Chapter Text
May 1816:
“I have happy news to share,” Colin announced, his voice carrying across the sunlit garden.
Penelope’s chest tightened. Oh God, it’s happening. She could feel the impending fracture in her heart.
“I have asked Miss Marina Thompson to be my wife, and she has accepted.”
Her world shattered in an instant. She felt it splintering inside her — truly and utterly broken. But she would not fall apart. She would not crumble. She would not let the tears spill in front of them all.
They were outside, surrounded by the lush greenery of the estate, the scent of roses heavy in the warm afternoon air. His family, her family — all of them gathered under the serene blue sky. And in the midst of them, the man she loved stood proudly, proclaiming his engagement to her cousin.
Penelope stood rigid as the others flocked to the happy couple with joyful congratulations and warm smiles. Even Eloise, usually so indifferent to such matters, stepped forward to offer Marina a polite greeting.
If only they knew the truth.
Marina was with child. Another man’s child. She sought Colin only for his name and protection, fully intending to deceive him into believing the child was his own.
Penelope bit down on her trembling lip, forcing back the tears that threatened to spill. She would not let them see her pain.
“What an utter arse,” said a voice beside her.
Penelope turned with a start. The man beside her looked thoroughly dishevelled, his cravat slightly loosened, his copper hair– the very same shade of her own– in disarray. He was tall, broad shouldered, and quite unknown to her. Before she could question his business, he was already striding toward Colin and Marina with a purpose that made her blood run cold.
She watched, breathless as the stranger pushed past Eloise, Lord Bridgerton and Violet, seized Colin by the collar and punched him.
Gasps broke out across the garden.
Penelope's hand flew to her mouth.
“You absolute cad,” the man shouted, striking Colin again. “How dare you do this to my mother!”
Mr. Bridgerton and Lord Bridgerton seized the stranger and dragged him back before he could land another blow.
“Who the devil are you?” Colin roared, ready to lunge at him in turn.
Colin was the tallest man Penelope had ever known. This stranger stood taller, by no more than an inch.
“Colin!” Marina cried, clutching his arm as the stranger lunged forward once more. Even Lord Bridgerton and Mr. Benedict Bridgerton could hardly hold him back against his fury.
“I thought you loved Mother!” the man shouted, his eyes misty with tears. “I have been trapped in this strange land where you are not married to her! And instead, I see you openly courting other women–”
“Calm yourself, sir,” Lord Bridgerton commanded, straining to keep a tight grip on the man. He glanced round at the murmuring crowd, then turned a hard look on Colin. “Explain what the hell is going on,” he hissed.
“I do not know him!” Colin growled in anger, his lip bloodied as Violet and Marina held him back from retaliating.
“Whatever this grievance is, sir, let us handle it like civilised–”
The stranger wretched his arm free and turned his glare on Lord Bridgeerton, though something in his eyes faltered, as if the very sight of him were wrong somehow, familiar and unfamiliar at once. “Do not speak to me of civil, Uncle. You are in the same boat as him.” He jabbed a finger at Colin. “Keeping a mistress while married to Aunt Kate.”
“A mistress?” Anthony repeated, his voice dangerously low. “Uncle? Aunt Kate? Who on earth are you talking about?”
“Anthony, people are watching,” Violet whispered frantically, pulling at her son's arm.
Penelope pressed closer through the crowd to see the commotion, her eyes locking onto the stranger just as he turned. His gaze landed squarely on her. His eyes were a striking shade of cerulean blue.
“Mama,” he breathed, so softly she barely caught it.
Before anyone could speak, the heavy sound of approaching footsteps broke the tension as the authorities arrived.
“We were told there was some trouble going on here,” the officer said, tipping his hat. “Uh, Lord Bridgerton. Is everything alright?”
“I would like to press charges against this man,” Anthony said coldly, gesturing to the stranger. “He physically attacked my brother without any provocation.”
“You have no right,” the man countered, his eyes snapping right back to Penelope. “Mama, it's me.”
Penelope's breath hitched. She quickly looked behind her to see if he was addressing someone else, but there was no one there.
“Halt!” a booming voice called out.
The crowd parted as a young woman stepped forward, striding purposefully toward the centre of everyone. She shared the exact same hair colour as the strange man and dressed in a striking baby blue gown.
“Please release that man at once,” she commanded.
“And who might you be?” the officer inquired.
“Aggie, where on earth did you disappear to?!” the man cried out.
The young woman sighed, tossing her head back. “This man is my idiotic older brother. And he happens to be a Baron.”
Anthony moved forward, his brow furrowed in speculation. “A baron? From where, exactly?”
The young woman turned her gaze toward Penelope, pausing to frown. Then, a bright smile broke out across her face as she pointed directly at her.
“He is the grandson of her mother’s father’s brother’s cousin in law,” she replied triumphantly.
“Uh…huh?” Penelope said, confused and pointing at herself. “Me?”
The man rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh. “A brilliant explanation, Aggs. Truly meticulous.”
“Oh, do hold your tongue,” she shot back, tossing her head.
“What in heaven's name is going on here?” Colin commanded loudly, breaking through his shock and pointing an accusing finger at the stranger. He turned to the officers. “Why are you not arresting this man at once?”
The stranger completely ignored Colin's outburst. Instead, his gaze anchored itself back onto Penelope.
For her part, Penelope felt entirely adrift. Her mind was spinning from the sheer absurdity of the afternoon. One moment her heart was fracturing over the news of Colin’s engagement to Marina, and the next, a wild stranger was thrashing him on the ground for no discernable reason.
Not to mention the utterly impossible fact that the man had just called her Mama.
“Fath—uh, sir,” the young woman intervened quickly, offering Colin a sweet, disarming smile. “I must sincerely apologise for my brother’s disgraceful behaviour. We shall, of course, fully compensate you for the doctor's fee and any damage to your person.”
“I am certainly not apologising to—”
The man’s protest was cut short as his sister delivered a jab directly to his ribs. He doubled over slightly with a sharp gasp, his fierce demeanour instantly crumbling.
“Very well,” he muttered grudgingly, lowering his head. “My apologies.”
The officers looked between Anthony’s thunderous expression and the young woman’s dazzling, if entirely nonsensical, explanation. The chief rubbed the back of his neck, clearly reluctant to drag a peer of the realm—even a highly suspicious one—off to the gaol.
“My Lord?” the officer addressed Anthony tentatively. “If the lady is offering to settle the matter privately...”
“This is absurd,” Anthony snapped, his gaze shifting from the bruised Colin to the chaotic duo. “An unnamed Baron with a fabricated lineage assaults my brother on our own estate, and you expect us to accept a handful of sovereigns as an apology?”
“It is not a fabricated lineage!” Aggie protested, though her cheeks flushed a guilty pink. She stepped closer to her brother, lowering her voice to a whisper that Penelope could still distinctly hear. “I told you we needed a better cover story. You’ve ruined everything before we’ve even begun.”
“He is marrying her, Aggie,” the man growled back, his blue eyes flashing as he glared over his sister’s shoulder at Marina, who was still clinging desperately to Colin’s arm. “How was I supposed to stand by and watch it?”
“By using your head, you great brute!” she hissed, pinching his arm sharply enough to make him winced again.
Penelope, still frozen in place, felt the weight of the stranger’s gaze return to her. There was an ache in his eyes—a desperate, familiar sort of longing—that sent a shiver straight down her spine.
“If you are a Baron,” Colin said, stepping forward as Violet gently dabbed at his bloody lip with a lace handkerchief, “then you possess a title. State it. Who are you, and what am I meant to have done to your mother?”
The stranger opened his mouth to speak, but Aggie quickly stepped in front of him. “Our estate is... distant, Sir. Quite out of the way. And my brother is prone to terrible, tragic delusions when he has had too much sun. He mistook you for another cad entirely. A man from our village who... who resembles you greatly!”
“Out of the way?” Anthony echoed, stepping into the space between the strangers and his family, his protective instincts entirely taking over. “Sir, I demand you give your name immediately or the law will settle this, title or no title.”
The man stood at his full height, though his cravat was ruined and his copper hair was a wild mane, there was an undeniable nobility in the way he carried himself. He looked at Anthony, then at Colin, and finally settled his gaze once more on Penelope.
“My name is Elliot,” he replied, though a flicker of annoyance at his own tongue passed over his face. He dropped his aggressive edge, his voice falling into a quiet, heavy solemnity. “And I think, Lord Bridgerton, it would be best if we took this inside.”
Anthony’s eyes narrowed, his suspicion only deepening at the sudden stumble over a simple name. Yet, the heavy silence that followed Elliot’s words was undeniable. The surrounding guests were practically leaning over the rosebushes to catch every sordid detail, and the whispers were growing louder by the second.
“Very well,” Anthony said coldly, his jaw tight as he gestured toward the estate. “Inside. Officers, you will wait by the entrance. If I am not satisfied with this gentleman's explanations within the hour, you may take him into custody.”
“Thank you, Lord Bridgerton,” Aggie said quickly and offered a perfectly practiced, graceful curtsy.
As the small group began to move toward the house—Anthony leading the way, followed by a scowling Colin who was still being fussed over by Violet and a pale-faced Marina—Elliot lingered for a fraction of a second. His eyes caught Penelope’s once more. There was a desperate, silent plea in his gaze, a silent begging for her to follow them.
Penelope stood frozen as the crowd began to drift apart, their hushed, excited chatter filling the warm afternoon air. Her heart was beating frantically against her ribs. She looked down at her hands, which were trembling.
Elliot. She looked back up at the retreat of his broad shoulders, his messy hair catching the bright sunlight. He looked so entirely like a Featherington, yet he carried himself with the fierce, protective arrogance of a Bridgerton. It made no sense. None of it did.
“Pen?”
She jumped slightly, turning to see Eloise standing beside her, looking thoroughly bewildered and more intrigued than she had been all season.
“What in heaven's name was that?” Eloise whispered, staring after the group. “A mistress? Aunt Kate? Who even is Kate? And why would that man just attack Colin?”
“I... I have no idea,” Penelope lied, her voice barely a breath. But as she watched the library doors open to admit the party, a sudden, overwhelming wave of determination washed over her. She couldn't just stand in the garden. She needed to know the truth.
Turning to her friend, Penelope swallowed hard. “Eloise... we must find a way to listen.”