Colin Bridgerton Penelope Featherington นิยาย & เรื่องราว

She looked like a bride ready to walk down an aisle—only there was no church, no music, and no groom waiting. Andy looked up from his phone, frowning. “What’s the meaning of this?” Penelope turned, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile. “Meaning of what?” she asked, feigning innocence. “Why are you dressed like that?” he asked, eyes narrowing. “Like… a bride.” “Oh,” she said sweetly, smoothing the fabric down her hips. “Because I am a bride. Don’t you love my dress?” “Is this some kind of joke?”

The echo of Marcus’s door slamming still seemed to rattle through the halls, but elsewhere, footsteps clicked against polished stone. Penelope strode between Colin and Howard, her arms crossed tight against her chest, her lips twisted in a pout that was more theatrical than angry. “I still can’t believe it,” she huffed, her voice pitched loud enough to bounce off the walls. “Marcus. Marcus of all people—royal bloodline, second heir to Eldridge—and his fated mate is… her.” She threw her hands dramatically into the air. “A maid! A maid, Colin! Doesn’t this feel like we’re living in some sort of ridiculous telenovela?”

It created a splendid trance, exactly like that of Penelope and Colin from Bridgerton season 3, only that Hazel was Colin and I was Penelope, can you possibly imagine? " Would you stop this instant!" I said to myself; or so I thought, because by the time I looked up, everyone, even Dr Peter, was looking at me.

She had been busy plotting her next moves against the Bennetts and their new backup, the Sinclairs. Adrian Sinclair was a real thorn in Penelope’s side. He was a formidable enemy, one that she wished she had not made, but it was inevitable. Adrian was married to Alexandra, one of the people Penelope was after. And now, because of this, Penelope had to directly clash with Adrian.

She assumed that because she did not want to get married, that Penelope would also not want to get married. If she had paid attention, she would have noticed that it was not that Penelope did not want to get married, but she did not have any options or suitors. She was a wallflower not by choice. Eloise was a Bridgerton and according to society, pretty. Society did not classify Penelope as pretty, simply because she was chubby.

"I can't marry you when my heart belongs to someone else. It’s Penelope. It has always been Penelope." The silence that followed lasted exactly two seconds before the room erupted. It wasn’t a roar of anger; it was a wave of hushed, delighted gossiping. I could see the smirks behind expensive lace fans. I saw my stepmother, Victoria, leaning toward Penelope, her face a mask of fake concern while her eyes gleamed with triumph. Penelope leaned toward the nearest microphone, her voice trembling just enough to be heard by everyone. "Oh, Scarlett... I’m so sorry. I tried to tell him to stay with you. I tried to be the bigger person, but love... you can’t fight love."

I couldn’t contain the overwhelming mix of excitement, nervousness, and love that surged through me. I immediately wrapped my arms around her, feeling the familiar warmth and comfort of her embrace. Her arms tightened around me, as though trying to hold on to this fleeting moment, knowing how much it meant. “I can’t believe my precious Penelope is getting married,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. I could see the glisten of unshed tears in her eyes, and my own heart tightened. Fina, ever the playful one, rolled her eyes dramatically, covering her ears with a grin, but I could see the affection in her eyes as well.

Savannah and I had been deep in our own world—laughing over white lace sets and whispered advice about wedding nights—when her voice sliced through everything. Now the three of us stood in the narrow aisle between the bridal whites and the deeper, more sinful reds, the tension thick enough to taste. “Easy there,” Penelope said, her tone dripping with mock concern. She tilted her head, blonde hair falling in a perfect, glossy curtain over one shoulder, and pointed one manicured finger at my right hand. “I’m a lawyer. Can’t be seen engaging in brawls and catfights. So you might want to release that fist before someone gets the wrong idea.”

His scent isn’t present in this room like it is in ours, so it’s hard to feel comfortable without him present. A small part of me wants to go talk to Penelope, but I refrain. I don’t want to freak her out or somehow slip up and tell her something that she doesn’t need to know yet. On top of that, I know Donovan would be pissed at me for meddling in his newfound love life. I think about Penelope for a moment. She’s a beautiful girl. It’s not surprising that everyone thinks that she’s attractive. She reminds me of a princess with the way she looks and carries herself. She just seems so regal.

Sir Walter spurned the idea of its being offered in any manner; forbad the slightest hint being dropped of his having such an intention; and it was only on the supposition of his being spontaneously solicited by some most unexceptionable applicant, on his own terms, and as a great favour, that he would let it at all. How quick come the reasons for approving what we like! Lady Russell had another excellent one at hand, for being extremely glad that Sir Walter and his family were to remove from the country. Elizabeth had been lately forming an intimacy, which she wished to see interrupted. It was with the daughter of Mr Shepherd, who had returned, after an unprosperous marriage, to her father'