August, 1816

It was hardly his fault.

Anyone would be tempted.

It was just sitting there where anyone could come upon it.

And in a common area of the house -- the dining room, in fact, where people ate.

To have it sit there, uneaten, was really the greater crime.

These were the things Colin Bridgerton told himself as he stared at the pretty little box on his dining table.

He'd already opened and closed it. He knew what it contained.

It was an éclair, filled with cream and covered in caramel. Even if he hadn't seen it, he could smell it. Nobody crafted an éclair like Mrs. O'Hara. It had always been one of the best smells of his youth. She only made them for the fanciest parties.

He actually preferred the kind with chocolate on top, but he was not going to quibble as this one was here and the chocolate kind wasn't.

He stared at the box again, specifically the note peeking from underneath it.

Pen,

It will get easier, I promise.

I hope this helps.

All my love and support,

Kate

Just reading the words, he felt guilty for what he was considering. Obviously, this was some sort of special present from his sister-in-law to his wife. And she was obviously trying to help her through something hard... but with an éclair?

Surely, whatever Pen was going through -- and if she hadn't told him yet, she would soon enough -- he could give her much more help than some silly dessert ever could.

In fact, he actually did have some idea of what Pen was going through. And an éclair was very unlikely to help.

Pen had been very uninterested in food lately. She turned her nose up at everything and, when she didn't, she ended up sick. She surely didn't want something like this rich, creamy confection covered in caramel, powdered sugar, and a sweet little frosting rosette. Just looking at it might even worsen this stomach ailment of hers. Last night, when he'd offered her a piece of lemon cake, she'd said she no longer cared for cake and fled from the room.

And an hour ago, just before this sinful parcel had been delivered, he'd walked in the door and kissed her. She'd been quite enthusiastic about it... until he suggested lamb stew for supper, which was her favorite, and she'd actually stared at him as if he'd committed some crime before stumbling up the stairs.

Surely, he'd better get rid of this thing before it offended her sensibilities, too.

Or at least that was what he told himself as he took it in his hands...

******************

A half-hour later, his wife joined him in the library. "Pen! Feeling better?"

"Perhaps," she'd said, swinging her arms this way and that. "Or I will be soon. Kate's sending something over. Perhaps it's here already. I should ask Mrs. Gross if-"

"I'm certain she's busy with supper," Colin muttered, holding up his paper a little higher, guiltily rethinking his idea that she'd not welcome Kate's gift. "How is Kate these days? I haven't been to Bridgerton House all week."

"She's well. The two of us had a very nice talk today about... Well, about things."

Well, now he was intrigued, mostly because Penelope was pacing the room as if in a race from one end to the other. "What sort of things?" he asked warily.

"Just things, things that... that ladies think about. Dresses and... whatnot. You know, I'm certain it's come by now. Perhaps Dunwoody put it-"

"I know you wouldn't be this vague if it was about dresses," he said, feeling a bit better about hiding his crimes since she must have her own. She was hiding something. She had been for days. He'd even caught her and Eloise whispering in the front hall yesterday morning, quieting the minute he came down the stairs. He put his paper aside. "What are you hiding from me? Never tell me you're plucking Lady Whistledown out of retirement."

"What? Of course not. I'm quite content with my new writing ventures." She stiffened, wringing her hands now. "The novel is coming along nicely... Not this week, of course. I can hardly concentrate."

"Due to what? Is it just this stomach ailment of yours? I told you what to do for it. If anyone knows how to combat seasickness, I-"

"Yes, but I'm not at sea, am I?" She sighed wearily as she started away. "I think I hear Dunwoody. I'll see if-"

He stopped her at the doorway. "What good does an éclair even do when you cast up your accounts at every meal?"

"What? So it did come?" She gasped loudly. "And where is it?"

"I'd... rather not say."

She gaped at him in the silence that followed. "You ate it," she growled, poking him in the stomach. "Didn't you?"

"Very well, I did. But I refuse to be sorry about it," he said forcefully, deciding to brazen it out. "A person can't leave an éclair sitting about for too long and expect it not to be eaten!"

"But it was mine! Wasn't there a note or--"

"Very well, yes. There was some sort of... missive included from Kate."

"Which said it was for me!"

"I actually thought I was helping, if you must know. Since you've been so readily rejecting everything you eat, I assumed you would rather be rid of it."

"But this was supposed to change all that. That éclair, Colin, that was the only thing I even wanted to eat!" She gripped his lapels. "In weeks, it was the only thing I thought of without retching. That was to be the one thing this damnable babe would let me eat!"

"Then you should have told me. I'd have saved you half, at least, if... Babe?" HIs eyes widened. "Penelope!"

"Colin, don't... I mean, it's not for certain."

"But it must be! How did I miss it? I read that pamphlet and everything!" He frowned. "And why are you sick now? It's not even morning."

"Well, according to Kate, it's not only a morning sort of-"

"Why are you standing?" He tossed his paper off the couch and put her on it. "You are not moving for the next... God, I forget how many months. Is it six or twelve?"

"It's nine. And that pamphlet was a bunch of nonsense. Kate says the recommendations are barbaric. I do not need to purge or be bled with leeches or be in bed for the foreseeable future just because-"

"There!" He upended her and placed her feet up on the arm. "Is that better?"

"Colin!" She pushed at his hands. "I'd rather just sit up, if you don't mind."

"God, of course!" He quickly maneuvered her into a sitting position, but it didn't seem secure enough to him. "I'll get some cushions so you-"

"Please be still!" She pulled at his hand. "You'll actually make me seasick. I'm sure the babe doesn't like all this... jostling."

"You're right. I'm sorry. What kind of father am I?"

"The good kind," she smiled fondly, "if a bit silly."

"A bit selfish, you mean. Now I've gone and ate your éclair and starved our child!"

"Oh, Colin," she laughed. "I really should have told you. I just didn't know how to start. Really, I thought it might help if I could... well... not experience just one meal in reverse so I could think clearly on how to tell you--"

"And I took away your only hope to--"

"There will be other éclairs," she said in a soothing voice.

"Yes, dozens of them." He stood, gesturing widely. "I'll wake up Bridgerton House and demand they cook you a batch right now. I'll go to every bakery in town. I'll have you drowned in them!"

"I'd much rather you hold me for now." She stared up at him, looking quite adorably helpless.

"Well... I can certainly do that. Gladly." He dropped to the sofa and tucked her against him. "A child at last," he said with relish.

She scoffed. "It's not as if we've been trying for that long."

"Yes, but my efforts have been quite vigorous, so I truly expected this much sooner." Was it just today's news, or did she feel softer and more tempting than usual? "Say, Pen... Did Kate happen to mention... er... I mean, is there problem with... Can we still..."

"As much as we like," she said, with a knowing chuckle. "Apparently, I shall be quite ravenous for it."

"Is that so? Fascinating." He slid a hand down to her hip. The pamphlets hadn't said anything about that.

"Though I am sorry to say that is not the case right now."

He placed his hand much more innocently on her shoulder. "Oh, no. I wasn't suggesting it should be." Damn it!

"I just feel like a stranger in my own body. I can't eat, I can't sleep, all of my shoes feel like little vises, I hate every smell, and I can't seem to remember words. Yesterday, I had to use a series of gestures to communicate to Mrs. Gross that I needed more candles! It's horrid! And that's without me spending half my day bent over a chamberpot!"

"Oh, Pen! Do you think he... or she... will be unwell? With this sickness of yours, I worry."

"Kate says it won't last too long. I'm sorry for grousing so much. I shall be grateful, at the end. I'm sure our child will be healthy and kind and intelligent--"

"And despise most food?"

"Is that what you're worried about? Your child? Never."

"Just to be sure, I should try to tempt you, and that little one, with something new every day."

"And if most of it goes to waste?"

"That shall never happen as long as I'm around."

She tilted her head up, fixing him with a teasing glare. "As was made very clear by your actions today."

"Yes, it was badly done of me. But I'll have you know I've deprived myself of food, on several occasions, specifically for your sake. You might actually be the only thing in existence that's ever caused me to miss a meal."

"Wonder of wonders," she gasped. "How did I ever accomplish that?"

"Perhaps you tempt me even more," he said, tilting her head up further.

"That, I shall never believe."

"Doubt me all you want but you, Penelope Bridgerton, even well before that was your name, have always mattered most. There's you, then breathing, eating, sleeping, all that other nonsense one does between kissing one's wife," he said before doing just that. "It's a matter of priority."

The End

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There! An actual finished story, and from me, of all people!

I hope you enjoyed!