Chapter Text
The first thing Benedict noticed was the barking.
Not the usual barking of a single excited dog. This was a full orchestra of canine opinions. Somewhere to his left, three terriers were conducting an argument. A hound was adding dramatic commentary. A goat, apparently determined to participate despite not being a dog, contributed an indignant bleat.
Benedict balanced a bucket of feed against his hip and sighed.
“Every morning,” he muttered. “Every single morning.”
A wet nose nudged his elbow.
“Not you, Wellington.”
The donkey blinked innocently.
Benedict had arrived at Misfits Animal Sanctuary six months ago wearing an orange safety vest and a deeply wounded sense of pride after a spectacularly poor decision involving a motorcycle, a fountain, and several highly offended police officers.
His community service had ended three months ago.
Yet here he remained.
Because somewhere between cleaning stalls, bottle-feeding abandoned kittens, and discovering that rabbits could somehow escape from any enclosure known to mankind, he’d fallen in love with the place.
Even the seal.
Especially the seal.
The seal, named Augustus, lifted his head from the edge of his pool as Benedict approached.
“Good morning to you too.”
Augustus splashed him.
Benedict wiped seawater from his face.
“You are impossible.”
The seal barked triumphantly.
A laugh sounded behind him.
“That’s his favorite hobby.”
Benedict turned.
A young volunteer stood there.
“Owner’s here,” she said. “She wants to meet you.”
“Now?”
“Apparently you’ve become something of a legend.”
Benedict groaned.
“What did Augustus do this time?”
“He stole a garden hose.”
“Again?”
“He buried it.”
“How does a seal bury a hose?”
“No one knows.”
The volunteer shrugged.
“Come on.”
They crossed the sanctuary grounds together.
Past the horse paddocks.
Past the rabbit enclosure.
Past a tortoise who appeared to be contemplating the mysteries of existence.
The owner’s office sat in a converted farmhouse near the front gate.
Benedict knocked.
“Come in.”
The voice froze him in place.
Not because he recognized it immediately.
Because something about it tugged at an old memory.
A half-forgotten summer.
Ink-stained fingers.
Laughter under trees.
He pushed the door open.
A woman stood behind the desk sorting paperwork.
Golden-red curls.
Bright intelligent eyes.
And the moment she looked up, her expression mirrored his own shock.
For several seconds neither spoke.
Then her mouth fell open.
“Benedict Bridgerton?”
He stared.
“No.”
She blinked.
“No?”
He pointed.
“Penelope Featherington?”
Now she stared.
Then, despite herself, she laughed.
The sound hit him like stepping into sunlight.
“It is you.”
“It is you,” Benedict echoed.
“Good heavens.”
“What are you doing here?”
Penelope folded her arms.
“I own the sanctuary.”
Benedict looked around the office.
Then back at her.
Then around the office again.
“You own the sanctuary.”
“Yes.”
“The entire sanctuary.”
“That is generally what ownership means.”
He shook his head.
“I was expecting someone approximately eighty years old.”
“I’ll try not to take offense.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.”
The smile lingering on her face softened.
Neither had seen the other in years.
Not truly.
Childhood gatherings.
Family parties.
Long afternoons spent escaping noisy adults.
She had always been the quiet one with a book hidden somewhere nearby.
He had always been sketching something he shouldn’t.
And somehow, despite all the years between them, Benedict could still see traces of that girl.
Penelope seemed to be having the same realization.
“You look different.”
“So do you.”
“You’ve become taller.”
“I sincerely hope so. We were twelve.”
She laughed again.
Benedict found himself smiling before he realized it.
An awkward silence followed.
Then a loud crash echoed outside.
Both of them flinched.
Another crash.
A goat screamed.
A dog barked.
Someone shouted.
Penelope closed her eyes.
“Please tell me that’s not Augustus.”
Benedict winced.
“It might be Augustus.”
A volunteer burst through the door.
“It’s Augustus.”
Penelope sighed.
“What happened?”
“He stole Mrs. Turner’s handbag.”
“Again?”
“He learned how to unzip it.”
Benedict nodded thoughtfully.
“That’s actually impressive.”
“He’s wearing sunglasses.”
Penelope pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Of course he is.”
The volunteer disappeared.
For a moment Benedict and Penelope simply looked at one another.
Then they both started laughing.
The sort of laughter that arrives unexpectedly and refuses to leave.
When it finally faded, Penelope smiled at him.
“So.”
“So.”
“You stayed after your community service.”
He shrugged.
“I liked the animals.”
A warm look crossed her face.
“I heard.”
“And apparently you’re responsible for all this.”
She glanced out the window toward the sanctuary.
Toward the horses and dogs and cats and rabbits and goats and one criminally inclined seal.
“Someone has to look after the misfits.”
Benedict followed her gaze.
Something settled quietly in his chest.
A feeling he couldn’t quite name.
Only that somehow this place already felt more like home than anywhere had in a long time.
And perhaps, judging by the way Penelope was smiling at him, the biggest surprise waiting at Misfits Animal Sanctuary wasn’t Augustus the seal after all. 🦭✨
—
The truck rattled down the highway.
The horse trailer behind them was empty for now, clanking softly every time they hit a bump.
Four hours.
Four entire hours.
Benedict had spent the first thirty minutes discovering that Penelope drove exactly the way she ran the sanctuary.
Efficiently.
Confidently.
And with absolutely no patience for nonsense.
A sports car had cut her off twenty minutes ago.
She hadn’t even looked up from the road.
“That man is an idiot.”
Then she’d continued driving as if she’d merely commented on the weather.
Now classic rock played quietly through the speakers while Texas countryside rolled past the windows.
Benedict sat with one boot propped against the dashboard.
Penelope glanced over.
“Henry usually complains by now.”
“I am far more pleasant company.”
“You got sprayed by a skunk last month.”
“That wasn’t my fault.”
“You tried to pet it.”
“It looked friendly.”
“It was a skunk.”
“It looked lonely.”
Penelope laughed.
The sound made something warm settle in his chest.
Again.
It had been happening a lot lately.
Which was annoying.
Because Benedict had come to the sanctuary to avoid complicated feelings.
Not acquire new ones.
“So,” he said.
“So.”
“How long have you owned the sanctuary?”
“Twelve years.”
“Twelve?”
She nodded.
“I started small.”
“You started with a seal?”
“No.”
She smiled.
“Augustus came later.”
“Naturally.”
“Originally it was just a few dogs.”
The answer surprised him.
Twelve years.
That meant she’d started not long after disappearing.
Not long after leaving everyone behind.
Including him.
The thought lingered.
He looked out the window.
Fields stretched endlessly across the horizon.
“You know,” he said casually, “you vanished.”
Penelope’s hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel.
Interesting.
“I moved.”
“You vanished.”
“I sent Christmas cards.”
“That doesn’t count.”
“It absolutely counts.”
“You disappeared like a Victorian ghost.”
She snorted.
“A Victorian ghost?”
“You know. One day you’re there.”
He gestured dramatically.
“The next day poof.”
She laughed despite herself.
Then the laughter faded.
For a moment neither spoke.
The road hummed beneath them.
Finally Penelope said quietly,
“I didn’t really tell anyone.”
“No.”
“I wasn’t good at goodbyes.”
Benedict looked at her.
The answer felt too small.
There was more there.
A lot more.
But he let it go.
For now.
“You didn’t even tell me.”
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Penelope went still.
The truck continued down the highway.
A mile marker flashed past.
Then another.
She kept her eyes on the road.
“I know.”
The simple answer somehow felt heavier than a thousand explanations.
Benedict looked out the window again.
“Thought maybe I’d done something.”
Her head snapped toward him.
“What?”
“You know.”
He shrugged.
“Kids think strange things.”
“You thought you did something wrong?”
“I was twelve.”
“Still.”
She looked horrified.
“You didn’t.”
“Good.”
“You absolutely didn’t.”
The force behind her answer made him glance over.
She looked genuinely upset.
As though the idea bothered her.
A lot.
Interesting.
“Then why leave without saying goodbye?”
The question finally hung between them.
There it was.
The thing he’d wondered about for years.
Penelope didn’t answer immediately.
The highway stretched endlessly ahead.
Finally she sighed.
“Because if I’d said goodbye…”
She stopped.
Benedict waited.
“…I might not have left.”
He blinked.
That wasn’t the answer he’d expected.
Not even remotely.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I was young.”
“That explains nothing.”
“It explains plenty.”
“It really doesn’t.”
A reluctant smile tugged at her mouth.
“I had a lot going on.”
“Cryptic.”
“Life isn’t obligated to provide footnotes.”
“You’re impossible.”
“So I’ve been told.”
The conversation drifted elsewhere after that.
Dogs.
The sanctuary.
Henry’s broken arm.
Augustus stealing a birthday cake.
A rabbit named Chairman Fluffington who somehow escaped every enclosure ever built.
Yet Benedict couldn’t stop thinking about her answer.
If I’d said goodbye, I might not have left.
Hours later they finally arrived at the farm.
The horse in question was a chestnut mare.
Thin.
Nervous.
And clearly neglected.
The moment Benedict saw her, his stomach sank.
“Oh sweetheart.”
The mare flinched.
Penelope’s expression hardened.
Gone was the joking woman from the truck.
Gone was the laughter.
This was the sanctuary owner.
The protector.
The woman who fought for animals that couldn’t fight for themselves.
She moved slowly toward the horse.
Speaking softly.
Patiently.
Within minutes the mare lowered her head.
Trusting her.
Just a little.
Benedict watched in silence.
And for the first time, he understood something.
Misfits wasn’t just a job to Penelope.
It wasn’t even a business.
It was her life’s work.
Every abandoned creature.
Every broken one.
Every unwanted one.
She’d built a place for them.
A home.
The mare finally allowed Penelope to stroke her nose.
“There you are,” Penelope whispered.
The horse leaned into her touch.
Benedict smiled.
And suddenly he wasn’t thinking about the unanswered questions anymore.
He was watching Penelope with sunlight in her curls and dirt on her boots.
Watching the way she looked at frightened animals.
The way she softened around them.
The way they trusted her.
And he found himself thinking something considerably more dangerous than old questions.
He was starting to remember exactly why twelve-year-old Benedict Bridgerton had adored Penelope Featherington in the first place. 🐴❤️
—
The truck rolled steadily down the highway.
The mare stood quietly in the trailer behind them, occasionally shifting her weight as the miles slipped by.
The sun was beginning to sink, painting the horizon gold.
For a long time neither of them spoke.
Then Penelope broke the silence.
“My parents divorced quietly.”
Benedict turned toward her.
She kept her eyes on the road.
“We were given a choice where to go.”
Her fingers tightened slightly on the steering wheel.
“I worried if my dad didn’t have someone looking out for him, he’d dwindle away.”
Benedict listened quietly.
“So I went with him.”
The countryside drifted past outside.
“I couldn’t tell you goodbye because I may have stayed.”
Her voice softened.
“And my dad needed me.”
Benedict looked down at his hands.
Twelve years old suddenly made a lot more sense.
A child choosing between what she wanted and what someone she loved needed.
That wasn’t much of a choice at all.
Penelope continued.
“My dad had a friend in Montana who owned a ranch. Since my father did one thing exceptionally well…”
A smile appeared.
“Train horses.”
“Only one thing?” Benedict asked.
She laughed.
“Fine. Two things.”
“What was the second?”
“He made terrible coffee.”
“That’s not a talent.”
“It was remarkable how awful it was.”
Benedict chuckled.
She smiled at the memory before continuing.
“We moved there.”
“Montana.”
“Montana.”
“That must’ve been a shock.”
She glanced at him.
“You have no idea.”
“What was it like?”
“My nearest neighbor was three miles away.”
Benedict nearly choked.
“Three miles?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I had neighbors sharing walls.”
“I had neighbors sharing livestock.”
He laughed.
She did too.
The easy warmth settled between them again.
“But we learned to love it,” she said.
The smile lingered.
“It became home.”
Benedict nodded.
He could hear it in her voice.
Montana wasn’t somewhere she’d been sent.
It was somewhere she’d belonged.
Her expression softened.
“My dad passed away two years ago.”
The words landed gently.
Not fresh grief.
The kind that had settled deep and permanent.
The kind you learned to carry.
“I’m sorry.”
She nodded.
“Thank you.”
For several moments there was only the sound of tires against pavement.
Then she continued.
“After he died, my aunt contacted me.”
“Your father’s sister?”
“Yes.”
“Close?”
Penelope barked a laugh.
“Not remotely.”
That surprised him.
“Really?”
“She informed me she was getting older and had no use for several acres of land.”
“That’s one way to reconnect.”
“Exactly.”
Benedict grinned.
“Hello niece. Sorry about your father. Would you like a field?”
“Essentially.”
The grin tugged at her lips.
“She told me if I came to stay with her, the land was mine.”
“And then?”
Penelope looked out toward the fading horizon.
“And then I built Misfits.”
There was pride in her voice.
Not arrogance.
Just quiet certainty.
The kind earned through hard work.
Benedict found himself smiling.
“Seems to have worked out.”
“Most days.”
“Except for Augustus.”
“Especially not Augustus.”
They both laughed.
Then her smile faded slightly.
There was something nervous in her expression now.
Something he hadn’t seen before.
“And please don’t be upset.”
Benedict frowned.
“About what?”
“I’ve been here for two years.”
He already knew where this was going.
“And I didn’t reach out.”
The words came quietly.
“I didn’t want to barge into your life.”
Benedict stared at her.
Actually stared.
Penelope Featherington.
The woman who routinely wrestled escaped goats.
Who argued with veterinarians twice her size.
Who once reportedly chased a coyote off the property with a garden rake.
Who somehow thought she might be barging into someone’s life.
The idea was absurd.
“You thought I’d be upset to hear from you?”
Her gaze stayed fixed on the road.
“I didn’t know.”
“You didn’t know.”
“No.”
Benedict shook his head.
A laugh escaped him.
Not mocking.
Just genuinely baffled.
“Penelope.”
“What?”
“If I’d gotten a letter from you after all those years, I’d have framed it.”
She blinked.
“What?”
“I would’ve.”
“Benedict.”
“I’m serious.”
She stared.
For a moment she looked oddly vulnerable.
As though she wasn’t quite sure whether to believe him.
So he continued.
“You were my friend.”
The simple truth hung between them.
“You mattered.”
Her eyes returned to the road.
But he caught the small smile.
The one she was trying very hard to hide.
Something in his chest tightened.
Not painfully.
Just enough to remind him it was there.
“You know,” he said quietly.
“What?”
“I was never angry.”
She looked at him then.
Really looked at him.
“I wasn’t,” he continued.
“I missed you.”
The honesty surprised even him.
“But I wasn’t angry.”
For a few seconds neither spoke.
The truck hummed along the empty highway.
Then Penelope smiled.
A real smile.
Warm and bright.
The kind he’d been seeing more often lately.
“I’m glad.”
Benedict smiled back.
Outside, the sun dipped below the horizon.
Inside the truck, for the first time since they’d found each other again, it felt like the years between them had finally started to disappear. 🚚🐴✨
—
Sunday dinners at Anthony’s house operated under three simple rules.
Rule one: arrive hungry.
Rule two: leave full.
Rule three: prepare for interrogation.
Benedict pulled into the driveway already regretting his life choices.
Children’s bicycles littered the front yard.
A soccer ball sat in a flower bed.
A small plastic dinosaur was somehow balanced on the mailbox.
The dinosaur felt like a warning.
Before he could even knock, the front door flew open.
“UNCLE BEN!”
A small blur launched itself at his legs.
Benedict staggered backward.
“Oof.”
Eight-year-old Charlotte wrapped herself around him like an octopus.
“You came!”
“I can see that.”
Another child appeared.
Then another.
Within seconds Benedict found himself under attack from three enthusiastic nieces and nephews.
“Did you bring pictures of the seal?”
“Did the goat eat anything weird this week?”
“Can seals climb trees?”
“Hopefully not.”
The children considered this.
Then the youngest nodded.
“Good.”
The front door opened wider.
“Leave your uncle standing outside any longer and he’ll become part of the landscaping.”
Edwina stood there smiling.
Benedict grinned.
“Hello, favorite sister-in-law.”
“Only sister-in-law.”
“Details.”
She hugged him.
“Come in.”
The smell of roast chicken immediately hit him.
Anthony took Sunday dinner seriously.
Almost suspiciously seriously.
The dining room was already set.
The kids disappeared toward the kitchen at alarming speed.
Likely searching for dessert.
Anthony appeared carrying a bowl.
“You look dirty.”
“Good to see you too.”
Anthony nodded.
“You smell like horse.”
“Occupational hazard.”
“Still dirty.”
“Still annoying.”
Anthony smiled.
It was brief.
But it was there.
Which, for Anthony, was practically a parade.
Lunch began exactly as it always did.
Food.
Conversation.
Children arguing over who got the bigger dinner roll.
More food.
Then Anthony leaned back in his chair.
Benedict recognized the look immediately.
Trouble.
“What?”
Anthony sipped his iced tea.
“What?”
“That face.”
“What face?”
“The face that means you’re about to annoy me.”
Edwina laughed into her napkin.
Anthony ignored her.
“How’s the sanctuary?”
“Fine.”
“Still working there?”
“Yes.”
“Interesting.”
Benedict narrowed his eyes.
Across the table Edwina suddenly became very interested in her mashed potatoes.
Traitor.
“Why is that interesting?”
Anthony shrugged.
“No reason.”
“Anthony.”
“No reason at all.”
Charlotte looked between them.
“Daddy’s lying.”
“Thank you, Charlotte.”
“You’re welcome.”
Anthony sighed.
“Children are supposed to support their parents.”
Charlotte took a bite of chicken.
“No.”
Benedict nearly choked laughing.
Edwina looked delighted.
Anthony looked betrayed.
As he should.
Finally Anthony turned back to Benedict.
“So.”
“No.”
“So.”
“I know that tone.”
“You spend a lot of time with the owner.”
Benedict froze.
Across the table Edwina suddenly found her water fascinating.
Coward.
“Penelope?”
Anthony raised an eyebrow.
Interesting.
He’d used her name.
Not the owner.
Not she.
Penelope.
That couldn’t be good.
“Yes. Penelope.”
Benedict stabbed a potato.
“We work together.”
“Mhm.”
“That’s all.”
“Mhm.”
“Stop saying mhm.”
Anthony smiled.
“No.”
Edwina finally took pity on him.
“Anthony.”
“What?”
“You’ve frightened him.”
“I have not.”
“You absolutely have.”
Anthony looked completely unrepentant.
Which meant he was guilty.
“She seems nice,” Edwina said.
Benedict relaxed slightly.
“She is.”
Anthony’s eyebrow rose.
And there it was.
The trap.
Because apparently Benedict had answered too quickly.
Edwina hid a smile.
Anthony pounced.
“You said that very fast.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake.”
“You did.”
“We’re friends.”
“Mhm.”
“There it is again.”
Anthony shrugged.
“You’re thirty.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“You’ve spent the last decade drifting around like a tumbleweed with a checking account.”
Edwina covered a laugh with a cough.
Benedict pointed accusingly.
“You married him.”
“I know.”
“You chose this.”
“I did.”
“Voluntarily.”
“Repeatedly.”
Anthony looked pleased by that.
As if being repeatedly chosen was a personal achievement.
Which, annoyingly, it probably was.
The kids had mostly stopped eating and started watching.
Like spectators at a tennis match.
“Daddy thinks Uncle Ben likes a girl,” Charlotte announced.
The entire table exploded.
“CHARLOTTE!”
“What?”
Anthony rubbed a hand over his face.
Edwina laughed outright.
Benedict contemplated escaping through the nearest window.
The youngest nephew gasped.
“UNCLE BEN HAS A GIRLFRIEND?”
“I do not.”
“What’s her name?”
“Nobody.”
“Nobody is a weird name.”
Anthony was enjoying this entirely too much.
Benedict pointed his fork.
“You know, one day your children will embarrass you.”
Anthony glanced around the table.
“My children embarrass me daily.”
Fair point.
Dinner somehow survived.
Eventually dessert appeared.
The conversation moved elsewhere.
School.
Work.
The sanctuary.
Augustus stealing a beach towel.
Again.
But later, while helping Anthony clear plates into the kitchen, the teasing faded.
Anthony set a dish in the sink.
Then quietly said,
“You seem happier.”
Benedict paused.
The simple observation caught him off guard.
Anthony wasn’t looking at him.
Just rinsing dishes.
“You do.”
Benedict thought about it.
The sanctuary.
The animals.
The ridiculous seal.
Long drives.
Shared laughter.
Penelope.
And to his surprise…
Anthony was right.
“I think I am.”
Anthony nodded once.
As though that answered everything.
Maybe it did.
A moment later Anthony smirked.
“So what’s Penelope’s favorite color?”
Benedict groaned.
“There he is.”
And Anthony laughed all the way through washing the dishes.
Benedict parked beside the barn and checked the time.
Early.
Very early.
Which was exactly the point.
His art show started that evening in town. One of the local galleries had invited him to display several pieces, and for once he intended to arrive looking like an artist instead of a man who spent his mornings arguing with livestock.
As he crossed the sanctuary grounds, he spotted Wellington the donkey.
A mistake.
The donkey was happily chewing on a blue flannel shirt.
Benedict stopped.
“…You again.”
Wellington looked at him.
Then continued chewing.
Benedict squinted.
Wait.
That shirt looked familiar.
Very familiar.
His eyes widened.
“You little thief.”
The donkey blinked.
Benedict grabbed the sleeve.
Wellington grabbed the other end.
A brief tug-of-war commenced.
“Give.”
Chew.
“That is mine.”
Chew.
“You stole this three days ago.”
Chew.
With a dramatic sigh, Benedict finally managed to pull the shirt free.
Mostly.
The left sleeve appeared to have suffered severe structural damage.
Benedict held it up.
The shirt resembled something that had survived a small war.
“Wonderful.”
Wellington seemed pleased with himself.
“You’re lucky you’re cute.”
The donkey immediately tried to eat the shirt again.
Benedict walked away before he could lose another article of clothing.
As he rounded the corner of the main barn, he spotted Penelope.
She stood near the office with her phone pressed to her ear.
One hand rested on her hip.
The expression on her face told him she was having one of Those Conversations.
The kind only animal sanctuary owners seemed to have.
“A baby alligator?”
Benedict slowed his pace.
He already knew this was going to be good.
Penelope listened.
“I don’t know.”
Pause.
“I have to talk to Henry and see if we could have one here safely.”
Another pause.
Benedict nearly laughed.
Only at Misfits Animal Sanctuary could that sentence exist.
Penelope rubbed her forehead.
“I get it too.”
Pause.
“Yes, I know he’s cute.”
Long pause.
“No, cute isn’t the issue.”
Benedict grinned.
The person on the other end was clearly losing the argument.
“But I have to think about my other animals.”
Pause.
“And the children who visit.”
Pause.
“Safety matters.”
A much longer pause followed.
Then Penelope closed her eyes.
“No, I cannot put a tiny cowboy hat on an alligator and call him emotional support staff.”
Benedict nearly choked.
She glanced over and caught him laughing.
Her expression immediately transformed into one of suffering.
He had the distinct impression this was not the first cowboy-hat suggestion she’d received.
“No.”
Pause.
“No.”
Another pause.
“Absolutely not.”
She listened.
Then sighed.
“I’ll call you after I speak with Henry.”
The call finally ended.
Penelope lowered the phone and stared at it.
For a moment she looked exhausted.
Then she looked at Benedict.
“You heard that, didn’t you?”
“Every glorious second.”
She groaned.
“They found an abandoned baby alligator.”
“Of course they did.”
“They want us to take it.”
Benedict folded his arms.
“You sound tempted.”
“I’m not tempted.”
“You sound tempted.”
Penelope pointed a finger at him.
“It has tiny feet.”
“There it is.”
“It is not there.”
“It absolutely is.”
She sighed dramatically.
“It has ridiculously tiny feet.”
Benedict laughed.
The corners of her mouth twitched.
“Henry’s going to say no.”
“Probably.”
“Definitely.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“I’m not.”
They stood there smiling at each other.
The late morning sun warmed the sanctuary grounds.
Somewhere nearby a dog barked.
A goat answered.
For reasons no one would ever understand, Augustus barked back from his pool.
Penelope shook her head.
“My life is absurd.”
“Your life includes phone calls debating emotional-support alligators.”
“Exactly.”
Benedict looked at her for a moment.
Then remembered why he’d come looking for her.
“By the way.”
“Hm?”
“I’ll need to leave around four.”
“The art show.”
He blinked.
“You remembered.”
Penelope looked genuinely confused.
“Of course I remembered.”
Something about how naturally she said it caught him off guard.
As though remembering mattered.
As though his things mattered.
“I told you already.”
“Yes.”
“And you remembered.”
Penelope laughed.
“Benedict, that’s generally how conversations work.”
“Not for my family.”
“Fair.”
He smiled despite himself.
“Well, thank you.”
“For what?”
“For letting me leave early.”
She rolled her eyes.
“You asked for two hours.”
“Still.”
Penelope tucked her phone into her pocket.
“Go be an artist.”
Benedict grinned.
“And if Henry says yes to the alligator?”
“Then I’ll spend the next six months regretting my life choices.”
“Fair.”
As he started toward the barn, Penelope called after him.
“Benedict?”
He turned.
“What?”
A mischievous smile appeared.
“If Wellington ate your shirt again, I am not reimbursing you.”
Benedict looked down at the half-destroyed flannel still hanging from his hand.
Then back at her.
“You know what?”
“What?”
“I suddenly support the alligator idea.”
Her laughter followed him all the way across the sanctuary. 🐊🫏😂
—
Three days later, Benedict learned a valuable lesson.
Never underestimate Henry.
Especially when Henry started a sentence with, “Well technically…”
Because somehow, through a combination of paperwork, permits, phone calls, and what Benedict suspected was outright wizardry, Henry had approved the baby alligator.
The alligator was arriving next week.
Which meant construction had begun.
Which meant Misfits Animal Sanctuary had suddenly become home to six extremely fit construction workers.
Benedict wasn’t bothered.
Not at all.
Absolutely not.
Not even a little.
He stood beside Henry watching several workers unload steel fencing.
Henry sipped coffee.
Benedict frowned.
Henry sipped again.
One of the younger volunteers nearly walked into a wheelbarrow because she was too busy staring at one of the construction workers.
Henry lowered his coffee.
“Did she just walk into a wheelbarrow?”
“Yes.”
Another volunteer immediately offered a worker bottled water.
He already had bottled water.
Three bottles, in fact.
Benedict watched.
A fourth appeared.
“This is getting ridiculous.”
Henry nodded.
“It really is.”
A fifth bottle of water appeared.
“For heaven’s sake.”
One of the kennel workers suddenly found an urgent reason to sweep the exact same patch of sidewalk for the third time.
Henry sighed.
“I remember when people paid this much attention to the animals.”
“Now apparently they’re fascinated by men holding power tools.”
“They’re not even using the power tools.”
“They’re literally standing there.”
The worker in question was simply reading blueprints.
Yet somehow two volunteers had materialized nearby.
Henry looked offended.
“Nobody’s ever looked at me like that.”
Benedict nodded.
“Same.”
The two men stood in silent solidarity.
Across the yard, Penelope emerged from the office carrying paperwork.
The construction foreman immediately spotted her.
His entire face lit up.
And Benedict instantly disliked him.
Which seemed unfair.
The man hadn’t done anything.
Yet.
“Pen!”
The foreman waved.
Penelope smiled.
Actually smiled.
Not the polite smile she gave strangers.
Not the professional smile.
A real smile.
The kind Benedict usually only saw when Augustus did something ridiculous.
The foreman crossed the yard.
Tall.
Broad shoulders.
Dark hair.
Confident.
Annoyingly handsome.
Benedict hated him immediately.
“Morning.”
“Morning, Luke.”
Luke.
His name was Luke.
Fantastic.
Now Benedict had a name to attach to his irritation.
Penelope laughed at something Luke said.
Benedict’s eye twitched.
Henry looked over.
Then slowly looked at Benedict.
Then back at Luke.
Then back at Benedict.
A grin appeared.
“No.”
Benedict glared.
“No what?”
Henry pointed.
“No.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure.”
“I don’t.”
“You absolutely do.”
Benedict folded his arms.
Across the yard Luke and Penelope continued talking.
Talking.
Why were they still talking?
What possible construction-related conversation required this much smiling?
Henry’s grin widened.
“You like her.”
“No.”
“Benedict.”
“No.”
“You absolutely do.”
“I do not.”
Henry took another sip of coffee.
“You hate him.”
“I don’t hate him.”
“You don’t even know him.”
“Exactly.”
Henry nearly spit out his coffee laughing.
Benedict ignored him.
Mostly because Henry was being annoying.
Partly because Luke had just touched Penelope’s shoulder.
Friendly.
Completely innocent.
Yet Benedict suddenly wanted to throw him into the seal pool.
Not drown him.
Just inconvenience him.
“Interesting,” Henry said.
“Stop talking.”
“You’re jealous.”
“I’m not jealous.”
“You want to fight him.”
“I do not.”
A pause.
“Maybe a little.”
Henry burst out laughing.
Across the yard, Penelope looked over.
“What are you two laughing about?”
“Nothing,” Henry called.
“Everything,” Benedict muttered.
A little while later, Luke wandered over.
Apparently the universe enjoyed Benedict’s suffering.
“You’re Benedict, right?”
The man offered a hand.
Benedict shook it.
Firm grip.
Friendly smile.
The worst kind of rival.
“That’s me.”
“Pen talks about you.”
Benedict blinked.
What?
Luke continued.
“Says you’re great with the horses.”
The irritation vanished so quickly Benedict almost got whiplash.
“Oh.”
“Oh?” Henry repeated.
Benedict ignored him.
Luke smiled.
“We grew up together.”
There it was.
The answer.
The thing bothering him.
“Together?”
Luke nodded.
“Our families worked neighboring ranches in Montana.”
Benedict looked toward Penelope.
Suddenly the familiarity made sense.
The easy laughter.
The shared history.
The comfortable friendship.
Luke followed his gaze.
“She’s like my sister.”
The relief that flooded Benedict was immediate.
And embarrassingly obvious.
Henry made a choking sound.
Luke looked confused.
Benedict looked away.
Henry looked delighted.
The traitor.
Luke shrugged.
“Actually, she used to beat me up.”
Benedict blinked.
“What?”
“Oh yeah.”
Across the yard Penelope shouted,
“I HEARD THAT.”
Luke laughed.
“You threw a saddle at me when we were sixteen.”
“You deserved it!”
“You threw a saddle!”
“You stole my horse!”
“I borrowed your horse!”
“You were gone for two days!”
Luke looked at Benedict.
“See?”
Benedict stared.
Then slowly smiled.
“You know…”
“What?”
“I like her version better.”
Penelope pointed triumphantly.
“Thank you!”
Luke sighed dramatically.
“No respect.”
As the argument continued, Benedict found himself relaxing.
The knot he’d been carrying all morning unwound.
Not because Luke wasn’t competition.
Though that certainly helped.
But because watching Penelope laugh with someone from her old life filled in another piece of the puzzle.
Montana.
The ranch.
The years she’d spent away.
The life she’d built before Misfits.
And somehow learning more about that life made him like her even more.
Which was becoming a genuine problem.
Especially since, at that exact moment, Penelope turned toward him with sunlight in her curls and laughter in her eyes.
And Benedict Bridgerton realized he was in considerably more trouble than he had been when the police assigned him community service. 🐊❤️🫏
—
The baby alligator arrived on a Tuesday morning in a plastic transport crate.
The entire sanctuary had gathered.
Every employee.
Every volunteer.
Three visitors.
Two dogs.
One goat.
And, somehow, Augustus.
No one knew how the seal had gotten there.
No one questioned it anymore.
The crate sat in the center of the newly completed enclosure while everyone stared.
Waiting.
Penelope looked down at the paperwork.
“Female.”
The crowd collectively melted.
“A girl!”
“She’s so tiny!”
“Look at her little face!”
Henry folded his arms.
“She’s still an alligator.”
“She’s adorable,” one volunteer declared.
“She’s a reptile.”
“An adorable reptile.”
The argument continued.
Penelope opened the crate.
A tiny green snout appeared.
Then two bright eyes.
Then a very small alligator no bigger than a loaf of bread.
The collective gasp could probably be heard from space.
“Oh my goodness.”
“She’s precious.”
“Look at her!”
The baby alligator blinked.
Then hissed.
The crowd somehow found this even more adorable.
Benedict stood beside Penelope.
“That is the smallest dinosaur I’ve ever seen.”
“Agreed.”
The little alligator waddled out of the crate.
Waddled.
Actually waddled.
Benedict immediately understood why Penelope had lost the argument with herself.
Tiny feet.
Tiny tail.
Tiny little growl.
Dangerously cute.
The baby alligator explored her enclosure with all the confidence of a creature that would someday be six feet long.
Penelope smiled.
“Well.”
“Well.”
“She needs a name.”
Benedict nodded.
“She does.”
Penelope turned toward him.
“You should pick.”
He blinked.
“Me?”
“You.”
“Why?”
She shrugged.
“You’re the one who spent two weeks making fun of the alligator.”
“I maintain I was correct.”
“And yet here you are smiling.”
“I am not.”
“You absolutely are.”
Henry snorted.
Benedict ignored him.
The volunteers immediately gathered closer.
Apparently this had become an event.
“No pressure.”
“There is tremendous pressure.”
Penelope laughed.
“She’s your alligator.”
“My alligator?”
“You named Augustus.”
“I suggested Augustus.”
“You spent six hours convincing everyone.”
“Because Augustus is dignified.”
The seal barked from somewhere behind them.
“See?”
Penelope rolled her eyes.
Benedict looked down at the tiny reptile.
The alligator looked back.
For a moment they regarded one another.
Then she attempted to bite his boot.
The attack was unsuccessful.
Mostly because her mouth was approximately the size of a walnut.
Benedict stared.
The alligator stared.
Then tried again.
Henry laughed.
“She’s got spirit.”
“She’s got opinions.”
The baby alligator hissed.
Benedict considered.
Then considered some more.
A smile slowly appeared.
“Oh.”
Penelope immediately recognized the look.
“What?”
“I’ve got it.”
“That smile worries me.”
“It should.”
The volunteers leaned forward.
“What is it?”
Benedict pointed at the alligator.
“Her name is Duchess.”
Silence.
Then Penelope laughed so hard she nearly dropped the paperwork.
“Duchess?”
“Duchess.”
Henry immediately started laughing too.
“Why Duchess?”
Benedict looked at the tiny reptile currently trying to fight a leaf.
“Because she’s small.”
The alligator hissed.
“Judgmental.”
Another hiss.
“Clearly believes she owns everything.”
The alligator snapped at the leaf.
“And she’s absolutely going to become a menace.”
Penelope wiped tears from her eyes.
“Duchess.”
“Duchess.”
The volunteers exchanged looks.
Then one nodded.
“You know what?”
“It fits.”
“It really does.”
“It absolutely fits.”
The verdict spread through the crowd.
Within minutes everyone was calling her Duchess.
The tiny alligator responded by attempting to bite a stick.
Penelope smiled down at the little reptile.
“Duchess it is.”
Then she glanced at Benedict.
“Good choice.”
The simple praise warmed him more than it probably should have.
Duchess waddled across the enclosure.
Stopped.
Turned.
And hissed at Benedict one more time.
He pointed at her.
“You see?”
The tiny alligator hissed again.
Benedict grinned.
“That’s exactly what a Duchess would do.”
Behind them, Augustus barked.
Duchess hissed back.
The seal barked again.
The alligator hissed louder.
Henry groaned.
“No.”
Penelope sighed.
“Oh no.”
Benedict watched the exchange.
Then smiled.
“I think Augustus just found his new best friend.”
The horrified look on Henry’s face made the entire sanctuary burst into laughter. 🐊👑🦭✨
—
Benedict returned to Misfits Animal Sanctuary on Monday morning carrying two things.
A travel mug of coffee.
And a headache.
Not because Charlotte’s birthday had been unpleasant.
The opposite.
The problem with getting all eight Bridgerton siblings, their spouses, children, significant others, dogs, and assorted chaos into one location was that eventually everyone started talking at once.
For three straight days.
By the end, Benedict had been hugged seventeen times, insulted affectionately by four siblings, and forced to watch Gregory lose a water balloon fight against a nine-year-old.
It had been exhausting.
Wonderful.
But exhausting.
He pulled into the sanctuary parking lot and immediately noticed something strange.
A pickup truck he didn’t recognize.
A very large pickup truck.
One with a horse trailer attached.
“Huh.”
Benedict grabbed his coffee and headed toward the main barn.
The sanctuary looked normal enough.
Dogs barking.
Goats plotting.
A rabbit escaping.
Normal.
Then he heard a whistle.
A sharp, professional whistle.
Followed by a voice.
“Duchess. Leave the boot alone.”
Benedict stopped.
What?
He followed the sound toward the alligator enclosure.
And froze.
A man stood inside the secured area.
Tall.
Broad shoulders.
Sun-tanned.
Maybe mid-thirties.
He wore jeans, work boots, and a faded baseball cap.
Most importantly, he was somehow convincing Duchess to move away from a wheelbarrow she was attempting to conquer.
The baby alligator actually listened.
Benedict blinked.
That was new.
Duchess generally treated instructions as suggestions.
The man crouched.
“Good girl.”
Duchess waddled over.
Accepted a treat.
Then promptly attempted to attack a garden hose.
“Close enough.”
Benedict stared.
The alligator enclosure gate opened.
Penelope stepped inside.
“There you are.”
The man smiled.
And Benedict immediately knew they already knew each other.
Because apparently everyone knew Penelope.
“Morning.”
“Morning.”
The smile was easy.
Comfortable.
Familiar.
Benedict felt a tiny flicker of irritation.
Not jealousy.
Probably.
Maybe.
Definitely a little jealousy.
Penelope spotted him.
“Benedict!”
Her face brightened.
The irritation vanished immediately.
Which was annoying.
“You’re back.”
“I survived.”
“Barely?”
“Barely.”
She laughed.
Then motioned toward the man.
“Perfect timing.”
Benedict had a feeling he wasn’t going to like this.
“This is Jack.”
Of course it was.
Jack.
Why were all attractive men named things like Jack and Luke?
Why couldn’t they be named Eugene?
Or Gerald?
Something less threatening.
Jack climbed out of the enclosure.
He offered a hand.
“Nice to meet you.”
Firm handshake.
Friendly smile.
Benedict was developing a pattern.
“You too.”
Jack nodded toward Duchess.
“She’s got personality.”
“That’s one word for it.”
Jack laughed.
Apparently he was likable too.
Terrible.
Absolutely terrible.
Penelope looked delighted.
“We hired him.”
There it was.
The sentence Benedict had been dreading.
“We?”
“The sanctuary.”
Benedict nodded slowly.
“Right.”
“He specializes in reptiles.”
That was admittedly impressive.
“Really?”
Jack shrugged.
“I’ve worked with alligators, crocodiles, turtles, snakes.”
Benedict glanced toward Duchess.
The baby alligator was currently attempting to intimidate a wheelbarrow.
Again.
“How?”
“My family runs a reptile rescue.”
Naturally.
Of course they did.
Why wouldn’t they?
Penelope smiled.
“Duchess needed more specialized care than we could provide.”
Benedict had to admit she was right.
Even if he didn’t enjoy admitting it.
Jack looked toward the enclosure.
“She’s smart.”
“She’s a tiny menace.”
“Also true.”
Duchess hissed at all three of them.
Jack nodded.
“See?”
The alligator hissed again.
“Very opinionated.”
Penelope laughed.
Benedict found himself smiling despite his irritation.
The morning continued.
Animals needed feeding.
Stalls needed cleaning.
Life at Misfits moved on.
Yet throughout the day Benedict noticed something.
Jack was good.
Really good.
Patient.
Knowledgeable.
Calm.
Duchess already seemed fascinated by him.
Which was mildly offensive.
By lunchtime the little alligator came when called.
By three o’clock she had learned to touch a target stick.
By four she was following simple commands.
Benedict leaned against a fence watching.
“This feels like sorcery.”
Henry appeared beside him.
“Right?”
“She listens to him.”
“I know.”
“She never listens to me.”
Henry nodded.
“Same.”
They watched Duchess trot after Jack.
Actually trot.
Like an enthusiastic scaly puppy.
“This is unsettling.”
“Deeply unsettling.”
Across the yard, Penelope stood talking to Jack.
Both laughing about something.
Henry looked at Benedict.
Benedict looked straight ahead.
Henry smiled.
“No.”
Benedict sighed.
“Not this again.”
“You’ve got a type.”
“I do not.”
“Apparently it’s people Penelope already knows.”
Benedict groaned.
Henry laughed.
And across the sanctuary, Duchess chose that exact moment to launch herself into a puddle and soak Jack from head to toe.
The silence lasted three seconds.
Then Penelope laughed so hard she doubled over.
Jack stared at his muddy clothes.
Duchess looked enormously pleased with herself.
And Benedict decided he liked Jack considerably more now. 🐊😂
—
Benedict was halfway through feeding the horses when he heard a voice he knew far too well.
“UNCLE BEN ACTUALLY HAS A JOB!”
The entire barn went silent.
One horse lifted its head.
Another seemed genuinely interested in the answer.
Benedict closed his eyes.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Then turned around.
Charlotte Bridgerton stood in the aisle looking delighted with herself.
Behind her were her siblings.
Behind them was Edwina.
And behind everyone stood Anthony, holding their youngest daughter on his hip.
Anthony was grinning.
The worst part?
He wasn’t even trying to hide it.
Benedict pointed a pitchfork at him.
“You encouraged this.”
“I did no such thing.”
“Daddy laughed,” Charlotte informed him.
“Traitor.”
Anthony looked pleased.
“Daddy says you finally discovered employment.”
Edwina sighed.
“Charlotte.”
“What?”
“You can’t greet people that way.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s rude.”
Charlotte considered this.
Then pointed at Benedict.
“But it’s funny.”
Unfortunately, she had a point.
Anthony set the youngest down.
The little girl immediately became fascinated by Wellington.
The donkey was standing nearby chewing on what appeared to be a traffic cone.
Nobody knew where he’d found it.
Nobody wanted to know.
“DONKEY!”
The toddler waddled toward him.
Wellington looked up.
The traffic cone disappeared slightly farther into his mouth.
Anthony immediately followed.
“Absolutely not.”
The toddler pointed.
“Donkeh.”
“Yes.”
“Donkeh.”
“Still yes.”
The donkey blinked.
Then attempted to eat Anthony’s shirt.
Benedict burst out laughing.
Edwina nearly joined him.
Anthony looked offended.
“Why is this animal obsessed with clothing?”
“He’s a fashion critic.”
“He ate half my sleeve.”
“He hated the color.”
Anthony glared.
The donkey appeared unrepentant.
Charlotte had already moved on.
She was peering into a horse stall.
“You do this every day?”
“More or less.”
“On purpose?”
“Yes.”
“Voluntarily?”
“Yes.”
She stared at him.
As though he’d admitted to living inside a volcano.
“Why?”
Benedict looked around.
At the horses.
At the barn.
At the sanctuary grounds beyond.
The question surprised him.
Because a year ago he wouldn’t have had an answer.
Now he did.
“I like it.”
Charlotte blinked.
“Really?”
“Really.”
Another horse nudged his shoulder.
Benedict scratched its nose automatically.
The horse practically melted.
Anthony noticed.
His expression shifted slightly.
Not teasing now.
Observing.
“You are good at this.”
Benedict glanced over.
Anthony wasn’t joking.
For once.
“That’s concerning.”
“It was a compliment.”
“From you?”
“Don’t make me take it back.”
Benedict laughed.
The toddler had now become best friends with Wellington.
Or at least she thought so.
Wellington seemed mostly interested in stealing her shoe.
“Anthony.”
“I see it.”
“Anthony.”
“I’m literally looking at it.”
The toddler squealed with delight as Anthony rescued her shoe.
Again.
Charlotte wandered farther down the aisle.
Then suddenly stopped.
“Who’s that?”
Benedict looked up.
His stomach immediately did something inconvenient.
Penelope was crossing the yard carrying a feed bucket.
Sunlight caught her curls.
A dog trotted beside her.
Two goats followed behind like furry bodyguards.
And somehow Duchess was being carried by Jack.
The entire scene looked ridiculous.
And perfectly normal.
Charlotte followed Benedict’s gaze.
Then slowly looked back at him.
A grin appeared.
Uh-oh.
Benedict knew that grin.
He’d seen it on every Bridgerton sibling at one point or another.
The family had collectively weaponized curiosity.
“Who’s that?” she repeated.
“That’s Penelope.”
Charlotte’s eyes widened.
“The Penelope?”
Benedict froze.
Anthony suddenly found the barn roof fascinating.
Coward.
“What do you mean the Penelope?”
“The one Daddy and Mommy talk about.”
Silence.
Dead silence.
Edwina looked horrified.
Anthony looked trapped.
Charlotte looked pleased.
Benedict slowly turned toward his brother.
“You discuss me?”
“No.”
“You absolutely do.”
“Not often.”
“Anthony.”
“Occasionally.”
Edwina covered her face.
The toddler pointed at Wellington.
“Donkeh.”
Nobody listened.
Benedict stared.
Anthony sighed.
“You spend an unusual amount of time mentioning her.”
“I do not.”
“You do.”
“I really don’t.”
“You absolutely do.”
Charlotte nodded.
“Daddy says her name more than you do.”
Benedict nearly choked.
Anthony looked ready to bury himself in the horse stall.
For once.
For one glorious moment.
Anthony Bridgerton was embarrassed.
Benedict smiled.
Slowly.
“Interesting.”
Anthony narrowed his eyes.
“Don’t.”
“Oh, I’m going to enjoy this.”
“Don’t.”
Across the yard, Penelope finally spotted them.
She waved.
The children waved back enthusiastically.
The goats waved nothing because they were goats.
And Benedict found himself smiling before he realized it.
Anthony noticed.
Of course he noticed.
The grin returned.
“Interesting,” Anthony said.
Benedict groaned.
And Charlotte announced to the entire barn:
“UNCLE BEN LIKES PENELOPE.”
A horse snorted.
The donkey brayed.
And somewhere in the distance, as if adding his own opinion to the matter, Augustus the seal barked. 🐴🫏🐊😂❤️
—
Lunch at Misfits was rarely quiet.
With the entire staff gathered in the dining hall, quiet was practically impossible.
Someone was always laughing.
Someone was always telling a story.
Someone was always reporting the latest crime committed by Duchess.
Today’s crime involved stealing a work glove and refusing to surrender it.
Jack maintained the alligator had looked proud of herself.
Everyone agreed.
Benedict sat at one of the long tables between Henry and Jack.
“…and then she hissed at the veterinarian,” Jack was saying.
Henry shook his head.
“She weighs seven pounds.”
“Seven pounds of attitude.”
“Fair.”
Benedict laughed.
Across the room, Penelope sat with her lunch, listening to the conversation drift around her.
Her gaze wandered.
Past the tables.
Past the windows.
And settled on the large empty wall at the far end of the dining hall.
It was a huge wall.
Plain white.
Boring.
The kind of wall that practically begged for something.
She stared at it for a long moment.
Thinking.
Planning.
Dangerous things.
Finally she looked back toward the table where Benedict was laughing at something Henry had said.
She waited until the conversation died down.
Then she spoke.
“Benedict.”
He looked up.
“Hm?”
She pointed toward the wall.
“What do you think about doing a Misfits Wall?”
The table quieted.
“A what?”
“A mural.”
Now everyone’s attention shifted.
Penelope leaned back in her chair.
“A whole wall.”
Benedict glanced toward it.
The thing was enormous.
“How whole are we talking?”
“The entire thing.”
The room collectively turned to look.
Several volunteers immediately gasped.
“Oh my gosh.”
“That would be amazing.”
“We could put all the animals on it.”
“Duchess needs a crown.”
“Duchess absolutely does not need a crown.”
“Duchess definitely needs a crown.”
The debate started instantly.
Penelope ignored them.
Her attention remained on Benedict.
“You’d have artistic freedom.”
That got his attention.
“Oh?”
“I trust you.”
The words were simple.
Casual.
Yet Benedict felt them land somewhere unexpectedly deep.
Because trust mattered.
And because Penelope didn’t hand it out lightly.
“You’d really let me paint an entire wall?”
“Yes.”
“Without supervision?”
“Probably.”
Henry nearly choked on his drink.
“That’s irresponsible.”
Jack nodded.
“Wildly irresponsible.”
Penelope laughed.
“I’ll survive.”
Benedict looked toward the blank wall again.
His artist brain immediately started working.
Colors.
Shapes.
Ideas.
Animals.
Stories.
Possibilities.
The wall stopped being empty.
Instead he saw horses running across it.
Dogs.
Cats.
Rabbits.
The turtle.
The donkey.
The seal.
A whole history painted into one enormous piece.
His eyes lit up.
Penelope noticed instantly.
The smile tugging at her lips said she’d been hoping for exactly that reaction.
“Oh no,” Henry muttered.
“What?”
“That’s his art face.”
“My what?”
“Your art face.”
Jack nodded.
“He’s right.”
“I don’t have an art face.”
“You absolutely do.”
“You look possessed,” Henry added.
The room laughed.
Benedict ignored them.
Still studying the wall.
“You know…”
Penelope smiled.
That was usually how his best ideas started.
“You could have the sanctuary winding through the background.”
She nodded.
“I like that.”
“And every animal that’s ever lived here could be somewhere in it.”
Several volunteers immediately looked emotional.
“Oh.”
“Oh that’s sweet.”
“Now I’m going to cry.”
“Dana, don’t start.”
Too late.
Dana was already tearing up.
Benedict continued.
“The current animals would be front and center.”
“Duchess with a crown?” someone asked.
“No.”
“Yes,” Penelope said.
Benedict looked at her.
She looked entirely serious.
“You’re siding with the alligator?”
“I am.”
“Duchess has already corrupted you.”
Jack laughed.
“She’s corrupted all of us.”
“That’s true.”
Benedict sighed dramatically.
“Fine.”
Cheers erupted around the room.
“Duchess gets a crown.”
Victory.
Penelope grinned.
The smile transformed her whole face.
And for a moment Benedict forgot entirely what they were talking about.
Henry noticed.
Of course Henry noticed.
Henry noticed everything.
The man’s grin grew wider.
Benedict ignored him.
With effort.
“So,” Penelope said.
The room quieted again.
“Will you do it?”
For a second he looked at the wall.
Then at the staff.
Then at the animals visible through the windows.
Finally at Penelope.
The sanctuary had started as court-ordered community service.
Now it felt like home.
The answer wasn’t difficult.
“Yeah.”
His smile matched hers.
“I’d love to.”
The room immediately erupted into applause.
Someone cheered.
Someone else started suggesting paint colors.
Henry began listing all the reasons putting Duchess on the wall was a terrible idea.
Jack argued that Duchess deserved to be larger than life.
Penelope laughed.
And Benedict found himself looking back at the empty wall.
Except now it wasn’t empty anymore.
Now it was waiting. 🎨🐴🐶🐊🦭✨