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I woke up early in the morning, and immediately rushed to Featherington's house. Apparently I was the earliest one to visit Penelope.

Her housemaid led me to the bench where Penelope was sitting. She sat amidst the vast, green garden, in a light sapphire muslin morning gown. She seemed surprised to see me visit.

I apologised for my absurdity the other year, and I assured her that I was no longer the person I had been.

"It has been vexing... watching you walk back into society with such ease," She hesitated.

There was something in the way she talked made me unsettled. Ease? Was it truly easy for me? Yes, it was not too hard to present to the ton the image of a gentleman, yet, it was not effortless at all to have someone could see past the image I tried to build up.

I sat down beside her and offered to help her secure a proposal. At first, Penelope rejected, saying she had no skills in ensnaring men's attention.

"Are we not friends?" I insisted on assisting her with charming lessons and raised my hand for a handshake.

"You want me to shake your hand?" She chuckled, and it sounded like something from heaven. She put her gloved hand in mine, I had no idea of her hands to be so small and soft, it felt good to hold her hands, Penelope's hands...

"Friends." Penelope held my hand and nodded slightly. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Her blue irises sparkled, or was it sunlight making the colour become so lively?

Not until now had I realised Penelope's eyes holding so much of blue and so much of purity. The way her orbs glistened in sunshine, the way they reflected my gaze that thoroughly under her curvy, thick eyelashes, also the way a seemingly hidden pain beneath the demure blossom on her lips pulled at something on the back of my mind. Her brunette reflected a soft glow of red from sundrops, it looked ethereal, as if she was some painted muse in an oil art piece of the Renaissance.

I released a breath I did not know I was holding. It appeared to me that our friendship was mended eventually. We made an appointment the following day so I could give Penelope the lessons I had promised. The day was supposed to pass by with my mood lightened by Penelope's forgiveness, yet, the beastly Lady Whistledown once again messed up our life after her messing up on Eloise's season.

We met the next morning during the promenade, Penelope wore a delicate gown with the matching green to her necklace. Her hair braided aside with a flower accessory.

"Are you certain you want my help after what Lady Whistledown wrote?" I asked as we walked deliberately under tree lines. Lady Whistledown nearly indicated me as a "rake" in her latest paper.

"She has never been more wrong about anyone. Let us pay her no heed." Penelope claimed firmly. I felt relieving. After all, Penelope still managed to see the person that I am, she was not swayed by people's words. Penelope knew me, she saw me for who I was.

The first lesson was her showing me what she had got in her sleeves, and naive Penelope was babbling in her tongue when I introduced her to few of the lords. However, I found it quite adorable, and I believed Penelope would be an excellent pupil. She was just so anxious that she could not find the words, but that would no longer bother her once I let her know the base of the flirting art that I have trained throughout my trip over seventeen cities.

When the next morning came, I found myself back at the brothel. My night was satiated, was it not? I found the feeling of skin against skin was essential, nevertheless, not enough... I could not quite put my finger on it. I kissed their lips and parted from their arms, I had an appointment with Penelope.

Heading to the market, the streets were hustling with ladies and pairs strolling back and forth. Penelope arrived with her maid Rae moments after I had. Her dress today gave me the feeling of a simplified wedding gown, the soft blue suited her so well, adorning her alabaster skin with a certain grace whilst the styled, flower-decorated hair framed her doll-like countenance perfectly. I could not help but staring at her in silence. Penelope has changed, or was it me who had not recognised her lush beauty?

I brought back our first met when I had fallen off the horse because Penelope's bonnet blown into my face. That was back at the time we first moved to live across the Featherington's house. I was riding horses with my brothers, until a wind blew up and a yellow bonnet blocked my sight. The moment I realised, I had already landed into a mud. Then, a little, confused figure dressed in citrus colour ran towards me, her blue eyes tingled with embarrassment and regret as she squealed around to check on my wounds (if I had any). I offered her a charming smile and stood up with mud all over my boots and breeches. And she smiled back at me, half relief, half taunting with a lift of her plum cheeks. That was how I met Penelope Featherington.

"You were so charming about that, teasing me. Mercilessly, in fact. And I think I know why," I said as we perused a stall of accessories.

Penelope's gaze met mine before she turned away, a little bit avoiding if I must say.

"Because we were children." I told her.

Everything was simple back then since we were children, we were not bound by society's expectations. I explained. Penelope seemed not to approve of my idea much since she believed that society was meant to give judgements on one another.

"Why is it you want a husband?" I walked behind her as we weaved through the market. She looked so small with her back against me.

"So that I may have freedom. So I may feel comfortable in the world." She replied, turning to saunter to another stall.

"What is one thing in the world that makes you feel most comfortable now? Most at ease?" I inquired, still strolling behind Penelope.

"It used to be Sunday teas at Bridgerton house. It was one of the few places I could go unchaperoned and truly be myself, but... That is no longer a possibility. " She said with an indelible regret written all over her face.

"What exactly happened?" I asked, for I had no idea of whatever had come between Eloise and Penelope.

She gazed upon me, and I knew she was not going to tell me. Penelope's eyes dashed towards her maid waiting afar, she leant up and whispered, "I should go back.", She muttered coyly, "Before we are noticed."

Then, she walked away from me and Rae followed suit. Abruptly I had a crazy idea: What if we really had been noticed? What would be so wrong with that? A smile unwittingly found its place on my lips until I became aware of it due to Rae's suspecting glance.

_________

The next day, I made a scene to keep Benedict, Gregory, and Hyacinth stay at the garden before I excused myself to see Penelope. I could tell she was shocked when I suggested we would have a lesson at the Bridgerton drawing room. But everything was taken care of, Eloise had already gone to the modiste with mother and Francesca.

Penelope's outfit once again dazzled me, I am so sure she was born to dress in blue and emerald colours. We agreed to imagine that the drawing room was a ball, with the young ladies here and the mamas there. We stood by a table with prepare lemonade, I told Penelope to practice on me as if I was a dashing suitor that she briefly met by refreshments.

"You?!" Penelope widened her beautiful eyes in question. Of course, me, why would she be so stunned? "That is why I will feel even more embarrassed. I know you, Colin!" She protested.

I sighed, I did not understand why she would feel embarrassed with me. Was I pushing her too much? Penelope read my face and mumbled. "Forgive me. It is only..." She trailed off and I raised my gaze to meet her, I always liked it when Penelope opened herself to me. "Deep inside, I know I can be clever and amusing, but..." Her face saddened. "Somehow my character gets lost between my heart and my mouth, and I find myself saying the wrong thing, or more likely, nothing at all." Penelope's eyes bore into mine as she spoke. Right now she was clever just as she had always been to me.

"Forget what is wrong or right," I told her. "Imagine what you would want to say to me if I were a suitor,"

She took a deep breath and gazed into my eyes, I could see my own reflecting upon hers.

"Your eyes..." Penelope spoke. "They are the most remarkable shade of blue," Her irises did not move, but instead, her pupils broadened and I felt like she was staring right into my very soul. My eyes? No, Penelope, it was your eyes that were the most remarkable blue shade, which left me to crave to dive into the ocean of your emotions whenever you gazed upon me. "Yet somehow, they shine even brighter... When you are kind..." Her consequent words pulled me back from my thoughts. Memory of my ashamed words twisted my stomach.

Her eyes were earnest, sentiments danced within the oceanic shade. I could have lost myself in that look not for her own startle.

"I would-I might say something like that if you were my suitor," Penelope elucidated with a forced chuckle.

But why did I wish that was really what she wanted to say whether I had been her suitor or not?

I took a sip of tea for my parched throat (not really parched yet my words were stuck) and stuttered out. "Well... That was... rather direct." I said, still unable to tear my gaze away.

Unexpectedly, my mother and sisters returned from the modiste. I quickly told Penelope to hide at my study room, and I went down to greet my mother. They were still so caught up in their ball stories that they did not go upstairs.

Grasping the chance, I checked on Penelope. When I swang open the door, I found her peeking on my personal journal. The written experiences that were not meant for others' eyes.

"Pen! Were you reading that?!" I closed the door with a creak.

Penelope began to sputter as she returned my journal to its original place on the desk. "No, I did not mean to!"

"You did not mean to pick up my journal and read it?" I repeated, feeling the heat spreading on my cheeks. My journal, I could not guarantee what Penelope would think after she had read it.

"No, I-I-I did but I should not have..." She stammered, remorse filled her eyes.

"No, you should not. Whatever you read was not meant for another's eyes!" I spoke with a higher, questioning tone, whilst I tried to restrain the bubbling anger within me. I reached over the desk to retrieve the journal, and my blind rage caused the candle light to fall off into shattered glasses on the wooden floor with a disdainful CRASH! The sight jostled Penelope and she immediately stepped back.

I pursed my lips, the temper was eating me out but I knew I should not inflict it on Penelope. Kneeling down, I picked up the broken pieces in haste then a sting feeling cut through my palm. What the devil!

"Damn!" I hissed loudly as blood beaded from wound.

"Colin, your hand--!" She gasped in shock, somewhat painfully.

"It is nothing." I reassured her, curling my fingers to cover the bleeding cut.

"It is not nothing! Stay there!" Penelope fumbled and she grabbed the white handkerchief left on the desk before maneuvering down in front of me. "Please...!" She pleaded, worry and sincerity tingled in her azure orbs as she signaled me to show her my palm.

I hesitated, but the agonizing need to check my wound in her eyes were obvious. Why were she hurt to see me in pain? I wondered, eventually opened my palm to her examining.

Penelope had already taken off her gloves since when I did not know, she considerately wrapped the handkerchief around my hand despite the tremor of her owns, our fingertips unintentionally brushed against each other.

Her skin was soft to the touch, her hand was small, her quiver was exquisite... I could not stop myself, my body reacted to her proximity before my brain could ever function. My bigger hand curled up, enveloping her smaller one and holding it loosely. The interaction was electrifying, time seemed to cease itself in that moment of flesh. Our eyes met, and nothing had ever felt so right until this simple embrace of the hands... Penelope's gaze held a kind of power which I could neither interprete nor help myself from shivering,

the kind of power that made you feel like you had become someone's entire world.

Seconds passed, I found myself awkward to face her eyes, my unwounded hand clumsily gripped its wounded twin.

"Your writing..." She said all of a sudden, her gaze still fixated on me. "It is very good," Penelope lowered her eyelids before gazing back at me.

What the devil was she talking about? Something boiled inside my stomach again, not anger (long lost since the softness of her hand in mine), something different I could not quite name. Embarrassment? Shame? I could never know.

I swallowed reluctantly. "Perhaps we should pause for the day..."

In an instant, her delicate, tiny hand slipped off mine, nearly simultaneous, and a strange emptiness found it way to gnaw at my fingers.

"Will I see you tonight?" I asked, acting nonchalant and watching her prepared to leave.

"Indeed... Thank you for the... um... lesson," Penelope fixed her voice, initially avoiding my gaze as she grabbed her things to flee. Lesson? We had not even truly started.

We bid farewells, nonverbally though, my eyes kept tracking her figure even as she had walked out of the door. I turned to my desk after minutes, the journal was in its opened state. The experience about Paris women which I scribbled danced before my eyes, the release, the letting-go, the runaway from the honourable name 'Bridgerton'...

I stared at the door where Penelope had disappeared as though she was yet to leave.

What did you think, Penelope? There was a fear emerging, what if Penelope would think of me as the rake whom Lady Whistledown had written about?