An Exorcism in Mayfair

(1) Alone

Mayfair was only a mere hour away. Mr Colin Bridgerton was looking forward to getting home. More than anything though he was looking forward to seeing Pen.

It was strange that she had not send any correspondence while he was away. It was so unlike her. She was the one that always wrote. Not his own family, but Miss Penelope Featherington. His best friend.

He had helped her family after Lord Jack Featherington, the charlatan that he was. Stole money from a lot of influential gentleman of the ton. Colin dragged Pen into a private room to explain his deceit. Only to have him and Lady Featherington walk in. To which he threatened Jack Featherington to leave at once.

Colin had shared a dance with Pen after. It was comforting to hear that he was special to her, as she was to him. But then she disappeared into the night. Unsure why she had left, considering it was the Featherington ball. Colin thought it was a farewell to her cousin Jack that occupied her.

The next week he was due to leave. He was surprised when he looked up at Pens window and she wasn't looking back. Assuming it was Jacks fast departure, he paid it no heed.

He waited on Pens letters. Nothing arrived. Every day he would wait in anticipation. Nothing.

One day it dawned on him. Did she not care anymore, when he returned would he no longer have her friendly affection.

Colin decided that he needed to harden himself, become part of society when he returned. Be his own man. Perhaps then Pen would find him interesting once more.

Why hasn't she written. It has been weeks.

Colin had sent her 6 letters. More than he even sent to his family. Was something amiss. He carried her letters from his previous travels wherever he would go. Opening the letters up, wrapped in twine to reread them over and over. Her penmanship was excellent and he loved how she expressed herself.

Why has my Pen disappeared.

It was becoming clear that perhaps Pen did not need him anymore. What of him. He was certain he needed her still very much.

Colin's arrival in Paris he found himself finding sanctuary in inns and brothels.
The women in Paris were the most beautiful ladies he had ever seen in all his travels. The more he had clung to those brothels, the more he found himself changing into what Anthony always wanted. To be, who society wished of him. It was fun, the more deeper he changed, the more he felt he was able to mend things with Pen. For her to see him anew man. With more interests and experiences under his belt.

It was peculiar though, that in the view of such beautiful sights, he felt himself feeling rather lonely.

He found a charming place that had made to order designs and Colin required a great talent, to be sure. One that would, indeed, make him the envy of the gentleman in Mayfair.

Colin needed a waistcoat and coat white but with a creation of floral designs that had a Featherington influence.

He wanted small red quills to signify his and Pens friendship. Pen would notice something like that, to be sure. Pen always noticed little things like that. She had mentioned before how distinguished he looked.

Colin found most nights he would look to the heavens and wonder if he had even crossed Pens mind. Or had she forgot him altogether. Or found herself a new male friend to replace him. He shook those doubts away as madness.

She was always a great conservationist. Pen is witty and a wonder to be in the company of. He missed her letters. Without replies from his own family, Pen was a great source of information and joy.

He closed his eyes to imagine she was sitting on the coast of Viveiro in Spain, looking up at the stars with the sound of the crashing tide. Her eyes reflecting the bright blue as the moon hits the sea. Good god he missed her eyes. She always looked at him with such curiosity, like nothing could be as important as his next words. He missed her. A lot. More than he would possibly care to admit. Especially when it came to the judgemental eyes of the ton.

She had always been a large part of his life. She may not have been family, but the next best thing, certainly. Pen made him feel like he was more. For a moment she made him believe that was true. Now his mind was fighting with itself.

If he was 'more' in her eyes, then why in gods name had she not written. Am I not worthy of her attention anymore, worthy of her kind words.

He needed to stop.

Stop thinking about her for a damn moment and think.

There would be a reasonable excuse for Pen not writing. He just didn't know what it was. He just had to convince himself that all will be well when he returned home to civilisation.

Perhaps, she is busy. I did just threaten the new Lord Featherington to leave. What did I want a damn award. I left her and her family with no man to protect them. I left them unarmed in a man's world. What the hell was I thinking!!! Clearly I was thinking of myself and how saving Pen would make me a hero in her eyes. This wasn't about me. Such an important departure had happened to her family and all I can think about is myself! For heavens sake, Colin. Pull yourself together!!!

Was she ill. Perhaps that was why he had not heard anything. That would make more sense. She would not want to feel like a burden, sharing such things with her best friend.

That must be it. He had to convince himself of this truth or he would simply panic that she did not like him anymore. What horrors could he have done to warrant such disregard. Colin's mind was digging its own hole with conspiracies and it was giving him a hell
If a beastly headache.

She is unwell. That must be it.

It irritated him, how much he needed her to have a good opinion of him. Like he was a saint.

God, he felt alone.

Does my family even care that I am in a different country. Why have they not responded to my letters. Do I really mean that little to my own flesh and blood?

My god will my head ever stop thumping.