#anthony bridgerton fanfic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

atlabeth · 1 month

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(not so) simple pt 4 - anthony bridgerton

pt1 pt2 pt3

summary: coercing lord bridgerton into pretending to court you to avoid the affections of a baron is very simple — that is, until it isn’t.

a/n: SO. UM. once again this took fucking forever to come out which is kind of insane when you think about it because i've had 7000 words of this chapter written for like 4 months. truly wild. 2 babies have been born in the time that it's taken me to write this mini series but anyways there’s a lot happening here, shoutout to anthony for finally getting some more pov parts, the fun thing about your mc being out of commission for a while is that you have no choice but to write for the other characters. equality we love to see it. anyways most of it is angst, but it’ll all be wrapped up with a little regency romance bow i promise

wc: 7.6k

warning(s): aftermath of the end of last chapter which is angst. stab wound, talks of death, mentions of edmund's death, quite a bit of crying, anthony bridgerton's inner angst, miss worthing makes poor decisions. not a happy chapter but WHAT CAN YOU DO

“What were you thinking?” Violet demanded.

Anthony could barely hear his mother over the sound of the blood pounding in his ears, the pure terror gripping his heart. He’d no idea how to respond to her. He doubted she would like to hear that he, indeed, was very much not thinking.

And he was certainly not thinking much now, what with you on the brink of death with their doctor and his apprentice the only thing there to stop you. He could be of no help to you, bent half over in his chair, head in his hands, the image of you collapsing burned into his mind.

“Anthony Bridgerton, answer me.” Violet stood over him, her face flushed and eyes filled with anger and fear. “What were you thinking, bringing Miss Worthing out into the city?”

“I cannot deal with your questions right now, Mother!” he snapped, something letting loose inside of him. Anthony would have been ashamed had he any sense. “My future wife is in that room fighting for her life, and it is because I was not able to protect her. I am hardly able to form words at the moment, Mother, so please—” Anthony’s voice broke, and he ran a shaky hand through his hair. “Please just be quiet.”

It took a bit of nerve to be such an ass in front of his very own mother, but Anthony apparently had plenty of nerve at the moment. After you collapsed, he’d done the only thing he could think of in the moment and brought you back to Bridgerton House—it was closer than your residence, and if their physician had been able to keep his mother alive through eight pregnancies, then surely he could bring you back.

Now, though, he was not so sure. Every other option seemed to be plaguing his mind, for your blood still stained his hands and his clothing and Anthony didn’t know if he would ever be able to get it off.

His father died in his arms from something so small as a bee, and yet you had been stabbed. How were you meant to come back from that?

The door suddenly slammed open, and when Anthony glanced up, his insides twisted.

“Where is she?” Eloise demanded. Her windblown hair matched the wild look in her eyes, and the flush of her cheeks and haggard breathing told him everything. She was meant to be promenading with Penelope Featherington—her speed on foot was admirable.

“With our physician,” Violet responded. She seemed more subdued now, and though Anthony knew he would apologize profusely later, he could not find it in himself now. He could hardly find anything in himself apart from panic.

“With our physician—” She turned on Anthony, her gloved hands clenched into fists. “What in God’s name happened, Anthony?”

He allowed himself a moment to breathe before he responded. “She was stabbed.”

“Stabbed?” Eloise cried. “She was with you! How could she have been stabbed?”

“I was not with her when it happened—”

She scoffed. “That is a likely fucking story.”

“Eloise,” Violet said, “language.”

“I do not care about my language,” Eloise spat, gesturing wildly with her hands. “My best friend has been stabbed— I will say whatever I please!”

And then, as if to just add fuel to their fire, Benedict rushed in. Anthony held back a slightly unhinged laugh and shook his head. You were dying and they were out here arguing.

“I’ve made sure this hallway is off limits like you said, Mother.” Benedict looked just as shaken as the rest of them, and in a strange way Anthony was grateful. You’d grown closer to his family than he’d known. “Your lady’s maid is outside the door alongside a footman ensuring privacy, and your driver is on route to the Worthing residence to alert her parents. They’ve all been sworn to secrecy—no one will be disturbed, least of all Miss Worthing.”

“Thank you, Benedict.” Violet sighed, and she collapsed into an armchair. “At least one of us is in order.”

Benedict sat down on the sofa, his words coming out in a mumble. “I am hardly in order.”

The fire seemed to have died down in Eloise, for however temporary a time, and she settled down next to Benedict. She leaned her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around her.

“She’ll be okay,” Eloise whispered, “right?”

No one answered for a moment. At last, Anthony looked up, his hands clasped in front of him.

“Yes,” he rasped, hoping with everything in him that his words would be true. “She will be okay.”

He would not have been able to live with any other outcome, not when it was his fault in the first place that you were in this position.

Anthony didn’t know what he should have done, but he should have done something. He should have brought you to your senses and suggested a promenade in the park instead. He should have called on you at your estate, safe and sound in your drawing room. He should have been arm in arm with you, his heart steadily melting as you smiled and laughed and made him aware of all things good in the world.

He could not lose you. Not when he still had so much to tell you, so many words left unsaid.

Not when you didn’t know he loved you.

“I’m sorry, Anthony.” He looked up at the sound of Eloise’s voice—though she did not look at him and her arms were still crossed, the sincerity of it was not lost on him. “I know it was not your fault.”

His chest tightened. It was his fault.

“You clearly care about her,” she said. “It is not fair to pin this on you.”

“Sometimes we hurt the people we care about,” he said, his voice hollow.

“Sometimes,” she agreed. “But not this time.”

His eyes shimmered with unshed tears. Eloise had been at odds with him for nearly this entire season because of their ruse. Though she knew of its falsity, she still chastised him for taking up time that could have been spent with her, still rolled her eyes when he announced his leave to go see you, still questioned why he had to go after her best friend.

But Eloise was driven by her emotions, no matter how red hot or icy cold they may have been. At this moment, her concern for you outweighed anything, and she recognized the same in him.

So Anthony nodded. Once, twice, hardly moving but a clear acknowledgment. He glanced at his mother and brother, both unfocused with glassy eyes. His mother’s were red-rimmed, and she held a handkerchief tightly in one hand. The guilt hidden from earlier struck.

He silently thanked their governess for keeping Gregory and Hyacinth occupied, thanked that Francesca was on an outing of her own. The last thing he needed was for his littlest siblings to find out that the woman they believed to soon be their sister was one misstep away from death. And thank God for Colin’s decision to spend the day with Mondrich—one of his younger brothers in the heat of the moment was enough.

Anthony let out a shuddering sigh, screwing his eyes shut for a moment before he ran a hand through his hair then planted his palms on his knees. He could hardly sit still but he hadn’t the slightest idea of how to get his nervous energy out.

All he could think of was you. Of how the last word you spoke was his name. Of your dried blood on his hands, staining his clothing where he had held you. Anthony barely kept you from hitting the ground when you collapsed, and he nearly did the same once he reached his residence.

Yelling at any servant in the proximity to call for the physician, unaware of his mother trying to calm him until she shook him by the shoulders, having to literally be forced out of the room by the physician’s assistant once they arrived because he refused to leave your side.

It all felt like a blur, and yet he remembered it perfectly. It all played on repeat in his mind no matter how much he tried to block it out.

The door slammed open this time, and when Anthony looked up, he felt as if he could wither away.

“Where is my daughter?” Cecilia Worthing demanded, her husband trailing after her. She was all out of sorts, with an even wilder look in her eyes and a deathly grip on her skirts. Mr. Worthing’s expression made his heart sink, with his haunted eyes and taut lips.

“I am so sorry, Cecilia,” Violet rasped, and she crossed the room and enveloped her in her arms. It took a moment for your mother to respond, but she returned the hug as a sob escaped her.

“Your footman said she had been injured,” your father said levelly, though his voice shook ever so slightly. “How?”

“She was stabbed,” Anthony spoke up, forcing himself to look at your parents. “Some zealot in the city. I brought her here as quick as I could.”

“The city—” your father started.

“Stabbed?” your mother interrupted, halfway into hysterics. “How?”

“We got caught up in the midst of a riot,” he said quietly. “We were separated, and I assume it happened then.”

Mrs. Worthing let out another sob as she pulled her husband into her arms, and though he kept a semblance of solemnity as he whispered to his wife and held her close, Anthony could see the fear in his eyes.

How could he possibly offer reassurance? It felt different, staring at the desperation of your parents. The horrific realization that they might leave a family of two, might have to bury their only child.

His stomach twisted and Anthony’s head fell into his hands again. He couldn’t.

Eventually, Philip helped his wife onto the couch, and she remained curled into his side. No one said a word—how could they?

Apart from whispered reassurances between your parents and even shorter conversations between Benedict and Eloise, their saddened group continued in silence for the better part of an hour. No one spoke louder than a whisper, no one rose and left—they just sat together in their fear, hoping and praying that the inevitable could be denied.

Until the door creaked open and each of their heads snapped towards the noise. Anthony shot up at the first glimpse of their physician’s assistant.

“What news?” he asked immediately. The tension in the room had grown to be near palpably thick.

“The surgery went well,” the assistant said, and all the air dissipated from Anthony’s chest. “Miss Worthing lives. The doctor is ensuring a final few things, but provided our treatment is followed, we believe she will recover fully.”

Anthony fell back against the couch with a breathless laugh, and Mrs. Worthing sank against her husband, wrecked by thankful sobs. Eloise’s smile was enough to brighten the whole room, Benedict’s relief just as obvious. Violet just let out an exhausted sigh, her hand pressed to her heart.

“Thank you,” your father said. “Can we see her?”

“Miss Worthing is resting,” he said. “You will not be able to speak to—”

“We do not care,” your father asserted. “I need to see that my daughter is still alive.”

The physician’s assistant nodded after a moment, and the tension lessened in his shoulders. He helped your mother up, their hands clasped tightly together, and Mrs. Worthing looked at Anthony. You truly had your mother’s eyes.

“Will you come with us, my lord?” she asked.

“Oh, I—”

“You are family,” she said softly. “You’ve a right to join us.”

Emotion swelled in Anthony’s chest, and it took a moment for words to come to him.

“Of course,” he finally said, inclining his head. “And it is just Anthony between us. Please.”

The slightest smile spread across her lips as she nodded, and they all stood up together. Anthony took her offered arm and they started down the hallway together, your father on her other side.

How strange it was to be arm in arm with your mother. She thought the man beside her would be her future son-in-law, when he was truly nothing but a liar.

No, he thought, not wholly a liar. Not anymore. Because they believed that Anthony was to be your husband. And if there was anything this had proven to him, it was that he wanted nothing more than for it to be true.

Anthony just had to figure out a way to tell you. How strange that it would be the most difficult part of this ruse.

Violet’s maid and the footman stepped aside when they arrived and the assistant opened the door. Anthony followed your parents in, and his heart nearly stopped upon seeing you.

Your mother’s eyes filled with tears as she approached your bedside, and, after a nod from the doctor, brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear and laid the back of her hand against your forehead.

“She’s burning up,” she whispered.

“It is typical after surgery,” the doctor said. “With any luck, she will sweat it out. I will monitor her throughout.”

Your mother nodded, a shaky sigh escaping her, and she took your hand.

“I am so sorry, darling,” she whispered. “I am so sorry I was not there for you.” She brought your intertwined hands up and lightly kissed the back of your hand. “I love you more than anything. Please, come back to us soon.”

Your father joined her, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I do not know if you can hear us,” he said, voice slightly shaky, “but we are here for you. We will be here when you awaken, and every moment onwards.”

Mrs. Worthing looked back at Anthony, inclining her head towards you. Anthony swallowed his doubt as he moved forward, but the breath was stolen from him when he could fully see you.

Your eyes were closed. Your chest rose and fell just so, hardly noticeable, thin linens provided by the doctor rested over you, and sweat beaded on your brow. Alongside the discoloration of your skin, you looked…

You looked as if you were dead.

And Anthony knew that you were not—for God’s sake, you were breathing—but all he could think about, all he could see, was his father, all those years ago, dying in front of him while he could not do a single thing to stop it. And he felt that same helplessness with you; just standing there, watching, unable to do anything but hope.

“We are here for you,” he whispered. “...I am here for you. No matter what, I am here for you. Just know that, if nothing else.”

Your mother’s watery smile made him look to the doctor for fear of the same emotions eliciting even further in him.

“When will she wake?” Anthony asked. His voice sounded almost foreign to him.

“In a few hours, with any luck,” the doctor said. “At the very most, it will be the end of the day.”

“We will gladly host her until she is able enough,” Anthony said, looking at your parents. “And we have plenty of spare rooms for you to choose from if you wish to remain by her side during those days.”

“Thank you, Anthony.” Your mother placed her hands on his shoulders, though she had to look up at him, and she smiled. “You make her so happy. It will be my greatest pleasure to officially welcome you into our family.”

Anthony’s throat bobbed. God above, he hoped that was the truth.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “She… she means a great deal to me.”

“You’re a good man, Bridgerton,” your father said. “I’m thankful my daughter will end up with someone like you.”

“Your approval means the world,” he said, and he found he meant it wholly.

The doctor cleared his throat. “It would be best for her visitors to be limited as of now. The parents can stay, but…”

Anthony nodded, smoothing his lapels. “Of course.”

“We will alert you of anything,” your mother said. Anthony nodded again, and he allowed himself one more moment to look at you before he left.

You were alright. You would be alright. That was all that mattered.

Still, when he found himself alone in the hallway, finally able to breathe again, he still had that weight on his shoulders.

A revelation such as the one he’d had should have been a blessing, a relief. A man in love was meant to be a happy one. But a man in love did not usually find his feelings in the midst of season-long ruse whilst his beloved fought on her deathbed.

Anthony blew out a loose sigh, shaking his head as he continued through the halls. Being on his own, he found, was worse than sitting in silence with his family. He was trying to think of something to say, trying to gather his emotions and push them aside so he could be the man of the house as he was meant to be, but when he reached the room from before he was only met with Eloise.

She looked up from the floor, and he noticed the puffiness of her eyes, her slightly blotchy skin. His heart sank yet again.

“Benedict helped Mother to bed,” she explained, her throat bobbing. “All of this exhausted her. I’ve no idea where he is now.”

Anthony nodded, his mind still wandering. “Ah.”

“How is she?” Eloise asked, her brows knit in concern.

“As well as she can be.” Anthony sighed. “She has a fever, but she’s resting. Her parents are with her and the doctor is watching over her. He said she should awaken before the end of the day.”

The furrow softened as she smiled. It was good to see her smile. “Good. That— that’s good. I’m glad.”

“And how are you, Eloise?” Anthony asked, folding his arms.

“As well as I can be,” she responded wryly. Anthony’s lips twitched in a momentary smile, but she leaned against the couch and let out a sigh of her own. “This all certainly ended in the best way it could have.”

“The best way would have been for it to have never happened,” he said. “I should have prevented it—I was meant to keep her safe.”

“Brother,” she said wearily, “I already told you that you cannot blame yourself.”

“And I’ve never been one for listening to you,” he said dryly, “have I?”

Eloise huffed a laugh and shook her head. “I am not a fool, Anthony. I know what is happening between you two.”

Anthony frowned. “Eloise—”

“You love her,” she said bluntly. “Do you not?”

He tried to say something, but no words would follow. He could only stare at his sister and her nerve, resulting in a small smile from her.

“You are not that talented an actor, brother,” she said. “It is easier for me to believe the two of you are truly in love than that you could actually trick me in such a way.”

He blinked. “You believe she loves me?”

Eloise laughed, turning her head slightly. “I do,” she said. “And seeing as you are not denying it, I believe that means you love her.”

Anthony bit the inside of his cheek. So the two of you could fool the entirety of the ton for over half the season, but apparently not Eloise. How typical.

He walked over and took a seat on the couch next to his sister, leaving a bit of space between them. He took a deep breath before he spoke.

“I do.” He glanced at her. “I love her.”

Saying it aloud—admitting the truth of feelings he’d been fighting for so long—brought him an unexpected lightness. One other person knew both truths: that they had been lying about their love, and that Anthony had been lying about his lies.

It would have been laughable had he not been so unsure of everything else.

It took Eloise a moment to say anything back. For a while, she merely looked at him, unreadable depths in her eyes. He didn’t think he would ever be able to fully decipher his sister.

“I know my blessing means very little in the scheme of things,” she finally said. “But know that if this does come into fruition… I will support you two. Every step of the way.”

The smile that spread across Anthony’s lips was brighter than anything he’d experienced today, and he inclined his head. “Truly?”

“Yes, truly,” Eloise said, a smile of her own growing though she tried to hide it as she glanced away. “It is not a big deal. Do not make it out to be one. There are far worse men that she could end up with.”

“Alright,” he said, unabashed in his joy. For such a solemn day, Eloise had turned his mood around.

“And I will also keep your secret,” she said breezily, “again, so do not worry about that.”

“You say it does not mean much,” Anthony said, “but you are wrong. Your support means more to me than you know.”

She shifted, seemingly bolstered ever so slightly by his praise. “...I’m glad.”

He smiled as he stood back up, smoothing out the wrinkles in his outfit. Anthony grimaced as his hands came into view. He was in dire need of a bath and some new clothes. He could not deal with your blood on him for much longer.

“I must be going,” Anthony said. “I need to clean up. And,” he sighed, “ensure that none of this has spread to the rest of the ton.”

Eloise hummed, and Anthony was nearly at the door when she spoke up again.

“...Thank you. For being here for me.”

His expression softened as he glanced back at her. “I will always be here for you.”

Her lips curved just so. Anthony had never been so thankful to no longer be at odds with one of his siblings.

Your head hurt.

That was the first thing you could truly understand as your eyes slowly cracked open, squinting while you came to. You blinked a multitude of times, trying to regain your bearings and relieve the dryness of your eyes.

It took another moment for them to adjust to the darkness—the curtains were closed, but no light filtered through. How long had you been asleep?

You grimaced as you shifted ever so slightly, a dull but constant ache in your chest leaving you stiff, but there was a weight of a hand in yours. You glanced over and recognized your mother, asleep but still grasping your hand.

You smiled. She came for you after all.

But as you tried to shift further in the bed, you groaned, a sharp column of pain shooting through you. Your mother’s eyes shot open, her body starting from instinct, but it took a moment for her to truly realize it all.

“Nice of you to wake up,” you said wryly.

“You—” tears sprung in her eyes, and her lips spread in a grateful grin— “You must be alright if your first words are to antagonize your mother.”

“I am still here,” you said. You didn’t want to tell her you didn’t think you would make it. That you thought your fate was sealed when you pulled your hand away to nothing but blood.

“That you are,” she said breathily. “Are you alright, though? How do you feel? Does it hurt?”

“I believe I am alright,” you responded, “I feel… tired. And my chest aches.”

“The doctor said that would be expected,” she murmured. “What do you remember?”

“...That depends,” you said. “What do you know?”

Your mother gave you a look as she said your full name. “This is not the time for games.”

Your cheeks heated and you averted your eyes. “I was in the city with Anthony. I was stabbed after a riot broke out. That is all I remember.”

“Lord Bridgerton is the reason you are alive,” your mother said. “He brought you back to Bridgerton House, and their doctor saved your life.”

Somehow it was possible for your face to burn even more. You dragged Anthony out to that meeting, and you repaid him by making him drag your near lifeless body all the way back to his estate.

You were the worst fake fiancee a man could have.

You felt your eyes begin to fill with tears and you rapidly blinked them away.

“Where is he?” you asked quietly. “Where is Anth— Lord Bridgerton?”

Your mother gave you a knowing look. “It is alright to call him by his name, darling. It is quite clear how much he cares for you.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. You could not do this. “Where is he?”

“He is with his family,” she said. “You caused everyone quite a fright.”

“I can imagine,” you said hollowly.

“Would you like to see him?” she asked. “Because I am sure he—”

“No.” The haste with which you sat up drew out another wince. “No— I…”

You closed your eyes, biting down on the inside of your lip. You could not do this.

Your mother said your name softly. “What is it?”

You opened your eyes, ignoring the wetness around them as you looked at her. “Anthony and I cannot marry.”

She blinked. It looked as if it took a moment for your words to sink in. “What?”

“We cannot marry,” you repeated. “We— we never could marry. Our courtship is a ruse.”

Your mother blinked again, this time wholly taken aback. “What?”

“It is a ruse,” you repeated, more forcefully. “I wanted to escape the baron, and Anthony wanted to escape a thousand desperate debutantes. I proposed a mock courtship between us, and he accepted.”

Her brows furrowed deeper than ever before, as if she still couldn’t fully believe it. “You lied to me.”

“To everyone,” you said. You hadn’t a clue what had gotten into you, tearing apart a story carefully crafted throughout nearly the entire season, but something burned inside of you. You couldn’t keep going with this—you couldn’t keep stringing Anthony along, not when your feelings were far more real than they had any right to be.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “Why would you do such a thing?”

“Because I did not want to marry,” you repeated. “The baron is nothing more than a lecher, and the thought of any sort of marriage to him disgusted me, but you and Father refused to listen to me. The only way to get out of it was for you to believe I had caught the affections of someone better. Anthony Bridgerton’s word was certainly better than mine in the eyes of the ton.”

Your mother stared at the floor for much longer than you anticipated, and you could not tear your eyes away from her.

“Mother,” you said quietly, “say something. Please.”

“I do not quite know what to say.” She finally looked at you, and your throat bobbed. “All of our plans have hinged on this marriage for the entirety of the season. What am I to tell your father?”

“Do not tell him,” you begged. “Please. It is enough that you know— I could not handle the shame if he were to as well.”

“I do not keep secrets as well as you,” your mother snapped. “Marrying into the Bridgerton family would have saved us, both in riches and name. Even your dowry would have gone to use for something of your choosing.” She shook her head, clasping her hands together. “And now you have almost died and we will have to control this and I just—”

“I will marry Lord Cardew,” you interrupted.

That ceased her arguments quite quickly. “What?”

“I will marry Lord Cardew,” you repeated. “He has both riches and name.”

Your mother frowned as she gripped your hands tighter. “You despise him. You got yourself into this entire mess in order to avoid him—you’ve said so yourself.”

“What choice do I have?” you asked desperately. “His name is enough to weather the scandal I’ve created. His money will secure a life for you and Father, and he has a fine pedigree. It is the only way to save the Worthing name.”

“Have you not considered the very man who has been courting you this season?” Your mother gestured with her hand. “Look where you are, darling! Lord Bridgerton has offered up his estate to us so we can be near you as you heal. Your courtship may have started as a ruse, but the man clearly feels something for you!”

“We have become very good friends over the course of the season,” you said, “and I am thankful for it. But I cannot taint the Bridgerton name further.”

“Dearest—”

“It is necessary,” you interrupted, but your quick movement brought on a sharp thread of pain in your chest and you winced.

“Do not push yourself,” your mother whispered, and you nodded.

“It is necessary,” you repeated, though slower. “My rebellion was just… naivete. I will not be the reason for our family’s ruin borne from my own stubbornness. I will secure our legacy, I will secure my future—I will marry Lord Cardew, and… and I will finally stop trying to resist my fate.”

Your mother stared at you, and you stared back. “You said it yourself—our family’s well being hinges on my marrying into wealth. What sane man would consider me after what I’ve done?”

She continued to look at you long and hard, her expression one of unreadable depths. “You are sure?”

No, you wanted to say. You had never been less sure of anything in your life. But you could see no other choice. So you nodded.

Your mother glanced away from you with a sigh, eyes searching the room for a moment before she nodded as well. “...Alright. If that is what you wish, your father and I will contact him once you are recovered.”

“Mother—”

“That is non-negotiable,” she said, and she smiled at you. “You may be blossoming into a true lady, but you are still my daughter. And I will not allow my daughter to do anything until she is fully healed.”

You nodded. “Alright.”

“I am sure that it goes without saying that you are never going to be allowed out of our sight until you are married and settled?” your mother said, and though it caused a sharp pain in your chest, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“I assumed just as much, Mother.”

Dearest Reader,

It is a fact well known throughout Mayfair that the social season requires the full attention of every single person, frantic mamas and bored bachelors alike. It is a game of wits unlike any other, and this season has proven no different. The middle of our merriment marks many of the most eligible debutantes as engaged — this author pays special attention to the season’s diamond, Lady Adelaida Kennington, who has found her happy ending with the young Earl Pembroke.

Though congratulations may be due to another lady of the ton, one of the simple yet highly discussed Worthing family — as it seems, Miss Worthing has tossed aside the much desired Viscount Bridgerton for the hand of the Baron Jonathan Cardew. One can only be left to wonder what Lord Bridgerton must have done to go from an obviously incoming proposal back to his rakish ways in little more than a night, but it most certainly has to do with Miss Worthing’s recent disappearance from society. Word has passed around of her frequent visits to the lesser parts of London, engaging in activity that can only be described as scandalous. Perhaps it was not the fault of the viscount indeed—Miss Worthing may have finally pushed Lord Bridgerton to his limits.

No matter the reason for the ending of the courtship, this author must extend her thanks to the pairing for providing such material for my pen. It is not every day a nobody in the ton manages to bring down two families at once. Perhaps Miss Worthing deserves congratulations for conducting this fantastical feat all on her own. If it was outrage she was searching for, she has certainly earned it.

Yours Truly,

Lady Whistledown

You huffed a sigh and threw the leaflet across the room, letting your head fall back against the wooden headboard. It was one thing for Lady Whistledown to criticize you, it was another thing entirely for her to bring your family and the Bridgertons into it. You deserved everything that came towards you for what you had done, but your parents, the Bridgertons, Anthony— they were not a part of any of it.

Especially when all your father had done was visit the Cardew estate to have a conversation with the man, see if he was open to the possibility of a marriage with you. Nothing was at all set in stone, but the way Whistledown told it, you were already steps from the chapel with a ring on your finger.

So now, as if it weren’t enough that you were bed bound until your physician deemed you recovered for regular activity, as if it weren’t enough that you were likely set to be married by the end of the season, as if it weren’t enough that you were constantly denying Anthony’s requests to visit you, every single one of your idiotic mistakes was revealed to the ton through a woman too cowardly to write without a pseudonym.

If you ever found Lady Whistledown, you thought bitterly, you would strangle her.

The silence in your room was broken by the door opening, and when you looked up you were greeted with Julia’s face. The usual smile she bore when around you was not there, but before you could ask she answered your unspoken question.

“I apologise for the interruption, my lady, but you have a visitor. He insisted on seeing you.”

A small part of you knew who it was even before she stepped aside, but when Anthony Bridgerton walked into your room your breath still hitched the tiniest bit.

“What are you doing here?” you asked immediately, holding back a grimace as you pushed yourself into a sitting position.

“I had to see you,” Anthony said.

“And you chose to do so by invading my privacy.”

“I have not heard a single word directly from you nor your pen since the accident,” he said, his voice not without a slight barb. But underneath it all, an uncommon hurt festered inside of him. You could not see it, exactly, but you could sense it. “Forgive me for wanting to confirm with my own eyes that you were still alive.”

“I will remain here as a chaperone,” Julia said, closing the door behind her. “You may talk as freely as you please — I will not repeat a single word.” Anthony nodded and pulled the stool away from the vanity so he could be closer to you, then sat down.

Despite Julia’s reassurance, neither of you spoke a word. The silence began to weigh heavily, the tension growing so thick it could be cut with a knife. For so long you had been rejecting Anthony’s requested meetings, not wanting to see him after what you had done. You feared for how he would react, both to your complete ignorance of him after your nearly fatal injury and your acceptance of Lord Cardew’s courtship.

You left Bridgerton House without a word mere hours after your ill-fated decision despite the protests of your parents—you could not stay there for another moment under Anthony’s good graces, not when you had doomed any possible future with him. You did not deserve a single millimeter of Bridgerton good will.

You stared down at the covers you laid under, fidgeting with your hands in your lap as you focused on everything except your visitor. You could not bring yourself to meet Anthony’s gaze, though you’d felt his own on you for the past five minutes.

“Is it true?”

You finally looked up at his sudden question, meeting the intensity of those dark brown eyes you’d lost yourself in so many times. “Is what true?”

“Your marriage to Jonathan Cardew,” he said stiffly. “Is it true?”

Just as quickly, you glanced away. It was near impossible to even be in the same room as the viscount since you had made the decision, even more so to think of the reason why it was that way. So instead, you just nodded.

“Yes. If all works out, we are to be wed at the end of the season.”

“Why?” Anthony leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees as his hands clenched into loose fists. “You openly despise the man—you asked me to court you to avoid him. Why in the name of all things rational would you willingly enter a marriage with him?”

“He will provide for me,” you said. “He has money, he has land, and he is a respectable member of society. He has already been content with the possibility of marriage once, and his name is enough to weather the scandal I have created. It is the smartest choice available.”

“And what of us?” He had an almost wild look in his eyes, and the worst desire took root in you to root your fingers in his hair and ease the troubles you’d caused him. “We have spent the near entirety of the season becoming closer, and you are willing to just throw it all away for a man like Cardew?”

“I could not trap you in a marriage you do not want,” you insisted. “You deserve more than a woman you share no love for, Anthony, and to be married to the woman who made a fool of your entire family. Lord Cardew is the only option.”

“Even if all of that is true, that does not mean it is a smart choice!” he exclaimed. “He is not a safe man to be around! If he has been pursuing you so strongly and only backed off because of my influence, what do you think will happen when you are his legal wife with no sort of protection?”

You swallowed thickly at his words. “He is not that sort of man, Anthony. He may be… horrid, and a complete egoist, but it will be a life of comfort. And that is the life that I need.”

Anthony laughed breathlessly, completely devoid of mirth as he frowned. “You cannot be serious. I have been by your side for an entire season of feminist rants and marriage complaints, half of which revolved around Cardew himself, and now you are telling me that you are just— just alright with this sort of compliance?”

“Nearly dying because of my own idiotic choices has forced me to reexamine my life,” you said plainly. “If I had been even the slightest bit unlucky, I would have perished on those streets, and what would I have had to show for myself? A rebellion that I was only able to take part in because of the privilege I so often fought against?”

“You have made a difference,” Anthony insisted. “You provided for women that no one has the gall to look out for. You’ve spoken out for your own rights, you’ve stood up for your own interests rather than sit around and take what you have been given.”

“I have been fighting against a life that so many less fortunate than myself would kill for,” you said. “I believed death to be a better fate than being forced to marry a man I did not love, but when I was on death’s door, I realized how foolish I was— how utterly selfish.”

“You are not selfish,” Anthony said, but you shook your head.

“I am. Unbelievably so.” You huffed a mirthless laugh as you looked at him. “My parents did not love each other when they married, but they were friends. They could tolerate the other’s presence, and neither of them were fortunate enough to be able to care about anything else. They have grown to love each other in their own way, of course, and they are in a better situation now, but they could not have known it would turn out that way. They did what they had to for the sake of their families and themselves, and it is time I do the same.”

“Love matches are rare,” you murmured. “And even if I were granted the opportunity… I would not deserve it.”

Anthony shook his head. “Do not say that.”

“It is the truth,” you said, letting out yet another humorless laugh. “I have been horrible to my mother when all she has ever wanted is a better life for me than she had. I have fought her for every step of the way for no other reason than my hubris and the dim belief that I deserved different than everyone else simply because I wanted it, no matter what the greater good was. How can that not be selfish, Anthony?”

“You do not have to do this,” he insisted. “You said you dreamed of unmarried life! You told me your fantasies of escaping from society, of living on your own and depending on no one but yourself. You are willing to give all of that up, just like that?”

“I was a fool for ever doing so!” you exclaimed. “Anthony, this world is hard enough on its own for married women — what do you think will become of my family if I do not marry? What do you think will become of me?”

“But you are strong.” Anthony leaned forward, his brow knit in determination. “You are strong, and intelligent, and fully capable of managing on your own. Spinster brand be damned, if it is what you wish, you will flourish completely!”

“Will I?” you questioned, and you gestured at yourself. “I am bound to this room of my own doing because I refused to see the truth of the world around me. I was young and naive to believe I could achieve anything of the sort I dreamed of without consequences, and I will be naive no longer.”

“If you insist on marrying, at least find somebody else,” Anthony begged. “You will be miserable for the rest of your life if you marry Jonathan Cardew.”

“I cannot afford to marry for love, my lord,” you said simply, “and even if I could find a man who loved me, I could never love them back. I would not force anyone into a marriage they did not want, not when…” You trailed off, the words catching in your throat.

You shook your head, choking them down. “It is not important.”

“Please do not marry him,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, “I beg of you.”

“Then who should I marry?” you asked, almost brazenly. “Who should I marry, if not him? I am certainly not one for options.”

You did not know what you wanted Anthony to say. To marry him? That he felt the same for you as you did for him? That, while you were indeed a fool for falling for him, he was one as well. That he would not leave you, not now, nor ever.

But instead he just stared at you with those dark brown eyes that even now could make you melt, a million emotions brewing inside of them yet none of them being given an outlet.

“I do not know,” he murmured, and your heart sank. “But I beg of you, do not let it be him.”

“It is not your decision to make,” you said quietly. “Soon I will be engaged to Lord Cardew, and I will be out of your life.”

There was an underlying desperation in Anthony’s eyes as he looked at you now, that storm of emotions thundering inside of him begging to be expressed. “I do not want you out of my life.”

The words felt like poison leaving your lips. “You do not have a choice.”

Before Anthony could protest any further, you stood up and looked over at your lady’s maid. “Please escort Lord Bridgerton outside. I wish to be alone.”

“My lady, are you—”

“Julia,” you said, your voice strained, “please.”

She nodded and she gestured for Anthony towards the door, but he did not move a centimeter.

Anthony said your name with such pain that you could not even stand to look at him, the inside of your lip drawn so tightly between your teeth that you could taste blood all in the effort to prevent tears from emerging.

“Do not make this harder than it has to be,” you whispered. “I beg of you, Anthony.”

“Lord Bridgerton,” Julia said quietly, “please obey my lady’s wishes.”

He stared at you with desperation before he finally nodded and walked out the door, Julia closing it behind him.

You screwed your eyes shut as you dug the heels of your palms into your forehead, letting out a frustrated sob as your hands dropped back down. The pinpricks of tears were already starting, and while you were thankful you were alone, you already longed for Anthony’s presence.

You wished, more than ever, that things could be how they used to be. You wished you’d never even made this ridiculous deal with him—then you would not be in such pain, yearning for a man you could never have while the reputation of you and your family was destroyed and your life fell to pieces around you. You could not do a single thing about it, and you could not blame a single soul for it other than yourself.

You’d never felt so useless.

taglist, only bc this series has been going on since i still had a taglist lmao. pls dont ask to be added because i do not do tag lists anymore!! follow me or rb the masterlist or something idk @ifilwtmfc @readers-post @fangirling-galore @funkydinosaurs @baby-i-am-fireproof @mess-is-my-aesthetic @likeballet @mdkfh @brezzybfan @magical-spit @lafy-taffy @miss-celestial-being @mercurysrhapsody @evilsailorsenshi @mainstreambitchlife @aangsupremacy @chloepluto1306 @lostaudfound @panhoeofmanyfandoms @blhemmings @my-acrylic-heart @seninjakitey @vlodi @arianagrandes-things @preciousbabypeter @youraliendaddo @stupidlittlebei @illuminwtesz @eringaitskill @otheliesstuff @users09 @chloepluto1306 @lady-loki-barnes-djarin @m-rae23 @the-horror-and-the-wild-simp @diemdurantia @theyoungestchild0w0 @mschievousx @alwaysreading1019 @ibelieveindragons141 @pretzywetzy

#this is so soap opera of me #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton fic #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fic #anthony bridgerton fanfic #x reader #bridgerton imagine #sadie writes

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mayfieldss · 6 days

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Messy - Anthony Bridgerton

Synopsis: What was supposed to go as a smooth business meeting ends rather the opposite, thanks to Anthony's great distraction; you.

Content Warnings: written at 1am and not proofread. Proceed at your own risk.

Anthony was trying his best to be a gentleman. He prided himself on just that, after all, and would be mortified to be seen as anything else. That is why, when things got particularly disastrous, Anthony could not stop the apologies spilling from his lips.

The day had begun simple enough. The sky was the perfect shade of blue, matching the theme of the Bridgerton household without fail, and the sun peeked through thin clouds enough to cast its warmth in a comfortable manner. Your family had been set to meet with the Bridgerton's at noon, a business deal that would hopefully provide wealth and further status to both families alike. And when you'd arrived, carriage and horses pulling to a stop on the gravel, nothing had been amiss. In fact, everyone involved had been more than confident in the speed at which the deal could be made. There was much to discuss, yes, but without interruption, time would pass quickly, and you'd be home before you knew it. And yet, that wasn't the way things occurred.

Anthony takes the blame himself, for if he had kept focused perhaps nothing would have gone awry. But when his eyes landed on you, stepping down from the carriage with the help of your older brother's hand, he was stuck. It was as though his gaze was caught on you, like a thread hooked upon a nail, and he couldn't cut himself loose.

"Lord Bridgerton," your greeting was lost, as were everyone else's as his ears roared with shame. He was flustered, it seemed, and you had done nothing yet to cause it.

He sent you a smile, welcomed you, and your family, to the estate, trying wholeheartedly to snap himself from this trance. And for a while he thought to have succeeded.

Inside his home, everyone sat in the living room, and across from Anthony sat your oldest brother, in the place of your father who Anthony could only assume would not be joining you. Perhaps the man had passed like his own parent, or maybe some other reason was behind it. But Anthony had no troubles with a man closer to his age, and he was more than ready to converse in the gentlemanly manner he had trained himself to default to. You sat near Anthony's mother, discussing the rose gardens and other rather lady-like things, but there was something about your posture that told Anthony you could not care less about the flowers outside the large windows.

You held a pleasing smile, and to any passer by you might appear interested in such a topic, but to Anthony you were anything but convincing. Your eyes were distant from the conversation, and your hands were occupied fiddling with the folds of your dress. You were nodding along, with nothing much to say other than compliments toward his mothers gardeners. He was an actor himself at times, in fact this business deal required an almost theatre like performance to sell, and he could see his own tactics as well as some his siblings strategies coming through in you.

"Lord Bridgerton," This time, his title did not come from you, but rather your brother, whom Anthony had been unknowingly ignoring in favour of examining your actions.

Anthony clears his throat, and he can feel the heat rising up his neck underneath his collar. "Yes, sorry, go on." He doesn't have a clue what the man before him had been saying previously, and even as the conversation continues he is hardly listening. He's scolding himself internally, trying to keep it together.

He's able to hold focus on the matters at hand for awhile after that, and everything seemed to be running smooth enough—until the tea arrived.

Mrs Wilson had meant no harm when she entered the room, and in truth, none of the following events had been her fault. She was simply a housekeeper, and Anthony should have been paying more attention. He was attentive to some things, the way you moved included. The smile you sent Mrs Wilson when she offered you tea, and the way strands of your hair fell forward into your vision at the nod of your head made him want to get up and cross the room to you. It made him want to brush them back and touch the skin that he could see. He wanted to speak with you then, he realized, and had he held any sense, he would have pushed the idea back into the depths of his mind. In a pause of conversation between you brother, Anthony decides to stand and cross the room, to where you and his mother reside. Your own mother sits beside you, bewildered at his sudden approach, and yet it doesn't occur to him that this could go wrong.

"Let me, Mrs Wilson." Anthony doesn't know why he takes the teapot from the housekeeper, nor does he understand why he finds himself pouring tea for the set of women before him. But the way your eyes run over him, the upturn of your lips to his actions makes it all worth it. Of course, until it all goes wrong. Again.

"Anthony, the tea!" his mothers voice rings in his ears, and when he looks back toward the teacups his eyes widen. He's overfilling the cup you hold as she speaks, and the hot liquid spills onto your hands. You yelp in surprise, seemingly not having noticed his mistake until you felt the burn, and drop your cup abruptly. The sound of it shattering is sharp, echoing along with Anthony's embarrassment.

"My apologies Miss L/N, I did not intend to—are you okay?" he watches as you scramble to your feet, trying your best to avoid the other splashes of the hot tea, and the shards of the cup upon the floor.

"No, I am sorry Lord Bridgerton," Your eyes move quickly between the broken teacup and your dress, now stained. He can see embarrassment in your own movements, and can feel it in his.

"I was the one at fault, Miss. Please allow me to apologize," Anthony had not realized how close he had come to you until this moment, his eyes scanning over your figure trying to find any way he could help. But it struck him suddenly to know that he had taken your hands in his own. He had been checking for burns from the tea, but now the feeling of your skin on his brought heat to his cheeks.

He drops your hands abruptly, casting his gaze to your brother, who stands disapprovingly to his left. "I am sorry again," Anthony takes a step back, though now your eyes have met with his, and he can see something in him that suggests he might not be the only one flustered by the encounter. "Are you harmed at all? Did you need assistance, perhaps by one of the maids, or a doctor?" he can still feel the weight of your fingers held in his own, even now as space lies between you.

"I am okay, my Lord, though I am rather embarrassed." the way your eyes sparkle seems just for him, and when you shift your gaze towards the maids, now cleaning up the mess from moments before, he watches the small and bashful smile you once held fall.

"My apologies, I should have been more careful." You say to the maids and all others in the room, though Anthony is shaking his head before the full sentence can even dare to leave you.

"It was me who was careless. You are not at fault." he places a hand over his heart, once again ignoring all other surroundings in favor of absorbing you. "I am sorry if I caused you any pain, and given the chance, I would love to provide funds for a new dress to replace the one my incautious behavior has ruined." his words cause a small, almost inaudible gasp from his mother, though he can see her expression in his peripheral. He will not hear the end of this for a while, he thinks. Once word got out amongst his siblings that he had found a soft spot for a woman he hardly knew, enough to pay for new garments, he would be endlessly teased. And yet he didn't care. Because the look on your face, one of shock, and fascination made him feel important.

That however, was the moment where your brother cleared his throat. Breaking through whatever connection Anthony had made with you.

"Are we to continue with business, Bridgerton?" He sounds irritated, and it's clear he can see exactly how the viscount is feeling. It's not hard to notice by now that Anthony's gaze is hardly able to break from you for a second.

"Yes, of course." Anthony is still looking at you when he says it, and only when a hand is placed on his arm, his mother's, pushing him back toward his seat, does he break free of the spell you so effortlessly place.

A few weeks later and the carpet has been cleaned, no stain has been left from the tea, and the teacup broken has long been replaced. The Bridgerton estate is bustling with noise, its latest ball bringing the entire ton and more to the premises. As Anthony's eyes scan the room, cautious of making any wrong moves, as usual, his heart wanders, leaving him behind. You stand with a drink delicately in hand, ivory gloved fingers with a gentle grasp upon the glass. Anthony, once again, can not look away.

When you finally meet his eyes, he is unable to stop himself, moving through the ballroom swiftly, even as many others try to stop him for conversation. The other women of the ton pause their own movements in the hopes the viscount may be coming to speak with them, and with each lady is passes, disappointment, and envy fill the room.

"Miss L/N." He greets you with a smile, partly because he can't help himself at the sight of you.

"Lord Bridgerton." you attempt a short bow, one that is barely there at all, but he doesn't mind. Somehow he knows you're teasing him. Testing him perhaps, in the way you smirk.

"I am pleased to see you again. You look wonderful tonight." his usual flattery makes you scoff, partly in shock, though there is humor there too. It is not at all lady-like, nor what your mother trained of you, but Anthony finds a thrill in the behavior, as inappropriate as it may be.

"Do you not believe me?" he asks, watching as you take a sip of your drink. You do it almost to fill the gap between his speech, and it seems practiced. As if you have done the same to pause conversation between many men before him.

"No, I do believe you my lord. I am aware of my appearance. Though I should thank you, for this dress is the one you paid for."

"It seems to me that it was money well spent." Anthony is a gentleman, though he can picture himself with his hands tangled in the dress you wear tonight. Knowing that he was the one to gift it to you somehow makes his feelings grow stronger.

"It does seem so." There's a quiet between you after your words, partly because he can not think of anything more to say, and you laugh in the space of the silence. A gentle sound, not loud enough for many other than him to hear, but the grin that accompanies it is what makes Anthony's stomach flip. It's something he had never predicted occurring within himself, and yet, now he can feel it.

"Would you like to dance?" he asks, and somehow he knows you'll say yes, if only to continue the tension between you. You nod at first, handing off your glass to a passing waiter, before taking his hand.

"I would love to."

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crazyk-imagine · 2 months

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There’s a Heat Between Us, You Must Admit

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Plus size!rader

Characters: Plus size!reader, Anthony Bridgerton, Benedict Bridgerton, Colin Bridgerton, Daphne Bridgerton, Violet Bridgerton, Mildred “Millie” Nightington (reader’s cousin), Bernard (the servant), Eloise Bridgerton, Francesca Bridgerton, Gregory Bridgerton, Hyacinth Bridgerton, Simon Bassett, Augie Bassett

Warnings: Anthony is an idiot, the bee scene (mainly from the book scene), drama, Daphne doesn’t want to see her friend end up alone, reader gives Anthony the biggest side eye ever, reader and Anthony are idiots, Millie is a sweetheart, reader and Anthony are competitive, the sideburns line was something I learned about, reader is stubborn, Anthony is oddly very emotional in this, reader knows a lot of things, reader doesn’t know how to deal with her emotions, pregnancy scare, the pregnancy scare reminds me of a sitcom

Word Count: 13,647

A/N: Reader’s last name is Starlington and also, super excited to have finally finished this one.

*1,700 follower celebration post*

Also, Happy Valentine’s day!!

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Sometimes you loved your dear friend Daphne and other times you didn't, right now for example, you don't.

Honestly you don’t know how this got brought up (again) but you’d wish she would stop; it’s not going to happen even if she wants you to officially join her family.

You knew her being the first to marry out of the two of you was going to lead to more of her shenanigans, but this was too much for you.

You sigh, setting your cup down to look her in the eyes, “I have no plans on being in this season.”

Her shoulder sagged, “I understand that but-”

“But, nothing. Daphne, I am more than content with my being staying very much untied to a man. If I happen to meet someone worth it, you’ll know.”

Anthony glances over in your direction and his mind goes elsewhere.

You’re his sister’s best friend who also became Benedict’s best friend soon after you met the rest of his family.

He isn’t particularly upset at the fact that you’ve managed to befriend his siblings (slightly better than he could) but, there’s something that keeps bringing a certain idea to the front of his mind.

“Are you going to take your turn or continue staring?” Benedict asks.

The eldest shrugs off his brother’s comment.

Anthony uses the dreaded “death mallet” and once again, manages to pass the others.

Daphne heads towards her siblings before they can scream and shout at her for sitting down instead of taking her turn.

You sigh, shoulders sagging because you know she means no harm; you know that but, you can’t force yourself to love and care for someone you don’t have feelings for.

You’d never admit it (out loud or to her) but there are nights where you do wonder how it would be if you did get married to someone you loved.

The concerning part is how her brother sneaks into your mind; not your closest friend, Benedict, or the third oldest, Colin, and of course not, Gregory.

No, Anthony is the one to invade your mind and corrupt your dreams with his charming smile and smooth movements.

And you would never dare tell Daphne or your cousin of your thoughts; no matter how hard she tries to convince you he feels something for you.

You take a deep breath, returning your focus onto the game only to meet a pair of oak brown eyes gazing upon you.

You tear your gaze away at the sounds of Violet walking down the stairs, carrying a smiling Augie in her arms earning a smile from you as you observe the happy baby.

You glance towards her and offer a polite smile, giving her a moment to settle down in the free chair before turning to focus on the young babe. “Hello, Augie,” you greet him with a baby tone and shake his chubby fingers.

“He’s always taken with you,” Violet comments.

“I am the one who always manages to search for his mother when he cries for her. Sometimes I believe myself to be a dog.”

She chuckles, “that’s not it.”

“Why else would he like me?”

“You have a natural instinct that he senses. Children know these things.”

“If that’s what you say.”

Daphne steps away from the others, wanting to see her child. “She is right, you know.”

“Not you too,” you groan.

“You will make a fantastic mother.”

“Someday.”

“It could happen sooner than one would think.”

“What are you planning?”

“Nothing.”

Anthony stares back at you once more, observing the way you interact with his dear nephew. As he searches for someone to call wife, his most secretive thoughts keep coming to mind. The more he searches and the longer you stay, the more he finds himself wondering.

His mother continues to help him in his search for a wife albeit reluctantly since she finds herself so fond of you. She’d never explicitly tell him to pursue you but, she could always kindly ease him into the right direction, which is when his disbelief comes to the surface, truly believing you to feel nothing for him.

He knows if he tried to pursue you and it fell through, he will have ruined a lifelong friendship for his family- as he watches Daphne hold her purple mallet for you to take- he realizes he can’t pursue you.

Not that he’d ever given it any real thought, but he’d never be able to forgive himself if he was the reason, you stopped coming by.

You shake your head.

She puts it in your hand, persuading you into taking her place so she can attend to Augie.

You step down from the seating area with little energy.

His sister offers encouraging nods.

“I see you finally came to join us,” comments Anthony.

You avoid his gaze- you can barely stand beside him. “Not like I wanted to,” you reply.

“You’re scared to lose?”

You scoff, turning to look up at him, “that is not what I said.”

He smirks, leaning closer to you, “you didn’t have to.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “we’ll see who’s laughing when I win.” You walk away, taking your turn. You’re satisfied until you sense him behind you.

He follows you, “for someone who didn’t want to play earlier, you’ve certainly found your spirit.”

“Or was it a trick?” You smirk, glancing at him when the ball rolls through the metal hoop with ease. “You look nice,” you comment, turning around to walk away.

Anthony’s brows furrow together, his body takes over as he steps closer to you, standing beside you. “What do you mean?”

You turn, struggling to find the right words without sending the wrong message. “I only meant you look nice. You know, people- people can actually see your face now.”

He continues to stare at you.

“Your sideburns were nice but it- they- people may have assumed you grew them to hide what lies in your heart.”

“And what do you think lies there?” The words escape him before he could process his thoughts.

“I believe the love for your family and future wife is there, along with the care and compassion you hold for them. I do have to admit, I am a bit glad you shaved.”

He tilts his head, “and why is that?”

“I was afraid you would have continued growing them and at some point, they would connect,” you use both hands the gesture from your sideburns to your upper lip, “and you would look as though you were wearing a mask of sorts,” you say with one hundred percent seriousness until you think about it and snicker, covering your face with your hand.

Anthony is also unable to keep himself collected and joins in. He straightens his posture, “what of you?”

You take a deep breath, fanning yourself. "What of me, for what?”

“What do you think lies in your heart?”

“The same as you, I suppose. Love and compassion for my family and the few friends I have.”

“What about me?” He asks before he can stop himself.

“What?” You don’t know what to think.

“I-” He walks past you, placing his mallet back into place before exiting, wandering to the garden. He needs to get as far away from you as he can in order to clear his mind.

You don’t understand what’s happened and place your mallet beside his before chasing after him.

He stares at you, half listening to you and his attention moves elsewhere.

“Are you even listening to me?” You stare at him, wanting to understand him. You’re too into your thoughts to hear the faint buzz.

The noise sends a shiver down his spine, he knows the noise too well; his nightmares (if he can remember any) always start with the faint buzz.

He doesn’t move as he searches for it. Sadly, for the eldest child, he doesn’t have to search for long as the small, striped animal floats around you. He prays to whoever is listening to hear his silent prayers for it doesn’t sting you; he can’t lose someone else to the blasted creature.

“Anthony?” You ask, glancing down when you feel something land on you. You realize why he can’t look away. “Hey, it’s alright.”

He can’t focus on your words, his mind rattled with the memory of his late father. “Don’t move,” his voice is low and shaky.

“I know, it’s a bee but, it won’t hurt me as long as I-” you close your eyes due to the discomfort you get from the sting, and it sends him into a whirlwind. “I’ll be alright,” you say, still trying to reassure him. You open your eyes to see how pale he’s gotten.

He invades your personal space, grasping onto your arms. “Are- are you-” He glances back and forth between your face and your wound. His voice is low, far too low for you to understand what it is he is trying to say but you swear you hear him mutter something along the lines of, “don’t move'' repeatedly.

You know you must calm him down before he can do anything. You reach for him, placing a hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at you. “Breathe, Anthony. I need you to breathe.”

He can’t say anything, almost as if he’s choking on air. Images of his father invade his mind, filling him with worry and dread.

You can see he is close to tears. Your voice draws him out of his thoughts. “I promise you. I hope you know I wouldn’t lie to you. I’m fine but I will still have a doctor come and look at it so that it may heal properly. I’m right here. I’m here with you.”

Anthony’s hands grip your biceps, he notices how swollen the sting site has become.

“It stung me, but I am not hurting. This has happened before. I will be fine.”

None of your reassurances are having any effect on him.

The image of his father taking his last breath in his mother’s arm is enough to make lean in to suck the venom out.

“Anthony?! What are you-” You cut yourself off at the feeling of his shaky hands trying to remove the stinger. “Anthony, you must stop.”

“Shut up,” he hisses, trying to stay focused on keeping you healthy (and alive) while fighting to keep his father’s death out of his mind.

You take deep breaths, you try to push him away, but he is insistent and stronger than you. “I am fine, I just need to see a doctor and I-”

“Would you be quiet,” he finally lifts his head to look up at you.

You gulp, “I know- I know what tragedy has happened in your family but, today will not be the same for me.”

He doesn’t listen and continues to squeeze the area.

You gasp, eyes widening at the feeling of his hands being so close to your breast. This has gone too far; you must stop this before someone sees. “Anthony,” you place your hands on his chest to push him away once more.

“Stop it,” he shoves your arms off him. “Let me get rid of the venom.”

“There is a doctor who can do this and-”

“The doctor is not here. I am.” He stops squeezing when some liquid begins to spill out of the wound.

You look down, finding the trail of liquid, “see, you did it. Now, I am going inside to-”

Anthony pulls out a handkerchief, wiping away the trail. “It’s not all of it.”

You wrap your hand around his wrist, stopping him from patting you dry. “You must stop this, Anthony. If anything were to have happened, it would have happened already.”

“There is still more,” he mutters, staring at the irritated area.

“You need to stop.”

“I haven’t gotten all of it,” he turns, staring at you.

“Whatever it is you’re thinking of doing. Don’t.”

“I have to get the venom out before it kills you.”

“It won’t kill me-” you gasp, seeing the determination in him as he leans forward. You place your hand on his shoulder, keeping his head away but fail to remove his hand.

The click clack of women’s shoes against the rock pathway alerts you, but you feel as though you can’t move.

A gasp makes you turn to find his mother alongside your cousin, Mildred (Millie for short), staring at the two of you with shocked expressions.

Your heart rate increases and gain enough strength to fully shove him away from you, knowing how this looks.

He glances up at you with a confused expression.

“Anthony?” Violet calls out.

His brows furrow further, he looks over your shoulder, “mother?”

“What is going here?”

“She was stung by a- a bee.”

“A bee?”

“Yes, a bee. I’d told him repeatedly I was fine. I’ve dealt with being stung before,” you say, struggling to keep yourself together.

“You were stung by a bee and the boy found himself attached to you?” Mildred raises a brow.

“Don’t look at me like that, Millie.”

“I’m not, I’m wondering how you think this can be kept quiet.”

“Kept quiet?” You repeat quietly to yourself.

“Neither of us would repeat a word of what occurred today,” he argues.

“That doesn’t mean anything for a woman’s reputation,” Mildred says with an attitude.

“You do realize anyone could walk out here and spot the two of you, don’t you?”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Don’t you?”

He grits his teeth, “I do.”

“You should consider yourself lucky that it was us who found you and no one else, rake.”

“That’s enough now, Mildred,” Violet intervenes. “Let’s,” she takes a deep breath, “let’s go inside and talk about this further. Lady Starlington needs to be seen by a doctor.”

You can’t stand to be there any longer and turn away from him, walking past the two ladies and Anthony; your pace speeds up before you know it, you’re sprinting back to Audrey Hall.

Mildred sighs, “now what are we to do?”

“We will all walk back and discuss this,” Violet says.

“Of course, we are but, what am I to tell my parents? They’ll be curious to know why their niece’s name is in a Lady Whistledown column.”

Anthony grunts, taking a step towards the two. He passes by them and quickly announces, “we will marry before the end of the season.”

“Did he say what I think he did?” asks Mildred, watching his figure walk away with wide eyes.

Violet sighs, shaking her head, “I believe he did.”

“Did I do the right thing?”

The mother of the family stops, turning to face your cousin, “what do you mean?”

“I- I basically pushed themselves together into this potentially unhappy marriage. I know I sometimes I can’t keep my comments to myself but, I swear I had good intentions. It's just- when we came around the corner to see that I- I worry about her. I fear I may have ruined my relationship with the two.”

“I can’t give you an exact answer but, I can say that as long as you have your cousin’s interest and happiness in mind, the most you can do is hope for the best. They are both emotionally driven people, even if neither wishes to admit it. This will be hard for them, and it may be a test.”

“A test?”

“To see if they will make good of their marriage. You and I, as well as my other children, have come to realize how they connect with one another. They can’t see it for themselves but there is something there and now is the time for them to see it.”

“I suppose so. What if they can’t make it work?”

“Then I fear they will be in a miserable marriage.”

No one else disturbed you after the doctor left.

You sit at the edge of the bed, your vision blurs; you cover your mouth with shaky hands. You don’t want others to hear if they happen to be walking by. You cry, struggling to catch your breath.

Everything you’ve been feeling with the last few days is slowly escaping you. Your mother is requesting to visit and marriage situation with Anthony; it’s too much.

You take deep breaths, aiming to calm yourself down.

Maybe it would be better if you left and went home or maybe somewhere far from here.

A knock disturbs you from your thoughts.

You wipe your cheeks, hoping whoever it is will go away but fail as another knock comes through. You take a deep breath and open the door, “Viscount Bridgerton?”

He lifts his gaze off the floor, “what happened to Anthony?”

Any curiosity falls from your expression, “your making light of the situation?”

He shakes his head, “I would never.”

“I think you’ve done enough today. It’s almost time for bed.”

He takes a step closer to the door, his hand inches away from being crushed, “I,” he sighs, taking a step back, removing his hand from the door. “I have come to ask if you would have dinner with me.”

“With you?”

“I think it would be wise if we talked before anything becomes… official.”

“Now?”

“Are you going to use full sentences any time soon?”

“Why should I? Is it bothering you?”

“Nevermind that. Are you going to join me or not?”

“Will there be someone else there?”

He gives you a reluctant nod, “yes, your dearest cousin, Mildred.”

“I’ll be down in a moment. I will meet you there.”

“I’ll wait here.”

“Do you have to?”

“No but, I think it might be good practice for us.”

“Practice,” you mumble and shut the door. You walk over to the vanity, staring at yourself, wondering how you got into this situation. You snatch the extra handkerchief and pat your face, removing any evidence of your despair.

You take careful steps toward the door and exit, Anthony leaning against the wall across from your room. He holds his arm out for you to hold.

You shake your head.

“Don’t you think you’ve touched her enough today?”

He sighs, “Mildred.”

“Who else would it be?” She interlocks your arms together, pulling you ahead of the eldest Bridgerton. “Come on.”

“Do either of you know how to use it?” Anthony asks, staring at the stove.

Mildred shakes her head, “the maids are always around to do it.”

“Both of you sit down,” you say.

“Do you know how to work this?” he asks, sounding surprised.

“I do. It’s too late for us to have a full meal, instead we can have a glass of warm milk.”

They sit at the table in the corner of the room.

Anthony watches as you move gracefully around the kitchen.

“If you keep staring, she’ll catch you.”

He turns to her, “what?”

“You’re staring.”

“No, I wasn’t,” he denies.

“You can lie all you want but I know you care for her. Perhaps, you always have and never wanted to admit it before and the whole bee situation was a ruse so that you could stop being a ninny and marry her instead.”

His jaw drops, he doesn’t know how to respond. “I did not-”

She waves him off, “do not lie Anthony, I know you love her and have for some time now, only you must realize it now than later in your marriage. I do not want her… or you to be unhappy. Oddly enough, I seem to care for you but, obviously not the same way she does you.”

He scoffs through his nose, muttering to himself, “obviously.”

You place the glass of milk in front of the two, interrupting their conversation. “Don’t tell me you’ve decided to marry my cousin instead.”

Anthony nearly chokes on the liquid, setting the glass down and snatches the handkerchief you hold out for him.

He wipes his chin, “what makes you think I would want to marry, Mildred.”

She scoffs, “you’d be lucky to have me, Bridgerton.”

He narrows his eyes to her.

“I’ll be just outside this door, leaving the two of you talk and nothing else.”

You furrow your brows, “wait. Mil-”

She waves to you.

You take a deep breath, not wanting to face him.

It was different when he wasn't paying attention to you and rather his own life, but now... you hope he doesn't want to talk.

"We should- we should talk."

Everything in your screams to not run away and hide, even though it sounds like it would be the better option right now.

"How are you?"

"I would be happier if I was marrying for love and not because of your concern over my virtue," you mumble.

He overhears and sighs. “Don’t-”

“No, I understand. Truly I do, just- I need- it’s late. Apologies for keeping you up.” You grab the skirts of your dress and walk out.

Mildred watches as you run away. She spins around and stands in the doorway. “What did you do?”

“Me- I-”

She sighs. “Just shut up.”

He sighs and slumps in the chair. Mildred storms into the room after you.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.” You take a deep breath, hunched over your vanity.

“You know, you two act as a married couple who have known each other for too long and no longer know how to act lovingly around one another.”

“You are wrong, cousin. He is- he is the scum- the scum that rests at the bottom of my shoe. Why would I ever marry someone like that? Much less that Bridgerton, I mean, Colin would be a better option and I don’t like him as much as I do Benedict.” You keep your head down, “people marry for less.”

“I wish to marry for love, if it ever decides to come my way but until then I will deal with him marrying the only person, I care about that is close to my age.”

“So, you care enough about me to marry me off?”

“Don’t phrase it in such a way that makes me the bad guy,” she throws herself onto your bed.

“Go to bed. I will be fine, Millie.”

She props herself up on her elbows. “Are you sure?”

“I am. Please,” you look up and turn around, putting on a brave face. “I promise you. I will be fine.”

“If you’re sure-”

“Which I am. Goodnight, Millie.”

She sighs and steps outside of the room, “night.”

“Good morning.”

You don’t respond to Mildred.

“Are you ignoring me?”

“I am simply showing you the way my soon-to-be husband will treat me.”

“What do you mean?”

“It has already begun. I awoke early and decided I wanted to speak to him after thinking about it all. I say hi but he does not.” You shrug, "it doesn't matter now."

"It does though. Let me," she sighs. "Let me speak with him. I can- I can fix this."

"No," you say. “I don’t want you to be in the middle any more than you have.”

“Alright... now onto more pressing matters.”

“Such as?”

“Your plans for the wedding?”

“Oh, right.” You continue to stare out the window.

“Are you sure you're alright?”

“I just-”

Anthony stops himself from knocking on the door and decides to listen.

“I thought when I was to marry, I would marry for love not because I need my virtue protected or saved."

"If he didn't agree to this-"

"I would be a spinster."

"That is how I will live my life," Mildred grabs your hand and gains your attention.

Anthony takes his leave, unable to stay there any longer.

“That is not how I want you to live your life. I want you to be the one to have another you can call upon if there is something the matter because I won’t always be there and I need to know that you are protected before I leave.”

“You’re leaving?”

She sighs. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out but yes. A week after you’ve been married, I plan on traveling the world.”

“Your childhood dream.”

“Precisely.”

"I- what if I'm not good enough to," you wave your hand around. "This."

"This what? I'm not sure I understand."

"What if- what if I am not fit to be a wife. I mean," you push yourself out of the chair and pace around the room. "I don't want him to be disappointed in the person he is to call wife. I don't want to be in a marriage of..."

"Regret?"

"Precisely."

She stops you by placing a hand on your wrists, “now is the time for us to plan your wedding. Violet and Anthony have been sitting in the tearoom since I came in here.”

“She’s- they’re- why didn’t you tell me?” You rush out the door.

You clean yourself up outside the door and nod to your servant, Bernard, to open the doors. You nervously smile at both.

Violet pops up from the chair closest to the window. “How are you?”

“Oh- uh- I’m,” you glance to the side and stare at her eldest, who locks eyes with you.

“I mean from the- well, you know,” she struggles to say.

You let out a breath of relief, “ah, yes. I do. I am- I am fine. I’m just happy that everyone else is fine.”

She smiles, “that is kind of you to say, but unnecessary.”

“I hear you came to talk about our upcoming… event.”

“Is that what Mildred told you?”

You furrow your brows, “is that not what you’re here to discuss?”

Anthony pushes himself off the couch. “Not yet. Mother, if you’d excuse us.”

“Anthony, I don’t-”

He gives her a look.

"We will be right outside this door."

"What did you want to discuss?"

"If we are to marry, we should have stipulations."

"You think I'll be so horrible that we need rules?"

"Not you. I believe if we have these, we'll have a better understanding of what should come from this marriage."

"Why don't I just stay by your side and show my face when you need me to so you can look like the perfect husband? Would that make things easier?"

He sighs. "That is one of the things we need to discuss, which events you'd prefer to come to."

"Oh, I get to choose those?"

"Please stop. I am trying to make this as easy as I can."

You clench your fists. "How am I supposed to be okay with this?"

“It’s my fault and I am trying to make up for that.”

You pause, “your fault?”

He nods, “yes, it was- it was me who... couldn’t.”

You step forward and place your hand on his, drawing his attention onto you. “It is not your fault when something so devastating comes to mind and you do all you can to prevent another. I do not blame you, but you must understand that I do not want to be one of those ladies.”

“Who?” The only word he can get out as he studies you.

Your compassion shifts into something of annoyance, one he knows too well. “You know who, someone who wants to be like Penelope’s mother or maybe even... all of the other ladies,” you chuckle, proud of the joke you made.

"I'm glad you can make jokes at a time like this."

You roll your eyes, "oh hush, I am still upset about pretending to be a perfect housewife for the one man every woman dreams of being with."

"Are you included?"

Your mouth agape as you stare at him.

"You two haven't maimed each other, perfect."

"Millie," you pinch the bridge of your nose.

"Oh, don't act so coy now."

You roll your eyes and sit down, waiting to hear what Anthony and his mother have to say. You pace along the floor, finding it to be quieter here than in the tearoom with the others, even if they weren’t talking it was still too loud. You know there’s no alternative for what’s transpired between you and your soon to be husband, but it still hurts knowing he will never love you the way-

“Are you alright?” Daphne’s voice draws you out of your thoughts.

You give her a small smile and hope she doesn’t poke further.

“I know this isn’t how it was supposed to happen but there is one good thing about your marriage.”

You scoff, “and what, pray tell, is that?”

“I finally can call you sister.”

You try not to show how happy that makes you, not wanting her to know she was right. “Thank you.”

She drags you over to the piano.

“I still don’t understand why you have many so pianos.”

She shrugs, “for moments like this, maybe?”

“Are you waiting for me to play?”

She nods, “of course, I am. You were always much better than I was.”

“I was not.”

“Show me then. Show me how awful you play, and I will not ask you again.”

You don’t know how long you had been playing for, but it was something you missed- not having a piano in your own home, you didn’t realize how long it had been.

You usually prefer to play when no one is watching but having Daphne by your side was nice, she always knew how to help calm you before things could get worse; everyone knew of your father’s temper, and no one wants to face that through his only daughter.

Anthony raises his hand to knock on the door but pauses as he listens, he doesn’t realize Daphne had learned a new piece. He slowly opens the door and finds you playing instead.

‘When did you learn how to play?’ He wonders.

Or maybe it was, you had always known, and he was too into his fantasies that he forgot to pay attention to the true version of you.

Just when he was hoping to learn something horrible about you; you’re becoming more and more like his...

“I didn’t know you played.”

You open your eyes and glance up at him, standing up as quickly as you can. “I don’t.”

He furrows his brows, “that’s not what I heard.”

“That- that was nothing.”

“Why are you lying?”

“I prefer to keep this information to myself so if you could kindly pretend you didn’t hear anything, that’d be best.” You exit the room, knowing you’ve left

Anthony in a wave of confusion. “What was that about?”

“She doesn’t like others to know of her talents because she knows they’ll ask her to perform one of them.”

“Her mother.” He finally understands.

“And her aunt.”

Now he truly gets it. "Is this what you two would do while I was out with mother?"

She shrugs and pushes the seat back. "Perhaps, or maybe you were never around long enough to learn about her even though you're entranced by her."

He stutters, unsure of where she could have gotten that idea. "What?"

She quickly hides her amusement before he can see. "Nothing. Goodnight Anthony."

He tries to stop her, but she ignores him, offering an excuse for needing to put Augie to bed. He wonders what else he doesn’t know.

You pace back and forth in front of his office door; this isn’t something you can do in person, is it? You sigh and wonder if it’s a wise choice to be doing this at all.

You slip the letter under his door and take a step back. “That wasn’t so hard.” You turn around and briskly walk down the hallway, hoping he doesn’t see that it was you who was there.

Something moving in the corner of his eye piqued his interest and moved closer to figure out what it was. He picks up the letter and opens the door, seeing someone’s figure turning the corner before losing sight of them.

He closes the door and opens the letter, wondering what you could have said when you’ve already said plenty.

Dear Bridgerton,

I I want to start off by apologizing for my outbursts, you don’t deserve them, and they are not aimed at you, but you happen to be the person I am talking to and... This is not how I expected the season to begin or end and I’m sure you didn’t either but if there is someone I were to marry, I’m happy it’d be you... because I trust you. I will do all that I can to be the perfect wife for you and if not, I apologize in advance.

Sincerely, Your annoying soon to be wife

The next day came, and you didn't know how to act.

You sit between Daphne and Mildred when he enters.

He sits in front of you and nods, acknowledging you, which you return.

The girls beside you don't know how to react, each staring at the other with a raised brow.

You two talked with his mother about the decisions for your wedding.

"Have you two discussed what you want?"

Anthony opens his mouth to answer but finds himself without an answer.

"Everyone will talk, and it will no doubt be in Lady Whistledown's column, but it would be preferred if we had a small ceremony, family only."

You don’t look up from your plate. Violet nods, listening intently. "I will use the dress my mother made when I was born, it'll save us time on getting a dress. The flowers can be your choice."

"And after?"

You turn to her, "it'd be smart to hold a small reception after all though it will increase because everyone will want to see who married the handsome and fortunate viscount."

You push yourself out of the chair. "I apologize but I realized I promised to spend time with the girls before we go out for our shopping trip."

"What just happened?"

"Have you two talked about anything regarding your wedding?" Violet asks her son.

"Every time we discuss something-"

"No, have you sat down and discussed what you two are to do? Who will be there? Anything that a soon to be husband and wife should discuss?"

His shoulders sag. "No."

"I want you to go in my place."

"What? Why?"

"It will give you two a moment to talk and prepare for the future hardships you two will face as a couple. Raise her spirits. She got a letter from her mother, saying she will not be able to attend. Perhaps that is why she is so uninterested today."

"She- how do you know?"

"I'm your mother, I know more than you would think."

Anthony waiting by the door frightened you. “Are you joining us?”

“I’m here in place of my mother.”

It takes you a few seconds to process what he said. “You are?”

He nods. “Shall we?”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath.

The failed whispering voices of the women around you, annoys you to the point where Anthony feels that he needs to do something. “Is there anything that has caught your interest?”

You shake your head.

“Let’s go. I know somewhere we can have a better time, away from the whispers of these women.” He leans in, whispering into your ear, “they’re jealous of you.”

You cover your mouth to hide your amusement, not wanting him to know he’s helping lift your spirits. You two exit the shop and return to the Bridgerton home. “Why are we back here?”

“We are going to have a drink.”

“With your family? Couldn’t we do that any day we wanted to?”

He holds his hand out for you to take, which you do. “Although that may be true, that’s not what I had in mind.” He places his arms behind his back, clenching his fist not wanting you to see the control you have over him. “We’re going to spend time in my office.”

“Oh? I’m invited in, I feel so special.”

“You should, very few are allowed in here, especially when I’m working.”

“Of course. The head of the house needs quiet or else.”

“I see going out has helped you.”

You watch as he fills the glass for you before grabbing it and swallowing it in one gulp. “You could say that.” You scrunch your nose at the sensation, maybe doing that was a bad idea.

He takes a seat in his chair.

“Could I ask you something?”

He nods, staring at you over the glass as he takes a sip.

“Did your mother inform of the one guest we won’t be seeing at our wedding?”

He slowly sets the glass down before returning his gaze to you. “She may have mentioned it.”

“Is that why you came with me today because she told you to and not because you wanted to?”

“She may have said she thought it was best if I take her place, but it was initially my choice to go.”

“You’re not lying?”

“What would I gain from lying to you?”

You sit up and reach for the bottle, filling your glass. “A relationship built on a lie.”

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Are you trying to make this harder than it needs to be?”

“I can’t just- you can’t honestly expect me to ignore that we are marrying one another when you never wanted to marry and I hoped that when it happened, it’d be with someone who loved me.”

He’s out of his chair before you realize he’s now sitting in the chair beside you. “What will it take for you to stop saying that?”

“What?”

He leans in closer. “Why do you think I could never love you?”

“I-” You gulp. “You have spoken before that you never want to marry, what else am I to think?”

“How do you know I couldn’t change? What if something comes of this relationship?”

Your breath hitches and you continue staring him in his eyes. “I suppose we’ll have to cross that bridge if we get to it.” You set the glass down and rush for the door, “I’ll take my leave now. I’m feeling quite tired after our outing.”

He grabs your wrist, pulling you back in before you could open the door. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pressured you into answering my questions.”

“What if I enjoyed them?”

You turn to face him with a small smile. “Then I am concerned for your being.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“Be honest, did you mother tell you about my mother is not coming?”

“No,” he shakes his head, but you know the truth.

“You don’t need to lie on order to preserve myself, it’s okay.” You sigh, “is it sad that a small part of me wishes for her to be there?”

“Not in the least. It’s natural for you to want your mother there-”

“It’s not because she’s my family, I just- I need her to stop pushing marriage onto me.” You pace back and forth, “this is my way to prove her wrong but that makes me feel worse because it makes me seem as though I’m being a bad daughter.”

“You’re not,” he disagrees with you. “That is anything but you being a bad daughter. If anything, she’s- she’s scared to lose her daughter to a new family because they know you will be starting a new life, away from her and that’s why she doesn’t want you to help.”

“But what if-”

His hand slides down your arm as if his hand lingering wasn’t enough to drive you mad, he tightens his grip on your hand.

You force yourself to focus on his words and not the warmth emanating from him.

“Stop. All the negative thoughts you have are not going to help you. But listen to this, you are a good daughter, and she should be happy to know her daughter will be taken care of. As long as you are a part of this family you will be taken care of and not have to worry about expectations.”

“I won’t,” you whisper, not meaning to. He shakes his head and gives a small smile. “I promise.”

He realizes he’s been holding onto you this whole time and his arm falls. “Can I walk you back to your room?”

You nod, ignoring the warmth flooding your cheeks. “I would like that.”

“Will I see you at breakfast tomorrow?”

“You will, and if I ask you the same question?”

He smiles, “I will be there.”

“Good, I think this is a good start to our future marriage.” You step inside the room.

“I am sorry.”

“What?”

“The marriage… and the reason we are to wed.”

“What do you mean?”

“I lost myself and-”

You shake your head, placing a hand on his chest over his heart. “I do not blame you for something as traumatizing as your father’s death. Please know that.”

“But-”

“Anthony Bridgerton,” you tell him using a stern tone. “Stop it. It may not have happened under the best of circumstances, but I am happy that I will be wed to you than some other man. I can at least trust you.” You step back into the doorway, slowly closing the door as you bid him goodnight.

He stands there, touching the spot where your hand was until he drops it, straining his hand as he fights to clench it.

Benedict and Colin happen to be there when he turns the corner.

“Quite a show you put on there,” the second eldest says.

“Yes, you’re whole “I’ll be the perfect husband” speech was wonderful,” the third eldest chimes in.

Anthony scoffs, “would you two quiet down?” He grabs them by their collars, dragging them into one of their miscellaneous rooms. “Why aren’t you two out?”

“How could we be out when you’re here?” Colin asks.

“Trying to woo the love of your life,” Benedict adds on.

“I’m not- you two are acting like children.”

“Us? Acting like children?” Colin starts, glancing at his brother.

“No,” the artist shakes his head, “I don’t think so.”

The soon to be married man glares at his brothers, unsure if he wants to listen further or not but if he doesn’t let them continue it’ll be worse in the morning. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “If I let you two continue, will you keep quiet in the morning?”

“Morning?” Colin turns to partner in crime. “What’s happening in the morning?”

The artist glances over his older brother and grins, “is the soon to be wed joining his family and future wife for breakfast?”

“With him being silent, I’m going to say yes.”

“Finally, you agree with me.”

“I agree with you,” the third eldest argues.

“I don’t recall.”

“Okay, now that you two are done, I’m going to bed.”

“To dream of your wife.”

“She looked quite nice today, wouldn’t you say brother?” Benedict asks.

“I dare say, she looks even more radiant since her recent engagement.”

“You two are done,” Anthony shoves them out of the room. “You two will not speak of her like that again. She is your friend,” he jabs Benedict’s chest. “And your future sister-in-law,” and does the same to Colin. “You will respect her and not talk like this again, understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

The next morning as soon as you step out of the door, your future husband paces. “You’re awake.”

“I am, it’s time for breakfast.” You close the door behind you. “Shall we go downstairs and join the others?”

“We’ll be the first ones down there.”

“Either way, I’m going down.”

He holds his arm out for you to take. “Shall we?”

You give him a small smile and nod. “After breakfast, what are your plans?”

“I have a few things I need to look over but after that I’m free. What did you have in mind?”

“I planned on going for a walk along the back of your family’s estate and perhaps we could talk about things.”

“Just the two of us.”

“Mildred could join us?”

“I’d rather she not.”

“I don’t blame you; she’s been on a rampage since earlier this week.”

The doors open and his brothers, Daphne and Mildred, are already sitting at the table.

“Of course,” he mumbles.

“Did you say something?” You ask him.

He turns his head towards you, offering a small smile. “No, it’s nothing.”

The glances between him and his brothers were interesting, intriguing to you and the girls, who also had no clue what was going on.

He stands behind your chair, hand resting on your shoulder. “I shall find you after I am done.”

You nod and watch him go.

“Well, that was interesting.”

Daphne shushes your cousin.

You lay across the couch, reading another book and were so into it, not even realizing that he had entered the room.

He smiles as he steps closer, wondering what’s going on inside your head, finding you to be more interesting as he observes you reading, compared to his sister. He leans against the back of the couch, bending down to catch your attention.

A shadow moving catches your eye and you turn, screaming soon after.

You place your hand over your heart, taking deep breaths. “For heaven’s sake! What was that for?”

“What do you mean?” He smirks, arms on around the sides of your body as he stays behind the couch. “What are you reading?”

You turn around and cross your arms, “why does that concern you?”

“Can’t a future husband be curious as to what his future wife is into?”

You glance at him from the corner of your eye. “Is that all?”

“It is. But that’s not why I’m here.” He doesn’t say anything else.

You get impatient and wave your arms around. “Spit it out. Come on.”

“We are to marry by the end of the week.”

Your brows raise is surprise, “oh.”

“Is that alright?”

You take a deep breath, “I just- I wasn’t expecting it to be so soon but that’s- okay.” You place the book beside you and stand up, brushing the wrinkles out of the skirts of your dress. “I need to go over some things with your mother.”

The humor falls from his face. “Wait- where are you going?”

"I just told you."

He follows after you, "I heard you but-" He reaches for you, pulling you back. "Can we talk?"

You take a deep breath to calm your beating heart. Why is this happening now? You thought you were over this. Your lips part as you stare at his hand. You shake your head, staring up at him. "I- what do we need to talk about?"

"Lady... things." He’s quiet for a moment. "I won't push you but know I'm here to talk if you need someone."

"Thank you." You take off, not noticing the way his hand slowly falls or the way he clenches his hand.

It's been a long time since he's felt the skin of a woman he was enchanted by, especially one he's to call wife.

"Did we catch a moment between you and your beloved?"

Anthony sighs, "don't you have charcoal to break for your fruit drawings?"

His younger brother puts a hand to his chest, offended by his brother's comment. "I'm hurt, Anthony. Truly, I am but it's not why I'm here."

He turns to face the artistic Bridgerton, taking notice of the serious look on his face. "What's wrong?"

"Sister."

"Which one?"

"Not one of ours."

He furrows his brows, mouth agape to ask why but realizes who his brother is referring to. "I thought we had taken care of this situation?"

"We did but then she decided to cut their trip short and has been calling on you since she arrived today."

"I need you to take care of her. I cannot allow her to ruin my marriage."

Benedict nods, "you finally figured out you truly care for her, didn't you?"

Anthony chuckles, "I'm not discussing this with you. Call Colin if you need help."

"We got it. Go take care of my future sister."

He nods for the doors to be opened. "Good morning, ladies."

Your cousin shakes her head, your mother fawns over him while Violet takes a sip of her tea.

Your eyes widen at the sight of him.

He places a hand on the back of your chair. "I expect you all enjoyed your breakfast before discussing more of the wedding."

"Oh, certainly. Your family has been nothing but kind to us, Viscount."

You adjust the napkin on your lap to keep you from rolling your eyes at your mother's fake enthusiast tone.

Mildred pats your arm, knowing the strained relationship between you and your mother.

He notices the tension in your shoulders and wishes he could pull you away from all this madness. "Anything I can help with?"

"Oh, heavens no. You have other more important things to take care of. Leave this to us ladies, isn't that, right?"

You purse your lips and let out a quiet, "mmhmm."

Maybe it was better when she said she couldn’t come to the wedding. Yes, you were sad, but it was better than the real thing.

Violet glances between you and your mother. "Why don't we let the girls go on a walk with Anthony watching over them?"

"But-"

"I think this will be good for them. It will give them more time to talk."

The woman hesitates to say yes, debating if this is truly a wise decision before making a decision.

You didn't realize how tight you were squeezing Mildred's arm until she let out a whine.

Your eyes widen, "oh, Millie. I'm so sorry."

"It's fine. I should have known better. I know how crazy she makes you." "This always happens?" You don't look in his direction. Your cousin nods her head, "unfortunately."

"Why has she made this unexpected visit?"

"She," Mildred pauses, giving herself time to think of a better answer than truth.

"She wants to know if I am with child and if the reason, you're marrying me is to save my family's name."

Anthony nods, he understands why you preferred planning this with his mother and your cousin. "Should we?"

You two glance over in his direction. "What are you implying?"

He shrugs, "I merely suggest we pretend as if there is something going on, give your mother something to worry about."

"You want her to pretend as if she is with child?"

He nods, confirming Mildred's nightmare.

"Please tell me you're not thinking of going through with this. It’s absurd and- oh, no. Now I like it."

You glance between the two. "Is this something you two finally agree on?"

They stumble for a minute, waiting for the other to argue and tell you no but come to realize you are, in fact, correct.

Daphne stumbles upon the three of you and smiles, neither Mildred nor her brother are arguing, and you don't look uncomfortable.

"Daphne!" Your cousin waves. "Come, come. We need your knowledge on a subject."

She nods, smiling. "May I ask what you need my help with exactly?"

"How does one pretend to be with child?"

She owlishly blinks, tilting her head staring at the woman as if she's lost her mind. "I'm sorry?"

"We are feeding into my aunt's absurd idea of her precious daughter being with child."

Anthony purses his lips, finding himself to be offended more than he had been by Mildred's comments. "I'm not the worst option for a father."

"Moving on," she waves him off before returning her attention to his sister. "We need information."

"And you want to do this?" She turns to face you.

Your eyes widen slightly, not realizing she was going to ask. "I think it would be... nice to show mother how well her child is without her watchful eye."

"And you're sure this is the way to do it?"

You shrug, "it's not so much if I think this is okay, it's more like she needs to realize I am my own person and can live a life without her dictating everything for me."

Daphen nods, "okay. I will help."

Mildred smiles and interlocks her arm with the Bridgerton girl's. "Come, we have much to discuss."

You turn to your future husband and raise a brow.

He stares at the two, wondering what advice his sister could have to offer before holding his arm out for you to hold onto as you all return to the hall for dinner.

"Are you sure about this?"

You hum, not having listened to a word he said.

"I asked if you're sure about this. Mildred and I were joking, we don't expect you to play along with this idea."

"Your kind, but this is something I need to do. She won't listen to reason if I tell her I don't need her help, she'll involve herself, no matter what."

"And this is how you'll get her to stop?"

You sigh, "we'll see."

The dinner was entertaining for most, you felt bad for embarrassing Violet and the Bridgerton name all to get your mother off your back, but you felt there was no other way to stop her from inserting her wants and needs before yours.

That was the first night you had a stern talking to from your future mother-in-law and- even though you could have thought of a better way to handle the situation, it felt nice to be taken care of the way a child should, compared to the way your mother raised you.

You didn’t talk to your cousin or future husband after and went to bed with too much on your mind.

Then came the wedding, it was as lovely as could be even if it was short notice and only family was invited.

It came as a surprise to everyone, mainly yourself, when your mother decided it was time to stop and act like a caring parent.

She smiled and fixed a piece of hair that was out of place. “I know this isn’t the wedding you dreamed about-”

“I didn’t dream of a wedding often.”

She sighs, realizing she’s been putting words in your mouth rather than stopping to listen to you. “I never dreamed of marrying someone I didn’t love. If I were to ever get married, I’d rather it be with someone I could have a future with than someone who would rather be with another.”

"I know."

"And you know what else- you know?"

She nods, "I've been trying to relive my life through you, and it isn't fair. I'm here to watch you marry the man who will provide, take care of you," she cups your cheeks. "And love you the way you deserve."

You shake your head, fighting to keep your composure, not wanting anyone to know of your breakdown. "He doesn't love me."

She nods, "he does, you just can't see it."

"How-"

Your mother shushes you, "it's time."

The reality of the situation didn't hit you until it was time to walk down the aisle but with the help of Mildred and Daphne, you were able to overcome it.

That was also the only time you've felt the lips of your husband.

Since the wedding it feels as though all the progress you two made was wasted, even Mildred was tired of your constant complaints before and after she left.

You sit in the library, biting your nail until it hurts and turn the page; a new habit of yours, one Eloise would be proud of.

You started hiding away to read when everyone went off to live their lives now that the beginning of yours has ended started. You’ve been reading more since your cousins’ departure; it was a tearful morning but you're happy to know she’s out living her life the way she wants.

Then Daphne and Simon left the hall so they could return to their lives in their own home with little Augie.

You've tried to go out with Violet and Lady Danbury, but they preferred to ask when you two would expand your family; safe to say you also hide in here for another reason.

The youngest Bridgerton’s are swept away for their studies as they continue to grow. Francesca and Eloise are nowhere to be found half the time (hence where you got the idea).

You don't know if you'd be able to handle talking to the other two brothers since marrying the eldest. The comments they make at breakfast are enough, going on a walk with them would be too much.

Not that you mind the quiet even if it does get lonely at times.

You push yourself off the ground, placing the book back in its place only now realizing how dark it had gotten and your candle has died, providing little light to guide you; its barely the size of your thumb and the wick is dying the longer you stay here.

You open the door, carefully closing it and wince as the hinges creaking echoes down the hallway. You pause at the sound of footsteps only to hear a familiar girls whisper. "Hyacinth?"

She smiles, "what are you doing here?"

"I was reading."

"In the dark?"

You two glance down at your source of light that died as soon as she mentioned it. "The candles died."

“Can you take me back to my room?”

You smile and nod, “of course I can.” You grab her hand and try to find your way back to the hallway where her room is.

“Finally, we found it.” You glance down at her, “I told you, we would.”

She smiles up at you with a sleepy expression. “I knew you would.”

You open the door and get her settled into bed before exiting.

You wonder what it would be like to have your own child and stop. Are you really thinking about what it would be like to have a child when you haven’t seen your husband since your wedding day?

You shake your head and continue down the hallway before turning around, realizing you made a wrong turn; you sigh, leaning against the railing, staring at the ballroom floor.

You remember the first time you arrived at the hall and saw him. You didn’t know why your heartbeat was so fast until your cousin explained it to you.

You wonder if he knows how you feel and if that’s the reason, he’s been avoiding you.

“What are you doing awake at this hour?”

You spin around and find- “Ben!” You cross your arms to cover you.

He smiles, “what are you doing out of bed and away from your husband?”

You take the jacket he offers you, “I’d rather be reading but my candle died- oh no.”

“What?”

“I left it in your sister’s room.”

“Ah, so you’ve seen the whole family other than the one man you should be seeing.”

��Quiet now, Benedict. Unless you want others to know you’ve seen your brother’s wife in her night dress.”

“It wouldn’t be the biggest scandal our family has dealt with.”

You lower your head, rubbing your forehead at his words. “You’re an idiot. I’m going to bed.”

Anthony had a rough night and going to bed was something he desperately needed, maybe seeing your figure laying in our shared bed would make him feel better; he always seems to calm down when his eyes land on you.

That was something he always enjoyed about you whenever you were around.

He stops removing his coat when the door opens, and his brother is behind you while you stay in the doorway with his coat around your shoulders.

His brother takes the item from you and takes his leave before Anthony starts asking questions (not before Benedict gives him a suggestive look).

He doesn’t want to ask- he shouldn’t ask, it’s not his place. “Something I should know about?” He hopes this doesn’t lead to a fight.

“What do you mean?”

“We’re going to pretend as if my brother walking you, my wife, wouldn’t be a scandal if we were elsewhere.”

“Why? Don’t you trust me?” You ask, tired of all the games; him avoiding you and now having an interest in you.

“Do you know how much it affects me?”

An annoyed sigh escapes him, revealing to you how he feels (about the situation and not yourself). “What affects you, sweetheart?”

You ball your fists, “stop calling me that.”

He can’t call you such an endearing name when he hasn’t been acting like your husband. “That is what a husband is supposed to call his wife, is it not? A charming word of endearment for a handsome lady, such as yourself.”

“Stop talking…”

“What else am I to call you? I cannot call you by your name, it would prove-”

“How little we care for each other.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You. I’m talking about you.”

“Me?”

“You are a pest.”

“A pest,” he whispers, finding himself offended.

“You have never once thought of myself in the manner of being one’s wife but yet you act like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re my husband.”

“Am I not?”

You study him. “You want to make a big deal out of this when you’ve been avoiding me since the wedding? Therefore, you are a pest.”

“I- I haven’t- when was I avoiding you?”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

He struggles to remove his coat and you make your way towards him, helping him.

“Your brother found after I helped Hyacinth get back to bed after she found me exiting the library. He didn’t want anyone else to see me in such a… intimidate manner.”

You stare at him through your lashes. “Anything else you want to add? Maybe,” you place his jacket on the back of the chair before taking a seat at the vanity. You start removing the pins and ribbons keeping your hair up, your tiredness hitting you as you prepare for bed.

He sighs, untying his collar. “I wasn’t avoiding, I’ve been… busy.”

“Busy? You’ve been busy?” You undo the sheets, settling onto your side. “I’m going to sleep until you can come up with another excuse on why you’ve been avoiding me.”

“I- believe me when I say I wasn’t avoiding you because I- this isn’t easy.”

You spring up, glaring at him. “And you think this is easy for me?”

“I’m not saying anything about our marriage. I have been,” he pauses, thinking of the right word. “Dealing with personal matters, things you shouldn’t have to worry about because of a mistake I made in the past. I am trying to protect this because I care about you.”

You gulp, “I’m sorry.”

“What was that?”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms as you stare at the ceiling. “I’m sorry for thinking you were avoiding me but to be fair,” you spring forward, pointing to him. “I- I-“ You struggle to speak as you catch the sight of his bare chest.

He knows what he’s doing to you and his chest warms at the thought of only you being the one to see him in such an intimate way.

You turn away, fiddling with the sheets. “Like I said, I’m sorry for assuming the worst but considering-“ You close your eyes, following the way his lips moved against yours. You push him away, the warmth of his chest lighting a fire within you. “Just because we are married, does not mean you can use your body to change the subject or get me to stop talking about something you don’t want to.”

The corner of his smile twitches before he allows himself to smirk.

You’ve only ever seen him use this expression with his family, never once was it directed at you.

You’re happy tonight ended the way it has, you’re feeling closer to him, learning more of what makes Anthony Bridgerton tick.

He closes his eyes, chest heaving with every breath he takes. “I’m here.” He pulls away from you.

Your hand falls at your side.

His figure fades away, leaving you confused.

You burst up, confused as to what your dream means and glance beside you, finding him still asleep. You push yourself out of bed, needing the get away for a moment, sitting in the bench underneath the window.

You stare at the stars, wondering if there was some way, they’d be able to respond to your questions. It’s only been several days since your marriage became official; you still feel as though you’re not and none of is real.

You think back to your first kiss you two shared at the altar and the one you shared before going to bed. Your fingertips brush against your lips, relishing the sensation you felt then as it fills you with something you never thought you’d be able to enjoy.

‘Is this what love is?’ You think, staring at the bright moon, knowing it won’t answer you.

You glance back at him and wonder if he’ll ever love you the way-. You wipe away the stray tear, knowing how much it’d break you if he decided to cheat or leave you entirely.

Your greatest fear was thinking you’d end up alone.

Now you fear he’d be the one to leave you without looking back.

He squints, the moonlight disturbing his slumber. “What are you doing up?”

Your head snaps in his direction. “Hmm?”

He repeats his question, sitting up in bed, his night shirt wrinkled and slipping off his chest.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you tell him, not believing your own words. You crawl back into bed when you notice he won’t fully fall asleep until you’re near.

As soon as you settle onto your side, his breathing evens out.

You lay your head on the pillow, fighting the thoughts you know will keep you awake, feeling you’ll need more sleep than anything.

"We need to try for a child."

He glances up from his work. "I didn't realize your mother was in town."

You narrow your eyes to him, something he is truly fond of even if you are upset with him. "I'm going to pretend as if you didn't say that."

You close the door and pace around the floor in front of his desk.

“If you find yourself calm enough to talk, could you repeat what you said when you busted into my office.”

He knows what you said, there's no denying what he's heard but what's got you riled up to bring up such a topic.

The wedding was only three weeks prior, he knows of the idle gossip some of the other women enjoy talking amongst each and he's curious as to who said something.

He's also been trying to keep himself busier than usual to keep him from staying up too late and thinking of performing such acts upon you. He sets his pen down, giving you his full attention. “Why are you asking now?”

“I’m not asking,” you argue.

Is it such a wise idea to try and push for this? Most likely not but you're too upset over the gossip to think logically.

He studies you for a moment, wanting to understand what happened to make you think such a thing.

“What happened? I mean, you and Daphne went out for a walk, right?”

You pause, trying to understand where he’s getting at before nodding.

“Who said something to you?” He raises his brow.

“No one… exactly,” you huff, crossing your arms.

“I know they’re expecting me to be with child by now or at least, in the works of trying for a baby and I don’t want there to be another Whistledown column with either of our names in it. It’s not just my reputation that could be ruined, it could be yours or your family’s this time.”

He can’t help but smile at your kind thoughts. “I appreciate the concern and I’m sure my family would as well, but everything is going to be fine. We don’t need to worry about this.”

You continue having your pity party. “I’m glad you seem to think so.” You furrow your brows, thinking about how he’s avoiding the topic. “Why are you putting this off?”

“Putting what off?”

“You know what I’m talking about, don’t act as coy as your brothers do when asked about their courtships.”

He doesn’t have a way out, does he? A knock on the door alerts him. “I have other business to attend to, I’ll see you at dinner?”

You scoff, “you pretend as if you want me and need me when we are in our shared room but now that we are out in the open you want nothing to do with me? Tell me, are you just using me for your own gain?”

He sighs, “please, can we,” he glances at the door to find his brother. “Talk about this another time?”

You nod, offering a fake smile, “of course, husband.”

His attention turns to you once more, “I thought we weren’t going to have the normal marriage?”

“It seems we were both wrong.” You shrug. “Goodnight, husband.” You yank the door open, rushing past Benedict and the guest without looking back.

Kate smiles watching as you put yourself further away from the one person she wants. “It seems you and your bride are having minor troubles, may I?”

Anthony grits his teeth. “What’s brought you here, to my family’s hall, today?”

Her mischievous smile turns into an evil smirk, “I’ve come to visit an old friend, after all, didn’t you say I was always welcome?”

“That was before you tried to take my family’s fortune and run off.”

She plays with the cuff of his coat sleeve. “If it makes you feel better, I have a husband.”

“Then you should be with him.” He removes her hand from him.

If this had happened a year ago, he would be crawling back into her embrace but now that he has you, the only person that can keep him sane; he’s not going to make that mistake.

He sits down at his desk, rereading the page he was working on when you came in. He knows he’d be stupid if he fell for her tricks once more and ruined your marriage (and family name).

She pouts, not liking the fact that he doesn’t want her anymore.

“Perhaps you should go back to your home. We must clean up for dinner,” Benedict chimes in.

She spins to face the second eldest, “dinner? I’d love to.”

Anthony pushes himself out of the chair. “That’s not an invitation.”

“Why? Are you scared I’m going to ruin your precious marriage? You truly think I’d be harsh to do such a thing?”

“We don’t need to think it if we know.”

She smirks in trump, feeling as though she’s won.

You glance at the two with a sinking feeling in your stomach.

Is this the way your marriage is going to end? It took a while before you could remember where you knew her from and as soon as it clicked, you were fidgeting in your seat. Why did he allow her to sit so close to him?

She knows he's a married man and doesn't care. Maybe she thinks the marriage is fake and- you aren't worthy enough to be his wife.

You push the food around on your plate, your appetite forgotten. You remember the rumors about their relationship but could never be proven since she went back to India with her mother but now that she's back, you don't know what to think.

He notices and wishes that she didn't invite herself to join his family tonight.

You ask him about expanding the family line and him avoiding the topic entirely because he doesn't want you to feel as though this is a duty the two of you have to do.

He remembers when you two were first engaged and how you wanted to marry someone who truly loved you rather than someone marrying you out of a convenience.

His heartbeat when you told you should try for a child, he nearly passed out on the spot at the thought of you baring one of his children.

He knows you'd make fantastic mother; he doesn't doubt that in the least but since the wedding day he's realized something he should have a long time ago- something Kate is seeing for herself; he truly loves you.

Nowhere is it near what she thought they had but she's happy that he has someone who cares for him in more ways than she could.

She bids her farewells before pulling you to the side. "I apologize for intruding on your family dinner, but I think you should know you have nothing to worry about."

You furrow your brows. "I'm sorry, what-"

She shakes her head. "He loves you in more ways than he ever could care about me. I saw it tonight." She smiles, "all I ask is that you take care of him better than I could. I know you're good for him."

You stare at the door as it closes, unsure if anything that’s just happened is real or if this is a fever dream.

“Are you alright?”

You turn to face your husband and gulp. “Perfectly fine, why do you ask?”

“Did- She didn’t say anything, did she?”

The blank expression from your face falls and is replaced by one of annoyance. “What if she told me something she shouldn’t have? Is there something you wanted her to hide from me?”

He shakes his head, “is it too late to say no?”

You scoff, “you’re an idiot.” You close the door, not caring if it slams shut or not.

He stops it before it closes in his face, “I’m sorry I- it’s not true.”

“Then what is? Why do you care whether she’s told me about yours and her relationship or not? I know about you two. I’ve read the columns and-”

“That’s what I was worried about. I don’t want you to think something that isn’t true happened.” He stands behind the chair in front of your vanity. “I don’t want you think I’m a rake when I’m not, us marrying has changed things-”

“Us getting married is the only reason you’ve changed?”

“No,” he stumbles over his words, something he does more when he’s around you than anyone else he’s ever spoken to. “I-”

You push yourself out of the chair and walk towards the bed. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I keep pushing and I’m sorry but right now, I just want to go to sleep.”

“After you listen to what I have to say.”

“I have not felt the way I do for anyone else. I- no words can come close to what I feel for you.”

His grip tightens on the back of the chair. “I cannot- cannot breathe when you are near.” He catches your gaze, “you drive me insane when you try and argue with me. I don’t understand how you have vexed me and stolen my every thought. When you are here all I can think of is you, when you go out with my sister, you are the one thing on my mind. I- you, you are the bane of my existence, but I can’t seem to keep myself from you.”

You turn around, catching his gaze in the mirror. “Why are you telling me this?”

He spins around, “so you understand why I have changed. It’s not because I don’t care for you. I care too much about you. I have for a long time which is why I was scared when that bee was near you.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “I was terrified I was going to lose you and I didn’t understand why until our marriage.”

“But- that was days ago.”

“Exactly,” he takes a step closer. “I’ve been losing my mind trying not to push you into something you’re not ready for. And then, earlier when you came to me, telling me we should try for a child. I didn’t know what to think.”

“What about Kate?”

He owlishly blinks, trying to understand where you’re coming from. “What about her?”

“You’ve been with women before me and I’ve accepted that, but Kate was here, having dinner with your family. She’s- she’s been around town from what I’ve heard being whispered behind my back. She was here and you didn’t tell me. You- you say that you love me, but I don’t know what to believe when the woman you were in love with, who later broke your heart, returned into your life and you didn’t so much as think to tell me. Benedict was more involved than I was!”

You don’t know why you’re getting so upset over this, it shouldn’t bother you this much since you don’t-

“I didn’t want her to spout lies about me to you and make you think I am not going to be a good husband.” He grabs your hands, “believe me when I say she is not relevant. You are my future.”

Your chest heaves with every breath you take. “How-” Your nose twitches as you purse your lips, collecting your thoughts before you completely explode.

“How what?” He switches between looking into one eye and then the other.

“How could I be blind?”

“To what?”

“I have loved you since I could understand what the word meant and now you- you-” You gesture to your back, “help me with my corset. I cannot breathe.”

He nearly rips your dress off you as he pulls the strings keeping the oxygen from getting into your lungs.

You hang your head, trying to keep your emotions at bay.

“Sweetheart…”

You turn around, pointing at him with wet cheeks. “You have ruined me. You have ruined me for any other man since before my first debutant and have had my heart for just as long and I didn’t know it yet.”

He holds his hand out for you, allowing you to take a step closer to him.

You accept and stand with a few inches between you two. “You have bewitched me from the beginning, if you can accept my foolishness and accept me now, I would happily give myself to you only if you can return the feelings.”

“I wouldn’t be able to survive if I declined your love.”

For the first time since the wedding, the two of you share a genuine kiss and not one where he tries to use his body to distract you. It’s one that makes it feel like the world’s stopped spinning and you two are the only ones in the world.

A knock on the door alerts the two of you.

You wince, covering your eyes with your hand before reaching over for him. “Anthony, wake up.”

“I’m coming in and I hope you two are decent.” She groans, “God, you two are naked. Gross.” Mildred complains loudly to whoever stands outside the door with her. “I thought they’d at least have the decency to be awake by now.”

You can hear Benedict’s voice, but it comes out all muffled because you’re not fully awake.

He opens his eyes and turns his head to find your beautiful face lying beside him, hair in disarray on the pillow. His thumb brushes across your cheekbone. “Good morning, Viscountess Bridgerton.”

You find it hard to resist the urge to smile and open your eyes, staring at him with nothing but love and happiness. You hum, brushing back his hair so it doesn’t look as messy, wanting to see more of his handsome face.

“Good morning, Viscount Bridgerton.” You remove your hand from his hair, pulling his hand away from your cheek to peck his palm. “What do you have planned for today?”

“Spending time with my wife, although I do have to say, I don’t think she’d appreciate me lying in bed with someone as breathtaking as yourself.”

You can’t help but smile. “I think if you paid her the same comments you do to me, she’d understand.”

He sucks in air through his teeth, “I don’t know. I think you’d have to meet her to find out the kind of woman she is.”

“I think I know.” You lean against your elbow, meeting him halfway for a morning kiss.

“Would you two hurry up? We have plans. I did not come here on a boat to see you two to stay in bed when I have plans with my cousin. Do you hear me, Bridgerton?”

He sighs, flopping back onto his back. “How could I not?”

You smack his chest before pushing yourself out of bed. “I’ll be ready soon. Go downstairs and wait for me, Millie.”

“If you’re not down here before sunset. I’m leaving.”

You chuckle to yourself. “Okay.”

He pulls you closer to him, hands resting against your waist, slowly wrapping around you. He kisses the exposed parts of your back before pulling you down, kissing along your shoulders.

“This cannot be safe.”

“Just because it’s a new corset, doesn’t mean it’s not safe.”

“For the baby.” He ties the strings through the loops. “When can we tell them?”

“When they won’t freak out.”

“Never, okay.”

You chuckle and spin around, placing your hands on his shoulders. “They will know soon. It’ll be fine.”

He stares into your eyes. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I think that’s my line.”

“Not today.”

You peck his lips before ordering him to tie the corset. “I’ll see you after our walk.”

“Don’t overexert yourself.”

“I won’t. Goodbye, ‘Thony.”

His eyes never left yours as you’re dragged away by your cousin.

Benedict steps inside. “Someone’s happy.”

He shakes his head, ignoring his brother; so happy go feed into the comments.

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frost-queen · 3 months

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Pride in a thunderstorm (Reader x Anthony Bridgerton)

Requested by: anon, Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury, @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn

Church bells rang as the few last of the ton arrived a church for a Sunday mass. The Bridgerton’s being one of them. All dressed in their Sunday’s best. Violet ran her fingers quickly through Hyacinth’s curls that looked out of place. Francesca noticed Colin’s tie hung sideways as she tapped him against his shoulder. Colin turned confused to her as Francesca pointed at his bow. Colin looking down widened his eyes in a brief panic and started working on his tie. Francesca sighed slapping his hands away so she could adjust it for him. Benedict was chatting with Eloise as they neared the church.

Gregory walking composed by Anthony. Anthony had his hands behind his back as his gaze rose resting on a person amidst the crowd. They were on you while you stood with your parents and many siblings. Four to be exact minus you. Five children in total. All girls of various ages. You stood with your eldest sister Julia. One would say the fairest out of all of you. Lillian and Kitty laughing loudly beyond themselves. The ever so quiet Mabel stood beside your father, looking down. Anthony quickly pulled his gaze away, feeling himself stare to much at you. Good thing you hadn’t noticed it.

All of you got in motion heading into the church. You mother flashed a smile with her fan at the preacher as it made you roll your eyes from embarrassment. Julia and you took a seat on the right side of the church. Julia’s ever so bright smile faded. You let your knuckle brush down her cheek, whispering encouraging words to her. She turned her head to you with a saddened smile. You knew it was a façade to hide her true emotions. One she hardly showed to anyone, too shy for it. Grabbing her hand you moved it to your lap. Mabel came sitting beside you as the rest of your family took a seat on the row behind you.

Lillian still snickering as your mother had to shush them. Your father looking at the preaching stool, waiting for the mass to begin as he didn’t notice the world around him burning. On the other side the Bridgerton’s took a seat. Anthony sitting himself down with Benedict and Hyacinth beside him. Violet sat a row behind with Colin, Eloise, Gregory and Francesca. The preacher went to his stool as the church went silent. All eyes to the front. He began speaking as his voice echoed from the walls. The roofing so high as it bounced his voice around.

You squeezed Julia’s hand tighter knowing just how heartbroken she was from Lord Bingley leaving her hanging. Leaving London without a word after every moment with him was magical. For the first time your sister had felt so in love with anyone. Lord Bingley being just the sweet character she needed. Yet now he had left leaving Julia heartbroken. Unsure what the sudden reason was for his departure in the midst of the social season.

The words of the preacher barely reached you as you were too deep in thoughts. Trying to think of signals you had missed. Something that would indicate that Lord Bingley did not like your sister. No that was out of the question. His affection was as clear as day. He only looked at her, he had no eyes for another. So what could make him leave. Had someone said anything to him? You kept breaking your head over it, thoughts spinning.

From behind you, you heard Lillian yawn and your mother lecture her about it in hushed voices. It made you take a deep breath, wondering why some of your family members were the way that they are. Julia had her head low as your eyes widened. Slowly turning your head to her. Her shoulders moving in shocks. She was sobbing quietly. You barely saw her cry. You wanted to place your hand on her shoulder as she got up. – “Sorry.” – she said to you, making her way for the back.

Keeping her head down so no one could see her tears. – “Julia.” – you whispered worried. Now that she had gotten up, you had a clearer view of the benches across. Amidst them the Bridgerton’s. All their eyes were turned to the front yet one pair was looking away. Staring right back at you. Anthony Bridgerton’s eyes were focused on you rather than the preacher. Suddenly something snapped inside of you. A connection made. You got up yourself taking a run for it.

It all came together like a tide-wave, crushing you underneath it. You left the church heading outside. Outside you panted loud needing air. A rumble sounded in the sky, making you look up. Lifting the hem of your dress up, you ran. Ran to get away from it all. With no destination in mind you just went. Running down the path that led you away from the church. The church grew smaller behind you as the rumbling in the sky continued. Before you knew you felt droplets on your head.

First a few than more. In a matter of minutes it was raining. The hem of your dress mudded. You reached a bridge that went over a stream as you went over it. Going to unknown places. The rumbling got louder as you were drenched. Mostly out of breath. In the distance you saw a pavilion. You decided to run for it running over the grass fields. Your shoes splashing in the squishy earth. Touching the stone of the pavilion you panted loud. Chest rising and falling out of control to steady your breathing.

Everything was wet. Your dress dripping on the dry stone leaving a pattern of wet. Slowly your breathing steadied when you leaned against the stone wall. Glancing to the side, you got startled by a sudden figure. Anthony Bridgerton standing drenched before you. His gaze fixated on you. If one was tentative of them they would see the yearning behind them. – “Miss Y/n.” – Anthony spoke out of breath. Your first reaction was to look down.

Avoiding those charming eyes of his. – “I have struggled in vain and I can bear it no longer.” – he continued making you slowly lift your head up to him. – “These past months have been a torment.” – he outed. – “I came to Rosings with the single object of seeing you.” – he went on without giving you a chance to speak. – “I had to see you.” – he breathed out as you kept staring at him.

Perplexed and full of pride. – “I have fought against my better judgement, my family’s expectations all these things I am willing to put them aside and ask you.” – he kept speaking taking no notice of your feelings or desire to say something back. The prejudice inside of you growing at the arrogance of his attitude. Having no concern to you as he so loudly expressed himself without a warning. – “To end my agony.”

Finally you cut through his words. – “I don’t understand.” – to be clear his rambling was getting difficult to understand where he was going. – “I love you.” – he confessed in a matter of seconds. He fell silent as you could only stare at him in shock. – “Most ardently.” – he added upon your silence. He swallowed nervously, shifting his weight on his feet. – “Please do me the honour of accepting my hand.” – he asked, almost beggingly. Your mind was still spinning trying to process the heavy confessions made in a matter of minutes.

“My lord I…” – you began looking briefly down. – “I appreciate the struggle you have been through and I am very sorry to have caused you pain.” – you answered lifting your gaze back up with a slight hint of attitude. It was something you couldn’t hide away. – “Believe me it was unconsciously done.” – you finished with. The sarcastic undertone clear now. Anthony’s gaze had slightly hardened upon you. – “Is this your reply?” – he asked deeply. – “Yes, my lord.” – you responded immediately. – “Are… are you laughing at me?” – he wanted to know taking a step closer to you.

His posture suddenly hostile and defensive. – “No.” – you said loud. – “Are you rejecting me?” – his voice suddenly more agitated. – “I’m sure that the feelings which, as you’ve told me, have hindered your regard will help you in overcoming it.” – you answered bitsy. Not backing down from his sudden change in character. He took a quick breath with a simple nod. – “Might I ask why, with so little endeavour at civility, I am thus repulsed?” – he wanted to know. – “And I might as well enquire why, with so evident a design of insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me against your better judgement!” – you ranted out.

“No believe me…” – Anthony fired back. – “If I was uncivil, then that is some excuse!” – you interrupted him needing it to be your turn to rant to him. – “But I have other reasons! You know I have.” – you exposed to him. – “What reasons?” – Anthony asked visibly confused. You slightly shook your head at the ignorance of him. – “Do you think that anything might tempt me to accept the man who has ruined, perhaps forever, the happiness of a most beloved sister?”

Finally Anthony realized it. He was gawking at you as the realization hit him of his actions. – “Do you deny it, Viscount Bridgerton?” – you asked. Anthony could only stare. – “That you separated a young couple who loved each other, exposing your friend to the centre of the world for caprice and my sister to its derision for disappointed hopes. And involving them both in misery of the acutest kind?” – you ranted needing your anger to be outed. It was all so clear he was the very reason for your sister’s unhappiness. Separating them when they were so clearly in love. How every could you marry such a man.

“I do not deny it.” – Anthony responded clear. His response made you feel disappointed. – “How could you do it?” – feeling yourself get emotional from the heartbreak he has caused your sister. – “Because I believed your sister indifferent to him.” – he explained. – “Indifferent?” – you nearly shouted out in disbelieve. – “I watched them most carefully and realise his attachment was deeper than hers.” - Anthony answered to further explain his actions.

“That is because she is shy.” – you called out to him. – “Bingley, too, is modest and was persuaded she didn’t feel strongly for him.” – he replied loud. – “Because you suggested it!” – you accused. – “I did it for his own good!” – Anthony called back. – “My sister hardly shows her true feelings to me!” – you shouted at him. Anthony was silent, staring at you. His gaze slowly lowering to your mouth.

You smiled half trying to persuade yourself of the silliness of this conversation. That this was the way for Anthony to act so rashly. Because your sister was shy. It was almost laughable. – “I suppose you suspect his fortune had some bearing…” – you began as you just thought about it. – “No! I wouldn’t do your sister the dishonour!” – Anthony shouted back. – “Though it was suggested.”

“What was?” – you answered up most confused. – “It was made perfectly clear that an advantageous marriage…” – he started to explain as you interrupted him rudely. – “Did my sister gave you that impression?” – your voice shrieking a pitch higher. – “No! no!” – Anthony quickly defended. – “No… there was however, I have to admit the matter of your family.” – he went on. – “Our want of connection?” – you yelled at him furious.

Anthony turned his head away slightly vexed or bothered. – “Mister Bingley didn’t seem to vex himself about that!” – you called out to Anthony getting all worked up and thrown back into the discussion. – “No, It was more than that.” – Anthony replied looking back at you. – “How, my lord?” – you asked crossing your arms. – “It was the lack of propriety!” – Anthony confessed loudly. – “Shown by your mother, your three younger sisters, even, on occasions your father.”

The sky rumbled loud behind you as it had not stopped raining behind you. With shock you looked back at him. You knew your family wasn’t the most perfect, but they were still family. Anthony started to notice the impact of his harsh words about your family. – “Forgive me…” – he said in a softer tone. – “You and your sister I must exclude from this.” – he apologized with a soft bow of his head. The two of you were lost in each other’s gaze for some moments.

With a soft breath you felt yourself be drawn to his body. Wanting surprisingly to be closer to him. – “So how will you mend this?” – you offered, not wanting your dearest sister to remain in her unhappiness. – “Mend this?” – Anthony asked bluntly. – “Yes, your actions led to the unhappiness of my beloved sister. Wouldn’t you wish for a righteous when it involves one of your siblings?” – you suggested bringing his family into the matter.

“Well yes…” – Anthony stuttered out, briefly stunned with the ultimatum. – “Then set it right!” – you ordered taking a step closer to him. Anthony neared as well. – “Perhaps these offenses might have been overlooked had not your pride been hurt by my honesty…” – you told him. – “My pride?” – Anthony called out stunned. – “Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your circumstances?” – He replied getting up in your face.

It was intimidating how close he was to you. – “And those are the words of a gentleman.” – you replied angered at how he was looking down on you. – “From the first moment I met you, your arrogance and conceit, your selfish disdain for the feelings of others…” – you went closer to him, forcing yourself closer to his face as it made him back a bit away. Intimidated by you now. – “made me realize that you were the last man in the world I could ever be prevailed upon to marry!” – you called out with fury at him.

The rumbling went quieter in the background. You were panting a bit from having expressed yourself so openly. Anthony tilted his head a bit letting his gaze go from your eyes to your lips. He hesitated bringing himself closer to you. You felt yourself lean more to him as well. Suddenly yearning with desire. He hesitantly pulled back turning his posture away from you.

It made you exhale loud, shoulders slouching as the moment was broken off. Anthony paused letting his finger brush over his lips. He turned back around as it made you look back up to him. Wondering why he had turned back. He stared right at you. Slightly shifting his posture as a hunger set in his eyes. A more demanding approach as he went back to you. Confused you followed the movement of him, allowing your posture to face him fully. He grabbed for your waist and neck, pressing his lips onto yours.

Your eyes went wide as you did not intended this. His lips kissed your forcefully demanding to be satisfied. Slowly your eyes closed, kissing him with passion back. The rain had stopped leaving a dampness over the meadow. Anthony pushed you up against the stone, continuing to kiss you as if his life depended on it. Every inch of him wanted to love you, loved you. You were kissing him back till you suddenly opened your eyes. Pushing him off you and taking a run for it.

This was inappropriate. You had just declared to this man you could never marry him, yet here you were showing him just how much you wanted him. Then there was the matter of your sister. He was the cause for her unhappiness. You couldn’t this to your sister. Anthony watched you leave, with a deep breath. He touched his lips. The very lips that had kissed yours.

Something he couldn’t believe he had done. He had always been so civil, yet now it appeared his yearning for you took the better hand. He knew right now you wouldn’t want him. So he just had to make amends for the sake of your sister and yours. Hoping his act of kindness would bring you back to him. Where he most desperately wants you to be.

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trashywritestrash · 2 months

Text

On the Subject of Love

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Word Count: 584

Warnings: None, just a short lil thing for Valentine's!

A/N: The card and response poems are from Thomas Richardson’s “Gentleman’s Valentine Writer” which wasn’t actually published until 1828, but I needed ideas okay? Also, I wrote this while Bridgerton was still in the lead in the poll lol

For as long as you could remember, Anthony Bridgerton had always sworn that he was not in want of a wife. Therefore, you were not expecting to receive anything from him as Valentine's Day approached. This is where you were proven wrong.

The day came, and with it came a bouquet of flowers and a card from the Viscount himself. In your sitting room was a breathtaking bunch of burgundy musk roses. The color was meant to represent simplicity and beauty, meanwhile the rose variety stated that Anthony found you to be charming. You picked up the card, but before you could read it, your mother entered the room.

Spotting the obvious floral arrangement, your mother spoke up, "Those are lovely, dear! Which gentleman sent them?"

"Viscount Bridgerton sent them," A small smile graced your features as you gazed upon the flowers. "I must admit, I did not think him to be interested in me. Father only introduced us at the start of the season."

"That is plenty of time for him to grow attached. Don't fret, my love. He only sent flowers, as any good suitor should. It is not as if he is proposing marriage." Your mother chuckled lightly before she noticed the card in your hand, "Oh, he sent a valentine as well? Now that is bold. What does it say?"

The card itself did not feature the same hand drawn images as other cards may, but it was embellished with an elegant gold overlay and floral embossing. The writing was clearly done by hand, but carefully in order to remain legible.

As I wander'd about 'tother day full of thought, With the subject of love I was very much caught: Whether best to live single, or best with a wife; I assure you within me was terrible strife. Thinks I to myself, one is stupid alone, And I'm sure I have read, "two is better than one;" So a wife I have fixed on, that wife shall be you, If it please you, and I will be constant and true.

You felt a heat rush to your cheeks as you read the card. Unable to voice the words aloud, you gave the card to your mother so she could read it herself. Her eyes widened as she took in the meaning of the words. "Alright, he implies marriage! However, this is not a proper proposal. He may be a viscount, but Mr. Bridgerton must ask for your hand officially."

With that, your mother left the room, most likely on a mission to inform your father about the viscount's card. Her absence gave you a moment to stare at the message and ponder your emotions. Truly, you could not say that you were in love with Anthony Bridgerton. You did not know him well enough for that yet. But, it was not as if you felt nothing toward him. His words caused your heart to flutter within your chest, filled with glee at the thought of the viscount having an interest in you.

In little time, you had gathered the materials required to make a valentine of your own. Surely, it would be rude to send no response to his lovely prose. And surely you could send it without your parents reading it first.

"To be constant and true"--your promise is fair, And I with your lines am quite smit I declare; So I, at your word, take you, and send you this line, To say I rejoice to be your Valentine.

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xximpressions · 11 months

Text

The Duchess (2)

Anthony Bridgerton x Duchess!reader

Series Summary: After coming into a title you did not expect, you have a chance encounter with a handsome rescuer.

Chapter Summary: You have another chance encounter

Word Count: 1,743

A/N: Yup! This is happening! I plan on five chapters for now, but I honestly love this idea so much that I could extend it way out depending on the comments I get, so let me know what you think below! :)

Bridgerton Masterlist

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The greenery of the park was an enjoyable sight to see as you took a leisurely stroll by yourself on such a sunny day.

With your gaze full of the stretching grasses, towering trees, and manicured bushes, you found that you were easily lost in a serene daze.

It was only when you noticed an unexpected pop of blue amongst all the shades of green that your mind slowly came back to reality.

Squinting, you tried to make out what the pop of blue was as it fluttered in the wind on a low hanging branch.

Reaching up and pulling it between your fingers, you held the object out in front of you and saw that it was a beautiful silk ribbon.

You were about to wonder who it might belong to when the sounds of an inconsolable child reached your ears.

“No! You do not understand, Daphne! Mama will never let me have another ribbon again!”

Turning your head to see a little girl now openly crying nearby with two other people trying their best to comfort her, you cautiously began to make your way closer as the one you assumed to be Daphne spoke in a kind voice.

“Oh, I am sure that is not true, Hyacinth. Mother will be nothing but understanding if you have misplaced your ribbon.”

But the child only shook her head in fervent disagreement as her sobs continued.

Having finally neared the group of three, you tried to be as gentle as you could when you opened your mouth and said,

“Excuse me, Lovely?”

Speaking directly to the young girl, you waited till her cries had slowed into sniffles and she looked your way with brokenhearted eyes.

“I saw that this matched your dress perfectly and wondered if it might be yours?”

With a friendly smile, you held your hand out for her to see what you were holding and got to watch as her expression changed from devastated to astonished within a second.

“My ribbon!” She happily gasped with disbelief.

After hurriedly taking it from your grasp and giving it an inspection, the child looked back up to you with a bright grin on her face as she said,

“It is mine! Thank you!”

You waved a dismissive hand as you kindly responded,

“Oh, it was my pleasure, sweet one.”

Pleasantly done with your task, you were turning to walk away when you suddenly heard,

“Wait!”

Looking back, you listened as the now enthusiastic girl said,

“My name is Hyacinth! This is my sister Daphne and her husband Simon.” She said while pointing at the nearby couple.

Turning back to you, she eagerly asked,

“What is your name?”

Charmed at her genuine curiosity, you smiled as you introduced yourself.

Recognizing your married last name, the one called Simon began to speak.

“Ah, I was an acquaintance of your late husband. You have my condolences on his passing.”

You gave a customary nod of thanks while his wife proceeded to sympathetically say,

“Yes, mine as well, Duchess. I know how difficult it can be to rejoin society after a loss. If you are ever in need of a listening ear, I would be happy to fulfill that role. Especially after you found my sister’s ribbon.”

Touched at the kind offer, you were about to reply when the aforementioned sister gave a surprised gasp and looked at you with wide eyes.

“You are a Duchess?!” She incredulously asked. “Daphne is a Duchess!”

Unable to contain her sudden glee, the once crying girl started to jump in place as she asked,

“Are you in need of a husband?? My eldest brother says he is in need of a wife, and I think you would be perfect!”

While Daphne said Hyacinth’s name in reprimand, you were trying to hide your bashful and humored laughter at her childishly audacious question.

Immediately brushing off the other titled women’s attempt to apologize on her sister’s behalf, you decided to give an amused reply to the girl’s inquiry.

“Oh, is that so? And who might your eldest brother be?”

Without hesitation, Hyacinth proudly announced,

“Anthony Bridgerton! He is a Viscount!”

Without another moment’s pause, her eyes started to dart around in search of something as she excitedly said,

“He is here today! But where has he gone to?”

When her small stature failed to help in finding her brother, the Duke and Duchess of Hastings also began to look and only stopped once they noticed a sizable number of females crowding one man.

While they both smirked to themselves at what they saw, it was the Duke who inevitably explained with a touch of cheekiness,

“That is Anthony being surrounded by all the other women who want to become his wife.”

Following his gaze with your own, you had to stop yourself from freezing in place as you recognized the person he was pointing out.

Because with a thrilling flutter, you realized it was your handsome rescuer from the ball.

As you continued looking, you saw that Simon had not been exaggerating when he said the one called ‘Anthony’ was being surrounded.

There must have been at least half a dozen Mamas and their daughters trying to get the attention of this apparent bachelor.

Admittedly, you could see why.

But before you could dwell on the sight any further, Hyacinth let out an offended sound.

“But they cannot be his wife! I did not choose them!”

As you looked back at her brother clearly struggling across the way, your mind quickly came to a decision about the situation.

Giving the young girl a reassuring smile, you said with a playful seriousness,

“Then we must do something now, mustn’t we?”

Without waiting for a reply, you began to make your way toward the mob-like chaos.

You allowed yourself close enough to the fray to be heard before you politely called out over the pushy chatter of this season’s debutantes,

“Lord Bridgerton?”

All the talking ceased when Lord Bridgerton’s head turned and his eyes locked with yours.

Seeing the recognition on his face, you hoped you were not too bold as you continued by saying for the sake of your audience,

“Were we not to promenade through the park today?”

Phrasing the question so he could refuse your help if he wanted to, you saw the immediate gratitude shining in his eyes when he caught your meaning and did not.

“Yes, we were!” He happily agreed in reply.

As he started to give his regrets and apologies while smoothly extracting himself from the crowd of silently stunned ladies, he kept flicking his eyes back to yours as if to ensure you would not disappear until he was securely next to you on the sidewalk.

Wanting to put some distance between the mob still watching and himself, Anthony was only too glad to offer you his arm as he escorted you away.

Once you were safe from being overheard, Lord Bridgerton quietly admitted while keeping to a leisurely stroll,

“I did not expect to see you again.”

Given how your second meeting had come about, you could not stop yourself from giving a coy smile as you shrugged and said in response,

“You looked like you were in need of rescuing from where I was standing.”

Because you were facing forward as you both walked side by side, you did not get to see the humored smirk on Lord Bridgerton’s face as he recalled saying those exact words to you.

But you did get to listen as he replied in an amused tone.

“Merely a matter of perspective, was it not?”

Glancing toward you as he asked this question meant you each caught the other’s gaze when you happened to look his way as well.

Only being able to hold the staring contest for a few moments, you and the Viscount wound up letting out small chuckles of laughter seconds later.

After collecting yourselves, you continued to walk in a comfortable silence that was broken when Anthony decided to ask,

“So how are you?”

When you looked at him with surprise, he briefly cleared his throat and followed up with,

“It is just that I could not help but wonder how you were doing after the ball?”

Not wishing to think about that night or the drunk who ruined it, you were quick to say,

“I am fine, thank you.”

While flashing him a reassuring grin.

Somehow unconvinced, Anthony hesitated for a moment before proceeding to say,

“I also could not help but to wonder why that man was trying to attack you at all?”

Huffing a small sigh at the question, you responded with a rueful smile on your lips.

“And I am afraid you will have to continue wondering.”

Pulling away in order to face the Viscount, you switched to a more formal voice as you decided it was time for this interaction to come to a close.

“Lord Bridgerton, while you have my gratitude for what you did that night, I would say that we are currently even. So, I think it best that we go our separate ways from now on.”

With that said, you gave a polite smile as you dipped your head in goodbye and started to take your leave.

But you had only just made it past him when a bold question stopped you in your tracks.

“And if I disagreed?”

Pausing, it took a quick second for you to understand the implication of his words. But once you did, you slowly turned your head to look back at your former rescuer and saw the sincere expression of a simmering challenge.

Stuck in his gaze, your eyes mimicked a challenge of their own as you slyly replied with a smirk now on your face,

“I was unfortunately not asking for your opinion.”

And turned to continue walking away.

Anthony could only watch as your figure moved further and further into the distance before his approaching eldest sister caught his attention.

“Brother? What was all that about?”

Still in a state of complete intrigue, Anthony was honest when he responded by saying,

“I am not sure.”

As his mind began to whirl at the thought of needing to see you again in order to find out, he turned toward Daphne after being struck with a brilliant idea.

“But we are going to throw a dinner party,” He said, now smiling. “And I very much look forward to getting an answer.”

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#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x black!reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton fanfic #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagine

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writers-hes · 10 months

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since when? (a. bridgerton x reader)

You grew up with the Bridgertons and for the longest time, Anthony thought of you as a friend…since when did he look at you differently? (friends to lovers, slow burn, the Bridgertons being the best wing men, you look at him but he’s already looking at you….) helpful links: navigation | master lists | rules and guidelines | tag list | fic recs

It was no secret among the Ton that your family was a dear friend to the Bridgertons. Your mother and Violet Bridgerton have been friends since they were children. They shared paper crowns, secrets, joys, and sorrows. They got married in the same year and soon enough, your mother was helping Violet as she birthed Anthony and then Benedict. Soon, it was Violet who helped your mother as she birthed her only child, you.

The Bridgerton household has always been big and it provided your parents some comfort to know that you won’t have to grow up alone. You’d always be surrounded by the Bridgertons and you were. Many a time, the older brothers would sneak into your gardens to tease you while you played with your dolls, a picnic blanket laid on the grass as you waited for Violet to bring Daphne.

“You know, there are other games than dolls,” Colin would tease, his nose scrunching. “Anthony loves to play pall mall. Maybe you’d beat him,”

“Hey! No one can beat me,” Anthony would scold, taking a doll from your hand.

“Anthony! Give me back my doll!” you’d call and he’d run away from you, cackling evilly while his younger brothers inspected your toys curiously. When you’d grow tired, you’d sit on the porch of your house and cry until Anthony came over to you with an apologetic look on his face.

“You took my doll, Anthony! You can’t make girls cry! You can’t make your friend cry too!” you’d sob but Anthony would utter a string of apologies that you’d accept. “I’m your friend, right?”

“Of course. I’m sorry for making you cry,” he’d say. Later in the day, he’d force Benedict to give one of the servants a box of cookies for you and in the morning, he’d sneak off again to see you happily munching on them. He’d steal a piece or two of course, but as a punishment, you’d force him to stay and have a tea party with you.

When you grew older, Anthony was still playful. When he’d bring his friends over while you were having tea with Daphne, he’d pull a face and would ask “What are you doing here again? Do you not have a home?”

“I could say the same,” you shrugged. You were teenagers now and the blows just got better. “With the amount of time you spend in our house, one would think that your family hates you. Guess, I’m right,” you shrugged, the same amount of sarcasm.

“Don’t mind him,” Daphne would say, rolling her eyes. “He’s sulky whenever you’re not around,”

“He’s probably annoyed because he’a got no one to annoy, Daph,” you replied, sipping on tea. She’d smile at you and you’d smile back at the girl whom you’ve always loved as a little sister. “It’s been a while since all of us got together but I understand, of course. The boys have their education to attend to and us…well, we have pianoforte and needlework,”

“They will be coming back soon for a break,” Daphne says. “Perhaps we can all have a picnic?”

And so you all attended a picnic together. It was a summer’s day, families were setting up their own tents in the park for a lovely afternoon. It was unusual to see your family’s tent and the Bridgertons’ right beside each other.

“What is it you’re reading?” Benedict asked, when he saw you. He just got back from schooling two days ago and was back to his old antics.

“Nothing worth mentioning since you can’t read,” you replied with a smile hiding behind the book. “Gregory’s still so young but I bet he can read way better,”

“Hey!” he scolds. “If you must know, I was the best reader in my class as a young boy,”

You laughed. “How have you been, Ben?” You’ve always been softer on Ben and Colin. They’d bother you like brothers did but they never made you cry as a child.

“Same old,” he shrugs, sitting next to you. “I took art history and art as a course for my studies this year,”

“And?”

“I plan on pursuing it,” Ben says. You smiled proudly at him.

“That’s great, Benedict. My husband and I would like to commission you for a painting in the future,” you said. “When you’re famous, please give me a friendly rate!”

“You don’t even have a husband yet,” Benedict shrugged. “Besides, maybe it’ll be your husband who’s going to finance my artistic pursuits,” he hinted and you tilted your head, confused.

“I don’t have a husband…” you trailed off, making Benedict laugh as he saw the gears in your head turning.

“I jest!” he says, making you laugh.

“You are insufferable, Benedict Bridgerton!”

“You are as clueless as I am insufferable,”

It didn’t take long enough for you to make your debut and enter society. It was a big commotion inside your house but a quiet one amongst the Ton. It unnerved you because you were still young. How could your mother not see that you didn’t want to marry yet? She told you that you’d been putting it off for years; now that you were not a teenager. Two and twenty…a little too late to debut but who cared? You were the most beautiful debutante the Ton has ever seen…or at least someone thought so.

“Stop your staring, brother or flies will get inside your mouth,” Colin whispered, leaning ever so slightly to Anthony.

“I am not staring! I’m only surprised,” Anthony replied.

“Well, no one should be surprised,” Benedict added. “She’s of age and she needs to find a husband. Could you imagine? If she marries this year, we could have a little baby to bother next year. Oh, I so want to become an uncle!”

You were looking around nervously. You’ve always hated big gatherings and Lady Danbury’s ball was enormous. At the sight of your three friends, you visibly relaxed, excusing yourself from the gentlemen who approached you (quite rudely) to make a beeline towards them.

“Oh, God. I’m so glad you’re here!” you breathed.

“Lady Danbury would have our eyes for breakfast if we do not attend,” Colin replied. “You look beautiful!”

“Thank you, Colin,” you said, scrunching your nose. You weren’t unfamiliar with Colin’s compliments now and then. He never found it troublesome to say the words one needed to hear to feel comfortable, if not good.

“I was just talking about how much I want to become an uncle,” Benedict said. “Anthony doesn’t want to marry, Daphne’s too young…”

“And you’ve taken me as an unwilling volunteer of your aspirations,” you finished for him, making him chuckle.

“Well, that might be the case. Have you ever had champagne? Libations are usually free-flowing in events like these,” Benedict winked. “In fact, let’s go get champagne after we dance. Come,” he says, extending his hand toward you. You smiled brightly and accepted with your gloved hand, allowing Benedict to lead you to the dancefloor.

“Tsk tsk,” Colin chides Anthony who has not said a word since your arrival. “She’s beautiful, is she not?”

“I suppose,” he mutters before taking an exit.

Upon hearing the news that you have debuted, the girls rushed to your house to hear about last night.

“Did you meet anyone?” Daphne asked eagerly.

“No one,” you replied, seeing as Daphne deflated, you tried to brighten her spirits up. “But…it’s only the first ball. There are many other balls to attend to and bachelors to meet,”

“Are Lady Danbury’s ball as great as everyone makes it out to be?” Francesca asked. “Where are your callers?”

“It is,” you nodded. “I have not danced with anyone last night but Benedict and Colin,” you shared.

Daphne, Eloise, and Francesca were all excited for you. Daphne, mostly, who has always looked up to you as her older sister. Now that you’ve made your debut to society, it could be real. You could finally be her sister.

“And Anthony?” she asked.

“He was brooding the whole night,” you chuckled. “As he always does,”

“I hope whoever you marry is at least smart,” Eloise commented from her chair. “Someone smart enough to hold a conversation…definitely not one of my brothers,”

“Eloise!” you scolded playfully.

“What? It is true,” she shrugged, a glint in her eye.

In a few hours, Anthony comes to fetch his sister. You had been answering the younger girls’ questions patiently, keeping them entertained as you showed them your dresses for the season. Eloise was in the drawing room, drowning herself in her writing.

“Where’s Daphne and Francesca?” Anthony asked.

“Hello to you too, brother,” Eloise greeted. “They’re in Y/N’s bedchamber. She’s showing them some dresses and other things for the season,”

Anthony hummed and made a beeline for your room. It was wide open, your giggles heard in the corridor. Eloise was hot on his tails, trying to see the commotion for herself.

“I hope you’re not giving my sisters any ideas,” he says, leaning on your doorframe. In all of the years he’s known you, he’s never seen your bedchamber. His eyes were darting around quickly, taking note of your books, your table, and paraphernalia that embodied who you were.

“Anthony!” you greet. “Ow!”

He looks at you in alarm, laughing when Francesca apologizes for stepping on your shoes as you taught her how to dance.

“What are you doing, Francesca?” he asked, back straightening to walk inside but he stopped himself, afraid to cross any boundaries. It was Eloise who literally had to shove him slightly.

“It’s okay, Anthony,” you smiled. “I was teaching your sisters how to dance. I’m a great dancer, you know? I can teach you…so you won’t have to step on a poor girl’s foot while you dance,” you teased.

Three girls waited in anticipation but Anthony said nothing.

“No reply?” you asked. “It must be my lucky day, girls.”

“Not that it’s any of my concern but I’m afraid I’m a far better dancer than you’ll ever be. Perhaps, it is I who should teach you? Benedict complained all night because of your dancing,”

“He did not!”

“He did,” he teased, a slight smirk playing on his lips. “Come along, sisters. Mother wants us all for dinner,”

That night, when the three sisters were huddled in the library quietly, they all agreed how wonderful it would be to have you as a part of the family. Unbeknownst to them, their two older brothers also agree.

Anthony peeked outside the window, noticing the line of carriages on the street.

“What’s the commotion outside?” he asked, no one in particular.

“Didn’t you know? Our Y/N was the talk of the ball last night,” Benedict replied. “Such a shame you weren’t there, Anthony. She was seen making an acquaintance with a businessman. He asked if he could call on her today and her mother said yes. Her dance card was filled to the brim, I almost wasn’t able to dance with her,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes, as he watched Anthony. He wasn’t lying, you told him all about it and showed him your dance card. You complained at how tired you were while you both danced. “Maybe we’ll have a nephew or a niece soon, hmm?”

“Can you go accompany me later, Anthony? I want to go to her and see all of these gifts!” Daphne asked. “Do you think someone gifted her a dog?”

“Ask Benedict or Colin to come with you,” he replied sourly.

“I can’t…I have a prior commitment,” Benedict lied. “with Colin,”

“Ah, yes,” Colin added. “I am ready to go to the farm, brother,”

“Come on, Anthony. You could just take me there and leave me. You can come back in a couple of hours!” Daphne begged.

Anthont relented before walking off. He didn’t see how his younger siblings smirked at each other.

Afternoon came and you were tired. You were sitting lazily on the loveseat amongst gift boxes you have yet to open. Luckily, no one gifted you with a dog.

“Y/N!” Daphne called and you smiled, fixing your posture slightly to greet her. “Your gifts! They’re so many!”

“Hello, Daphne,” you greeted. “Anthony, you’re here,”

“Daphne dragged me,” he said, taking a piece of chocolate from the box given to you by some gentleman before plopping down in front of you. “Don’t mind me.”

You looked at Daphne who shrugged.

“Do you want to open them with me?” you asked her, sitting up. “I need your help, you know and you can take whatever you might like,”

“Really?” she asked eagerly. “You’re certain? These might cost a fortune and you’re giving it away?”

“Yes,” you nod. “You can take some for Francesca, Eloise, and Hyacinth too. Besides, you’ll be helping me out. None of these would fit in my room,”

Daphne nods excitedly and picks a box from a shop she knew. She gasped as she takes out a music box with a man and a woman dancing in the middle. She turns the crank and hears a sweet melody.

“Look! The female dancer looks like you,” she says. She digs the box for anything and reads out a card. “Thank you for keeping me company and for making me feel welcomed. Sincerely, A.S..?”

“Alfred,” you told her. Anthony was secretly listening to your conversation. You were on a first name basis now? It annoyed him, he didn’t know why. “We danced last night,”

“What does he look like? Is he handsome?”

“He is!” you giggled, putting away the box that you just opened. “He looks quite intimidating and has a brusque way of speaking but he’s gentle.”

“What are the color of his eyes?” she asked.

“Gray…with hazel and blue,” you replied. “It looks like a dark blue from afar but when you’re closer, you’ll see specks of other colors too,”

“I wish to meet him,”

“Daphne!” Anthony scolded after listening.

“Sorry,” she apologized, a frown on her face.

“It’s okay,” you assured. “You can meet him some other time.”

The Ton fully believed that you were courting. Sightings of you and Alfred around London had been common. You’d have your hands wrapped around his arm while your maid trailed behind. People were so sure that you were courting. How could they not? He was always calling on you or has been seen dancing with you multiple times. It didn’t help that Alfred only danced with you during balls. It didn’t help at all.

“Y/N has been spending so much time with that Alfred lately,” Colin remarked. “They’re always huddled by the dance floor, laughing among themselves. If they weren’t dancing, you’d be certain that they’d be together,”

Colin looked at Benedict discreetly. Daphne and her sisters watched Anthony.

“Maybe there will be a nephew or a niece after all,” Anthony replied with a strained voice. His throat ached as he suppressed an emotion that bubbled in his chest.

The Bridgertons could not be any more wrong. On your first meeting with Alfred, he admitted that he had a girl he loved back home. He hasn’t told her yet, still building his business to fully support her. He only attended this social season to expand his business and had made your acquaintance because your father invested a sum in his business. You both agreed to keep a ruse that you were courting. You weren’t looking to marry and he didn’t want any mamas vulturing him.

He’d been successful in gathering investors. He told you all about his travels and about the woman he left home. He said that they’d visit you sometime soon. Meanwhile, you showed him to London’s high society. You told your father to invite him to his club. He liked dancing and had thought of you as a suitable dance partner. Your parents never minded. The more you spent time with Alfred, the more suitors you had. You’d never know exactly why but Alfred has been telling everyone that you were warm, comforting, and kind.

One afternoon, you were seen with Alfred again, not knowing that the Bridgertons were there in the park too. It was nothing formal. Alfred showed up at your door, asking if you had any plans this afternoon. You said no and asked if you’d like to accompany him to the park. He’ll be leaving in a few days and wanted to spend more time with you before he left.

Anthont watched from the tent as you passed by. You were so consumed with some joke that you didn’t notice the tent.

“Is that Y/N and Sir Alfred?” Daphne asked. “He’s as handsome as she described him! Franscesca, look! I’m going to say hello,” she declared before gathering herself. Anthony ran after his sister who was more than excited to be introduced to the man who had occupied your time. Maybe it was Daphne but maybe it was because he needed to know but either way, he followed.

“Y/N!” Daphne called and you stopped, smiling widely as Daphne neared. You also threw a quick smile towards Anthony.

“Hello, Daphne,” you greeted. “I didn’t know you were here. Had I known, I would have dropped by,”

“It’s alright. I just wanted to say hello to you and…”

Your eyebrows rose and you chuckled.

“Alfred,” your friend introduced himself. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Bridgerton. Y/N has talked so greatly about you. Good afternoon, Viscount Bridgerton,” he greeted and Anthony returned the greeting.

“Alfie—Alfred, you’ve yet to meet the others,” you smiled up at him. Anthony’s heart clenched. Alfie?

“Hey! I told you to stop calling me that,” he chastised playfully. “It ruins my reputation,”

“I apologize, sir Alfie,” you teased. “Anyhow, this is Daphne and Anthony. They’ve been my friends since we were children. They’re like my siblings,”

Alfred’s eyebrows shot up. Maybe to all of them…but that label was disliked by someone. He was looking at him right now.

“Would it be a bother if I introduced Alfred to the rest of the family?” you asked. Daphne shook her head, taking your hand immediately to bring you to their tent, Alfred and Anthony in tow.

“Y/N’s here!” Daphne announced. “She brought Sir Alfred with her,”

“Sorry for the intrusion, everyone,” you apologized. Anthony was about to say that it wasn’t a bother at all. He saw how his siblings’ faces lit up when they saw you. “Everyone, meet sir Alfred. Alfred, meet everyone,”

Everyone introduced themselves. Alfred was charming and perfect for you. Anthony could see that and it made him uncomfortable. He’d been denying the fact for so long and he will continue to do so.

“Alfred is very favorable, is he not?” Violet commented when you both left. You had to go attend an opera show with Alfred for the evening. “Such a handsome man who seems to care deeply for our Y/N. Do you think they’ll be engaged soon?”

“I believe someone else is perfect for our Y/N,” Benedict spoke. “Alfred may be as you described him, mother but I see nothing but friendship between the two of them. Trust me,”

The simple bracelet dangling on your arm made Anthony question Benedict. You told Daphne that you weren’t feeling well today because Alfred left last night. As a parting gift, he gave you a bracelet with a simple pendant. Daphne recalled how puffy your eyes were when she visited. It was obvious that you both held each other dearly. You were just too sad to see him go.

Anthony took it upon himself to light your spirits up again. After a morning of appeasing your callers, Anthony put it upon himself to sit by the garden seen right outside of your drawing room. You knew he was there, he always liked to sit by the swings. You walked towards him and he looked up.

“Why are you here?” you asked.

“I’ve noticed how sad you’ve been since your…Sir Alfred left London,” he said. “So, I thought…why must I let you suffer any longer? Let’s have tea in that place you like. I’ll pay for everything,”

“What happened to Anthony Bridgerton?” you asked and he chuckled.

“We’ve been friends way before we learned how to walk. Besides, banter gets boring, don’t you agree?” he asked, extending his arm for you to take. “You know what? I’ll even listen to you. Just for a day,”

“You will?” you asked, attaching your hand on his arm. “Wait—my maid—“

“It’s okay. Everything has been taken care of,” he said. “Let’s go,”

The Bridgerton carriage waited for you both and he let you in. The ride to the town square was quiet. If anyone understood your plight, it was Anthony. Besides, who would he tell? The gossip papers? Certainly not.

Sitting across from him in a secluded table in the tea shop with finger food and tea before you, you decided to speak.

“Alfred and I weren’t courting,” you confessed, sipping your tea. Anthony feels the constriction in his chest loosen. As if he hadn’t been breathing properly before your confession.

“Pardon?” he asked, setting down the cucumber sandwich that he was eating. “You’re not courting? Then…what about your dances? Everyone was waiting for the two of you to wed. You do know that you aren’t fooling me, right?”

You chuckled.

“He has a sweetheart back home,” you said and Anthony’s hands clenched. How could someone like Alfred fool you? “It’s not like that…before you declare war. Listen to me, alright?”

“Alright,”

“He and I thought of a ruse that we’re courting. I don’t want to be married yet, Anthony. You know more than anyone that I’m in no rush. He didn’t want to be surrounded by debutantes and mothers who asked him for a dance. He was only here to expand his business by looking for more investors,” you said coolly. You looked at Anthony’s furrowed brows. “I know I should have told you but we both agreed to keep it between us. The fewer people involved, the more effective. He and I are friends and nothing but,”

“What about the music box and your bracelet?” he asked. He wanted to take the words back if he could. It showed that he paid attention and it bothered him.

“Oh…” you stuttered, looking away. “The music box was a gift from him. A gift for agreeing with everything. The bracelet…well, it’s the same. It’s a parting gift for our friendship. We both have the same bracelet with the same gem. I was sad to see him leave but more than anything, I’m looking forward to his next return with the woman he loves. Did you know he’s going to confess his feelings? If everything goes well, he'll ask her hand for marriage.” you said and Anthony knew that it was the truth. Your eyes sparkled as you talked about Alfred’s possible marriage.

“It’s what I want for myself,” you spoke. “I want to marry under those circumstances and not because of practicality or…whatever it is. I am expected to marry someone with a rank…someone from a good family. I am an only child but I do not want to be restricted by my responsibilities,”

“I see,” was his pensive reply. “We haven’t danced yet. Did you know that?”

“I am well aware,” you acknowledged. “The last ball will be soon. Would you care for a dance, Viscount Bridgerton?”

“I would,”

Anthony went home that day humming.

Violet was alarmed…he has never seen Anthony so carefree since Edmund’s tragic death. His brothers were amused and his sisters were confused. They were all so used to a brooding Anthony.

“Anthony, is everything alright?” Violet Bridgerton asked. Anthony halts his step, sitting on his own chair.

“Of course,” he says. “It’s a wonderful day, is it not?”

“I suppose so,” his mother replies. “Would you like some tea before dinner? I can make you a cup,”

“It’s quite alright, mother. Y/N and I just had tea,” he shrugged. Daphne’s piano stopped playing and Anthony could feel eyes on him.

“You and who?” Benedict asked.

“Y/N and I,” Anthony replied. “Why are you all looking at me? Is something the matter?”

“No but usually you’d ask me to come—“ Daphne stops as her mother looks at her pointedly. Anthony was in good spirits and it is therefore favorable for everyone if his good mood persists.

“Of course, dear sister but remember, she and I are good friends. I just decided to ask her to spend the afternoon with after Sir Alfred’s departure,” Anthony replied. They didn’t know what he knew.

“Such a shame,” Eloise added. “I thought for sure they’ll be married by the end of the season,”

“What?” Anthony asked, an edge in his voice. Violet’s eyes rolled, annoyed that Eloise might have ruined Anthony’s mood. “Why must she marry him? There are other bachelors in London who suit her better,” he says. “Besides, they are friends,”

“What about the bracelet he gave her? Did you know he has the same one?” Daphne asked.

“Would you rather her marry somebody from outside London and see her rarely or marry someone close and see her often?” Anthony asked. Everyone stayed silent, it seemed as though the Viscount himself hadn't realized his feelings. “Exactly. Anyhow, thank you for your interrogation. I will be in my study to oversee some matters,”

He says, kissing his mother’s head before walking off.

“If that is what Y/N can do to Anthony, I would really want her to be married to him,” Francesca says, earning a few nods from her siblings.

The last ball of the season came and Anthony was dressed in his best clothes. He went to his barber before going to the tailor to have his clothes altered perfectly. He was in the ballroom, awaiting your arrival. Before leaving that afternoon, you both agreed to look your best.

Your mother soon comes with you behind her. You were donned in Anthony’s favorite color, butterflies and flowers embroidered in the dress. Jewels were in place, your hair falling in all the right places. Anthony thought that you looked ethereal.

He waited until you saw him, eyes brightening. He smiled, walking towards you. He forgot his brothers who stood behind him. He’d love nothing more than to have your first and last dances.

“Anthony,” you greeted. He takes your hand and kisses your gloved hands.

“You look beautiful,” he says.

“Does that mean I’m not beautiful on a regular day?” you teased. “You look just as handsome, Anthony,”

“Shall we dance?” he asked and you nodded, allowing him to escort you to the dance floor. Anthony looks into your eyes as lilting music starts. Soft murmurs in the crowd fade away. It’s the first time he’s seen you so, so close. There was a faint smile playing on your lips and he found himself smiling too. “Do you remember, when we were younger, our dance teachers would pair us together?”

“And I remember being the better dancer,” you boasted. “Is this how you teach?”

“No,” he replied, finding his hand on your hip, the feeling of the fabric soft against his skin. “I concede. You are the superior dancer,”

You beamed. Anthony thought that he’d let himself lose in your arguments to see you smile like that again.

“Maybe I should teach you…so you wouldn’t have to embarrass yourself in front of other debutantes,” you offered.

“Why should I learn how to dance with others when I’m perfectly fine with my dance partner?” Anthony asked. “It’s just…one, two, step. Remember?”

“Of course, I do,” you replied. “I remember Miss Rutherford scolding you for stepping on my toes,”

Anthony laughed. “You will never let that down, will you?”

“Of course not. Banter may get boring but I find it most pleasurable to see you agitated,” you replied. “Do I…agitate you?” you asked, swallowing thickly. Anthony could feel your breath on his face.

“You do,” he replied. “Is that good?”

“Very,”

“How was your dance?” Benedict asked. “Did you all know that he and Y/N danced last night? Laughing among themselves?”

“You did?” Francesca asked, excited.

“He left us when he saw her. I think Anthony forgot that he was supposed to be with his brothers,” Colin teased.

“I don’t see the matter,” Anthony replied, swallowing his breakfast. “You have both danced with Y/N. I did too. We are friends,”

“Of course,” Colin replied. “Only…you had your eyes glued on her last night. You shared your last dance together. Mother had to separate the two of you beside the refreshments table because you were too busy giggling among yourselves,”

“I for one would love it if Y/N became a part of our family,” Eloise remarked.

“Isn’t she already a part of it? We all grew up together. Why is everyone acting absurd?” Anthony asked but he knew. He couldn’t stop thinking about you these days. Last night, he tossed and turned in his bed because he couldn’t stop his heart fluttering from the recent events. He remembered the relief he felt when you told him about your ruse with Alfred. He remembered how much he enjoyed his banter with you over the years…most especially recently. He has always seen you as a friend. Since when has he looked at you in a different light? His mouth ran dry, gulping the cold water to calm his nerves. Was this true?

“I would like to visit Y/N,” Daphne announced and Anthony sputtered. He coughs to clear his throat. “Would you accompany me, Anthony?”

“I could not,” he lied. How would he react if he saw you unbothered? How would he react if he saw you again? “I have matters to attend to. Ask Benedict or Colin to take you instead,”

Anthony sat in his office doing nothing but nursing the tumultuous beating of his heart. Since when did I think of her like this? Why is she so beautiful? Would she still accept me despite our shared banter?

Later in the afternoon, Anthony found himself pacing in their garden. He was so tempted to go over to your garden but he knew that Daphne would be there with you. He looked at the gate that separated you to him. Oh, how he wanted nothing more than to have that demolished.

“You’re looking too pensive for my liking,” Violet Bridgerton says, looking at her first born with concern. “I hope you know that your siblings only like to tease,”

“I know but…what if they were right?” Anthony revealed. Violet’s eyebrows shot up. Sure, she noticed how different Anthony seemed to be these days but she never could have expected it to come from him so easily.

“If that’s how you feel, why not tell her?”

“She told me she has no wish to get married,” he says. He then told his mother about the ruse that you had with Alfred. How you both fooled everyone in London.

“Well, Benedict’s right all along,” Violet says. “But you’re both still so young, Anthony. You have so much time and I want you to spend this time on what makes you happy.”

“What if I fail?” he asked with a weak voice. Violet was reminded of Anthony as a child, when he used to voice his insecurities. There was something so beautiful about a child seeking his mother.

“At least you tried,” she said. “It would hurt more if you’re left all your life wondering what could have happened if you tried,”

The weeks that transpired after the social season could be described as irregular. You were thinking of better words to say but it was hard. Anthony was kinder and would purposely seek out your company on slower days. Over the course of a few weeks, Anthony had accompanied you to the theater. He spent time with you at the museum. He stayed at your house to share a meal with your family. The banter was there and it was still enjoyable but you couldn’t deny the fact that the new Anthony was way more favorable. You were now in the Bridgerton home after being invited by the siblings for a meal in the garden. The weather was amazing and Anthony had just installed beautiful lamps that illuminated the garden.

“I would like you to be my sister, Y/N,” Francesca announced after helping her choose a bow. She settled with a peach-colored bow that went beautifully with her hair. You chuckled, brushing off her comment.

“Are we not like sisters already?” you asked, tying the bow perfectly around a lock of hair.

“We are…but it would be better if you lived with us,” she said. “Or visited us more,”

“I’m sorry if you’ve been feeling neglected,” you told her honestly, your hand caressing her hair gently. “But now that the social season is over, we can see each other more.”

“You promise?” she asked.

“Of course. Daphne, Eloise, and you could all come visit me at home. We’ll have the night all to ourselves in my bedroom. I’ll prepare your favorite sweets and we can just talk the whole night. How does that sound?” you asked, your heart warming when Francesca beams at you.

“I’ll have to ask Anthony but I would love to!” she says. “I would have to go to Daphne and Eloise to tell them. Thank you for fixing my hair!”

You sat back on the couch afterwards, enjoying a moment of peace and quiet. You were thinking of all the preparations you might have to do when they do decide to visit. Your eyes darted to a sound and watched the Viscount sit down beside you. While he settled, you closed your eyes. The social season was tiring and it was hard to find rest sometimes.

“You haven’t been here for an hour. Why do I hear Fransesca talking to Daphne and Eloise about a possible visit?” he asked, closing his eyes to rest. He’s been cooped up in his study for hours to oversee the estate.

“She’s right. Maybe not soon, though,” you replied, voice soft. “I’m so tired.”

“Me too,” he says and no words were spoken. The noise outside the house was forgotten now. Your and his even breathing both lulled you to sleep and it was your mothers who found you and Anthony’s heads leaning on each other, just like you did when you were kids.

Anthony has been occupying all of the spaces inside your head recently. Sometimes, you were scared that your mind was projecting him because he’d always be there. You’d walk in the hallways and hear him laughing with you father. You’d be in town with your maid and he’s there, inviting you for gelato. You’d go home with a faint smile playing on your lips before reminding yourself that it was Anthony.

“Miss, the Viscount Bridgerton is here to see you,” your maid says. She took note of how you immediately smiled. “He’s been here…a lot,” she teased.

“We are friends, Mary. Of course, he’d be here,” you told her. “Besides, we grew up together,”

“Of course…but…”

“What?” you asked, fixing the tendrils of hair on your face. “Do I look alright?”

“Since when did you think about how you looked in front of Viscount Bridgerton?” she teased, laughing when your mouth was open agape. She had a point. “If it’s any consolation, you look amazing. I’m sure the Viscount would think you look amazing…if he doesn’t already,”

Confusing feelings that you nursed plagued you. Every now and then, you’d feel flustered when you felt his eyes on you. It was funny, really but what’s funnier was how everyone seemed to know but the two of you. Nothing escapes anyone, especially Lady Danbury who, along with the Bridgertons, visited your house for dinner.

You were all over the table, quiet as you heard murmurs from everyone. Your mother was talking to her friends while your father talked to Benedict and Colin about their travels. It seemed as though the only people who weren’t speaking were you and Anthony. You looked around the dining table, trying to listen in on all kinds of conversations when your eyes landed on the Viscount. He was already looking at you, a teasing smile on his face and you felt your cheeks warm. You looked away quickly, sipping on your lemonade, never noticing that his eyes were still glued on you.

“You both have to do something about those children of yours,” Lady Danbury commented, her eyebrow raised expectantly. “Do you think they’re fooling anyone at all? I’ve seen how they stole glances from one another. It was not subtle,”

“I know,” Violet agreed. “I’ve seen Anthony look at her. Really, all his siblings seem to know too,”

“Y/N is the same,” your mother added. “She’s always off to run with Anthony. Have you noticed?”

Meanwhile, you were all in the garden. Benedict and Eloise were huddled together in the swings while you were laying on the picnic blanket. You didn’t care if it seemed appropriate. They were the Bridgertons, they never minded. You were looking up at the stars when Anthony blocked the view. A mischievous idea pops inside your head and you extended your arm upwards.

“Anthony, will you help me up?”

Anthony takes your hand but before he helps you, you pulled him down, sending him flat on the space beside you.

“You’re dead!” he exclaims as you run away from him.

“Benedict, help me!” you called, as you increase your speed.

“Don’t you dare, brother,” Anthony threatens, running after you. His heart fills with warmth when he heard your boisterous laugh. You were so carefree and so joyful.

Your screams rang through the garden when Anthony’s arms wrap around your waist. You looked at him, laughing.

“You really shouldn’t be doing that,” he scolds, tickling your sides. “Stop squirming! That’s your punishment!” he laughed, tickling you more. Suddenly, you both stopped, noticing the close proximity between the two of you. Your faces were inches away from each other and you both looked away, coughing. Unknown to you two, his siblings were smiling in amusement.

“Eloise!” you called. “Didn’t you want me to help you with something? Let us go,”

Anthony could only watch while you scurry off with Eloise and his sisters somewhere.

“Scandalous, is it not, brother?” Colin teased which earned him a light shove from the Viscount. His siblings watched him follow you with amusement. Someone has to do something about the two of you.

“What was that?” Eloise asked you when you reached your bedroom.

“Was what?” you feigned innocence. Daphne was with the two of you, sitting on your bed with her eyebrow raised.

“Everybody saw that,” Daphne said. “You know, it’s no harm to tell us about how you feel towards Anthony. The attraction is so obvious!”

“I agree with Daphne,” Eloise added. “While I do think that marriage is a trap, I fully support you marrying into our family. You’re good to us and Daphne’s right. There’s attraction there,”

“Since when did you girls know about attraction?” you mused. “You lot are still young,”

“Seems like we’re less clueless than you are,” Francesca teased, making thr girls giggle.

“Anthony is agitating,” you relent. “He’s kind and playful,”

“What is it that you look for in a husband?” Daphne asked, playing with a dainty necklace that you gifted her before.

“Someone kind and well, I’d love it if it feels like we’ve known each other forever. Sometimes, you get that feeling, you know? Like you’ve known them for a lifetime and everything just falls into place.” you said. “Someone who understands…someone patient. I’d like to marry someone who can make me laugh. I’d like to have a big family and marry someone coming from one…oh, dear,” you muttered. You were describing Anthony Bridgerton.

“That sounds a lot like…”

“Anthony!” Daphne gasped, seeing the man on your doorway. “What are you doing here?”

“Mother is looking for you girls,” he says, looking expectantly at his sisters.

“Anthony, you always ruin the fun!” Eloise glared. “We were having girl talk, if you weren’t aware,”

“It’s alright, Eloise,” Daphne says. “Let us go and let them have a moment of privacy,”

Eloise could only scowl at Anthony while Daphne ushers her out. Anthony breathes a sigh of relief as he looks ar you for permission.

“May I?”

“Of course, Anthony.” you smiled. “Come in. Did you need anything?”

Anthont doesn’t answer. Instead, he locks the door behind him. You gape as he walked nearer, until you were face to face. You were close again and you could feel him.

“Is something the matter?” you asked softly. “Would you tell me?”

“I heard what you told my sisters,” he replied, his voice just as soft. “Is it true? That the man you’re looking for sounds exactly like me?”

“Anthony—“

“If you must know, I feel the same.” he said. “I’ve been putting these emotions away from me because you once said that you were in no rush to get married. I thought that if I waited for you long enough, then you’d want to be married to me but I cannot wait any longer. Did you know how miserable I was when I thought that you and Sir Alfred were courting? I set it off for you but I am a selfish man and I cannot wait any longer. So tell me, is it true?”

You felt your throat constrict when Anthony’s gaze drops on your lips. Should you kiss him right now to convey your emotions?

“It is,” you replied. “But I’ve been keeping my emotions at bay because I feel the same,”

Anthony beams.

“Say it,” he whispers. “Say what you feel.”

“I love you, Anthony,” you replied. Anthony takes your head and kisses you deeply. You felt every emotion there is; inching your face closer to the roughness of his calloused hand. He moves away slowly and lays you down on your bed; him crawling on top of you to attach his lips on yours again.

“I love you too,” he mumbles softly, kissing the soft skin under your ear. Anthony would’ve liked it better if he could hear the soft whimpers that came from you. He trails down to your neck, and then the hemline of your chest. “I love you…so much. Tell me you love me,”

“I love you,” you whine.

“If you let me, I’d still want to court you properly and formally. Will you let me?” he whispered.

“We’re way past courting if you’re kissing me like this,”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Never.”

(If you know who Alfred is based off of, comment to get a follow from me…u deserve it)

cc: @screechingdreamercollectorsblog @pink-lemo @lana-isabelle @evelyn3000 @simran1111 @marrilly @jemimah-b99 @goldeng1rl8 @lovely-him @wreckedsymphony @silvermistt @rexit-mo @chazubagi @freyathehuntress @flourishandblotts-inc @ @bellaiscool @rayodesol97 @munsonology @miyababbby @jesslexi1170

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #anthony bridgerton fluff #anthony bridgerton fanfic #fluff #oneshot #one shot #imagine

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bridgertonopinions · 6 months

Text

The Secrets We Keep: Part Three

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: You are one of Daphne’s oldest friends, which means you are close with the other Bridgerton’s as well. Being in love with the Eldest Bridgerton, Anthony is practically torture. You always thought he didn’t think of you as more than a friend - like a sister almost. Until…..

Rating: M

You were frozen on the dancefloor, unable to speak - unable to move. Going into the final ball of Aubrey Hall, you had expected to be betrothed to Anthony. Yet, here you stood in the sea of the Ton - looking directly at Lord Barlowe. He had declared himself. He had declared himself in front of all of the Ton. Everything was beginning to blur, and you had desperately searched for Anthony. You could hear your mother’s glee, you could hear the clapping - but you just wanted Anthony.

“I-” You managed to choke out, “I just need a bit of air, My Lord.”

You stammered in your bow, bringing your gaze to his - you had suddenly seen the figure you had searched for. There stood Anthony with a stern gaze, his eyes locked to you as you finished. Catching your breath, your feet started towards him.

“She will only need a moment, I’m sure.” You heard your Mother’s nervous laugh as you drifted away.

Out of the sight of the Ton, you watched Anthony sulk to the terrace outside. Confusion had washed over you as he made his best efforts to rid himself of you as he walked outside.

“Anth-”

“Lord Barlowe has outstanding wealth-” Anthony placed his hand to the marbled terrace edge, “He is well known for his manner and his wit.”

“Anthony.” You felt tears well up inside you.

“He has numerous homes, Well enough to keep you more than comfortable.” He kept on, his voice emotionless.

“Anthony.” You repeated, walking towards him - you merely touched his shoulder as a sign, you wanted him to truly hear the desperation in your voice.

“You may call me Viscount.” He scoffed, his voice in a tone you hadn’t recognized in the years you’d known him.

“Anthony.” You spoke more harshly, “Look at me.”

“I cannot look at you.” He sneered, “I need to let you go, I will not be able to live with myself if-”

“If you speak to me of your duty,” You warned, “You and I know each other better than-”

“Maybe we shouldn’t” He turned to you, startling you with his stern demeanor.

“Why are you acting like this?” You felt your voice waiver.

“Because you torment me.” The tears brimmed in his eyes, “He is perfect for you.”

“HE is not.” Your voice raised.

“Do you think I want to hand you off to him?” He sneered, “Do you think that you, you were nothing more than-”

“Damn you,” You sighed, “Don’t do this.”

“It his taking everything in me,” His voice lowered, his frame getting closer to yours, “Not to devour that last shred of innocence. To take you fervently, deeply, entirely.”

You felt your bones go weak, never hearing a man speak in such a manner.

“To taste you.” He whispered, his lips now hovering over yours, “I am a man of honor, and it is taking everything in me to walk away and not take you on this terrace.”

You felt his hot breath trickling your lips, “Then take me.”

Anthony’s lips traced yours, merely dancing with the thought of kissing you. Closing your eyes you had readied yourself.

“I cannot.” He whispered, “We cannot.”

You opened your eyes, watching as he shook his head.

“Anth-”

“Marry him.” He turned away from you, “I shall not propose to you. I will not propose. He is the better option.”

Despair hit your heart as you watched him walk away from your presence. Looking back to the party with tears in your eyes, you knew your purpose - your future was waiting inside.

And your hope had walked away.

Anthony’s POV

It had been three weeks since their engagement was announced among all of the Ton. He felt the pain, day in and day out. She had stayed with him in his dreams, in his nightmares, in everything he did. Every part of him loved her, but he knew he could not have her. The only solace he had was here in his chair, sitting in the Gentleman’s club where no talk of engagements or marriage were to be had. He sat there among his brother’s - on his third scotch.

He decided he would stay here for the rest of his life, as she would be stepping into her lavish carriage - off to flaunt her engagement to Lord Barlowe’s family.

“Anthony-” Colin’s voice murmured.

“Not a word,” Anthony warned in a glare at his second youngest brother.

“Are you su-”

“Not. A. Word.” Anthony now glared at Benedict who was joining in the pointless effort to get him to talk about it. Both of his brother’s sighed, sulking into their own chairs

“-Bastard got away with it.” A man at the next table slurred, “Barlowe is quite a piece of work.”

Anthony’s ears perked as did his brother’s and they quietly shared a look of agreement to listen in to the conversation.

“-Oh I don’t know about that.” A man drunkenly proclaimed, “Heard they’re making their hit tonight. Set the bastard on fire-”

“To think he concocted this whole charade.” More men spoke, Anthony’s blood began to boil.

“If he truly thought a wedding fix his gamblin’ issue. Those men are not to be trifled with let alone refuse to pay your debt” the man scoffed, “Poor lady will be stuck in the midst.”

“God - Wouldnt surprise me if they killed him on the spot, yeh?” The other man replied.

Without hesitation, Anthony rose from his chair - swiftly grabbing his things as he hastily made his way to the door.

“Anthony-” Benedict called out, “Wait.”

“I am going, brother.” Anthony kept walking, his brothers following closely behind.

“Brother, You will get yourself killed.” Colin protested, “At least let us come with you.”

Anthony’s steps stopped, “We shall ready our horses then.”

#anthony bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton #Anthony bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton fanfic

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margowritesthings · 2 years

Text

you made me

pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

word count: 3.3k words

warnings: 18+, angst, smut, oral (r receiving), orgasm

a/n: I honestly dont know where this came from hehe - Ive been so blocked all week and thought Id bash some angst out and got.... carried away whoops. Hope you enjoy!

tagging: @faye-tale @slut4colinbridgerton

My requests are currently open!

Thomas Dorset’s lips were oh so close to your ear, so much so that his breath brushed your lobe when he told you just how stunning you looked tonight. It tickled, but not in the way you were used to. Not that you expected it to. This was, after all, Thomas Dorset. Nobodys breath tickled hot fire across your skin quite like-

No. Not tonight.

You had promised your mama that tonight was about finding a suitor. You had promised yourself that you would stop breaking your own heart day after day waiting. You couldn’t think of him. Not tonight.

The task seemed near impossible when you felt it: the crackle of electricity against the back of your neck, the fair hair standing to attention and a shiver running down your spine. You felt his eyes- Viscount Anthony Bridgerton’s eyes- staring furiously past his friend Mr. Dorset and right at you, wine glass clutched in gloved hands with a vice-like grip. Even from across the dimly lit ballroom, you could see the tension in his jaw as his teeth clenched. His brother Benedict appeared to be talking with him, but Anthony seemed too engrossed in his fury to have even noticed.

Your heart pounded in your chest, seemingly desperate for escape. You couldn’t blame it, part of you wishing you could be swallowed up by the Bridgertons beautiful wooden dance floor, or perhaps kidnapped by pirates and taken to The Americas. Anything to help subdue the hurt you were feeling right now.

Dorset twirled you around as you attempted to mumble out responses to the small talk he was trying his hardest to harvest. Poor Thomas, you thought, watching an actual bead of sweat produce on his forehead from the excursion of conversation with you, he doesn’t have a clue.

How could he? Nobody did. From the outside, there was no way to know your heart belonged to another, which was exactly the problem. You had been with Anthony for almost a year now, in secret, and he had made it obvious he had no intentions with you. You, on the other hand, had to marry. You had to help provide for your mama, there was no other option. Hence why the University chum of the love of your life was bowing his head to you gratefully as the music died down.

You smiled politely, thanking Thomas for the dance, knowing full well there would absolutely not be a second. Your cheeks ache. Your heart hurts. It always was so much harder to maintain a fake smile than a real one.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You breathed the cool air in deeply, as though emerging from being submerged in water for hours, and glanced around the terrace to ensure you were alone. Glancing at your dance card, you grimaced, knowing Viscount Darby would be waiting on the dance floor for you at this very moment. It was most improper to leave him waiting, but after feeling Anthony’s intense glare on you for the last 10 minutes, you were starting to lose the ability to breathe. He hadn’t approached you. Of course he hadn’t, you thought bitterly, gripping onto the vine entwisted railing until your knuckles were white, as if you could somehow transfer pain from the heart to the hand.

Tears pricked at your eyelashes, threatening to fall and you shook your head furiously, trying in vain to will them out of existence. A stray curl fell from your coiffure right in front of your face and you cursed. Again, most improper, but so was falling in love with a man you had been secretly living in complete and utter ruin and sin with for a year. Maybe you were just improper. Perhaps that was why he wouldn’t marry you or court you or anything of the sort.

Whatever it was, it was done, and you weren’t going to find a husband with dishevelled hair like this.

You had been snuck into the Bridgerton house enough times to know that you were only a hallway away from the nearest washroom. It wasn’t perhaps open to the rest of the guests, but you’d much prefer to stay away from anyone else until you looked less like you’d just been compromised. A harsh laugh escaped your throat as you snuck away back into the house. Compromised. Imagine that.

As suspected, the hallway was empty, but you had actually been snuck out through this very entrance, so knew exactly how to get to the washroom. It was three doors down to the left, you just had to go past Anthony’s stud-

“A word, Miss y/l/n?”

You gasped, every muscle in your body somehow simultaneously frozen and on fire. The most nauseating drop of dread fell into the pit of your stomach.

You turned on your heel to the origin of the voice, seeing Anthony leaning against the doorframe in the entrance to his study.

Longing eyes shared a moment together, before you realised there was absolutely nothing you could say that would dissuade Anthony from having this conversation with you. Wordlessly, you walked past him into the office.

The fire was lit and you once more felt like an ant under a magnifying glass, ready to burn on the spot at any moment. The air was suffocating for a second and then even more so as Anthony’s intoxicating scent was pushed into you after locking the door and stepping towards you. He towered over you, almost backing you into the bookshelf as your wide, defiant eyes blinked up at him. You couldn’t speak, having imagined this conversation so many times over so many tears that the real thing didn't feel real at all. Conviction threatened to collapse just after seeing him, but you swore you wouldn’t break. You had to follow your duty, no matter what he had to say.

Anthony’s eyes were dark and you spotted a muscle in his jaw flutter. You tried not to think of the other times you’ve spotted that muscle, while he grit his teeth to try to last longer inside you and keep your precious time together going as long as possible.

“Dorset is not suitable for you.”

You scoffed, all heartbreak halted for a moment as you attempted to fathom his audacity.

“Jealousy isn't becoming of you, my Lord.” you spat, trying not to notice Anthony wincing at the sudden formality between the two of you.

Anthony’s eyebrows knitted together, sadness creeping across his face and defying his angry demeanour.

“Was that not your intention? To make me jealous? Why else would you be dancing with half of London all night, flaunting yourself in front of me!” It was your turn to wince at the raised volume to which he shouted, his accusations of flaunting painful. Truly you had not intended to make him jealous, but you were on a mission to find someone to care for you and your family. Dancing was rather mandatory at a London ball when in want of a husband.

“I beg your pardon, my Lord-” “Anthony.” “-but I fail to see how who I dance with is any of your concern. I am a Lady and you know full well how improper it would be for me to decline an offer of a dance from a gentleman.”

Your breath caught in your throat as Anthony took a step forward. Your back hit the bookshelf gently and strong arms clad in a velvet jacket encased you in.

“And when, exactly, did you start caring about propriety, little siren?” The nickname he had for you was instantly intoxicating and you felt something inside of you crumble and desire pool deep. You were forced to push it all down, absolutely determined.

His breath tickled your skin- exactly how you liked it- as he spoke, whispering deeply “You think Dorset can give you what you want? You think he will know you as I do? Every trick,-”

His tongue flicked against your ear so gently that you could have screamed.

“-every moment, all those depraved, wicked things you love? Only I know those, little siren. Only I know you like you need to be known…”

It would be easy, so easy, to give in, especially as your Anthony’s lips came closer and closer to your-

“No!” You exclaimed, ducking under one of Anthony’s arms to escape. The confusion on his features was a stab to the heart and a punch to the gut all in one. You had never felt such physical, palpable pain for something so intimate and emotional.

“What is going on, y/n?” He demanded, the fury of earlier in the evening returning to his eyes.

“I cannot do this! I cannot do this anymore, Anthony. The time we shared was…” words failed you, unable to do justice to the sheer weight of the time you and Anthony shared together, “Whatever it was, it isn’t sustainable. I need to be with someone I can marry, someone to provide for my family. You have made it more than clear that you do not desire to state your intentions on me, so this… This cannot continue.“

You could almost see the cogs whirring around in Anthony’s brain before completely falling apart, shattering with a silent crash. The tension fell away from his jaw and if it wasn’t so dark in the study you would have sworn you saw his eyes glisten.

And your entire being broke all over again.

“I… I see.” He managed, swallowing hard. “I… I did not realise you needed to… I see.” He trailed off, suddenly unable to meet your hard gaze. Your eyes dropped to the floor too, knowing each second of that intense eye contact was another moment you weren’t sure you could handle.

“I did not mean to… That is to say, I-” “It is fine, Anthony. There is nothing left to say. I shall take my leave, my lord.” And without meeting his gaze again, you attempted to make your way to the door. A hand grasped around your arm stopped you in your tracks.

“Why do you think that? That I should not wish to marry you?” Your eyes met. It was a mistake, you knew that as soon as you noticed the sadness pooled in Anthony’s face. It was unbearable. If it wasn’t for such a stupidly obtuse question, you may have lost some of your resolve.

“I know what I am to you. We had fun, but you hid me away in the shadows, my lord. A Viscount needs a Viscountess he can show off to the ton, do you not think? Not a ruined woman he is ashamed to be seen with.” The tight grip on your skin loosened but didn’t fully subside, Anthony not yet ready to let go, it seemed.

“Y/n… Do you know why I didn’t announce our courtship?” You blinked, and upon realising that was answer enough, Anthony continued, “I felt guilty. I felt I took liberties with you and the ton can be so unforgiving to ladies such as yourself. If they found out what we did? What we shared? You would be ruined, forced to marry me and spend a miserable life with a husband who compromised you… I… I lo- I care for you too much to allow you to settle because of my actions.”

The revelation split the world in half. Or, at least it felt like it did. Your legs felt like jelly and you wished more than almost anything that there was an aptly named fainting chair around for you to drape upon dramatically. Your skin fizzed under Anthony’s grasp and your hairs once again stood on end. Jaw slack, lips trying to form words that refused to be spoken, you tried to figure out if Anthony was telling you just what he thought he was telling you.

“You… You didn’t ruin me, Anthony. The ton may say otherwise but I don’t see it as ruined, I never did. I don’t regret what we did, I didn’t regret it the first time and I haven’t regretted it since. You didn’t ruin me, you made me and if I could live the rest of my life with you I would. I… I…”

At some point, your arm had slipped from Anthony’s grasp. Tears were welling in your eyes and you were both breathing hard, panting. The silence grew and the room got smaller and in that one moment, it became inevitable.

You became engulfed in Bridgerton blue velvet and pulled against Anthony’s warm body, lips clashing with his violently. Books fell to the floor as you managed to push Anthony into the shelf, your tongues angrily dancing together.It was hot, it was needy, it felt as if your futures together lie in this kiss, as long as you could hold on and never let go.

“Y/n…” Anthony breathed through kisses, a hand reaching to push the stray piece of hair that was responsible for this whole exchange behind your ear. “Y/n, y/n, y/n… my darling…” He was breathless, breaking the intense kiss between the two of you to pepper more down your neck. Everything fell apart from the two of you, leaving two souls alone in the world, about to change their lives forever.

You closed your eyes, allowing the tingles to spread across your silky skin with each kiss like ripples in a pond. When your lashes fluttered open again, you had to look down to see Anthony, who was holding onto your hips and was knelt before you, his head inches away from your belly.

It wasn’t the first time you’d seen him knelt before you like this, but it was the first time you were clothed. The fire crackled beside the two of you, illuminating Anthony in the most stunning glow as he snaked a hand around to take your hand.

“What are you-”

“Marry me.”

“What?”

He didn’t seem to even blink, gazing at you with enough intensity to make you feel like some sort of masterpiece in a gallery.

“Marry me. Not because I compromised you, not because you must marry to care for your family, not because I am the only one who truly knows you. Marry me because I love you. Marry me because I am a bloody fool who couldn’t see what was right in front of me. Marry me because you, y/n, made me. Marry me because-”

You couldn’t wait.

“Yes! Yes. Anthony, I- my God, Anthony… Of course I’ll marry you. I love you too.”

Tears of pure joy and absolute unadulterated happiness welled in your eyes as Anthony shot up and whisked you into his arms, spinning you around. He kissed every inch of your face and neck, just whispering your name over and over again until it ceased to sound real. God, it better be real.

Both feet firmly back on the ground, your cheeks were squished together by Anthony’s strong hands as he pulled you back close to him for another kiss. He kissed away the tears falling down your cheeks. He kissed your jaw and your nose and he anchored his fingers into your coiffure, fingers sensually scratching the back of your head. You mewled deliciously, teasing a growl out of Anthony’s chest. Closing the gap between you, he reached around to unbutton your dress expertly, more than used to your intricate ball gowns. It wasn’t long before there was a puddle of silk on the office floor and the skin of your back was exposed to the heat of the fire. It no longer suffocated you, instead fuelling your passion. Every sensation felt like ecstasy at that moment.

Your fiancé led you over to his desk, sitting you down on it as he knelt between your legs. He didn’t break eye contact as your underwear was pulled down your leg slowly. Stockings were peeled off your legs. You were now completely bare, practically dripping onto the desk while Anthony bowed below you. Seeing him knelt there, ready to pleasure you might just have been the hottest thing you’d ever seen. You felt that same tickle of breath between your legs and you fought to stay still.

Torturously slowly, Anthony’s tongue slipped out, licking a line all the way up your slit, dipping into you ever so slightly before flicking over your clit. You cried out, grabbing Anthony’s hand and entangling your fingers with his thick curls.

“Shhh…” He cooed, the vibrations of his hush felt right at your core. Anthony’s hand snaked up your chest, taking care to brush your hardened nipples on the way up as he guided you to lay back onto the papers strewn across his desk. Another long lick bucked your hips into the sky and you tried to muffle your moan by biting onto your arm. He pulled away, never once breaking eye contact with you as his devilishly rakish smirk grew and grew.

After what felt like torturous hours of breath teasing at your exposed, soaked cunt, he finally delved in, kissing and nipping and licking in all the right places. He knew you and he knew just how to reel your coil tighter and tighter until you were grinding against his face chasing release.

“Oh, God, Anthony…” You whined, reaching for the hand that wasn’t holding your chest to the desk so you could hold onto it, feeling as though if you weren’t grounded by Anthony, you might just fly off into the sky.

“Fiancee…” He breathed out, before taking your clit into his mouth and sucking. You couldn’t help but scream his name, damn anyone who may walk past, as you are catapulted over the edge by your Viscount’s expertise. As you came, the sweet suction on your nub pulled and pulled at your centre until tears formed and fell down your cheeks once more. Gentle licks at your dripping juices gently let you back down to Earth as the white hot melting of your mind subsided to a gentle, satisfied fuzziness.

Trying to catch your breath, your lashes fluttered down to between your legs, where Anthony still knelt, looking up at you with all the love and lust in the world. If not for the racing of your heart and rushing of blood in your ears, you would have sworn this was a dream, a fantasy you would wake from. But it wasn’t, emphasised by the slight jolt sent up your spine when Anthony nibbled at your inner thigh .

“So… Do you still wish to marry me? Or shall I return you to your…” Anthony glances down to the floor, picking up the long discarded dance card that must have fallen in your passion, “Mr Bradshaw? Oh, my love… You’re staying here with me, for your toes and sanity if nothing else.” He began peppering kisses over your skin, up your stomach and chest until he was on top of you, catching your lips every time he could manage to get in through the giggles.

“Don’t be cruel!” You blushed as Anthony’s tender kisses moved to your cheeks and nose, “But yes, of course I still wish to marry you. But- oh, God!” You almost shot up, very nearly bashing Anthony in the forehead, “I’ve been gone for so long!! My Mama will-”

“Think you’ve been kidnapped and compromised by a handsome Viscount? Oh, my stars…” Anthony whispered, his eyebrow raised and boyish grin fully formed now your womanhood wasn’t blocking your view. You hit him gently on the chest before pulling him in for another kiss, quite literally in awe of this man and enthralled by how quickly everything had changed.

“And what, pray tell, does this handsome Viscount intend to do with me next?”

“Oh, he intends to absolutely ruin you…”

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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 2 years

Text

Convenience (Anthony Bridgerton x Reader) Smut

Summary: Marrying to fulfill one’s duties is sound in theory when both parties are willing. This does not however take into consideration their wants and needs - emotional and otherwise.

AN: My first Bridgerton fic! I like the married allies to lovers trope, and idiots who love each other but they’re the only ones who don’t know it trope too. So I wrote one for my friend @definitelynotkatesblog. I’ll open requests for Bridgerton blurbs later on, and there’s a Benedict smut coming up some time next week too! That one is for my friend Gabby, who also helped me edit this <3 thanks pal!

Masterlist // Read Story on AO3 and in 1st Person

Content warnings: Smut (Minors DNI/18+ ONLY), cunnilingus, P in V sex, innocent kink if you squint, unrealistic first time cus I love the romanticism. 2nd person POV, she/her pronouns for reader.

Your name: submit What is this?

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

“Welcome home, Lady Bridgerton.”

You accepted the footman’s hand as you stepped down from the carriage, trying to keep your eyes on the butler before you, “Thank you, Ernest.”

Truth be told, you were still a little dizzy even after a long journey spent sobering up. Mostly from the cocktails but the majority of your instability was caused by the conversation. It had proved to be more potent than any combination of liquor and juices at that party.

As you passed the potted white roses that framed Aubrey Hall, you asked Ernest, “Where is my husband?”

“He’s in his study, my lady. Would you like me to fetch him?”

“No, thank you, I’ll go myself.”

Climbing the stairs grew easier with the aid of the bannister. A childish part of you, made worse by the alcohol, dared you to slide down it as a reward for the tiresome trek past bedrooms left vacant until your guests arrived next week. Your mother had hinted that the house was beautiful but too large not to be filled with a few heirs. How disappointed she was whenever you mentioned that children were not yet part of mine or Anthony’s plan.

Your curled hand finally found the oak door in question and gave it a hesitant knock.

“Enter,” replied the office’s occupant’s voice.

Leaning over the desk with the posture of a man absorbed in his work despite the low light, never lifting his eye from the parchment even to dip his quill in ink. His arm had long since memorised its position on the desk. His fingertips propped up his weary head, and even from this angle you could see that his focus bore an intensity you feared you would shrivel beneath. Lucky for you then, that he had never looked upon you with anything but respect and firm gentleness.

You saw the meticulous motif melt to match the flames above the candelabra and his back ironed out its bend as he placed his quill down, “You’re home.”

“Yes,” You received his gaze with a short curtsey, “How are you doing, my Lord?”

“I feel complacent. It’s dreadful.” His fingers flexed, cracks emerging from every joint. The number that reached your ears implied that he had been at this desk since before you left him earlier this evening. He stood up and placed his hands on his hips whilst arching backwards. Whilst worrying about his poor back, carrying all those responsibilities, you still had yet the nerve to ask if he would let you rub his back, to remove each bundle of anxiety. Not that you were afraid of him. It was yourself you feared for, what that intimacy and proximity might do to you.

“I thought we came here to take a break before setting up for the break.”

“Can’t be too far ahead with work. Plus, it will mean I can spend more time with our families when they arrive.” Once his complacency was assuaged, Anthony faced you once again, “How was your evening?”

“Most enjoyable, thank you.”

“I trust you spent our money well.”

With a sly smile, you retrieved the purse which had almost twice the amount Anthony had gifted you in winnings. The corner of Anthony’s mouth pulled up in pride.

“Tabitha is a strong adversary in cards. I’m pleased to know her as a friend for the rest of our social lives,” you said, not holding back the affection you felt for her or the gratification at pulling a smile from Anthony with relative ease.

“Any reason why you interrupt my incredibly intriguing work?”

“To tell you to rest, you’ve done far too much today.” You took a deep breath before speaking again, “And there was something I wanted to discuss with you.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Tabitha declared to the room with her newly filled glass raised, “I shall enjoy this drink like it is my last, and it very well could be.”

“What do you mean?” asked Belinda who was still nursing her first.

The lady relished in the atmosphere she had created as she simpered towards her seat. Finally, after a deep draft of her drink and a refreshing exhale, she revealed, “Francis and I are wanting an heir.”

Immediately shrieks of joy shot between us ladies who fanned ourselves around her. She lapped up the attention with a radiant smile, glowing as if she was already with child. Rightly so. You were truly happy for her and her husband; it was no secret in your group that Tabitha had been wanting to become a mother since she was fifteen.

It took several minutes for the games to resume. Unfortunately your tactics had been distracted so you would likely not win this match. You almost considered it a blessing when, as the conversation of others bearing children, shifted onto you.

“What about you, Y/N? What news of an offspring for you and Lord Bridgerton?” Belinda said as she shuffled the deck.

A coy smile grew upon your lips, knowing well the deal betwixt yourself and your husband, and the fact that no one else did. It was like its own piece of gossip that not one other being was privy to. How delicious to keep it.

“She grins like a cat who got the cream!” Tabitha exaggerated, dragging her chair loudly across the floor, “Lady Whistledown will be most pleased.”

“I’m afraid to disappoint, not her but you, my dear friends. An heir is not on the cards for us just yet.”

“Surely it must be soon, though.” To which, you shook your head and received a few tuts of pity.

But Tabitha raised her glass to the crystal chandelier above you all, as if to toast to the Lord for blessing her with something you did not yet know, “I knew it.”

You looked to the others, who were evidently in the dark too, “What?”

“He’s terrible in bed.”

Everyone once again burst into fits of raucous laughter. Perhaps you all had already had too much to drink. You did not feel as dizzy as they apparently did but you joined in the hilarity with well-masked ignorance.

“What on Earth led you to such a conclusion?” You wiped your non-existent tears and dabbed away the others that were about to fall.

So pleased that you asked, Tabitha launched into her theory, “Well, as we all know, the great Lord Anthony Bridgerton was quite a Rake in his younger days. One might think that all his practice led to being an expert in the bedchambers. But no, he only hired them because they were the only ones who would accept such poor workmanship!

“The cold turkey he took upon himself when he married you, dearest Y/N, was a blessing for him. He did not have to worry about disappointing his wife, and he only had to perform the deed when he decided he would like an heir!”

You had to admit, you were riveted by her speech. She was a talented orator.

Regardless, you defended your husband, “I’m afraid you are very far off.”

“You have consummated your marriage?”

“Yes.” A lie.

“Then confirm or deny my findings as fact.”

That was a rare downside to your marriage. You did not enjoy lying to your friends, or your family. But more than anything, you were well and truly in the dark about what was supposed to happen in a marital bed on the first night. Mother had told you that you would enjoy it whereas Anthony told you that you did not have to do a thing besides sleep beside one another.

“Are you sure this elaborate obsession with how my husband performs is not tied to your own insecurity?”

Hushed gasps were followed by giggles as Tabitha playful raised an eyebrow and her open palm.

“I will hold my hand to God that the things that man does to me in our bedroom are worthy of sending us both to Hell. Yet such things are so enjoyable, it would be worth it!”

Luckily for you, Belinda was just as enthralled, though likely not for the same reasons, “Pray tell, what are these things that he does?”

“For a moment, I thought you were going to ask me to pray for my soul. How delightful you did not.” Tabitha threw her head back with the contents of her glass disappearing down her throat. “First, another drink I think. Then we shall get into the dirty details.”

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Your feet fidgeted in their jewelled shoes. You regretted not coming up with a plan on your way home.

Evidently, your lack of a follow-up conveyed unease so bold that even your husband picked up on it, moving around to the side of his desk as he asked, “Are you alright? Has someone done something to make you uncomfortable?”

“No, not at all.” Perhaps it was best to just come out with it. “You were a rake before we married, correct?”

Anthony’s blithe demeanour was replaced by a dip of his brow and a tensing of his shoulders. His voice came out hard,“I beg your pardon.”

“This is relevant, I promise,” Your hands twisted your skirts, “I was speaking to Tabitha.”

He interrupted with a scoff, “Do you speak about my past private life so freely with everyone you meet? How proper.”

“My lord, I did not speak on this with shame or disgust. I was curious about those activities that led to you being named such. And yet you ask for nothing from me.”

“Are you suggesting I’ve been having affairs to get my gratifications?” Anthony stopped to scoff at such an accusation, pinching the air in front of him as he argued for his innocence. “Our arrangement was made clear to be one of convenience. If maintaining celibacy with you was not to my liking, I would not have agreed to it. I swore to you that you alone would be the woman I be with. And here you are, accusing me of lying!”

“I’m not doubting your word!” You said, your desire to defend yourself buzzing beneath your command.

But no, Anthony was too far gone in his ire to stop now, “Then you are doubting how I could so easily stop being such a rake to marry you!”

“Do not put your insecurities into my mouth. I said no such thing,” You bit back.

“Your naivety in this world leads you to forget yourself.”

“Just as your anger makes you do the same.”

“I doubt you even know what you’re talking about. That’s why you’re asking.”

“You do not even know what I am asking!” you exclaimed, “You cut me off everytime I draw breath to defend myself,”

“Let me enlighten you. You think that I just no longer felt the frustration the second I placed that ring on your finger?” His fingers spread wide apart, as though he wanted to grab your hand, match it to his own where our rings sat. “That I have no itch I wish to scratch like I used to with ease and without attachment?” He crushed the space in his palm, drawing that fist to his chin, “This past year, I have recognised, on several occasions, how simple it would be to find a whore and relieve myself from this torment, when my hand cannot provide me with it. But once that brief tryst is over, then what? The regret would be stronger than any lust that Cupid could condemn me with, because of what I would have done to you. I am a gentleman, and I will keep my word to you if it is the last thing I do on this Earth.”

Needless to say, you were stunned. He bothered with it because that was our entire relationship, but he sounded almost as though he cared. And that was incredibly dangerous to hear.

Instead of addressing that, you swept it under the rug and focused on the logical side of this sudden argument, “You were the one who placed that clause in our agreement.”

“Because you are my wife! And I am your husband. I would do nothing with anyone else in the world if it was not with you.”

Christ he was making this difficult - now and every day onwards.

It led you to regretfully and pathetically say, “Other men have affairs.”

“You think I am on their level, on the ground?”

“I do not. But I was never gifted the privilege of feeling that itch you speak of, nor was I granted the possibility of being able to chase that to completion without the ruin of my life and my family’s. I don’t even know what this feeling is or what it could be cured by!”

It was then you realised you had been speaking far above the normal volume. It was not often that your exasperation got the better of you. Gathering up what remained of your demeanour, and cursing your carelessness, you spun to see if anyone was at the door. It was not ajar, thank goodness, but your stomach twisted at the thought of someone overhearing your outburst. You dared to peer around the door and were met by our empty hallway and no one but the ticking of the grandfather clock to accompany it. You pushed the door closed, inch by inch until the clear click of the lock cracked through the study’s apprehensive atmosphere.

When you turned back, you sucked in a sudden breath. In the time consumed by checking for eavesdroppers, you had forgotten about Anthony and he had taken advantage of you doing so, silently moving closer. The results: should you let this breath go, it may force your chest to touch his. You could reach the doorknob, turn it swiftly with your final words hanging in the air without the answers you sought, if you wished. You did not.

His voice had dropped in volume and emotion, yet there was still that passion behind the hoarse tone, “What you seek to know, it is not an answer or definition you could find in a book.”

You could tell he was teasing you. The man had a snarky streak a mile long and, since knowing him, you had cultivated your own: “Which is why I did not go to the library.”

“It is, however, an answer that could be provided in the library.”

Your focus lowered to his hand that had raised between you. He did not reach much further before he grazed your cheek with the backs of his knuckles, no gloves to protect you from the lingering contact.

“On the breakfast table,” Anthony continued as he reached the corner of your chin. “In the gardens, whether it was our own or during a promenade, inside our carriage before a ball, or during that ball should the atmosphere be right.” Your sensitive lips pursed against his nail; it soon dragged down to rotate your head until it found the centrepiece of furniture in the office.

“Over my desk,” whispered Anthony, and he must have moved closer still because his breath against your ear spiked goosebumps on your skin. “Though traditionally this answer would be given in a bed.”

You held strong to your pride and faced him again, not flinching at how you narrowly missed his face with your lips. “I know that already: a marital bed.”

But that was your mistake: looking at Anthony. As soon as he also turned away from his desk, you were caught like a deer down the crosshairs of a gun. You could feel every miniscule movement, acutely aware that he was calmer and the room quieter. Only now did you decide to complete your honest query.

“Tabitha is trying for a baby. She asked if we were doing the same, which led onto the topic. She talked about…”

A momentary distraction was his flickering gaze, caught between your own stare and your bottom lip. You soothed the roof of your mouth with your clumsy tongue then sallied forth:

“She talked about the things she and her husband do. That is what I wanted to ask you: because I seek answers and you seemed the best to ask. Not because I seek to challenge your past or berate your lack of interest that was made clear when we decided to court.”

Anthony recoiled, barely an inch but you noticed still. That vertical line at the centre of his furrowed brow cast a tiny shadow there, highlighting how gorgeously emotional his face could be, in joy, strife, bemusement and certainly in his study’s soft glow. Why he was frowning at you, you presumed that it was because you had been speaking freely about debaucherous acts your companion had committed - wrongly presumed, as his skin smoothed out the stern stare into one of openness.

“As I said, it is an answer to be given, shown. Demonstrated, and without the irritation of clothes being in the way.” His nail left your jaw, its lightest of scratches tickling down your neck to your shoulder, further until your hands found one another. “Would one such demonstration satisfy your thirst for knowledge?”

You dared to give him a little nod, “I believe so, if my partner was willing to help me with that. I have only one condition.”

“Name it.”

“Do not be cruel to me.”

That look on his face, it had started to fade but it returned now you had given your terms, and stronger than before.

“I could never hurt you. If I did, I would take whatever punishment you deemed fit with no hesitation, for it would be the least of what I deserve for causing you pain.”

Your eyes stung very quickly, and you willed away the painful tears that had sprung from timid hope that he might truly mean that. “Then I agree to be taught.”

“And I agree to teach you.”

He kissed you for the first time since the wedding - a two second peck that ended with a near invisible nod to symbolise your contract was signed. In your seclusion, it was so much different. You wish you had more of an idea of what to do, because all you could do was follow his lead but his lead was so talented at making you feel like the inexperienced fool you were. Your hands struggled in your skirts again whilst his gorgeous hands cradled your face. His lips were as soft as the shade of pink they were whilst proclaiming words of power and adoration in the same day.

When he parted from you, you quickly spoke to prevent a potential silence, “I thought tradition was in bed.”

“A marital bed,” he echoed your words, “We will get to that.”

“We never consummated. Any bed could become our marital bed. I would like to go there now.”

“If that is what my wife wants.”

A squeak shot out as Anthony swept you off your balance and into his arms, his strength masking the effort needed and making it seem like he was scooping up a toddler.

“It is tradition,” he shrugged, kicking open his office door.

With your head on his shoulder, you felt no bumps as he ascended the stairs. Perhaps, if you closed your eyes, you could imagine that this was an act of romance. So instead, you held in your mind what Tabitha had said and kissed up the trunk of Anthony’s neck.

“You continue, I may drop you,” warned Anthony, a notch in his voice that made you smile.

“No you won’t.”

“No,” He said with a sigh, as if reluctant to admit you’d caught him out, “But I may toss you over my shoulder, and what a scandal that would cause if any of our staff saw that.”

Still I planted more affection along the muscle that tensed under his restraint. You wanted him to know that you were grateful for him. Words always failed in describing how accurately you loved him but not when it came to how much you knew he had done for you. He was the best husband you could ever have had, even though he did not love you.

In your room, Anthony lowered you to your feet, and it was then you became very aware of the clothes you both were still wearing. Your skirts swayed about your ankles, mocking you for forgetting the lengthy process it would take to remove them. Surely Anthony would tire before you even finished undoing your hair.

“Is something wrong?” he asked you again.

“No,” and you turned your back to face your vanity. Goodness knows how many pins your maid had hidden in your hair tonight.

You found yourself once again preventing your shock from reaching your expression when Anthony appeared in the reflection, alongside his hot breath on the back of your bare neck and the single stephanotis in a tiny vase adjacent standing before the mirror. His arm slipped around your waist, clamping you against his hip. His forefinger began drawing a circle barely the size of his nail on the thin muslin. His other hand hovered over your hair, rippling over the air like he was pressing piano keys. Now that you thought of it, this anxiety you felt was akin to hearing a piece of music for the first time, not knowing where it went or how long it would last and whether you would like it. Hopefully, according to Tabitha’s descriptions and Anthony’s reaction, you would like this.

It took until Anthony had smoothly removed the first pin from your head that it was confirmed - for certain - that from now on you would only know pleasure. His lips pursed at the shell of your ear and the air smacked gently as he kissed it. Then he found another pin and placed it perpendicular to the first on the vanity. His pattern unfolded, and all the while his finger still traced that circle

As you felt your hair tumbling undone at last, Anthony pinched the end of your fingertips, peeling the glove off. It was lazily folded beside the pins, his hand returning quickly to yours. Your arm went limp, allowing him to bring the union to his lips. You were glad that your neck could not reach around to face him completely; an irrational anxiety of meeting his gaze now told you it would leave you forsaken for the rest of your days.

He let you go. You missed him dearly as he withdrew from his jacket and unthreaded his cravat. A niggling nerve in your chest reminded you that you would probably be a let down for him, for whatever happened next. You had always been called a beautiful bride, not a happy wife, and this was one reason behind the title. However Anthony was unknowingly making an argument against your worry as he unlaced your dress then your stays, his lips lowered to your neck.

Your voice came out strained, the pitch a tad too high to pass as normal, “Had I known this would take so long I would have gotten into my nightgown before coming to your office.”

You could feel Anthony’s strong nose resting on your hairline, “My lady does not find this agreeable?”

“She does,” and you turned to address him the second you felt your stays slack, “But she wants to know more.”

However you were not prepared for the image of Anthony falling to his knees, his grip on your body dragging the dress with him. All the while, he looked at your face. Not your shoulders pulsing up and down with every breath, or your stomach that he kissed with his hands at the bottom of your stays that bent like petals of a blooming flower to his will. Your hands in his hair, not to control but encourage, held him close and mourned the loss as he sat on his heels. But not for long were you parted. He freed you from your shoes, your stockings, one foot then the other, and after the second was discarded he lifted your leg over his shoulder. Your vanity provided very little support in this trying time, but you managed to find your balance. Anthony made this more difficult when he drew in a deep inhale from what was hidden beneath your drawers.

He sighed like a tenor, then like a bass he told you, “Lay down on our bed.”

Our bed.

Only for tonight, you reminded yourself as he moved away and both your feet tread over the carpet. Tomorrow it will be yours and yours alone once more. But you will enjoy this while you can.

You listened to his words dutifully and did your best to relax. You failed when you tried deciding on a side of the bed, taking the walk from the vanity to the bed to make. You landed in the middle - only for Anthony to take you by your ankles and drag you until your bottom perched on the edge. Your eyes found him without his shirt or waistcoat, and they found him very pleasing. The sparse hair that covered his pectorals rose and fell with the anticipation of parting your legs and guiding your drawers away from you.

The way he stared froze you right down to your bones, yet you felt no desire to cover yourself. In fact, a sentiment of shyness only made you want to be the subject of his sight more. Your wish was granted as he rested between your thighs, removing your hand that tried to hide your mouth and clasping it in his upon your stomach, his bicep curved around your thigh to reach you.

When he first kissed between your legs, your body knew instantly that his technique was unforgotten after his year’s abstinence. His effect was heavy and something he kept consistent, licking like flames at your sex with sinful results flying from your vocal cords and tingling in your belly. He was grasping at your hand and your thigh like you would try to leave. You could not think of doing anything worse. Even if you were to snap your legs shut and suffocate him against you, the contented expression on his face led you to infer he would die a happy man.

You could not bear to stare into those gorgeously brown eyes too much, but you could not look away - or close your eyes without opening them seconds later. Every lick fired through you like a pistol at dawn. Your ears zeroed in on his tongue against a spot built for your divine worship, for there was nothing else in the world. Nothing to smell besides the remnants of your perfume mingling with the sweat he’d worked up in you.

Getting overwhelming, but in this short time you had become addicted to his touch. You didn’t know what to do with yourself, except to keep him there. Your legs ensured this by closing against his ears.

“Anthony,” You sighed, receiving his hummed response in agonising rapture. Your chest pushed itself off the bed with a gasp at the push of his fingers inside you. Crescents embedded into Anthony’s hand from your nails as you surrendered to him utterly.

Your legs were shaking as they dangled over the cliff face that was your bed. In the faint recesses of your mind, you recognised Anthony using your hand as an anchor to climb over you. He kissed you with your tart taste fresh on his tongue.

“I knew you’d be sweet,” Anthony whispered against your mouth.

Sinking back into consciousness and into the mattress with your husband above you, you do not think you have ever been so at peace. It was like you were looking down at yourself, your own guardian angel, while you touched Anthony’s chest over the sparse hairs that decorated him.

“This is about us,” and you licked your lips in the minute space between you, “I want you to feel good too.”

“With you? I feel like anything is possible, and that feels amazing.” And he rocked against you, his tongue dipping into your mouth.

A whine at the roof of your mouth both celebrated his delectation and cried for your future senses. His words were likely as a result of your euphoria, because you too felt like anything was possible. Except that he could love you at all, let alone as much as you loved him.

“It took two for this agreement,” You reminded him.

“And I certainly find this agreeable. Will you allow me to continue?”

“If you didn’t, I would kick you out and finish the job myself.”

Anthony’s teeth glinted wickedly in the candlelight, “Now we can’t have that.”

In a moment of pure rebellion, your hand stroked over his undergarments and you watched his strong expression falter. His breath skidded to a halt, his throat pulsing with a hard swallow.

“Not so naive,” Anthony said, breathless as if he’d just jogged about the estate. He had more than the energy after that though, ripping off his trousers and undergarments and lifting you with swift daintiness into the pillows.

You tried not to stare or feel intimidated by his stiff cock as you both settled, “I’m learning well then.”

“You may be my favourite student.”

And he pushed aside some hair that had fallen into your face. The humour dissipated from his eyes as he borrowed a pillow from behind you. When he’d propped it beneath your bottom, he said your name.

“Yes?” You did not expect your voice to emerge at all, let alone sounding dreamy. If an hour ago you had heard yourself, you would have felt pure shame for being so openly lovestruck.

“I must be honest with you: I do not intend to be cruel, I have worked your cunt so that it should not hurt.but if it does, it’s natural and it will fade soon.”

His taboo did not cause you to clutch at your chest. It was his true concern and eyes quivering with candour against the flickering low light while he came back to you that nearly stopped your thudding heart.

Your legs fell open for him and your hands clasped the back of his neck, “This is not cruelty. You said yourself, this is natural. I asked you to show me the answers.”

“You did,” Anthony said as he processed your words, “And you must know that I only want you to have the best.”

“I do have the best; I have you.”

Perhaps you would have regretted revealing a little of your true feelings more, had it not been for your body seizing at his cock pressing up to where he had licked just a minute ago. He stroked it up and down before teasing the nerves that made you jolt with sharp sudden pleasure. With that distraction, you felt him fill you more and more until you worried you would burst.

“It’s ok,” coaxed Anthony, “Y/N, I’ve got you.”

How heavenly your name dripped off his tongue. Your fingers dug into his shoulders. Soon, he was snug against you and you knew you would never be more lonely than from the moment you inevitably parted again.

There was a moment of gentle release as he eased away, then he thrust into you to prove that you were accustomed to his girth. It was the most glorious rush you’d ever experienced. His elbows dug into the mattress either side of you, and your arms hooked beneath his in a determined act to keep his sculpted self as close as possible, no matter how much that would hinder his movements. Hearing his every breath puncture the long gone stillness brought more excitement than any cheering or gossip from your night out. Gasps sharpened into pointed pants and your mouths gave up any attempts at a civilised kiss.

Anthony puffed, “I don’t want to stop, but if I stay inside you, I will not be able to again. And you may become pregnant.”

So that was how it worked. How wonderful.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, and your cunt squeezed around his cock. The noise that tripped out his parted lips only made you tighten again. His head fell to the space beside yours.

“Stay inside me. Please, Anthony.”

Warm like freshly dripped wax onto a letter, Anthony’s flushed cheek dragged on yours as he lifted his head to face you. His eyes dove straight into yours, daring you to attempt to look away. But you did not want to and held his gaze steady. Until he thrust into you deeply and you lost all sense of self control once more.

A familiar feeling began taking hold of you again. You attempted to not go rigid like a board, but Anthony seemed to encourage it, manipulating his own body to make up for what you could not do. Your chest was so full of emotion that you had to shout as you two writhed against one another. His murmured praise incited the climax within you, guiding you through with whispers of how good you were for him that only enhanced what joy coursed through your body. Even as you finished and wearily clung to him, Anthony was determined to stay within you just a little longer. His lips kissed yours until you were drunk on him and deprived of sweet air.

Your lungs called for reprieve as the mattress lifted you and time resumed normality. Your eyes shot open to see Anthony making his way towards his discarded clothes. Your hand clutched at his wrist and without shame you pleaded:

“Don’t leave me.”

Despite the heat that swarmed in the bed, a chill shot through your veins as his hand locked with yours. Anthony placed them down on the bed, using it as a prop to crawl over until he was an inch from your face.

“I will be back in a moment. Believe me, I have no intention of staying away from you longer than I need to.”

Your nose grazed his before he withdrew from you and the room, just his shirt pulled over his handsome body. With the door eased shut, you rolled onto your side and folded your knees to your chest. You still felt incredible, but you also felt it slipping like a dream after the dreamer awakens. Was this the guilt Anthony spoke of, the aftermath of giving into your lust?

You had already spent your last year craving what you could not have. Now you knew completely what you were missing on and you could catalogue your losses in an encyclopaedia, or a story to ward away those thinking they were immune to charming men.

Something else to add to your tale was Anthony’s return. He had collected a rouge robe as well as a tray laden with fruit and a water pitcher. Inside the fruit bowl, you saw your favourites filling it to the brim.

Still drunk on our degeneracy, you tentatively jested, “You are not expecting me to get pregnancy cravings so soon, are you?”

Watching those creases appear alongside his smile so effortlessly filled you with an ephemeral pride. Your husband slipped beneath the covers with you, his robe discarded, the tray beside him as he lured you over into his naked chest. Your head cautiously lowered against his pectoral but was put at ease when Anthony fed you the first strawberry. Your lips, stained by the red fleshy fruit, almost dared to close around his fingers before they could pluck the leaves and stem away. But you let them go dispose of the greenery and listened to his teeth tear into a peach.

He wiped his mouth free from the fruit’s juice, “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking, if I knew this was what would happen after our wedding day, I would not have simply slept beside you.”

“I did not know you weren’t aware.”

“That’s ok. Neither did I.”

“I am sorry for attacking you so viciously this evening.”

“I asked for you to.”

He laughed again at your jokes, and it carried on through some of his words until he found seriousness again, “I meant before, when you first requested to speak to me.”

“Oh. It’s alright.”

“It’s not. I was vile to you due to my own misunderstanding. From now onwards I’ll hear you out completely before I make my judgement, as I always should have done.”

With that, he tossed a piece of pomegranate towards his mouth. It narrowly missed and hit him on the nose. The fruit rolled down the valley of where your bodies met. Your laughter was locked behind pressed lips as you looked up at Anthony, his flustered eyes fluttering to fan his red cheeks.

“Pretend you did not see that,” He said, probably intending it to be a stern instruction. However, as he recovered it, you had to free a few guffaws. Thankfully he took it on the chin and still landed the next attempt perfectly.

Anthony left you once more but only to blow out the candles, once you had finished your fruit and your water. He tucked you in, whispering well wishes into the night until he drifted off with his arm around your waist. He knew your body better than you did - not hard to achieve but he still pulled out the stops to pretend he was having a good time with your first. But he should have known better. How would you be able to sleep when you were still touching, each instance of you connecting making your mind race? Thank the Lord he did not know your mind at all. Had he even grasped onto the inkling what this meant to you, he would have run for the hills.

Sliding out from under his arm and the covers, you dropped to the carpet. Your exposure shot coolness through your spine, and it froze into ice when you heard a shuffle of the bedclothes. Sitting up, you caught the last movement of Anthony’s hand fanning across the space you had left, its warmth soon to fade. His nose wrinkled with a soothing inhale and he settled back into slumber. Every time you’ve seen his face, you have thought “he could not be more beautiful”. Now, it was no different.

You withdrew your nightgown from the wardrobe, your teeth gritted at every semblance of sound that the drawer made. With it over your head and buttoned up, you attempted to rest in one of the spare rooms. The nightgown was removed within five minutes of resting in the unfamiliar sheets. Slumber escaped you until the earliest of hours brought the sun back over the horizon and birds began to sing once more. Your hollow heartbreak kept you company for all the night. Now you had a song to listen to, to pass the time.

Just as you were drifting off, the ethereal beauty of a quiet morning was shattered by the slamming of the bedroom door. Your body threw itself to sit up, clutching the bedsheets to your chest, as Anthony billowed into the room with his robe dramatically flying behind him like it was caught in a hurricane.

“My lord!” You exclaimed.

The door slammed shut behind Anthony, “Oh it’s not as if I haven’t seen you like this before!”

His long strides brought him to your side on the bed. He stole your hands away from the blankets; you did not attempt to retrieve them, even as the bedsheets fell. You could not muster the energy to hide from him. Not physically, not after a night of sleepless self loathing and not after a taste of what you were missing out on.

Anthony’s eyes sought yours to ask, “Why did you leave?”

“The fault is mine, I allowed it and I should not have.”

“No, we both allowed it. We welcomed it.”

“But the agreement should be rendered null.”

His face looked stricken, “Was I cruel to you? I apologise for whatever I di-”

“No, you agreed to something without knowing the complete terms.”

His hands still held you firm.

“What did you fail to inform me of?”

That was what led me to be completely honest with him at last.

“We never included a clause about falling in love,” You said hoarsely.

Watching the patience drain from his face into despair hiding behind duty was one of the worst experiences of your life. His fingers went slack and you missed their desperate grip instantly. Your gut twisted and you wished to bring up every feeling you had until you were void of tears and all.

Anthony looked away, his eyelids fluttering a few times before he answered in a taut tone, “I see.”

“I’m sorry,” You said, biting the inside of your lip to stop it from quivering.

“It is you who should forgive me, for my silence. I’m just struggling to digest this, and certainly after last night.”

“Take all the time you need, and know that I expect nothing from you in return.”

Anthony stated bluntly “While you remain visibly vexed.”

“Falling in love was anything but convenient, certainly when it is unrequited.”

“And more so because I am keeping you from him.”

Those prickling tears in your eyes ceased, “What?”

“Do I know him, this man you love?”

“You misunderstand.” He still wouldn’t face you. That almost made this easier. If he had been looking, you might have lied and pretended to love an imaginary person instead of continuing your admission. “You are a good man, son, brother, uncle, and most of all husband. I know you do not care for embroidery yet you listen to me seethe about a troublesome project, offer queries and encouragement, then you store it in that already bustling brain of yours because you respect me. You heard my terms for our marriage, you agreed without changing an item! You are with me, not just in public but in private. All of those acts between us before our peers are honest except the veil I wear to hide how much I adore you. So look in a mirror or my eyes and you will know the man I love.”

At a snail’s pace, Anthony raised his head. You could see his pupils against his umber irises when they were struck by the early sunlight, though he did not flinch away. Those hypnotising eyes burned you, searching for something on your face and never once straying, nor making you uncomfortable.

“You speak the truth?” He said lowly.

“After hiding it for so long, from you and myself sometimes, yes.” Then it was your turn to hold his hands through your conversation, “I reiterate that I expect nothing from you in return. At your will, I should return to who I was a day ago and we can forget this ever happened.”

“What if I don’t want to forget?” said Anthony, so fast that you would have stumbled into them had he not pulled you along for the rest of his train of thought. “Why have you conjured some fantasy that I do not enjoy you or your body? What we did last night, I did not do out of duty, not out of our arrangement, but out of pure and unadulterated love for you, my wife.”

As his words sucked all air from the room, both your hands pushed against your mouth to keep what remaining breath you had inside your lungs just there. But the grin behind them could not be fought. Anthony held your shaking shoulders and you bent into him, giggling and sniffing as he rocked me.

At your first full inhale, you asked, “You love me?”

Tilting your chin up so he could see you clearly once more, Anthony replied, “I love you.”

You anchored yourself on his arm, your cheeks sore with their smile, “And I love you too.”

That pain was worth it to see his splendent expression light up with a relieved exhale as he tipped his head against yours.

Your minor meltdown still managed to trip you over some syllables as you replied to Anthony’s declaration, “I’ve wasted so much time and effort pretending I didn’t. I suppose I thought it would be uncomplicated to assume the worst and be right, than to assume the best and be wrong.”

“We are too alike in that regard.” Anthony shifted closer until you sat over his lap, “I have been foolish to think never falling in love would free us from heartbreak. I’ve hurt you with my distance; you would have been free if I had not concealed it.”

He stopped to touch your cheeks. In your enrapturement, you’d failed to notice your vision growing blurry again or the tears that were ultimately permitted to fall.

His words treated you as delicately as he did, “And I do not want to resist you or pretend that I do - not now or again. You have always met my needs and wants as I did for you, since we first met. I cannot believe that it isn’t fate that we both give into our love together, that it would not be worth all the heartache in the world to feel your lips on mine just once more.”

“Even after our argument?”

“Our argument led to the most amazing lovemaking, therefore I believe I can see past that.”

The remaining relief you had been holding back seeped through in your tears and stained his hands. You hiccuped unattractively yet Anthony looked upon you like you were his God given grace.

“I have been a fool too,” You sighed, but the thumb on Anthony’s hand holding your face stamped its print on your lips.

“I refuse to listen to you berate yourself anymore. Too much of that nonsense have I listened to in the last twenty four hours.”

Lifting that very thumb away, you leaned your head against his, “Fine, but only because you will not interrupt me again lest you go back on your word.”

“You are right,” Anthony said with a gleeful tilt, “Speak from your mind and from your heart until there is nothing left. I must know what goes on in your impossible soul.”

“I’m not sure words do them justice.”

“Then act on their whim.”

Fear of rejection was a powerful thing, and so was you, now that you had overcome it. Eagerness straddled you over his lap to kiss him as you did last night. It proved to be a little more difficult with your smiles interrupting, and your giggling too when Anthony fell back onto the bed - taking you with him. Your noses bumped awkwardly as you collided with the rumpled bed sheets.

“My wife, mother to our future children. Let’s go back to our bed,” requested Anthony between the pecks you littered across his mouth.

“Not your desk?” Our laughter tickled in our kiss, emerging in our throats when Anthony sat us up and lifted you once more into his arms, this time with your legs wrapped about his hips. With a hand in his hair and the other on his chest, you realised that he was not wearing anything beneath his robe.

“Another lesson for another day. Our bed is closer.”

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton fanfic #anthony bridgerton smut #bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton smut #smut #my writing #r: female #wc: >5k

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hiatuswhore · 9 months

Text

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑀𝑜𝓊𝓉𝒽𝓎 𝒪𝓃𝑒 𝐼𝒱 — 𝐵𝓇𝒾𝒹𝑔𝑒𝓇𝓉𝑜𝓃

♕ A/N: I am so sorry for just disappearing on this fic. I love this fic but I’ve been struggling with writers block BADLY. My think tank is broken or something. So since I disappeared for so long the word count is double the usual. Thanks for your patience. Feedback please!

♕ SUMMARY: Oh, the most scandalous season of the year has come to pass. After quite the successful year for the Bridgerton’s the eldest son plans to throw his hat in the ring. Concurrently the Sharma sisters do just the same. One a spinster, the other hopeful romantic, and the middle daughter? What can be said about such a force that is not said when she enters the room. Good luck to all who pursue her.

♕ WORD COUNT: 17.6K

♕ WARNINGS: None

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THE NIGHT SKY SITS HIGH UP WITH A COOL BREEZE THROUGH THE WINDOW. Sitting alone in front of a vanity worth more than most of your things combined, you sit in the mirror, brushing your hair, toying with the idea of a marriage to William. It’s ideal—more than ideal, it comes with everything you want in life. An out from society, the means to do as you please, but still, it burdens you with a new level of expectations and responsibilities. No matter how much the choice glitters, it’s not gold. You cannot bring yourself to give him an answer.

Opening your room door slowly, you poke your head out quietly, scanning the corridor. At the sight of no one and the low hum of everyone to their own devices, you move cautiously through the hall. The stairs proved to be their own obstacle, with every creak threatening to reveal your scheming. Your end goal? The back porch, certain a moment beneath the stars.

“—you cannot be serious!” Stopping short, the back door sits in view a mere few steps away, but William’s voice halts your movement. The closed-door staring back at you, the persistent padding of the floor matching the faint shadow beneath hastily moving back and forth.

“Spare me, William! You speak on speculation alone!” Anthony seethes, his attempts to whisper clashing with his own frustration. A scandal? You want to listen, to cling to any information the private conversation offers, but the foyer lacks any semblance of coverage. It would only take one person opening the door to reveal your highly inappropriate snooping. As a guest of the Bridgertons, no good would come from this kind of trouble. You cast the moment to the back of your mind, acknowledging that you have more complicated matters than two Englishmen in a row.

Rising early the following day. Typically the beaming sun through the curtains and the loud chirping of birds result in dramatic whines and huffs. Not today. Before your mother or even Lady Danbury can rise to object, you ask Lady Violet to use the driver to see some of the countryside. Her nescience to your troublesome nature granting you jovial approval.

In the carriage, you rest your arms on the open window, the cool air blowing across your skin. The sun warms your face as you melt into the calm that comes with endless farmland.

“Excuse me, sir. Can you pull over, please?” You call out. The vibrant green shines with a sea of endless flowers, assuring John, the driver, that you will soon return while entering the open field. Walking through the grass, you march without a destination. Occasionally swatting away a fly or bug, your smile remains.

“Appa, look at this,” You whisper, eyes shining at the flowers around you. John’s no longer in sight. You are not positive about how far you have journeyed when you turn around. Without a worry, you continue back straight from the direction you came. After a long while, the lack of the familiar carriage comes with a wave of ambivalence. The silence continues on as a frown settles on your face, the terrain on a continuous loop.

Scolding your inability to follow any directions ever given to you. You drag your feet huffing at the uncomfortable rub of your boots. The concept of time now an illusion. Your mind says it’s been hours as your feet cry days. You thank the heavens above at the sound of a horse until you see who rides toward you with a pointed look.

“Must you always be so erratic? William and I have been searching for you for hours! Do tell, how does one get lost with no turns?” Anthony exclaims, stopping expertly at your side. You wipe the discomfort from your face as you cross your arms in front of your chest.

“First, I’ll have you know that I am not lost. Secondly, no one asked you to come searching for me!” Anthony points out the ways off you are from where the carriage let you out. Falling silent, you roll your eyes before holding out your hand to join Anthony on the horse.

“You can’t be seen riding on the back of my horse. It would be improper,” He says, keeping your hand out; you narrow your eyes at his words, “So, to be clear, you journeyed out here with no alternative of getting me to the estate? Have you come only to chastise me, Mother?”

“If you put it like that, then, of course, it sounds foolish,” Anthony grumbles, your right eye twitching as you fight the urge to push him off the horse, “Because it is foolish! Now spare me your silly formalities and help me up!”

His nose scrunches as a sigh leaves him. Taking your hand and pulling you up, he utilizes the opportunity to lecture you on every worst-case scenario. You secure your arms around his lower back and lean your head on his shoulder. He drones about the dangers of the particular area and how fortunate nothing occurred. While he continues listing every action of yours he deems a nuisance, you soak in the release of the tensions on your legs and feet. Before you know it, his words and the smooth trot of the horse lull you away.

“—are you even listening? Of course, you are not. Why would (Y/n) Sharma listen to anyone else other than herself?” Anthony says, glancing on his shoulder to find your eyes closed.

“Don’t be such a boorish oaf. It’s been a phenomenal day,” Yawning, you find yourself nuzzling further into the back of his shoulder as if nothing else matters. Anthony lets out a dry chuckle, keeping his focus ahead as his mind pushes William’s confession to the back of his thoughts.

Before you know it, Aubrey Hall stands in view like your saving grace. Daphne steps through the doors as Anthony helps you down from the horse. Her eyebrows furrow as she carefully eyes the two of you, “No matter how painfully dull I find you, I must say thank you for coming to get me. Repeat that to anyone and I’ll deny it to my dying breath.”

“I expect nothing less from you, Miss Sharma,” Anthony nods his head at your thank you as Daphne lingers by the steps. Her eyebrows furrow at the two of you as her mind generates connections she previously presumed to be false.

“(Y/n) Sharma! Have you gone mad? I was worried sick, my child,” Your mother rushes down the stairs pulling you into a tight hug. While relief fills her, it subsides as she pulls back from the hug with a pointed stare. “What have you done?”

“If I may, Lady Mary? It appears our driver just made haste. Miss Sharma was only a little ways off of the path. Indeed partaking in a breathtaking but safe area of the countryside,” You turn to Anthony as he speaks with a charming smile. His easygoing nature saves you from a long lecture you would have inevitably received from your mother.

“Well, then, my apologies, dearest. Lord Bridgerton, please accept my utmost gratitude for ensuring my daughters' safe return,” Lady Mary says as she takes your arms. She excuses the two of you with a polite smile before dragging you toward the house. You look back at Anthony with narrowed eyes, but he only offers a sardonic smile with a mocking wave. You are certain his help does not come without cost.

“Though Lord Bridgerton vouches for the safety of your insolence, you know better (Y/n)!” Your mother sighs with her back on the door.

“Mama, I did not wish to upset anyone. I just wanted to explore the countryside. You should have seen it. It was beautiful!” You sit on the edge of the bed as your mind fills with the flowers splintering in your memory. The reds, blues, and purples blending in your mind, the ache of your feet long gone.

“My darling, can we please just focus on ensuring tonight’s dinner goes without shenanigans?” Mary sighs, holding her composure she stares at you with patient eyes. “I need your word that while we are here as guests, you will do everything possible to ensure this visit goes smoothly. For Edwina’s sake.”

“Mama, it was only—“ You huff, but as she shakes her head, asking only for your word. “Of course, Mama. I want to make clear I would never do anything to jeopardize our family or Edwina’s happiness. I need to know you know that?”

Mary’s shoulders fall as she takes in your glassy-eyed gaze. She joins you on the edge of the bed, taking both your cheeks in her hand. “(Y/n) I know you believe that, but you fail to remember your actions have consequences. When it is just us, I am more than okay with your adventurousness. But here, my wildflower child is a different world than you know. One wrong move, and it can ruin us all.”

The heaviness of her words does not come without consequence. Even long after your mother leaves you, her words do not. The arrival of dinner does not allow you to dwell on the implications of your mothers' words. You sit between Colin and Benedict, with Kate and Eloise across from you.

“This room is exceptionally well-lit. Have you noticed, Col? How bout you, Lady (Y/n)? The twinkles of the candles, it’s as if—we sit among the stars,” Benedict speaks in awe that exceeds the contents of his words—amusement dances across your face as Colin's eyes continuously bounce to his mother and back to Benedict.

“What is wrong with you?” Eloise questions, mirroring your expression as she eyes her elder brother.

“I was just telling Benedict how brilliant the stars were in Greece,” Colin says as if his mind formulates his sentence as it leaves him.

“No, you weren—“ You raise an eyebrow as Colin lightly kicks your shin. The rest of the table watches the pause between the two of you. Colin offers you a pleading smile as you shake your head, shielding your lips with your glass. “You should know that I weaponize my silence. The cost is simple. Why is Benedict acting odd?”

“I gave him a powder that I acquired from my travels. He took far too much of it,” Colin says, earning a loud laugh that draws the attention of the rest of the table. You quickly recover by bringing your glass to your lips again; meeting William’s gaze, he raises an eyebrow. Shrugging your shoulders, you tilt your head toward Benedict until William’s eyes move to the left of you. The longer you stare at the Bridgerton, the more apparent his altered state appears.

“Are you enjoying your time here, Miss Edwina?” Daphne asks, diverting the attention to the opposite end of the table. Edwina sits with Colin to her right and Anthony to her left. Daphne sits across from her with Anthony to her left and William to her right.

“I am, very much. The buzz of the city is thrilling indeed, but I quite enjoy the peace of the country,” Edwina smiles brightly as most of the table watches her. Your attention more on Benedict, who continues quietly in your ear about the room's beauty. Lady Danbury watches you quietly with Kate at her left and Lady Violet at her right. You silently thank whoever made the seating arrangements as your mother sits beside Benedict, unable to eye you the entire night.

“As do I. Though I dare say. It is not quite so peaceful with my entire family in residence,” Anthony points out. Rolling your eyes, you find William chuckling softly, his eyes on you.

“Certainly, I cannot compare my family to your seven brothers and sisters, but you have all become familiar with my wonderfully chaotic sister (Y/n). Kate and I were known to be a handful growing up, but Mama always had her hands full with (Y/n),” Edwina says, leaning forward to catch her gaze; you offer a playful wink. Kate does not miss the opportunity to share when you decided you no longer desired the hair on your head.

“Not this again,” You whine, shaking your head as Kate details how you excitedly carried your hair in your hand.

“I had never seen Mama become so flustered so rapidly. She was endlessly chasing (Y/n) throughout our home,” Edwina details as a chorus of laughter fills the table. Daphne's giggles cease as William huffs to the right of her. She follows his gaze to her left. A smile ghosts on Anthony’s lips as he watches how you laugh sheepishly. Anthony’s eyes focus on you, a nostalgic glint in his eyes,

“(Y/n) was such a fast child I could rarely catch her when she was determined to not be caught,” Your mother smiles, her eyes glazing over as if she leaves the dinner table to relive that memory. The story lacks the part where your father caught you. Despite your upset mother, he only laughed. Not a simple laugh, one without end—he laughed so hard the rest of you could not help but follow suit.

“In seriousness, both Kate and (Y/n) bear heavy responsibilities for our family. (Y/n) has never allowed any moment, no matter how hard in our lives to go without some silver lining. If anyone can help you through a tough time, it’s her. We’d have never survived the tough days without her,” Edwina continues as you look to find her gaze, only to find Anthony’s. It lasts seconds as you roll your eyes at him before looking at your sister. A chuckle leaves his lips as he fails to hear Edwina talk about Kate. Daphne watches warily as William silently watches his oblivious best friend.

“That sounds remarkably similar to you, Anthony,” Daphne says, watching as her brother snaps back into the conversation, “Much familial responsibility to bear, indeed.”

Kate catches Daphne's knowing gaze, and the two watch each other silently for several seconds. You sit watching Colin fail to keep Benedict in check, knocking over his glass and covering his face. When he removes his hand, it reveals a child-like grin, sheer contentment.

“Benedict dear, you alarm our guests,” Lady Violet says with the grace of a seasoned noble. A perfect blend of warmth and patronization. You know that tone all too well.

“Not at all,” Kate says as you offer a giant smile to Lady Violet. The sound of Lady Danbury’s fork against her glass commands the room's attention.

“It is time for a toast,” Lady Danbury says. A smooth distraction, chuckling, you glance at Benedict.

“A good idea. To cheer our guests,” Lady Violet says as your mother beams happily at the idea. It’s clear what they hope to achieve at this dinner, and you find it rather nauseating how they puppeteer it all.

“Or to tend to other pressing matters,” Lady Danbury's words are everything short of subtle. The attention turns to Anthony and Edwina quickly. Kate makes eye contact with Daphne, then with you. While you look unfazed by the inevitable purpose of this invitation, it’s clear Kate seeks a haste exit.

“My—I believe my sisters and I have grown weary,” Kate says. A sharp kick to your shin blocks your attempts to deny her words as you hiss quietly.

“Whatever you gave Benedict, you might need to give it to Kate,” You whisper to Colin, who turns to your sister. She holds her wine close to her lips as her fingers drum against the glass. Her posture’s stiff as she looks at Anthony as if her eyes can strike him dead.

“A toast. Yes,” Anthony rises from the head of the table as you all raise your glasses. “My sincere gratitude to the Sharmas for joining us. It has been splendid having you here to witness what is now my second annual loss at Pall-Mall. Not to be repeated, I assure you. And my special gratitude to Miss Edwina. It has certainly been a privilege to truly make your acquaintance these past few days. In fact, I believe there is a question I would like to ask you.”

You watch as most of the table sits at the very edge of their seats as Anthony pauses. Your eyes cut to Daphne, your eyebrows furrowing at the sight. Daphne steals glances at William, whose lips press tight as he stares at Anthony with—confusion? Kate shares Daphne’s weary expression, and you furrow your eyebrows as something does not quite click. Anthony now stands with his hands clasped behind his back, scanning the room. His eyes find your own, furthering your confusion as he pauses for a second. Anthony moves his gaze to William, and the two appear to speak to one another without saying a single word.

“I should like to uh—I should like to ask you please refrain from telling anyone back in London about yesterday's loss. I fear the harm to my reputation would simply be too great,” Awkward chuckles chorus through the room, but you glare daggers at the Viscount. You may not know classic literature well or Latin, but you know your sisters. The fall of Edwina’s face appears subtle, but the sting of Anthony’s words are unmistakable. Daphne and Kate let out sighs of relief as William stares at you. You cannot decipher what he contemplates, but you are sure it has something to do with Kate, Daphne, and Anthony. Dinner continues, and the end cannot come fast enough.

Finally, just your sisters and yourself. Kate rubs Edwina’s head as you sit without words. Deep frown lines crease Edwina’s forehead, her eyes misty, and you are confident that her self-scrutiny eats away at her insides.

“You must know you did nothing wrong,” Kate dares to say, but Edwina’s words are sharp as she speaks almost instantly, “I must have done something. The rest of the ton are now set to join us in the country. Surely, if the Viscount were to propose, he’d have done it by now. Yes?”

“Edwina, you are putting far too much pressure on yourself. You are wonderful, and they know it,” You take her hand in both your own, bringing it up to your lips.

“That is easy for you to say. People always love you, no matter where you go. You were proposed to by a man in line for the throne of England, Lady Violet dotes on you, and you charmed the Queen. You don’t even try and have done far better than I am. What if I missed my chance? Perhaps I should’ve found out more about the Bridgertons. I should’ve known more about their interests. I should’ve been better,” Edwina does not allow either of you to get a word in as a tear escapes her eyes. You place a chaste kiss on the back of her hand as your chest aches at her words.

“Edwina, do not fool yourself. How am I doing better, and yet you are the diamond of the season? You are amazing and do not need to study a man's family to prove your worthiness. If a proposal is what you want, I will beat it out of the Viscount myself if you so wish it,” Earning a chuckle from Edwina and Kate, the tension eases as a small smile plays on Edwina’s lips. It does not reach her eyes, but you do not expect to expel her fears so quickly.

A soft cry leaves her lips in one shaky breath, “I have bungled this entire affair, and now I feel like a fool.”

“Never say such a thing, Bon. I knew he would only end up hurting you. Come here,” Kate says, wrapping Edwina in her arms. You join the other side closing your youngest sister in. Your heads touch as you focus on the sound of Edwina's quiet sobs. “I hate seeing you like this.”

“I thought he liked me,” Edwina cries, her hand squeezing you both a little tighter. You meet Kate's gaze, nudging your head, telling her it was now her turn to give a pep talk.

“(Y/n) is right, Bon. You are the diamond of the season. There is nary a gentleman back in London who does not wish for your hand. You have choices, Bon. I assure you that all will be well despite this disappointment with the Viscount. Plus, do you truly wish to marry someone our sister might murder?” A loud laugh leaves Edwina’s lips as you nod in agreement with Kate. Despite the heaviness of the conversation, a warmth lingers in the air.

The following day you wake to Kate rushing into your room, sitting up; you grumble as she mutters apologies. She moves to your things, removing the cream you have used on many cuts over the years.

“Are you alright?” You ask as she applies it near her collarbone. She assures you everything’s fine. “What happened to your chest?”

“I got a bee sting while near the gardens—“ You frown as she trails off, her eyebrows furrowing as your presence seems no longer relevant. “While I am not fond of the Viscount, you could help him.”

“Why am I helping him?” You ask. Initially, you do not believe her tale of being stung in the gardens and the Viscounts' familiar reaction.

“I do not know his history, Bon. What I do know is there is something with him and bees. I think he shares your ailment. It appeared like he could not breathe. He looked so afraid—his hands were shaking. Bon, I fear I will never understand your ailment, but for the first time, there is someone who can. Please talk to him, not for him—for you.” Kate crouches at your bedside, brushing your hair with her fingers much like she would after one of your episodes. You do not say a word during the entirety of her explanation. Rarely do any of you talk about your ailment. Kate caught it during the announcement of the season’s diamond, but beyond that, it had been relatively dormant.

“I will not seek him out, but if we happen to cross each other paths, I will inquire if he is indeed alright,” You say. Kate smiles, kissing your forehead before leaving your room. It only takes you mere minutes to get ready, not bothered by doing your hair in some precious way. Your mother, Lady Violet, Lady Danbury, and Daphne appear busy planning the lunch. The Bridgerton siblings scatter amongst the large estate to their own devices, and your sister appears nowhere in sight.

While you said you would not seek him out, you find yourself in the gardens. The flowers bloom beautifully with a significant number of hyacinths in view. You marvel at the simplicity.

“Miss Sharma,” Anthony joins your side, but his gaze stays on the flowers. You watch him carefully as he eyes them not in awe but with a cloudy disposition.

“Lord Bridgerton,” You say, turning to the flowers. Anthony's expression does not change, leaving you wondering if he even heard you. Uncertainty plagues you as you are sure what you want to say but not when to say it. “I will not dawdle any longer. I fear I am familiar with where you are now in this ailment. After the horrifying feeling as if all the air will leave your body at once comes that strange calm, where you feel as though you cannot feel anything.”

Anthony’s head whips in your direction, but you do not move your eyes from the flowers. The look on his face tells you that you are on the right track, but it does not confirm your assumptions, “Kate told me what occurred earlier. Correct me if I am wrong, but typically it comes randomly, right? Often in the most inopportune times but typically from certain settings.”

“I—you are mistaken, Miss Sharma. I, the Viscount, suffer no ailment, just temporary lapses,” He does not offer you much as he turns his attention back to the flowers, and you both share similar frowns.

“There is no shame in it, Lord Bridgerton. My father used to say we all have something, if not an ailment—an insecurity. A lot of my insecurities trigger my ailment, if I am quite honest. I have a lot to live up to with two great sisters. I am a lousy shot and not as cognizant as Kate. I lack resilience. I just bury my troubles with humor. Then there’s Edwina, whom you would be a fool to not marry. She checks every box of those silly questions of yours—excelling in modern and classical literature. Which are without a doubt boring,” Anthony chuckles as he listens intently. You let out a huff as you look up and meet his gaze. He appears in awe almost.

“Miss Sharma, I think you are undoubtedly your own harshest critic. You need not be like Kate because you find and elevate the room's most exciting part. Who cares if you are a lousy shot? My younger brothers excelled in shooting before I. You have voiced your distaste for classic literature, and it does edify the mind, but one has to enjoy it to sharpen their wit,” He clasps his hands in front of him, offering a sheepish smile as you look at him. A small smile threatens to break the frown on your lips. While you look off at nothing in particular, you miss how he looks at you. At ease, he appears unusually calm, not stressing the ball or his search for a wife.

“I—I must admit that I was wrong about you, Lord Bridgerton,” You say. A chuckle left his lips while correcting you.

“Anthony,” He says. You nod your head as a smirk tugs at your lips before mocking him.

“You suddenly think we are friends?” He looks incredulously at your sardonic tone, “Oh, do not look at me as if you are unfamiliar with who I am? You can call me by my name if you like. Last I checked, I lack a title and am not a man.”

He scrunched his nose before chuckling as your personality shined through. “With much regret (Y/n), I do agree with you to a point. You lack a title, but I am a gentleman.”

“Spare me your self-righteousness, Lord Bridgerton. I guess I should congratulate you. You have finally acquired the favor of one Sharma sister, now only one more to go, and you can wed Edwina,” Anthony’s face falls at your words. Looking past the garden, William walks toward you both. He ignores your playful smile as his eyes focus on Anthony to your right.

“Miss Sharma, we require a moment alone,” William says, glaring daggers in Anthony’s direction. He does not spare you a single glance as he waits for your departure.

“Miss Sharma?” You scoff at the formality, waiting for him to look at you. After a few seconds, William’s pointed gaze turns toward you.

“Your presence is likely needed elsewhere, and if I am not mistaken, it is highly inappropriate to be with Viscount Bridgerton unchaperoned,” He sounds like your mother, and you do nothing to cover your scowl.

“I know not of your issue, and I do not like whoever this is before me. When you find the time to pull your head out of your arse, then and only then will I happily enjoy your presence. Good day Lord Beauregard,” Your mocking curtsy’s evident before you stomp from the gardens into Aubrey Hall. The rest of the day continues in a blur of your mother preparing you and Edwina for lunch. In the middle of your mother doing your hair, a tap on the door becomes the room's focal point. Mary calls out enter, to which a maid reveals a letter for you from the Duke.

Lady (Y/n),

My apologies for my demeanor earlier. I am cross with my very best friend, and I fear I took it out on you. I will not be in attendance for lunch, for I fear tensions run far too high between Anthony and I. I will be in attendance at the ball. Until then.

Lord Beauregard

“Why is the Duke cross with the Viscount? They are dear friends,” Your mother says, reading over your shoulder, shrugging lazily at the neat cursive you toss it aside.

“Lord Beauregard is upset with Lord Bridgerton? Maybe that is why he did not propose?” Edwina says. You say nothing as Kate observes you as Edwina and your mother continue theorizing. Newton nuzzles at your feet as you hold your tongue. Your mother excuses herself, leaving the three of you alone. Kate still urges Edwina to recognize that she has no shortage of options in terms of suitors. This reality matters little, Edwina speaks passionately, and you cannot discredit her logic. Anthony can indeed provide her with the life she wants—deserves. Kate sighs, looking toward you. Shrugging your shoulders, you scratch the top of Newton’s head. Edwina keeps her gaze low as she speaks cautiously, “Sisters, I’ve been thinking.”

“Clearly,” You mutter under your breath, earning a pointed stare from Kate. Edwina’s shoulders fall as she glances between the two of you. “Apologies, bon, continue.”

Edwina straightens her posture lifting her chin. Raising your eyebrow, you cannot help the faint quirk of your lips. The anticipation of Edwina’s following words nearly comical, far too dramatic for your liking, “I am now quite certain I know why he has not yet made his declaration.”

Kate stiffens, glancing at you briefly before looking back at Edwina. The action terse, earning a furrow in your eyebrows at her. Edwina looks between the two of you with this confidence that you are certain has the strength of wet tissue paper. Her features too frail, and her voice far too delicate, “It's because of the two of you. (Y/n) you push too harshly at him and Kate; you hate one another.”

Edwina crosses the room crossing her arms, contemplating the situation. You eye Kate, her posture loosens, and a long breath leaves her. She looks back at you, and the pause lasts far longer than it should. Kate shakes her gently while turning to Edwina, “Uh, hate is probably too strong a word.”

“And quite frankly, I have been going rather easy on the Viscount,” You say, leaning back in your seat, taking note to later ask Kate what’s going on. Edwina's eyes widen, a glint flashing across her irises. “Oh no, whatever it is you’re thinking, I already hate it.”

“It is clear from your exchanges with the Viscount that he shares the feelings you each have for him. (Y/n) the two of you often banter, but the line between friendship and disdain is far too blurry. Kate, the two of you simply bicker, the line is very clear, and you are on the wrong side of it. All of this time, I thought I needed help getting him to fall in love with me. But I now realize I neeapparentting him to fall in love with both of you,” Edwina speaks softly, joining you on the couch. You can feel Kate’s gaze searing into your skin as she frowns at Edwina.

“Well, I don’t know about love, but the Viscount and I have recently found some common ground. I actually gave him my blessing earlier today,” You speak casually, watching Edwina squeal excitedly. She quickly pecks your cheek before turning to Kate with a soft smile. Kate’s sharp stare does not leave you even as Edwina urges Kate to try harder.

“I have not given up, I will not give up,” Edwina says with a dreamy look in her eyes. She rests her head on your shoulder, failing to see the tense stare between the two of you. Kate wastes no time in asking Edwina to go retrieve your mother.

At the closing of the door, the room still, you both stare each other waiting for the other to speak. Newton whines softly from the floor, the tension all-consuming in the sunlit room. You scoff, crossing your arms, “If you have something to say, just say it. The shared looks with Daphne and William and looks of scrutiny are becoming rather irritating.”

Kate huffs as her shoulders fall. She glances around the room before her eyes come back to you. The second she speaks, you do nothing to hide the grimace that takes your features, her tones gentle. Too gentle, you know it all too well, “Have you lost your mind? Why would you give Anthony your blessing? This will only further complicate things.”

“Do not patronize me, Kate. What are you even on about? We do not have to like him, Kate, but we cannot deny that he can give Edwina the life she wants. A large family, simple affections, dutiful husband,” You stand up with an incredulous glint in your eyes.

“A life where her husband and sister have feelings for each other?” Kate’s words rip through you. The weight of her allegation thinning the air around you. You blink several times as though if you do it enough, it will reset time, virtually ending this conversation.

“I would never hurt Edwina like that. That is a vile accusation,” You seethe, stepping closer to Kate, the breeze from the window cooling the fury that burns your skin. Kate places her hands cautiously on your shoulders. She knows how to anger you just as easily as soothe you.

“I know, bon, but we cannot ignore the truth of the matter,” Kate says, biting the inside of your cheek; you shake her hand off your shoulder. At the window, you peer out at nothing, in particular, swallowing thickly.

“He is courting Edwina, that is all,” You do not look at her as you speak, busying yourself with the many who prepare the backyard of Aubrey Hall with tables and umbrellas.

“I confronted him during Pall Mall about this subject matter. He, too, dismissed me. Neither of you even deny your feelings, only emphasize the inappropriate nature to which your relationship treks dangerously close,” Kate says, being greeted with your silence as you focus as though the workers perform for you. A long sigh fills the silence, “I do not wish to upset you, sister. We swim in precarious waters. If not careful, we’ll drown.”

You turn to Kate, your eyes glassy. Neither of you move, and Edwina’s jubilant voice sounds in the corridor. Before the door opens, you speak barely above a whisper, “We’re friends, that is all.”

Edwina rushes into the room ahead of your mother. She runs to the clothing, insistent on picking her best dress. Your mother glances between you and Kate. It seems she catches all that Edwina misses, and still, no one speaks a word of it.

Though not customary, you wear a sleeveless apricot dress that your mother forces you to pair with a sheer shawl. You walk without a destination with Kate through the backyard, the sea of faces, unfamiliar--the people, uninteresting.

“Sisters!” You can recognize Edwina’s light tone anywhere, her voice lacking the faint bass of your tone. Edwina sits with Anthony. Kate glances your way as Anthony meets your gaze. The pause brief. You glance at Kate before both of you look back to Edwina, her smile beaming. If she notices the hesitancy, she does not show it. “Come sit with us!”

Anthony rises as you both approach. As you approach the seat across from Anthony, Kate stands by the chair across from Edwina. Your eyebrows pinch as you look at Anthony, now questioning every little detail about his demeanor—every little detail about your own.

“Miss Sharma,” Anthony stands with his hands behind his back, dutifully nodding at both of you. You fight every urge to call him Serg.

“Lord Bridgerton,” Kate says. You nod your head fighting your better nature. The boundary between yourself and your potential brother-in-law now hazy. You like his disdain, maybe even prefer it. Contempt can be understood, but anything else resembles putting together a puzzle with missing pieces. You always did like to hide away parts of the puzzles to avoid finishing them.

The three of you sit down, sharing awkward glances as Edwina smiles, sticking out amongst the polite smiles. Anthony clears his throat, momentarily filling the silence. You fidget with a string hanging from your dress as Edwina looks at Kate.

“Did you tell the Viscount about your bee sting?” Your eyes cut to Kate, then Anthony as the question seemingly stills the table further. Kate chuckles softly. She looks at Anthony, speaking plainly. He offers a mock ah that earns an eye roll as you fiddle with your dress string. Edwina’s gaze turns to you, “Sister, you are quiet. Are you alright?”

“Tired perhaps,” Shrugging, Edwina huffs softly but maintains her chipper smile. The table conversation relies focally on Edwina bouncing between the three of you. Edwina suggests that Anthony give you and Kate a tour before you can decline; both Anthony and Kate speak over each other.

“I’ll be shooting with the other gentlemen. The party is to leave quite soon, I’m afraid,” Anthony offers a charming smile toward Edwina. Your younger sister perks up, not missing the opportunity to announce your adept skills in tracking and Kate’s excellent shot. Kate scoffs as Anthony laughs, seemingly dismissing the revelation.

“Do you not think it true?” Kate says. Benedict approaches, reminding Anthony it’s almost time to go. You cannot fight the grin off your lips at the sight of Kate. She has that look on her face. The one where she gets crazy competitive and enables your shenanigans.

Anthony chuckles, glancing at you just as you roll your eyes and laugh, “Perhaps your sister excels in fields with straight aim and level ground, but surely they would have some trouble managing—“

“Well, that certainly wasn’t condescending at all,” You murmur very clearly, raising an eyebrow as you look at him. Kate follows with her own question as Anthony steps further into it. Benedict smiles largely as his oldest brother crashes and burns rather quickly.

“I only mean to say—“ Anthony's slow drawl fuels your amusement. He meets your gaze, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly.

“Because we are women?” Kate says.

“No. I did not say that.” Anthony's gaze swiftly turns to Kate. At this point, he fumbles to clarify his point, merely shoving his foot farther into his mouth.

“But you implied it,” You point out, glancing at Benedict, whose grin falls as Anthony looks at him. Anthony then chuckles, speaking with a newfound diction, “Ladies, do not hunt.”

Kate quickly distinguishes between what ladies are and are not allowed to do. You bite your bottom lip, mirroring Benedict’s grin as Edwina redirects the conversation. Before you know it, you chuckle while changing in your room as Kate grumbles about Anthony, her irritation of the smug Bridgerton allowing you reprieve from her hefty assumptions. You push her accusation and William's proposal to the back of your mind. The fresh country air pulls a large smile to your lips. The glances from the other men barely reach you as Kate glares at them. Your and Kate's chaperone struggling like a fool on her horse behind the two of you. You sit on the back of Kate’s horse, your eyes taking in all the greenery, specifically the dirt that sits just faintly visible beneath it. The untrained eye would miss the faint but present signs of life in the area. One of the gentlemen up ahead calls the hunting party to the right.

“To the right?” You mutter, your eyebrows pinching as you glance over Kate’s shoulder. Several men steer their horses right as your eyes lock on Anthony’s back, the mocking tone leaving you with ease, “Viscount Bridgerton, do we intend to merely gaze at nature this day?”

“I do like your riddles, Miss Sharma, but I would love it if you spoke plainly,” Anthony says, his overly saccharine smile matching his mocking tone. Kate supplants Benedict spot riding next to Anthony, putting the two of you in clear view of the other.

“My sister's, right. Look, tracks are going off to the left. You can see the cloven shape in the moss,” Kate says. You spot her find, nodding your head as you gesture to the closest tree to the tracks, “The markings of the tree, deer like to rub their antlers against them.”

“Let’s stay with the group. If we find nothing, I shall offer myself up for both your target practice,” Anthony says, rolling your eyes as you scoff.

“You shall most likely come out unscathed as my target but rest assured, Kate won’t miss,” You taunt, tilting your head mockingly. Anthony narrows his eyes at you, a smile ghosting upon his lips. Kate glances between the two of you, sighing as she clears her throat, ending the moment as swiftly as it arrives. Silence blankets the three of you. You rest your head on the back of Kate’s shoulder, huffing quietly. The silence lives for only a few seconds as you perk up, “Lord Bridgerton, do you know why Lord Beauregard departed so abruptly?”

“He likely made haste once he realized you are more vexing than you are charming,” Anthony says with a matter-of-fact tone as you roll your eyes.

“I knew you thought me charming. The rest of your family certainly finds me to be so,” You fire back instantly, a smirk on your lips as you hold your chin up high. Anthony mimics your eye roll while looking ahead, your moment short-lived as William’s proposal lingers in your mind. You continue with half-hearted amusement while drumming against the saddle, “It’s unlikely William runs from me given his desire to make me his bride.”

Your eyes fog over as you presently leave the moment, Anthony’s locked stare failing to garner your attention. His voice lacks the condescension it has carried throughout the entirety of the day. He ignores Kate’s stare as he looks at you, asking, “You are engaged?”

The drop of your stomach at his question makes you sit straight as a pencil, a distant ringing in your ear faint and nagging. If Kate notices, she does not show or voice it. It seems that minutes—no perhaps hours pass since the question leaves Anthony’s lips, and yet his brother calls after him mere seconds after. Yet the question still lingers. You find yourself considering the possibilities. Will you marry him? You should have an answer. At least that’s what you believe.

Uncertain. Unbecoming. Unworthy.

A foolish—Kate’s voice pulls you back to the present. The horse comes to a stop as the masses dismount and scatters amongst the woods, “Sister, are you alright?”

“Always,” You say, climbing down with a grin. Kate eyes you carefully, and you wonder if she can see how you bury the anxiety, smothering its fire and leaving mere smoke in its wake.

Marching through the woods, you put your focus on your surroundings. You ignore how Kate challenges the others on how to go about the hunt. Kate and Anthony, too consumed bickering to notice how you veer off further and further from each of them. The lean, long-legged ruminant mammal greets your gaze with glowing reddish-brown fur with a cream-colored underbelly. A quiet chuckle leaves your lips, placing your gun down. You watch it in awe.

“Good find, bon!” Kate whispers. She joins your side, meeting your amazed expression with a proud smile. Anthony joins the two of you quite loudly, both of you shushing him as he thankfully did not manage to rouse the deer.

“Are you two quite serious? You cannot just go off like that,” Anthony scolds. Rolling your eyes, you scoff.

“If I wished to just see the trees and shrubbery, I would’ve gladly stayed and followed your very skilled guide,” Your sardonic tone earns a mocking smile, the two of you appearing like squabbling children.

“Lord Bridgerton, would you please be quiet. Bon, it’s your find. You should take the shot,” Kate says. All eyes fall on you, a chuckle leaving your parted lips as you stammer before the words escape you. Your sentences do not form or leave you as you glance at your gun.

Anthony purses his lips as Kate holds her gun out to you. You stare at the gun for several seconds, swallowing thickly. Just as you go to refuse, your blood boils as Anthony’s words reach your ears, “Miss Sharma, cowardice looks good on no one.”

“Takes a craven to know one,” You grumble. Taking the gun from Kate’s hand, you crouch down on the fallen tree. The barrel, at a comfortable place below your shoulder against your armpit, you inhale deeply, controlling the subtle tremble of your hands. Your palms glide against the gun faintly, coating it in a light sheen of sweat. You squeeze the trigger, closing your eyes, the sound scurrying away, telling you the verdict of your shot. Standing up, the sound of the hunting party rushing overfills your ears. Biting the inside of your cheek, your mind scrambles to prepare quick comebacks at the inevitable teasing that heads your way from the Viscount Bridgerton.

Just as the first few faces arrive, Anthony’s voice fills the silence, “It headed that way. It appears I am a bit rusty, but both Miss Kate and Miss (Y/n) are to be credited for finding the deer.“

Kate meets your gaze with a knowing look, but it does not matter as neither of you says a word to the other. The bout of confusion silencing, Kate does not push the subject any further than earlier, and you are grateful.

As the sky bleeds orange, it soon blackens, leaving you to lie awake with the pattering of rain outside your window to keep you company. Like most nights, you slip out of your room to your favorite part of Aubrey Hall, the steps. Sheltered by the house without being in the place. You rest your legs on your elbows on your knees, your chin against your palms like a patient child. The rain falls in heavy droplets, and light splashes mist up, just barely reaching you. It’s constant and unwavering. Approaching steps lull as soft as the pouring rain. You glance at the cup placed at your side.

“I like to have tea on my restless nights. It’s soothing,” Anthony sits at your side, staring out at the rain as he speaks. He takes a cautious sip of his own tea, glancing over at you when silence greets him. You stare at him with a raised brow glancing between him and the cup sitting next to you.

“I prefer—“

“Coffee. Perhaps if you take the time to look at the cup, you will recognize it,” Anthony says casually, taking another sip of his tea. You look at the light brown drink, steam wafting from it to your nose. The sweet smell leaves your mouth salivating in anticipation.

“Is your plot to assassinate me, Viscount Bridgerton? Presenting as a dutiful potential future brother-in-law with a cup of arsenic in hand?” You ask. Taking the handle of your cup, you bring it to your lips while holding Anthony’s gaze, amusement dancing in your eyes.

“Why, of course, my lady. Name a better pass time. I’ll wait,” He says, earning a chuckle as you wipe the remnant of the coffee from your lips. It lacks the nutmeg and cardamom you are used to. The bittersweet taste familiar but all the more different.

“Very funny, Viscount Bridgerton,” You chuckle softly, taking another sip as you peer back out at the rain. The muggy air and warm drinks flush your skin, a faint tint of reddish pink covering you. It’s serene but not perfect with the uncomfortable temperature, poor visibility, and loud silence. Yet it works. Neither you nor he moves to break this solitude. It lasts for seemingly a lifetime in mere minutes.

“William asked you to marry him?” Anthony says. You sigh, placing down your cup of coffee. You can see Anthony’s watching you from the corner of your eye.

“I presumed he would tell his best friend,” You are quick but not fast enough.

“Do you love him?” Anthony asks. You stare out at the rain with an unreadable expression. Your silence does not paint your truth to its full scope.

“I love William, I do. But I’m not in love with William,” You swallow thickly, your fingers fidgeting in your lap, “He wishes for me to be happy. Yet he does not understand what love does.”

“And what is that?” Anthony murmurs. He looks away from you, tracing the rim of his cup.

“It—“ You open your mouth just as your thoughts jumble in your mind. Taking a deep breath, Anthony glances over at you, a curious glint in his eyes. You cannot help but notice how you hold his full attention, “Love is like an anchor. It drags down to the sea. Further and further from reality, the reality is that marriage is an economic proposition. I do not wish to delve into detail, but the fantasy of love and marriage have long been sullied for me. I do not desire it nor require it. I know that may sound harsh, but it is my truth.”

“Not harsh at all. Refreshing perhaps,” Anthony says quietly. You nearly do not hear him. He takes a sip of his tea before clearing his throat, “After, uh, after my father passed, it took such a heavy toll on my mother. They shared a great love which showed all the good, but once you’ve seen the bad, it’s near—near—“

“Irreversible,” You say softly, finishing his sentence and meeting his eyes. The rain rages on, the soothing white noise all-consuming. You flinch as the sky brightens with the strike of purple lightning that flashes across the sky. The loud following booms rumbling the ancestral home.

“Perhaps it is time to retire to our rooms. Allow me to escort you,” Anthony says. You raise an eyebrow at him with a teasing grin. He rolls his eyes taking a taunting tone, “To ensure the arsenic takes, of course.”

Chuckling softly, you reach for your cup, cut off as Anthony takes it before you. You offer a mock surrender raising your hands in defeat earning a chuckle. Anthony walks you to your room door. Pausing before entering, speaking just barely above a whisper, “Tell anyone of this, and I will deny it. You are not as dreadful as you present yourself to be.”

“Great final words, my lady,” Anthony jokes, earning an eye roll as you bid him goodnight before disappearing into your room. Inside you choose not to dwell on the conversation too long, finding sleep at the touch of your face to your pillow.

You stand with Lady Danbury flittering with the uncomfortable corset rather than pay attention to all in attendance. Lady Danbury glances at you, vocalizing the arrival of Lord Beauregard. Your eyes dart across the room, considering blending into the sea of ambitious ladies and their slithering mothers.

“Miss Sharma,” William offers a warm smile while holding out a glass of wine. He apologizes for his absence, suggesting they dance.

“Mhm, do I let you off the hook so easily?” You sip your wine with a tilt of your head, a playful glint dazzling your eyes. William lets out a hearty laugh, his own sparkle shining with mischief.

“Please, oh beautiful Miss Sharma. Please forgive me, for I cannot continue without your forgiveness,” William clutches his chest, throwing his head back dramatically. The laugh that leaves your lips rises from deep in your stomach. Your cheeks grow sore as you ignore the looks of others. It’s almost easy to forget the frivolity of being in William’s company.

“Shut up and dance with me,” You chuckle. Discarding your cup, you take William’s hand, leading him to the dance floor. He bows as you curtsy, the two of you taking your uniform positions. Step back. Chin up high. Lift your hand. Turn. Each step visibly graceful and painfully robotic, controlled.

“I don’t wish to pressure you, but I cannot help but wonder where your thoughts are on my proposition of sorts,” William says. He makes the dance look easy. Each move carried out as though instinctive.

“Mhm, binding myself to the royal family who currently lacks an heir puts me dangerously close to being wed to a man who could be king someday. You offer not a simple proposition but a hefty proposal that cannot be taken lightly,” Your matter-of-fact tone impedes your count. William shifts right, covering your stumble with a light lift as he turns the both of you. When your feet touch the ground, you grumble a thank you continuing the dance, “I am too uncoordinated.”

“Some could say unique,” William counters. Taking your hand, he spins you gently.

“Unfit,” You fire back, continuing your count, step back. Hand on his shoulder, the other in his hand.

As expected of the dance, William steps forward following your step back. His nose brushes your own as his gaze does not falter, “Perfect. Absolutely perfect. Without a doubt.”

Your voice catches in your throat, William looking at you as imagine man did upon discovering fire. While your decision remains unclear, you are certain of one thing. The security and companionship of William’s offer. Your eyes glaze over, thoughts flooding your mind all at once. William chuckles softly, pulling away, continuing a simple sway. “I do not aim to make you uncomfortable or pressure you. Only for you to see you as I do.

“It appears Eloise is enjoying this night just as much as you,” William looks over at Eloise. She dances a few paces to your left. Her eyebrows pinched as her eyes narrowed at Lord…you cannot put a name to his face. In seconds the gentleman walks away as Lady Bridgerton follows Eloise to the stairs. Her exchange with her mother does not reach you, but the looks are all too familiar. Lady Violet's unable to understand her daughter but proceeds with gentle patience, Eloise’s frustration. Neither understands the other. You find yourself glancing across the room at your own mother.

She smiles encouragingly, blissfully unaware of your plight. Unable to see the world through your eyes.

“You should go after her,” William says, pulling away from the simple box step you’ve both resigned to. Your eyebrows furrow as William bows, with a fond smile as he speaks, “Eloise Bridgerton. A comely lady of the ton going against the norms of the system set upon them. Sound familiar?”

You cannot stop the smile that spreads across your face. William nudges his head toward the direction Eloise disappeared. Nodding your head, you follow the stairs, passing Penelope on your way. She quickly calls out where to find Eloise. It does not take you long to find her door. You offer two light knocks, turning your head to listen in.

“I wish to be alone!”

“Might I join you? I certainly wish for a reprieve from the farce that occurs in your family home,” Chuckling, you lean on the door frame. Shuffling behind the door greeting you with the distant music of the ball continuing on down the hall. After a few seconds, you are sure she will ignore you, but the opening of the door welcomes you. Eloise sits on the floor a few feet from the door. She pulls at the string of her dress, watching as a piece of hem gently unravels. You take a seat next to her, drumming your fingers against your thighs, “do you wish to talk about it?”

“Being my mothers' disappointment? Not particularly,” Eloise says with a matter-of-fact tone.

“I get it. The feeling is rather draining. Focus on it too much, and you’ll find yourself scrutinizing every detail about yourself,” You say, resting your head back against the wall. The laxness of your tone contrasts her furrowed eyebrows.

“You feel like your mothers' disappointment?” Her incredulous tone earns a chuckle as you nod with a gentle smile. “Not a chance. You’re pretty and charismatic, every mother's dream.”

“Many find me argumentative and blunt. Kate is more reserved. She has mastered proper etiquette. Edwina is the comely charismatic one. Most days, I can’t tell if Mother fears what I might do or what I might say,” Your words leave you quickly, shrugging as you near ramble. Wetting your lips, you chuckle as Eloise continues your rambling, “And even when you say something outside of the norm as they’re expecting, they act as though it surprises them. As if they don’t know our natures.”

“Ah, so my Mom isn’t special. It just comes with the having a mother package, I see,” You jest, chuckling softly as Eloise does as well. Only little shards of the prior remains. A reminder in the music that plays from downstairs as the ball continues. The fancy dresses you both wear that itch at the neckline and constrict your midsection. Reminders in your stations amongst society, “Eloise, we are the second daughters. The middle children, like shadows not clearly seen but fairly visible. Existing behind the first and last born daughters. It may sound like a sad reality, but there’s something rather amazing about us.”

“Being ignored and forced to conform?” Eloise’s eyebrows pinch as she stares at your chuffed stupor.

After a few seconds of staring off with the grin of a fool, you speak. Your voice much like velvet, appearing as though nothing in the world could hurt you, “We get to be whomever we wish, not what our mothers molded us to be for society.”

“Are you certain you don’t want to marry any of my brothers?” Eloise smiles, sliding closer. She rests her head on your shoulder. You kiss the crown of her head before resting your own head on hers. Eloise yawns as her words leave her, resembling a sleepy child as she says, “I do not wish for you to leave. My sisters don’t get me.”

“It’s okay. Sisters aren’t supposed to. It keeps things interesting that way,” You joke, earning a weak chuckle. Eloise does not say a word. She continues resting her head on your shoulder. A few minutes pass before Benedict pokes his head in, and you do your best to help get Eloise to bed. You both walk back to the main room together, where the party continues.

“Eloise seems to really like you,” Benedict says with a big grin. You furrow your eyebrows, looking at him.

“And just what exactly are you implying, Lord Bridgerton?” Your playful and straightened posture earns a laugh.

“Just that whether we become in-laws through our siblings or not, you, Miss Sharma, are always welcome back here. Especially for Pall-Mall,” Benedict says. His smile spreads across his face, even his eyes smiling.

“I will remember this invitation and hold you to it,” You tease, grinning as Benedict assures you his word is his bond. As you both walk, he cuts right at the dance floor. You cut left, following the outskirts of the dance floor. Edwina’s smile shines on the opposite side, the light of a young girl in her eyes. Reaching Edwina’s side, she clings to your arm with a giddy smile.

“Oh, sister! Lord Bridgerton and I have danced twice tonight. Twice!” Edwina exclaims, her smile shining up at you as she interlaces her fingers in yours. She gestures to the dance floor where Kate and Anthony dance. Your eyes stay on them as Edwina speaks, her words not fully registering as Anthony’s eyebrow furrow at something Kate says. Edwina gives your hand a light squeeze, “Oh, Didi, I’m certain he’d not have asked me for two if he did not have intentions for the evening. Kate should be giving her blessing as we speak. Oh, isn’t it all so exciting, sister? We shall both be wed before the season's end!”

“Yeah,” Chuckling softly, your eyes stay on Kate and Anthony. Anthony’s eyes widen before scanning around the room. His search halts as he captures your gaze. Edwina still speaks, oblivious to your lack of attention or how Kate looks between you and your staring partner. Anthony glances at the door and back at you; arching your brow, you turn to Edwina. Your pensive stare eludes her as she rambles with a large smile, painting the vision she sees of your future. Anthony politely bows to Kate before leaving the room as Kate joins you and Edwina. If she notices how your eyes follow Anthony out of the room, she does not give any inkling of it as she nods along to Edwina’s excitement. Your ears ring as the various colored gowns of the room muddle, and your vision splinters. You swallow dryly, the ringing in your ears growing louder. Pulling at the edge of your short-sleeved dress brings a faint cool to your flushed skin.

“Sister, are you alright?” Edwina’s voice snaps you back into the present, looking at her with a weak smile.

“Just a bit warm. I think I shall take a moment to get some air,” The words leave you quickly, almost incoherently. You do not look at Kate, her gaze burning a hole into the side of your head. The corridor outside of the ball greets you with low light and a cool breeze from the open back door. Anthony stands on the porch pacing back and forth. You look at him and then glance back at the doors that lead into the ball. You should go back inside, of this you are sure. Despite this, you take a few steps forward, your light efforts capturing his attention. You tilt your head toward the library doors before entering without a word. The room is far more lit than the hall, with many candles and closed windows drying your mouth. You eye the pitcher and cup on the desk, undoubtedly some form of alcohol—hopefully far stronger than wine.

Anthony slams the door behind him, his fists clenching as he paces. You roll your eyes, crossing your arms, your mocking tone filling the silence, “Please just share what I have done this time. The suspense is killing me.”

“When will you leave? Huh?” He asks, furrowing your eyebrows; he gives you no time to speak. A mirthless chuckle leaves his lips, “Oh, Miss Sharma, now you are one for silence?”

“What are you going on about?” You scoff, narrowing your eyes at his condescension.

“Your sister speaks of your plans to depart back to India, so when shall you leave?” Anthony grits his teeth, hissing his words as he steps closer to you. Your eyebrows quirk up, staring into his eyes, quickly identifying what lies across his face—utter betrayal. Anthony shakes his head, scoffing, “Of course, you grow silent when one desires you to speak. You live to get under my skin. I’m almost certain god has sent you to punish me.”

“Lord Bridgerton, I fear we have found ourselves in a conundrum that if it ever came to light, I fear my family would never forgive me. We mustn’t confuse our understanding and friendly nature for something entirely different. Yes, I can be infuriating and insolent, but it's a part of my charm, I think. We are just confused. A line is blurring between us,” A weak chuckle leaves your lips. How can one want to punch and kiss someone all at once? You shake your head as though to rid yourself of the thought and feeling. Internally scolding yourself for ignoring Kate’s warnings, you clear your throat, “You seek a wife of perfection, which my sister can provide. That is simply where we must stand.”

“I am a man of honor and of certainty. I have been certain of what I seek of what I want from start to finish in all things. Especially matters of my family, and yet—“ He pauses, inhaling sharply as he looks at you. The look in his eyes that was not there before that you have not seen before.

“Here, in your quick wit and inability to listen to reason, you challenge all I stand on—all my certainty. Your sister and I share understanding, but there is no shroud for what we share,” Anthony stands before you with a look of utter desperation, of devotion. His eyes reflect all you feel. The confusion, the frustration, the desire.

“Lord Bridgerton—” Straightening your posture, you clear your throat. It falls on deaf ears as Anthony steps closer, his hand ghosting over your cheek. The heat of his palm spreads across your face like wildfire that never quite touches. He speaks quietly as though coveting his words “(Y/n). Tell me you feel nothing. Tell me, your mind does not feel the temptation of this dalliance? Do you have no comprehension of how you plague me?”

Your voice sits in your throat. Every muscle in your body tense as though you await something cataclysmic. Neither of you takes your eyes off the other. His hand still cradles the air centimeters from your cheek. The crackling of the fireplace fills the silence.

It all implodes with the faintest tilt of your head into his palm. You both pull forward sharply. His hands cradle your face as your foreheads touch. You place a hand on his shoulder. The proximity dizzying. The feel of him all-consuming. You squeeze your eyes shut, the consequences be damned.

“This is wrong,” You whisper, gripping his shoulder and taking long deep breaths through your nose. His breath tickles your lips as the space between you further closes.

“Oh!” You flinch back, Daphne’s eyes looking from you to her brother. Her eyes are wide as Anthony steps toward her. She looks back at you, speaking softly as your glassy eyes stare back at her like a fearful child, “I’m sorry.”

Daphne leaves the room hastily, with Anthony chasing behind her. You walk to the desk, pouring a quick glass of the drink. The drink makes you grimace as you swallow it down in one go. You do not look up as the door opens again, crying out desperately, “I require something stronger, please!”

“Oh, Bon,” Kate says softly. You rest your hands flat on the desk letting your head hang as your tears fall beneath you. She pulls you into a tight hug, letting you sob into her shoulder. You refuse to share the source of your despair, your thoughts haunting you. Kate was right. Even William was aware, “Oh (Y/n).”

“Didi, it’s all wrong. It’s all wrong! ” You cry out, looking up at her. She cradles your face. All red and puffy.

“Bon, we will get through this, I promise you. Wipe your tears and show me the fearsome (Y/n) I know.” Kate says, kissing your forehead. She takes you up to bed, tucking you in, even brushing her fingers through your hair as you quietly cry with your back toward her. When Edwina stops in, she offers well wishes before bed. It only fuels the fire of your despair.

The following day, you rise early, bathing before hastily packing your things. You thank the heavens that Kate makes no mention of the night prior, nor does Daphne. Your goodbyes? Almost robotic as you anxiously await packing away into the carriage and leaving Aubrey Hall behind. Kate holds your hand, offering occasional light squeezes as the three of you stand by the carriage. Edwina glances at your interlaced hands and says nothing as she takes your free hand in her own, kissing the top of your hand.

The slight chill of the morning breeze does nothing to cool the warmth that holds you captive. Your palms are sweaty as your stomach wrestles itself. You look at Edwina on the brink of tears, her eyebrows furrowing at the sight.

“Sister, are you alright?” Edwina’s head tilts as she gently squeezes your hand. Your throat drying just before you can find your words.

“Um, I need to—“ You speak quietly, the calling of wait making you tense as you all turn toward the front door of Aubrey Hall. Anthony marches down the stairs with unwavering confidence, squeezing Kate’s hand tight; you swallow dryly.

“May I speak with you?” He says. You fail to notice how Edwina slips her hand out of yours as well as how Anthony's eyes do not meet your own. Your ears ring so loud you do not hear the words that leave Anthony’s lips, only registering the knee he takes as he holds a ring out to Edwina. Kate whispers in your ear, coaching you to keep it together as your nails dig into her palms. Edwina’s eyes are large and shining. She looks at you and Kate. The smokescreen of pending nuptials blinds her to the mournful look that holds your face. Your mother focuses too intently on Edwina and Anthony to notice but Lady Danbury? Lady Danbury eyes you with a knowing look, but still, she says nothing. As the seconds pass like hours, your expression sharpens as though the despair never existed. You look at Kate, offering a curt nod.

“I do wonder about the trim. Is it too much?” Edwina asks, standing up on the podium as your mother beams up at her. You are certain the last you saw her so happy was when your father was still alive. Sitting by the window, you lazily peer out at nothing in particular. No one comments on your icy demeanor, but you know they have noticed it.

“Nothing is too much now that the Queen is hosting,” Your mother smiles, looking from Edwina to the Modiste. As your mother continues to look over different fabrics, Edwina may like the room grows silent in her absence. Kate steals glances at you as Edwina takes in the view of her gown.

“Did I mention we will be married by the archbishop himself?” Edwina says gleefully. Kate's smile does not reach her eyes as she nods and watches you. The bride-to-be glances over at you with a frown, “Sister, did something happen between you and the Duke? You’ve been unwell since the last night before we left Aubrey Hall.”

“We are fine,” Your flat tone barely audible as you continue eyeing the bustling road outside.

“Sister, you should accept his proposal. Then we would both have royal weddings, and you would be a royal! The Queen already adores you, and I’ve seen the way Lord Beauregard looks at you,” Edwina says, her smile large and tone encouraging. You purse your lips looking over at Kate. She holds your gaze before you turn back to the window. Edwina frowns, observing the brief moment, but she says nothing. Instead, she maintains her smile, “We must get you both dresses as well. Special ones. This wedding is as much both for your triumphs as it is for mine. Both of you clearly said something that swayed him to declare himself.”

“We cannot claim credit, Bon,” Kate says, chuckling slowly while shaking her head, but Edwina insists. You chew on your bottom lip, ignoring the burn of your throat, blinking continuously. Kate reminds Edwina that you both plan to leave after the wedding if you have not accepted William’s proposal.

Back at Lady Danbury’s, you hide away in your shared room, sitting by the window lazily drumming your fingers against your leg. You let out a frustrated huff, your sulking growing utterly dull. Biting the inside of your cheek, you glance at your room door, perhaps a venture outside. You stick your head out of the door, looking down both sides of the corridor before stepping lightly out. Where your mother is currently is not to your knowledge, but you know she will prevent wandering if she catches wind of it. You move carefully past the tearoom, freezing in your tracks.

“—nothing appropriate about what you’re doing proceeding with your engagement,” Kate seethes. Frowning, you press your ear to the door.

“On the contrary, I believe it is the most proper outcome for all,” Anthony says, rolling your eyes as you glare at the door as though he stands before you.

“Oh, and what of everything that has happened between you and my sister at Aubrey Hall?” Kate says. The silence tenses every muscle in your body as you await his answer.

“Nothing passed between Miss (Y/n) and I,” Anthony says cooly, a blatant lie. You bawl your fists. How dare he! Opening your eyes to something you could have easily continued oblivious to, only to shut you out completely. You march off to the stairs, stopping at the sight of your mother and sister at the bottom of them.

“Is that so? If I recall correctly, you appeared angrier than hornets at the prospect of her departure,” Kate says, “I can recall the way your eyes find her in every room. The way you look at her, far more than a prospective brother-in-law. If she accepts Lord Beauregard’s proposal, you will be bound to each other in a tortuous way forever. ”

“Would Miss (Y/n) and I being the ones to marry after all my public courting of Miss Edwina, be the outcome you desire?” Anthony asks. You greet them with a large smile stalling as you scratch the back of your neck.

“No, but I’m certain it’s yours,” Kate says. You make certain to enter the room first, giving Lord Bridgerton and Kate a moment to step away from each other. Anthony greets your sister and mother with a polite smile. It falters as he meets your gaze. You roll your eyes quickly, averting your gaze to your mother.

“I will return in seconds. You lot can begin without me,” You sputter, leaving the room before your mother can protest. She calls out to you, but you are already out of the door and halfway down the stairs. A pair of hands steadying you at your waist as you crash into a chest.

“Easy there. Are you always so spritely?” William chuckles, offering a warm grin as you recollect yourself. He frowns, taking a good look at you, “(Y/n) are you—?”

“If we were to wed, would you consider coming to India?” You ask. It’s selfish and wrong, complicating your situation even further if possible.

“I uh—well, I could, but once my grandfather leaves us, I will have to return. His responsibilities shall fall to me,” William says, his eyebrows furrowing as he looks at you, “(Y/n) I only want you to consider this if you truly see it in your future.”

“Let’s not fret over it now. Mother will wish to see you. Come,” You take his arm, pulling him along with you to the tearoom. Your mother and Edwina smile happily at William’s presence in the room. Anthony stares at the two of you, his eyes locked on your intertwined arms.

“Well, now that you are all here. I have news. Lord and Lady Sheffield sent word they are in London,” Lady Danbury says. You do not hide your grimace, looking up at Lady Danbury in pure disgust. Kate looks at your mother as Edwina smiles.

“Our grandparents?” Edwina says, looking at you. You look down at the door, counting each line you can see in the wood.

“Indeed. It seems they read the engagement announcement and wish to make your acquaintance and, uh, that of your future husband, of course,” Lady Danbury ignores the lack of reaction from all of you except Edwina. You scoff quietly, muttering to yourself, “Of course they do.”

“They are already in town?” Kate asks. William glances between you and your family, and so does Anthony. The best friends look at each other before Anthony addresses the elephant in the room. You glance at your mother, the way she controls her shallow breathing—looking around as though seeking an escape. Her mannerisms are familiar, too familiar.

Anthony escorts Edwina to the promenade as William escorts you. Your disposition even lower than before somehow. William stops in his tracks, crossing his arms. You stop not looking up, just waiting for him to rejoin you. When he does not, you look up with a frown.

“I’ve never seen you so, so gloomy. There must be some form of an insult or jest just charging up in there,” William smiles gently, watching as you shake your head, lowering your gaze. “Do you wish to talk about it?”

You sigh as the two of you walk again, nodding your head slowly, “My grandparents are just awful. Overcritical and impossible to please. I’m in no mood for them presently.”

“Well then, before the impending doom that comes from your grandparents' presence, perhaps you shall humor me?” William asks, standing on the ports and gesturing to the secured rowboat. “If I become insufferable, I will happily allow you to throw me overboard.”

“Promise?” You say quietly, fighting the grin that takes your lips as William smirks.

“You have my word,” He says, offering his hand out to her. She takes it, allowing him to help her into the board. He then gets in himself, untying the rope and pushing off the port. “In the colder season, this freezes over. It’s rather fun to step on the top of the ice and glide around. I tend to fall a lot doing it, but it’s all in good fun, I swear it.”

“Really?” The laugh that leaves your lips appears foreign, replacing your petulant stares. You look over the side of the water, picturing William struggling to stay atop the frozen terrain.

“Careful, you’re tilting the boat,” William says, raising an eyebrow. You smirk. Your eyes shine with a glint of mischief.

“What, like this?” You say, shifting your weight from one side to the other William gives grips the edge of the boat, giving you a hard stare. After a few seconds, it melts into a grin as he dips his hand in the water, splashing it up at you. You squeal, shielding your face as you splash water up at him. The two of you laugh like giddy children, gaining the attention of the many who walk around the promenade.

Kate chaperones Edwina and Anthony. They watch the two of you. Anthony’s gaze does not leave your form. Edwina’s words fall on deaf ears as he locks onto your laughter. Your younger sister gasping, pulls Anthony back into the present as the boat overturns, sending both you and William into the water. Both you and William resurface, laughing infectiously, not caring how everyone watches the two of you.

“You tipped the boat over, not me!” You exclaim, helping William push the boat toward the port.

“Says the one who insisted on rocking the boat,” William playfully scoffs as the two of you near the port flipping the boat right side up. You look up, grinning as Kate shakes her head at you, and Edwina happily points out your better mood.

“It seems you always know how to lift her spirits, Lord Beauregard,” Edwina says with a smile. William smiles at your sister, giving her a polite nod, his smile lessening as his gaze moves to Anthony.

“Miss Sharma, please allow me,” Anthony says, offering his hand out to you as he bends down. You stare at it, set on ignoring it, but Kate gives you a look as she gestures to the wandering eyes around you all. Accepting his hand begrudgingly, you quickly pull away from him, standing next to Kate. Your dress clings to you, dripping water down your entire body. William climbs onto the pier turning to fasten the boat back to the log, but Anthony’s already tying it tight.

“Fret not, friend. You always did struggle with tying knots,” The dig’s not lost on you nor Kate. You glare at Anthony, chewing on the inside of your cheek. Anthony and William stare at each other, the tension high as you look around, noticing the other onlookers growing. You narrow your eyes, stepping forward and pushing your palm against Anthony’s side. He stumbles forward into William, the two crashing into the lake.

Your jaw drops as they hurdle into the water, Edwina exclaiming your name as you fail to fight back your laughter. The water splashing up at the three of you, only fueling your amusement. Kate's eyes widen as her gaze bounces between you and the two lords in the water.

Anthony plants his hands flat on the pier glaring up at you as he lifts himself up first. His soaking-wet shirt now sheer, leaving nothing to the imagination. Kate nudges your side, reminding both you and Edwina of the inappropriate nature of staring. Even as the words leave her lips, the three of you shamelessly watch him. The show not ending as William pulls himself up. It’s wrong, oh so wrong, but every passing thought in your mind bubbles, leaving a warmth at your core.

“That was fun,” Smiling, you look between your sisters, who both shake their heads at you. Kate suggests it’s time to head back in worry of you getting sick. Your dress still drips water as you casually bounce on the balls of your feet. In the carriage, you sit next to Kate, resting your head on her shoulder while gently kicking Edwina’s feet.

“Bon, your hair is still wet,” Kate sighs, failing to shrug you off. Edwina giggles softly, moving her feet as you follow hers.

“Quite observant, Miss Sharma,” You chuckle, rubbing your hair against her side, earning a groan as she pushes you away. Edwina covers her soft chuckles with her hand as she watches the two of you. The carriage ride’s mostly quiet beyond a few snickers and Kate’s annoyance with your persistence.

Back at Lady Danbury’s, you openly gape at the sight of an indisputable fact—you are indeed your mothers' child. For hours your mother rushes around like a mad woman. She rushes about the house between making sure you all wear the perfect dress to the intricate styles of your hair and the jewelry you accessorize with. Not a single thing out of place, snarkily reminding you that today’s not the day for nonsense, as she calls it.

Kate offers you a weak smile as you roll your eyes grumbling beneath your breath. If either your mother or Kate dislikes the Sheffields more than you, they hide it well. The last time you can recall seeing them at the ripe age of five, you glared at them for the entirety of your visit. Their interest only stemming from the gossip about your exciting personality, to later deem you unruly. You never did understand why your mother even sent you there. The damage—irreversible.

“It’s just one dinner,” Kate says, fiddling gently with your hair smoothing out every little menial imperfection.

“Yes, one dinner of those people we have to call family scrutinizing every little detail about us. About mother. About you,” You take a deep breath, your expression hardening as you swallow dryly. Edwina enters the room doing a light twirl, her smile large. There’s a clear difference between who can remember meeting the Sheffields and who does not. Edwina’s smile falters at the sight of your pensive stare. She walks, placing her hands on your shoulders with an encouraging smile.

“There is still time to take a small nap if you need didi. I can distract Mama,” Edwina says, chuckling softly as you shake your head, leaning your head onto her hand.

“I appreciate it, bon, but I know a nap will do nothing but agitate me further,” You glance at the door watching your mother jet past. A chuckle leaves your lips, “And quite frankly, Mama as well.”

“Edwina dear, I need to speak with your sister alone,” Your mother enters the room, taking a deep breath as she softly pants. Edwina smiles, nodding her head and leaving the room without a further word. Lady Mary looks at you with her lips pursed.

“I know, Mother. I do not require further instructions for dinner tonight. Be punctual, proper, and pleasant,” You huff, crossing your arms. Lady Mary sighs, walking over. She takes your hands.

“Oh, my wildflower child, you are all those things. I’ve come not to lecture you but to check on you. I know you carry strong feelings about my parents, and if at any point this dinner is too much, you do not have to stay for the entirety of it,” She says softly. You know her words are untrue. To leave dinner so abruptly would only further their thoughts of you.

“Right, so they can nod their heads and look down on me as the defective one of their bloodline. I will not,” Your words are sharp and tense. You stand with perfect posture. Lady Mary shakes her head, but her protests mean nothing, do nothing. You stand, appearing the complete antithesis of the girl everyone knows. “If I could get through two weeks of your parents as a child, then I can get through one dinner. I no longer wish to continue discussing this topic, Mother.”

She takes a half step back from you, keeping your hands in hers. The glint in her eyes as familiar as the one all those years ago when you returned home, guilt. She does not say another word. Nodding her head, she kisses the tops of your hands softly before leaving the room. You fan yourself with your hands, the room uncomfortably hot. The faint tremble of your hands clear as you clasp them in front of you, taking a long deep breath.

After a few minutes, you leave the room in search of your sisters. Lady Danbury smiles, walking with her cane as she calls out to you. She compliments your appearance, the rich red gown complimenting your skin tone. Lady Danbury wears her knowing smirk with a present glint in her eyes, seemingly always present. The two of you enter the room together, clearly interrupting your sisters. Lady Danbury smiles as you appear ready to walk the plank.

“Our guests have arrived,” Lady Danbury announces with a large smile. Her eyes solely on Edwina, who giggles with a giddy smile, leaving the room hastily. Before either of you can follow, Lady Danbury's hand shoots out, halting you as she sidesteps Kate. Her smile falls as eyes look between the two of you.

“You may spare us the instruction, Lady Danbury. We know we are to be on our best behavior,” Kate says with a polite smile. You bite the inside of your cheek, staring off with a blank expression.

“You think me an unfeeling harridan,” She says to Kate before turning to look at you, “and you hide from me as though I see right through you. Well, ladies, I am hosting this dinner for both your sakes.”

“You know nothing of my relationship with those people,” You scoff, glaring up at her.

“And yet I do,” Lady Danbury says, her gaze softening just a tad. Mother told her. You look away from her crossing your arms as you shift on the balls of your feet. “Going forward, Edwina’s betrothal may be the end of certain hopes you’ve harbored regarding the Viscount but access to the Sheffield fortune.”

“I want nothing to do with those people or the Viscount. I will take a lifetime of struggle before I am under the Sheffields' control or ruin this for Edwina. You speak so far out of place,” You narrow your eyes at her, but she merely chuckles.

“Oh dear, you can do better than that. Dear, the life of independence you seek is close, Kate. And you (Y/n)? You have been presented with an opportunity of a lifetime. A marriage to a royal. Security for the rest of your life and full independence from your grandparents. I implore you both to think of the reward of the coming events. Think of your futures. Deny the feelings and passions as you please, but once it cools. You dear have an abundant future ahead of you, where you and your sisters are happy,” Lady Danbury stands in front of both of you. Nostalgia dances in her eyes as she smiles with a bittersweetness to her expression. You blink away the heat in your eyes, taking a deep breath to will away the bundle of nerves that dance in your stomach. When neither of you says a word, Lady Danbury smiles once more, “Come along, girls, it’s time for dinner.”

In the hallway, Edwina follows closely behind Lady Danbury. Her light pink dress sparkling in the warm candlelight. You walk with your arm folded into Kate’s, your jewel-tone gowns matching just as much as your forced polite smiles.

“Ah, Lord and Lady Sheffield, it has been too long,” Lady Danbury’s jubilant demeanor easing the suffocating tension. Not long enough, in any other circumstance, these words leave your lips, but now? Now you keep your head high and posture statue-like, “May I present Miss Sharma, Miss (Y/n), and Miss Edwina Sharma.”

You and Edwina stand before your grandparents with differing expressions as Lady and Lord Sheffield take you both in.

“Oh, my dears, look at the two of you. Aren’t they lovely?” Lady Sheffield gushes, looking between the two of you. You meet Lord Sheffield's gaze, both of you eyeing the other with similar scrutiny. Edwina voices pleasantries for the both of you. Their questions and invitations flowed quickly, evidently aimed at Edwina. They remember you just as vividly as you remember them. Still, you keep your head high, posture perfect, and expression neutral.

“Mother. Father,” Your mother greets them, leaving a chilling silence in her wake.

“I do enjoy the opera. My sister Kate is the one who introduced me to it,” Edwina says, maintaining her high spirits as she smiles over at Kate. Your jaw clenches at the forced smile Lady Sheffield sends Kate’s way, her disapproval coated in honey. Another painstakingly loud silence follows before Lady Danbury recommends they all head to the dinner table. Her diversion from the simmering tension was swift, temporarily successful.

You meet Anthony’s gaze, offering a mocking smile before following behind the others. His eyes follow you into the room, a soft sigh leaving his lips as you join Kate’s side. Edwina walks hand in hand with Lady Sheffield, who dotes upon her.

At the table, Kate sits to your right, with Lady Sheffield to your left. To your further misfortune, Anthony sits in front of you. You ignore the hole he stares into your head at the start of dinner.

“And, of course, you must be our guests at the Sheffield Manor. It is nothing compared to the estates at Aubrey Hall, to be sure, but I think it a most pretty part of Hertfordshire,” You stare at the place setting as though it’s the most incredible thing you have ever seen. Analyzing every minuscule detail of the fall colors as a better alternative to the active conversation. If you notice the glances from Kate and Anthony, you do not show it.

“Do you shoot? We a have a fine stock of birds, and you're always welcome,” Lord Sheffield says, his voice booming through the dining room. Anthony’s gaze flicks from you to your grandfather. He thanks Lord Sheffield for the invitation, expressing his enjoyment in shooting.

“Kate and (Y/n) do as well. (Y/n) is an excellent tracker, and Kate, a great shot. A most efficient duo. All three of them nearly bagged a stag on our trip to the country,” Edwina looks at you, smiling. You mirror her smile before lowering your gaze once more. The cold food and untouched table setting sit staring back at you. Lady Sheffield's mirthless chuckle fills your ears as she looks over at you. Her faux saccharine smile and words pointed, “How unusual. Do they teach young ladies to hunt and shoot in India?”

“Only the fortunate ones,” Kate mutters, snickering; you bite the inside of your cheek. It’s the first real smile on your lips all night. You catch your mothers' smirk at Kate, her gaze shifting to you. She wears a soft smile.

“Uh, Lord and Lady Sheffield, how long do you plan to stay in town?” Kate asks politely. You reach for your cup of wine, taking a long sip. Say in the morning, preferably in the hour.

“Oh, we shall stay for the wedding. And of course, for (Y/n)’s when she weds the Queen’s nephew,” Lady Sheffield speaks definitely with merriment to her tone. She speaks as though she’s boasting of something she’s accomplished as if she knows you—any of you truly.

“I have yet to decide if I will accept his proposal,” Your neutral facade wavers, your jaw clenching once more. The grip on your glass so tight that the brown of your knuckles shines white.

“Oh nonsense dear, you shall not let such a generous offer pass you,” Lady Sheffield chuckles as though she shares a beautiful joke. Only Lord Sheffield laughs. You take a deep breath covering your grimace with another long sip of wine. The bounce of your leg beneath the tablecloth gently rattles the glass atop the table. To your disdain, Lady Sheffield continues, “Imagine. The Queen herself overseeing my granddaughter's nuptials and welcoming my other granddaughter into her own family, with all things considered. Her majesty is kind to be so forgiving after everything that has happened.”

“Now, now. We are all family here,” Lord Sheffield says. You finish your wine, letting out a long shaky sigh. To your surprise, your grandfather tries and fails to deter his wife.

“An earl, no less than twelve thousand acres. Any other young lady would’ve fallen to her knees in gratitude that her parents were showing such care,” Lady Sheffield says. You glance at your mother, your patience thinning by the second. She shakes her head slightly. Lady Violet's attempts to switch the topic falls on ears, your deep breaths growing louder. Even Lady Danbury tries to engage Lady Sheffield in pleasant conversation, but it’s clear the elephant in the room will not be ignored. “And all for what? A mere clerk, was he? And with a child from a previous marriage to God-knows-who.”

“My mother has a name,” Kate maintains an even tone, her shoulders squaring as you now openly glare at your grandmother. The wine warms your skin, shoving you closer to your wit's end.

“We could not show our faces in society for years. Not that she should care. She simply sailed away from all of us with that man,” Lady Sheffields says, your fist hitting the table with a loud bang. Reveling in how she flinches, her eyes widen at your nerve. The room stills, all eyes on you.

“That man is my father, and you do well to speak of him with reverence. You cry about appearance in society when you ignore your beautiful family in favor of acrimonious feelings toward the glue that holds the three of us together. Kate may not share our mother, but she is the very best of us. So you will not sit here and speak ill of her before me,” You practically hiss your words as you stare at your grandmother. There’s so much more that you must say that you want to say, but as always, you are never truly heard.

“Dear, we do not aim to hurt you or your half-sister. It is your mother who sailed away with that man robbing us of our two grandchildren.” Lady Sheffield ignores your comment about your father, omitting him entirely. The tenderness in her words like poison in your ears.

“Three. Your three grandchildren. I have three daughters with whom you have had every opportunity to form a connection. Like a fool, I sent one of them in hopes of you all fostering a connection only for her to return, unlike herself. But at the end of it all, the choice to shun us was yours alone,” Your mother speaks with an impressive blend of being stern and soft-spoken. “And do not think I took it lightly being cast out by the only family I had ever known. I was heartbroken, indeed. But in time, I came to see that, in your cruelty, you did us all a great service.”

“Mother, you require no explanation for these people,” You say, earning a warm smile from your mother as she looks at you.

“I have always admired your warrior spirit, my sweet girl, but this is not your fight,” Lady Mary says. You nod your head swallowing thickly as Lord Sheffield tries to dissuade you all from continuing. Your mother stares at her own, “When you cast me out, you set me free. Free to raise my daughters far from your constant judgment and craven demands that they should chase wealth and titles above all else!”

You smile to yourself. Never had you seen your mother so defiant. Never had you felt so close to her, so like her. Lady Sheffield scoffs, “You are a fine one to talk. You turn your nose up at my parenting but look at your children. The child not of this family is a spinster who muddles the very integrity and reputation of your own daughters. (Y/n) shoots and speaks with volatility unbecoming of a young lady. It’s a miracle she has the prospect of securing English nobility? It is clear Edwina will succeed, and I will always question the very foundation of how with such influences.”

Unbecoming. Unfit. Unworthy.

The words ring loudly in your ears, inhaling sharply, the table squabble no longer reaches you. Your shoulders drop as your stomach turns. Lady Sheffield rehashing the terms of yours and Edwina’s trust fund barely reaching you. You swallow the burn in your throat, struggling to blink away the water that wells in your eyes. Gaze low; the high-pitched ringing in your ears—disorienting.

“That is enough!” Anthony’s voice rips you from your own head. He looks from your grandmother to meet your teary-eyed gaze. His own only softens for a second at the sight of you before turning back to your grandparents, his expression one of frustration, “I can only think you’ve been exiled from good society because of your deficient manners rather than any other sin. Since the moment you arrived, you have failed to show the proper respect for the Sharma family and I will not stand for it.”

“I declare—“ Lord Sheffield says.

“I will not stand for it. Lady Mary has done admirably in raising her daughters. They are intelligent, kind, and loyal women. A credit to both their parents. And since you clearly do not wish to jeopardize your social standing by associating with such company, I suggest you do not. You may leave at once!” Anthony declares, staring at him. Your head spins as it did that night in Aubrey Hall. The weight of your reality harrowing as you glance at Edwina. Anthony rises from his chair. Your grandmother voices her disbelief as he walks away from the table. Standing by the door, he calls out, “Please send for Lord and Lady Sheffield’s carriage. They can wait outside. And do not trouble yourself waiting for an invitation to the wedding, for you shall not receive one.”

Your mother’s the first to apologize, but Anthony sternly announces he and his mother will be departing immediately. The tension in the air far more thick than it began. Your mother and Kate run after Edwina leaving you and Lady Danbury alone. After a few seconds, you exit the room without a further word, ignoring her knowing stare. You do not realize where your feet carry you through the corridors until you see the back of Lady Violet and Anthony.

“Lord Bridgerton, a word,” You call out, narrowing your eyes as he disregards you, “I have spent this night being insulted and humiliated. All I’m asking for is a moment of your time.”

“I owe you nothing,” Anthony huffs, looking back at you. You tilt your head, not needing to say, but you do with actual words. He pauses, sighing before telling his mother he will meet her at their home. You walk him to one of the many side rooms, your words leaving you quickly as you assure him Edwina did not know.

“It is clear she was as much in the dark as I. I am not upset with your sister. Is there something further you wish to discuss?” Anthony speaks sternly, his hands behind his back as he glowers at you.

Your eyebrows furrow, his understanding words not matching his expression. You continue cautiously, “No, uh, I just wanted to thank you for what you did back in there.”

“That is of no import. I take it there’ll be no dowry. Now that the Sheffields have withdrawn their support,” He speaks mechanically, like a cog in the machine of English nobility. You open your mouth, but no words leave you, “I’ll take your silence as confirmation. Clearly, both Miss Edwina and I have been misled, and it is best to call off this doomed engagement.”

“Oh, now you suddenly lack the desire to wed my sister,” You scoff, shaking your head, narrowing your eyes at him, “I am many things, but a fool is not one. Something is happening between us, and you’re using this lapse as an out for the mess you put us in.”

“Says the one who weaponizes her disdain for marriage as a tool against her grandparents,” He counters his accusatory tone and steps forward, doing little to faze you.

“The resentment of my grandparents and my resulting outlook on marriage is of no consequence to our dilemma. You are to wed Edwina, and I am to return to India with Kate,” You watch as his jaw clenches at the mention of India. Rolling your eyes, you huff, “Why do you insist upon casting Edwina aside?”

“You are the very source of all my strenuous relationships. I jeopardize my longest and dearest friendship due to your very presence. Your sister, Kathani, battles me daily not against my union with Miss Edwina but how I look upon you. Now you wish me to bind myself to you for all eternity, doomed to never have you in the light to which I desire. I am a gentleman. My father raised me to act with honor, but that honor thins and weakens with every interaction we share. Vanquishing you from my mind proves to be futile, as you plague my being without endless.” You move away from pacing faintly as you shake your head. His eyes stay on you, longing—pleading for a response.

“No, Lord Bridgerton. I cannot—I will not take part in this dalliance any longer. You confuse your feelings. Edwina is who you seek,” You speak barely above a whisper, your voice catching in your throat as he steps closer again. His hand on your cheek.

“Yet you are who I found. You challenge my feelings, yet you make no objection to my close proximity. You told your sister you intend to bend my nerves till they break. Miss Sharma, they have broken. Give me your love, hate, disgust. I want it all as long as it comes from you, only from you. You are infectious and come without a cure,” He whispers, his lips ghosting over your own. Shamelessly allowing him to drink you in, and as fast as the moment comes, it goes. He pulls away, walking hastily to the door, his words low, “I must take my leave.”

You let out a breath you had not been aware of holding. Your hand comes to cover your lips as your tears flow. The door opens once more, but you do not look up, uncaring of who has found you.

“Oh, Bon,” Kate says at your side. She pulls you into her arms. She knows the looks, the pauses, the warnings—Kate’s known all along.

“Didi, I fear you have been right. The Viscount and I dance around feelings I cannot explain nor reveal to Bon. I have ruined everything. I will ruin everything.” Kate shushes you softly, cradling you in her arms like an injured animal. When she finally coaxes you to walk with her to your shared room, you cannot meet Edwina’s eye inside.

“Oh, Didi,” Edwina gasps, taking your hands as she leans down, attempting to meet your gaze. You squeeze your eyes shut, taking a deep breath in as you build your courage.

“Bon, I fear you will hate me, but you must know I carried no intention to keep this from you so—” Your voice wavers as you still fail to meet her eye. Once the words are out, you cannot hide them. Not from Edwina, not from yourself.

“Didi, I could never hate you. I understand your disdain against marriage now, and once I am married to the Viscount, there will be ample funds to provide for all of us,” Her words strike you quickly. You say her name softly, but she shakes her head, “I want nothing more than to be his wife. His Viscountess. But first, he must forgive us. Do you think he will?”

Kate glances at you, your teary-eyed expression hardening. Before your sister's eyes, you bury it. You bury it so deep that not even looking in the mirror will show you signs of it. You clear your throat nodding your head, “He will. I will make certain of it, Bon.”

You lay with Edwina in her bed, rubbing her scalp as you soothe her to bed. As sleep captures her, you look at Kate. Mouthing your words, ending the previous conversation for good.

“He must marry Edwina.”

168 notes · View notes

atlabeth · 10 months

Text

(not so) simple pt3 - anthony bridgerton

pt1 pt2 pt4

summary: coercing lord bridgerton into pretending to court you to avoid the affections of a baron is very simple — that is, until it isn’t.

a/n: so first of all let me apologize for how long it took for this to come out. literally nine months. a whole baby has passed. i lost my bridgerton inspo HARD but like i always want anthony bridgerton even if it's deep within me and that just came through today as i finally pushed through and finished it. hopefully you guys still care about this series because i sure do and the end is in sight, like i literally have most of it written i just have to do the in between parts and connect it all and this horrible wonderful terrible amazing mini series that has killed me will be done. anyways here she is and i hope you enjoy!!

wc: 9.7k

warning(s): historical inaccuracies, fluff, angst, a lil bit of violence/injuries, a cliffhanger that will make you want to kill me. yn is going kind of crazy because she's never felt pleasant emotions before

The next month was akin to a blur. With each day your mother grew more and more excited about your courtship with Anthony, so much so she’d even begun knitting a blanket as a wedding gift to the Bridgertons.

(When she’d first told you about it over dinner, you’d nearly choked. You were beginning to dread telling her the truth more than you dreaded your fake courtship).

That, perhaps, was beginning to become a lie. Dread was not the proper word for how you felt about your courtship.

It was still strange, knowing that everyone around you believed you and Anthony were to be married. Though your secret was still one well-kept, you could hardly contain yourself whenever you overheard snide remarks with you at the center—it seemed they had still not gotten over the fact that their precious opportunity at becoming a Bridgerton had been stolen by you. Perhaps their daughters would get their chance in the next season, once you and Anthony had broken things off.

But that was not enough to hold his image in the same sour view as before.

Anthony was irritating as ever, yes, and but he was no longer the mere rake, the sarcastic older brother who firmly believed you were running out of time, the womanizer Lady Whistledown painted him as.

At least, you did not see him as such. He certainly did not act that way around you anymore.

Anthony Bridgerton was lighter around you—he smiled more, laughed more, joked around with you in a way that Benedict told you he hadn’t seen in years. And of course, he was only able to tell you that because Anthony brought you along on outings with his family.

The Worthings had always been friendly throughout the years with the Bridgertons, especially because of your closeness with Eloise and, more so when you were younger and before her debut, Daphne. You were fond of the rest of the family as well, Benedict and Colin looking on you fondly as that of an annoying younger sister much like Eloise—you were happy to fill the role. Francesca was pleasant when she wasn’t off traveling, and Gregory and Hyacinth were always a delight. Hyacinth seemed more attached to you because of the courtship, and truly looked forward to welcoming you as a sister.

Anthony had always been the older brother that foiled your fun with Eloise, that urged you to take your role more seriously if for no other reason than to influence Eloise down the path as well.

Now you felt closer than ever to him, and though it was merely for your ruse, you couldn’t help but enjoy it.

Stranger yet, though, was how your image of Anthony had changed since that first dance the night you agreed to this ruse. When at first you could only stand his company because of the promise of continuous jabs and protection from suitors, you now found that you actually… enjoyed being around him. You recalled the night out in the Bridgerton gardens with Anthony far more than you should have.

He certainly had no right to keep you awake at such late hours the way he did.

You no longer despaired early wakings to promenade with him, no longer wrinkled your nose at the prospect of dancing with him. Though you still dreaded the glitz and the glamour of the ton all the same, Anthony himself did not spurn the same response.

Of that, you did not know exactly what to think, but you supposed the absence of misery was something to celebrate.

You and the viscount were becoming friends. You enjoyed his presence. You began to look forward to your next outing with him, time spent with him outweighing your dislike of early wakings.

You were a frequent visitor of Bridgerton family outings because of your friendship with Eloise, and you only found yourself more involved with their picnics and promenades through Anthony.

Invitations found their way to your doorstep far more often because of the Bridgerton name attached to yours, and you found you enjoyed them more on Anthony’s arm.

You attended operas together in their private box. He frequently called on you, leading to conversations in your drawing room and promenades all about. You dined with them at least once a week, always sitting next to Anthony and whispering things to each other throughout.

In addition to the time you spent with Eloise, your proximity to the Bridgertons, especially Anthony, was near constant.

And you enjoyed every moment of it.

Truly, there was something very wrong with you.

But perhaps the strangest of all was your newfound fame. If there were ever any hope of keeping your ruse even the slightest bit secret, it was crushed by virtue of Lady Whistledown, who aided you with your most fantastical feat yet—you were mentioned by name in every single edition she’d published since the night you and Anthony partook in your first dance together. The ton knew you well now, far too well, and even when you were not around the viscount you were attuned to the glances and whispers of gossips.

You found it interesting how easily you had become a source of intrigue, simply because it looked as if you were the object of Anthony’s affections—but you also found it largely annoying. You did not much like the attention.

Running off to the country sounded better and better with every passing day.

“I swear,” you muttered as you went through the stack of pamphlets, “news of our relationship makes up half of Whistledown’s repertoire these days. Truly, we should get a cut of her wages for providing so much material for her.”

Anthony’s lips quirked up in a smile. The two of you were sat in your drawing room, chaperoned as usual by Julia, a stack containing each edition of Lady Whistledown during the length of the season set between the two of you. It was past the traditional hours of a caller, but the “advancement” of your “relationship” allowed Anthony leeway. He had brought with him yet another pamphlet of Lady Whistledown, which Eloise had confronted him with after getting her hands on it.

“We do seem to be quite popular,” he agreed. “But at least that will make it easier for the news of our parting to spread.”

“I just wish she did not make it so dramatic,” you huffed, and you picked up the most recent edition that Anthony had brought. You brought up the pitch of your voice and made your accent as haughty as possible as you read the printed words:

“The mystery that is the Viscount Bridgerton and Miss Worthing continues to unravel. The two were sighted together in a box at the newly redecorated Adelphi Theatre, admiring the opening night of Rossini’s Tancredi. I begrudgingly commend them on the taste in opera; I too, am a fan of Voltaire. One can only wonder the sort of activity they commenced in with their privacy.”

Anthony allowed himself a laugh as you shook your head and let out a sigh. “It’s ridiculous. She makes it sound as if we are engaging in the most scandalous behavior there is, when we were merely watching the opera! The only activity we commenced in was discussion.” You set the pamphlet down on the table with a huff. “It was quite intellectual discussion, if I do say so myself.”

“Certainly,” he said with a nod, and he smiled wryly. “Are you saying you are not a fan of all this attention, though? Surely it is your dream for every member of the ton to know of you and your exploits.”

“I am certainly not—” you began, but your attention was drawn to the doors as your mother walked inside.

“Lord Bridgerton!” she exclaimed as a smile tugged at her lips. Though your mother looked happy, you saw through the practiced expression—she held a letter in her hands, turning it over and over as if to calm nervous energy. “How lovely to see you here.”

“It is just as lovely to see you, Lady Worthing,” Anthony greeted, the charm flowing effortlessly through his words. “And may I just say how effervescent you look, even at this late hour?”

Your mother smiled. “You know exactly what to say to get yourself out of trouble, don’t you?”

“It is a virtue,” Anthony joked, and when he stood up you did as well. “I apologize if I have overstayed my welcome—I simply enjoy your daughter’s presence far too much. She is a sure credit to your family.”

“Oh, it is of no mind,” she said, brushing her hand through the air. “I always enjoy having the Bridgertons over. You are no exception.”

“You flatter me so, Lady Worthing, but I must insist I take my leave.” He bowed to her and then turned to you, taking your hand in his and pressing a delicate kiss to the back of your palm. “I bid you a good night, my lady.”

You suppressed the flutter in your chest at his touch. Your hands were typically gloved whenever you held hands during dances or promenades, but not at this hour. His lips against your bare skin made your breath catch for a moment, even for such a slight occurrence.

“I can escort you to the door,” you said, smiling through the uncertainty in your chest.

Anthony nodded, a small smile on his lips as well. “I welcome your company, my lady.”

Anthony offered his arm and you took it, and you could sense the excitement from your mother even from afar.

“Do not stay out too long, you two!” she called with a grin as you strolled out the door, and you had to stifle your laugh.

“You are going to be the death of me, Miss Worthing,” Anthony murmured in your ear as you walked out, his breath tickling your skin.

“Not if you get to me first,” you countered.

“I think the opposite is far more likely,” he said.

“How so?” you said, feigning disbelief. “You are the one keeping me up past natural hours with your presence. You are the one dragging me with you into Whistledown infamy.”

“But you are the one who got me into this in the first place.” Anthony glanced at you. “Quite the predicament, I might say.”

“Oh, do not act as if you are not enjoying it by now,” you said. “We are friends at this point, yes?”

A small smile quirked on his lips. “I suppose so.”

Again, that warmth in your chest. If Anthony knew, he would surely understand that he was far more likely to be your undoing than the other way around.

You reached the doors, and when you opened one and peeked outside, there was a notable absence of a carriage.

“My deepest apologies Viscount Bridgerton.” You turned around to see your head maid hurrying across the floor, slightly out of breath. “There has been a miscommunication between our two estates—your carriage will arrive, but it will be delayed. It should not be too long a wait, albeit, but—”

“It is of no worry,” Anthony interrupted, bowing his head. “I thank you for your dedication. Please, enjoy the rest of your night.”

She looked to you for confirmation and you nodded. “Thank you, Emma. You can retire for the night.”

She smiled gratefully. “I appreciate your kindness, my lady. It shall be here soon.”

You let go of Anthony’s arm as she began walking to the servant’s quarters and you pushed the door open again.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“We have time to waste,” you said, looking back at him mischievously. “Do you trust me?”

“…You make it seem as if I shouldn’t,” Anthony said.

“Oh, relax. We have some time to ourselves and a night sky above us. Surely you can indulge me once.”

“I believe I have indulged you far more than once,” Anthony said, but he followed you anyway. He planted his hand against the door, taking the weight off of yours, and for some reason even that act made you take a deep breath.

Thank God for the cool air, you thought hastily as you stepped outside, because your cheeks were burning for no good reason.

“I apologize on Emma’s behalf for the delay,” you said, thankful that he was following slightly behind you. “The Worthing estate has been in a state of disarray lately. I try to help around, but my mother insists it’s not my place.”

“I already said it was a nonissue,” Anthony said, and you bit your lip as he took a step closer and put you on equal ground. You’d no idea what was wrong with you.

“And I thank you for your continued grace, but I still feel as if I must apologize anyway,” you said. “You likely know of our… monetary issues.”

His brows knit together. “Of course, but that means nothing. Of your status, I mean.”

You smiled a bit. “To you, perhaps. But my mother is so ashamed of our lack of staff, she hardly ever has her friends over for tea anymore. We’ve never been able to afford much, but we had to let many of our staff go over the past summer.”

“It is noticeable. You’ve no doormen, few maids and servants,” Anthony said. “But it shouldn’t matter to any true gentleman.”

“I suppose that makes you a true gentleman, doesn’t it?” you said playfully.

Anthony chuckled. “After all the years my mother has spent trying to turn me into one, she would certainly hope so.”

“That is why this is all such a problem.” You glanced at him. “Why my mother is so delighted of our courtship. She believes you will be my— our entire family’s— saving grace upon marriage.”

“Quite the burden upon us,” he said dryly, though his words did not hold the usual humor. There was a certain solemnity about him.

“Indeed.” You sighed. “Our ruse frees me from the hand of other men for this season, but there is still the problem of… of what awaits.” You wrapped your arms around yourself, the night chill beginning to get to you along with something else. “I am certain I will think of a plan eventually, but still I worry more each day of what I will do when it is all over.”

Anthony didn’t say anything, and you didn’t fill the silence though you felt his gaze upon you. Suddenly, though, you felt the heaviness of fabric over your arms.

Anthony’s jacket, you realized when you looked at him. Your lips parted, words stuck in your throat, but he didn’t give you the chance to get them out.

“You were cold,” he shrugged, answering your question before you could ask it. “It would be unfathomably rude to force my dearest betrothed to freeze.”

“You noticed,” you said.

“Always,” Anthony said.

You care.

You could not help but stare at him, if not just for a moment, because— because God, the man was beautiful. There lay no use in denying it. There was a reason that, despite being the ton’s most infamous rake, he was still so desired by countless ladies.

His eyes almost as dark as the night around you holding a kindness he didn’t share with many, his white undershirt with slightly-rolled sleeves in stark contrast to it all, the curve of his jaw and the slope of his nose and the barest coif of his chestnut hair.

He was beautiful, and he was the one thing you could not have.

“Miss Worthing?”

Which did not matter, because you did not want him.

“My apologies.” You blinked and cleared your throat, Anthony breaking you out of your spell, and you gestured with your head as you continued along your way. Heat burned inside of you, all the way from the tips of your ears to the soles of your feet, and you could hardly stand it.

“You seem… distracted,” he said.

That was one way to describe it.

“Apologies,” you repeated with the slightest of smiles. “I’m merely… in my head, is all.”

This was all fake. You had to remember that, even if you had to bash it into your head for it to stick. The charm practically oozed off of him, and though you’d been near immune to it when you were able to despise Anthony, it was much more difficult not to fall victim to it now that you considered each other… friends.

You are a lady, and he is a gentleman, you could picture your mother saying. It is nature’s oldest tale. There is no shame in it.

He is my brother, and you hate him, you heard Eloise scoffing in the same vein. The thought made you smile.

“Where are you taking me, Miss Worthing?” Anthony’s coy voice brought you out of your stupor once again, and you blinked.

As you looked around, you realized you’d already made it there. You turned to Anthony with a smile, your hands out as you gestured at the open field of grass behind your estate.

“Isn’t it obvious?” you asked. “I’ve brought you here to stargaze.”

“Stargazing,” he repeated, and he laughed a bit. “I’ve never…”

“You’ve never stargazed?” you finished, and he nodded. “It makes sense. A serious viscount such as yourself cannot be bothered with such frivolities.”

Anthony shrugged. “If you enjoy it, I would love to try.”

“It isn’t something you try so much as you just do,” you said as you sat down on the ground. You smoothed out your skirts and then looked up at Anthony, amused by the expression on his face.

“It’s alright, my lord,” you said. “I promise, the grass will not hurt you. My maids have worked out many a stain in my youth, so I assure you that will be alright as well.”

“I have a carriage coming,” he said.

“They can wait,” you said. “Can they not?”

He hesitated for a moment, and then his lips quirked into the slightest smile as he took a seat next to you. You took his hand, ignoring the skip of your heart, and you pulled him back so you were both lying down.

“How do you feel?” you asked. “Have you fallen ill yet?”

“Very funny,” Anthony said wryly. “I am just fine. Your worries are much appreciated.”

“I would never worry about the great Viscount Bridgerton,” you said haughtily. “He has everything handled at all times.”

“Hardly,” he countered, and he let out a sigh. “Lately it seems as if I’ve got nothing handled at all.”

You made a noncommittal noise. “Then you are quite the actor, my lord. You’re very good at looking perfect.”

“You think I look perfect?”

You turned your head to see Anthony looked at you, a sly smile on his lips, and though your rolled your eyes you could not hold back your amusement.

“Yes, Viscount Bridgerton,” you said playfully. “Quite perfect.”

“It is good to know that my betrothed no longer hates me.” Anthony allowed one of his hands to rest in the grass, and you could feel his eyes on you.

“Oh, we are not betrothed yet,” you said offhandedly. “The way my mother acts, though, you would certainly think so.”

“Well, then,” Anthony said, “would you further prove your devotion by showing me some of your constellations?”

You chuckled. “Of course.”

Your gaze turned to the sky, squinting slightly as you searched for your favorite. When you did, you made a sound of triumph and you sat up on your elbows. “There— do you see those?

He frowned as he pushed himself up as well, and in his focus he unconsciously leaned closer to you. “I do not see anything,” Anthony said, and you laughed.

“Right…” you shifted closer to him, and you took his hand in yours as you held it up to the sky. “There.” You traced the outline with his finger, and you glanced at him. “Do you see it now?”

“I do, but…” Anthony’s lips twitched into a smile for a moment. “It is just… lines. A triangle with lines.”

You laughed, full and bright. “It is, that much is true. But it is the constellation of Libra, in relation to astrology.”

“I did not know you were educated on astrology.”

“Oh, I am certainly not,” you said. “But it is the sign of my mother’s birth month, and it was the first constellation she taught me to find. Now, it is always the first one I seek out on nights such as these.”

His eyebrows rose ever so slightly. “You used to stargaze with your mother?”

You hadn’t truly realized the implications of what you’d said until his words, and you paused for a moment before you took your hand away from his and laid back down.

“It is alright if you do not want to talk about it,” Anthony said softly.

“It is not that,” you said, and you sighed. “It is just… that the relationship I have with my mother is a complicated one.”

You felt Anthony’s eyes on you still, and you bit your lip.

“I have always felt so small whenever I look to the stars,” you murmured. “I think it is part of the reason I still do it— for the perspective. To remind myself of how minuscule I am in the broad scheme of things.”

“I… think I feel the opposite, funnily enough,” Anthony said. “I do not stargaze, obviously, but I have always viewed an individual’s contribution as meaning far more than I can even imagine. Each and every person who has walked through my life has made some sort of impact— you have been, and still are, one of those.” He looked over at you with a surprisingly earnest expression. “You are certainly not minuscule. Not by any sort of margin.”

You found your cheeks heating up from his words, and you could not hold back your smile. “Why, Lord Bridgerton, that was quite a compliment. Are you sure you are feeling well?”

“I feel wonderful,” he said, his eyes still not leaving yours. You felt your cheeks heat and you had to look away.

“I know my mother only wants what is best for me. She pushes me so because there is no other choice, and she truly believes that it will just… click for me someday.” You pulled Anthony’s jacket tighter around your arms, but it was of no aid when the chills came from within. “And I feel as if I am failing my entire family by not being able to accept it.”

“I understand what it is like to have the weight of your bloodline on your shoulders,” Anthony said after a moment’s hesitation. “It is my job to ensure that my family stays afloat, that our finances are handled, that my siblings are provided for, that everything runs smoothly without a hitch. It is…” he huffed a small laugh. “It is overwhelming, I cannot lie. But it is my responsibility as the head of house, and so I take it on.”

“You are saying that I should pursue a real courtship,” you said dryly.

“That is not what I am saying,” Anthony countered with a glance at you. “You were correct when you said that I could leave at any time if I so desired. I do not, but if I wanted to, I could. I am pushed on through even the most difficult moments because of my love for my family. Everything I do is for them.”

“I still am not following.”

“If you want to be happy, then you must find your motivations,” Anthony finally said, “and you must follow where they lead you. No matter where that is.”

“So you are supporting my ill-advised rebellion.” You sat up, looking down at him with the beginnings of a smile. “Is that it?”

“I thought that quite obvious the moment I agreed to this ruse,” he responded wryly. “You are a bad influence, Miss Worthing. I am a man of honor.”

“Of course.” Your words were laced with mock austerity, and you sighed. “I just do not understand why I was born the sole daughter of a struggling family. It seems a cruel joke when there is none I despise more than marriage.”

“We are quite similar, you know,” Anthony said offhandedly. “We both have the fate of our families on our shoulders, and we both know what we must do for our name. It should be woefully easy, but… it isn’t.”

You shook your head. “We are not similar, my lord. Perhaps in structure, but not in much else.”

He raised his eyebrows, silently urging you to go forward.

“You are a man,” you said simply, “and you have everything because of it. You can have whatever life you please. It is not required of you to marry, though your mother might like it to have an heir from the first son. But I have nothing— I am nothing— without a man. The life that I so desperately want is one that I will never be able to have, not without giving up everything I hold dear.”

You swallowed thickly in your throat, turning away from Anthony to not give him a view of your imminent tears. “I either have to marry a man I will never love or abandon my family and become a disgrace, but I do not want either. It is as Eloise has always said — I just want so desperately to fly. Unfortunately, my wings are doomed to be clipped.”

“Miss Worthing…” Anthony started, but he trailed off just as quickly. He could not seem to find the right words to quell your worries, and it infuriated him beyond any sort of reason. He did not have a way with words like Eloise, he did not have the effortless charm of Colin nor the presence of Benedict, and he most certainly was not able to comfort others like Daphne — and yet the need to fix problems he himself was incapable of fixing washed over him so suddenly and so intensely he could hardly bear it.

“I am truly sorry.” It took him far too long to break the silence that hung in the air, only punctured once by your sharp intake of breath in an attempt to hold back tears. “I wish there was more I could do for you. There should be more I could do for you as a viscount, but…”

Sure that you would be able to hold back any tears should they decide to pester you once more, you turned to face Anthony with what you hoped was a convincing smile. “You need not apologize, my lord. You have already done far more for me than any rational man should have in your position.”

“One could argue it is because of you I’ve done all this,” he said. “You have a way about you that makes a rational man want nothing more than irrationality.”

That brought a genuine smile to your face, thankfully able to avoid the tears you thought were sure to come.

“You flatter me, Lord Bridgerton,” you said wryly.

“Anthony,” he said, and you blinked.

“Pardon?”

“I believe we are far past Lord Bridgerton,” he explained with a slight smile. “What, with how many times you have bared your soul to me this season, I should think Anthony is perfectly acceptable.”

You felt your cheeks heat up under his warm gaze as you nodded. “Then Anthony it shall be.”

Trying to recover from the embarrassingly soft moment, you cleared your throat and turned away once more. “Of course, your permission is not needed to refer to you as your name rather than a title, but I suppose it cannot hurt.”

This time, the smile was nearly palpable in his words. “Of course, Miss Worthing.”

You shook your head as you said your name. “If I am to call you Anthony, you shall call me by my given name as well. It is only fair.”

He raised his eyebrows. “When has fairness ever been a concern of yours in regards to me?”

“Anthony,” you said, though not without slight mirth, “will you do it?”

“If it is what you desire.” Anthony then said your name, and you could not deny how your chest spurned in such a way at the sound.

There was so much you yearned to say, so much on the tip of your tongue, nearly all of it relating to the man in front of you. How could there be so much of him on your mind, when just a mere fortnight ago you were joking with him about how much you could not stand him?

After ensuring none of your inner emotions were visible on your face, you turned back to him and offered a small smile. “It certainly is.”

But as he smiled back at you, that slight quirk of his lips that softened his features and brought out the light in his eyes that you had grown to appreciate but he did not have nearly enough…

You feared you were beginning to desire much more.

You looked at the sky above, and the stars twinkling back at you suddenly made you remember as you turned back to Anthony.

“We should get back,” you said. “It would be woefully inappropriate for a man of honor to miss his carriage.”

His lips twitched at your words. “You end our outing so soon?”

“You were against it in the first place,” you pointed out. “And I believe this has lasted far longer than I initially planned.”

“I was also against your ruse,” Anthony said, and when he stood up, he offered his hand. “But you seem to be quite skilled at changing my mind.”

It was so different from all the others, when he offered his arm for a promenade or took you to the dance floor, and it was why you hesitated. But you pushed the thought aside as you took it, and Anthony pulled you up from the ground.

“I suppose I am,” you joked.

“Thank you for this.” He brushed off his clothes, a smile as genuine as the others pulling at his lips. “It was enjoyable.”

“Just enjoyable?” you asked playfully.

“My apologies,” Anthony said. “This was fantastic. Incredible. Is life-changing satisfactory?”

You nodded, biting back your smile. “I believe so. Nothing with me is anything less than life-changing.”

“That is certain,” he agreed.

Anthony offered his arm and the two of you began walking back to the front of your estate. The silence was comfortable as it lingered in the air, only broken once you stopped in front of the carriage that he was indeed late for.

“I do mean it,” Anthony said, “my thanks for this. Sincerely so.”

“Of course,” you said. “If you ever find you are in need of some stars, my yard is always open.”

His lips quirked into a slight smile. “The stars do not have much meaning without you beside me to give them one.”

You huffed a slight laugh as your gaze turned upwards again. “Well, that is Cassiopeia,” you said with a gesture at the sky, and you managed a wry smile. “Though you will probably just see more lines.”

“If you tell me they are more than lines, then they are more than lines,” Anthony said. “That much, I know.”

You felt the warmth rise to your cheeks, and you curtsied to him. “I will see you tomorrow, Lord Bridgerton.”

“I will see you tomorrow.” Anthony hesitated, gazing into your eyes with abandon. He lifted your hand and pressed a gentle kiss to it, murmuring your name before he let it go.

And then he entered the carriage, though there was some form of reluctance in his movements. You waited until his departure, even longer after until he and his men were nothing but a speck in the distance, and it wasn’t until then that you could breathe freely.

“My lady?”

Your focus was broken at the sound of your lady’s maid’s voice, and you blinked a multitude of times as you turned around.

“Julia,” you said. “What brings you here?”

“You, my lady,” she said with a slight laugh. “You’ve just been… standing out here. Alone. Doing nothing.”

“My apologies,” you said with a practiced smile, though you wrought your hands together. “I appear to be in my head tonight. You needn’t come out here for me.”

“I wanted to make sure you were alright,” Julia said. “Is the viscount gone?”

“He is. I saw him off.” The skin where his lips touched still burned, and you felt a swell of something inside of you. “I— I should be settling in for the night.”

You began walking in at a hasty pace, but Julia easily matched it. “Of course. I will help you get ready.”

You shook your head, and you couldn’t help but cast one last glance out the door before it closed. You cleared your throat and looked back at Julia. “All I request is that you help me into my dressing gown, and then you can retire. I would like some solitude tonight.”

She nodded. “Of course, my lady.”

“Is my mother still awake?” you asked as the two of you walked up the stairs together.

“No,” Julia said. “She retired shortly after you and the viscount took your leave.”

“Good,” you murmured. You did not think you could deal with her much tonight. Not after… whatever it was that went on between you and him.

Julia did as asked, helping you out of your layers and into your nightgown before she took her leave.

Lying in bed alone, you found yourself staring at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep.

All you could think of was Anthony. His eyes boring into yours, the heat of his lips against your bare hand, his willingness to do something he likely saw as ridiculous merely because it made you happy. The weight of his jacket against your shoulders, the attentiveness he had towards you for him to have realized.

The softness with which he said your name, every syllable a symphony in your ears, more beautiful than anything simply because Anthony spoke it.

Oh.

Your heart hammered in your chest as the realization struck.

Oh.

You were doomed.

Split down the middle. It was an apt designation for how you felt in the coming days and weeks.

One part of you—the idiot, lovesick part—wanted nothing but to spend more time with Anthony Bridgerton. A singing heart every time Julia told you he awaited you in the drawing room, weakened knees when he offered his hand to pull you onto the dance floor, an unavoidable smile throughout any of your conversations. You finally realized what all those ladies saw in the Viscount Bridgerton.

The other part—the intelligent part that knew this was the one thing that could absolutely not happen—wanted nothing more than to ignore his every call. To stay silent during promenades, to refuse his dance offers, to stay shut in your room when he called on you. To be able to avoid him in every possible way because you could not encourage your feelings further.

It was terrible. Awful. Horrendous. You were quite sure that you loved Anthony Bridgerton, and the one thing you were meant to do was not love Anthony Bridgerton.

The more time you spent around him, the more you thought about him, the more you felt for him, and there was not a single way to avoid it because his courtship was the only thing keeping you above water.

You really were doomed.

“Are you even listening to me?”

You blinked as Eloise said your name, and you looked over at her. “I apologize. I was in my head.”

“You’ve been in your head quite frequently as of late,” Eloise said, and she huffed a sigh as she flopped onto the couch next to you. “I can only assume my brother is to blame.”

You felt your cheeks heat. If only she knew how true that was.

“He is part of it,” you admitted, turning your head slightly so she could not see any visible embarrassment. “It may not be easy to be a Bridgerton, but it’s by no means easy to be courted by one, either.”

“I can imagine,” she said with another sigh. “For how serious Anthony always is, he certainly is dramatic.” Eloise eyed you. “Would you like me to speak plainly?”

Your brows creased slightly, though you still didn’t look at her. “Always.”

“I honestly think he may be enjoying this,” she said. “Anthony has never been much for… anything, really. Anything besides duty. He’s pleasant around us for the most part, and I love him with all my heart, but he’s always so serious.” She shrugged. “It appears that you’ve brought out another side of him.”

Your breath caught in your chest for a moment. You still could not bring yourself to meet her eyes. “Truly?”

“Truly,” Eloise nodded. “When you end this, I believe he’ll come out the other side a better man. So I suppose I should thank you for this whole ruse.”

A smile played on your lips for a moment, but it fell just as quickly. You’d always known it was going to end—the ruse was your idea in the first place—and yet you were the one fighting against her impossible feelings. You were a damn doomed fool.

You had to fight the urge to hit your head against the back of the couch. You felt as if you were going insane, but you could not reveal the whirlwind inside your mind to anyone.

“There is no need to thank me,” you finally said. “It’s been a pleasure.”

“A pleasure,” Eloise said dryly. “Really?”

You nodded, finally sitting up and looking at her. “Yes. Anthony was a bit of a nuisance at first, but…” you smiled just at the thought of him. “We’ve become friends after all this time. Quite close friends.”

Eloise’s nose wrinkled, and then she sighed yet again. “I suppose it is a good thing if you two are getting along. As long as you will still trade barbs with me about him.”

You chuckled. “Always.”

You couldn’t tell her. You wouldn’t tell her, because there was no use in creating such a problem for no reason.

You loved Anthony, you were sure of that by now, though you had not previously thought it at all possible. And none of it mattered, because by the end of the season, your courtship would be a distant memory.

You and Eloise continued your idle chatter, but your heart was not in it. How could it be, when you could only think of Anthony? You could only think of Anthony, the one man you never thought you would want and now the one man you can never have.

It was ridiculous. He turned you into a ridiculous woman and you would never forgive him for it.

You’d always wondered how you would end your ruse when your mothers had grown so attached to the courtship, the idea of you as a Bridgerton.

Your mothers were no longer the problem.

The middle of the season came and went, your feelings for Anthony growing ever stronger—your disdain for those feelings grew alongside them.

Your parents were working harder than ever as the peak of the season approached—your father spent most nights bent over documents and papers regarding the finances, pushing pennies so that you would be able to afford the frivolities of the ton and appearing on the arm of a Bridgerton.

Your mother had a job of equal difficulty—she had to maintain the Worthing image and name. It had never been the best to begin with as one of the poorer families of the ton, but Anthony’s courtship had pushed you through the ranks. Your mother was determined to keep you there.

The pairing between you and Anthony should have remained the same stagnant charade, but it was difficult to act the same as always with your feelings evolving ever so. It did not help that both your mother and Lady Bridgerton were convinced a proposal was to be just around the corner when nothing could be further from the truth.

And it was not as if they were wrong for holding that belief. Were this a traditional courting, Anthony would likely be preparing to get down on one knee—instead, your promenades consisted of discussions on how best to end your situation.

(“Perhaps you could have a meltdown,” Anthony had suggested once. “It would certainly not come as a surprise to the ton—they would merely see it as what has been coming all along.”

“Your faith in me is truly astounding, Anthony,” you said dryly. “It is sure to be a mystery on how we did not work out.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “I am only trying to work with you. Must I remind you that it was you that started this, all because you did not want to get married? This would simply be an extension—you’ve never wanted to marry a man before, what is one more to add to the list?”

“Yes, but…” you shook your head and sighed. “I fear we may have performed our act too well. At this point, it feels as if any means of our splitting will hurt our mothers and cause a riot in the ton, no matter how we do it.”

“I think you may be right,” Anthony said, and he frowned. “I do not know whether I want Hyacinth to find out you will not be her sister through Whistledown or through me—I know I could not handle the look on her face, but to let her discover it through gossip seems even worse.”

You could not help a sly smile at that. “Are you telling me I have charmed your family even more than I had before?”

He offered a smile of his own. “I believe I have charmed your family just as much, if not more. Your mother adores me more than ever.”)

No, it did not help that your mother adored him, and it did not help that Hyacinth and Gregory adored you. Every second spent around Anthony and his family pushed you further to your doom, and what a lovely doom it was.

Seeing Anthony dressed up at every ball was also not of aid, and you could not help but smile when your eyes met at the latest ball. You knew of your mother’s watchful eye over both of you, but you found you didn’t care when he offered his hand.

“You look beautiful,” Anthony murmured so only you could hear it as he led you out to the dance floor. You took up your positions and started the waltz—you had Anthony to thank for the increase in your skill, for the amount of dancing you did these days made it impossible for your ability to remain stagnant.

You chuckled a bit. “Thank you, Anthony, but nobody can hear us. You do not need to keep up appearances.”

The smile remained on his lips for just a moment too long before he blinked and nodded. “You are correct. I suppose it is just becoming a habit.”

Butterflies erupted in your chest, and in your flustered state, you fell out of the rhythm and missed your next step. If it hadn’t been for Anthony leading so well, you would’ve fallen.

How could he just say those things? How could he just say those frustratingly charming things without blinking an eye, words that made you trip over your feet and spurned warmth in your core and drove you insane?

Did Anthony even know what he did to you?

“Are you alright?” he questioned, and for a moment all you were able to do was stare into his eyes. They were beautiful.

“Yes,” you finally managed, clearing your throat as you glanced away for a moment.

It is just becoming a habit, he said, words that near perfectly echoed your own situation.

Each time you slipped your arm around Anthony’s, each time he was a caller in your drawing room for an early morning—early mornings which you were becoming all the fonder of with each outing—each time he smiled at you in that way of his, each time you looked into those warm brown eyes, each time he was just the slightest bit too close and you were able to feel your heart speed up and your breath hitch.

Being around Anthony Bridgerton was becoming a habit for you, you realized, a habit you did not want to let go of.

You did not realize Anthony was speaking to you until he said your name again and you snapped out of your thoughts, staring at him for a moment before you nodded.

“Apologies,” you covered up, “it seems I am very in my head tonight.”

“It is alright,” he said, smiling softly. “I was merely asking if your outing with your parents the other night went well.”

“Yes,” you breathed, “yes, it was quite pleasant.”

Though you answered, you could still hardly focus. And it was all because of the man you were dancing with, because of the delicate yet sure grip he had on your hands, because of the sweetest eyes you’d ever known gazing at you with reassurance.

You were horribly in love with Anthony Bridgerton, and there was nothing you could do about it.

“…So,” Anthony said as the two of you trailed through the streets, “remind me what you have roped me into?”

“I have not roped you into anything,” you said. “I am taking you to a rally; one for the advancement of women. I believe it would do you some good to see what your myriad of sisters put up with because of men like you.”

“Men like me?” he repeated, having the gall to sound slightly offended.

“Yes, men like you,” you agreed. “Men who do not even question why they are so deserving of their position so high above us, and do not even think to change things because society solely benefits them.”

“Do you ever get tired of your constant bitterness?” he asked dryly.

“No,” you responded cheerfully, “I only get tired of you.”

“Ah,” he said with a nod. “That is why you have not only decided to be my fake courtee for an entire season, but to willingly bring me along on one of your weekend escapades.”

“I put up with you so I will not have to put up with those even more irritating,” you reminded him.

“And that is why you always smile at me with the strength of a thousand suns while we dance?” he asked. “Why you continue to promenade with me and indulge my conversational whims and accept me without complaint as a constant caller?”

You shrugged, and you hoped the heat rushing to your cheeks was not visible. Perhaps he could read you better than you thought. “As I said, it is so I will not have to put up with those more irritating. I have come to appreciate you.”

“Times like these, I wonder if we are truly faking it,” Anthony said. “We already bicker as much as a married couple — perhaps we have somehow skipped the engagement and the wedding and gone right into the arguments.”

“I believe that is simply called friendship, Anthony.”

He raised his eyebrows, a smile tugging at his lips as he said your name. “You see me as a friend?”

“And now I regret saying it,” you laughed.

“Oh, do not lie,” Anthony said wryly. “Why have you brought me here, if not to argue on the way?”

“It is simply a learning experience for you,” you scoffed. “It is actually quite enriching, Anthony. You may want to take your leave now though, lest you end up learning something.”

“You are truly hilarious,” he said, devoid of emotion. He glanced down at the basket you carried in your hands before looking back to you. “And what is in there?”

“Any goods I can spare,” you said. “I am one of the poorer ladies in the ton, but I am still more fortunate than many of the women that attend these rallies. They are often working mothers and sisters trying their best to support their families, but it is hardly ever enough. I do what I can to make it even the slightest bit easier for them.”

Anthony went silent, and when you glanced at him he had an odd look on his face, his gaze set on you.

“What?” you asked, and he offered the smallest smile.

“That is quite a gesture,” he finally said. “Most families in society tend to ignore anyone beneath them. They would not be caught dead in a place like this.”

“They are not beneath me,” you corrected. “They are not beneath any of us. None of them have chosen the lives they lead; wealth begets wealth, and poverty the same. It is a vicious cycle that hardly anyone is able to break out of. I see no reason why I should not use my privilege to make anyone’s life even the slightest bit easier.”

“Besides,” you said with a raise of your brow, “you are here with me, are you not?”

Anthony nodded after a moment. “I suppose you are rubbing off on me.”

You smiled. “I am glad to have gotten through to you on at least one thing. Helping others with your wealth is perhaps the best thing for you to pick up from me, I think.”

“You are quite good at ruining the moment, are you aware?”

“Oh,” you said with a cheeky smile, “I absolutely am.”

You soon made it to the opening where the rally was being held. Though some were underground in the metaphorical sense, this one was rather out in the open. It was in a darker corner of the city, so you supposed the organizers did not think they would be disturbed.

You wandered around with Anthony for a bit as you emptied your basket to a variety of women and youths, and by the time the first speaker had begun, you had handed out everything you’d brought.

You took Anthony’s hand and pulled him behind you as you moved through the crowd to get closer, and when you tried to let go of his hand, he wouldn’t let you. You smiled up at him, and it seemed as if he’d only realized what he’d done in that moment.

“I do not trust this part of town,” he whispered to you. “It is for your protection.”

“Of course,” you whispered back, though you could not hide your mirth as you turned back to the speaker.

It was wonderful. She spoke of all sorts of things relating to women and the betterment of your sex, how they deserved a place in Parliament and a voice and respect for more than motherly duties, how—

“This is unseemingly,” Anthony huffed.

You frowned. “How?”

“This is hardly a proper place for anyone.” His eyes darted around.

“This is where I am to end up if I do not figure out a better way out of the ton,” you said. “This is how a majority of London lives.”

“I am aware of that,” he muttered. “Do not think me so naive that I do not understand my privilege. I just…” Anthony shook his head and sighed. “No matter. How many of these have you been to?”

“Five, I believe.” You frowned. “Six, actually. There was the time I told my parents I was ill and snuck out.”

“It is a miracle you are still alive,” Anthony marveled.

You shrugged. “I never said I was intelligent. Merely smart.”

He laughed, genuine and full, and you found yourself smiling.

And then there was yelling.

Your brows creased again as you looked to the front, only to see a man. His burly and unkempt appearance weren’t the only off-putting things about him. He spat rhetoric against everything the rally stood for, and the look in his eye was chilling.

You’d heard of this happening before, of men from the city who indulged their baser instincts and liked the world just the way it was now, invading rallies and meetings held by women just to create problems and spread fear.

Some cries ran out around the crowd, and your head whirled around to see other men like the one yelling pushing through the sea of people, intimidating and snapping their way through. You went to take a step back, but Anthony was already ahead of you as his grip on your hand tightened.

It appeared that this was one of those times.

“Ah,” you said, beginning to back up alongside Anthony. “I forgot to mention one thing to you.”

“And that is?” he asked, annoyance coloring his words.

“This gathering is not exactly legal.” You winced as a pairing shouldered past you, but you held fast onto Anthony’s hand. “I’d say it’s quite illegal, actually. Which is why it can be interrupted in this fashion.”

“Wonderful,” he breathed. “I’d say that it is time to take our leave. Would you agree?”

“Yes,” you said, “I would.”

The glint of a knife caught your eye even from afar, gripped in the hand of one of the men, and a lady’s scream pierced the air.

And then full-on chaos broke out.

Everything after that was mostly a blur. Something triggered inside of Anthony, clear in the wild look in his eye, and his only thought was seemingly to get you out unharmed. It worked for the most part, to his credit, though you didn’t get away completely unscathed.

You also did not get away together. Somewhere in the middle, someone had barreled between the two of you and broken your link. Anthony had lost you in the rush, and he felt as if he was going insane.

This may have been your idea, illegal as it was, but he was not going to allow anything to happen to you. He couldn’t allow anything to happen to you— he couldn’t.

He shouted your name, once, twice, three times, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried his best to navigate through the insanity. This was no longer a rally, this was a riot, and with you missing Anthony truly feared the worst. His stomach twisted into knots just thinking about it.

He’d just passed an alleyway when a hand darted out of nowhere and pulled him to the side; though his first instinct was to break away, the weight of his anxieties disappeared when he saw who had dragged him over.

Anthony said your name with complete relief, his shoulders dropping as the tension faded away. “I couldn’t find you, and I thought the worst— thank God you’re safe.”

“Thank God you are safe,” you murmured, and he chuckled as he shook his head. Somehow, in this situation, you were worried about him.

“I still cannot believe you are here,” Anthony huffed. He moved to the edge of the alleyway to watch, waiting for the chaos to clear out. “Is this truly what you are engaging in every weekend? Barbaric riots where its attendees are lucky to make it out alive?”

“I promise,” you said through a shaky exhale, pressing your aching fingers to your chest as you held your good hand against your bleeding nose, “they are never like this.”

His eyes darted back over to you, and that was when he noticed the injury. “God, what happened to you?”

You opened your mouth to diminish it, but Anthony moved over and began examining you for worse injuries. You let out a breathy laugh and shook your head. “I am fine, Anthony, trust me. Men in these parts believe in one vein of equality, at least, seeing as I was punched in the face.”

His eyes widened and it only made you smile more. “Do not worry. I punched him back.” You held up your hand, bunching it into a fist. “I believe my knuckles will bruise something fierce later, though.”

Anthony shook his head, another breathless laugh taking him. “You are truly something else.”

“And I am fine,” you assured, though the slight strain of your voice said something different. Anthony did not notice, though, and he moved back to his spot on the edge watching for clearings.

“You said you have been to six of these before,” Anthony said. “And they have never been like this?”

“Never.”

“Then I assume this riot was something special they planned just for me.”

“You jest, but you may not be far from the truth.” You chuckled but immediately winced. “You are bad luck, Anthony.”

“I am bad luck?“ He turned and fixed you with a pointed look. “You are the one who threw herself into the middle of a fight; it is fortunate you got away with so few injuries.”

You huffed a laugh but a sharp pain once again shot through your chest, far more extreme than the last, and you barely managed to stifle your gasp of pain. You took your hand away from your nose and pressed it against your side, but all it caused was an even greater ripple of pain throughout your entire body.

When you took your hand away, every part that had been against your dress was coated in a shimmering layer of blood, a small drop falling from your finger and splattering to the ground below. Your heart caught in your throat as you weakly pulled at the hem, crimson red seeping through the laceration in the fabric as a confirmation of the injury below.

So it seemed you had not been lucky enough to get away with only a bloody nose and bruised knuckles.

“...Anthony?” you managed weakly, your limbs growing heavy as your vision began to blur. “I… it…”

Anthony’s head whipped around. His eyes were the last thing you saw, wide with fear and lips moving in silent panic as he lunged towards you.

And then the world around you faded into darkness.

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#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton fic #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fic #anthony bridgerton fanfic #x reader #bridgerton imagine #sadie writes

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eratolasting · 1 year

Text

Tulips (Anthony Bridgerton x Reader)

Summary: At the first ball of the season, you seem to catch the eye of many -- including the eye of the viscount Anthony Bridgerton.

Warnings: Loss of virginity, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, creampies, oral (f receiving).

Word Count: 4.4k

MINORS DNI. 18+ ONLY

This wasn’t your first ball, nor would it be your last. It wasn’t even your first season of looking for a husband, yet something was renewed within you after your family's summer stay in the country. A new sort of light within you. You’d grown up a lot more over the holiday and your lady’s maid had learned a new source of hair styling and makeup artistry from the staff at your summer home. It was something that flattered your features a lot more than they had before.

Even so, your jaw was a bit sharper than it had been before, and your bosom ampler than the lords had remembered. Your legs a little longer — not that they could see that — and your hair a little shinier. You really had grown up a lot, and you were ready to finally find yourself a husband.

Though it wasn’t your first ball, it was the first ball of the season — aptly hosted by Lady Danbury. Like any other season, you assumed a scandal was to come sometime. You hoped to keep that far, far away from your family name.

You entered the already roaring party with your mama, your father, and your siblings. You collected your dance card and hung it from your glove-clad wrist. You stepped to the back of the room with your brother to grab a refreshment and the two of you stood, side by side, as you sipped from your glasses.

“Has anyone caught your eye?” You asked him. He was to find a wife this season, and you only hoped he found a good one.

“Not yet,” He responded, his brows quirking upwards as he tilted his glass for another sip.

“Well, you’ve got to get out there and dance, even if no one looks interesting. You will never know until you speak with them.” You pointed out, giving him a smile.

“You’re one to talk, sister. Are you not on your, what is it, fifth season? If you’re not to find a husband soon, you will be an old maid.” He teased.

“Third season; and I intend on finding one this year.” You promised, not at all put off by his badgering.

“Excuse me, but I can’t help but notice the lovely young lady you’ve got the attention of tonight. Do you mind if I steal her away for a dance?” Lord something-or-other asked your brother, who only grinned in response. “Of course you may take my sister for a spin on the floor.” He held out his hand for your glass, and you handed it to him before taking the Lord’s offered arm.

He brought you out onto the dance floor where the two of you delighted in a quadrille together. You smiled at him politely the whole time and answered any questions he had of you.

He filled out your card at the end and you gave him one last curtsey before finding your way back to your brother who handed your glass back.

“Well?” He asked.

“Well, what?” You responded, smiling knowingly.

“Is he the one?”

“Well, if he calls on me tomorrow I may, in fact, enjoy his company. Lovely fellow, knows how to hold a conversation and dance.” You raised your eyebrows at him.

“Do not put all of your eggs into one basket, sister. There will be many other gentleman callers on you tonight.” He nodded towards another Lord who was approaching you. Before he could say anything, though, loudly from across the room you heard a loud announcement of viscount Bridgerton’s intentions of finding a viscountess this season.

The thought made your heart race as you looked across the room at him, only catching his face through a sea of heads.

You’d never get a chance, you knew. Not with the viscount. Not even a dance. Sure, you’d grown into your features and looked more lovely than you had previously, but your standards had to be far lower than the viscount, Anthony Bridgerton.

You turned back to the gentleman in front of you and smiled, graciously taking his arm as he lead you onto the dancefloor once more.

This one had been less entertaining than the last, but he was a handsome man. Perhaps he was just nervous? You didn’t know, but you still politely bowed to him as he brought you back to your brother and made his way to other ladies.

“Alright, lad. It’s you’re turn.” You told your brother, taking both glasses from him. “Go dance with at least one girl. You’ve got to.” You tilted your head up at him.

He sighed heavily, but nodded, stalking away to ask some young girl to dance with him.

You sipped from your glass as you looked about the large room, trying to locate your parents and your other siblings — but they were no where to be seen. Strange, really, but there were many people and the room was rather large. Not to mention there were the gardens outside and the balcony upstairs… They could be anywhere.

You watched your brother partake in a few dances, a charming smile on his face as he entertained the women of the ton. You placed your empty glasses on the next servants platter that passed and folded your hands in front of you, waiting patiently for someone else to call on you.

“Excuse me, miss, but I don’t believe we’ve met?”

You turned your head only to see the very viscount in front of you.

“Lord Bridgerton, it is a pleasure.” You smiled graciously and curtseyed.

“The pleasure is mine, Miss…?” He smiled suavely back at you.

You told him your name, and he offered his arm to you. You delicately took it, and he lead you out onto the dancefloor.

You felt as though you couldn’t breathe for a moment. The viscount had approached you, and had asked you to dance. Though you knew it wasn’t his first time to do so tonight, you still felt giddy with delight that he had searched you out with the many ladies who wanted his attention.

The first few steps of the dance were met with a soft silence between the two of you, though it wasn’t uncomfortable. His hands were gentle as they met your body, and he didn’t speak until you were waltzing.

“I saw you from across the room. You look… ravishing. I couldn’t help but come make your acquaintance.” He told you, dapper smile on his lips.

You couldn’t help but flush at his words, your cheeks heating up a heap pinker than you could control. You smiled graciously back at him. "Thank you, my lord. You look very handsome tonight, as well."

“Tell me… do you like to read?” He asked as he twirled you, your face landing a bit closer to his than you expected.

“Well… yes, my lord. I do enjoy a good book. I believe young women should learn as much as men, if anything to set an example for their children.” You explained, a little flushed from expressing your opinion.

“You would get along well with my sister, Eloise.” He noted, smiling.

“I do hope that’s a good thing.” You mused. “I suppose that depends on who you’re chatting with. I do believe one should get along with one’s betrothed family. It is something very important to me, family.” He responded.

“Family is also very important to me, my lord. I am very close with my brothers and sisters, and I do want children.” You were trying to talk yourself up, now. At least, as much as you could.

“How many?” He prompted.

“As many as I have. I believe wishing for one too less or one too many may be a disappointment.” You explained.

“I can see where disappointment may lie in having one too less than you wanted.” He nodded his head briefly.

The dance was over, then, and the two of you bowed and curtseyed, respectfully.

“I thank you for your time, Miss,” He started, as he lifted your dance card. “I would take you for another spin, but you’re almost full for the night.” He smirked up at you.

“I would not mind it, if my lord so pleases.” You responded, earnestly.

“No, but I do believe other gentleman may mind.” He let your card drop from his hand, and his fingers gently brushed against your clothed wrist before his hand fell.

“Perhaps, my lord. But none other can dance and converse quite as well as you.” You folded your hands in front of you, trying to not think too hard about where he had touched you. It had merely been an accident, you knew.

“No? Well, perhaps I should save you from continued droll conversation, then?” He offered his hand up to you again.

Your lips curled up into a smile, and you took it. Now you were having a second dance with the viscount Bridgerton. How interesting.

All eyes were on you as he lead you around the floor in a cheerful dance, though his eyes were always boring deep into yours.

After another wonderful conversation to get to know each other a little more, the viscount led you off of the floor and took your card in hand once more.

“I had a remarkable time with you tonight, Miss.” He told you, his eyes flicking from your card up to your face.

“As did I, my lord. Thank you for your time.” You nodded your head to him slightly.

You gave your curtsey, and he gave his bow, and the two of you parted from there.

“Was that the viscount Bridgerton I saw spin you around the floor twice?” Your brother asked as you approached, an amused look on his face.

“Yes, in fact, it was.” You told him, “Though I fancy myself a walk, brother. Care to take a stroll about the tulip garden?” You prompted.

He gave you a smile, and lifted his arm for you to take. You folded your hand into it, and the two of you left the ballroom.

The night air was cool on your skin, and definitely soothed your flushed cheeks. You took in a breath as the two of you stepped through the high hedges, complete with tulips scattering the bottom of them.

“What do you think of Cressida Cowper?” Your brother asked you seriously as you walked.

You looked at him, trying to garner if he was truly genuine. Though his face said he was.

“You can’t be serious, brother? Cressida Cowper is… well,” You tilted your head, not wanting to say unladylike things should someone hear you other than him. “If you believe her to be worthy, I will support you.”

Then, he laughed.

“You jest me!” You laughed along with him, giving his arm a soft slap.

“I apologize, sister. But I couldn’t lose the opportunity. You should’ve seen your face!” The two of you stopped walking to turn to each other, and you shook your head at him, a smile on your face.

“I am simply happy you do not want to bring her into our family.” You admitted.

“And who would that be?” A third voice came from behind the two of you, and you turned.

There he was again, the viscount, with who you assumed to be his younger sister on his arm.

“No one, Lord Bridgerton. It was a simple jest.” Your brother explained.

“Ah, but was it a good one?” Anthony’s sister piped.

“I believe it was,” You responded, smiling.

“You have not formally met, have you?” Anthony proposed. “This is my sister, Miss Eloise Bridgerton.”

Anthony introduced you all, and you shared a quick curtsey, your brother bowing slightly.

“Would you care to join us, Bridgertons? We were just taking a stroll through the gardens.” Your brother asked. You looked at him, wondering where he was intending on going with this. However, your politeness outweighed any nervousness you had about more alone time with the viscount.

“Of course, I was just telling Eloise that—”

The walk was rather calming, in fact. Anthony and Eloise were both fairly good at conversation, and as were your brother and you.

You all stopped near the edge of the gardens, Eloise and your brother in a deep conversation about… well, you were unsure if you had to be honest. You and Anthony stood in front of a large row of tulips, looking out onto the grounds.

The silence between you was not uncomfortable, and yet you felt you had to say something. You bent slightly to smell the tulip, before humming softly.

“Did you know, Lord Bridgerton, that red tulips symbolize passion, love… lust.” You tilted your head slightly, allowing your fingers to brush them before you looked up at him.

“I did not, though, I am sure my mother knows that. She’s very skilled with knowing what flowers to put in arrangements to symbolize the correct emotion.” He smiled at you.

You smiled back and nodded. “It is important for a Lady to know what to send in times of love, comfort, and distress.” You tilted an amused eyebrow up at him. “Do you not agree, my lord?”

He cleared his throat before nodding, seeming a little flustered from the implications. Perhaps he was not used to a lady, such as yourself, hinting towards things like that.

However, your mama had explained what happens between a husband and wife on their wedding night quite in-depth as she had felt it important for you to know. So you understood things that others in your situation did not, though it deemed improper by the ton for you to have that much information before the day of your wedding.

With a rake such as Anthony Bridgerton, you had to assume he’d done those things with women who were not ladies already; and while you would not want to tarnish your families name, you knew that if Anthony attempted anything on you, you would not say no.

He was a gentleman. He would ask for your hand afterward.

He looked past you to your brother and his sister, seeming to attempt to make a choice.

“Miss, would you…” He looked down before his brow pinched. He seemed to be fighting with himself.

“I must escort my sister back inside.” He sighed and turned to go.

“My lord?” Your voice stopped him, and he turned back to look at you. “I do believe the tulips are rather pretty. I may stay a while longer.” You bit your lip.

His eyelashes fluttered at you, before he nodded, looking all too pained as he turned to leave.

“Come along, sister. I do believe the night is still young.” Your brother smiled at you. You smiled and took his arm as the two of you followed the Bridgerton’s back inside the ball.

You were about to do something rather scandalous, you thought. Going somewhere unaccompanied where you could be caught alone with a man. Though, if it was to garner the viscount’s affections, who could blame you?

Five minutes later saw your brother being swept back onto the dance floor, and you hid along the wall as you made your way back out to the gardens, your heart beating swiftly. Perhaps Lord Bridgerton would not come back out and see you, alone. Perhaps this was all a mistake.

Though as you turned the last corner into the most private part of the gardens, there he stood. His arms were behind his back, and his spine straight and tall.

“My lord,” You whispered, your voice barely a breath as you curtseyed to him.

He looked down at you, still looking a little pained as he took a few steps closer until your chests almost touched.

Silence was in the air, but the mere conversation passing between your eyes was enough to fill it. Your chest filled with deeper breaths, nerves beginning to well up in you as he leaned in, closer.

“This is wrong.” He whispered. “Though I cannot seem to help myself. You are… the most interesting prospect I’ve met tonight. My soul longs for you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you swallowed thickly.

“My lord…” You breathed, as his hand lifted to rest on the side of your neck, his fingers delicately pressing against your jaw.

“I know it is wrong, but I don’t think I can wait.” He told you, licking his lips.

You tilted your head, a soft and slight nod. “I would dare not say no to you, my lord.”

“Anthony.” He told you, “Please, do call me Anthony.”

“Anthony,” You tasted his name on your tongue, and his eyes closed tightly, that pained look on his face once more.

“Please, do forgive me. You are a respectable young woman, and I will be taking that from you.” His thumb brushed against your jawline.

“Please, my — Anthony. It will be our secret.” You promised. “You may court me as if this never happened.”

He chuckled, low and breathy. “It is our secret.” He repeated.

Though you were prepared, in part, by your mama to know what to expect, you never knew how delicious kissing would feel until his lips pressed to yours. He tasted of brandy, and lemonade as his tongue wedged your mouth open.

His hand rested on the small of your back, pulling you flush against him as your tongues met and brushed, delicate. He seemed afraid of scaring you off, but you did not know any different. You’d never been kissed before now.

It didnt take long for it to turn hungry, however, and he pressed his front tight against yours. You could feel something new pressing against you, too. Something you’d never thought of before. Your cheeks flushed deeply as he pulled from the kiss and took your hand, leading you further into the alcove to hide you both away from any prying eyes.

He helped you onto the grass where you laid on your back and he hovered above you. You were malleable in his hands as he moved you, fluffing the skirt of your dress up to find your leg, and he lifted it at the knee so he could settle between them. His lips were back on yours once more, his bulge pressing against the heat between your legs.

He rolled his hips gently, testingly, as a soft, surprised moan left your lips. He smirked into the kiss, seeming happy with your response. He broke the kiss again and helped you sit up, his hands reaching around you to unlace your bodice to get your dress off. He stood to pull it off of your body, you giving a soft giggle as you lifted yourself around for him to get it all the way off.

Your bosom heaved, threatening to spill out from what held it close. He would not fully undress you tonight, no. There was no way he would be able to help fully dress you again. His fingers were delicate as they pulled at your gloves, unstrapped your heels, and brushed down the skin of your legs to rid you of your tights.

Then, he was crouched between your legs, his lips pressing gentle kisses on your thigh and trailing closer and closer to the thin cloth that covered your sex. Heat rushed through your body, seeing him like that. Feeling him. It was so very… dirty, in ways you’d never thought of before.

His fingers hooked into the cloth and pulled it down your legs, tossing it aside to join the pile he’d made of the rest of your clothing.

This was all beginning to become very real for you, right at this second. You laid on your back, careful to not mess up your hair too much as your eyes stared up at the stars in the night sky.

A soft wind blew, and you could feel it on your sex. Cold, exposed. You’d never been so exposed before.

Your mind completely stopped racing, though, the moment his tongue dove between your folds. You gave a surprised yelp and looked down at him, as he was looking back up at you with those dark eyes.

Your eyes fluttered for a moment, brow furrowing as you reached down to softly touch his head. You didn’t want to mess up his hair, either. You both still had a ball to go back to.

Moans flowed from your lips as his tongue delved and licked you all up, his eyes never leaving your face as you gasped at the new sensations he was making you feel. His hands were gripping your thighs lovingly, thumbs petting them soothingly.

You were, exceedingly, overwhelmed.

Something new was growing within you, something you’d never felt before; a heat, welling up in your belly as his tongue flicked against you over and over and over, relentlessly.

“A-anthony—” You cried out, fingers curling against his head, “I—somethings—I can’t—” You didn’t know what was happening, but he was driving you closer and closer to some edge you never knew was possible.

He knew better than to stop, though, and moments later pleasure exploded within you. A loud moan bubbled from your lips as stars exploded behind your closed eyelids, your back thumping softly as it hit the ground once, twice.

You were panting heavily by the time he decided to give up his action, giving each thigh a little kiss before he slid up to meet your lips with his shining ones once more. The taste this time was… different, but not entirely unpleasant.

His hands were working, unbuttoning the side of his trousers as his lips devoured yours, sharing saliva and your juices between the two of your tongues.

You felt something warm and new against your belly in the next few seconds, and you broke the kiss to look down at it. Something sticky dripped from the tip of it and landed on your skin, leaving a translucent line between it and your stomach. It was… big. You were unsure how it was meant to fit inside of you.

“Do not be afraid. It will only hurt for a moment, I promise.” He told you, pecking your lips once more before he grabbed himself with one hand and lifted your thigh with the other.

You nodded, you knew that. Your mama had told you as much. Still, your nerves were a little high, your breath a little shuddery as you felt the tip of it press against your sex. His eyes were on yours the moment the head broke through the very beginning of your slickness, his lips parted slightly as he gently pressed in.

“Oh—” You gasped out, as the pain, sharp—quick, settled over you. Your fingers dug softly into his shoulders, and you swallowed thickly.

However, as quick as the pain was there, it was replaced by a new pleasure as he slid the rest of the way into you. You could feel all of him within you. He twitched slightly as your walls fluttered around him, slick with your previous orgasm.

He leaned in to kiss you again, muffling your moans as he slowly pulled out and pressed back into you, his fingers holding your thighs gently apart.

This was it. He was taking your womanhood from you. The viscount; and by this time tomorrow, you suspected, you would be engaged to be wed.

He moaned your name as he broke the kiss, his breath hot in your ear as his hips slapped softly against you. You released shuddery, deep moans as he continued to press into that spot deep inside you that made your toes curl.

This was… amazing. He was good at it, too. Good at making you feel wonderful.

Your eyes fluttered closed as his forehead rested against yours, your breaths mingling together and speeding up as his hips began to move a little faster.

“You are to be my viscountess…” He groaned into your ear. “So perfect... I shall make sure you are full of my seed. Make sure you will give me the children I properly deserve.”

You moaned right back at that. “Yes, my lord.” You responded.

“You like the thought of that, do you not? To bear my children with your beautiful body?” His voice was breathy as he spoke, his hips speeding up once more.

“Yes, my lord.” You repeated.

“But this… this is so scandalous, is it not? Me, taking you in Lady Danbury’s gardens before I even ask you to marry me. Very dirty, Miss.” He nibbled softly at your earlobe as you moaned louder. “What would the Lord and Ladies think of you, now?” He whispered.

You couldn’t find yourself an ounce of care. All that mattered was his length pummeling into your sex at a rapid rate, rapid enough to make that heat grow inside of you once more.

“Oh, Anthony — It’s happening again.” You whimpered, your nails piercing the skin of his back.

“Cum for me again, Madam. I would love nothing more than to feel your walls clench around me, begging me to fill you up with my seed.”

You shook as you came again, your back arching so far that your chest pressed against his and your moans surely loud enough to hear over the band playing inside.

He was finishing, too, moments later. Spilling inside of you while he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, promises to take care of you, to love you.

You both panted softly, gasping for breath in the silence of the outside. He slowly pulled himself out of you and helped reset your panties, your stockings, and your heels.

Only then, did he redo his pants, and pull his suspenders back into place. He helped you stand and get your dress back on, sinching the back to fit you.

Last touches were your gloves, which he did not put on until after he thoroughly kissed each finger, palm, and wrist.

“I shall call on you tomorrow, Miss.” He promised. “Do enjoy the rest of the ball for me.” He kissed you one last time; chaste, loving, and then he was gone.

You stayed out in the cool night air for a moment longer, catching your breath. Then, you went back inside — no one wiser to the seed dripping slowly out of you.

The next morning found many a gentleman caller, but you cared for none. You were waiting for the viscount.

Then finally, he arrived; a smile on his lips and a bouquet of tulips in hand.

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