Chapter Text
“Lady Bridgerton, I need to speak to you and Lord Bridgerton most urgently,” Penelope Featherington’s voice trembled with urgency as she stood on the doorstep, clutching Violet Bridgerton’s arm. Her eyes darted nervously around the hallway, as if she feared being overheard. “It’s about Colin.”
Lady Bridgerton frowned, immediately sensing the gravity of the situation. Without hesitation, she stepped aside and ushered Penelope into the house. Violet had been preparing to retire for the evening when her butler, Humboldt, announced the unexpected late-night visitor. Tightening her robe around her, she led the agitated young woman toward the study, where her eldest son Anthony, the 9th Viscount Bridgerton, was still awake.
“Miss Featherington?” Anthony rose from his chair, his brow furrowing in surprise as his younger sister’s best friend entered. “What’s wrong?” he asked, noticing how pale and tense Penelope appeared.
Violet guided Penelope to the settee and sat beside her, clasping the younger woman’s hand in a gesture of reassurance. “Take your time, my dear,” she said gently, her voice laced with compassion.
Penelope swallowed hard, her heart pounding. She had been so certain of her decision to confide in the Bridgertons about Marina’s scheme, but now, seated in Anthony’s imposing study, she hesitated. What if they didn’t believe her? What if they, too, dismissed her as a lovesick girl trying to sabotage her cousin’s chances with Colin? Marina’s smug words echoed in her mind: “Colin will be a good husband to me and a good father for my baby.”
Her baby. Marina’s baby, conceived long before she had met Colin. The baby Marina intended to pass off as Colin’s in a desperate bid to secure her future. Colin - nice, gentle, loving Colin - who did not deserve to be trapped into a loveless marriage. Colin, with his hero complex and his tendency to play the savior for damsels in distress. Colin, whom Penelope had been desperately in love with from the moment she met him.
Right. Penelope’s resolve hardened and she began to recount the entire sordid tale. She explained how Marina had come to live with the Featheringtons as a favor to her father, whom Penelope’s father owed money. How after several weeks Portia Featherington had discovered that Marina had not bled since her arrival. How Marina had confessed to her about being in love with George, their neighbor’s eldest son - George, who had promised to marry her but had gone to war and stopped replying to her letters.
How in desperation, her mother sought to marry Marina off quickly to avoid scandal. How Portia had tried to secure her match with an elderly lord, but Marina had turned her attention to Colin Bridgerton, Anthony’s younger brother, who had been captivated by the beautiful girl’s charms.
Now, Marina had convinced Colin to elope with her to Gretna Green, urging him to leave that very morning.
When Penelope finally fell silent, her chest heaving with the effort of relaying the truth, she risked a glance at Anthony. He sat behind his desk, his jaw clenched tightly, his fingers gripping a glass of whiskey so hard she feared it might shatter.
“Are you certain of this, Penelope?” Violet’s voice broke the tense silence, soft yet probing.
Penelope nodded. “Unfortunately, yes. I didn’t know what else to do. I tried to warn Colin, to tell him that Marina was in love with someone else, but he wouldn’t believe me. I begged Marina to choose someone else, anyone else… to not trap Colin in a loveless marriage. But she refused,” Penelope’s voice faltered, her hands twisting nervously in her skirts.
Anthony’s sharp eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her curious choice of words. Anyone else? he thought. Penelope wasn’t worried about Marina trapping just any unsuspecting gentleman - she was concerned specifically about Colin. His suspicions stirred.
Benedict had once teased that Colin needed to open his eyes to what was right in front of him. Perhaps Benedict had been right all along - the chit clearly had a fancy on Colin. Penelope was a sweet girl, intelligent and kind; his younger brother was such an idiot. He shook his head and sighed, reaching for the bell.
“We’ll wake Colin and talk to him immediately,” he said briskly. He poured a measure of whiskey into two glasses, handing one to his mother and the other to Penelope. Lady Bridgerton declined, but Penelope accepted with trembling hands.
To his surprise, she tossed the drink back in one smooth motion, betraying no discomfort. Anthony raised an eyebrow in mild astonishment. “My father lets me have a glass sometimes,” Penelope murmured, “when I help him with the household ledgers.” Her tone was quiet, but her words made Anthony’s brows rise even higher.
Before he could respond, the door opened, and Samuel, Colin’s manservant, entered. “My lord,” he began, bowing slightly. “Mr. Colin is not in his room. He left earlier this evening with a travel bag packed.”
Violet gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “We’re too late,” she whispered, her voice filled with dismay.
Penelope sat frozen, her heart sinking. All her courage, her daring decision to reveal Marina’s secret, had been for nothing. “When did he leave?” she managed to ask.
“About an hour ago,” Samuel replied. “He said he’d be back in a few days and asked me to keep his departure quiet until then.”
An hour ago. Penelope’s mind raced. Perhaps there was still time to intercept him. If she could reach Colin before he crossed the border, she might yet save him from making the worst mistake of his life.
She became acutely aware of Anthony watching her, his expression curious. Schooling her face into a mask of calm, she rose to her feet. “I, umm, should return home,” she said quickly, curtsying to Violet and Anthony. “There’s nothing more to be done now.”
Without waiting for a reply, she turned and hurried toward the door, her resolve hardening with each step.
She could not, would not, let Colin ruin his life. Not if there was any chance of stopping him.