Chapter Text
“And so Auntie Pen will be the princess and Uncle Colin will be the prince and Aunt Eloise will be the dragon,” Hermione said.
“Why should I be the dragon?” Eloise cried. “I am perfectly capable of rescuing a maiden, and Colin would make a much better dragon— just look at him.”
Richard responded that Colin was much too good natured to be the dragon, and the rest of the children took up the cry.
The argument lasted some minutes, until it was determined that Hermione had been right all along.
When everything was decided to their satisfaction, Penelope was seated in a straight-backed chair in the corner of the nursery, and Colin was given a wooden sword. Eloise, to her chagrin, was dressed in a short green cloak; a wad of orange fabric had been affixed to her head in an approximation of fire.
Everyone took to their roles with great enthusiasm. Penelope gasped and swooned; Eloise hissed at all who approached. Colin rampaged around the nursery, swinging his sword wildly; at one point, his mother was forced to remind him that they were indoors.
“Faint heart never won fair lady!” he cried, leaping forward to jab at Eloise with his sword.
She crumpled to the floor in a fit of gasps and screams, and Colin made his way to Penelope’s side.
Extending his hand, he said, with a deep bow, "Your servant, my lady."
Penelope was long past the age when she could be so affected by Colin Bridgerton. He was a pleasant dance partner and a lively dinner companion, of course, and she enjoyed the time they spent together. Great was her surprise, therefore, when Colin looked deep into her eyes as he kissed the back of her hand— and her stomach fluttered.
A chant went up among the youngest Bridgertons, and her smile— the one that had come over her face when Colin took her hand— froze in place.
"Kiss him! Kiss him, Auntie Pen!"
She looked out at the sea of little faces, all alight with the sort of mischief she had come expect in her years of acquaintance with the Bridgertons.
No one else seemed to see the idea as the disaster it surely was, and so she looked up at Colin, who surely agreed with her.
Colin, however, gave her a grin and a lazy shrug. "I did save you from a marauding dragon, Pen. Surely that is worth a kiss."
Very well; if they all insisted on a kiss, a kiss they would get.
Coming to her tip toes, she pressed a kiss to Colin's cheek. "Thank you for rescuing me, brave knight; I am ever in your debt."
***
Penelope had kissed him. It had only been on the cheek, it was true, but he could not stop thinking about it.
He was approaching fifty years of age, and he had kissed any number of women in any number of places, and he could not think of a time he had liked it better than when Penelope had kissed his cheek.
Though he had attempted to put it out of his mind for some minutes, he could ignore his cockstand no longer. He had long since slept in the nude, and so it was no trouble to take himself in hand, although he could not help but feel guilty, for surely Penelope would not have kissed him had she known that he would use the kiss as fodder for touching himself later that evening.
Wrapping a hand around his cock, he gave himself a slow stroke, then another.
How had he never thought of Penelope that way, when she was so lovely, when her lips were so pink and sweet and full? When she behaved so sweetly toward him?
He could not help but imagine those sweet lips ghosting over his cock, her breath warm as she bent to press a gentle kiss to the head. His fingers would tangle in her hair— which was, he was sure, as smooth as silk— and he would turn her face to look at him, so that he could see her eyes as she took him in her mouth.
His hand was moving faster now, as he imagined Penelope taking him deeper in her mouth, suckling at him, whispering for him to spill himself down her throat.
He came with a grunt, so quickly it stunned him.
For a long time he lay there, spent, so languid that he could not be bothered to clean his release from his belly.
Should he ask her, he thought, all that he had imagined might be his within the month— Penelope smiling at him across the breakfast table, Penelope pressing more sweet kisses to his cheek and to his mouth, Penelope's breasts brushing against his chest as she embraced him. Penelope sharing his bed.
He was decided; he would propose to her at the very first opportunity.
***
Claudia nudged his leg with her head, and he leaned down to scratch her behind the ears. From her place across the room, Penelope smiled at them indulgently, and Colin's heart gave a joyful little leap.
"She seems to like you a great deal," Pen said. "It is unusual— she typically dislikes gentlemen."
This intelligence was quite welcome, for it would, perhaps, help him to convince Penelope of how right they were for one another. Surely, if her cherished cat enjoyed spending time with him, Penelope would realize how much she herself liked to see Colin.
She may well be comfortable by herself— and so was Colin, for that matter— but their lives would be richer together. Surely she must see that.
It did not appear that she did, for when he had made his proposal, she had laughed merrily and insisted that such a drastic step was not necessary— it was nearly 1840, after all, and at their advanced ages, no one would think a thing of a kiss on the cheek between friends. He had no obligation, therefore, to offer for her.
Before he had time to wrap his mind around the rejection, she had gone to her tiptoes, kissed his cheek once again, and scampered off, no doubt to take Claudia on one of their many long rambles.
That had been a week ago, and she seemed no closer to accepting his proposal than she had been before. Indeed, he was not certain that she had thought of the proposal at all after he had made it.
With his mind fixed on the possibility of winning Penelope over, he patted the sofa beside him; Claudia hopped up and settled in next to him.
He patted her head again and felt the rumble of her purr against his leg.
"I wonder why she likes you so much," Penelope mused, then realized how she must have sounded. "Oh! I am not saying that she should not, but it is not her nature."
"I have simply charmed her," he said. "If you would give me the chance, I would do the same for you."
"Oh, Colin," she said, "you are very sweet. I received a letter from my mother this morning— would you mind sitting with Claudia for a time while I draft my response?"
Colin, who was quite eager to demonstrate his ability to care for Penelope's beloved pet, agreed at once.
Penelope curtsied to him and made for the door. When she had closed it, he reached absently toward Claudia to give her another scratch about the ears, but his hand met with air. The cat had gotten to her feet and hopped the short distance to the tea table, where she nudged Colin's empty cup with her paw. It did not move, and so she nudged it again and it toppled from the table and landed on the carpet.
Then, her mischief accomplished, she cast a baleful look at him and made for her bed in the corner of the room.
Was he imagining—? The cat had liked him only a moment before; she had been purring and had curled up next to him. Then, the moment Penelope left the room, she knocked over his cup, as though—
He shook his head. Cats were finicky creatures, and this one had seemed perfectly friendly, so it was likely that she had simply tired of his company and wanted some new form of amusement. Surely she was not misbehaving on purpose.
***
Claudia had been so sweet with Colin, and Penelope could not reconcile it in her mind. Claudia was rarely sweet with anyone, and never sweet at all with gentlemen. She tolerated Briarly, although it was clear that she held no great affection for him.
But with Colin, Claudia had curled up beside him and encouraged him to pet her, and it made it all the more difficult not to think of him in a romantic sense.
That ship had long since sailed, for who had ever heard of a bachelor and a spinster— both past the age of forty— making a match of it?
Perhaps if he had asked her before her thirtieth birthday, or even her fortieth, she might have agreed to an engagement.
Still, she could not help but press her fingers to her lips every so often, so that she might remember how Colin's cheek had felt against them. Her heart clenched a little every time she did it, for she had longed— all those years ago— to kiss him; it had seemed so natural to finally do it.
Colin, however, did not seem nearly so affected by the kiss. Of course he was not, she reminded herself, for he must have kissed scores of women, and Penelope was simply one among many.
It was true that he had proposed to her, but that was surely borne of a sense of obligation, brought on when she had kissed him.
Standing, she smoothed her dress. Claudia and Colin should still be in the drawing room, and perhaps the three of them might go for a walk, as they had done the previous afternoon.
***
"Have you seen my green cravat, Sinclair?"
Sinclair responded that he had not.
"I was certain that you had packed it," Colin said. "I thought that I wore it several weeks ago."
"Perhaps it was mixed up with your one of your brothers' things," Sinclair suggested. "I will ask their valets this afternoon."
Colin nodded absently. He did not wish to admit that he wanted to wear the cravat because Penelope had told him that it made his eyes look very green, although that was certainly the reason.
He suspected that he or Sinclair must have misplaced it, for he could not recall any laundry having ever been lost at Aubrey Hall.
Sinclair offered him several other cravats as choices, and he selected a plain white one. It would not be as flattering as the green, but he still thought he looked reasonably well in white.
Cravat tied, jacket in place, he stepped into the hall. Before he had taken two steps, a little flash of orange and green streaked by. It was Claudia, and she had something in her mouth.
He shook his head and continued on to the dining room. The cat was certainly a lively creature for her age.
***
Claudia had stolen his cravat. He had suspected her of thievery for some days now, but only this morning, Sinclair had found her in the dressing room, and the idea had crystallized itself in his mind.
It was difficult to imagine what she might be doing with so many of them, for it was not just the yellow one that had disappeared this morning, but the green one he had first noticed last week, and the blue that vanished on Friday.
Colin determined that he would follow her and try to discover what she was about, for he had begun to think— in spite of the sweetness she showed him when Penelope was about— that Claudia did not care for him, and so there was no reason at all that she should pilfer his clothing.
He set out after her, and after checking all her usual spots, he finally found her, curled up in a corner of the library.
She did not acknowledge him, but got to her feet and stretched languorously before padding out of the room on silent feet.
When she had enough of a head start, he followed, and stepped into the hall just in time to see her tail disappear around the corner. She made for a small, ornate table in the hall, and slipped under the little shelf at the bottom. He did not wish for her to realize his scheme, so he continued to the drawing room; he would come back later to see if he had discovered her hiding place.
"Colin!" Penelope cried when he entered the drawing room. "I had supposed that you would be out riding."
"No," he said, coming to sit beside her on the sofa. "I had some business to handle, and I thought that I might accompany you and Claudia on your walk, if you have not already taken it."
***
Surely Colin could not mean anything by coming so often to walk with her and Claudia, but it sparked a feeling in her heart that she had thought was long since extinguished.
When she did not respond at once, he smiled at her, and the squirming in her stomach increased. How was it possible that a man of his age was still so handsome? The little crinkles at the corner of his eyes, the slight wrinkles on his forehead and around his mouth— all should have marked him as past his prime, yet they left her with a strange swooping sensation when she looked at him.
"We have not walked out yet, and we would be delighted to have you walk with us."
She stood and reached for Claudia's lead, but before she could get it, Colin had gathered it up and scooped Claudia into his arms. He fitted it around her legs and shoulders and set her down on the ground, where she twined about his legs, meowing loudly.
Stepping gingerly from the tangle, he offered his arm to Penelope, who took it and forced herself not to squeeze at his bicep.
Perhaps— no, she could not allow herself to think it, no matter how lovely it would be to marry him. He could not have truly meant his proposal; he had simply made it out of obligation. She had put those dreams aside years ago, and she would do well to remember that she had.
Still, she allowed him to lead her and Claudia from the house, down to the garden. Colin had learned Claudia's favorite paths with great facility, and they wandered down them, Claudia stopping every few yards to smell a flower or bat at a particularly fluffy area of grass.
***
It was time for Claudia's midmorning walk, and the little cat was nowhere to be seen. She disappeared more and more frequently these days, as she became increasingly comfortable with Aubrey Hall and its environs.
Penelope would normally close her bedroom door— especially as she had been placed in the family wing for this visit— but Claudia meowed piteously when she could not get in, and Penelope was not always there to help her. The door, therefore, was left cracked open, and Claudia was able to come and go as she pleased.
This meant that it was no surprise when, a few minutes after Penelope noticed her absence, Claudia slipped into the room. What was surprising, however, was that she had a length of fabric held firmly in her mouth.
"What do you have there, Claudia?"
When Claudia made no move toward her, Penelope got to her feet and crossed to the cat. Reaching out, she tugged the fabric from Claudia's jaws.
Her stomach sank to the floor. It was Colin's cravat; how could she possibly go to him and say that her cat had stolen his necktie?
She could not do it; the humiliation would be far too great.
Colin, at any rate, had so many cravats that he surely would not notice that one had gone missing, and if he did, he would not think a thing of it, for he had so many more.
There was a vague flicker, in the back of her mind, that said she might take the cravat to Colin, so that she could see his bedchamber; she brushed it aside as quickly as the thought came. Colin would not want her there, and she could not insinuate herself in his life that way, no matter how much she wanted it.
She took up the cravat and crossed to her desk, where she kept a little locked box of bits and bobs. The cravat was tucked in among all the rest of her things, folded up in a neat little bundle.
Then, the cravat handled, she fitted Claudia's leash to her and set out to see if Colin might like to accompany them on their walk.
***
"I am entirely too old for this," he muttered.
"Too old for what?" Penelope said.
He wriggled out from under the table and stood to greet her. He could not tell her that he suspected Claudia of stealing his cravats, and he certainly could not tell her that he had been keeping track of the cat's favorite hiding places, so he straightened and extended his hand.
"My ring rolled under the table, and I am entirely too old to be down on my knees retrieving it."
"Ah," Pen said, her voice knowing. "I had forgotten that you had attained the advanced age of seven and forty. If you find that you are too ancient to go down on your knees, perhaps I can do it for you."
She could not know what she was saying, but it did not stop him from imagining it, for now that he knew the feeling of her lips on his cheek, he could imagine them on his cock all too easily.
"I hope that we may always be of service to one another," he managed, and Pen beamed up at him.
"I have just gotten back from my walk with Claudia," she said, "and I thought I might do a bit of reading."
Colin understood her at once.
"May I escort you to the library?"
She nodded and reached for his arm, and they made their way across the house. It was all too easy to imagine their lives once they married— if Penelope ever agreed to have him.