Heart at risk

20. risk something.

Colin paced the length of the dimly lit hallway, his footsteps echoing off the wooden floor, the anxiety tightening his chest with every step. Benedict walked beside him, silent but close, his presence steady, though it offered little comfort to Colin's racing thoughts. His mind was a storm, each swirl of guilt, fear, and helplessness crashing over him in waves. His hands were trembling at his sides, and every so often, he clenched them into fists, as if bracing against the surge of emotions he could no longer control.

He was muttering under his breath, fragments of thoughts spilling out as he paced.

'This is my fault,' Colin murmured. 'If I'd just insisted on staying home... I knew something was wrong, I knew it, and I still...' He stopped for a moment, running a shaky hand through his hair before starting again. 'We shouldn't have gone at all.'

Benedict, walking beside him, glanced over but said nothing, knowing there was little he could say to ease his brother's torment. Colin's guilt was a mountain he'd have to climb alone. Benedict could only hope to be there when Colin finally broke under the weight of it.

Colin's steps grew faster, his words more jumbled, harsher. 'I failed her. I was selfish, distracted... How could I have not seen it?' His voice cracked. 'She doesn't deserve this.'

Suddenly, the door at the end of the hallway opened, and the soft murmur of voices filled the air. Colin's heart sank as he looked up, seeing Penelope's mother, Lady Featherington, walking toward them, her face pale with worry. Behind her, his own mother, Lady Bridgerton, and Eloise followed closely, their expressions a mixture of concern and quiet determination.

As soon as Colin saw Lady Featherington, something inside him snapped. The grief and guilt that had been simmering suddenly gave way to a fiery surge of anger. His steps quickened, and before Benedict could stop him, he stormed toward her, his face twisted in a mix of rage and pain.

'Colin!' Benedict called out, but it was too late.

Lady Featherington's eyes widened as Colin approached her, his voice rising, sharp and furious.

'You insisted on that damned party!' Colin's voice was hoarse, trembling with fury. 'You knew she was on bed rest, but you made her come anyway! You forced her out of that house when she should have been resting!' His words cut through the hallway, echoing around them.

Lady Featherington froze, her face paling even more. Lady Bridgerton stepped forward, a hand raised as if to calm him, but Colin wasn't done.

'She's in there, fighting for her life, because of this—because of us!' He was shouting now, every word drenched in bitterness. 'All for some ridiculous social event that could have waited. You put her in danger, and I... I didn't stop it. I didn't—'

He stopped, his voice breaking under the weight of his own guilt. His chest was heaving as he stared at Penelope's mother, the woman who had once seemed so immovable, now shaken under his accusations. Tears burned in his eyes, but he held them back, unable to give in to anything other than the storm raging inside him.

Lady Bridgerton, with her face pale but her eyes steady, stepped between Colin and Lady Featherington, placing a gentle but firm hand on her son's arm. 'Colin, enough,' she said, her voice calm, but laced with deep concern. She could see the fury burning in her son, but she also saw the pain that was devouring him, piece by piece.

Colin pulled his arm away, his frustration still surging. 'Penelope should've been in bed, not dragged out to a party like some—'

'Colin,' Lady Bridgerton interrupted, stepping closer, her eyes locking onto his. 'I know you're angry. I know you're hurting. But this won't help her.' Her voice softened as she continued, concern for Penelope thick in her tone. 'Blame will get us nowhere, not now.'