Chapter Text
The first heat Penelope ever had was excruciating. Throbbing cramps, high fevers and sweat breaking out on her skin. An ache between her thighs that couldn’t be relieved with any amount of rubbing against her pillow, the cloth saturated in her slick. Her fingers curling desperately against her skin, feeling hot all over, yearning for something but not quite understanding what she needed - she just knew it wouldn’t end until she got it.
The worst of it was when her mother constantly disturbed her cocoon of comfort, so incredibly surprised that one of her daughters had presented as an omega, needing constant assurance that it was indeed real. Penelope’s first heat was spent warring with her body, the constant clenching of the muscles between her thighs, the pooling of slick wherever she moved, and the incredibly irritating interruptions of her beta mother peeping into her room, as if observing a circus act.
After her first heat, she promised herself she wouldn’t put her body through that torment again. Presenting as an omega was something she was supposed to be proud of - it meant that she was desirable, attractive, that alphas would want to marry her - but there was only one alpha she ever desired, and he would never be hers.
She found suppressants almost immediately. Her father provided various tonics to her despite his wife’s assertions that Penelope should embrace her designation. Lord Featherington was not a perfect man by any means, but he was always there for Penelope when it counted, and so she loved her father.
As suspected, without her scent to entice alphas to her side, Penelope spent most of the social season on the sidelines of events. By the end of the season, she’d danced with only one alpha - Colin Bridgerton.
Though she fell for Colin’s charm and looks, his kindness and good heart kept her falling. It was devastating to watch him court her cousin, and when she laid in bed at night, she contemplated the use of her tonics, wondering if Colin would show even the slightest hint of interest if he caught a whiff of her scent.
In her imagination, he would realise that she was his true mate, compatible in every way. He would realise that his attraction to her cousin was fleeting in nature, tempted by the sweetened scent of her (unbeknownst to him) pregnancy pheromones, and he would declare his love for her most ardently, an impassioned speech in front of the ton.
In the cold light of day, she knew it would be all for naught. It would be humiliating to put herself through that unbearable agony of heats only for Colin to still see her as nothing but a close friend of his sister’s. She would rather spare herself the physical pain and heartache that would surely follow.
So while other debutante omegas were preoccupied with choosing spouses, Penelope occupied her time with Lady Whistledown. Her foray into writing yielded a modest sum. She developed acquaintances with the working class, negotiated better wages for delivery boys, and honed her talent into something worthy.
But her trips into the city also lifted the veil, for though the streets of Mayfair were dictated by propriety and etiquette, the city revealed a darkened, twisted version of reality. There were whole streets she was warned against visiting by her peers who worked in the printer’s, standing buildings that seemed inconspicuous, if poorly lit.
It was for her own safety, said the owner of the print shop, that she avoid traversing down those streets, where drunken and intoxicated alphas roamed and omegas were kept in perpetual heat for their pleasure. Penelope was horrified to learn that alphas paid a pretty penny to keep omegas of their choosing drugged up on stimulants each night, high on heat pheromones and desperately searching for relief that conveniently only an alpha’s knot could provide.
Throughout the season, Penelope learned more and more of the horrors that omegas in those establishments had to endure. She would gladly take her unbearable heats over being forced to submit to a different alpha each night for a price. She learnt that omegas with less experience would be sold for a higher number, that alphas preferred ladies who acquiesced and obeyed easily, that there was a certain expectation that was required of an omega who entered that trade.
Penelope felt grateful that she was born into high society, despite its flaws.
That was not to say that there weren’t moments she wished she could run away from it all. The part she played in the dissolution of Colin’s engagement to her cousin haunted her nightly. She tried to tell herself that it was a desperate situation, that she only had Colin’s best interests in mind - and though that may have been true, the ire her cousin had inspired in her through her cruel words and condescending remarks also played a larger part than she cared to admit.
Penelope did not feel the same kinship to her cousin, an omega she had known for barely three months, with the Bridgertons, a family she had known since young. They deserved the truth, and Colin did not deserve to raise pups that weren’t his - pups that would have been fourth in line to the Viscountcy, and yet possessed not a drop of Bridgerton blood.
And so her choice was made. She cried into the arms of her best friend for hours afterward. She knew she would spend the rest of her life pondering her choice.
But that was not the end of her suffering, for the Featherington’s participation in the social season was abruptly discontinued when Lord Featherington was killed. Penelope mourned his death, even as her mother moaned at all the mistakes he made. She was now alone in her own house, no one to fight her corner or support her decisions.
But their position in the ton was precarious. The heir to the Featherington estate could not be contacted, sequestered away in an unknown location in the Americas, and a magical parchment appeared - seemingly left behind by the late Lord Featherington, requesting that should his cousin predecease him, the title and estate would be left to the first son borne by any of his three daughters.
The matter of the estate was swiftly taken care of, but that did not solve a glaring problem in the Featherington household.
They were almost completely destitute.
Penelope’s meagre earnings from Lady Whistledown would not be enough to sustain them for more than a month or two at most. Her mother’s despaired cries rang in her ears and she felt helpless, eager to be of use. Lady Featherington’s repeated insistence that Penelope’s designation would be the only use made her heart burn in shame - if she had not been so adamant on taking suppressants, perhaps she would have married an alpha of average standing, and her family would not be forced to live on potatoes for every meal.
A dangerous, reckless idea began to form in her mind.
The season was almost over, the Duke and Duchess of Hasting’s ball the only event left. With the Featherington’s social standing as precarious as it was, Penelope’s mother suggested that they attend as a last-ditch effort to secure a husband, though they all knew it would be for naught. Not a single suitor had shown an interest in any of the girls, and that was unlikely to change at the last event of the season - but the three daughters found it futile to argue with their grieving mother, and so they went.
Penelope found solace in Eloise, who was also in attendance despite not having presented yet. She thought of her best friend’s boldness in asking her family how a pup came to be, and she hesitated as they lingered by the sidelines of the dance floor.
“You should not have come,” said Eloise gravely, sympathy in her features as she examined Penelope’s face. “Finding a husband should be the last thing on your mind.”
“I could not say no,” sighed Penelope. Her emotions tended to veer from day to day, but now she looked out onto the various couples dancing and felt no tug of envy that she was not asked to dance. She was quite content to stay just at the edge, invisible and unseen by everyone, a mere pillar. “Mama was quite insistent. There has been some… dire news.”
“What is it?” asked Eloise in concern.
“I do not wish to burden you,” said Penelope resolutely, shaking her head. “It is a matter of family and-”
“You are my family,” said Eloise emphatically. Her tone was fierce as she glared down at the redhead. “If it is a matter that concerns you, I wish to know - even if I cannot help.”
Penelope hesitated once more. “My father left us in hefty debt. I do not think we will be able to return for the next season.”
“What? No!” cried Eloise, gripping Penelope’s arm tightly. “No, I shall need you by my side to navigate this cesspit of boring alphas and simpering omegas, you cannot leave me!”
“I shall have no choice,” said Penelope sadly. “I have thought of something - but it is risky. I shall be ruined but my sisters would be able to continue participating, and my mother would have sufficient enough funds to last us for a few more seasons at least.”
“What is it?” asked Eloise curiously. “Is it dangerous? Oh!” she brightened, her eyes twinkling. “Can I join you?”
“Your brothers would have my head,” said Penelope, laughing at Eloise’s pout. “You have not presented yet. I do not think you will be able to partake.”
“You cannot ruin yourself for your family, Penelope,” said Eloise. “You deserve far better than that.”
But Penelope knew she did not.
Two months later
Brother,
I know you must be confused by the appearance of another letter so soon after my last, particularly as I have yet to receive an answer to it, but I write to you in desperation. I have pondered over seeking help from Anthony or Benedict, but the matter concerns the Featheringtons - Penelope in particular - and I fear that they might not understand the urgency of the situation.
During Daphne’s ball, Penelope confided in me that the late Lord Featherington had left a substantial mess of the family’s finances. Though it is not her responsibility, Penelope has taken it upon herself to help Lady Featherington out of the mess she finds herself in. She was vague, purposefully, I think now, about the manner in which she would secure more funds for her family.
I have recently discovered, quite by accident, how Penelope intends to earn. Through conversations with the maids, I have heard snippets of an auctioning of omegas in, what I have learnt from Benedict (who has sworn me to secrecy, but alas I must break it), one of the seedier establishments that Anthony frequents (no other details were given, but I have drawn my own conclusions). The maids whisper that the omega put up for auction next month is a short, redheaded, gently-bred lady from Mayfair, who approached the owner of the establishment as a last resort to earn more funds for her family.
Penelope has not answered any of my letters. Her butler refuses to let me in to see her. I am overcome with worry and concern, and I do not feel comfortable enough to suggest to Anthony that he be the one to purchase Penelope (a revolting sentiment that I wish I never had to write), if it is indeed her.
Please, make haste, Colin. Penelope has long regarded you a good friend, and I am aware that you must hold some friendly fondness for her as well. I worry what she must be going through to go to such desperate lengths. She is a far more dutiful daughter to her family than they deserve.
If you are unable to make it home by the night of the auction (12th of August, according to the maids), I shall be forced to divulge Penelope’s secrets to Anthony and Benedict, and I fervently wish not to humiliate her even further.
Please return soon,
Eloise
Colin’s alpha roared with fury as he read Eloise’s letter. Penelope, trussed up for auction like breeding cattle, in a room full of randy alphas who cared not for her safety or pleasure? Sweet Penelope, who deserved nothing but all the good the world had to offer?
The animal in him raged at the prospect. This must be why Penelope’s correspondence was delayed. Her letters had been a balm to his bruised soul, a reminder that his mistakes need not define him, an assurance that his need to travel was not a childish impulse but a worthy quest for his purpose. Each letter he received marked with her name made his alpha coo so strongly in delight, and he had been on the verge of asking if she would be amenable to a courtship when he returned just as her letters stopped arriving.
His skin prickled with heat and desperation, his animal fighting his body for control. His alpha screamed at him, imploring him to get on the nearest boat and row all the way back to London if he must.
The next three days were spent in a mad dash of packing, snapping at his poor valet and bribing the captain of a cargo ship to take him straight to the port of London. The twelfth of August was a mere nine days away - with any luck and with no causes for further delay in the journey, he should be due in London on the ninth, with plenty of time to shake some sense into Penelope.
But it seemed that luck was not on his side, for a day into his journey back to England, a long-brewing storm struck the ship, waves crashing on either side and spilling salty seawater all across the deck. The ship swayed dangerously from side to side, its passengers tossed like dolls in the hands of an overenthusiastic pup, hurling from one end of the ship to another. By the time the storm passed, they were four days off course.
Colin felt a distinct madness overcome him.
The thought that Penelope’s ruin was looming ever closer and he would not be able to stop her haunted his waking moments and kept him from sleep. He was prickly to everyone aboard the ship, least of all his poor, long-suffering valet, who apologised over and over to the other passengers as Colin snapped and growled and hissed at everybody.
Colin had not seen a more welcoming sight than that of London’s port at late afternoon on the twelfth of August.
It was simply a matter of hours before he found himself on the steps of Bridgerton House, finding Eloise pacing the steps in anxiety and agitation.
“Brother, thank God!” cried Eloise in relief as she caught sight of him. He hopped off his horse and greeted her with a small hug. “I was certain that I would have to beg Benedict to replace you and- oh, it does not matter. You are here now.”
“Penelope?” He could not help but ask, his eyebrow furrowed in worry.
“I have not spoken to her all week,” she said, folding her arms around herself in an act of comfort. She looked positively exhausted with worry as she peered past Colin at Featherington House. “The last time I saw her, I confronted her with what I told you - she confessed, but she would not speak of it. It is as we feared, Colin. She is ruining herself for her family, and they are too dimwitted to notice her sacrifice! I watched the servant’s entrance to Featherington House, Penelope was dressed in a blue cloak and she hailed a hack. She left not five minutes ago.”
Colin swallowed. He felt his alpha rear its head, growling as if ready to strike. His heart pounded almost painfully against his ribcage, every beat reminding him that he would lose Penelope forever if he did not act quickly.
“Eloise, you must tell Anthony,” he said, settling his hands on his little sister’s shoulders and speaking firmly. Eloise started shaking her head, frowning, but Colin explained, “He must know what might happen. If I am forced to bid for Penelope’s hand, he will have to ensure sufficient funds. Tell him what is to transpire with Penelope. Assure him that I will do my best to stop her from even entering the establishment, but if she is not persuaded then I will have no choice but to participate in the auction.”
“But-”
“There is no time, Eloise. Go!” he urged her, and Eloise dallied no further, turning on her heel immediately to disappear inside the house.
Colin approached the gates, surprised to see the Bridgerton carriage being readied by the road. The coachman bowed to him in greeting as Colin threw open the carriage door.
“Er- Master Bridgerton,” said the coachman tentatively as Colin climbed into his seat. “The carriage is meant for Lord Bridgerton’s use - he has asked for-”
“Oh yes, terribly sorry - there’s been a change of plans. Anthony has approved my use of the carriage this evening,” lied Colin, before informing the coachman of the street where Anthony’s favourite brothels were situated. “I must stress that it is an extremely pressing appointment, so please do make haste.”
“Of course, Master Bridgerton,” said the coachman, bowing once more.
The difference between riding a horse and riding in a carriage was stark. Without the distraction of tightening reins and guiding a large beast beneath him, Colin was left to ponder the horrible circumstances in which he found himself.
He was furious.
He was furious at the stupid storm for delaying his return. He was furious at the late Lord Featherington for leaving his family in such a desperate situation. He was furious at Penelope’s living family for failing to recognise the lengths she was going to ensure they were taken care of. He was furious at Penelope for even conceiving such a reckless idea, endangering herself in the process, just to support the family who has constantly overlooked her brilliance.
And most of all, he was furious at himself. For if he had courted Penelope as soon as she presented, if he’d realised what a beautiful gem she was sooner, if he were not blinded by a pretty face and even prettier words of falsehoods uttered by a fraudster, perhaps Penelope would not have felt that she had no other choice. Perhaps she would have waited, secure in the knowledge that their future union would be sufficient for the Featheringtons to survive in Mayfair.
He brushed the curtains aside, looking out the window of the carriage. He could not fight the visions of Penelope being claimed by another alpha. He could feel the animal in him howling in agony at the prospect of his omega being in danger. His alpha could not concentrate on anything but Penelope, and the farther the carriage traversed into the city, the more agitated his animal became, as the stench of London city assaulted his senses.
The concoction of foul odours from foul alphas and omegas alike was almost enough to make him gag. Never in his years had he smelt anything as awful as the city, akin to what he imagined sewers and drain pipes and wastelands smelt like. But one scent broke free from all the others - permeating powerfully through the sea of horrible stenches. It was the scent of sugar and honey, butter and cream. It was the most heavenly scent he’d ever smelt, cutting through the disgusting odours of the city.
And it grew stronger and stronger.
His alpha was revitalised.
Omega is here.
The moment the carriage stopped, Colin did not care to wait for the footman to assist with the steps. He jumped out, his sense of smell guiding him towards the delectable scent. It was the smell of an omega close to heat - but as he sniffed the air, his alpha roaring thunderously in his ears, he was hit with a sudden realisation that the scent was so utterly familiar.
It was the scent of Penelope’s letters.
It was no secret that Penelope had chosen to be on suppressants, and therefore her bouquet of scents were not perceptible to any alpha or omega. But during their correspondence, her letters held a mere whiff of delicious, rich, buttery goodness, and it stirred his alpha slightly, pushing him to realise how desirable he found Penelope.
But this was something else entirely. It transported him to the highest levels of paradise, his alpha perked and excited, his breeches tightening and his eyes turning black. Her scent was deeply concentrated, as though the months spent on suppressants had clogged her hormones and now she was spraying them everywhere, luring alphas from all over the city to the brothel for a chance to take her.
Like hell.
He growled to himself, spotting a hack outside an inconspicuous brothel, the stink of sex making his alpha wince. There were signs plastered all over the windows and doors, announcing a once-in-a-lifetime auction of a voluptuous virginal omega from Mayfair. The signs warned that bidding would start at no less than one thousand pounds, and Colin bit his lip.
That was more than what his grand tour cost - but he knew he would spend his entire inheritance on Penelope. There was no way he would let her be used and discarded by a libertine alpha who cared not for her pleasure or safety.
“Colin?”
Her voice was a squeak from behind him. He whirled around to see her.
Her eyes were wide with shock and fear, her lips slightly parted in a gasp. She held her coat shut, the material clenched in her little fist, while the other hand held a reticule that was much bigger than usual - possibly for the cash she would be receiving from her little deal.
“What on Earth are you doing here?” she asked, her eyes wide as saucers.
Colin clenched his fists. “I could ask the same of you, dear Penelope,” he retorted. He jerked his head towards the Bridgerton carriage. “In.”
She hesitated. “I must really-”
“Penelope,” he growled, his alpha voice booming from within him and causing her own eyes to darken as she took a step back from him. “Get in.” She scrambled to follow his command, blinking as she watched him climb in after her and settle on the seat opposite.
“I do not understand,” she said, as he fixed her with a steely glare. “You should be in Greece.”
“Eloise informed me of your plans a week ago. I had to return,” he said. “I had to stop you.”
Penelope lowered her head in shame. “You cannot stop me. I’ve made a deal with the madame of this establishment. She receives ten percent of my earnings - she is confident I will fetch a good price.”
“Pen, please,” he pleaded, reaching out to take her hand. The other remained tightly clenched around her coat, and he furrowed his eyebrow at her. “You cannot ruin yourself like this.”
“I have no choice,” she shook her head. “My family will starve through the next season. It is my fault - if I hadn’t been so insistent on suppressants perhaps I would be married by now, and my husband could take care of my family.”
“Then marry me,” he suggested, clutching her hand tighter. Her face went slack in surprise, her mouth dropping open. “I will take care of you. All of you. Please, do not go through with this.”
She tugged her hand back from him roughly, her lips pursed. “I do not need a saviour, Colin. I am not Marina,” she informed him sharply.
“No,” he agreed. “You have not fooled me. You have listened to me, cared for me - you have been a cherished friend and I- I cannot let you ruin yourself. I cannot lose you.”
His words made her eyes water and she looked away, swallowing slightly.
“I wish to court you,” he confessed softly. “My next letter, I was to ask if you were amenable to a courtship with me. But before I could send that letter, Eloise’s came. I rushed back. I have travelled through stormy seas to see you tonight.”
“Colin, please,” she breathed, her voice shaky and her cheeks red. She was on the verge of tears as she looked at him. “Please, don’t.”
Omega? His alpha cried loudly. Omega doesn’t want us?
“What?” he asked weakly.
“I have lied to you,” she whispered, looking down at his knees. “I have lied to everyone this past season. And I have hurt people. A lot of people. Some of them deserved it, but some of them didn’t.”
“What are you- what do you mean?” asked Colin. She refused to look at him, so he reached out and took her chin, forcing their eyes to meet. Her blue eyes shone at him like sparkling little stars, her red curls stark against her milky pale skin. “Penelope, what are you talking about?”
“I am Lady Whistledown,” she whispered.
He didn’t understand.
“What?” he asked.
“I am Lady Whistledown, Colin,” she repeated, eyes boring straight into his.
“You’re…” he trailed off, his brow furrowing as he leant back in his seat. He could not meet her gaze. “But you… Marina,” he swallowed, glancing at her. “You knew she was pregnant.”
“I tried to tell you,” she whispered, a tear trailing down her cheek. He could smell the regret in her scent, the guilt and torment that followed her decision. “But she interrupted us, she knew I didn’t approve of her plan to trap you. And I begged her, pleaded with her, over and over again, to choose anyone else - she refused. She wanted the Bridgerton connection.”
Colin swallowed thickly. “Of course she did.”
“You must believe me,” she cried, and she was in such clear despair. His alpha screamed at him to wrap her in his arms, to hold her tightly and whisper that all was as it should be, for he did not want to be trapped in a loveless marriage, but the reveal of her secret identity floored him, immobilised him in his seat. “She told me of your plans to elope. I could not stand the idea of you getting married without knowing the truth. I thought if you loved her, it wouldn’t matter - you would marry her anyway. But at least you knew. At least you and your family would not be lied to, and her children would not be legitimate heirs to the title and fortune.”
“I wish…” he trailed off, struggling to find words. “I wish none of this happened.”
She bowed her head in shame. “I’m sorry,” she sniffled. “But I want you to know the truth. You cannot court me. You cannot marry me. I ruined your betrothal. And though I know I had many justifiable reasons to do so, I cannot lie to you. I was selfish in Marina’s ruination.”
“How do you mean?” asked Colin.
He didn’t believe it. In everything he knew so far, Penelope was only trying to protect him. It sounded the opposite of selfishness to him.
“The night I wrote the article,” she started softly, speaking to her hands. “Marina said some cruel words to me. She was needlessly mean. I had spent the better part of a few months trying to help her, sneaking in her letters, talking to her when my family shunned her, attempting to be her friend. But as I begged her not to continue with the elopement, she turned almost villainous. Her words were harsh and they gave me a further push to write it. I thought, if she could treat a friend in such a way, what was to say that she would not treat you worse when you found out the truth?”
She looked up at him. “I was angry and bitter. She knew I loved you desperately. She told me that you would never see me as a mate, that I was akin to Hyacinth. You would never marry me. You would marry her, mate her, and we would be cousins by marriage while I remained a spinster because I could never-”
He cut her off, his lips pressed to hers in a heated kiss. At once, her scent bloomed under him, and he sighed in pleasure as he continued his thorough exploration of her mouth. His alpha chanted in his mind, she loves you, she loves you, she loves you, keep her, love her, need her.
“Marry me,” he whispered against her lips. “Please, God, Penelope, please marry me. I need to mate you, knot you so hard you feel dizzy with pleasure.”
“Col-” she struggled to answer as his lips captured hers over and over again, interrupting her. “I don’t- understand- why are you- please- court me?”
He shook his head, resting his forehead against hers. “I don’t want to court you. I want to marry you. I need to marry you.”
She looked up into his eyes. He trapped her, his arms on either side of her body and pinning her down into the seat. His eyes held a tiny hint of blue around a ring of dark black, and she felt that she was gazing into the eyes of her alpha.
“Why?” she asked breathlessly.
“You love me,” he whispered back. “Let me save you. You saved me-”
“I did not save you from that sham of a marriage just to enter another one with me!” she burst out, pushing him back with all her might, but he merely gazed down at her in wonder. “I am not a woman in need of saving, Colin. I am in need of ruination.”
Colin smiled, his teeth bared almost menacingly as he studied her face, his hot breath ghosting across her white skin, as pale as snow. Her eyelashes fluttered, her omega screaming loudly in her ears - the last of the suppressants were wearing off quickly. If he kept this up, there was no telling what she’d do.
“So, dear omega,” he crooned into her ear, licking over the shell of it and making her shiver. “Let me ruin you.”