Chapter Text
Penelope heard the familiar series of taps at her door, checked the charcuterie spread she’d arranged on the dining table, and turned toward the door. She took two steps in its direction before remembering the cup of tea she’d brewed, turned to grab it, then headed back to the door. Taking a deep breath and putting on her most welcoming smile, she grabbed the knob and opened the door, thrusting the mug toward the person on the other side with a bright, “Hello! Tea?”
A snort burst from Colin as he took the warm beverage from her. “Pen, that’s the most aggressive greeting I’ve ever seen. Can I come in?” he asked, gesturing to the inside of the flat with the hand now holding the mug she thought of as his.
“Oh, right, of course,” she said, stepping back and gesturing grandly at the tiny two-bedroom flat. “Please come in, and, as always, make yourself right at home. There are snacks on the table.”
He slipped his shoes off in the entryway and swept past her, headed toward the kitchen, stopping when the heavily-laden table came into view. “Pen,” he said, turning to face her, a look of incredulity on his face, “This is a bit more than a snack. This is a feast, even by my standards. What on earth is going on?”
She shrugged her shoulders quickly, her hands playing with the hem of her t-shirt. “I have a favor to ask you, and I wanted to make sure you were predisposed to accept.”
“Ah, yes, this very mysterious request that you cannot put into writing and must be requested in person. Well,” he set down his mug and grabbed a wedge of cheese from the board, holding it up in salute, “consider me both amenable and intrigued.” He popped the cheese in his mouth before grabbing one of the plates she’d laid out and loading it with food.
She moved closer, sliding into a chair across from him. “I wanted to ask if you could give me baking lessons. Or at least one. I just need to learn how to make caramel eclairs.”
“Baking lessons?” he repeated, still focused on the food in front of him. “Is that all? Surely that didn’t deserve all this fanfare.”
He sat down, too, shifting his focus from his plate to her face. She felt the telltale flush, a plague since birth, spread across her chest and up her neck. “I might have gone a bit overboard with the charcuterie.”
Colin laughed, flashing the clearest you think? look she’d ever witnessed. “It is very much appreciated, though, and your efforts will not go to waste—that I can assure you.” He paused to take a drink of his tea, now cooled enough to consume. “But what about all the secrecy? What’s so hush hush about baking?”
Her sigh was full-bodied. “Now that you can blame your sister for.”
A look of curiosity washed over his face. “Ah, Eloise. I am, in general, happy to blame Eloise for things, but I’m afraid I’m not quite putting the pieces together.”
“I don’t know if you know this, but Eloise has never met a secret or a mystery she didn’t try to unveil. For the last ten years she has foiled any and all birthday surprises I’ve tried to plan for her. And I am not having it this time. Which is why we could only talk in person in my own home when I know for sure she’s not around. Which also means,” she narrowed her gaze at him, all shyness abandoned, “that if somehow she does find out, I know exactly where to find the weakest link.”
He began to hold his hands up in surrender, paused to toss the olive he had pinched between his fingers into his mouth, then completed the gesture. He tucked the olive into his cheek, promising, “I would never betray you like that. It would actually be pretty satisfying to finally see someone manage to surprise her. You’re not the only one she’s terrorized.”
Penelope giggled at the sight of Colin stuff-cheeked as a chipmunk. He was, by all accounts, far too attractive for his own good. She nodded her acceptance of his pledge of loyalty, and he dropped his hands.
He leaned forward in his seat, shifting his weight to rest on his elbows and training his eyes on her with an intensity that had the flush creeping back up her throat.
“If you’re so concerned about secrecy, though, why didn’t you just watch a video tutorial or something? Why even add another link to your chain?”
“Oh, Colin. You might not know this about me, because I hide my secret shame away like a reasonable person, but my baking failures are epic. I have watched so many videos, followed so many recipes, but something in my brain just does not click. The only success I’ve ever had was once in uni when Eloise and I did an in-person class. So I really had no choice but to bring in someone else.”
He was still watching her intently, his hands wrapped loosely around the tepid tea and his half-laden plate abandoned. “And why, might I ask, is that person me?”
Penelope turned her attention to the slab of delicacies in front of her, using the time she was taking choosing what to eat to figure out how to respond. She was always a bit sensitive to the ways that their families and upbringings had differed.
“I mean, you’ve met my mum. Portia is not exactly the baking type, not prone to especially warm bonding-over-a-mixing-bowl moments, and she’s certainly not the secretive type, god help her. And as much as I love your mum, somehow I just know Eloise would find out if I were spending time with her all of a sudden. But I remembered her mentioning that, of all her children, you were the one who spent the most time in the kitchen with her. And I tried that Bakewell tart you made for Mother’s Day a few years ago—it was exquisite. You just…seemed like the right choice.”
What she didn’t say was that she also thought it would be a convenient excuse to spend a bit of time with him. Distinctly one-on-one time.
Although they’d known one another for nearly as long as she’d known Eloise—it was nearly impossible to not know all the Bridgertons once you’d gotten to know one of them—and she considered them good friends, most of their time together was spent in groups, with at least Eloise as a buffer between them. There weren’t very many opportunities for the two of them to do something without her, and Penelope was keen to make the most of this one.
She cut her eyes over to Colin, gauging his reaction. He had a soft smile on his face, one that made her blood trip in her veins.
“That was a really good tart, wasn’t it?” he asked, and Penelope could’ve laughed at her naivete. Of course he was smiling about the tart. “And I’m happy to be of assistance! Especially in return for this absolute labor of love you put together.”
He reached back to the assortment of treats, picking up a bagel chip and spreading brie and apricot jam on top. He popped the entire thing in his mouth and let out a rumble of satisfaction that Penelope felt in her toes.
“Oh, you need to try that,” he informed her as he made up another bagel chip. His hand stretched toward her, the proffered food held between his thumb and index finger.
For a wild moment, she considered leaning forward and taking the bite with her mouth, allowed herself to wonder what it would be like to brush her lips across his skin, how he might react. And then reason took back over, and she reached out her hand to accept the offering.
She bit the chip in half, closing her eyes and taking a beat to savor the combination of flavors and textures. When she opened her eyes, she met Colin’s expectant gaze.
“You’re right, it’s delicious. Just another reason you’re the right choice.”
A twinkle of delight illuminated his expression, and Penelope was the first to break their eye contact.
Colin cleared his throat, shifting the topic back to its original course. “Okay, so caramel eclairs, huh?”
She studied the scuff marks on the table in front of her. “We had them once at this really posh bakery when we were in Wales, and Eloise loved them, but somehow they’re really hard to find here. So I thought it would be an extra special surprise. Although if I manage to bake something from scratch, without her finding out what I’m intending to do, that might already knock her off her feet.” She chuckled lightly, putting the other half of the bagel chip in her mouth to cover over the self-consciousness she was sure was writ large across her face.
Defiant in the face of her resistance, Colin ducked his head and forced her to meet his eyes. “That’s really thoughtful, Pen. And you know what? Even if, somehow, she catches on to the surprise—not that I think that will happen,” he added hastily, “I’m just saying if. She’ll be really touched by your efforts.”
He smiled at her encouragingly, and she couldn’t help the answering smile that slid across her face. He was so kind sometimes that it left her a bit breathless.
“I won’t lie, though,” he went on, “caramel eclairs are going to be a feat of baking magic. Both choux dough and caramel are notoriously tricky and both are essential to the pastry. Are you sure you’re up for the challenge?” He raised an eyebrow in question.
Penelope breathed a deep breath in through her nose, as if preparing herself for battle. “Let’s do it.”