This is terribly, terribly late. But its here finally. Took me just about a few months - no big deal. I apologize, too much happening in life and work lead to this delay. Hopefully you enjoy!

Colin let out a grunt and collapsed on the hard metal bench, leaning his head back and trying to get a solid breath in. He had changed his mind, Anthony was no longer bearable after his marriage - in fact, Colin was quite certain that the only person who could bear Anthony now was Kate. And only Kate. 

He wasn’t certain if the couple had a row or a spectacular round of bedsport because Anthony was currently displaying astounding levels of aggression in their fencing match. Simon had already admitted defeat ten minutes ago, claiming old age and something about children keeping him up and slinked away. Colin had, thankfully, lasted long, that was of course until Anthony brought up his failed attempts to get Penelope to talk to him as a way of unraveling him. 

And unravel him it did. 

Suddenly, his mood, which had been quite good since the morning; he’d had a fantastic supper, sung with Francesca and managed to irritate his mother - had turned sour. And he found himself not giving a jot about the match. 

“Why the scowl brother?” Benedict asked with a loud exhale as he deposited himself next to him, “Never known you to be a sore loser.” His gaze turned to the only Bridgerton currently energetic enough to take on Anthony. Gregory with his swift feet and youthful joints was doing a fantastic job of running their eldest brother ragged. 

At least that was a welcome sight. 

With a laugh, Benedict cheered Gregory on, “You’ve been gloomy for a while now Colin. Already itching to travel?” 

“No, I have no intention of leaving. Yet.” he said as Benedict’s brows rose high up, “I’m fine. Just a little out of sorts.” 

Two evenings ago, he had accidentally crashed into Penelope as she left their tea room and they’d had a genuine, true, warm conversation that made him think they could go back to their easy friendship. But of course, it was not to be. Perhaps the shock of crashing into him had temporarily made her forget she loathed him. Because last night, at the Hastings ball he had approached her once again to dance, with a spring in his step and hope in his chest. 

Only to be struck down again. She swallowed tightly, and once again said those horrid words, “It isn’t needed.” and left him hanging. He’d felt crushed and barely registered the pained look she gave him as she walked away. 

“Well, do I need to get you buggered to get it out of you?” Colin snapped out of his thoughts at that very feasible threat from Benedict and sighed. He turned to look at him intently, and then shrugged, thinking this was as good a time as any. “I do need some help, Anthony’s advice was sensible- for a change - but fairly useless.”

“Ah,” Benedict said cheerfully, “Does this have something to do with little Miss Featherington.” 

“How did you know?” Colin asked indignantly. 

“I have eyes. I used them. And, also a functioning brain. Which is more than I can say for you, brother.” 

Colin leaned back in the bench and let out a loud groan, leave it to Benedict to take the mickey out of him at even his lowest. 

Benedict laughed and muttered a soft sorry, thumping him on his arm and promising that he’d behave. “Honestly Colin. You didn’t think you could say something like that and the poor girl would continue to look at you like you hung the moon and stars. Even you can’t be that naive.” 

It took a whole minute for the worlds to register to Colin, and then he was suddenly springing up in his seat, whirling around to stare at his brother. 

“What did you say?” 

“What?” Benedict remarked, “I’m not trying to be mean, you can’t have possibly…” 

“No, no” Colin interrupted him, “You said - you can’t say something like that. Do you know what I said?” 

Benedict blinked at him. “Do you not know what you said?” 

“No! That’s the whole bloody problem isn’t it?”! Colin all but screamed causing Anthony to throw him a glare. “I know I have done something to earn her ire, but she refuses to tell me what.” 

Benedict simply looked at him wide-eyed and mildly shocked, quite visibly questioning his brother’s sanity as he opened and closed his mouth a few times. “Well,” he said, clearing his throat, “Do you remember the featherington ball closing of last season?” 

“Yes, of course.” 

“No,” Benedict pressed, “Do you remember all of it?” 

“Yes.”