Chapter Text
Penelope, he had learned in the weeks since they had married, was quite a funny character.
She flirted with him shamelessly in private, but was much less overt in her affections in public, though he thought anyone might tell how much she loved him.
He was quite certain that his own feelings for Penelope were obvious, for any number of innkeepers' wives had cooed over them as they made their way back to London.
They were content to be made over, to spend the morning on the road and the afternoon and evening taking great advantage of their status as newlyweds, for it meant that everyone was much more accommodating to them than they might have ordinarily been.
The return trip had taken considerably longer than the journey to Scotland, for neither of them could go more than a few hours in the carriage before they desperately wished for the privacy of a room at an inn.
By the third day of the trip, their coachman had learned to interpret a knock on the ceiling as a call to find the nearest inn, and Colin was quite sure that the fellow was laughing at them, but he could not bring himself to be bothered.
It was, perhaps, the strangest honeymoon they could have taken— a slow journey across unexciting countryside, with frequent stops at wayside inns— but Colin would not have had it any other way, for he finally had Penelope entirely to himself, and how could a man complain about such a stroke of good luck?
Adding to their desire to avoid London for as long as they could was the uncertainty of what they would find there.
Anthony was sure to be livid, and Colin's mother devastated that she had not seen him marry. Neither Colin nor Penelope had any idea of how her father might react, but Penelope was certain that her mother would be in hysterics.
There was, furthermore, the very good likelihood that they would arrive in the midst of a scandal, for there was no way of knowing whether Marina would make good on her threat to sue Colin for breach of promise.
That was to say nothing of Eloise's fury. Colin was not greatly worried for himself; the anger of a sister, however, was nothing to the disapproval of a friend, and he did not wish for Penelope to suffer.
When they had weighed it all out before them— the allure of time in each others' company when weighed against scandal and familial disappointment— the decision was quite easy.
Penelope had purchased, in Carlisle, a copy of Cary's New Itinerary, and they set about drawing out their journey to the greatest degree possible.
***
Colin had gone exceptionally quiet as they approached London.
Penelope reached across and laid a hand over his. "Colin? Are you well?"
He looked at her— his eyes blank for a moment— and gave his head a little shake. "I cannot decide where to go first."
"Between our families' houses?"
His answering nod was brief and controlled.
"Might we simply pretend we do not know any of them?"
"This," he said, a smile spreading across his face, "is exactly why you are perfect for me."
"My penchant for avoidance?"
"No." He leaned across the carriage and dropped a kiss on her forehead. "Your sly wit and irreverence, which I have found that I enjoy completely."
"Not my bosoms?" she said teasingly, and he groaned and pulled her over to him, so that she was half in his lap.
"See? Absolutely irreverent." A kiss to said bosom, then another and another. "Between your cleverness and your charms, I am doomed to follow after you endlessly, begging for a scrap of your attention."
Penelope drew his head closer to her, for she was quite enjoying his kisses, and she rather thought that he might be enticed to place them just a bit lower.
"You silly man; you needn't beg, for I am more than willing to share my charms with you."
Colin sprang at once for the curtains, and the decision of which family to see first was postponed a little longer.
***
There had been precious little time to put themselves back together after Penelope had offered him her breasts— a proposal which he had accepted with great haste, and which had, eventually, led him to lay her down across the seat and have his way with her— and then they were arriving at Grosvenor Square, no more certain than they had been about whether to call first on the Bridgertons or the Featheringtons.
In the end, it did not matter, for Gregory and Hyacinth seemed to have powers of divination; the moment the carriage pulled into the square, the pair of them flew from the house. Laughing and chattering, they pulled Colin and Penelope inside, where they were made to face the rest of the family.
Lord and Lady Featherington were sent for at once. Colin's mother called for tea, and Penelope secreted herself away with Eloise for several minutes; they came back into the drawing room with arms linked, smiling broadly, and a great wave of satisfaction passed over Colin, for their marriage had not damaged Penelope's friendship.
When Penelope's parents had joined them, and the tea had been served, it was Penelope who asked the question the two of them had discussed at great length throughout their journey.
"Where is Marina? Is she very angry?"
Anthony's expression was something between a grimace and a smile.
"Miss Thompson is now Lady Westfield," he said, "and I do not believe that you will have any worries from that quarter."
The relief in the room was palpable— though Colin was quite sure that he and Penelope had been the last ones to learn of the marriage— and conversation quickly turned to happier topics. Gregory and Hyacinth took hold of the travel guide and set about making their own plans, judging the accuracy of the book by the description of the route to Kent. Before long, they had devised a journey to the Peak District, and no amount of dissuasion would deter them from insisting that they should be allowed to go.
At last the family visit came to an end.
Penelope's parents gathered her up for the short walk back to Featherington House where she would pack her belongings; Colin's brothers drew him away into Anthony's office, where Benedict poured him several measures of whisky.
"How is married life?"
Colin took a sip before answering. "It is better than I could have imagined— Penelope and I are quite suited to one another."
Anthony raised an eyebrow. "You said the same thing about Lady Westfield."
He nearly did not want to admit it, but Anthony and Benedict were his brothers, and surely he could tell them; he had already told Penelope, after all.
"I, uh— I cannot imagine that I would have been faithful to Lady Westfield once I realized my feelings for Penelope."
A knowing smile came to Benedict's face; Anthony glowered at him.
"You could have saved us all a great deal of worry," his brother said sternly, looking every inch the viscount, "had you simply proposed to Mrs. Bridgerton when she made her debut."
Colin would have grumbled at him, but he was so caught up in how well the words Mrs. Bridgerton sounded that he found he did not have it in him.
When he had finished grinning stupidly into his whisky, Anthony was still rattling on about dowries and discussions with Lady Westfield and the Featheringtons; finally Colin was forced to clear his throat.
"My congratulations to the both of you," Anthony said, when he realized himself. "I was not sure that you and Penelope would wish to live with the family while you are newlyweds, so Benedict and I have taken the liberty of letting you a small house. It will need to be furnished before you can move in, for we were not certain that you would like it."
Colin nodded. He was quite certain that they would like any home which afforded them a good deal of privacy; he did not look forward to keeping his voice down when he and Penelope made love, and his wife made such lovely sounds that they ought not be suppressed.
***
Colin tossed her on the bed and tugged her toward him, so that her hips were just at the edge of the mattress. Bending a little, he placed a kiss on her knee.
"How is it possible," he said, "that even your knees are alluring?"
"I cannot possibly say," Penelope said, "for I do not believe that I should find your knees alluring either, but it cannot be helped."
He kissed his way down her thighs, until he just reached their apex.
"Would you like me to use my fingers or my tongue to please you?"
She wiggled her hips, hoping that it would compel him to use one of them, for he had teased her entirely too much at this point, and she could not stand it any longer.
"Either of them would be fine," she cried, "for you have toyed with me long enough, and you have given me no satisfaction at all."
Colin merely laughed at her and trailed a finger down her chest and over her nipple, indifferent to her distress.
She hitched her hips up again; though his member twitched a little at the movement, he made no move to end her agony, and she let out a little keening noise.
“You will have to be a great deal quieter than you are being at present,” he said, “for you would not wish for our family to know how pretty you sound when you fall apart for me.”
"Perhaps if you simply took me, I would not need to cry out for more."
"Oh," Colin said, with a wicked grin, "you wish me to take you?"
"You know that I do."
"Like this?" He stepped closer to her and lined himself up; just when she thought that he would finally sink into her, he took himself in hand and rubbed up against her, running his cock through her folds, just brushing her clit as he did.
"You are a diabolical man," she said, and her words came out as a breathy gasp.
"I thought you wanted my cock."
"I do." She moaned as the head of his cock brushed over her sensitive bud. "And yet you have not given it to me."
"And you have not told me how you want it."
"Hard," she told him. "And fast."
"How would you feel," he said, pushing inside her just a little, "about slow and tender?"
"That would be acceptable, if only you would go about it." At this, she hitched her hips up a little, but Colin's hands held her firmly in place.
He fucked her slowly, his hips moving so incrementally that she could not stand it.
She begged him to go harder, but he only told her that if he did, everyone would hear, and that she must be good and quiet until they had moved into their new home together.
"And then?"
"Then you may have me in every room of the house, as loud as you would like."
That sounded like a fine proposition, and so she let him continue in his slow, maddening pace, her release building and building until finally she could take it no longer. She reached up and dragged Colin's hand down to her clit; she might have known that he would be quite unhurried in his caresses, for it was clear that he wished to torture her.
"Colin—" she cried, and his fingers stopped their movement at once.
"Pen," he said warningly. "If you wish to have your release, you will have to be a good deal quieter than that."
"I do not care if there are no servants at all and naught but a mattress on the floor; we shall be moving tomorrow," she said.
Colin, in his infuriating way, laughed at her. "We have been here mere hours."
"We can visit your family as often as you like, but I am quite sure that I will not survive if you continue to torment me in such a fashion."
"I cannot have that," he said, resuming the steady motion on her clit. "I should not like to be a widower so soon after our marriage; I would miss you dreadfully."
"You would not have to miss me," Penelope ground out, "if you would simply do as I've asked you and fuck me."
"Do you think you can be quiet?"
"I shall try my best."
It had certainly not been a firm promise, but Colin must have been quite as desperate as Penelope, for he took a firm hold on her hips and began pounding into her. She reached down to touch herself and finally, finally, her release swept over her.
She cried out Colin's name, for she could not stop herself, not when she had been kept hovering on the edge of climax for so long.
Colin followed her with a grunt that might have been, "Love you," and slumped over her on the bed.
"Do you think anyone heard us?" she whispered, and Colin shook his head.
"They should all be at tea; my mother would have kept Gregory and Hyacinth away especially."
"You cruel man," she said, kissing him soundly. "You knew all the while that I need not be completely silent; you only wanted to tease me."
"I am not sure that you realize just what an enthusiastic lover you are, Pen; you are a great deal louder than you think you are."
***
Penelope let out a little squeak and grabbed his hand; Colin laced their fingers together and squeezed back.
"What is it, sweetheart?"
She nodded across the ballroom and there, standing alone, was Lady Westfield.
"We do not have to speak with her, not if it would make you uncomfortable," he said.
"Oh, but— it would seem strange, would it not?"
"I do not care at all whether it seems strange. We will do whatever makes you most comfortable."
His wife looked up at him, her eyes wide and uncertain; Colin ran his thumb over the back of her hand and she sighed.
"She is my cousin, Colin, and I suppose that we ought to speak with her, even if I would rather not."
In the end, however, they did not have to decide, for Lady Westfield crossed to them.
"Penelope!" She cleared her throat a little. "Er, Mrs. Bridgerton. Mr. Bridgerton."
"How are you, Marina?"
"I am well. Lord Westfield's estate is nearly settled, and we have come to London to finalize things."
"We are sorry for your loss," Colin said automatically.
"Thank you— he was a good man, and a good father to Oliver and Amanda, in spite of his age." She gave a little half smile. "And you have— I think it is two children now?"
Penelope's face came alive with joy, for she liked nothing more than to be reminded of Aggie and Thomas.
"Yes, Aggie just turned three, and Thomas will be two in a few weeks."
"How lovely," Lady Westfield said. "You must be very proud of them."
"We are," Colin said, and then they all fell silent.
"Well," said Penelope and Marina at just the same moment, and Pen smiled and gestured for Marina to continue.
"I see my friend, Lady Maxwell." Marina nodded across the room. "It has been lovely to see you—"
They both agreed, and they parted with good wishes and promises that they should all see one another in the future.
When she had gone, Colin tugged Penelope— for they had not dropped their hands, and so their fingers were still entwined— into a little antechamber off the ballroom. There, he pulled her to him and nuzzled his face into her hair.
"I love you," he said, pulling back so he could look at her.
"I love you, too." Penelope's voice was sweet and easy.
"I wanted you to know; I did not want you to think that I might still want her."
On hearing this, Penelope's face split in a wide smile. "You silly man," she said, nudging him playfully on the arm. "I have had no doubt about your affection, from your very first confession."
"Oh," Colin said. "Oh, that is good."
Then, snuggling closer, he said, "That is just how it would have been."
"To be married to Marina?"
He nodded. "I cannot imagine it."
"I can," said Penelope. "Every conversation polite, distant, and only about the children."
"I am sure that they are lovely children, but I would not give up Aggie and Thomas for anything. Besides, I cannot imagine that you and I will ever run out of things to talk about," Colin told her.
"We certainly have not yet. However, while we are on the subject of children—"
"You cannot mean—" His heart thumped wildly in his chest.
Penelope nodded. "My courses have not come these last few months; I have not felt the quickening yet, but I believe that it will be soon."
"Pen?" he said. "Thank you for saving me, for giving me the chance to be part of our little family; I would not have missed it for the world."