Chapter Text
“I am a man of honor. And we were intimate. Perhaps that was another part of your planned entrapment.”
When Colin had been knocked off his horse by her yellow bonnet, all those years ago, the blow had forced the breath from his lungs. She remembered how it took a moment for him to recover, to speak.
She knew he was well again when he laughed that day. But now, today, she feared that he never would again. She had never seen him so stern, so bitter.
He glanced away dismissively after he said it, but her continued silence prompted him to look at her again. She was determined to hide how near her tears were to the surface. If he scratched even lightly there would be no barrier left. It felt as though her entire body had been scrubbed raw. She wished to say that she had been sure they wanted each other . But it would only show her weakness. Her naivete, when she already knew he was so much more experienced in the ways of lovemaking. Or worse, he would accuse her of more duplicity.
“I did not mean to entrap you Colin; I love you.”
His only response was to clench his jaw and stare off to the far side of the room where their mothers still spoke blithely of their wedding. Meanwhile, not a trace of her affectionate friend could be felt; even his eyes felt like those of a stranger.
“What will this marriage be?”
“That depends. I notice there is no Whistledown this morning. Are you going to stop publishing?”
“I do not know.”
There was a sinking feeling, that same one she experienced when Debling said he did not believe love could grow. Again, she felt a tearing, a sense that she was being forced to choose between equally important parts of her very self.
“Let us get through this wedding,” Colin said decisively. “Then we will decide what this marriage will be.”
It sounded like an ultimatum. It was one, no matter how Colin might dress it up in notions of honor. If she was Whistledown, she would not be loved. Not by him. Certainly not by anyone else.
And then there was the matter of entrapment. It was exactly as she feared. Colin had always looked upon her with so much fondness. But now his entire notion of who she was had changed. Now, all he could see was her deceit, her cunning. No wonder his love had disappeared as quickly as it came.
Now they were both trapped. Because of her stupidity, because of the way he melted her insides when he touched her. Because of the way she was always his and would give him anything, including her body. Because a piece of him may have taken root inside her. It had all become so complicated, like a kaleidoscope that continued to turn, jumbling into new patterns and new problems with every conversation. But it could be simple instead, if they wished for it.
“When will we know?” she asked quietly. “What are the signs?”
“What?” Colin stared at her stonily, and from the coldness in his tone she knew this was the right path. She could not stand to shiver in his presence when she knew he could be her sun.
Penelope watched to ensure that their mothers and Varley were distracted. They were still arguing, politely of course, over the size of the room, so she felt safe to speak.
“If I am,” she paused, lowering her voice to a whisper, “with child. If I am not, there may be time to release you from your promise.”
“Penelope!” he cried in a scandalized tone.
The mothers had finally noticed their argument, falling silent as they looked across the room at the betrothed couple. Violet looked ready to intervene, so Penelope smiled reassuringly and asked if they could take a turn about the garden for some fresh air. It was a thinly veiled excuse, but the tension between them must be palpable, for the plan was quickly agreed upon. Colin had no choice but to follow her outside to her favorite bench, and she gestured for him to be seated.
“If there is a babe, it would not be right to make them a– a bastard.” Her lip trembled at using such a word for any child of theirs, for even now a tiny part of her softened with love at the thought of it. His entire body had gone stiff with disapproval at her speech, but she pushed forward regardless. “But if there is no child, there is no need for you to tie yourself to me. A lady is permitted to change her mind and I could break the engagement. Whatever you think of me now, I do not wish for you to be unhappy. I could not bear it.”
“Penelope, I made you a promise and I intend to keep it,” he replied rather sternly.
Colin looked as if he wanted to say more, but she had no intention of allowing him to bluster on about honor. It was already difficult enough to speak of ending their betrothal, and she was not certain how far her courage would carry her if he continued to interrupt.
“I would not think you any less a gentleman. If you will only tell me of the signs, explain it to me, I am certain we can find another way.”
Colin’s mouth set into a thin line. “Your mother has surely explained…”
Penelope shook her head. “All I know of– of intimacy–” She paused, blushing to speak of it to him now. The time when he had looked at her so lovingly, had told her all he admired about her in front of the mirror, seemed so far away. “All I know of what happens between a man and a woman, you have taught me.”
“Can you not ask your mother?” he asked with great reluctance. “I am not certain either.”
“Don’t you see Colin? That would only ensnare you more tightly. For if anyone suspects you have compromised me, we will be forced to marry, baby or not.” Penelope thought hard for a moment. “Perhaps you could ask one of your…lovers?” She wasn’t certain how else to refer to them politely, but word of his visits to the local brothels had been reaching Lady Whistledown all season. “They must know a great deal about it.”
“My lovers?”
“The women you lie with at pleasure houses,” she said evenly.
“And what would you know of such matters?”
Colin was trying mightily to disguise his discomfort, she could tell. But it was difficult not to be a little offended. First, he accused her of being calculating, and now, he accused her of naivete.
“I know that you prefer to share your bed with two women at once,” she replied and he reared back, eyes wide. A small part of her felt the thrill of her power to surprise him. “Is it not said that there is strength in numbers? Surely at least one amongst you will know the signs of pregnancy.”
She was suddenly reminded of Colin’s delighted expression when she landed a barb. It was in direct contrast to his current shocked frown, as though she had slapped him.
“How can you speak so calmly of this?” Colin demanded. “Are you so cold that you do not even care if I bed other women while we are engaged? Now I understand how little you respect me, that you think I would discuss my wife with–”
Colin could not even complete his sentence. Penelope noticed his hands were shaking and she reached to brush against them reassuringly. Colin snatched himself away, and she drew a deep breath. She bit her lip, trying to think of a way to explain it to him.
“I am trying to remain calm for both of our sakes,” she said quietly. “And if I speak of you with other women as if it means nothing, perhaps it will not hurt me when you turn to them for comfort.”
“That would hurt you?” he asked, his attention snapping back to her face.
“You think me so unfeeling,” she remarked sadly. “Before, when I read about your Parisian girls, it…excited me. Made me realize all the passions you hide from polite society. But after our engagement I wished for your passion to be all for me. Of course I did. But now I must be practical.”
“I cannot make sense of you any longer.”
He raked his hand through his hair in frustration and again, she tried to touch him. He shrugged her hand off his shoulder and it steeled her resolve. Colin could not bring himself to do what they must. This would not be a happy union, and he seemed unable to act decisively to save himself.
“You need not make sense of me if there are no consequences to our intimacy. If you can find a discreet way of learning what we need to know.”
Colin stared at the ground. “Very well. I will find a way and then send you a note. We can discuss how to proceed at that time.”
“Oh, you must not put it in writing!” Penelope said with alarm. “It could be intercepted, and then all would be for naught.”
“I will call on you then,” he said stiffly. “If that is what you wish.”
“Thank you,” Penelope said. They sat in silence for a moment, the air thickening with awkwardness. He was her friend, he was her betrothed, and yet, their relationship was in such disarray that in this moment they were nothing at all. Finally, she turned to him with a weak smile. “I will set this right, Colin. I promise.”
“Penelope…” Her heart squeezed at the sorrow in his voice, at the way his mask slipped for only a moment. “We must not be hasty,” he finally said.
Their eyes met, and she longed to embrace him, to provide him with some comfort. To settle her head against his chest and let him soothe her . How she wished he would, that he would reassure her that they could sort out this mess, together. But that was a mere fantasy, and dwelling on it would only prevent her from doing what she must.
“All will be well, Colin. We were hasty before, and now…now I have hurt the person I love the most. I will set this right,” she repeated.
He scoffed, and that was the worst pain of all, that he doubted her love. He was so brittle at the moment, as if the wrong word from her would shatter him. She could think of nothing else to say, but in the end she did not need to. For Colin had risen, bowing stiffly over her hand. His lips brushed the air above it, as if even a hint of her skin against his mouth would be poison.
“I will visit on the morrow,” he said. “Good day, Penelope.”
“Good day,” she replied, and watched him go, her heart in agony.