rain. She paused on the steps, looking up at the cloudy sky. The city lights cast a soft glow against the darkness, and for a moment, she felt utterly alone amid the bustle of London.

Her phone buzzed, pulling her from her reverie. It was a text from Eloise.

Featherington, are you alive out there?

She typed a quick response.

Alive and well. 

A reply came almost instantly.

Haven't seen you in a few days. Dinner soon? 

Penelope smiled, but her thumbs hovered over the screen trying to think of a time when she could free up her schedule to meet Eloise. 

I'll let you know. Miss your face. 

There was a pause before her next message.

I'll ask Rae to find a spot for me on your calendar. Miss your face more. 

Not avoiding, juggling. Love you. 

She slipped the phone back into her pocket, a knot of anxiety settling in her stomach. Agatha was right - she needed to find a way to take a break. 

As she walked slowly, ordering an Uber on her phone, a familiar voice called her name.

"Penelope?"

She turned to see Colin approaching, concern etched on his face. "Colin? What are you doing here?"

"I was meeting with an old friend nearby and saw you leaving the clinic," he explained. "Were you with Agatha?"

"Yes," she said softly.

He nodded, his eyes searching hers. "Do you need a ride home?"

She hesitated. The prospect of his company was both comforting and unsettling. "I don't want to trouble you."

"It's no trouble," he assured her. "Please."

After a moment, she nodded. "alright. Thank you."

The car ride was quiet, the hum of the engine and Coldplay on the radio filling the silence. Penelope gazed out the window, watching the city blur past.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Colin asked gently.

She turned to face him, his expression tugging at her defenses. "Just tired," she admitted.

He hesitated before speaking. "You don't have to do everything alone, you know."

She offered a faint smile. "So I've been told."

"Maybe it's time to listen," he suggested softly.

She looked away. "Maybe."

As they pulled up to her apartment building, Colin turned off the engine. "If you need anything..."

"I'll let you know," she finished for him. "Thank you for the ride."

He nodded. "Anytime."

She stepped out of the car, hesitating before closing the door. "Goodnight, Colin."

"Goodnight, Pen."

Watching him drive away, she felt a mix of emotions - gratitude, confusion, a lingering sadness. His presence stirred something within her, a glimmer of connection she thought she'd lost.

In her apartment, the quiet was palpable. She kicked off her shoes and sank onto the sofa, exhaustion seeping into her bones. Agatha's words echoed in her mind, along with Colin's gentle insistence.

"Maybe it's time to listen."

She reached for her phone to call Eloise, to put in some effort and confirm a definite time for dinner, but it went right to voicemail. 

Instead of leaving a message, she set the phone aside and closed her eyes, falling into a restless sleep. 

In the following days, Penelope tried to heed both Colin and Agatha’s words, but the demands at work only intensified. Agatha's condition took a turn, requiring more of Penelope's attention both at the hospital and the office.

Sleep became a luxury she couldn't afford. Meals were often forgotten or skipped entirely. The weight of everything pressed down on her, each day a struggle to keep her head above water.

One afternoon, as she was preparing for a crucial presentation to the board, RaeAnne entered her office with a concerned expression.

"Penelope, you don't look well. Maybe you should rest before the meeting."

"I'm fine," she insisted, organizing her notes. "This presentation has to be perfect."

RaeAnne hesitated. "At least eat something. I brought you a sandwich."

"Thanks,” she said off handedly, her focus already back on the documents.

During the presentation, Penelope felt a persistent throbbing in her temples. The room seemed unusually warm, and the words on the slides blurred. She pushed through, determined to finish.

As she concluded, Radcliffe began his barrage of questions, each one more pointed than the last.

"Your projections are optimistic at best," he scoffed. "Do you really believe these numbers are achievable?"

Penelope opened her mouth to respond, but the room tilted. She gripped the edge of the podium, her knuckles white.

"Ms. Featherington?" someone called out.

The last thing she saw was the concerned faces of the board members before darkness consumed her.

When she awoke, she was lying on a couch in a quiet office. The muffled sounds of voices reached her ears.

"She needs to see a doctor," RaeAnne's voice was insistent.

"We'll talk to her about it," Colin replied firmly.

Penelope tried to sit up, and immediately Colin was at her side.

"Pen, don’t sit up," he said softly. "Just stay put for a second, okay?"

She looked up at him, too weary to protest. "What happened?"

"You fainted during the meeting," he explained. "Gave everyone quite a scare."

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Great. Just what I needed."

He offered a gentle smile. "It's a sign that you need to slow down."

She sighed, her defenses weakened. "I don't know how."

"Let me help," Colin offered, his voice steady yet gentle. "We can delegate some of your workload. RaeAnne and I can handle the immediate tasks."

Penelope shook her head stubbornly. "I can't ask you to do that. I'm sure you have things to do at BPC. You don't even work here," she replied, crossing her arms defensively.

"You're not asking; I'm offering," he corrected softly. "My siblings have BPC covered, and Anthony has had me on Danbury territory to help ease any merger worries that come up with the employees or board, so I'm here anyway." He hesitated for a moment before reaching out to lightly touch her hand. "Please, Pen. You don't have to do this alone."

She looked down at his hand over hers, the warmth of his touch both comforting and unsettling. Meeting his gaze, she saw genuine concern etched in his eyes, and something else - sincerity that she hadn't seen in years. After a long moment, she sighed and nodded. "Alright."

Relief washed over his features, and he offered a small smile. "Good. Now, let's get you home."

The next morning, Penelope arrived at the office determined to put the previous day's events behind her. She was greeted by sympathetic smiles and polite inquiries about her well-being, which she brushed off with practiced ease.

Settling into her chair, she opened her calendar to plan out the day's tasks. The sheer number of meetings and deadlines was overwhelming, but she steeled herself to tackle them head-on.

A soft knock at her door pulled her from her thoughts. "Come in," she called, not looking up.

RaeAnne entered cautiously, followed by Colin. Both wore expressions of concern that set Penelope on edge.

"What is it?" she asked, glancing between them.

RaeAnne took a hesitant step forward. "We wanted to check on you, see how you're feeling."

"I'm fine," Penelope replied curtly, returning her gaze to her computer screen. "Just a bit busy."

"Penelope," Colin began gently, "about yesterday - "

"I don't want to talk about it," she interrupted, her tone firm.

"That's exactly why we need to," RaeAnne insisted softly. "Fainting in front of the board is serious. We're worried about you."

Penelope's jaw tightened. "I appreciate your concern, but I assure you it was an isolated incident. I hadn't eaten properly, that's all."

"Which is part of the problem," Colin pointed out. "You're pushing yourself too hard and neglecting your health."

She shot him a sharp look. "I have responsibilities that require my attention."

"Penelope, you can't fulfill them if you're unwell," RaeAnne countered. "Please, consider seeing a doctor. Just to make sure everything is okay."

Penelope sighed, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "I don't have time for doctor's appointments."

Colin grimaced. "Pen, this isn't something to ignore."

She stood up abruptly, pacing behind her desk. "Why are you both pressing this? I said I'm fine."

"Because we care about you," RaeAnne said earnestly. "And it's not just about you - Agatha relies on you, the company relies on you."

Penelope paused, her back to them. The mention of Agatha struck a chord.

Colin stepped closer. "Think of it as an investment in yourself. You've been there for everyone else, but if you don't take care of yourself, you won't be able to do that anymore."

She turned slowly to face them, arms crossed defensively. "I just... I don't like doctors."

"We understand," RaeAnne replied softly. "But it's better to be safe. Ignoring this won't make it go away."

Penelope glanced between them, the weight of their concern pressing down on her. "Fine," she relented quietly. "I'll make an appointment."

A collective sigh of relief filled the room. "Thank you," Colin said sincerely.

"Do you need any help scheduling it?" RaeAnne offered.

She shook her head. "No, I'll handle it."

"Alright," Colin agreed. "But if you need anything, we're here."

She gave a small nod. "I appreciate it."

"Is there anything else we can do for you right now?" RaeAnne asked.

Penelope considered for a moment. "Actually, could you both help with the final edits on the marketing proposal? I want to make sure it's ready for presentation."

"Absolutely," RaeAnne replied promptly.

"Consider it done," Colin added.

"Thank you," Penelope said, a genuine note of gratitude in her voice.

As they left her office, closing the door softly behind them, Penelope sank back into her chair. The idea of visiting a doctor unsettled her, but deep down, she knew they were right. She couldn't afford another incident, not with so much at stake.

That afternoon, Penelope mustered the courage to call her doctor's office.

"Dr. Reynolds' office, how may I assist you?" the receptionist answered cheerfully.

"Hello, this is Penelope Featherington. I'd like to schedule an appointment as soon as possible."

"Of course, Ms. Featherington. Let's see - we have an opening tomorrow at 10 a.m. Does that work for you?"

She glanced at her packed schedule and sighed. "Yes, that will be fine."

"Great. We'll see you then."

The next morning, Penelope sat in the waiting room of Dr. Reynolds' office, tapping her foot impatiently. The antiseptic smell and soft muzak did little to calm her nerves.

"Ms. Featherington?" the nurse called.

She stood up, smoothing her skirt. "Yes."

"Right this way, please."

In the examination room, Dr. Reynolds greeted her with a warm smile. "Good afternoon, Penelope. What brings you in today?"

She took a seat, folding her hands in her lap. "I fainted yesterday. At work."

He raised an eyebrow. "I see. Have you experienced any dizziness or fainting spells before?"

She shook her head. "No. It was a one-time thing."

He nodded, jotting down notes. "Tell me about your typical day. Are you under a lot of stress?"

She gave a wry laugh. "You could say that."

"How about your eating habits? Are you skipping meals?"

She hesitated. "Sometimes. When things get busy."

He looked at her kindly. "Penelope, your body needs fuel to function properly, especially when you're under stress."

"I know," she admitted softly.

After a thorough examination and some routine tests, Dr. Reynolds sat back down. "Physically, you're in good health. Your blood pressure is a bit high, likely due to stress. But there's nothing immediately concerning."

She exhaled, relief washing over her. "That's good to hear."

"However," he continued, "I am concerned about your stress levels and lack of self-care. If you continue on this path, you risk more serious health issues down the line."

She looked down at her hands. "I don't have much choice. There's a lot depending on me."

"Penelope, you're no good to anyone if you're not taking care of yourself," he said gently. "I recommend finding ways to manage your stress - regular meals, adequate sleep, perhaps even speaking with a counselor."

She nodded absently. "I'll try."

He handed her a pamphlet. "These are some resources that might help. Don't hesitate to reach out if you need anything."

"Thank you, Doctor."

Then it was back to the office, but this time she remembered to grab dinner. 

Over the next week, Colin made good on his promise to help. He coordinated with RaeAnne to redistribute some of Penelope's tasks and ensured that she wasn't left alone late at the office.

Penelope bristled at the interference, but gradually she began to accept the support. Small changes started to make a difference - she took breaks, ate meals, and even managed a full night's sleep once or twice. 

One evening, as she was leaving the office at a reasonable hour for once, she ran into Colin in the lobby.

"Heading out?" he asked with a smile.

"Yes. Thought I'd take your advice and call it a night," she replied.

"Glad to hear it. Care to join me for dinner? Just as colleagues," he added quickly.

She considered it for a moment. "I appreciate the offer, but I think I'll just head home."

He nodded understandingly. "No problem. Maybe another time."

As she walked away, she felt a pang of regret but pushed it aside. She wasn't ready to blur those lines.

Later that evening, a knock at her apartment door startled her. She opened it to find no one there, but a neatly wrapped package sat at her feet. Inside was her favorite meal from a small, Indian restaurant she and Eloise had frequented since university  - chicken tikka masala with garlic naan. There was also a bottle of sparkling water. There was a small piece of paper attached with Colin’s handwriting. “Please eat.” 

A small smile tugged at her lips. The gesture was thoughtful and unobtrusive, respecting her request for space, but Penelope also saw it for what it was for - finding a way to make sure she was taken care of. 

Over the next few days, she began noticing other small things. At meetings, her preferred chair - the one that offered the best vantage point of the room - was always available. Initially, she thought Rae had arranged it, but one morning she arrived early to see Colin adjusting the seating.

He looked up, slightly startled. "Oh, good morning."

"Good morning," she replied, eyeing him curiously. "You're here early."

"Just thought I'd get a head start," he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

She noticed a cup of coffee on the table at her preferred seat. "Is that...?"

"Almond milk latte with a dash of cinnamon," he said, sliding it toward her. "I remembered you liked it."

"Thank you," she said softly, touched by the gesture.

He shrugged casually. "No problem."

Another afternoon, she passed by the break room and saw him engrossed in a book. Recognizing the cover, she paused. "Doing a bit of light reading?" she asked. 

He glanced up, a bit sheepish. "Caught me," he admitted. "I thought I'd give them a try."

"And?" she prompted.

"They're... surprisingly good," he confessed. "Well-written, witty, and the characters are compelling."

She raised an eyebrow. "Surprisingly?"

He chuckled. "Alright, you were right. I shouldn't have dismissed them without reading them first."

"Apology accepted," she said with a teasing smile.

He closed the book, his expression turning serious. "I meant what I said before. I'm sorry for how I spoke about them - and for a lot of other things."

She nodded, her gaze meeting his. "Thank you."

As the days continued to pass, Penelope couldn't help but notice the subtle ways in which Colin integrated himself into her daily routine. He was respectful of her space, yet consistently present - a steady, reassuring force amid the chaos of her life.

One afternoon, as she sat at her desk sifting through a mountain of manuscripts, her phone buzzed with a calendar reminder: Tea with Colin - optional. She stared at it, surprised. She didn't recall scheduling any meetings with him.

A moment later, an email popped up from Colin:

No pressure at all. Thought you might need a break. If not today, perhaps another time. Take care of yourself.  - Colin

She considered declining but hesitated. The idea of stepping away from her desk, even briefly, was tempting. With a sigh, she stood up and grabbed her coat.

In the café across the street, she found Colin seated at a corner table, two cups of tea steaming between them. He looked up as she approached, a hopeful expression crossing his face.

"You came," he said, standing awkwardly before pulling out a chair for her.

"I had to stretch my legs," she replied lightly, taking a seat. "And tea sounded nice."

They settled into a comfortable silence, the ambient hum of the café filling the gaps. Penelope wrapped her hands around the warm cup, savoring the fragrant aroma.

"How have you been feeling?" Colin asked gently.

"Better," she admitted. "Trying to take things one day at a time."

He nodded thoughtfully. "That's good to hear."

She glanced at him, noticing the genuine concern in his eyes. After a moment, she took a steadying breath.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," he said, meeting her gaze.

She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "I appreciate everything you've been doing lately - the coffee, making sure I eat, checking in with me. I’m wondering though... what happens if I can’t be your friend again?"

He looked at her, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. "What do you mean?"

She met his gaze steadily. "You're making an effort, and I see that. But…I’m juggling a lot right now and I don’t know if I can give you what you want.” 

He was silent for a moment, absorbing her words. "Pen, I don't expect anything from you," he said quietly. "I'm not doing this with the expectation of forgiveness or to resume our old friendship. I'm doing this because I care about you and because I want to help you however I can."

"And if I can't give you what you're looking for?" she pressed. "Will things change?"

He shook his head. "No. My actions aren't conditional. I want to support you in any way you'll allow, even if it's just as colleagues or... friendly acquaintances. I’m willing to be whatever you’ll let me be to you."

She studied him, searching for any hint of insincerity. "So you're saying that even if I can't forgive you, you'll still be here?"

"Yes," he affirmed. "I'll still be here. I won't disappear on you again."

She looked down at her tea, swirling the liquid thoughtfully. "It's hard for me to trust that."

"I understand," he replied softly. "I know I have to earn that trust back, if that's even possible."

She sighed. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, I don't know where this is going. I have a lot on my plate, and I can't promise anything."

"I don't expect you to," he said. "All I want is the opportunity to prove that I'm not the person I was before. That I can be better."

She raised her eyes to meet his. "Actions speak louder than words, Colin."

He offered a small, earnest smile. "Then I'll just have to keep showing you through my actions."

A silence settled between them, filled with unspoken understanding.

"Thank you for being honest," she said finally.

"Thank you for giving me the chance to be," he replied.

She took a sip of her tea, letting the warmth soothe her. "I can't promise that we’ll ever go back to what we were. Or even get close to that again."

"I know," he acknowledged. He paused and took a deep breath. “Maybe it’s not about going back. Maybe we can start over. Learn who we are now, and build something different.” 

Penelope swallowed hard, considering his words carefully. “I…I just don’t know.” 

He nodded slowly. "Okay."

They shifted the conversation to lighter topics - the latest industry news, a new café that had opened nearby, humorous anecdotes from work. For a moment, it felt almost... normal.

As they prepared to leave, Colin hesitated. "Would it be alright if we did this again sometime?"

She considered his question. "Maybe. Let's keep things as they are for now."

"Of course," he agreed readily. "No pressure."

She offered a faint smile. "Take care, Colin."

"You too, Pen."

As she walked back to the office, Penelope reflected on the conversation. She hadn't let him off the hook, and she was clear about her boundaries. Yet, she couldn't deny that a part of her appreciated his willingness to accept whatever she was able to offer - even if it was just guarded cordiality.

Later that night as she was typing up yet another email, her phone pinged. There was a text from Colin. 

Thanks for tea today. 

She didn’t reply, but allowed herself a brief smile. His gestures were thoughtful, unobtrusive, and he seemed genuine in his intent.

Perhaps she was beginning to see him in a new light - not as the friend who had left her behind, but as someone striving to make amends. She wasn't ready to forgive or forget, but maybe she could acknowledge his efforts.

She wasn't sure what the future held, and she couldn't afford to devote much energy to figuring it out amidst her current responsibilities. For now, however, she could accept his support at face value, remaining cautious yet open to the possibility that people could change.

As she immersed herself back into work, a subtle sense of ease settled over her. The weight on her shoulders felt slightly less burdensome, knowing she didn't have to carry it entirely alone.

Perhaps this was the beginning of understanding - not forgiveness, not rekindled friendship, but a tentative step toward something new.

Penelope took a deep breath, her focus returning to the tasks ahead. Whatever happened next, she would face it on her terms.

Chapter Text

Colin stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of his new flat, gazing out at the London skyline as dusk bathed the city in hues of amber and gold. The city stretched before him, with lights flickering as day turned to night. The hustle of the streets below mirrored the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in his mind. He raised his mug to his lips, sipping coffee that had long since gone lukewarm, but he barely noticed. His thoughts were consumed by Penelope.

Their conversation earlier that day replayed endlessly in his mind—the way her eyes searched his when she questioned whether he would stick around without the promise of friendship, the lingering hesitation in her voice when she declined to make firm plans with him. He wasn't sure if it was progress, but it was something - a crack in the walls she'd built between them. Whether it could or would lead anywhere remained to be seen.

Turning away from the window, he surveyed the living area, cluttered with moving boxes - some half-empty, others still sealed. The flat felt impersonal and cold, devoid of the warmth that made a place feel like home. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Amid the chaos, a familiar frame caught his eye peeking out from an open box labeled "Photos." He knelt down and gently pulled it out.

It was a candid shot of the Bridgerton siblings - and Penelope - from years ago at one of their family gatherings. Penelope was laughing brightly at something Eloise had said, her eyes alight with unbridled joy. Colin traced the outline of her smile with his thumb, a wistful expression crossing his face.

Setting the photo down carefully on the mantelpiece, he felt a renewed determination stir within him. He resolved to continue finding ways to ease her burdens without overstepping, to prove through actions that he was there for her.

His phone buzzed, pulling him from his musings. A message from Benedict flashed on the screen:

Heard about Penelope fainting. Everything alright?

Colin typed back quickly:

Physically, she's okay. Just pushing herself too hard.

Benedict's reply was immediate:

Sounds about right. Let me know if she needs anything. 

Colin smiled. His brother sometimes got the short end of the stick as the non-serious, artsy Bridgerton, but he was consistently there if you needed him. 

Will do. Thanks.

He sank down onto the only piece of furniture in the room, a large leather sectional, the cushions sighing under his weight. His gaze drifted back to the photo, and he sighed. Since Pen had grudgingly shared that her fainting was due to exhaustion and lack of nutrition rather than something more serious, his mind focused on what had been troubling him most since their trip to Aubrey Hall.

Radcliffe was becoming a problem. Not just for Penelope - though Colin had to restrain himself from decking the smug bastard every time he spoke to her as if she were incompetent - but for the merger itself. Rumors had reached Anthony that Radcliffe was not merely asking inconvenient questions, but was actively attempting to sabotage the deal. If that were the case, there was likely someone waiting in the wings, ready to swoop in and acquire Danbury Publishing at a fraction of its value.

During a recent BPC meeting, they had discussed these concerns in depth. Anthony had suggested that Colin's near-constant presence at Danbury Publishing could be beneficial, not only to support Penelope but also to keep an eye on any undercurrents that might threaten the merger. However, Colin knew that involving Penelope from the outset was crucial. He didn't want to make decisions on her behalf or keep her in the dark.

"Won’t make that mistake again," he thought. Picking up his phone, he sent her a text:

Can we meet tomorrow morning? There's something important I'd like to discuss with you.

Almost immediately, a reply came through:

Sure. My office at 9 AM?

Perfect. See you then.

The next morning, Colin arrived at Danbury Publishing a little before nine. He made his way to Penelope's office, pausing briefly to greet staff members who acknowledged him with polite nods.

"Good morning, Mr. Bridgerton," RaeAnne greeted him as he approached.

"Morning, RaeAnne. Is Penelope in?"

"Yes, she's expecting you. Go right in."

He knocked lightly on the door before entering. Penelope looked up from her desk, a hint of curiosity in her eyes.

"Colin, come in," she said, setting aside a stack of papers.

"Thanks for making time to see me," he replied, closing the door behind him.

She gestured to the chair opposite her. "Have a seat. What's on your mind?"

He took a deep breath, deciding to be direct. "I wanted to talk to you about Radcliffe."

Her expression hardened slightly. "What about him?"

"Anthony’s heard some concerning things," he began carefully. "He’s hearing rumors that Radcliffe might be trying to sabotage the merger. We thought it might be best if we worked together to look into it."

She leaned back in her chair, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Go on."

"I want to help, but only if you're comfortable with it," he continued. "I don't want to overstep or make decisions without you. This is Agatha’s company, under your leadership."

She regarded him for a moment, weighing his words. "I appreciate you bringing this to me. I've had my suspicions about Radcliffe for a while now, but with everything going on, I haven't had the bandwidth to dig deeper."

"Then let's do it together," he offered. "We can combine resources, share information, and figure out how to handle this."

She regarded him seriously for a moment before giving him a small smile. "United front?” 

He returned her smile. “That, and this way everyone’s on the same page from here and BPC. This merger will help both our companies, and the more that people know we’re together in this, the better it’s going to look to anyone still having doubts. Plus, two heads - or more - are better than one.” 

She stood up, moving to a whiteboard on the wall. "Let's lay out what we know."

Over the next hour, they brainstormed, listing out observations, incidents, and any peculiar behavior they had noticed from Radcliffe. Penelope noted his constant undermining in meetings, his resistance to new initiatives, and his habit of sowing doubt among other board members.

"He seems intent on making me appear incompetent," she said, frustration evident in her tone. "Ever since Agatha stepped back, he's been even more aggressive."

Colin nodded. "Anthony mentioned that Radcliffe might have connections with Weston Enterprises. If that's true, he could be positioning himself to facilitate a takeover."

Penelope's eyes widened slightly. "Weston Enterprises? That would be disastrous. They have a reputation for gutting companies for profit."

"Exactly," Colin agreed. "We need to find concrete evidence of his actions."

She tapped the marker against her chin thoughtfully. "We can start by reviewing board meeting minutes, financial reports, and any correspondence that might indicate his intentions."

"I can reach out to some of the staff and board members discreetly," Colin offered. "See if they've noticed anything unusual."

She looked at him appreciatively. "That would be helpful. I'll handle the internal documents and see what I can uncover."

"Good," he said. "And we'll keep each other informed every step of the way."

She met his gaze, a hint of gratitude in her eyes. "Thank you for bringing this to me, Colin, and not trying to figure this out without me. It means a lot."

He smiled softly, understanding what she wasn’t saying. He had made decisions for her in the past, ignored her, treated her like she wasn’t there. He wasn’t making the same mistakes again and she recognized that. 

“We’re in this together,” he said, reaching over and giving her hand a squeeze. 

Over the following days, Penelope and Colin worked closely, pooling their resources and expertise. Penelope brought RaeAnne in, trusting her implicitly to help them. Penelope had her  delving into company records, meticulously analyzing financial statements and board meeting transcripts. Colin reached out to trusted contacts, setting up meetings with employees and board members who might provide insight.

One afternoon, she and Colin reconvened in Penelope's office, both carrying folders filled with notes.

"I've found several discrepancies in the financial reports Radcliffe submitted," Penelope began, spreading documents across the table. "Look here - he's underreporting revenue projections and exaggerating expenses."

Colin leaned over the table, examining the figures. "That aligns with what James Sterling mentioned. He's been questioning why the company's performance seems artificially deflated."

She nodded. "It's a classic tactic to make the company appear less valuable, paving the way for a lowball acquisition offer."

"Did you find any direct links to Weston Enterprises?" he asked.

"Not yet," she admitted. "Rae said there are emails where Radcliffe references meetings with 'external partners' without specifying who."

"I spoke with Margaret Sinclair," Colin said. "She confirmed that Radcliffe has been advocating for alternative options to the merger, though he hasn't disclosed details."

Penelope sighed, running a hand through her hair. "He's been operating under our noses, and I've been too overwhelmed to see it."

"Don't blame yourself," Colin said gently. "He's been careful to cover his tracks. Now that we're aware, we can act."

She looked at him, determination shining in her eyes. "I need to bring this to the board, but I have to be strategic. If I confront him without solid evidence, he could turn it against me and get exactly what he wants."

"Agreed," he said. "We need more. Perhaps we can trace his communications, find out who he's been meeting."

She hesitated. "That might require accessing his emails or phone records. Is that legal?"

Colin paused. “No clue. Probably not, unfortunately.” He considered for a moment. "However, as acting CEO, you might have certain rights to review company communications, especially if there's suspicion of misconduct."

She considered that. "I'll consult with our legal team and see what they say."

"Good idea," he agreed. "In the meantime, I'll keep gathering testimonies from staff who might have noticed irregularities."

She offered a small smile. "Thank you, Colin. Your help has been invaluable."

He returned her gaze warmly. "I'm glad to be of assistance."

That evening, Penelope met with the company's legal counsel, Laura Thompson, a sharp and meticulous attorney known for her discretion.

"Penelope, it's good to see you," Laura greeted, shaking her hand.

"Thank you for meeting me on such short notice," Penelope replied.

They settled into a private conference room. "What can I do for you?" Laura asked.

Penelope took a deep breath. "I have reason to believe that a member of our board, Mr. Radcliffe, is engaging in activities that are detrimental to the company - possibly some that are even illegal."

Laura's expression became serious. "That's a significant allegation. What evidence do you have?"

Penelope outlined the discrepancies in the financial reports and the suspicious communications. "I need to know what my legal options are for investigating further, specifically regarding accessing his company emails and records."

Laura nodded thoughtfully. "As acting CEO, you have the authority to access company communications if there is a legitimate business interest or suspicion of misconduct. However, we need to ensure that we adhere strictly to company policy and privacy laws."

"I want to proceed carefully," Penelope affirmed. "The last thing I need is for this to backfire."

"Understood," Laura said. "I'll draft a formal request and oversee the process to ensure compliance. We'll keep this confidential."

"Thank you, Laura. Your guidance is greatly appreciated."

The next day, with Laura's assistance, Penelope began reviewing Radcliffe's company emails and documents. What they found confirmed their suspicions. There were numerous communications with representatives from Weston Enterprises, thinly veiled under coded language. References to "Project W" and discussions about "acquisition timelines" painted a clear picture.

Penelope called Colin to update him. "We've got him," she said, unable to keep the relief from her voice.

"That's great news," Colin replied. "Now you can present this to the board."

"Yes, but I need to be strategic," she cautioned. "Radcliffe is influential, and we need the board firmly on my side."

"Have you considered speaking with Agatha?" he suggested. "Even though she's stepped back, her influence could be significant."

Penelope hesitated. "I don't want to burden her, especially with how sick she’s been. Treatments have been…difficult for her."

"She would want to know," Colin said gently. "She might have insights that could help."

She sighed. "You're right. I'll visit her this evening."

That evening, Penelope arrived at the clinic where Agatha was undergoing treatment. She found her mentor resting comfortably, a book in her hands.

"Penelope, dear," Agatha greeted warmly. "I didn’t expect to see you today. What brings you here?"

Penelope sat beside her, taking her hand. "I needed to talk to you about something important."

Agatha studied her face. "I can see it's serious. Tell me."

Penelope explained the situation with Radcliffe, outlining the evidence they had gathered. Agatha listened intently, her expression growing stern.

"That ass," Agatha muttered. "I knew he was ambitious, but this is beyond the pale."

"I didn't want to worry you, but I value your advice," Penelope said softly.

Agatha squeezed her hand. "You did the right thing by coming to me. Radcliffe has always been a thorn in my side, but I never imagined he'd stoop this low."

"What should we do?" Penelope asked.

"Expose him," Agatha declared firmly. "However, you need to ensure you have the majority of the board's support. Reach out to those you trust. Margaret Sinclair, for one, has always been loyal."

"Colin has been helping me," Penelope added. "He's been instrumental in uncovering this."

Agatha's eyes twinkled knowingly. "Well, well."

Penelope felt a blush rise to her cheeks. "He's been a good ally."

"Indeed," Agatha said with a hint of amusement. "Now, let's focus on taking Radcliffe down."

Over the next few days, Penelope, Colin, and RaeAnne worked tirelessly to prepare for the upcoming board meeting. Penelope met with key board members individually, presenting the evidence and securing their support. Margaret Sinclair was outraged by Radcliffe's betrayal and promised to stand with her.

The morning of the board meeting found Penelope and RaeAnne in the conference room early to set things up, and it didn’t take long for everyone to arrive after they did. Things were tense from the outset. The air was thick with unspoken suspicions and the faint scent of expensive cologne. Radcliffe sat at the far end of the table, his expression smug and confident. Colin wasn’t allowed to be in the boardroom for this particular meeting, but RaeAnne had set up the remote workstation so he could watch from his office on the third floor. Penelope was comforted to know he was nearby, a silent pillar of support.

Penelope stood at the head of the table, her posture poised and authoritative. "Thank you all for attending this emergency meeting," she began, her voice clear and steady.

"Get on with it," Radcliffe drawled, feigning boredom.

Ignoring him, Penelope continued. "I have come across evidence that suggests a member of this board has been engaging in activities that are detrimental to the interests of Danbury Publishing."

A ripple of murmurs spread through the room.

"What kind of activities?" one board member asked, leaning forward.

RaeAnne stood up, distributing copies of the compiled evidence to each board member. "Please review the documents before you. They detail financial discrepancies, unauthorized communications with rival companies, and attempts to undermine the merger with BPC."

Radcliffe's eyes narrowed as he flipped through the pages. "This is outrageous," he spat. "Fabrications and lies!"

"These documents have been verified," Penelope stated firmly. "And we have testimonies from multiple sources."

Margaret Sinclair spoke up, her tone firm. "I move that we suspend Mr. Radcliffe pending a full investigation into these allegations."

"I second the motion," another board member added.

Radcliffe shot to his feet, his face flushed with anger. "You can't do this! I have dedicated years to this company!"

"Years spent lining your own pockets and undermining your colleagues," Penelope retorted coolly.

Margaret Sinclair stood. "I move that we vote to remove Mr. Radcliffe from the board effective immediately."

"I second the motion," another member echoed.

Radcliffe's face turned a mottled red. "You can't do this! I won't stand for it."

Penelope spoke calmly. "Your actions have jeopardized the integrity and future of this company. The board has every right to act in its best interest."

The vote was swift and unanimous. Security was called to escort Radcliffe from the premises. As he was led away, he glared at Penelope.

"This isn't over," he hissed.

She met his gaze with steely resolve. "Yes, it is."

After the meeting, the board members expressed their gratitude to Penelope for her leadership.

"Your swift action has saved us from potential disaster," Margaret said warmly.

Penelope smiled modestly. "I couldn't have done it without the support of this board and the dedication of our team."

Once everyone had left, she glanced down at her phone to see a text from Colin. 

You did brilliantly.

I couldn’t have done it without you. Your help was invaluable.

We made a great team.

Something loosened in her chest and she pocketed her phone to help RaeAnne pack up the boardroom. 

Later that evening, back in her office, Penelope sank into her chair, the adrenaline of the day finally waning. Colin entered quietly, two cups of tea in hand.

"Thought you might need this," he said, placing one on her desk.

"You're a mind reader," she replied, wrapping her hands around the warm mug.

“Just paying attention.” He took a seat opposite her, studying her thoughtfully. "How are you feeling?"

"Relieved," she admitted. "Exhausted, but relieved."

"You handled yourself brilliantly today," he said earnestly. "I'm proud of you."

She looked up, her eyes softening. "I couldn't have done it without you, Colin. Truly."

He shrugged modestly. "I just provided a bit of support. You did the heavy lifting."

A small smile curved her lips. "You know, when you first started showing up here, I wasn't sure what to think."

"I can imagine," he said wryly. "I haven't exactly been the most reliable person in your life."

She hesitated, then spoke softly. "People change. I've seen that in you these past few weeks."

He leaned forward, his gaze earnest. "Penelope, I meant what I said before. I'm here for you - not just professionally or because of the merger, but personally. No expectations, no pressure. I failed you before. I don’t want to do that again, not if you’re willing to let me in."

She studied him for a long moment, vulnerability flickering in her eyes. "It's been a long time since I've let myself rely on anyone."

"I know," he replied gently. "And I understand if you're not ready, but I'm not going anywhere."

A silence settled between them, filled with unspoken possibilities.

"Maybe... maybe we could start anew," she suggested cautiously. "Get to know each other again. Who we are now."

His smile was huge. "I'd like that."

She took a sip of her tea, the warmth spreading through her. "There's still a lot to sort out with the company, and Agatha's health is still a concern."

"One step at a time," he agreed. "I'm here to help in any way I can."

"Thank you," she said sincerely.

He stood up, sensing it was time to give her space. "I should let you get some rest."

She nodded, standing as well. "Goodnight, Colin."

"Goodnight, Pen."

As he reached the door, she called out to him. "Colin?"

He turned, hope flickering in his eyes. "Yeah?"

She offered a genuine smile. "I'm glad you're here."

His own smile broadened. "Me too."

As Colin left the office building, he felt a lightness he hadn't experienced in years. The night air was crisp, the city lights twinkling like stars. For the first time since returning to London, he felt as though he was exactly where he was meant to be.

Penelope watched from her window as he walked away, a mixture of emotions swirling within her. She turned back to her desk, a renewed sense of purpose filling her. With Radcliffe gone and the merger back on track, there was hope on the horizon. 

Suddenly, her phone rang, startling her out of her thoughts. Seeing the clinic's number on the screen, a sense of dread settled in her stomach.

"Hello?" she answered hesitantly.

"Ms. Featherington, this is Nurse Harper from St. Thomas’. Agatha Danbury has been admitted due to complications. She's stable now, but we thought you'd want to know."

Chapter Text

Penelope's heart pounded as she rushed through the corridors of St. Thomas' Hospital, the scent of antiseptic assaulting her senses. The distant beeps of medical equipment created a rush of noise that only heightened her anxiety.

"Agatha Danbury's room, please," she gasped to the nurse at the reception desk.

The nurse glanced up sympathetically. "Room 312, third floor. Take the elevators to your left."

"Thank you," Penelope managed before darting toward the elevators, her mind racing with worst-case scenarios. Agatha had been doing so well lately; this sudden turn was unexpected and terrifying.

She reached the room and paused outside the door to collect herself. Taking a deep breath, she pushed it open gently. Agatha lay in the bed, looking frail against the stark white sheets, an IV drip attached to her arm. Her eyes were closed, but the steady rise and fall of her chest indicated she was sleeping.

"Penelope," Nurse Harper whispered, approaching her. "She's stable for now. The doctors are monitoring her closely."

"What happened?" Penelope asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"She experienced some complications from the treatment. Her immune system is quite weak," the nurse explained gently.

Penelope nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Can I stay with her?"

"Of course. We’ll be back in to check on her in a little while," Nurse Harper said, as she tucked in a blanket around Agatha’s feet. 

"Thank you."

As the nurse left, Penelope sank into a chair, reaching out to hold Agatha's hand. It felt cool and fragile, a stark contrast to the firm grip she was used to.

"Please be okay," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes.

Colin was lounging on his couch when the text from Hyacinth came through. 

Gareth just called. His grandmother is in the hospital. Penelope is there. Can you go? G doesn’t think P should be alone. El still in Portugal with Phil. 

Omw. 

Thanks. I’ll tell G. 

Sometimes their world felt small, but in this case Colin was thankful since he wasn’t sure when or if Pen would have told him about Agatha. He constantly worried about overstepping her boundaries, but if he had the ability to be there for her, he was going to take the chance she might want the support. 

The drive to the hospital seemed to take forever, but really it wasn’t too long before he was asking for Agatha’s room number and making his way to her room.

"Pen?"

She looked up to see Colin standing in the doorway, concern etched on his face.

"Colin," she whispered, surprised.

"Gareth called Hy and told her you were here. I came as soon as I could," he said softly, stepping into the room.

Her composure cracked, and tears she had been holding back began to spill over. "She's so weak," Penelope choked out.

Colin was by her side in an instant, wrapping his arms around her. "I'm so sorry," he murmured, holding her as she sobbed into his shoulder.

They stood like that for a while, Penelope clinging to him as if he were the only solid thing in a suddenly uncertain world. Colin held her tightly, offering silent support.

When her sobs subsided, he guided her back to the chair. "Have you eaten anything?" he asked gently.

She shook her head. "I'm not hungry."

"You need to keep your strength up," he insisted. "Let me get you some tea at least."

"Okay," she conceded weakly.

"I'll be right back," he promised.

A few minutes later, he returned with a cup of hot tea and a packet of biscuits. "Here," he said, handing them to her.

"Thank you," she whispered, taking a sip. The warmth spread through her, providing a small measure of comfort.

"I spoke to the nurses," Colin said carefully. "They can bring in a chair-bed if you'd like to stay the night."

"Really?" Penelope asked, touched by the gesture.

He nodded. "It's no trouble."

She managed a small smile. "Thank you."

"Of course," he replied. "Whatever you need, I got you."

Shortly after, a nurse brought in a reclining chair that could be converted into a makeshift bed. Colin helped adjust it beside Agatha's bed.

"There you go," he said, smoothing the blanket over it. "Now you can rest properly."

Penelope looked at him gratefully before slipping onto the cushions. “Are you headed home?” 

Colin pushed a curl behind her ear from where it had fallen across her cheek. “In a little bit. Get some rest.” 

Her whole body ached with tension from the entire day. It was hard to believe the board meeting and confrontation with Radcliffe had just been that morning. She was exhausted, mentally, emotionally, and physically. She couldn’t hold her eyes open any longer and just murmured, “Hmmmkay,” before succumbing to sleep. 

Colin didn’t leave. He settled into the chair she had been occupying earlier so he could watch over both Agatha and Penlope.

Bridge Sibs Chat

Colin: At the hospital with Pen. Agatha has been admitted. 

Eloise: GD. I love Phil, but his accident is significantly harshing my best friend vibe. 

Hy: Colin’s got her. I got G. We good. 

Anthony: You got who and what now? 

Ben: Do you need me to bring you both anything, Colin? 

Greg: Ant, where have you been? 

Daphne: Simon will be there in the morning to relieve her. Hy, make sure G stays in Edinburgh. We’ll make sure he knows if he absolutely needs to come home. Love you both, Colin. 

Colin: Ben, I think we’re okay right now. Will let you know. Thanks, everyone. Will keep you posted. 

Colin knew the chat would probably go for a while despite his goodbye, so he silenced it with the hopes that he could get some sleep himself. He felt better knowing that Simon would be by in the morning to be with Agatha. As her godson he had been doing his best trying to be there for her, but his own responsibilities had kept him busier than he had anticipated and his help had been sporadic, which is why so much had fallen on Pen. That and her own stubbornness of trying to make sure no one was inconvenienced by things that she felt she could handle herself. 

He sighed as he squirmed trying to find a comfortable position. It was going to be a long night, but making sure Pen felt like she wasn’t alone was worth it.

Daphne’s words came unbidden to his mind. “We thought you were in love with her!” 

He scrubbed his hands over his face. It was probably true then, even though he missed it and made some serious mistakes running from it subconsciously. 

He knew without a doubt, however, that it was true now. 

He loved her. 

Achingly, completely, totally enamored with the person she was. Her strength, her grit, the way she loved fiercely and protectively, how passionate she was about the people and things she cared about. 

It wasn’t infatuation or something he could run from any longer. It wasn’t the love of 10, 15 years ago when they were young and he was stupid and didn’t know what it was or how it could change his life. 

It was like a warm blanket. Standing the sun’s rays, basking in their warmth.

It was everything. 

He had no idea what he was going to do about it. She had agreed to try to be friends, to try and see if she was able to let go of what he had done and move forward as the people they were now. 

Colin sighed and shifted in the chair again. He couldn’t worry about it now. It was a puzzle to be solved another day, when there weren't bigger, more important things to worry about. 

He glanced over at Agatha, who was still sleeping soundly, before his eyes went to Pen. She was asleep, but her brow was furrowed and he could still see the tension in her body. 

He’d deal with his feelings later. Right now, he focused on the woman in front of him and kept watch on her through the night.

The next morning, Penelope awoke to find Colin dozing in a chair beside her, his head tilted at an uncomfortable angle. She felt a pang of affection and guilt.

"Colin," she whispered, reaching out to touch his arm.

He stirred, blinking sleepily. "Morning," he said, offering a lopsided smile.

"You didn't have to stay all night," she said softly.

"I wanted to," he replied, stretching his stiff muscles.

"Thank you," she said sincerely.

Just then, Nurse Harper entered the room. "Good morning," she greeted. She looked over to where Agatha was stirring in her bed. 

Penelope stood up quickly. "Agatha," she said quietly. “I’m here.” 

Colin gestured toward the door and whispered, "I'll give you two some privacy."

She glanced back at him gratefully before approaching Agatha's bedside.

"Hello, dear," Agatha greeted weakly.

"How are you feeling?" Penelope asked, taking her hand.

"Tired, but better now that I see your face," Agatha replied with a faint smile.

Penelope blinked back tears. "You had us all worried."

"I'm tougher than I look," Agatha said with a wink. Her eyes shifted to the doorway where she could see Colin on the phone in the hallway. "Is that Mr. Bridgerton I see?"

Penelope turned. "Yes, he... he stayed with me…us… last night."

Agatha's eyes sparkled with interest. "Well, well, well."

Penelope rolled her eyes. “How are you feeling?” She tucked the blanket around Agatha’s knees to give her something to do, although she knew Agatha didn’t miss the blush staining her cheeks. 

“Terrible.” Agatha reached over and took Penelope’s hand. “I’m not sure how much longer I can do the chemo, dear.” 

Penelope’s eyes slid shut and she bit her lower lip to keep from crying. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she opened her eyes to look at Agatha. “I know,” she said quietly. 

Agatha patted her hand and then squeezed it with what little strength she had. “We’ll see what the doctors say.” 

Penelope nodded. 

Just then, Colin knocked lightly on the door, peeking his head in as he opened it slowly. “Sorry, for interrupting.” 

Agatha grinned. “Come in, come in."

Colin approached, offering a respectful nod. "Lady Danbury."

"Agatha, please," she corrected. "Thank you for looking after Penelope."

"It was my pleasure," he replied sincerely.

Agatha glanced between them knowingly. "It's good to see you two together."

Penelope felt her cheeks warm. “Agatha..."

"Now, dear, I’m just making an observation," Agatha said, patting Penelope's hand. "You should take her for breakfast, Mr. Bridgerton. Our girl needs to eat.” 

Penelope hesitated. "I don’t know. I don’t want to leave you alone."

Colin spoke up. “Actually, that was Simon on the phone letting me know that he’s on his way up. He’s just finding a parking spot. He was able to change his schedule around today so he could be here for Agatha.” The unspoken “and give Penelope a break” hung in the air. 

"Good, good," Agatha said. “He’ll be a good one to keep me company and talk to the doctors with me."

Penelope’s chin wobbled. “Oh, but, maybe I should -” 

Agatha cut her off. “You go get breakfast, shower and a nap. Do not go into the office today. That’s an order from your boss.” 

Penelope shook her head. “The board meeting was yesterday so I have some things I need to follow up on. Plus, I’d like to be here when you -” her voice broke. She took a few moments to compose herself as Agatha held one hand, and Colin reached out to hold the other. “I would like to be here when you speak to the doctors.” 

Agatha regarded her solemnly. “Fair enough. I’ll have Simon call when we know they’re coming. The office, however, can wait. Your assistant can handle things for one day.” 

“Oh, but…” Pen began to argue and Colin squeezed her hand. 

“You can call her from the cafeteria and check in while we eat? Play it by ear. Especially since we don’t know when the doctors will be by.” Colin moved his hand from hers and ran it up her arm, touching her bicep softly. “You don’t have to make any decisions right this second.” 

Penelope looked like she was going to say something, but just then Simon opened the door to Agatha’s room. “Hey.” He walked over to Agatha’s bedside and leaned down to kiss her cheek. 

“Auntie. How are you?” He stood up, his eyes sweeping over his godmother before they moved over to where Penelope and Colin stood on the other side of the bed, still holding hands. 

“Fine, fine,” Agatha dismissed Simon’s question, although it was obvious that she was less than fine. Her conversation with Penelope had weakened her, and her face and lips were a pale gray. 

Colin let go, reached up, and rubbed Penelope’s back. “Let’s go get something to eat, yeah?”

He turned to Simon. “Want us to bring you anything?” 

Simon shook his head. Colin nodded and moved toward the door, Pen following him slowly. He didn’t push her, allowing her the choice to truly stay behind if she wanted to. She turned to Simon. 

“You’ll call or text when the doctor’s come by?” she asked him. 

Simon looked toward Agatha, who gave a small nod. “Of course.” 

Pen bent to kiss Agatha’s cheek. “I’ll be right downstairs.” 

Agatha nodded, but said nothing, too weak to find the energy to do so. Her eyes were already sliding shut as Colin and Penelope left the room. 

The cafeteria was quiet, with just a few people milling around, drinking, eating, and talking softly. Colin and Penelope made their way through the line, each choosing random breakfast items. Colin's tray was piled high, while Penelope's held a cup of tea and a yogurt. Colin regarded her choices without comment but pointed to some items he thought she might like. She just shook her head, and he didn't push it. If she even managed to get the yogurt down, that would be a win.

They settled at a small table for two, and Penelope put her head down on her arms on the table. Colin prepared her tea the way he knew she liked it and placed it in front of her. He reached out and laid a comforting hand on her arm, only to hear a sniff and feel her body shake. He looked around, trying to find a place that would offer her a little more privacy.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a sign that said "Quiet Room." He stood and gently guided Penelope over. Peeking his head in, he saw that the room had a small loveseat, a table with tissues, and a small lamp. Thankfully, it was also empty. He guided her to the loveseat and saw a sign on the table that said "Occupied." He moved to hang it on the door so others would know the room was in use. That taken care of, he moved to the loveseat and gathered Penelope in his arms.

She went willingly, sobbing into his chest. He held her, stroking her hair and back, offering the same soothing rubs that he remembered his mother giving him when he had been upset as a child.

Colin said nothing, just holding Penelope as she wept. He knew she had to be exhausted, despite whatever sleep she might have gotten last night. The board meeting had wiped her out to begin with, then she was called away to the hospital. Based on what he could decipher from her insistence that she be there when the doctors spoke to Agatha, he knew that some hard conversations were about to take place shortly. He could feel the tension in her shoulders and wondered what he could do to ease this pain for her.

He knew better, though. Grief was its own beast, needing to be dealt with however the person suffering from it needed to. All he could do was hold her, be there for her however she needed.

After a while, her sobs subsided into quiet sniffles. She pulled back slightly, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry," she murmured.

"Don't apologize," he said gently. "You're allowed to feel whatever you need to."

She gave a small nod, her eyes red and puffy. "Thank you for being here."

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be," he replied sincerely.

She managed a faint smile. "I must look like a mess."

He shook his head. "You look like someone who is carrying a lot. It’s okay.” 

She gazed at him for a long moment. "Thank you for being here." She looked away from him. “I know I said that I wasn’t sure if I could be your friend again, but I really appreciate you staying with me and being someone I can lean on right now.” 

"Well, I try not to make the same mistakes twice. You need me. I’m here, however I can be of help," he assured her.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, the quiet of the room enveloping them.

"Maybe we should go eat," she suggested softly.

"Are you sure? We can stay here as long as you need," he offered.

She took a deep breath. "No, you're right. I need to eat something, and I should check in with RaeAnne."

He stood up and offered her his hand. "Okay. Let's try to tackle one thing at a time."

She accepted his hand, allowing him to help her up. They returned to their table, and Penelope called RaeAnne to check in. She was assured that all was well, nothing needed her immediate attention, and she would call if anything came up. 

Penelope hung up and picked at her yogurt. “I don’t know if she’s being completely truthful with me, but I’ll take her at her word. I don’t think I could concentrate if I was there anyway.” 

“She’ll call if you’re needed, I have no doubt. She’s capable of handling a lot though.” Colin took a big bite of his eggs. 

Penelope nodded. “She is. I owe her a raise. She’s been indispensable to me over the last few months. Before that really. I feel like she knows more about Danbury than I do sometimes.” 

Colin noticed that Penelope seemed to eat more while they spoke, so he kept the conversation going, but light.

"Do you remember that time we got lost in Hyde Park when you were like 15?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

She looked up, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You mean the time you insisted you knew a shortcut and we ended up wandering for hours?"

He chuckled. "In my defense, I thought I did know the way."

"You always were overconfident," she teased gently.

"Maybe a little," he admitted. "We eventually found our way, though, didn't we?"

"After we asked for directions," she pointed out.

"Details," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

She shook her head, the weight on her shoulders feeling just a bit lighter. "Thank you," she said quietly.

"For what?" he asked.

"For making me smile," she replied.

He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "Anytime."

Just then, her phone buzzed with a text from Simon:

Doctors are here. 

Penelope's demeanor shifted instantly. "I need to go."

Colin started picking up their trash. "Do you want me to come with you?"

Pen nodded and they hurried back to Agatha's room, finding Simon standing outside.

"She insisted on speaking with them alone first," he said to Penelope, smiling sadly.

“Of course she did,” Penelope sighed.

They stood in silence for a few minutes before one of the doctors came and opened the door. "Mr. Hastings? Ms. Featherington? Please join us." 

She glanced at Colin. "Will you wait here?"

"Of course," he assured her.

They entered the room, where Agatha was propped up slightly, surrounded by a team of doctors.

"Hello, darlings," Agatha greeted them weakly.

"Agatha," Penelope replied, moving to her side.

One of the doctors turned to her. "Ms. Featherington, Mr. Hastings, we've been discussing the next steps with Mrs. Danbury."

Penelope nodded, her heart pounding. "And?"

Agatha reached for her hand. "I've decided to stop the chemotherapy."

Penelope felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. "Oh." She felt Simon’s hand on her back, steadying her. 

"It's not working," Agatha said gently. "And it's making me feel worse. I'd rather focus on quality of life now."

Tears welled in Penelope's eyes. She knew that this was coming, but still.  "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," Agatha affirmed. "I've made peace with it."

Penelope swallowed hard, struggling to keep her composure. "Okay."

The doctors continued explaining the palliative care options, but Penelope could barely focus. All she could think about was the limited time left.

After the doctors left and Simon stepped outside to call Gareth, Agatha patted the space on the bed beside her. "Sit with me, dear."

Penelope obliged, her emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

"I need you to promise me something," Agatha said softly.

"Anything," Penelope whispered.

"Don't close yourself off," Agatha advised, her gaze piercing, yet tender. "Let yourself be happy. Life's too short to live in fear."

Penelope nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I promise."

"Good," Agatha said, a faint smile touching her lips. "About that young man out there... he cares for you."

Penelope glanced toward the door where Colin waited. "I...yeah, I think he does.” 

She turned back to Agatha. “I'm scared. He hurt me badly when we were younger. He broke me."

It was the first time she said those words out loud to someone else. To admit what he had done to her, how badly it had affected her, and how hard she’d tried to keep the walls up upon his return. It was terrifying to think she was making a mistake again, giving him the chance to break her once more if he deserted her again. Especially when she was facing a momentous loss in Agatha not too far in the future. 

Agatha squeezed her hand gently. "He did, but people can change. You've changed and grown stronger since I’ve known you all these years. Perhaps he has too."

"Do I give him the chance? What if he hurts me again?" Penelope's voice wavered.

Agatha looked deeply into her eyes. "Then you'll survive it, just as you did before. Denying yourself a chance at happiness because of what ifs? That's no way to live."

Penelope took a shaky breath. "I don't know if I can trust him."

"Trust is earned," Agatha acknowledged. "However, you’ll never know if you don’t give him the chance to do so.” 

She paused, her strength waning. "When I look back, it's not the failures I regret, but the opportunities I let slip away. The anger and hurt that I allowed to drive me - it kept me safe, but lonely."

Penelope bit her lip. "You think I should give him a chance?"

"I think you should follow your heart, wherever that leads," Agatha said softly. "Don't let fear decide for you."

Penelope wiped away her tears. "I'll think about it."

Agatha's eyes softened. "That's all I ask."

She gave Penelope's hand a final squeeze. "Now, let me rest. We'll talk more later."

Penelope leaned in to kiss her cheek. "Rest well."

As she stood to leave, Agatha called after her. "And Penelope?"

"Yes?"

"Don't wait too long."

When Penelope stepped out of the room, Colin stood up immediately. "How is she?"

She looked at him, her eyes filled with unshed tears. "She... she’s stopping treatment."

"Oh, Pen," he said softly, pulling her into his arms.

She buried her face in his chest. "I don't know what I'm going to do without her."

He held her tightly. "You're not alone. We’ve got you, whatever you need."

She clung to him, drawing strength from his presence. After a few moments, she pulled back slightly. "I need to make some calls, check in with RaeAnne, look at palliative care options."

"Do you want me to come with you?" he offered.

She shook her head. "No, but thank you. I think I need a few minutes."

"Sure," he said gently. "I'll be here when you need me."

She managed a small nod before walking down the hallway to find a quiet spot.

Colin watched her go, his heart aching for her. He wished he could do more, but he knew that sometimes, all one could do was be there.

"Colin," Simon's voice came from behind him.

He turned to face his brother-in-law. "Simon."

"How is she?" Simon asked, nodding toward where Penelope had gone.

"Holding it together. Barely," Colin replied.

Simon sighed. "This is going to be hard on her."

"I know," Colin agreed. "She thinks the world of Agatha."

"As do we all," Simon said thoughtfully. "How are you holding up?"

Colin shrugged. "I'm more worried about Pen."

Simon gave him a knowing look. "You care about her."

"I…yes. Very much so," Colin admitted.

"Then be there for her," Simon advised. "She'll need someone to lean on."

"I'm trying," Colin said earnestly.

"You're doing a good job," Simon reassured him. "Don’t let go."

Later that evening, Penelope and Colin left the hospital together. The sun was setting, casting a golden hue over the city.

"Do you want to grab something to eat?" Colin suggested tentatively.

She shook her head. "I'm not really hungry. I just want to go home."

He led her to his car, opening her door and watching her slide in. Once she was settled, he shut the door softly and quickly made his way to his side of the car. 

The radio played low in the background as they made their way to her flat.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Colin asked gently, taking a chance she may need to process.

She sighed. "I don't even know where to start."

"We don’t have to talk," he said. "Whatever you need."

She looked over at him, her eyes reflecting a mix of sadness and gratitude. "I know I told you I didn’t know if I could let you in, and…Colin, I still don’t. I do need to tell you though, how much I’ve appreciated your support. I don’t know if I could have made it through the last 48 hours if you hadn’t been here, holding me up.” 

She looked embarrassed by her admission, and Colin knew what it took for her to tell him how she was feeling. 

He reached across the console to take her hand. "I care about you, Penelope. I want to be here for you."

She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "I’m really beginning to believe that. You’re…different than I remember."

He hesitated for a moment before speaking. "I’d like to think that once my eyes were finally opened to what I’d done…well, it made me see things differently. It made me realize I wanted to be a different person. To stop running from someone that made me feel…things I wasn’t ready to admit I was feeling.” 

Her eyes widened slightly. "Colin..."

"I know this isn’t the right time," he said quickly. "So I apologize for that, and we can table this conversation."

She looked down at their joined hands. "I’m just not ready to go there.” 

Colin nodded and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. “I know. I think I just…I needed you to know I’m aware of where I went wrong. So you know that I am not the same person I was even six months ago.” He shrugged. “You’ve got enough on your plate and I am not trying to add to it. Can’t seem to help myself though. I really want you to know you’re not alone.” 

Penelope swallowed hard as she considered his words and what Agatha had said to her earlier. “Agatha told me not to close myself off. To let myself be happy."

"She's a wise woman," he said softly.

Penelope took a deep breath. "I'm scared."

"I know," he acknowledged. "I know what I’m asking for here, and what a big ask it is."

She met his gaze, searching his eyes. "I want to try."

A hopeful smile spread across his face. "Thank you." He took her hand and raised it to his lips, giving it a soft kiss. 

Colin pulled the car up to her building, both of them quiet, but still holding hands. The weight of the day's events still hung over them, but there was a newfound understanding between them.

"Will you…come up?" she asked hesitantly. Her expression was surprised, as if she hadn't known she was even going to ask. She swallowed hard and blew out a breath. “I don’t think I can be alone right now.” 

"Of course," he replied without hesitation. "Whatever you need."

He parked and they made their way to her flat and she let them in. The familiar surroundings brought her a sense of comfort. She kicked off her shoes and sank onto the sofa.

Colin sat beside her. "Do you want to watch something? Or maybe just rest?"

She leaned her head on his shoulder. "Just stay here with me."

He wrapped an arm around her, holding her close. "I'm not going anywhere."

They sat in companionable silence, the rhythmic sound of their breathing filling the room.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. "Always."

As exhaustion began to overtake her, she allowed her eyes to close, comforted by his steady presence.

Chapter Text

When Penelope woke the next morning, she was in her bed, still in her clothes from - God, had it really been two days ago? 

She ran a hand through her hair and looked at her phone. Texts from RaeAnne, Eloise, Gareth and Margaret Sinclar greeted her. Duty warred with a deep, weary exhaustion. Groaning, she ignored them for a bit and threw her phone on the bed. She needed a shower and something to eat, in that order. 

After her shower, she made her way to the kitchen, stopping short when she walked past her guest bedroom to see Colin fast asleep on the bed in there. Her heart leaped before settling somewhere in her stomach. There was so much to unpack there, but other things had to be dealt with first. He and their relationship - whatever it might be - was way down on the priority list. 

She made her way into the kitchen and tried to be quiet as she made tea and toasted some bread. She wasn’t quiet enough though, since she heard Colin’s hoarse, “Good morning,” from behind her. 

She glanced over her shoulder. “Hey. Want something to eat? Tea? Coffee?” 

He rubbed across the back of his neck and her stomach clenched with something deep and raw. She quickly turned back around to check the toast. 

“Coffee would be bloody fantastic, to be honest.” She heard him shuffling toward her. 

“French press and grounds are there,” Pen said as she pointed to a cabinet, then went back to buttering her toast.  

They moved through the kitchen in a shared silence, but it was a silence steeped in ease and familiarity. It reminded her of the rhythm they’d shared when they were younger - a natural synchronicity that seemed to resurface effortlessly. Despite the unspoken weight of past mistakes and unanswered questions, something about their conversation the night before, and the way Colin had stood by her, seemed to have shifted things. The unsteady ground between them felt a little firmer.

Penelope spread butter across her toast with deliberate care, letting the simple, repetitive motion anchor her. She was keenly aware of Colin’s quiet movements behind her - brewing his coffee, a steady, reassuring presence - but she focused on preserving the fragile calm they had found. The kitchen, small and intimate, felt like the safest place in her world right now. After everything this quiet, shared moment was a sanctuary.

As soon as she finished her toast and tea, though, reality weighed on her again. She had responsibilities at Danbury, a million things pending since Radcliffe’s ouster from the board and the mess they had to clean up from his betrayal. The merger talks were nearing critical stages. She could hardly afford the luxury of taking a personal day to sort through her feelings. The way Colin looked at her, as if checking her emotional temperature, made her chest tighten. She needed space.

“Thank you for staying last night,” Penelope said quietly, finally turning to face him. He stood closer than she expected, coffee mug in hand, eyes etched with gentle concern.

“Of course,” he said simply. “How are you this morning?”

A fair question, but one that had no easy answer. “I’m…” She paused, searching for honesty without vulnerability. “I’m okay. I need to get to the office, though.”

Colin nodded, but she could sense a flicker of disappointment. “I figured you would.”

“I think,” she began, heart pounding as she forced the words out, “maybe it’s best if we give each other a bit of space today. I’m sure you have some stuff to do at BPC. I don’t want you to feel obligated to be at Danbury.”

He understood her meaning immediately. She needed a breather from them - whatever “them” was - and he recognized the familiar retreat she was making. God knew he’d done the same thing years ago. “I can head over to BPC,” he said, keeping his tone light. “Anthony wanted me there to talk over some production stuff anyway.”

She mustered a small smile. “That’s good. Thank you.”

He didn’t push. He wouldn’t get anywhere by doing so, not now, not when she was still bracing herself against tidal waves of grief and uncertainty. Instead, he reached out and gently caressed her cheek. “Pen, I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured. “I mean that. Take whatever time you need.”

Her eyes shone with relief and sadness. “I appreciate that.” She grasped his hand for a moment, before turning away, busying herself by rinsing her mug. “I should finish getting ready.”

“Right,” he said, giving her one final glance before heading to gather his jacket. “I’ll see you soon. Let me know if you need anything.”

Penelope nodded, swallowing hard. As soon as the door closed behind him, she let out a long exhale. She needed to hold it together. There was too much at stake, too many people depending on her.

Penelope stepped into her office later that morning, trying to project confidence despite the hollow ache in her chest. Agatha’s decision had hung over everything - her death wasn’t immediate, but she could feel the clock ticking. She had to keep things moving smoothly. The merger, while difficult, was the future of Danbury Publishing, and she’d be damned if she let Radcliffe’s sabotage or her grief stand in the way.

RaeAnne appeared at her doorway right on time, tablet in hand and a reassuring smile on her face. “Morning, Penelope. I’ve got the agendas set for the department heads meeting and the follow-ups from yesterday’s legal briefs.”

“Excellent,” Penelope said, sitting behind her desk. She laced her fingers together to keep them from shaking. “We need to finalize some tasks to stabilize everything after Radcliffe’s departure. I want to make sure that the fallout from his removal doesn’t stop the momentum for the merger.”

RaeAnne nodded, her expression attentive. “Let me know what you need.”

Penelope sorted through a few papers before handing RaeAnne a short list. “I want you to coordinate with the marketing and editorial teams - get a pulse on morale and ensure that we’re on top of any nerves about what’s happened. Also, since Agatha…since she’s decided to stop treatment, we’re looking into palliative care options. I know it isn’t part of your usual duties, but could you pull together information on the best facilities and at-home care specialists? It would mean a lot to all of us.”

RaeAnne’s brow furrowed slightly, but it was gone almost instantly, replaced by understanding sympathy. “Of course. I’m happy to help. Is there a timeline you’re working with?”

“As soon as possible,” Penelope said softly, her throat tight. “I know it’s a big ask, but I trust you.”

“I’ll get on it right away,” RaeAnne assured her, tapping a note into her tablet. “Anything else?”

“For now, that’s it,” Penelope replied. “Thank you, Rae.”

RaeAnne gave a small nod and left the office. Penelope watched her go, feeling a strong tug of gratitude. RaeAnne had been a godsend these past months; she really didn’t know what she would do without her. 

Penelope buckled down and got to work, focusing on what was in front of her and pushing everything else out of her mind. 

An hour or so later, RaeAnne knocked on her door and interrupted her thoughts. “Yes, Rae?” she asked, looking up.

“Ms. Thompson is here to see you. Do you have a minute?”

Penelope would see Danbury’s head lawyer, Laura Thompson, standing behind RaeAnne. “Yes, of course.” 

Laura stepped inside. “Penelope, so sorry to bother you, but I need to chat with you about something.”

Penelope straightened. “Of course, Laura. Sit down.” 

Laura closed the door and took a seat opposite Penelope’s desk. “First, I just want to say that I heard about Agatha’s decision to discontinue treatment. I’m so sorry to hear that. If there’s anything she - or you - need, please let me know.” 

The rock that seemed to be permanently lodged in her throat felt like a boulder. Unable to speak around it, Penelope just nodded. 

Laura took that as a cue to move forward. “We’ve been trying to cover our bases after the aftermath of Radcliffe’s removal, making sure that we hadn’t missed anything beyond his involvement.” 

Penelope felt an uneasy feeling creep over her. “Is there more?” 

Laura pursed her lips. “We’ve found some minor irregularities. Nothing massively concerning at first glance, but suspicious enough that we kept digging. The IT department has flagged unusual data access patterns of company information. Information that Radcliffe wouldn’t have access to being on the board, but it’s information we found in his communications to Weston. He was getting it from somewhere.”

Penelope sat back in her chair. “Someone on the inside was helping Radcliffe.”

Laura sighed. “It certainly looks that way. Someone has been making their moves when key documents are being drafted for the merger.”

Penelope’s stomach dropped. “Any idea who?”

Shaking her head, Laura frowned. “Not yet.” Her face was grave as she continued. “Penelope, I have to warn you not to trust anyone right now. Radcliffe was the obvious villain - everyone knows about his criminal activity, and he’s out of the picture for now. My concern is that he has a partner who is still trying to burn this merger to the ground, waiting to pick up Danbury Publishing’s pieces when the merger doesn’t go through.” 

Penelope’s mind whirled. “You’re saying it could be…someone I work with every day?”

“I think so, yes. Keep your eyes open,” Laura said firmly. “The IT folks know something is up, because of the digging we’re doing, and that makes me nervous. I would suggest hiring an outside firm to consult on this. They can take a look at all of the information, see what we’re dealing with, and if there’s a way to draw the partner out.” 

Rubbing her temples, Penelope shook her head. “So we have to bring someone from the outside in to see if someone from the inside is sabotaging us?”

She stood up and walked toward the window, looking at her view of London. “Bloody hell, Laura. What is going on?” 

Laura turned in her chair to face Penelope. “I’m trying to figure it out. I know a company we can use, and they’re the best. They’re discrete and they know how to dig without making it obvious. I recommend hiring them, and then acting like everything is normal. Radcliffe was the problem, he’s gone, things are going back to normal. Meanwhile, we keep digging and hopefully find the partner.” 

Penelope looked at Laura over her shoulder. “Great.” She scoffed. “How do I know you’re not the partner?” 

Laura smiled. “I think I’d be smarter not bringing this to your attention and just doing the dastardly deed if that was the case.” 

Penelope could admit she had a point. “Do you trust your people? Fife has had access and could easily get access to everything you’ve mentioned. God knows he and I don’t get along, and he’s hated the Bridgertons since they were in school together. There's a motive there.” 

“Fife has been a pain, sure, but he has a healthy respect for Agatha Danbury. His personality sucks, but I don’t think it’s him.” Laura pursued her lips. “The infiltration likely started around the time the merger talks began. Did you bring anyone new into a position of trust since then?”

Penelope thought carefully. RaeAnne was hired as her assistant at least a year before the merger talks began, although she had been trusted with more important and sensitive work since then. There was no way, however. Penelope would trust Rae with her life. 

Agatha’s assistant, Cressida, had turned in her resignation a few months ago, and she had started in her position when Agatha’s longtime assistant retired a year ago. Cressida resigned, stating that she wanted to pursue other avenues since she could no longer work directly with Agatha. Still, she had been there since the beginning of the merger talks and created some issues before she left. 

Then there was Colin…he had been around the Danbury office a lot more than his siblings. Penelope internally pushed the idea out of her mind. He would never. He could be selfish, oblivious, a crap friend…but this would mean he was evil, and Penelope wouldn’t believe that he was capable of that.  

“I…I can’t think of anyone that started around that time that would have any access to the things you’ve mentioned. Sure, we’ve had interns and entry-level employees start before the talks began, but all those hires stopped once we started negotiation with BPC. They wouldn’t have access to that information.”  

The lawyer raised a brow. “There’s no one at all?”

Penelope started to shake her head, but then hesitated before filling Laura in on Cressida, Rae, and Colin. 

“Honestly, Cressida would be the one I would lean toward, if only because of how awful she was before she left. She was upset about Agatha stepping back, which I understood, since she took the job to work with her. Considering the circumstances though, and the fact that we were going to try and find her another spot with another director…I didn’t understand where all the drama was coming from. Agatha handled it however, as one of the last major things she did before she got really sick.” 

She paused, thinking. “I’m certain it’s not Colin or Rae,” Penelope finally said. “I can’t imagine either of them being involved in this.”

Laura spread her hands. “I hope you’re right, but remember that wolves wear sheep’s clothing all the time. Just…be careful.”

Penelope nodded, her throat tightening again. After Laura left, Penelope sank into her chair. Cressida was still her first choice, but if not her, then who? She thought of RaeAnne, of how incredibly efficient she’d been and trustworthy she had proven herself to be. She couldn’t be wrong about that. Was Laura wrong about Fife? He was always a thorn in her side, but Agatha had her reasons for keeping him around. 

Damn it all. Penelope felt her chest constrict. She didn’t know who to trust.

Her phone buzzed. She pulled it out and saw a text from Colin: Dinner tonight?

Dinner. After all of this, after what the lawyer just warned about, after the hints and doubts. She stared at her screen. Colin had been so supportive, but could she really be sure of anyone?

She let the phone rest in her hand for a full minute, heart pounding. Then, slowly, she typed: Yes, dinner would be nice. Does 7 work for you?

Send.

She closed her eyes, trying to steady herself. Tonight, maybe over dinner, she could talk to Colin more openly. She still believed he wouldn’t be the one behind this - no matter what suspicions Laura planted. However, that only narrowed the field of potential traitors. She needed to be vigilant. Gareth was away, Simon was busy helping with Agatha’s care and taking care of his own family. She was on her own here.

The stakes were too high, and she wouldn’t let Agatha’s legacy crumble on her watch.

Determined, Penelope placed her phone down, squared her shoulders, and got back to work.

Colin sat in traffic, thinking about the woman he just left behind. Penelope was holding herself together with forced composure, and he recognized the telltale signs of pushing him away. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done the same thing a decade ago. When he’d left her behind and wandered the world, it had been his own form of avoidance. Now as he watched her do it, he understood that pushing would only make things worse, especially when she was carrying so much already. He meant it when he said he didn’t want to add to her burdens. 

A heavy sigh escaped him as the traffic gave way, allowing him to drive toward Bridgerton Production Company. He would respect her need for space. She had given him a chance, and he wouldn’t ruin it by demanding more than she could handle right now. He remembered how patience and understanding had never been his strong suits, but he was learning. For her, he would learn.

BPC’s offices were buzzing when he arrived. Staff moved briskly through hallways brightened by large windows and modern art. Colin nodded to a few employees who greeted him and made his way to Daphne’s office. She had texted him about going over some last-minute notes for a presentation they were working on, but he suspected she had other reasons too. His family always seemed to know when something was off.

Daphne’s door was open, and she looked up from her desk as soon as he stepped in. “There you are,” she said, smiling as she stood to give him a brief hug. “I was about to send out a search party.”

Colin attempted a grin but it felt forced. He shrugged out of his jacket and slung it over a chair. “Sorry. Busy morning.”

Daphne studied him closely. He could see her sharp gaze taking in the tension in his shoulders and the tiredness around his eyes. “Simon told me about the hospital,” she began gently. “He filled me in on Agatha and on…you and Penelope.”

Colin’s heart clenched. He should have known Simon would confide in Daphne. It wasn’t like he was keeping things a secret, but hearing it said aloud made it feel more real. “Yeah. I…l’ve taken your advice, and am trying to show her I’m in this for real this time. I’m trying not to push her. She’s going through hell, Daph. I don’t want to make it worse.”

Daphne nodded, crossing her arms lightly, leaning against the edge of her desk. “Simon said you were wonderful with her, that you were supporting her through it all.”

“Was I?” Colin asked softly, uncertainty coloring his voice. “She’s pushing me away now, needing space. I’m doing what I can to respect that, but it’s…frustrating. It’s like I can’t reach her.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I know it’s selfish. She’s dealing with so much, and I don’t want to put anything else on her plate, but I keep thinking, if she’d just let me in…”

Daphne offered a sympathetic smile, placing a comforting hand on her brother’s arm. “Colin, nothing worth having is going to come easy. You’ve got ten years of fuck-ups to atone for, remember? You left her once, you hurt her, and no matter how well you’ve been doing lately, that scar is still there. She’s scared, grieving, and probably terrified of leaning on you only to lose you again.”

He looked down, shame flickering in his eyes. Leave it to Daphne to cut right to the heart of the matter. “I know. You’re right, I know you’re right. It just hurts, you know? Because I’m not going anywhere this time, and I wish she’d believe that.”

“She will, in time,” Daphne said firmly. “Keep showing up. Keep doing what you’ve been doing. Every time you honor her space and still come back, every time you respect her boundaries and show her patience, you chip away at the walls she’s built. You don’t have to push, Colin. Just be steady.”

He inhaled slowly, letting her words settle. Steady. He could do steady. He would do whatever it took.

Daphne gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. “Speaking of steady,” she said, changing the subject slightly, “I’ve been talking to RaeAnne over at Danbury. She’s been incredibly helpful, giving me updates and smoothing out some of the hiccups when I reach out for information. Honestly, she’s made a lot of this merger business easier for me whenever I need to clarify something from their side.”

“RaeAnne?” Colin smiled. “Yeah, she’s been fantastic. She was instrumental in helping with the research on Radcliffe.” 

“She’s been a godsend - very knowledgeable, always has the right document or knows the next step.” Daphne paused. “It’s been driving me crazy since we first met, but there is just something about her that is so familiar to me. I wish I could figure out where I knew her from.” 

Colin shrugged. “Maybe you’ve just seen her around somewhere?”

Daphne waved it off. “I’m sure it’ll come to me. You know how I hate having something lingering that I can’t figure out. Anyway, let’s get you set for the presentation this afternoon. The last thing we need is you fumbling because your head’s elsewhere.”

“Thanks, Daph,” he said softly. “For listening, and for the advice.”

Daphne smiled warmly. “That’s what sisters are for. 

He managed a small laugh. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

As he and Daphne moved on to discuss the day’s agenda, Colin kept Penelope’s face in his mind, remembering her quiet strength and heartbreak. He would give her space, just as she needed, but he would still be there - steady and unwavering - when she was ready to let him back in.

A few hours later, he left Daphne’s office feeling good about their presentation. He wanted to text Pen and check in, fill her in on his day, and see how she was doing. He wanted to tell her he missed her. 

Sighing, he stuck his phone in his pocket. She asked for space. He was going to give it to her. 

Colin made his way to his office down the hall from Daphne’s to catch up on emails, social media posts he still had scheduled, and other odds and ends that needed to be taken care to be dealt with. 

His phone was burning a hole in his pocket. 

He tried. He really did, but he needed to see her. 

Dinner tonight? 

He actually prepared himself for her to turn him down, so he was surprised at her response. 

Yes, dinner would be nice. Does 7 work for you?

Pick you up at the office? 

She gave him a thumbs up and he went to work trying to find them a nice place to be able to enjoy together tonight. 

Her eyes were tired and he could see the grief sitting there on her face, but she smiled as she slid into the passenger seat of the car. 

“Hi,” she said as she put her seatbelt on. 

“Hey,” he breathed, taking her in and thanking his lucky stars that she was giving him a chance.

The restaurant Colin had chosen for dinner was small, warm, and quietly lit, the kind of place that welcomed lingering conversations. Soft lamplight gilded their table in a gentle glow, while the low murmur of voices and the occasional clink of silverware provided a soothing undercurrent. The air smelled of fried batter, fresh herbs, and lemon - comforting and nostalgic. Penelope, who had walked through the day with a tightness in her chest, finally felt some of that tension ease, as if seeping into the cozy atmosphere around them.

They sat near a window where London’s evening lights danced on the glass. Inside, Colin gave her an encouraging smile as he passed over the menu. “I remembered you always had a soft spot for good fish and chips,” he said, keeping his voice gentle, as if afraid of breaking the delicate calm.

Penelope’s tired eyes curved into a genuine smile. “You remembered correctly.”

They ordered simply: fish and chips for both, with glasses of Sauvignon Blanc to go with their dinner. 

The waiter nodded and disappeared, leaving them with a quiet moment that felt both delicate and comfortable. 

Penelope drew in a breath. She had asked for space this morning, but now that he was here, genuinely here - no expectations, just steady support - she realized it might help to share what weighed on her mind. 

“I need to tell you something,” she began, keeping her voice low. “Laura Thompson, our head lawyer, came by today.” 

Colin’s brows lifted slightly. “Oh?” 

“She’s been digging deeper since Radcliffe’s ouster,” Penelope continued. “It looks like he might’ve had an inside partner at Danbury. Someone was feeding him information and helping sabotage the merger.” 

She hesitated, the gravity of it all making her chest feel tight. “Colin, if this is true, it means someone I trust - or at least thought I could trust - is working against me. Against all of us.” 

His hand, resting near the edge of the table, turned palm up, inviting her to take it. After a brief pause, she did, then continuing sharing what she and Laura had spoken about that morning.

“Do you have anyone you suspect?” he asked, voice calm, supportive. 

She let out a slow exhale. “We have a few names. Fife, but Agatha trusted him and I can’t see him doing something this underhanded. Cressida, Agatha’s former assistant, who quit a few months ago. She caused drama before she left, and she’s been around since before the start of the merger. She had ample opportunity.” 

Penelope’s lips pursed. “Then there’s Rae, which I’m having a really hard time wrapping my head around. She’s been my rock these last months. If it’s her…” She trailed off, because even as she said it, a part of her remembered Laura’s warning. Wolves in sheep’s clothing. 

“I’m at a loss,” she admitted softly. “It could be someone else entirely, someone we’re not even thinking of.” 

Colin squeezed her hand, anchoring her. “This is serious,” he agreed quietly. “If there’s an inside partner, bringing in that outside firm Laura suggested is a good idea. Someone who can trace the leaks without bias.”

Penelope nodded, relieved he understood. “Yes, I think so. I hate the idea of bringing in outsiders, but we need to know who we can trust.” 

“What about Anthony?” Colin asked. His voice was careful. “He probably should be told about all this. He knows more about this side of business than I do, and you know I'm happy to be an ear and represent BPC, but he's going to be the one with the best advice." 

She considered this, teeth worrying her bottom lip. "Absolutely. I hadn't gotten that far, thinking this through. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I even have to worry about this. I should have known better that Radcliffe didn't cause all this damage on his own.” 

“Cut yourself some slack,” Colin said gently. "It's not like you haven't had enough on your plate. Industry espionage wasn't exactly on your Bingo card." 

Penelope laughed. "No, it certainly wasn't." 

Her shoulders dropped a fraction. She was so tired of suspicion and doubt and fear. “Alright,” she said, grateful. “I’ll talk to Anthony tomorrow and see what he says. Right now, though, I’m ready to just forget for a bit and just… breathe.” 

The waiter arrived with their meals, and for a few precious minutes, they focused on the comforting familiarity of battered fish, crispy chips, and tangy tartar sauce. 

Trying to fill in some gaps from the years he was stupid, Colin asked her about her university days, curious about who she’d become in the years he was gone. 

Penelope told him about her last semester at UCL, how she’d balanced studying and writing, how she’d landed her first role at Danbury Publishing through sheer perseverance and Agatha’s discerning eye for talent. 

They fell into easy laughter when she recounted a silly anecdote about a Halloween costume malfunction that left her ass hanging out in front of a group of tourists. 

They were laughing so hard they were crying, and Colin choked out, "Please tell me there isn't a picture of your arse somewhere out on the internet." 

Pen wiped her eyes. "Oh my god, probably. Luckily, you couldn't see my face, so unless you're well acquainted with what my butt looks like, you'd have no idea it was me." 

Colin smirked and raised his eyebrows and Pen rolled her eyes. 

He studied her face, noticing how, in these moments of storytelling, some of the shadows left her eyes. This was what he wanted: to know the Penelope she had become, to learn all the pieces he’d missed. If it took time, he would give it. 

They were so focused on each other, on rediscovering the subtle joys of each other’s company, that at first, they barely registered the voice calling Penelope’s name from across the dining room. 

The laughter at their table dissolved as if it had never existed. Penelope’s name hung in the air, carrying with it a weight that pulled the world off balance. She turned toward the voice slowly, as if hoping she was mistaken, but the expression on her face as her eyes landed on the source said otherwise.

Across the dining room stood a tall, blonde-haired man, his gaze riveted to her. He looked hesitant, unsure, but there was no mistaking the intensity in his eyes. Penelope’s reaction was immediate and visceral - her shoulders went rigid, her breath hitched, and her complexion paled as the blood had drained from her face.

Colin felt the shift in her before he fully registered it. The warmth and ease that had enveloped them moments ago had been replaced by something stark and unnerving. He followed her gaze to the stranger. The man was handsome in a sharp, almost too-perfect way, the kind of person who turned heads in any room. But it wasn’t his looks that caught Colin’s attention; it was the invisible thread connecting him to Penelope, crackling with unspoken history.

“Penelope,” the man said again, softer this time, taking a step closer.

Colin’s eyes darted to her, hoping for a clue, an explanation, anything that would help him make sense of the tension rolling off her in waves. She wasn’t looking at him, however. Her focus was entirely on this man - Alfred, as she had just whispered in a voice tinged with disbelief and something else he couldn’t quite name. Pain? Regret?

“Alfred,” she said again, her voice firmer this time but no less taut. Her grip on her napkin was so tight that Colin wondered if it might tear.

The man hesitated at the edge of their table, a mix of longing and hesitation playing across his features. Colin’s unease deepened. This wasn’t just some casual acquaintance or a blast from the past. Whatever history Penelope had with Alfred, it was layered and complicated, and it was unfolding right in front of him like a car crash.

“Pen,” Colin said gently, breaking the silence that had grown unbearably heavy. “Is everything alright?”

Her eyes flicked to his for the briefest moment, and what he saw there twisted something inside him. Guilt. Pain. Maybe most frustratingly, a hint of something he couldn’t identify - something reserved for this Alfred person.

Colin’s stomach sank. He wanted to ask who this man was, why Penelope was reacting like she’d seen a ghost. Her expression stopped him, though. She looked like someone balancing on a tightrope, one misstep away from falling.

“I - ” Penelope started, then stopped, her throat working around the words. She finally looked back at Alfred, her voice unsteady. “It’s good to see you.”

Alfred’s mouth twisted into a semblance of a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I didn’t expect to run into you. I just got back to London and… well, here you are.”

It was clear to Colin that Alfred and Penelope were more than mere acquaintances. There was too much intensity in the way he watched her, as if searching for something. Penelope’s shock was evident, and it was the kind of surprise that didn’t leave one feeling warm and fuzzy. This was a man she had known - intimately, deeply - and his sudden appearance had shattered the fragile calm she had begun to rebuild tonight.

“Here I am.” Penelope’s voice was tight, her fingers now white-knuckled against the napkin. She still hadn’t introduced Colin, which left him sitting there, feeling like an intruder at his own table.

Alfred’s gaze flicked to him then, the flicker of a question in his eyes. He stuck out his hand. “Alfred Debling. And you are?” 

It was Colin’s turn to feel something tighten inside him. Possessiveness? Maybe. Defensiveness? Definitely. More than that though, a deep unease at being an outsider in a moment that felt too intimate to watch but impossible to turn away from.

“Colin Bridgerton,” he said, extending a hand. His tone was polite, almost casual, but there was an edge to it that he didn’t bother to hide. “A friend of Penelope’s.”

Penelope’s lips pressed into a thin line at the word friend , and for a moment, Colin wondered if he’d chosen wrong. However, she didn’t correct him, didn’t offer any further explanation. Neither did Alfred, who let go of Colin’s hand before turning his full attention back to Penelope.

Colin watched the two of them, a silent conversation passing between their eyes, thick with history and things left unsaid. He felt like an afterthought, a shadow sitting at a table that suddenly belonged to someone else. The easy connection he and Penelope had shared mere moments ago now felt fragile, as though Alfred’s arrival had rewritten the rules of the evening without Colin’s consent.

“Nell,” Alfred began, voice low. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I just… I couldn’t leave without saying hello. It’s been too long.”

Her smile was tremulous. “It has. I hope your travels went well.”

The shakiness of her voice made Colin tense, and Alfred swallowed hard, a look of pain crossing his face.

“We did what we set out to do,” Alfred said quietly. “It’s good to be home though. I’ve missed London.” It was clear it wasn’t London he was speaking about. 

Colin felt something twist inside him, a mixture of protectiveness and helplessness. He wanted to stand, to put himself between Penelope and whatever this man represented, but he didn’t know how. Instead, he sat there, watching as she fought a battle he was sure she didn’t want him to see.

“I’m sure you have.” Her voice cracked, just slightly, and it was enough to make Colin’s chest ache.

For a moment, Alfred didn’t respond. Then he inclined his head, stepping back. “Sorry for interrupting your evening.” He nodded slightly at Colin, then turned to Pen. “I hope we might be able to catch up soon, Nell.” 

Giving her a sad smile, he turned and disappeared into the restaurant, leaving silence in his wake.

Penelope exhaled shakily, her hands trembling as they returned to her lap. Colin started to put his hand across the table instinctively, but pulled back when she didn’t move. “Pen,” he said softly. “Are you okay?”

She didn’t answer right away, her gaze fixed on the table as though it held all the answers she couldn’t give. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

Colin’s heart sank further, the gap between them feeling impossibly wide. 

She looked up at him then, and Colin saw how shattered she was, their easy camaraderie from early completely gone.

“I’m sorry, but I’d like to go home. Can we leave?” Pen placed her napkin on the table and stood, without waiting for Colin’s reply, and walked toward the exit with swift strides. 

“Well, hell.” Colin muttered, before he paid the bill and followed her.

Chapter Text

The rain had returned, tapping softly against Colin’s window as he stared out at the drenched street below. London’s gray skies mirrored the weight in his chest, and he wondered - not for the first time that week - if Penelope was feeling the same heaviness.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her, about the way she’d looked as he drove her home after their dinner. Her usual spark, that quiet strength he so admired, had seemed dimmed, buried beneath something he couldn’t name. The car ride had been thick with unspoken words, the air between them brittle and fragile, as if even the sound of her voice might shatter it. When she’d finally stepped out and turned to say goodbye, her voice had been so soft, so unlike her, that he almost didn’t hear it at all. Then the door had closed, shutting her away.

Since then, it felt like Penelope had been slipping further out of reach.

In the days that followed, he’d tried to breach the distance, falling into familiar patterns. Texts sprinkled with dry humor or memes she used to laugh at. Surprise visits to her office bearing tea and pastries. Offers to help dig deeper into Radcliffe’s mysterious partner. She accepted each gesture graciously, her smiles warm, her thanks genuine - but her eyes remained guarded. He could feel the return of something he thought they’d left behind: the invisible walls she’d once kept so firmly between them.

That heaviness she carried, the one he’d noticed in her after Agatha’s decision, was back. It draped over her like a shadow she didn’t want to acknowledge, let alone share. And though she remained kind - Penelope was always kind - her distance felt sharper this time. The light, teasing openness he’d started to treasure in her was gone, as though it had been snuffed out by something unseen.

He didn’t have to guess what - or rather, who - might be at the root of it. Alfred. Just the thought of that name set his teeth on edge. Whoever he was, whatever had happened that night, it had been enough to shake her. Enough to carve that look of raw pain into her features. And as much as Colin wanted to demand answers, to untangle whatever was hurting her, he knew he couldn’t.

She’d asked him not to push once before. If he ignored that now, if he tried to force his way past those walls, he’d lose her completely. So he waited. He offered what he could - steadfast presence, quiet support - and hoped that when she was ready, she’d let him back in.

While he let Penelope set the pace, Colin’s mind spun through everything else unfolding. Agatha had officially stopped her treatments, and palliative care had begun. From what Penelope had shared, Simon was balancing his time better, ensuring Penelope wasn’t shouldering the entire emotional weight alone. The team caring for Agatha had earned everyone’s respect, offering genuine compassion as her time dwindled. Her estranged children remained silent, which was no shock to anyone.

Penelope, undeterred by grief, had spoken to Anthony about their suspicions of an inside collaborator working with Radcliffe. Anthony agreed wholeheartedly that an outside firm should be brought in. He’d decided to keep Benedict and Daphne out of the loop until absolutely necessary. When Eloise returned from Portugal, they’d bring her in as BPC’s legal perspective. Until then, Penelope and Anthony were treading carefully, reviewing every process and person around them.

Fife, Cressida, RaeAnne continued to round out the top three as potential suspects. Penelope looked genuinely heartbroken at the thought RaeAnne might be involved. 

“Colin, I can’t imagine it’s her,” Penelope said quietly, twisting a ring on her right hand. He’d noticed the gesture enough times now to know she did it when her anxiety spiked. “I’ve trusted RaeAnne with so much, and she’s proven herself at every turn.”

They were in his car, stopped at a traffic light on their way toward her flat. It was a rare evening where they managed to leave Danbury’s offices at the same time. She’d initially declined his offer to drive her, but when he’d pulled out a set of puppy-dog eyes, she had relented with a reluctant smirk. Truth be told, Penelope had missed the closeness they were nurturing before the weight of everything had forced her to barricade herself behind old walls. Seeing Alfred had thrown her completely off balance, and she wasn’t sure her overloaded mind could handle letting Colin in further at the moment. A quiet ride home, though? That was manageable.

“I know,” Colin said, glancing at her from the corner of his eye as the car rolled forward again. “I’m having trouble believing it too.”

He eased onto a quieter street, the headlights bathing the pavement in gold. “Daphne mentioned RaeAnne to me, actually. Something about how familiar she seemed, though she couldn’t place her. It’s odd.”

Penelope’s brow furrowed, adding another crease of concern to her tired expression. “Familiar? Really?” She shook her head slowly. “I never met RaeAnne before her interview. Her résumé was impeccable, references all checked out, and nothing flagged in her background check. She started long before the merger talks were even on the table, so there has never been any reason to doubt her.”

Colin pulled up in front of her building and parked, shifting into park as he turned to face her. “Then it must be someone else,” he agreed. “I just wish I knew who it was. We’re all feeling around in the dark here.”

“Yeah,” she sighed, leaning back against the headrest. The building’s entry light cast a warm glow across her face, highlighting the fatigue etched around her eyes. “You and me both.”

Silence settled, comfortable and heavy at once. Penelope smoothed the strap of her bag and offered him a small smile. “Thanks for driving me home,” she said softly.

He reached out without thinking, his hand falling to her shoulder, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. The tension beneath his fingers was palpable. He began to knead the tight muscle there, his fingertips trying to coax away the day’s burdens.

She let out a low, unexpected moan, angling her body slightly to give him easier access. “God, that feels good,” she murmured, her voice laced with gratitude and something else that sent heat curling through his stomach.

Colin forced himself to keep his touch innocent, his mind firmly tethered. He was sharply aware of her response, giving him a glimpse of how much stress she carried and how desperately she needed simple kindness.

When she turned her head, their eyes met in the soft light. Her lashes cast delicate shadows on her cheeks. “Now I need to find room on my calendar for a proper massage,” she said dryly, but there was humor in her tone.

The first thing that popped into his mind slipped out before he could stop it. “Treat yo’ self,” he said, then immediately cringed. God, what a line to drop in the middle of the first real moment they’d had in a week. 

Penelope burst out laughing, bright and clear, a sound he hadn’t realized he was starving for. “What was that?” she managed through giggles, shaking her head in disbelief.

Colin shook his head, grinning sheepishly. “I have no idea,” he admitted. Her laughter was worth every ounce of embarrassment.

Her expression softened, and she reached up, taking his hand from her shoulder and bringing it down into her lap, lacing her fingers through his. “Whatever it was, I needed it,” she said, her voice quieter now, warm and honest. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” he said softly, his heart feeling lighter than it had in days. Her small hand wrapped around his was enough to send a surge of warmth coursing through him.

She squeezed his hand before letting it go. “See you in the morning?” she asked, gathering her bag. The car door clicked as she prepared to step out.

“With tea and scones,” he promised, leaning forward so they maintained eye contact for a moment longer.

She smiled - a real, genuine smile that reached her eyes. “You know the way to a girl’s heart, Bridgerton.”

As she stepped out, her grin lingered, and she gave him a small wave before heading inside. The door to her building closed quietly behind her, and Colin stared at it for a few extra seconds, replaying every second of their conversation.

“I’m working on it,” he whispered to himself with a hopeful smile, before pulling away from the curb. He was heading back to his own quiet, empty flat, but tonight, the silence there wouldn’t feel so lonely. Not after seeing that spark return to Penelope’s eyes, if only for a few brief moments.

The next morning, Colin arrived at Danbury, balancing take-out cups of tea and coffee, and a small bag of scones for Pen, RaeAnne and himself. He’d stuck to his usual routine. If RaeAnne was Radcliffe’s partner, he didn’t want to give her any reason to think something had changed until they had proof. God, it was exhausting though. He wasn’t cut out for cloak and dagger. He hated questioning everyone and every interaction. Was he seeing conspiracies where there were none?

“Morning, Rae,” he said brightly, placing a cup and a scone on her desk. “Figured you might want your usual.”

RaeAnne looked up from her monitor, offering a smile that seemed genuine. “Thanks, Colin. You’re a lifesaver.” 

He mustered a casual grin, keeping his eyes relaxed, trying not to let any suspicion slip. “Just doing my part to keep morale up.”

She took a sip of tea and sighed softly. “We all need a little morale boost these days.” Her gaze flicked toward Penelope’s closed office door. “Has Penelope said anything to you about what’s going on? She’s been…distant lately. I’m worried about her.”

Colin tilted his head, forcing himself into an empathetic posture. RaeAnne was Pen’s right-hand woman, so of course she’d worry. Or was she fishing for information? Damn it, Colin, stop being paranoid , he scolded himself silently. 

“Not much,” he answered, keeping his tone gentle. “She’s under a lot of stress with Agatha’s health, the merger...you know how it is.”

RaeAnne pressed her lips together. “It feels like more than that. I’ve noticed she’s pulling back from me, not sharing the usual updates. I’m used to being in the loop.” She fiddled with her tea’s plastic lid, a nervous gesture that could mean anything or nothing.

Colin shrugged lightly, going for a reassuring angle rather than defensive. “Maybe she’s just trying to protect you from the worst of it. Penelope has this habit of carrying too many burdens on her own shoulders.” He paused, weighing how much truth to spill. He decided on mostly the truth. “She’s been distant with me too, and it’s been hard, but I try to remember that Agatha stopping treatment is probably really eating at her and she’s grieving.” 

RaeAnne’s brow knitted. She hesitated, then cleared her throat. “You’re right. I just wonder if there’s more.” Glancing up at him, she said, “I probably shouldn’t say anything, but…” 

He tilted his head, adopting a gentle, reassuring expression. “Hey, I get it. You’re just looking out for Pen. If it’s something you’re not comfortable sharing, then you don’t have to,” he said softly, trying to convey sincerity without putting pressure on her.

For a moment, the air between them held a quiet tension. RaeAnne seemed to grapple internally, and Colin offered a small, encouraging smile.

“She received an email from her ex-fiancé, asking to meet up.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes. 

Colin’s stomach twisted. Ex-fiancé. She’d been engaged? Was it that Alfred guy? He tried to keep his reaction mild, taking a measured sip of his coffee. “I see.” 

RaeAnne offered a small shrug, her eyes still not meeting Colin’s. “I saw it when I was sorting through her emails. She’s been so swamped, I’ve been filtering out non-urgent messages. Normally I wouldn’t tell you something so personal, but…” 

She sighed again, looking genuinely uncertain. “I’m telling you because I’m concerned. With everything else going on, I know she doesn’t need anything else on her plate. I hope I’m not overstepping by sharing this with you. I just know how close you guys are and hope that she’s talking to you…or someone.” 

Was that sincerity or manipulation? Was she just being a good employee looking out for her boss, or was this part of some grand game? Colin hated that he couldn’t tell. He’d never been so suspicious in his life. “I understand why you told me,” he said carefully, trying to temper the questions he was dying to ask with caring and understanding toward Rae spilling Pen’s secrets. “You care about Pen, and you want someone to know what’s going on in case she’s too overwhelmed. Believe me, I want what’s best for her too.”

RaeAnne gave a slow nod. “This is all just…complicated. I feel like I’m missing pieces of the puzzle.”

You and me both , Colin thought bitterly. Out loud, he said, “We all are. Let’s trust Penelope’s judgment. If this email upsets her, I’m sure she’ll handle it how she feels best. We’ll just be here for us if she needs us.”

A flicker of relief seemed to pass over RaeAnne’s face. Or was he imagining it? He couldn’t be sure. He felt like he was trying to read a book in a language he’d never learned. If RaeAnne was involved in Radcliffe’s scheme, how could he tell?

“Thanks, Colin,” she said softly. “I appreciate your perspective.”

He lifted his cup in a small, nonchalant salute and took a step back. “Anytime. Let’s just keep things running smoothly, yeah?” Then, before he lingered too long, he walked away, heading towards Penelope’s office.

As he moved down the hall, he could feel RaeAnne’s eyes lingering on him, as if weighing his words, testing his sincerity. He offered no backward glance, sticking to the role of supportive colleague. Inside, his mind churned. She could be innocent and genuinely concerned, or she could be calculating, dropping this detail about the ex-fiancé to stir something up. He hated second-guessing people this way.

This was all uncharted territory for Colin. He wasn’t a spy, and he despised feeling paranoid about people he’d trusted without question before. However, Penelope’s safety, her future - and the company’s - depended on uncovering the truth. So he would play his part, keep his cool, and hope that eventually the pieces would fall into place, revealing friend from foe and giving him a clear path forward.

At least he knew one thing: the reemergence of the ex-fiancé bothered him more than he cared to admit. Of course Penelope didn’t owe him anything, but they’d been growing closer, sharing pieces of themselves. Finding out about an ex-fiancé through RaeAnne left a sour taste in his mouth. It was another layer of mystery he didn’t need right now.

Still, he reminded himself, Pen was carrying enormous burdens. She didn’t need him confronting her about an ex-fiancé right now, no matter how jealous or annoyed he felt. He’d keep it to himself, at least until she was ready to talk. Patience. He had to maintain patience.

For now, he’d keep being the steady presence Penelope needed, no matter what twists fate threw in his path.

The next morning, Penelope stepped into her office and paused at the sight of lilies arranged in a delicate glass vase on her desk. A soft floral scent drifted toward her, and she approached slowly, heart twisting with uncertainty. A small card rested among the blooms.

Dearest Nell, 

The lilies reminded me of you and your warmth and your grace. Leaving wasn’t easy, and not a day goes by that I don’t wonder what might have been.

I'd love a chance to catch up. Know that you’ll always have a piece of my heart.

Always,
Alfred

Penelope swallowed, setting the card aside with careful fingers. The gesture was thoughtful; Alfred always had known her favorite flowers, but the timing felt off. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to reopen old wounds or rehash the past. When they broke up, it had hurt them both badly and they hadn’t really spoken since he left for his research trip. With all the emotional turmoil spinning around her, did she really need another layer of complication?

She sat down, running a thumb over the smooth surface of the card, lost in thought. Colin knocked gently on her open door, pulling her attention away.

“Morning, Pen,” Colin said, stepping inside with her cup of tea and his coffee in hand. His eyes landed immediately on the lilies sitting on her desk. “Nice flowers.”

Penelope’s stomach tightened. She forced a small, neutral smile. “Yes. An old friend sent them.”

Colin raised a brow. “Old friend?” he echoed, glancing between her and the bouquet. His tone was casual, but his eyes were curious. He knew her well enough to sense her trepidation.

She hesitated, then cleared her throat, deciding there was no point in dodging. “They’re from Alfred.”

Colin’s expression sharpened slightly. “Alfred,” he repeated. “Would this happen to be the same Alfred we saw the other night?” His voice remained carefully neutral, but the tightening of his shoulders gave him away.

Penelope brushed a fingertip over the edge of a petal, her gaze fixed on the lilies. “Yes,” she admitted quietly. “Alfred Debling. We were…engaged.”

Colin blinked, jealousy flickering across his face before he masked it. “Engaged?”

She nodded, finally looking up to meet his gaze. “About two years ago. Three months after we got engaged, he was offered a job in New Brunswick. He’s a brilliant researcher, it was a prestigious opportunity, and he wanted to take it.” Her voice softened, tinged with regret. “I couldn’t leave. My life…everything I built was here. He went, and we ended things because neither of us was willing to make the other give up their dream. It wasn’t about not loving each other. It was because we did.”

Colin’s brow furrowed, his silence inviting her to continue.

She exhaled slowly, the memories still tender even now. “It was the hardest decision I’ve ever made. I worried about what kind of marriage we would have had; if resentment would’ve crept in eventually. We agreed it was the right thing to do, and maybe it was, but it doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.” Her fingers grazed the delicate petals again. “And now he’s back. Sending me lilies and asking to catch up.”

Her laugh came out soft and brittle. “I don’t even know what he wants. Closure? A new beginning? With everything else going on right now, I’m not sure I’m ready to find out.”

When she looked back at Colin, his expression was inscrutable, his dark blue eyes holding hers. For a moment, it looked like he wanted to say something, but then he simply nodded, his voice steady when he spoke. “That sounds like a lot to process, Pen.”

She gave a small shrug, a tired smile playing at her lips. “Anyway…”

Colin blinked, as if snapping out of deep thought. “Right,” he murmured, clearing his throat. “Um, here’s your tea.” He placed the cup on her desk, then stepped back, giving her space.

For a moment, he debated what to say next. He wanted to reassure her that he was there for her, that if she needed to talk more, he’d listen with no strings, no judgments. He could sense the weight on her shoulders, the tangle of the past and present closing in on her. He also knew she had limits, and pushing now would only drive her inward.

“If you need to talk about it…or anything else,” he offered gently, voice kept low so it wouldn’t feel like pressure, “I’m here.” His tone made it clear it was an invitation, not an obligation.

Penelope glanced at the tea, then back at him. Her posture was polite but distant. “Thank you,” she said, quiet and firm, as if drawing a line. “I appreciate it, but I’m okay. Thanks for listening.”

He nodded, accepting her boundary without argument. The tension in the room felt like a tight chord, and he realized they both needed breathing room. He also needed time to process what he’d just learned about Alfred, and what it might mean for him and Penelope going forward.

“I left some files here yesterday; production notes I meant to hand off to Benedict,” Colin said, slipping into a practical tone. “I’ll go grab them and then head over to BPC for the day.” 

She managed a small, grateful smile. “Sure, of course. Thanks, Colin.”

As he moved toward the door, he paused, turning slightly. “Hey,” he began quietly, searching her face, “would you have dinner with me tonight?”

Penelope’s eyes flickered with something - surprise, relief - and then she nodded. “Yes. That would be nice.”

He left it at that, giving her a reassuring smile before stepping out into the corridor. A few hours later, as he was sitting at his desk at BPC, he sent a text:
What about dinner at my place tonight? I’ll cook.

He waited, tapping a pen against his keyboard. After a moment, his phone buzzed:
Colin Bridgerton’s legendary cooking? Yes, please! 

A grin tugged at his lips. It would be good, just the two of them, no prying eyes, no tension in a public setting. Maybe they could find a calm harbor in this storm.

Later that day, Penelope slipped out of her office and walked a few blocks to a small French bistro Eloise had chosen for their lunch date. It was a familiar spot; a quiet corner restaurant tucked away from the main streets, with pastel walls and soft music filtering through. The midday rush had eased, leaving only a handful of patrons scattered at the tables.

Eloise was already seated by the window, swirling a spoon absently in her tea. At the sight of Penelope, she brightened, waving her over. “Pen! You look exhausted,” she said, not unkindly, as Penelope settled into the chair opposite her.

Penelope rolled her eyes and offered a tired smile. “Gee thanks, friend. How are you? How’s Phil?”

A warm smile touched Eloise’s lips. “He’s recovering. Still a bit sore, but doing much better, thanks for asking. He’s itching to get back to his greenhouse work, of course, and complaining endlessly about having to sit still.” She rolled her eyes affectionately. “Men.”

Penelope couldn’t help a small laugh. “I’m glad he’s on the mend. And I’m glad you’re back.”

Eloise took a sip of tea, then leaned forward, her eyes keen. “So, Anthony gave me the cliff notes this morning. There’s a traitor at Danbury, someone working with Radcliffe. He said you brought in an outside firm to check it out. That’s…a lot.”

Penelope nodded, the weight of it all pressing on her again. “Yes, we’re waiting to see what this investigative team uncovers. We suspect someone like Fife, or maybe Cressida who quit a few months ago, or…someone else.” She hesitated, thinking of RaeAnne, but decided not to utter the name out loud without proof. “It’s frustrating, playing this waiting game.”

Eloise hummed, tapping a fingernail lightly against her teacup. “So, you’ve got an inside traitor, an outside firm digging around, a precarious merger, and Agatha’s health hanging by a thread. Anything else? Locusts, maybe?” She managed a wry laugh, but it died off when Penelope didn’t join in. Tilting her head, she studied her friend’s face. “Alright, Pen. Spill.”

Penelope set her glass down and inhaled slowly. “I ran into Alfie unexpectedly the other night when I was out to dinner with Colin.”

Eloise’s eyebrows shot up. “Alfred Debling, back in town? Didn’t see that coming.”

Penelope nodded, twisting her napkin between her fingers. “Me neither. We barely spoke, but today he sent lilies to my office with a note saying he’d love to catch up…and that I always have a piece of his heart.”

Eloise’s brows rose higher. “Well, okay then.” She let the silence stretch, acknowledging all that lay unspoken. Alfred’s return, the old hurts, and Penelope’s current storm of responsibilities. “So he’s back and wants to talk, and you’re not sure how you feel about any of it.”

Penelope’s shoulders fell slightly. “Exactly. With everything going on, I’m barely keeping it together. I’m not sure I have the bandwidth to take on my ex-fiance and unresolved feelings.” 

Eloise regarded her closely. “His unresolved feelings or yours?” 

Pen buried her face in her hands. “I don’t know!” She dropped her hands and looked at Eloise, saying, “We broke up and I moved on, but that doesn’t mean I stopped caring about him. It also doesn’t mean I’m open to rekindling anything either.” 

Eloise reached out, resting her hand on Penelope’s arm. “It’s okay if you don’t want to revisit that, you know? You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. You broke up for a reason.”

Penelope offered a small, teary smile. “I know. It just so happens that reason no longer seems to be an issue anymore.” She met Eloise’s eyes. “When the hell did my life get so damn complicated?” 

Eloise leaned back, folding her arms with a thoughtful look. “Speaking of complicated things, should we also talk about my dear brother?” 

Penelope’s heart twisted, though less painfully than it once did at the mention of Colin. Eloise was the only one who knew the full story of how he’d broken Penelope’s heart a decade ago. How Colin and Pen’s friendship had crumbled into distant cordiality. Eloise had - sometimes grudgingly and angrily -  watched from the sidelines as Pen and Colin drifted apart and, more recently, tried to mend what was broken.

Penelope braced herself. “What do you want to know?”

Eloise’s gaze sharpened with curiosity and affection. “Are things better now? Has he finally realized he’s a complete moron?”

Penelope let out a quiet laugh. “Oh, he knows,” she said softly, glancing down at her hands. “I think he’s changed, El. I’ve told him off, given him the cold shoulder, put up walls, but he keeps showing up being patient, supportive, steady. He’s there in ways I never thought he could be, or would be. I’m starting to believe he really isn’t the person I thought he’d become.”

Eloise’s smile was warm, her eyes bright with understanding. “I’ve seen it too. He’s settled down in London instead of running off, and when he talks about you… you can just tell he’s determined to earn your trust. I’m glad you’re seeing it, too.”

Penelope exhaled, relief mixing with cautious hope. “It’s different this time, El. It feels real.”

Eloise nodded, her voice gentle and certain. “Then trust yourself. If you believe he’s changed, you can trust him. You know damn well I’d tell you differently if I thought so.” 

Penelope’s voice was quiet but firm. “I trust him now, in a way my younger self never could, even when we were best friends. He’s proven himself over and over again.”

Eloise leaned in, resting her chin on her hand. “I’m not going to warn you to be careful. You’ve had enough of that from everyone, including your own mind.” She paused, choosing her words with care. “If you’re ready, if you’re truly seeing the man he’s become rather than the boy he once was - then take the chance.”

Penelope’s breath caught at how closely Eloise’s words echoed Agatha’s. Tears pricked behind her eyes as she smiled gratefully. “I appreciate that, El.”

Eloise reached over, squeezing Penelope’s hand. “You deserve happiness, Penelope. Whether it’s trusting Colin again, or revisiting things with Alfred, or solving the mystery of Radcliffe’s partner - this is your life. Make choices that move you toward the future you want.”

Penelope’s heart felt lighter, even as the world outside remained fraught with challenges. “Thank you,” she said softly, meaning it more than ever. “I needed that.”

Eloise grinned, leaning back as their food arrived. “Now, let’s enjoy lunch. I’m starving, and ready for some good ol’ English cooking.”

Penelope laughed quietly, picking up her fork. As they began to eat, she realized how comforting it was to have a friend who knew her history and supported her without reservation. Surrounded by uncertainty, Penelope held tight to the reassurance Eloise offered, and it steadied her resolve for whatever lay ahead.

Chapter Text

The next evening found Colin hunched over a pint at Mondrich’s, his mind still circling the moment Penelope left him at the restaurant. 

A full day had passed, and yet the tension between them hung heavy in his thoughts, unresolved and prickly. He’d tried distracting himself with work at BPC, even considered stopping by Danbury Publishing, but he knew pushing too soon would only worsen things.

So here he was, in a warm pub with friendly faces, hoping a bit of camaraderie and honest talk might help him find a path forward.

“You’ve been nursing that drink for the better part of an hour,” Will remarked as he approached, his deep voice breaking through Colin’s reverie. He slid into the seat opposite Colin, folding his arms on the table. “I didn’t think you were the type to let a pint go warm.”

Colin glanced up, managing a faint smile. “I guess I wasn’t in the mood for a drink tonight after all.”

Will raised an eyebrow. “You came to a pub for a bit of soul-searching, then?”

“Something like that,” Colin muttered, taking a half-hearted sip before setting the glass down again.

Will studied him for a moment, his sharp gaze missing nothing. “What’s eating at you, Bridgerton?”

“It’s Penelope,” Colin admitted, surprising himself with how quickly the words came out.

Will leaned back in his chair, giving him a knowing look. “Ah. The famous Miss Featherington. Go on, then.”

Colin sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “She’s got a lot going on, and now some guy from her past decides it’s the perfect time to show up.”

Will’s brow furrowed. “An ex?”

“Not just an ex. Her ex-fiancé,” Colin practically snarled. “He showed up to say hello while we were out to dinner last night. It threw her for a loop.”

Will let out a low whistle, crossing his arms. “How’s Penelope handling all this?”

“She’s pulling back again,” Colin said, his frustration clear. “Putting up walls. I get it. She’s overwhelmed, and she’s always been the type to carry everything on her own, but it’s killing me to watch her shut me out.” He paused, lowering his voice. “I’m falling in love with her, Will. I don’t know if she feels the same, or if I’m just making things harder for her by being here.”

Will was quiet for a moment, his expression thoughtful. Finally, he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “You’re in a tough spot, mate, no doubt about it. But let me ask you this - does she know how you feel?”

Colin hesitated, then shook his head. “Not exactly.”

“There’s your problem,” Will said, his tone blunt but not unkind. “You’re tiptoeing around her, trying not to push, and that’s fine, but if she doesn’t know where you stand, how’s she supposed to trust you with what she’s dealing with?”

“I don’t want to overwhelm her,” Colin said, his voice low.

“Overwhelming her would be demanding answers she’s not ready to give,” Will pointed out. “Being honest, however? Telling her you’re there for her, no matter what? That’s not pushing. That’s being the kind of man she can count on.”

Colin leaned back in his chair, Will’s words settling over him like a challenge. He’d been doing everything he could to support Penelope - showing up, being patient, giving her the space she’d asked for - but maybe that space had become its own kind of wall. A way for both of them to avoid the harder conversations, the deeper truths.

He exhaled slowly, running a hand over the back of his neck. “I’ve been standing beside her, Will. I’ve tried to be exactly what she needs, but maybe I’ve taken that too far. Maybe I’ve made it too easy for her to keep me at arm’s length.”

Will nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Could be,” he said. “Sometimes, waiting too long to say what you really mean makes it feel like you’re not there at all. People don’t always need answers, but they do need honesty.” Will gave him a small, encouraging smile. “You’ve got a good heart, Bridgerton. Trust it.”

Colin drained the rest of his pint and stood, pulling on his jacket.

“Off to make your grand declaration?” Will asked, raising an eyebrow.

Colin shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “Not yet, but I think it’s time I stopped sitting on the sidelines.”

Will nodded approvingly, raising his glass. “Good man. And, Colin?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time you’re brooding, don’t make it a habit of drinking my beer so slow. You’re wasting perfectly good lager.”

Colin let out a laugh, the first real one in days. “Noted.”

He left the pub with a lighter step, the weight of indecision lifting as resolve took its place. Whatever happened next, he wasn’t going to hold back anymore.

Penelope sat at the head of the long conference table, a thick folder of documents spread open in front of her. The air in the room was heavy with unspoken tension, the faint scratching of Anthony’s pen as he jotted notes the only sound. They had met at BPC to discuss what the firm had found so far, and make plans moving forward. 

The report from the outside investigators lay between them, filled with spreadsheets, timelines, and preliminary findings that painted a damning but still incomplete picture. Each page seemed to taunt her with its lack of answers.

Anthony sighed, setting his pen down and leaning back in his chair. “It’s all circumstantial,” he said, his frustration evident. “Nothing we can act on. Not yet.”

Penelope nodded, pinching the bridge of her nose as a dull ache throbbed behind her temples. “I know. And the longer this drags on, the more time Radcliffe and his partner have to do damage.” Her voice cracked slightly on the last word, and she cleared her throat. “I hate waiting, Anthony. We’re spinning our wheels.”

Anthony leaned forward, his eyes softening. “We’re closer than we were,” he offered, though his tone was measured.

“Not close enough,” she murmured. Her gaze dropped to the report, her pen tapping a restless rhythm against the table. “Fife, Cressida, RaeAnne…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “It could be any of them—or none of them. Maybe it’s someone we haven’t even considered.”

Anthony folded his arms across his chest. “You trust RaeAnne, don’t you?”

Penelope hesitated, her thumb absently twisting the ring on her right hand. “I did. She’s been by my side through so much. I want to believe it’s not her, but…” She exhaled sharply. “I don’t know, Anthony. Everyone feels like a suspect right now.”

“That’s by design,” Anthony said grimly. “Radcliffe’s counting on our mistrust to tear us apart from the inside.”

Penelope pushed the file away, frustration lining her features. “I hate second-guessing everyone. It’s exhausting, Anthony. These are people I’ve relied on for years.”

“You’re doing everything you can,” Anthony said firmly. “Bringing in the investigators was the right call.”

She gave him a faint smile, though her eyes remained clouded. “Sometimes it doesn’t feel that way.”

The door creaked open, and Colin stepped in, followed by Eloise, whose sharp gaze swept over the room. Colin carried a folder under one arm and two takeaway cups of coffee in his hands.

“Thought you could use this,” he said lightly, placing a cup in front of Penelope. His gaze lingered on her for a moment, his steady presence wrapping around her like a balm.

“Thanks,” she said softly, her fingers curling around the warmth of the cup.

Eloise pulled out a chair beside Penelope, plopping into it with little ceremony. “Any progress?” she asked, looking between Anthony and Penelope.

Anthony gestured to the stack of papers in front of him. “Nothing concrete,” he said with a shake of his head. “Just enough breadcrumbs to keep us guessing.”

Penelope frowned, flipping through a page. “I thought we’d have something solid by now,” she said, her tone heavy with frustration. “It doesn’t feel like it should take this long.”

Colin sat down and leaned back, crossing his arms. “Whoever this is, they’re good at covering their tracks. Or they’ve got help.”

Penelope looked between Colin and Anthony, her mind racing. “Colin, did Daphne say anything else about RaeAnne? About why she thinks she looks familiar?”

Colin frowned, his brow furrowing. “Only that it’s been bothering her. Like she’s seen RaeAnne somewhere before but can’t place it. It’s odd—Daphne usually remembers faces.”

“It’s more than odd,” Penelope murmured, her thoughts churning. “Do you think the investigators should look into RaeAnne more closely?”

Anthony considered her question, his expression unreadable. “It’s worth following up on,” he said finally. “We’ll need to tread carefully though. If RaeAnne’s guilty, we don’t want her catching wind of our doubts and having our hand tipped.” 

Penelope nodded, though her shoulders sagged under the weight of the decision. “I know. I just…” She shook her head. “I hate feeling like this. If she’s guilty, I want to know before she can hurt us more. If she’s innocent…” Her voice broke slightly. “She deserves better than this.”

Eloise leaned forward, her expression unusually serious. “I’m just going to say it,” she said, her voice cutting through the tension. “I think we need to bring in our own people.”

Penelope raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Eloise gestured at the files spread across the table. “Look, I realize we’re dealing with professionals, but Radcliffe’s not some criminal mastermind. He’s sloppy. Whoever’s helping him can’t be that much better. The fact that this firm hasn’t found anything concrete yet…” She trailed off meaningfully.

Anthony narrowed his eyes. “You think the firm’s compromised?”

“Not necessarily,” Eloise said, shrugging. “But it’s a possibility, isn’t it? Your lawyer told you not to trust anyone, Pen. Why are we trusting someone she recommended?”

Penelope opened her mouth to respond, then hesitated, the words dying on her lips.

Eloise leaned closer, her voice firm but not unkind. “I’m not saying your lawyer’s in on it. I’m saying that if we can’t trust anyone, we need to stop assuming the people we hired are infallible. Radcliffe’s already proven he’s willing to play dirty. If the firm is reporting to someone who’s in his pocket - or if someone’s feeding them bad intel - we could be running in circles forever.”

Colin nodded, his expression grim. “She’s got a point. What if someone’s manipulating the firm from the inside?”

Anthony leaned back, his fingers tapping against the armrest. “It’s possible,” he said slowly. “How do we deal with it, though? Bringing in another firm will take time we don’t have.”

“Who said anything about another firm?” Eloise asked, smirking. “I can do it.”

Colin snorted. “You?”

Eloise rolled her eyes. “Yes, me. I can’t do worse than these so-called professionals, can I? I’m tenacious, I’m thorough, and most importantly, no one expects me to be digging into this.”

Colin turned to Penelope and Anthony. “She’s not wrong. She’s the only person I trust completely outside of this room. At least this way, we’re coming at it from more than one angle.”

Penelope sighed, glancing at Anthony. “What do you think?”

Anthony shook his head, but there was a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I think this sounds like even more of a nightmare. But…I don’t see a better option.”

Penelope looked at Eloise, who was practically bouncing in her chair with enthusiasm. “Fine,” she said finally. “Just be careful.”

Eloise grinned. “Always.”

The tension in the room eased slightly, the faintest flicker of hope sparking to life.

Despite Colin offering, Penelope decided to get an Uber back to her office. She needed a chance to be alone, to be surrounded by quiet and no one else for just a bit. 

RaeAnne wasn’t at her desk when Penelope returned, which she was thankful for in the grand scheme of things. She didn’t think she had it in her to pretend everything was okay when it wasn’t - in more ways than one. 

She reached her desk and sank into the chair, placing her bag down and pulling Alfred’s card from its pocket. The cream-colored cardstock was elegant, understated - just like Alfred. Her eyes lingered on his familiar handwriting. "Would love to catch up," the note read, the words simple yet loaded.

A bitter memory surfaced: a summer evening years ago, the two of them laughing under the fairy lights of a garden party. His hand had felt warm in hers, steady, certain. That certainty had shattered months later when they’d made the painful decision to end their relationship. 

She set the card down with a sigh. Did she even want to respond? Reaching out might reopen old wounds. Ignoring it wouldn’t make the pain fade. And then there were the flowers. The bouquet of lilies now sat on the table in her living room, their delicate fragrance a reminder of everything unresolved. A cruel symbol of the past interrupting her already-chaotic present.

Radcliffe’s games, Agatha’s health, and now Alfred - her mind swirled with too many threads of anxiety. Penelope rested her head in her hands. What would acknowledging Alfred’s return achieve? But could she really ignore him forever? Her phone buzzed softly, but she didn’t check it. She couldn’t decide. Not yet.

Several days passed in a blur of work and restless nights. Penelope threw herself into the tasks at hand, her mind vacillating between the problems at Danbury, notes from Agatha’s care team, and the note from Alfred. Each morning, the sight of the lilies in her living room rekindled the knot of emotions she’d been trying to ignore. She didn’t have the luxury to dwell on the past for long, though. Between strategy meetings, calls with Agatha’s doctor, and keeping Radcliffe’s sabotage at bay, time marched forward, pulling her along with it.

It wasn’t until the following week that she allowed herself a reprieve, one she hadn’t planned but desperately needed.

The smell of garlic and rosemary filled Colin’s cozy flat as Penelope stepped inside, her fingers still clutching her coat tightly. The space glowed warmly with lamplight, a stark contrast to the sterile office she’d left behind. She could hear soft jazz playing from the speakers and Colin humming along as he stirred something in a pan. The domesticity of it all tugged at her, both comforting and disarming.

“You’re just in time,” Colin called over his shoulder, glancing back to flash her a grin. “Take a seat; dinner’s almost ready.”

She hesitated for a moment, then hung her coat on the rack and stepped into the dining area. The table was set for two with mismatched plates and a vase holding a single sunflower in the center. The gesture was so achingly simple and kind that her throat tightened.

Colin joined her a few minutes later, setting the dish of pasta down with a flourish. “This masterpiece,” he said, gesturing dramatically, “is the result of hours of culinary dedication.”

Penelope arched an eyebrow, already feeling her mood lighten. “Hours? I’m pretty sure I saw you at the office an hour ago.”

He placed a hand over his chest, feigning offense. “Are you questioning my integrity as a chef?”

“Just your timeline,” she said, spearing a forkful of pasta. She took a bite and paused, eyes widening. “Okay, I’ll admit… this is pretty good.”

“Pretty good?” Colin repeated, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “That’s the kind of review you give a frozen dinner. Come on, Pen, give me something to work with.”

“Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes but smiling. “It’s excellent. You’ve outdone yourself. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” he said, leaning back in his chair and grinning at her. “I live for validation, you know.”

She shook her head, unable to suppress her laughter. “I don’t know how you’ve managed to stay so humble all these years.”

“It’s a struggle,” he admitted, smirking. “But I persevere. For you.”

Penelope’s cheeks warmed at his words, though she rolled her eyes to mask it. “Well, your perseverance paid off. Dinner’s wonderful.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence for a moment, the soft clink of utensils and the hum of jazz filling the air. Colin broke it with a teasing glint in his eye. “Do you remember that time I tried to make risotto? What did you call it? Rice paste?”

She laughed, nearly choking on her wine. “It was rice paste! You basically boiled it into submission.”

“I’ve grown since then,” he said, mock-solemn. “I’m a man of many talents now. Pasta, for example.”

“Yes, clearly a renaissance man,” she teased, her smile softening.

“And yet, my greatest talent,” he said, leaning forward slightly, “is making you laugh.”

Penelope’s smile froze for a moment, her heart skipping a beat at the sincerity in his voice. She recovered quickly, shaking her head with a playful huff. “Well, you’ve been doing a good job of it lately. Thank you.”

“I aim to please,” he said lightly, but the words hung in the air between them, weighted with unspoken meaning. Penelope looked away, focusing on her glass of wine, but she couldn’t suppress the warmth spreading through her chest.

Later that night, after Penelope had returned home, her phone buzzed again. This time, she glanced at the screen. It was a message from Eloise:

Found something. Call me.

Penelope’s pulse quickened. She immediately dialed, pacing her living room as the call connected.

“What is it?” she asked, skipping any preamble.

Eloise’s voice was sharp, efficient. “RaeAnne. I did some digging into her work history. Turns out, she worked at a firm tied to Radcliffe’s operations a few years ago. Here’s the kicker though: she used a slightly altered name on her resume. Nothing big, just enough to make her harder to trace.”

Penelope’s grip tightened on the phone. “So Daphne’s instincts were right. She’s hiding something.”  RaeAnne had been her ally, her confidant for so long. Learning that RaeAnne had ties - no matter how tenuous - to Radcliffe’s world sent a pang of regret through her. Still, she reminded herself, they needed to be sure. They couldn’t let personal loyalties blind them.

“It’s not proof,” Eloise cautioned, “but it’s suspicious as hell. And it gives us a lead. If RaeAnne’s connected to Radcliffe, we’re getting closer to blowing this wide open.”

Penelope nodded, even though Eloise couldn’t see her. “Good work. Keep digging. We’ll need more than a name discrepancy to confront her.”

“Already on it,” Eloise said, her voice brimming with determination.

After the call ended, Penelope lowered her phone, her thoughts churning in quiet chaos. Across the room, the lilies Alfred sent caught the faint light, a scent of something both delicate and unsettling lingering in the air. Eloise’s discovery, still incomplete, had sharpened her focus. She might not have all the answers, but now she saw a path forward - one where she refused to linger in the shadows of uncertainty.

She took a steadying breath and turned off the lights, letting the darkness settle around her. Only outlines remained: the flowers, her phone, the echo of hard truths and shifting alliances. They were all symbols of the choices pressing against her, demanding action.

Tomorrow, she would act. She wouldn’t hesitate or falter. The waiting ended here. Another sunrise would bring resolve, and with it, the courage to shape her future on her own terms.

Chapter Text

The sun broke through the frosted glass of the Danbury Offices conference room, casting sharp rays over the small group gathered inside. Penelope stood at the head of the table, tension etched into her features as she glanced at Eloise, whose usual wit had been replaced with a focused, serious expression. Colin sat nearby, his fingers drumming a rhythmic pattern on the table, while Anthony loomed silently at the far end, his arms crossed in thought.

Eloise cleared her throat, her voice measured. “I’ve finished digging into RaeAnne’s past, and I think we’ve been looking at the wrong person.” 

The room stilled.

“What did you find?” Penelope asked cautiously.

“She did change her name,” Eloise confirmed, tapping her laptop to bring up a series of documents. “But it wasn’t to cover anything criminal. She was running from an abusive ex-husband. There’s no connection to Radcliffe or any financial inconsistencies. Everything checks out.” 

Colin exhaled deeply, relief washing over him. “So, she’s innocent.”

“And we’re back to square one,” Anthony muttered, his frustration barely concealed.

Penelope chewed her lip, her mind racing. Relief at RaeAnne’s innocence mingled with the bitter disappointment of another dead end. “We need to reassess. If it’s not RaeAnne, who else has been close enough to sabotage us from within?”

There was a moment of quiet as they considered each name, turning possibilities over in their minds.

Anthony, arms folded, began pacing. “Fife? He’s shady in business - that’s undeniable. I’m still not convinced he’d risk going against Agatha so openly, however.”

Eloise leaned back in her chair, eyebrows raised. “I’ve worked closely with him on the merger’s finer points. Trust me, the man’s got ambitions, but nothing that screams this level of betrayal. He’s honestly petrified of Agatha.”

Penelope tapped her pen on the desk, frustration evident. “If not Fife, then who? Cressida’s sequestered in some “spa” in the Alps, and RaeAnne’s been cleared…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “Is there anyone else we haven’t considered? Someone we’ve trusted when we shouldn’t have?”

A tense silence stretched out, thick with uncertainty. Colin, who’d been listening intently, suddenly frowned as if recalling something half-forgotten. “Hold on,” he said quietly, leaning forward. “A few weeks back, Laura mentioned a lead she was certain we should follow. At the time, I shrugged it off as her being thorough, but looking back… I don’t know.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “That lead was a total dead end. It felt like a distraction, now that I think about it.”

They all turned to Colin, surprise and curiosity flickering across their faces. Penelope’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully, and Anthony stopped pacing, waiting for Colin to continue. Eloise tilted her head, her gaze sharpening.

“I’m not saying it’s her,” Colin clarified, “but we’ve been trusting Laura’s judgment completely. If someone wanted to slow us down or misdirect us, steering us toward a useless lead would be a pretty good tactic.”

Eloise’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve noticed discrepancies in her reports, too. And she’s the one who recommended the outside firm - she could’ve been using them to manipulate the investigation.”

Anthony nodded grimly. “She also tried steering us away from checking certain documents early on. Said it wasn’t worth the time.”

Penelope’s heart sank as the pieces began to align. “And she was vocal about keeping you out of the initial legal proceedings, Eloise. Almost like she wanted to maintain control without your oversight.”

The room buzzed with realization. Penelope met Colin’s gaze, her voice low but resolute. “If Laura’s our mole, we need proof - and fast.”

The weight of the realization hung heavily in the room as Penelope straightened her posture, her hands gripping the edge of the table. The sun’s sharp rays reflected in her blue eyes, but there was no warmth in her expression - only determination. The threads they’d been chasing for weeks were finally weaving into something tangible, and she was ready to act.

“We can’t confront her without solid evidence,” Penelope said firmly, breaking the charged silence. “If she really is the mole, she’s had weeks -  hell, months - to cover her tracks. One wrong move, and she’ll slip away before we can stop her.”

Eloise’s fingers flew over her keyboard, her focused expression sharper than ever. “I’ll dig through her emails and reports. There are gaps in her work history that I flagged earlier but didn’t prioritize. If she’s been manipulating us, there’s a digital trail somewhere.”

“I’ll reach out to our IT team,” Anthony added, his voice tight with controlled anger. “Penelope, if you can give permission, they can comb through access logs and see if she’s been tampering with files or leaking information externally.”

Penelope nodded, her thoughts racing ahead. “We also need to secure our most critical data - financial records, legal documents, anything related to the merger. She has access to all those things and can still pass them along.”

Colin leaned forward, his green eyes filled with resolve. “What about shadowing her movements? We could watch her interactions, see if she reaches out to anyone suspicious.”

“That’s risky,” Penelope countered, her gaze locking with his. “If she senses she’s being watched, she’ll go underground, and we’ll lose her completely.”

Eloise’s fingers paused on the keys. “What if we feed her false information? A controlled leak - something that looks authentic but is designed to confirm her involvement.”

Anthony arched his brow. “Bait her, you mean?”

“Exactly,” Eloise said. “If she takes the bait and it ends up with Radcliffe, we’ll have undeniable proof of her role. It has to be convincing enough to tempt her, though.”

Penelope hesitated, weighing the risks. It was a dangerous game, but Eloise had a point. If they wanted to stop Laura, they needed irrefutable evidence. “What kind of information are you thinking?” she asked.

Eloise smirked faintly, a flash of her usual confidence returning. “Leave that to me. I’ll craft something tied to a new financial opportunity - something lucrative enough to catch Radcliffe’s interest but with just enough inconsistencies to flag it as a setup.”

Anthony nodded his approval. “Good. In the meantime, I’ll tighten security protocols across both Danbury and BPC. No one moves files or signs contracts without authorization from me or Penelope clearing it first.” He turned to Penelope. “I’m sorry, I know that puts more on your plate to deal with.” 

She waved him off. “It’s fine. I’ll handle it.” 

Penelope glanced at Colin, who had remained uncharacteristically quiet. His jaw was tight, and she could see the worry etched into his face. “Hey, are you okay?” she asked softly.

He blinked, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as he met her gaze. “Yeah, I’m just…thinking about Laura. I trusted her. We all did. It makes me wonder how many other blind spots we’ve missed.”

The room fell into a determined silence as each person absorbed their tasks. The stakes had never been higher, and the realization that one of their own might be betraying them cut deeply. If Laura Thompson thought she could outmaneuver them, she was about to learn just how formidable the Featherington-Bridgerton alliance could be.

“Let’s get her,” Penelope said, her voice ringing with authority. “I’m done with this game.” 

Hours later, Laura Thompson sat across from the group in another conference room, her confident demeanor slipping ever so slightly as Eloise slid a thick folder across the table. The room was bathed in sterile light, the tension almost tangible. Penelope sat with her hands clasped tightly, her nails digging into her palms as she braced for what was to come.

“We’ve uncovered some troubling information,” Eloise began smoothly, her voice steady and professional, though her sharp gaze didn’t waver. She tapped the folder with a manicured finger, its weight an unspoken threat. “Evidence that ties you directly to Radcliffe’s sabotage attempts.”

Laura’s eyes flicked to the folder, her hands resting stiffly on the table. She didn’t reach for it. Instead, she forced a tight smile. “Troubling how?” she asked, her voice a touch too controlled, the faintest tremor betraying her nerves.

Eloise’s expression remained impassive as she opened the folder, sliding out several documents. “Bank transfers originating from a personal account linked to a device you use. Emails from a private address—also yours—communicating directly with Radcliffe. Shall I go on?”

Laura’s composure faltered. The corners of her mouth twitched, her confidence bleeding away as the group watched her unravel. “This is ridiculous,” she began, her voice rising defensively. “You’re grasping at straws.”

“It’s over, Laura,” Anthony interjected, his tone cutting through the room like a blade. His arms were crossed, and his face was carved with fury. “The outside firm corroborated everything. They’re no longer reporting to you—or under your influence.”

A heavy silence descended. Laura’s mask of defiance cracked, her shoulders slumping as her eyes darted toward the door, searching for escape. Her lips parted, and her voice emerged as a broken whisper: “I didn’t have a choice.”

Penelope flinched at the desperation in Laura’s voice. She leaned forward, her eyes locking with Laura’s. “What do you mean you didn’t have a choice?” she asked quietly, the anger in her tone tempered by confusion.

Laura exhaled shakily, her last defenses crumbling. “Radcliffe has…information. On me. Something I can’t let get out.” Tears pooled in her eyes, the confession ripping free of whatever hold she’d kept on her emotions. “He threatened to ruin my life. My family—he said he’d drag them through the mud if I didn’t help him derail the merger. I never wanted to hurt anyone.” She swallowed hard, voice trembling. “He left me no way out.”

Penelope’s stomach churned. So it was blackmail, not greed or ambition. But the damage was done. “You still chose to follow his orders,” she said, voice tight. “You still betrayed us.”

Laura’s tears spilled over, streaking her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she choked out, each word soaked in regret. “I didn’t see another option.”

Anthony’s jaw tightened, fury simmering beneath his calm exterior. Eloise, standing tall, signaled toward the door. Two uniformed security officers entered silently, their presence both a relief and a grim reminder of what it had come to.

“It’s out of our hands now,” Penelope said, her voice steady despite the ache in her chest. “You betrayed this company and everyone in it. Whatever Radcliffe threatened, you still crossed a line.”

The officers approached Laura, their motions efficient but firm. Laura rose shakily, her sobs quiet but persistent as they escorted her out. The sound of her footsteps and muffled crying faded down the hall until the conference room was enveloped in silence once more.

Penelope exhaled slowly, her hands unclenching. The air in the room felt lighter, as if the storm hovering over them had finally broken. But there was sadness too, for the human cost this battle had exacted.

Anthony leaned back in his chair, gaze sweeping over them. “She’s gone, but Radcliffe won’t stop just because we cut off his inside contact. The sooner we can get this merger done, the better for all of us.”

Eloise closed the folder with a snap, her lips pressing into a thin line. “We’re not out of the woods yet, but this is a start.”

Colin reached over and brushed her hand lightly - a silent show of support. Penelope met his gaze, seeing the same resolve in his eyes. It gave her the strength she needed for whatever lay ahead.

For the first time in months, the suffocating tension seemed to ease, replaced by a cautious optimism. The betrayal had been exposed, the saboteur stopped, and though Radcliffe remained a threat, they were no longer fighting blind.

As Penelope left the room, Colin by her side, she carried with her the understanding that they were more than a fractured team - they were an alliance forged through fire. 

Penelope spotted RaeAnne at her desk just outside her office, surrounded by neatly stacked papers and color-coded files. RaeAnne worked with her usual efficiency, her focus unwavering as she jotted something down in a notebook. 

Clearing her throat, Penelope stepped closer. “RaeAnne, can I talk to you for a moment? In my office?”

RaeAnne looked up, her expression neutral, though her brow furrowed slightly. “Of course,” she said, standing and following Penelope into the office. Once the door clicked shut behind them, Penelope gestured to one of the chairs in front of her desk.

“Please, have a seat,” Penelope said, settling into her own chair. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she needed to say. “I owe you an explanation, Rae, and it’s long overdue.”

RaeAnne sat cautiously, her hands folded in her lap. “Okay.”

Penelope leaned forward, her hands clasped together on the desk. “Over the past few weeks, the company has been dealing with…sabotage. Someone inside Danbury has been working with Radcliffe to undermine the merger and create chaos for the company.”

RaeAnne’s eyes widened. “Sabotage? Someone here?”

Penelope nodded. “Yes. We’ve been conducting an investigation to figure out who’s behind it. The stakes were incredibly high, and we couldn’t risk tipping anyone off before we had solid evidence.”

RaeAnne’s expression shifted, confusion and hurt mingling on her face. “Why are you telling me this now?”

Penelope hesitated, guilt twisting in her chest. “Because, during the investigation, your name came up. And we…we thought it might be you.”

RaeAnne blinked, the words hitting her like a physical blow. “You thought I was involved?” she asked softly, her voice tinged with disbelief.

“We thought there was a chance,” Penelope admitted, her voice thick with regret. “There were certain details - the timing of your arrival, gaps in communication - that made me question things. We did some more digging, and we uncovered the truth; we know you weren’t involved. You’ve been carrying your own burdens, and I can’t imagine how hard that’s been for you.”

RaeAnne sat back in her chair, her expression unreadable as she processed Penelope’s words. “So…all this time, you’ve been investigating me?” Her voice was quiet but laced with an edge of pain.

Penelope shook her head quickly. “No, not just you. The investigation was broad, and we looked into everyone. But yes, for a time, I allowed myself to suspect you. And for that, I am so, so sorry. I can’t tell you how much I regret letting my fear and stress cloud my judgment.”

RaeAnne’s lips parted, as if she wanted to say something, but she hesitated. Finally, she let out a soft sigh. “I knew something was different, but I had no idea. I wasn’t sure what I had done to change our relationship.”

Penelope leaned forward, her voice earnest. “You’ve been nothing but loyal, Rae. You’ve been one of the most dependable people on this team, and I am sorry that I questioned that. I hope you can forgive me for letting my doubts get in the way.”

RaeAnne’s gaze softened, and the tension in her shoulders eased. “Thank you for saying that,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “It hurt, but…I understand. You’ve had a lot on your plate, and I understand why you had to do what you did. I appreciate your apology though. It means a lot.”

Penelope’s throat tightened with emotion, but she managed a faint smile. “I want to rebuild the trust we had, Rae. You’ve always been one of the best parts of this team, and I don’t want to lose that.”

RaeAnne returned the smile, tentative but genuine. “We’ll get there,” she said softly. 

“I’ll hold you to that.” Penelope stood and walked RaeAnne to the door, pausing before she opened it. “If you ever need anything - if something’s weighing on you or if you just need to talk - I’m here. Always.”

RaeAnne nodded, her smile growing warmer. “Thanks, Penelope. That really means a lot.”

As RaeAnne returned to her desk, Penelope felt a sense of relief wash over her. The weight of suspicion and uncertainty that had hung between them was finally lifted. With this conversation behind her, Penelope could shift her focus back to what mattered most - the merger, Agatha’s care, and the future of the Danbury-Bridgerton merger.

That evening, Penelope found herself at Colin’s flat, exhaustion and relief mingling after a whirlwind of a day. Colin opened the door before she could knock, his warm smile a balm against the lingering tension in her chest.

“Hey,” he said, stepping aside to let her in. “You look like you could use a drink and a nap, in that order.”

“I could,” she admitted, slipping off her coat and hanging it by the door. “I talked to Rae. Cleared the air.”

Colin nodded, his expression softening. “Good. I know that was weighing on you.”

“It was,” Penelope said, sinking onto the couch. “But it’s done now.”

He joined her a moment later, handing her a glass of wine he’d already poured. She took it gratefully, the weight of the day finally beginning to lift. They sat in companionable silence for a while, the hum of the city outside a quiet backdrop.

“Anything else on your mind?” Colin asked after a moment, his tone light but curious.

Penelope shook her head, leaning back against the cushions. “Not tonight. For the first time in weeks, my brain feels…quiet.”

Colin’s lips quirked into a small smile. “That’s a good sign. Want to put it to good use? I was thinking we could watch a movie. Veg out, no stress.”

Penelope tilted her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “That actually sounds perfect.”

“Great,” he said, grabbing the remote. “You pick the movie. I’ll make the popcorn.”

As Colin disappeared into the kitchen, Penelope scrolled idly through the streaming options, her body finally beginning to relax. By the time he returned with a bowl of popcorn, she’d settled on an old comedy she knew by heart. They curled up together on the couch, the warmth of his arm draped casually over her shoulders grounding her in a way she hadn’t realized she needed.

Halfway through the movie, her eyelids grew heavy, and before she knew it, she’d drifted off, her head resting against Colin’s chest. He glanced down, his smile softening as he shifted slightly to make her more comfortable, careful not to wake her.

The apartment fell into a peaceful stillness, the movie still playing in the background. On the coffee table, Penelope’s phone buzzed softly, its screen lighting up the dim room. Colin’s gaze flicked to it absently, but the name on the screen made him freeze.

Alfie – Text Message

His smile faded, replaced by a flicker of unease. For a long moment, he stared at the screen, a knot forming in his stomach. Whatever the message was, it could wait - but the name itself felt like a storm cloud creeping into their hard-won moment of calm.

The movie played on, but Colin’s thoughts were elsewhere as the chapter closed on an unsettling note, the unanswered question of Alfie hanging in the air like a silent challenge.

Chapter Text

The first thing Penelope noticed was the warmth. It cocooned her, soft and reassuring, the kind of warmth that made her reluctant to open her eyes. The sheets were smooth against her skin, faintly scented with cedar and something subtly fresh - Colin.

The second thing she noticed was how unfamiliar the bed felt. Her eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, she blinked at the gray walls, the soft morning light filtering through partially drawn curtains. This wasn’t her room. Disoriented, she pushed herself up slightly, the duvet slipping from her shoulders.

And then it clicked: Colin’s flat.

Bits of the previous evening came back to her. They’d been watching While You Were Sleeping - her pick - and the combination of the movie’s familiar comfort and the exhaustion that had been building all week had lulled her into sleep. She rubbed at her temple, trying to remember more. Hadn’t she fallen asleep on the couch?

Her cheeks warmed as her gaze darted around the room, taking in its tidy simplicity. The navy duvet was slightly rumpled, and a glass of water sat on the nightstand beside a neatly coiled phone charger. The bookshelves against the far wall, overflowing with titles ranging from classic literature to travel memoirs, confirmed she was still in Colin’s domain.

He must have carried her to bed.

The thought made her chest tighten, a mix of gratitude and something she didn’t dare name fluttering low in her stomach. 

She sat up slowly, pushing the duvet aside. Her dress from the previous evening was slightly rumpled, but otherwise intact. She caught sight of her shoes neatly placed beside the bed, and a small laugh bubbled up despite her lingering confusion. Colin. Of course, he would think to place her shoes perfectly by the bedside, as though she were a guest in a fancy hotel rather than a friend who had passed out watching a movie.

She stood slowly, her muscles stiff from a deep sleep, and stretched her arms above her head. The blanket had been tucked around her so snugly that it made her wonder how long he’d spent making sure she was comfortable before retreating to the couch.

The door was slightly ajar, and through the gap, she caught the faint sound of movement—pans clinking against the stovetop, the hum of soft music, and the unmistakable aroma of coffee wafting through the air.

Penelope inhaled deeply, letting the comforting scent pull her forward. As she stepped into the hallway, she noticed the couch. The blanket and pillow neatly folded at one end confirmed her suspicion. Colin had slept there.

Her heart twisted slightly. She couldn’t help but feel the unspoken care in every detail. The warmth of the bed, the tidy little pile of her belongings, the way he’d given up his own comfort without a second thought.

She stopped just outside the kitchen, leaning slightly against the wall as she watched him. Colin was at the stove, his back to her, dressed in sweatpants and a plain white T-shirt that stretched just enough across his shoulders to be distracting. His hair was adorably rumpled, as though he hadn’t bothered to tame it after rolling off the couch.

He was humming softly under his breath - a tune she couldn’t place but found herself smiling at anyway. A spatula in one hand, a pan of scrambled eggs in the other, he moved with a casual ease that made the scene feel like something out of a dream.

Penelope took a steadying breath and stepped forward. “Good morning,” she said softly, her voice still rough with sleep.

Colin turned, and the instant his eyes met hers, his face broke into a grin that could have rivaled the morning sun. “Morning, Sleeping Beauty. I was starting to think you’d sleep through the whole day.”

She laughed lightly, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep… or commandeer your bed.”

He waved her off, turning back to the stove. “Please. You were snoring by the time Sandra Bullock was halfway through her fake coma romance. Leaving you on the couch felt criminal.” He glanced back at her over his shoulder, a teasing glint in his eye. “Besides, I figured you’d appreciate the upgrade. My couch isn’t exactly five-star accommodation.”

Her cheeks warmed. “Thank you. For everything.” 

Penelope crossed to the counter, drawn by the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee. Colin handed her a mug, their fingers brushing briefly in the exchange. The slight contact sent an unexpected shiver up her spine, but she masked it with a small smile.

“This smells amazing,” she said, taking a careful sip.

“Wait until you try the eggs,” he said, turning off the stove and gesturing toward the table. “It’s not exactly gourmet, but it’s edible. Probably.”

She laughed as she slid into one of the chairs, her body still heavy with the kind of contented relaxation she rarely allowed herself. Colin brought over two plates, setting one in front of her with a flourish before sitting across the table.

“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” she said, her tone soft.

“It’s not trouble,” he replied easily. “Besides, I owed you for making me sit through While You Were Sleeping.”

She gave him a mock glare. “You loved it, don’t lie.”

“Let’s call it… tolerable,” he teased, his grin widening as he picked up his fork.

Penelope shook her head, rolling her eyes fondly as she took a bite of the eggs. They were perfectly fluffy, and the warm comfort of the meal wrapped around her like a hug.

As they ate, the conversation flowed effortlessly, interspersed with moments of companionable silence. Colin’s hand found hers again at some point, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles as they talked about nothing and everything.

This - sharing coffee and laughter with Colin in the soft stillness of a new day - felt like something she hadn’t realized she’d been missing.

It felt like a dream. 

Penelope’s gaze flicked to Colin across the table. He was mid-sentence, gesturing animatedly as he tried to convince her that Die Hard was, in fact, a Christmas movie. She let her eyes linger on him - on the way the sunlight caught the blue in his eyes, the way his hair stuck up stubbornly in places, the way his lips curved into a soft smile when he caught her watching.

This wasn’t a dream.

Dreams were fragile and fleeting, things that dissolved into the cold reality of waking life. But this - this was real.

This was Colin, sitting across from her with crumbs on his shirt and a cup of coffee growing cold beside him, teasing her in that way only he could. This was him squeezing her hand when her thoughts drifted too far, grounding her with his steady presence. This was the reality she hadn’t dared to hope for.

And it was better than anything she could have imagined.

Her heart swelled with the knowledge that he felt the same, even if they hadn’t said the words yet. She could see it in the way he looked at her, in the quiet patience of his actions, in the way he stayed when it mattered most.

For the first time in years, Penelope let herself believe that this was something she could hold on to. That this was hers.

He pulled her out of her reflection by squeezing her hand. 

“So,” he said, his voice softer now, “do you have any plans for today? Would you like to join me for a trip to the aquarium, maybe?”

Penelope smiled, nodding. “That sounds nice.”

Before they could plan further, her phone buzzed on the table. Colin glanced at the screen, and she caught the subtle shift in his expression as he read the name: Alfred.

The lightness in the room dimmed slightly, tension creeping in at the edges. Penelope picked up the phone, her jaw tightening as she silenced the notification.

“Alfred?” Colin asked, his tone casual but carefully measured.

“Yes,” she said quickly, setting the phone face down. “I’ll deal with it later.”

Colin nodded, his expression unreadable, but Penelope could feel the change. The easy comfort they’d been basking in had dimmed, replaced by an unspoken weight neither of them wanted to name.

By the time they reached the London Aquarium, the earlier tension had melted away, replaced by the quiet ease Penelope was beginning to recognize as uniquely theirs. The bright lights of the exhibits reflected off the glass tanks, casting rippling patterns on the walls, and Colin’s enthusiasm was infectious.

“Did you know octopuses have three hearts?” Colin asked, pressing his hands against the glass of a brightly lit tank filled with coral and darting fish. His voice was hushed with wonder, his blue eyes alive with curiosity.

“Of course I know that,” Penelope replied, her lips curving into a teasing smile. She nudged his shoulder lightly. “Everyone knows that.”

Colin turned to her, clutching his chest in mock offense. “Well, aren’t you a marine biologist in disguise? What else do you know? Come on, impress me.”

“Hmm…” She tapped her chin thoughtfully, playing along. “Did you know that seahorses mate for life?”

“Show-off,” he muttered, but his grin betrayed him. “Fine, I’ll give you that one. But did you know stingrays have the cutest little faces in the ocean?”

“That is not a scientific fact,” she said, laughing.

“It’s the truth,” he insisted, dragging her toward the stingray exhibit.

They spent hours exploring, moving from one tank to the next, pausing to read plaques and laugh over the odd expressions of various creatures. Colin’s childlike enthusiasm brought an unexpected lightness to the day. He leaned so close to one tank that a passing schoolchild whispered, “He’s more excited than we are,” which only made Penelope laugh harder.

Soon they reached the softly lit tunnel where the glass walls and ceiling gave the illusion of walking underwater. Sharks and rays glided gracefully above them, the low hum of the aquarium amplifying the sense of wonder in the air.

Penelope slowed her steps, her gaze fixed on the shifting light patterns on the floor. She felt Colin’s arm brush against hers as he came to a stop beside her.

“This place is incredible,” she murmured, her voice echoing faintly in the tunnel. 

“It’s one of my favorite exhibits. Something about the way you’re surrounded by these creatures…it’s soothing rather than scary.”

She nodded, unable to speak around the lump in her throat. She was finding that being with Colin lately felt much the same way.

At one point, Penelope excused herself to step aside and call Agatha’s nurse. She ducked into a quiet corner, her fingers tightening around her phone as she dialed.

“No change,” the nurse said kindly. “She’s stable but resting.”

Penelope thanked her, the familiar ache of worry settling in her chest. As much as she tried to steel herself, the uncertainty surrounding Agatha’s health was a constant weight.

When she returned to the main exhibit hall, she spotted Colin waiting for her by the shark tank, his hands tucked into his pockets. His expression softened the moment he saw her.

“Everything okay?” he asked gently.

She nodded, though her voice was quieter. “No change.”

Colin didn’t press further. Instead, he reached out, his hand resting lightly on her back as they moved to the next exhibit. The touch was grounding, warm, and steady. Penelope allowed herself to lean into it, drawing strength from his quiet presence.

The final exhibit led them to the jellyfish exhibit, and Penelope stopped in her tracks. The tank stretched floor-to-ceiling, filled with glowing, ethereal creatures that floated like living clouds. Colin stood beside her, his voice softening as he whispered, “They’re like something out of a dream.”

She glanced at him, her gaze lingering. “They really are.”

He turned toward her, his look both soft and heated. 

“You’ve got that look again,” she said, her voice teasing but quieter than usual.

“What look?” he asked, his tone low, his lips curving into a small smile.

“The one that says you’re about to say something ridiculously sappy and sentimental.”

Colin chuckled, but his gaze didn’t waver. “Maybe I was,” he admitted. “I can’t seem to help myself when I’m with you.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away, trying to hide the shy smile that tugged at her lips. 

Colin stepped closer, his fingers brushing lightly against hers. The touch was hesitant, like he was testing the boundaries of whatever fragile thing was growing between them. Penelope didn’t pull away.

For a moment, they simply stood there, the world around them quiet except for the rhythmic swish of water and the graceful movements of the creatures above. Colin tilted his head, his gaze steady.

“Pen,” he said softly, his voice barely audible over the hum of the aquarium.

“Yes?” she asked, her throat suddenly dry.

“Nothing,” he murmured, his smile widening as he shook his head slightly. “I just like saying your name.”

She rolled her eyes, but her heart swelled. The air between them hummed with unspoken possibilities, and for the first time, Penelope allowed herself to believe that whatever was happening between them wasn’t fleeting or fragile.

It was real.

The evening air was cool as they walked back to Penelope’s flat, the city alive with the soft hum of distant traffic and the occasional burst of laughter from passersby. The glow of streetlights reflected off the damp pavement, casting a warm, golden hue over the quiet moment they shared.

They strolled side by side, their steps unhurried, as though neither wanted the day to end.

“I had a good time today,” Penelope said, breaking the comfortable silence as they neared her building.

“Just good?” Colin teased, turning his head to flash her a grin that was both boyish and impossibly charming.

Penelope rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her smile gave her away. “Fine. It was great. Better than great, actually.”

Colin chuckled softly, his gaze lingering on her for a beat too long before he turned back to the path ahead. “I’ll take it,” he said lightly, but there was a softness in his tone that made her heart flutter.

When they reached the steps of her flat, they stopped in unspoken agreement, neither making a move to part just yet. The gentle hum of the city seemed to quiet around them, as though the world itself was holding its breath.

Penelope turned to face him, tucking a stray curl behind her ear as she searched for something to say. “Thanks for today. It was… nice to just - ”

“Be,” Colin finished for her, his voice low but steady. He smiled, the kind of smile that reached his eyes, and stepped a little closer. “Yeah. It was.”

The space between them seemed to shrink, the air charged with something unsaid. Penelope’s heart raced as Colin studied her, his gaze tracing the curve of her jaw, the softness of her mouth, as though committing every detail to memory.

“You have something on your mind,” she said, her voice soft but teasing, a nervous edge creeping in as her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag.

Colin hesitated, his lips curving into a small, self-deprecating smile. “I do,” he admitted. “I don’t want to rush this, but I - ” He broke off, running a hand through his hair as though trying to find the right words.

Penelope tilted her head, her gaze steady despite the way her pulse thrummed in her ears. “Colin,” she said gently, her voice barely above a whisper, “just say it.”

He let out a breath, his hand dropping to his side as he looked at her with an intensity that made her chest tighten. “I’ve wanted to kiss you all day,” he confessed, his voice low and raw. “But I didn’t know if… if you’d want me to.”

Penelope’s breath hitched, her lips parting in surprise. The vulnerability in his tone, the quiet hesitation in his eyes, sent a wave of warmth through her. “You didn’t know?” she echoed, a hint of incredulity in her voice.

Colin shrugged, his smile turning sheepish. “I didn’t want to assume.”

For a moment, neither of them moved, the tension between them thick enough to cut. Then, slowly, Penelope stepped closer, her gaze locked on his. “I do,” she said simply, her voice steady despite the butterflies swarming in her stomach.

Colin’s eyes searched hers for a beat longer, as though waiting for confirmation. When she didn’t pull away, didn’t look away, he reached for her, his hand cupping her cheek with a gentleness that made her throat tighten.

His thumb brushed against her skin, and Penelope’s eyes fluttered closed at the warmth of his touch. When his lips finally met hers, it was soft at first - tentative, almost shy, as though he was savoring the moment before it slipped away.

They deepened the kiss. Colin’s hand moved to the nape of her neck, his fingers threading through her curls as he pulled her closer. Penelope’s hands found his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his coat as she leaned into him, her heart pounding in time with his.

The world around them seemed to dissolve, leaving only the warmth of his mouth on hers, the steady strength of his arms as they wrapped around her. It wasn’t just a kiss - it was a connection, a release of everything they hadn’t said but had felt growing between them.

When they finally broke apart, their foreheads pressed together, Penelope’s breath came in soft, uneven gasps. She opened her eyes, finding Colin’s gaze already on her, his expression a mix of awe and something deeper - something that made her knees weak.

“Wow,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Penelope smiled, her fingers still clutching the lapels of his coat. “Yeah,” she said softly, her cheeks flushing as she realized how tightly she was holding onto him. She let her hands drop, but Colin didn’t move away.

“I’ve wanted to do that for longer than I’d care to admit,” he said, his voice tinged with both relief and quiet vulnerability.

“Then why didn’t you?” Penelope asked, her tone light but curious.

Colin’s lips curved into a small, wry smile. “Afraid of overstepping,” he admitted. “We’re still figuring things out and kissing you probably adds a layer of complication you may not want or need.” 

Penelope’s heart ached at the honesty in his words, and she reached up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. “True,” she said softly. “I’m okay with it though. More okay about it than I thought I would be.”

He took a deep breath, his hand still resting at her waist. “You thought about it?”

She let out a wry chuckle. “For awhile there, every day from the ages of 18 to 20.”

Colin couldn’t help the wince that crossed his face. “Pen, I - ”

She reached up and put a finger to his lips. “I know you’re sorry. You’ve proven it over and over again the last few months.”

For a moment, they simply stood there, the quiet hum of the city wrapping around them like a cocoon. Colin leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers, letting their breath mingle. He moved his lips to kiss her forehead and then her mouth before pulling back just enough to look at her again.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked, his voice filled with a kind of hopeful certainty that made Penelope’s chest tighten.

“You will,” she replied, her smile widening.

Colin took a reluctant step back, his hand trailing down her arm before finally letting go. “Goodnight, Pen.”

“Goodnight, Colin.”

She watched him walk away, her heart full in a way she hadn’t felt in years. As she turned to unlock her door, she found herself smiling, the warmth of his kiss still lingering on her lips.

The quiet hum of machines blended with the soft rustle of fabric as the nurse adjusted Agatha’s blanket, her movements careful and deliberate. Penelope sat by the window, bathed in the muted glow of the afternoon, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She’d spent hours in this chair, watching over the woman who had been her anchor for as long as she could remember.

Agatha’s breathing was steady, but her frailty seemed more pronounced today, her once indomitable presence reduced to something fragile and faint. Penelope swallowed the ache in her throat, struggling to reconcile the Agatha of now with the sharp, vibrant woman who had taught her how to navigate a world determined to underestimate her.

But even here, in the weight of grief and inevitability, her thoughts drifted elsewhere. To the night before.

The kiss.

It was soft at first, like the brush of a whispered promise, but it carried a quiet intensity that lingered long after their lips had parted. It wasn’t just the kiss, though - it was the way Colin had looked at her, as though she were the only thing in the world. As though he’d been waiting for that moment as long as she had, maybe longer.

She meant it when she had told him he had proven how sorry he was for hurting her. 

He’d changed.

The realization settled over her, as quiet as a snowfall but just as certain. He wasn’t the Colin who had broken her heart all those years ago. He wasn’t the boy who had dismissed her love so thoughtlessly, leaving her to carry the weight of that pain alone.

This Colin had grown into someone entirely different. Someone steady, thoughtful. He didn’t just listen now - he heard her. He didn’t just make promises; he kept them, quietly and without fanfare.

The boy who had hurt her had been careless, fleeting, always chasing the next adventure. This man carried himself differently, with intention and quiet resolve. And as much as she had tried to tell herself otherwise, she trusted him.

That trust had come slowly, painstakingly rebuilt piece by piece over months of small actions, of steady presence. It had come in moments like the night Agatha told her she was stopping treatment, when Penelope thought she might shatter under the weight of her grief.

Colin had been there. Not just there in the sense of occupying space, but there in the way that mattered. He hadn’t tried to fix her or distract her with empty words. He’d stayed. He’d held her hand when the silence was too heavy, and he’d let go when she needed air to breathe.

He hadn’t left.

In those moments, something inside her had shifted. At first, she resisted it, too afraid to name the feeling that stirred to life again. It had taken her years to bury her love for him, to accept that the girl who had pined for Colin Bridgerton had been naive and foolish. She’d believed that love to be a one-sided mistake, a cruel twist of fate she was better off leaving behind.

However, the truth was undeniable now.

She wasn’t falling for the Colin she had loved all those years ago - the charming boy who had smiled too easily and thought too little of the consequences of his actions. She was falling for the man he had become.

The man who had stood by her when no one else knew what to say. The man who made her laugh at the worst moments, who knew when to let the silence stretch and when to fill it with warmth. The man who challenged her, supported her, and made her feel, for the first time in years, as though she were enough.

Her fingers tightened in her lap, the realization blooming within her with a quiet, almost painful clarity.

She trusted him again.

It wasn’t a fragile thing, that trust. It wasn’t tentative or uncertain. It was steady and solid, built on the foundation of everything they’d shared - the heartbreak, the silence, and the slow, careful work of repairing what had been broken.

A soft groan from the bed pulled her from her thoughts. Penelope rose immediately, smoothing a hand over Agatha’s arm.

“Dear,” Agatha murmured, her voice rasping but still familiar. Her eyes fluttered open, dimmed but still holding that knowing spark.

“I’m here,” Penelope said softly, leaning closer. “Everything’s okay. Just rest.”

Agatha gave her a small, wry smile, the kind that reminded Penelope of the strength beneath her frailty. Her eyes drifted shut again, her breathing evening out.

Penelope sat back down, her hand resting lightly over Agatha’s. The ache of uncertainty lingered in her chest, but it was no longer all-consuming.

She let herself admit it fully then, in the stillness of the moment.

This wasn’t fragile. It wasn’t a rekindling of old, broken feelings. This was something entirely new.

It was terrifying, yes, but it was also exhilarating. For the first time, the possibility of love with Colin didn’t feel like a risk or a mistake. It felt real.

Penelope didn’t see Colin that day after all. Agatha’s health, errands, and the quiet pull of her own emotions kept her rooted at home. When the evening deepened into night, her phone buzzed with his name, and she answered without hesitation.

“Hey, you,” Colin said, his voice warm and familiar, carrying the faint crackle of static.

“Hey,” she replied, settling into the corner of her couch with a blanket pulled over her lap. “Sorry I didn’t call earlier. It’s been a long day.”

“No need to apologize,” he said. “How’s Agatha?”

“Stable,” Penelope said, her voice softening. “No change.”

A quiet pause stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Colin had a way of filling silence without words, of making her feel like she wasn’t alone, even through the phone.

“I missed you today,” he admitted, his voice low but steady.

Penelope’s heart skipped, and she tightened her grip on the phone. “I missed you too,” she said softly, the admission slipping out before she could second-guess it.

Colin let out a quiet laugh, warm and full of relief. “That’s good to hear. I thought I might have scared you off last night.”

“You didn’t,” she assured him, her lips curving into a small smile. “I just… needed some time to think.”

“About?” he prompted gently, his tone curious but careful.

She hesitated, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the edge of her blanket. “About us. About everything.”

Colin didn’t push. He waited, his patience steadying her in a way she hadn’t expected.

“Last night meant a lot to me,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “You… you mean a lot to me, Colin.”

“Pen,” he said, her name a quiet exhale, full of something she couldn’t quite name. “You mean a lot to me too. More than I think I even know how to say.”

The weight of his words settled over her, and for the first time, she let herself feel it fully - their connection, the trust they were rebuilding, the possibility of what they could become.

“Thank you,” she said softly, her voice trembling slightly. “For being patient. For… everything.”

“Always,” he replied, his tone resolute. “I know I keep saying this, but I’m going to keep repeating it until I’m sure you have no doubts. I’m not going anywhere, Pen. Not this time.”

They talked for hours after that, their voices weaving through the quiet night as they shared stories, teased each other, and filled the spaces between with laughter. By the time they said goodnight, Penelope felt lighter, the heaviness of the day eased by the steady reassurance of Colin’s presence.

She couldn’t be completely certain where things with Colin were headed, but right now, she was happy to go along for the ride.