Chapter Text
Colin woke suddenly. A baby was crying, and by the sound of it, the baby was quite close. He opened his eyes and found himself lying on his side. He lay still. He was not in his bed. He was in a room he did not recall ever having seen before, but something about it was vaguely familiar. His chest tightened with panic. He did not have a headache or any other signs that might indicate he had drunk too much the night before. He did not feel unwell or injured. The last he remembered he had gone to bed in his room in Bridgerton House. He had been glad to be in his bed again, since he had gotten back from Greece only that morning. He did not remember doing anything unusual that night. He had been at home with his family. But now he was here, in an unfamiliar room, and a baby was crying. He tried to keep his breath even and remain calm. While he was traveling, he often woke up in locations that seemed unfamiliar for the first few moments. Maybe, just maybe, if he could figure out where he was and how he got there, all might be well. Or if not well, at least not as incomprehensible.
Colin felt the mattress shift when someone got out behind him on the other side of the bed. He froze. He tried to slow his breathing in order to look like he was still asleep. He could not imagine who would have been in bed with him. After a few soft footsteps, a woman’s voice whispered, “Good morning, my love. Your father seems to still be asleep. Letting him get some rest would be nice of us, would it not?” The baby’s cries lessened, and he presumed the woman had picked up the baby. After a few more footsteps, a door opened and shut quietly. The woman and the baby had left.
As he reflected on the woman’s voice, it reminded him of Penelope’s. A bit deeper and more mature, perhaps, but Penelope’s, nonetheless. He smiled when he thought of her. He had been so happy to see her yesterday when he had entered his family’s drawing room. After all the letters they had exchanged while he had been traveling, he had come to know her even better than before. He had counted her as a friend from the moment they met, but now, he considered her his very dear friend. He had wanted to embrace her yesterday, even though he knew that would be inappropriate. He could not quite explain why he had felt that way, but it was true. Later, at the races, he thought he had managed to cover his irritation when Eloise came and stole Penelope away from him, but he had certainly felt a flash of it. When Eloise said he was in her way, as if she had more of a right to Penelope’s attention and friendship than he did, he couldn’t stop a brief feeling of possessiveness toward Penelope. Since he had met her first, if anyone had a right to claim her, it was him. He realized that made no sense, and that Eloise and Penelope were exceptionally close, but he cared for Penelope, too, whether Eloise liked it or not.
Colin sat up slowly and tried to assess the situation. He took several deep breaths and decided that he would try to focus on one problem at a time. First, he needed to know where he was. He was clearly in a bedchamber, and he was sure he had never been here before. The shades of green on the curtains reminded him of Featherington House, but he had never seen any of the bedchambers and could not imagine why he would be in one now. There was a bassinet near the bed, which he presumed the baby had been in before the woman had tended to it. The implication that he might be the child’s father left him feeling, well, a bit panicked. He could not have fathered a child. He had never lain with a woman before and since that was a requirement, he knew it was not possible. Was the woman mistaken about his identity? Was she trying to mislead him? He had used some tea in Greece that caused some interesting effects on his mind, but he did not think it caused hallucinations. If this was a hallucination, it was a very detailed one. Again, he made the effort to calm himself so he could try to ascertain what was happening.
As Colin stood to get dressed, he caught sight of himself in the full-length mirror near the foot of the bed and immediately sat back down again. He was trimmer and more muscular than he had ever been in his life. His hair was longer. He looked a bit older but not in a bad way. But this was not what he had looked like when he fell asleep, and that terrified him. Standing back up, he looked closer at his reflection. He truly did look different. Frankly, he thought he looked quite good. Now that he was paying attention, his body felt different. He was stronger. He looked better than he ever had in his life. Since he had been sleeping shirtless, he could easily view his arms and torso. Experimentally, he flexed his arm and watched the muscles ripple on his arm and shoulder. When he shifted, his abdomen flexed in a visible way that he had never seen before. If it were not so unnerving to wake up looking so different, he would have been extraordinarily pleased with his appearance. It was truly impressive. He shook his head to clear this distraction from the problem at hand. He had to figure out where he was, who the woman and baby were, and what their relationship was to him.
After quickly getting dressed, Colin hesitantly padded out of the bedroom and found himself in a small sitting room that seemed to be part of the bedroom suite. His jaw dropped. The woman whose voice had heard was indeed Penelope. She sat on a settee in a nightdress. To make matters more unfathomable, she was nursing the baby who had been crying. He could not process what he was seeing or why this scene was playing out in front of him. Colin was not unfamiliar with the concept of nursing. It was somewhat unusual for women of the ton to nurse their own children, but his mother had nursed all her children, so he did not find the idea strange in and of itself, though he had never seen it firsthand. What he did find shocking was Penelope sitting calmly in front of him in a nightdress with one of her breasts exposed as she nursed a baby who he had not met before, all while she was acting like nothing was amiss. Penelope was not married. Penelope did not have a baby. Penelope should not be in this state of undress in anyone’s presence, let alone his. Feeding a baby was not erotic, of course, but her comfort with being exposed in front of him was decidedly unsettling.
When Penelope saw him, she smiled. Her smile was warm and open. She was clearly happy and unsurprised to see him. Penelope had smiled at him plenty in the years he had known her. He loved her smile, especially when it was directed at him, but this was somehow different. She was not guarded or nervous. She looked content in a way he had rarely seen Penelope look before. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he felt a twinge of sadness. In his memory, which was looking to be at least somewhat faulty, she had lost her father several months before. He knew they had not been close, but he was still worried about her and hoped she was well. Even before her father’s death, however, she had rarely seemed fully content, and he wished that were not so. If anyone deserved contentment, it was Penelope.
After a prolonged silence, Penelope tipped her head to the side. “Colin, are you well?”
He cleared his throat, resolved to see how this conversation would unfold while he attempted to conceal how confused and alarmed he was. “I am,” he answered, “just a bit tired.”
She smiled again. “I thought so. I know you love caring for your son when he wakes overnight, but you are allowed to sleep sometimes. It is not as if you can do everything.” At this she gestured to her breast right as the baby popped it out of his mouth. He tried not to notice that it truly was the most perfect breast he could imagine when unconstrained by her truly unfortunate dresses, but he could not stop his gaze from wandering down from her face. Almost without being aware he was doing it, he licked his lips. Penelope giggled. “It is amusing to me that you still take every opportunity to ogle me, Colin. We have been married for a year. I figured you would stop at some point.”
Colin nodded slowly while his mind tried desperately to understand what she had said. He was married. To Penelope. He had been for a year. And clearly, they had a baby. He looked at the baby again and frowned. That was not a newborn. That baby had to be at least four months old. He assumed Penelope had rounded then, and that they had been married for over a year.
Penelope looked at him with concern. “Truly, Colin. Are you well?”
Colin was having trouble forming words. None of this made sense, and Penelope’s still-exposed breast made it hard for him to concentrate. He kept telling himself he was a gentleman, and a gentleman would not stare at a young lady’s breast, but he found it exceedingly difficult to hold on to that fact. He looked wildly around the room, trying to focus on something–anything–else. “Do you—” Colin broke off and swallowed before trying again, “Do you happen to have a copy of today’s paper?” Penelope shook her head. “Just Whistledown, I am afraid.” Colin shrugged and grabbed it from the side table. It would have the date, which was what he really wanted.
A quiver of panic went through him when he saw the year. 1816. It was 1816. He had gone to sleep in 1814. Not knowing how to process that, he decided to keep reading, since he could use the distraction if nothing else. He had complicated feelings about Lady Whistledown. He was still angry for what had happened to Miss Thompson, though he did think it for the best that he had not married her. Well, most of the time, at least. The way Whistledown had ruined her, though, left a bad taste in his mouth. If things had been different, if Whistledown had not rushed to print when she did, if Marina had told him herself, maybe, just maybe, they could have worked things out. Maybe he would be married to her, or at least, he could have avoided that awful discussion he had with her in front of Daphne. Maybe they would be happy together, even if he’d had to raise a child that was not his own. He loved children, and he had thought he was in love with Marina. Whistledown had certainly ruined Miss Thompson and humiliated him. He had looked like a fool in front of the entire ton. He had indeed been a fool, that was not in doubt, but that did not mean he had liked it being exposed so publicly. He worried about Marina and regretted that she could never return to London society. For all these reasons, he could never forgive Lady Whistledown.
If Colin were completely honest, however, he did enjoy the gossip in Whistledown most of the time. And it was extraordinarily well-written. The author was clever and witty, peppering her writing with allusions and puns. She was clearly well-read and intelligent, despite her other faults. It was, frankly, a good source of entertainment. As long as you were not her current target, that is.
As he read, Colin realized the tone was a bit different than what he had come to expect. It was a bit less sharp and cutting. The content was different too. There seemed to be more of an emphasis on giving voice to the voiceless than simply repeating the best gossip. He smiled as he read. It was different, but somehow it felt familiar too. He liked it. At least there was one thing that was reliable.
Pleasantly distracted by Lady Whistledown, Colin was mostly holding himself together, despite his confusion and dismay, until he reached the end of the column and saw the last line. “Yours truly, Penelope Bridgerton.” As if it had caught fire, he dropped the paper. An icy feeling washed over him. He looked up at Penelope who was talking softly to the baby. She glanced over at him and raised her eyebrows. “I am pleased with how the section about Lady Bushwick turned out. I presume you approve?” Her casual question confirmed what the name on the column had revealed. A pit formed in his stomach. Penelope was Lady Whistledown.
Clearing his throat, Colin said, “I must go to Bridgerton House. I forgot to mention it earlier.”
Penelope tilted her head to the side. “Shall I go with you? I can have Rae dress me quickly. You know your mother loves seeing Lord Featherington.” She rolled her eyes affectionately as she said the title.
Colin shook his head. He needed to get out of there. He needed to think. He needed to get away from Penelope. He needed to figure out what was going on. “No, you stay here.” The tone had been sharper than he intended, and Penelope frowned at him but then nodded. Colin left as quickly as he could.
Colin walked quickly down the hallway, hoping he was heading toward the stairs. A maid he did not know nodded at him as he approached her. As he made to walk past her, her brow furrowed. “Mr. Bridgerton, does Mrs. Bridgerton require my assistance?”
Not knowing how to answer that, Colin shrugged and said, “She is awake.” The maid’s gaze searched his questioningly. She must not have been pleased with what she saw there, since she pursed her lips slightly, nodded, and walked off.
Reaching the staircase, Colin was finally certain that he was indeed in Featherington House. That was also strange. He seemed to be living there with Penelope and his son. Colin might have been a third son, but he had access to a few houses that belonged to the Bridgerton estate. In fact, he knew there was a townhouse available to him whenever he decided to take a wife. But he seemed to be living with his wife’s family. That would be unusual under any circumstances, but he had trouble imagining why he would ever choose to live with Lady Featherington if he could avoid it. Honestly, he was not sure why Penelope would choose it either. Her mother had never been kind or warm as far as Colin could tell, even to her own daughters. Shaking his head, he all but ran down the stairs and out the front door, before any of the servants could open it for him.
Hyacinth was the only member of Colin’s family in the drawing room when he arrived. Looking at her, there was no doubt that time had passed. She was no longer a little girl and must have been as tall as Penelope, if not taller. Hyacinth greeted him with a smile while trying to look around behind him into the hall. “Colin! I did not expect to see you this morning. Should I presume that Penelope and Lord Featherington are with you?”
Colin shook his head. Penelope had also mentioned Lord Featherington, and he found the reference confusing. He had not yet met the new Lord Featherington, though he had seen him from a distance at the races. Colin thought he was a distant cousin of Penelope’s. Colin supposed if it truly was 1816 then maybe he had become friends with the man in the intervening years, but it seemed odd that his family would be so attached to him.
“Penelope is not with me.”
Hyacinth frowned as his mother walked in the room. She greeted him and then asked, “Did I hear you say that Penelope and Lord Featherington are not here?”
Hyacinth nodded. “It is quite unusual, is it not? I do not think I have seen Colin without Penelope for quite some time.”
Violet frowned. “No. I do not think we have seen Colin without Penelope since right before the Dankworth-Finch ball last year.” Colin was puzzled by this. Even if he and Penelope were married, surely they must have been apart some of the time. Violet looked at him with concern. “Is everything well, dear? With you? With your wife?”
Colin truly did not know how to answer that. Nothing felt right. If Penelope truly was Whistledown, he could not imagine things ever truly being quite right between them, but they clearly had been, based on how Penelope treated him this morning. He had no concept of how to answer his mother’s question about his wife, since he had not been aware he had one until quite recently. The longer he was silent, the more concerned his mother looked. Finally, he cleared his throat. “All is well. Can a man not wish to spend time with his sister and his mother?”
Hyacinth scoffed. “Without Penelope? And truly, do you think we wish to see you apart from Penelope and Lord Featherington? Why do you think we tolerate your presence here so often?” Violet chided Hyacinth to be nicer to her brother, but Hyacinth just rolled her eyes. “It is true, Mother, even if you will not admit it.”
“I am always pleased to see my son. Though I do rather adore seeing Lord Featherington.” She smiled so tenderly at the last part that Colin was again confused. He desperately wanted to know why everyone was so friendly with Lord Featherington. Colin very much hoped his mother did not have some type of romantic attachment to the man.
Colin was still lost in thought when Eloise entered the room. She was dressed to go out. “I thought I heard your voice, Brother. I was about to go see Penelope and my namesake, but when I heard you speaking, I had to check that they were not already here.”
“Your namesake?” Colin asked, even more confused.
Eloise rolled her eyes. “I know Penelope finds it funny when you refer to him as Lord Featherington, and you like nothing more than making her laugh, and Mother thinks it is unbearably cute to call him by his title. Even Hyacinth is calling him that now. The poor child is not even going to learn his own name, nor that he was named for me, with how you are all carrying on with his title.”
Colin shook his head slowly. “Penelope is across the street. I am unsure where Lord Featherington is.” He could not be sure of where Lord Featherington was if he was not sure of his identity. The reference to him being a child and Eloise’s namesake made Colin less sure that he knew who they were talking about.
Eloise scoffed. “Do you refer to him as such to amuse Penelope or to irritate me?”
Colin, despite having little idea what was happening, knew the answer to this question by instinct. “Have you not considered, Sister, that it might be both?” Doing something that made Penelope laugh and frustrated Eloise sounded like something that any version of himself would choose. He did enjoy making Penelope laugh. When she truly laughed beyond a polite giggle, her whole face lit up. Colin was proud every time he accomplished it, especially if it was just with a silly pun. Annoying Eloise was always a bonus. He did not need to know the year or the circumstances to know those things.
Hyacinth interrupted. “Brother, how can you not know where Lord Featherington is? Is that not something you should know?”
Eloise shrugged. “It is not like he can get far. He cannot walk.”
Violet shook her head at her daughters. “He is with Penelope, Colin, is he not?”
Colin frowned. “No, the only person with Penelope when I left her was—” Colin broke off. The only person who was with Penelope when he left was a baby, who Penelope had referred to as his son. A baby whose relationship to him meant that Colin should know of his location. A baby who could not walk. A baby who lived in a very fine suite of rooms in Featherington House. A baby whose existence would surely please his mother and make her smile lovingly. A baby whose name he did not know but whose name he was quickly coming to think must be something reminiscent of Eloise.
His family was looking at him with various looks of confusion and concern. Hyacinth tilted her head to the side. “Are you well, Brother? You have not seemed yourself since you arrived.”
He shook his head. “Forgive me. I do not quite feel like myself this morning.”
Eloise shrugged. “I am off, then. If you do wish to come and take my namesake for a bit, I would not mind some time with just Penelope. I know you adore him, Colin, but he is not particularly good company quite yet.”
Colin, having not known he had a son until quite recently, was offended despite himself that Eloise did not think his son good company. Of course he was good company. He was a baby. And Colin’s own child. He did not think such a creature could be anything other than wonderful. Scoffing, he said, “If you do not enjoy his company, El, perhaps the problem is not him.”
Eloise shook her head. “If you say so, Brother.” And then she left.
Colin excused himself soon afterwards and decided to start walking. His mind was too full to make any sense of what he was thinking and feeling. Part of him was simply terrified by the fact that it seemed as if he could not remember the last two years. He did not know if he was ill, or if it was something more outlandish, like time travel. There was a deeply simmering panic in his gut that wondered how this had happened and if it could be undone. Another part of him was simply curious about what had happened in the intervening time. He wanted to know how he ended up in this life, happily married to Penelope, having a son. He wanted to know how it came out that Penelope, Penelope of all people, was Lady Whistledown. He wanted to know how and why he had forgiven her enough to marry her. He wanted to know how they fell in love, or at least a close enough approximation of love to wed. It seemed unlikely in some ways. He had never thought of her as a woman to court or marry. They had known each other so long, so it seemed strange that their relationship would change so radically, but there was another small part of him that was not quite as surprised as maybe he should be. Marrying your dearest friend made a certain amount of sense; in fact, his mother had recommended it. He had not previously thought of Penelope in relation to his mother’s advice, but it was not outside the realm of possibility that a future version of him could have made the connection. That would explain a practical match, but every indication seemed to point to his future self being quite attached to Penelope, and that surprised him. Likewise, marrying Lady Whistledown made no sense. And this brought him to the third part of him that was livid. He was furious about what Penelope had done to Marina. Penelope was his friend and Marina’s cousin. Surely, Penelope could have told him instead of ruining Marina publicly. He did remember when Anthony had said that it was only because of Lady Whistledown that no one thought Marina’s child was his, but Colin believed there must have been another way.
Colin knew he had to tell Penelope something. She would certainly know something was different about him because he did not think he had the ability, or frankly the interest, to pretend as if nothing was wrong. He was not sure what to tell her. On one hand, she was one of his dearest friends. If you had asked him yesterday, or the day which he thought of as yesterday, who he would choose to confide in about something serious, she would have ranked highly and right alongside Daphne or Benedict. But now, he was not sure he could trust her. Because now, he knew that she had kept a huge and terrible secret from him. There was a bit of doubt there, though. Some version of him had chosen to marry her, presumably knowing she was Lady Whistledown. Some version of him was so attached to her that his family was stunned to see him without her by his side. Some version of him was comfortable enough with everything that Penelope handed him a copy of Whistledown without hesitation and asked his opinion on how she had dealt with a particular piece of gossip, assuming he would approve. Some version of him routinely and casually admired Penelope’s breasts, and him doing so made her giggle in a way that sounded amused and a little bit delighted and completely unsurprised. But he was not that version of Colin, and he did not know if he wanted to be.
With all these thoughts swirling in his head, Colin just walked for hours. Finally, he made it back to Featherington House. Varley opened the door with a smile as he approached and greeted him with a “Good to see you home, Mr. Bridgerton.” He grimaced and walked to the drawing room. Lady Featherington was holding the baby and looking for all the world like a tender and loving grandmother. Penelope was smiling and laughing with her mother in a way that he had never seen before. Colin took a moment to look at Penelope, since neither she nor her mother had yet noticed his presence. Penelope looked older, but like his own reflection in the mirror, not at all in a bad way. She held herself more confidently than he had ever seen before. Her hair was mostly down, cascading around her shoulders, and he had a bizarre desire to touch it, to twirl a curl around his finger, to feel if it was as soft as it looked. Her dress was a bluish green that he had never seen her wear before. The cut was also altered from what he had seen her in before. He supposed he had known that Penelope was a woman, and maybe he would have admitted it if asked, but he did not recall ever having noticed quite how alluring she was. Having seen one of her breasts just this morning was not aiding him to ignore this direction of his thoughts. A part of him thought it was almost a shame that he was so incredibly furious with her. He shook his head to clear his thoughts.
Penelope noticed him then. Smiling wider, she got up. She walked toward him, put her hands on the lapels of his jacket, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed his jaw. He flinched, pulled away, and removed her hands from his chest. The look on her face surprised him. He had expected the concern, hurt, and confusion. But there was something greater than those underlying it. Something that looked almost like terror. Something that led him to believe that him pushing her away was both her worst nightmare and not completely unprecedented. Clearing his throat, he said, “Penelope, may we talk privately?”