Chapter Text
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April 1813 (season 1, episode 1)
Penelope Featherington trailed behind her sisters, cousin, and parents as they entered the Danbury ballroom. Her eyes darted everywhere, taking in the dizzying scene in front of her. Flowers festooned every surface, while the elite of society mingled in pastel dresses and dark suits. For years, she had dreamed of this exact moment, her first ball, day one of her future. The hopeful smile on her face was even brighter than the daffodil-colored dress she wore.
From this moment, she and the other young ladies of her family had two, maybe three, years to meet and marry a man before the petals would fall off the rose and they would be reduced to unwanted spinsters. They knew what was at stake, Lady Featherington was keenly aware of the danger, and all of them were determined to be successful.
Penelope’s mother, Portia Featherington, grabbed the hand of her oldest daughter and dragged her to the first unmarried man she found. “Lord Fife, allow me to introduce Miss Prudence Featherington. She paints, sings, and arranges flowers.”
The silence hung between them awkwardly, until the man realized the couple wouldn’t be retreating without getting what they wanted. “Miss Featherington, would you like to dance?”
Prudence looked back at her mother with a squeal before taking the man’s hand. “I would be honored, Lord Fife.”
Having launched one daughter into the marriage mart, Portia turned her attention to her middle child. “Lord Cho, this is Miss Phillipa Featherington. I think you will find her to be an affable companion.” The gentleman also relinquished and took the girl to the center of the room. Instead of paying attention to her other charges, Portia stood on the side to gossip with the other Mamas and watch her offspring dance, a proud smile on her face.
A gentleman also approached Penelope’s cousin, Marina, and swept her away to get refreshments, leaving the youngest Featherington waiting alone on the edge of the dance floor.
Penelope smiled as she watched her friend, Colin Bridgerton, swing a young woman in a dance, his energy just a touch too enthusiastic for polite society. They had known each other since they were children and their friendship was a caring and comfortable one. As he executed a turn, Colin caught his friend’s eye and smiled at her. Penelope felt herself glow with the warmth of his affection.
Someone bumped into her. “Oh, Penelope, I did not see you there,” Cressida Cowper sneered, obviously lying. Her entourage of mean girls giggled behind their gloved hands. Penelope ducked her head as she blushed, wishing she could melt into the floor. The debutantes fluttered off, as the embarrassed redhead moved towards the wall.
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Simon Basset entered the ballroom fashionably late, hoping the debutantes would be occupied with other gentlemen and leave him alone. Unfortunately, he had forgotten to factor his godmother into the calculations. “Lovely party, Lady Danbury,” he said as he bowed and kissed her hand.
“Do try to enjoy yourself, Simon.” Her face held a wicked grin as she yelled his title over the crowd. “I am so pleased that the Duke of Hastings has agreed to attend this evening. Perhaps you will find your bride tonight.” Like chum in shark-infested waters, the bait had its desired effect. Lady Danbury gave Simon a little push towards the matchmaking mamas and their daughters, who were circling him hungrily.
The women, young and old, began to flutter their eyelashes and fans, simper in airy voices, and crowd closer to him. Accomplishments were listed and introductions were given with such speed that Simon was sure he could not understand them if he attempted it. The debutantes waved their dance cards towards him, begging for the duke to chose just one of them.
He wondered how gentlemen like his friend, Anthony Bridgerton, managed this feeding frenzy year after year. Perhaps if he could find him, he could teach Simon the tricks of surviving the marriage market.
Simon looked around the room, trying to find an exit or a safe place to hide. Frantically, he began moving, hoping to find a respite. The more he did to escape the crowd of women, the more they did to get his attention.
The small mob of eager debutantes and their mamas forming behind him as he fled from them made Simon feel like hunted prey. He glanced over his shoulder to ascertain how well he had done at eluding them and felt his body collide with a smaller force. Instinctively, he grabbed for the other person, catching their arm momentarily to keep them from falling backwards.
“Oh,” the girl quietly gasped, blushing pink with humiliation. This was so much worse than the incident with Cressida just a moment before!
He turned his attention to the sound, the hounds of eligible women forgotten for a moment. Before him stood a tiny redhead in a garish yellow dress. He glared down at her from his impressive height.
“Excuse me, my lord,” she whispered, ducking her head from his withering glare.
“Quite a clever trap you have set,” he said derisively, hardly looking at her as he spoke. The creativity of the marriage-minded to force interactions with him was predictable and tiresome. “Truly, they will try anything.” He looked around, annoyed to see dozens of female eyes upon him.
“My lord? I do not know what you mean?” She wrung her hands nervously and her jaw trembled a bit, as if she might begin crying.
“Am I honestly to believe that you do not know who I am?” he snapped harshly, his face grim with disapproval and a touch of arrogance.
“We have not yet been introduced, my lord.”
“If you desired an introduction, I believe accosting me to be the least civilized of ways.”
Penelope felt her anger begin to rise. Normally, she was soft-spoken, but as the youngest in a family of strong women, she knew how to hold her ground as well. “Accosting you? You ran into me!”
He tightened his jaw, wondering how he was going to execrate himself from this situation, when he heard the familiar tap of his godmother’s cane on the floor near them.
“Good evening, Lady Danbury.” The girl’s voice sounded even more fearful as she stiffly curtsied to the intimidating hostess of the ball.
“And to you, Miss Featherington. May I introduce my godson, Lord Simon Basset, Duke of Hastings. Simon, this is Miss Penelope, the youngest of the Baron Featherington’s daughters.”
“Nice to meet you, Your Grace.” She curtsied, blushing again, as he bowed regally.
“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Featherington.” After introductions were made, an awkward silence settled between them, before Lady Danbury lightly struck Simon with her cane. Properly corrected for his poor manners, he asked, “Would you like to dance, Miss Featherington?”
“I, um-”
“It is a dance, girl, not a marriage proposal!” Lady Danbury said sharply, staring at the debutante expectantly. Few women in the entire kingdom had as much power as she did, and even fewer would dare to disobey her.
Chastised, Penelope remembered her years of training and handed the duke her dance card. “I would be honored, Your Grace.”
He signed his name to the next line and gave it back to her, holding out his hand to lead her to the dance floor. Several people had been watching their interaction, but now that they were moving to the center of the room, the frenzied whispers from the other guests got louder. Simon did his best to ignore them, focusing on positioning himself and his partner as the music started.
Penelope felt the eyes of the Ton on her, which distracted her from executing the steps of the waltz correctly. She stumbled a few times, glancing around at the crowd self-consciously. On one side of the room, she saw Cressida, frowning at her with jealous incredulity. Colin watched her with a puzzled expression, a biscuit suspended before his mouth. As Simon turned her slightly, she caught the eyes of Lady Bridgerton, who smiled at her encouragingly. She wished her other friend, Eloise, was there to support her, but she hadn’t debuted to society yet and was left at home.
“Do not look at them, Miss Featherington,” he ordered with a clipped voice. “Look at me.” He could feel the tension in her body as she worried about everyone’s opinions and hoped to focus her on something else.
For the first time since they bumped into each other, she looked up and met his eyes. “I'm sorry, Your Grace.”
Simon drew his eyebrows together, surprised by how young his dance partner looked. Her hair was arranged in tight curls, which combined with her height to make her appear like a doll. He suddenly felt very protective of her. Softening his voice, he encouraged her warmly, “Try to enjoy it.”
She gave him a tiny smile. “It is intimidating.”
“Is it worse than the presentation?” he asked, referring to the tradition of debutantes parading themselves before the queen as a way of introducing them to society. As a male without sisters, he had never attended one, but he had heard stories.
She giggled lightly. “Oh, no, Your Grace! Nothing is quite as scary as meeting Her Majesty. I thought I was going to faint with fright, but my sister stole that honor instead.”
He let out a puff of air, almost like a laugh, and gave a weak smile that died quickly. “Did you come out at the same time?”
“Yes, Your Grace. My mother had all three of us debut together this year.”
“How unusual.” He thought about asking her more questions, but restrained himself. After all, he wasn’t seeking a wife and didn’t want to give the girl any false hope of his interest.
When the music ended, she curtsied to him and thanked him for the dance. He bowed and offered his elbow as he led her off the dance floor and towards the Bridgertons. Seeing them approach, Colin bounded up to Penelope, grinning eagerly. “Pen! You danced beautifully!”
Standing next to the serious and aristocratic duke, Penelope felt a little embarrassed by her immature friend. “Thank you, Mr. Bridgerton,” she said warmly, but properly. They weren’t children anymore. Now that she had been presented to the queen, their relationship needed to change.
The use of his formal name seemed to shock Colin into realizing they were in a public setting with the eyes of society upon them. “Good evening, Miss Featherington.” He bowed, as he had been taught.
“This is Lord Basset-”
“I know who he is!” Colin interrupted, unable to hold the respectable facade for very long. “It is good to see you again, Simon.”
“Colin, you should address him as ‘Your Grace,’” a deep voice scolded from behind his brother.
“Bridgerton!” the duke exclaimed with a grin, sticking out his hand towards his friend.
Anthony shook his hand while enthusiastically announcing, “Hastings! Welcome back, Your Grace!”
Simon groaned. “You know I hate that name. Please, call me Simon.”
Colin could not miss out on being part of the conversation for long. “My brother and Lord Basset know each other from Eton and Oxford,” he explained to Penelope, who looked a little overwhelmed with all the male attention. They were all taller than her and she had to crane her neck to look up at them.
She looked beyond Lord Bridgerton to his sister, pleading with her eyes for rescue. The other girl walked around the circle to take Penelope’s arm. “You are doing well,” she whispered in her friend’s ear.
“Oh, Simon, do you remember my sister, Daphne?” Lord Bridgerton asked casually, throwing out the introduction so the men could get back to talking about their school days. “Daphne, may I introduce Lord Simon Basset, Duke of Hastings.” They greeted each other with the appropriate bows.
“Anthony, may I take Penelope to get some lemonade?” Daphne asked, deferring to him as her chaperone for the evening.
“Colin, watch your sister.” As the oldest brother and head of the household, Anthony was used to giving orders and having them be obeyed. He also realized how fortunate he was to have a small army of brothers to delegate tasks to should he ever desire a respite. Colin nodded and put out his arms to escort the women.
“Thank you for the dance, Your Grace.” Penelope smiled and curtsied, relieved to be done with the awkward socialization for the night. After a brief conversation with her friends, she could go back against the wall where she felt most comfortable and wait out the end of the ball.
“It was my pleasure, Miss Featherington.” The duke bowed to her stoically and watched the group of younger people wander off.
“Penelope- Miss Featherington- is very important to our family. I think of her as a sister.” Anthony’s tone was serious and held a bit of a warning as he addressed Simon.
The duke frowned, slightly confused by his friend’s tone. “She is sweet.”
“She is very young-” again with that same tone of warning “-younger than Daphne by a few years.” He thought about spelling out how protective he felt towards his siblings’ friend, but he assumed he had said enough to enlighten the duke of the facts.
Her age seemed obvious to Simon, and he didn’t understand what Anthony was so upset about tonight. “They seem like good friends.”
“My entire family loves her, especially my mother. She thinks of her as another daughter.”
Irritated, Simon asked, “What is your point, Bridgerton?”
With a sigh, he viscount declared harshly, “Penelope is innocent of your rakish ways, and I will not allow you to corrupt her.”
“I had no intention of corrupting her! She is a child!” He could not keep the disdain and horror from his voice.
“Exactly. And while we are talking about it, you can stay away from my sister as well.”
“Understood. I have no interest in them or any other dull-witted chit in this room. I will not marry.” He pronounced his last statement a bit loudly, causing those around him to turn towards him in shock.
Anthony looked at him incredulously, pretending to not be offended at his friend’s dismissal of his sister as vapid. “Are you truly not planning on taking your place in society when you have a dukedom?”
“I have a title, which as far as I am concerned will end with me.”
“Have you informed these vultures of your wishes?” Anthony gestured out towards the ballroom and all the hungry matchmaking mamas.
“I am sure word will get around soon, but what of you, Lord Bridgerton?” He emphasized the honorific pointedly. “You are the firstborn Bridgerton of a firstborn Bridgerton, nine times over. Where is your wife?”
“I still have time.”
“You have been a viscount for a decade, whereas I have only been a duke for a few weeks.”
“True, but I am in possession of something that you do not have- brothers. Built-in heirs.”
“You must marry eventually- sire your own heir.”
“We shall see,” he replied haughtily, changing the subject to something more interesting and less dangerous. The entire time they spoke, Lord Bridgerton never took his eyes off Daphne, staring down any man who tried to get close to her. It was a tough job to be such a vigilant watchdog, but he was not going to let his sister be compromised by an unworthy man, even if that man was his best friend.
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