Summary:Daphne insists on Colin to tell her where the duel is held. It just leaves Colin in a dilemma. What do to about you (around Hyacinth’s age)? He can’t leave you unattended.
“Where are they!” – vented Daphne out, bursting into the parlor. You gasped when she entered so furious. Her cheeks puffed up, her face turning a shade of red. – “Who? Daphne, you have to be more precise.” – answered Colin who was playing the piano. His fingers brushing the keys as a soft melody filled the room. Daphne came standing by the piano, her face sour as if she was about to burst. – “I think you know very well of who I speak!” – replied she, looking over her shoulder to you. She granted you a smile before removing all traces of it towards her brother.
Colin swallowed nervously, continuing to play the piano as if nothing was out of the ordinary. – “You mean Mama?” – asked you, thinking it was her Daphne was looking for. – “Anthony!” – shouted Daphne out. So loud it made Colin touch the wrong notes, ending the sweet melody with a hard clash. The sound was so sudden and loud, it made you cover your ears. The book suddenly shut before you reached the ending. Colin got up, taking Daphne by her elbow. He pulled her closer to the window, away from you. Daphne moved her arm up so his grip on her would lose. – “Don’t tell me you have not a clue, because I know you do.”
Colin inhaled deep, looking nervously away. – “Tell me where they are, brother. You need to tell me.” – whispered Daphne to him. She tried her sweet approach, hoping to gain favor this way. Colin pressed his lips together, slightly shaking his head. – “It is a matter of life and death!” – Daphne raised her voice a bit, yet still out of reach to you. – “Daphne…” – started Colin. Daphne moved her hand up, annoyed by his presence. – “You know where they are! Tell me!” – begged Daphne. Colin sighed looking past his shoulder over to you. You were staring with wide curious eyes at your siblings, trying to understand what was happening. – “Colin!” – called she out, losing her patience.
She grabbed him by the arm, pulling him along. – “Daphne wait!” – Colin twisted his arm so that Daphne released her grip on him. – “I can’t…” – said he, looking ashamed at the ground. – “You will take me to them!” – Daphne was determined to reach the duel before any true harm was done. She took his arm again as Colin moved it out of her way. – “I can’t!” – repeated he himself, leaning in closer to her. His eyes wandered off to you. Daphne lifted her shoulders a bit up, following his gaze.
“Then I shall go on my own!” – decided she, taking the back of her cloak as she spun around. Colin gritted his teeth, going after her. You straightened your back at bit, seeing them run out of the parlor, leaving you alone. – “I cannot leave her alone!” – bit Colin at her, agitated that Daphne would even suggest such a thing. She stopped at the door, turning towards him. – “Then stay here, but simply tell me where they are.” – insisted Daphne, not wanting to waste another minute. Colin inhaled sharply. – “I cannot leave you unescorted!” – called he out. – “And I cannot leave Y/n unattended!”
Such a conflict he found himself in. The duty of a brother slowly weighing on his shoulders. A weight he had not yet felt so heavy of a burden. It was his duty to escort Daphne. Yet it was also his duty to attend to you since they were the only one’s present at the house. – “Make your choice!” – Daphne pulled the hood from her cloak over her head, heading out of the door. Colin groaned in frustration, balding his hands. What must he do. If mother ever knew of this, he would hang.
“Y/n!” – called he out loud from the hallway. You got up, walking out of the parlor. – “Yes, brother.” – said you, still holding the door as Colin motioned for you to come over quickly. You ran up to him while he snapped his finger at the doorman. – “My sisters cloak!” – insisted he. The doorman bowed, parting from his position to go and fetch your cloak. – “Where are we going?” – asked you curiously. Colin knelt down on one knee before you, sighing deep. – “You cannot tell anyone of this.” – breathed he out. Your cloak arrived as Colin moved it around your shoulders.
He tied the cloak for you, moving the hood over your head. – “Is this like a little secret?” – questioned. Colin stopped what he was doing, smiling at you for a moment. – “Yes.” – whispered he out, stroking your cheek with his thumb. – “Now we must make haste!” – He got up to his feet, taking your hand. You tried to catch up with his firm footsteps as it felt like you were running and he simply walking. Outside sat Daphne already on her horse, huffing in surprise. Colin his horse was brought to him. – “Don’t even speak about it!” – said he to Daphne, helping you up in the saddle.
You moved a bit closer to the horses head. Colin hoisted himself up, coming to sit behind you. He took the reins in his hand. You panicked a bit when the horses head went up. – “Colin…” – said you in sheer panic. Colin signaled the horse to move, giving it a kick with a loud command. The horse got in motion, practically moving from standing still to running in a minor of seconds. You closed your eyes as this was the first time you rode a big horse. You were used to practicing on pony’s that went slow, not a tall horse that went fully rogue.
Daphne’s horse was running just behind you, trying to catch up. She caught up, riding beside the two of you. – “We better be there in time!” – shouted she out. – “In time for what?” – shrieked you out, panic written all over your face. – “You should’ve talked him out of it!” – It was clear Daphne was not released of all her anger yet. – “Talking him out of it?” – yelled Colin back. His horse thumping on the stones as they made way for the fields. – “You do know we are talking about Anthony!” – reminded he her. With little to hold, inhaled you sharply and tense. Colin had his hands on the reins, no where near you. Of course were his arms in a way around you, but not fully.
“You could’ve tried!” – answered Daphne brutally. You yelped soft when you felt like your entire body was bouncing around. – “The hairs Y/n!” – called Colin out to you. You froze for a moment, not knowing what to do. – “Take the hairs Y/n!” – shouted he louder, sending a rush of panic over you. You hastily grabbed a hold of the horses hairs for grip, not knowing if it would hurt the poor animal. – “Don’t shout at her!” – shouted Daphne, redirecting her anger to Colin’s manners. Colin sighed loud, granting his sister with a glare. Every time the horses hoofs touched the ground, got you more anxious.
You wanted off. This was getting to much of a thrill for you. They ran up to a woodsier part of the fields to reach their destination. Daphne bowed her head, avoiding some twigs from slapping into her face. – “Where is it!” – breathed Daphne out. – “Just up ahead!” – pointed Colin out. – “That will take us forever!” – screamed she out. Daphne thought for a moment, remembering something. – “I know a short-cut!” – exclaimed she, signaling her horse to go left. – “Wait!” – Colin clenched his jaw, going in pursuit. Daphne galloped to a large hedge, splitting land into two. Colin made his way over to it as well.
You saw the hedge, seeing Daphne jump over it with her horse. – “No…” – mumbled you out. – “No, no, no.” – your voice getting a bit louder each time. Going in full panic mode, didn’t want you to jump. You had never jumped with a horse. Certainly not a tall one as this one. – “No!” – called you out loud, protesting. Colin got startled, unable to see your facial expression. – “It will be alright Y/n.” – reassured he you. You shook your head, leaning back against his chest. – “I want off. I want off!” – shouted you, trying all to make him stop. – “Y/n, I…” – responded Colin, approaching the hedge.
You screamed loud, not wanting to go but you had no choice. Colin squeezed his arms closer to your body so that he could give you some sort of protection when the horse flew over the hedge. It landed on the other edge as you were full on crying. Colin signaled the horse to go faster, wanting to catch up with Daphne. – “Y/n I’m sorry.” – said he, hearing you cry. – “I truly am.” – In the distance saw he already Anthony and Simon, back-to-back. Benedict stood by a tree, keeping a close eye on Anthony. Daphne was guiding her horse towards them. Colin took a detour, coming closer by a different direction. He needed to get you out of sight before Anthony and Benedict would see you. Or he for sure was a dead man walking.
By a large tree, not far from them came Colin to a sudden stop. He jumped off, taking a hold of you, helping you off. Once your feet were on the ground, pushed you Colin off you. You wanted nothing to do with him for a while. Crying loud, walked you up to the tree. Colin going after you. – “Y/n I…” – started he, seeing your face was all wet from crying. You leaned against the tree, Colin coming to kneel before you quickly. – “Y/n I need you to do something for me.” – breathed he out, looking past the tree to where Daphne was. She was almost up to them if he didn’t make haste.
He moved his hand to your shoulder as you pushed it off. It pained him to see you so frightened like this. He never meant to scare his little sister like this. – “Stay here and out of sight! Please!” – begged Colin. He nodded, telling himself all will be well. Getting up, started he running. Anthony and Simon were ready to draw their pistols, pointing them at each other. Daphne interfered with her horse, startling the poor men. A gun shot was fired. You gasped, feeling as if you had skipped a few beats of your heart. Followed by loud neighing and shouts. A part of you wanted to look, but another part of you didn’t. Letting yourself slide down the bark, plugged you, your fingers in your ears to block the loud voices out.
Colin’s heart dropped, seeing Daphne lay in the grass. Anthony, Simon, and Benedict at her side quickly. – “Sister!” – called Anthony out at the same time Simon called out her name. Simon wanted to touch her, feel that she was alright when Anthony held him at a distance. – “Are you hurt sister?” – asked Anthony, fearing she might’ve been shot. Daphne got up, removing the hood from over her head. – “I am perfectly well, not thanks to you!” – spitted she out furious, getting up to her feet. – “What were you thinking? Running into a crossfire like that!” – shouted Anthony back. Colin slowly approached, nodding at Benedict as a reassurance that their sister was save.
“What were you thinking!” – fired Daphne right back at him. – “You men and your duels!” – scoffed she out. Daphne brushed some dirt off her cloak, turning around as she came face to face with Colin. She widened her eyes at the absence of you. Colin noticed the burning question on her lips, slowly shaking his head. He didn’t want her to ask about your well-being right here in the open. Daphne kept staring at him, tilting her head a bit to the side with a clear hint of her eyes. It made Colin widen his eyes as he had not thought of it.
How was he ever going to return home with you unnoticed. Everyone would head home together, so it was impossible for him to go unnoticed with you. Closing his eyes, cursed he at himself for not thinking this through. – “Well I suppose we all need a drink to forget about these events.” – pitched Benedict in. – “Agreed!” – bit Anthony, glaring at Simon. – “But you will marry my sister!” – insisted he. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. Not after witnessing the kiss between them in the gardens. Simon had to marry her, no matter how many times he insisted on not to. Everyone started to make their way over to their horses.
Daphne let Colin know to make haste decisions. – “Are you not coming brother?” – questioned Benedict, standing close to his horse. – “I…I…continue without me…” – said he, raising some questions to his brothers. – “I wish to see more of the view.” – Anthony laughed loud, ridiculing him. – “Don’t be absurd! Fetch your horse, Colin!” - Colin swallowed nervously, looking over his shoulder to where he left his horse and you. – “No…I…I really must insist.” – said he, hoping to persuade his brothers. Benedict quirked his eyebrow up, feeling as if something was off. – “Fetch your horse or I will!” – called Anthony out, pointing firmly at his horse in the distance. Colin exhaled deep, turning around.
Daphne slowly shook her head when he walked past. There was nothing for him to do but to go and fetch his horse. He could get on his horse, telling you he would come later for you? No that is out of the question thought Colin. He would never forgive himself for leaving you behind. Perhaps if he rode as last, no one would notice? Let you sit behind him so that his body would block out your posture. But how would that work at home when you descend? Perhaps there was nothing else to do but to face the consequence of his actions. In his mind acted Colin in the best way, pleasing both his sisters with what they needed.
You to be attended and Daphne to be escorted. If this was his walk towards death, he would take no other path. Colin arrived at the tree, disappearing behind it. Benedict frowned, giving his horse to Anthony as he followed. – “Y/n?” – whispered Colin. You wiped your cheeks dry, looking up to him. – “Can we go home?” – asked you, seeing him nod. He extended his hand to you as you took it. He left you by the tree, fetching his horse. As the tall creature approached you, gasped you loud, staggering back. Still frightened by it. – “It’s alright Y/n, I promise to take it slow this time.” – reassured he you.
“Y/n?!” – called Benedict out in surprise. His look of shock turned to anger when looking at Colin. – “You brought her here!” – yelled he out, lashing out to Colin. Colin stumbled back when his brother waved with his fist around. – “You wish to tell me you brought our sister to a duel!” – The others had heard the commotion, coming over as well. – “What is the meaning of this!” – Anthony widened his eyes as well at the sight of you. Gritting his teeth, felt he himself boil with anger. – “Explain!” – hissed Anthony at Colin. – “I…I…I had no choice! I had to escort Daphne but… I couldn’t leave Y/n on her own at the house.” – explained Colin.
“So you decided to bring her to a gun fight?” – yelled Benedict out, ready to wave his fist around again. – “I wouldn’t have brought her here if you didn’t start a duel in the first place!” – lashed Colin out, getting a bit tired that everyone was pointing fingers at them. Anthony was trembling with rage, ready to fight him. – “Stop!” – screamed you out loud, getting everyone attention. – “I want to go home!” – insisted you, stomping with your feet on the ground. Benedict noticed the glossy reflection in your eyes, hinting that you had been crying. He came kneeling before you, wiping your cheeks dry from the wet stains still visible. – “I want to go home…” – sobbed you out. Benedict nodded, wrapping his arms around you.
Anthony sighed deep, calming himself. – “Come along Y/n.” – said Colin holding his hand out to you. You gasped, leaning closer to Benedict at the sight of his horse. You didn’t wish to sit upon that animal any time soon. You shook your head, clamping onto Benedict for comfort. – “I am sorry.” – confessed Colin again, falling onto his knees. – “I never meant to scare you Y/n, I truly did not.” – you let go of Benedict, walking over to Colin. You hugged him, feeling him move his arms tightly around you. As if he was afraid, you would slip out of his grip if he loosened up for an inch. – “Forgive me sister…” – he moved some hair aside, kissing your cheek. You moved back, wiping your eye with your sleeve.
Anthony was glaring at Colin, demanding to have an explanation of your tears. – “I frightened her… with the horse.” – said he out loud. – “I brought upon her a fear of riding horses.” – Colin looked ashamed at the ground. Daphne came to his side, moving her hands to his shoulder. – “It will take time, but she might grow out of it.” – whispered Daphne to him. – “You are not to blame.” – Colin smiled faintly at her, giving her hand on his shoulder a soft squeeze. Anthony walked up to you, kissing the top of your head to sooth you.
“Will you ride with me?” – asked Benedict. – “I promise to go gently.” – reassured he you, offering you, his hand. You slowly nodded, walking up to him. He helped you on his horse, hoisting himself up behind you. You breathed out in shivers, sitting on top a grand animal again. Benedict moved one hand around your stomach, holding the reins in his other hand. – “We’ll go slowly.” – He gave the horse a gentle kick, setting it in motion. Your muscles pulled together from fright when the animal moved.
The horse walked slowly, almost parading. The others got on their horses as well. – “You do not need to wait for us.” – called he out to Anthony. Benedict looked down at you, smiling. You looked up to him, giving him a faint smile. – “We have all the time.” – whispered he out. Anthony nodded, signaling his horse to go faster. Daphne and Colin followed. Simon went his own way. Benedict and you rode on your own pace. He didn’t want your fear of horses to grow. You would make it back home, eventually. It just took a little longer.
Request: ‘Hey babe, hope you’re doing well! I have a request for anthony bridgerton x f!reader if that’s okay :)
I’d like to see what it’d be like for anthony to be with a feminist reader. Maybe even a scene where she confronts a man and he tells Anthony to control his wife or something like that.’
Thank you so much for requesting! I tried really hard, like I do with all my requests, but I feel this may be bad, haha.
Warnings: Sexism and terrible writing.
Words: 1.6K
Disclaimer:This is a fanfiction, the scenarios, the reader, and the dialogue are all mine.
A/N: Please do not copy or plagiarise this, or put it in your own book, etc. It should only be found here. Also, please mention if I should make a taglist and if you wanted to be added. I also tried by best at being British.
Thank you.
:)
~~~~~~~~~~~~Please do not copy ~~~~~~~~~~~~
(Y/n) (L/n) is an extraordinary woman and Anthony Bridgerton knew this when marrying her. She spoke her thoughts, never left him guessing on what to do like most women, she was well-educated, funny and had managed to win his heart, those are some of the reasons he chose to marry her. He knew that she was quite forward-thinking herself, but not this much.
The two are sat in their carriage, departing from his mother’s house, heading for their country estate, “I just can’t believe -,” she sighs, shaking her head.
“Can’t believe what?” He turns from the window and faces his wife of almost a year. A soft smile crosses his face at the beautiful sight in front of him. She is in a light lavender dress, her hair braided and pinned up in a way that she would not wear in public, but she preferred it that way; her glove-covered hands neatly rest in her lap, and upon seeing her frown, he places his on top of hers. “What is it, my love?”
She looks up to him, quite an unamused expression upon her face, “you will laugh.” Anthony shakes his head and denies, leaning forward in his seat so that he can pull her hands onto his lap. She bites her lip, gazing up to the roof, before sighing loudly and looking back down to her husband “yes, you will because you are a man.”
He raises a brow, “excuse me?” He does not know whether to laugh, but he cannot deny that he is slightly offended; men are not that bad. Well, he isn’t.
“It is the truth,” she remains serious until she sees him biting back his own smile, and she finds out she is doing the same, “you-u cannot laugh at what I am about to say.”
“Of course, of course,” he nods his head, looking down to their joined hands in their lap, “but if you ask me not to laugh, I will.” He runs his thumb gently over her hands, smiling softly.
“Well, you cannot,” his gaze shoots back up, and he stops himself from making a remark, taking in her serious reaction, making a frown come across his face, “my love, please tell me what is wrong.”
“I think that women should be allowed to go to University,” before he can say anything, she leans forward and moves her hands so that she is griping his (which Anthony did not thoroughly enjoy, as he prefers to be the one leading) and she smiles, her eyes twinkling, “I mean, look at Eloise, she is so smart; she should be allowed to show others that and she should be allowed expand her knowledge.”
Now, Anthony was raised with manners, and he was raised to respect other people’s opinions, but he can’t help but laugh, his voice booming.
She sighs and leans back, dropping his hands, a loud thud following as her back hits the seat. Of course, he would laugh he is a man after all, and what else is she to expect?
“I-I’m sorry,” he attempts to breathe out, reaching forward to take her hands again, “but that-at is preposterous.” She sighs, ripping her hands from his.
“You are a fool to think women are less than men,” she does not meet his eyes, deciding to glance out of the window Anthony was before, watching the houses go past and trees begin to emerge.
He frowns, straightening his posture, “I do not believe women are less than men, I believe,” smiling, he leans forward, lifting a hand to gently cup her cheek, making her blush, “that there are certain responsibilities that men have, and that is one.”
She turns, eyes bright with fury as she pushes his hand away, “responsibilities?” She scoffs, straightening her posture, “responsibilities? I have never heard such a joke.” She brushes down her skirt, glaring at him, “it is a pleasure, a gift, to be allowed to educate yourself in a chosen field of study, to even educate yourself!” Her voice is raised so that she is practically shouting, making his eyes widen.
“Darling -”
“No! I do not wish to rely on a man for the rest of my life, and I do not even own my own body,” she begins to make a range of hand gestures, and her husband’s eyes widened further at the sight.
“Have you gone hysterical?” He worries for his wife, considering calling the carriage to stop so that he could call for a doctor.
“How dare you!” It is in fact (Y/n) who got the carriage to stop as she hit the side angrily, making his draw drop. Hiking up her skirts, she pushes the door open and steps out; the carriage had come to a stop.
Anthony follows her, smiling at their employees in reassurance, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment, “my love.”
She continues, ignoring the fool of a man whom she married.
Anthony begins to quicken his pace, noticing her heading for the forest, and he takes a step-in front of her, stopping her, “I did not mean to offend you.”
“Well… you did,” she brushes past him, brushing herself down.
He does not go after her, gripping his hair and spinning in a circle before he gasps proudly, “Your body is your own! I never even knew I owned it.” She turns to him and gives him a glare that pierces his soul, making him pull a nervous smile, “you do not even know how lucky you are!” It takes all that she can to not scream.
“I am sorry (Y/n), please forgive me,” he sighs and gently walks over her, taking her hands in his and trying not to melt under her glare, “Mother always taught us that women are important and equal to us, we are all taught that women are gifts and I apologise for not realising that society does not treat you the same as it treats us, men.”
There is a moment of pause as she finally looks down to meet his eyes, but she does not answer.
“Tell me what you want, and I shall get it for you.”
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Lord Berbrooke appears unable to stop staring at the Viscountess, eyes wide as he reads the title of the book she is reading; it is of scientific nature. “What on Earth is your wife reading?”
Anthony looks away from his brother and up to the standing man. They are currently at the park, sitting down and talking as gentlemen too, a quick break from their families who they should be joining - his wife with his mothers, sisters, Gregory, and Colin.
“A book, I believe, Lord Berbrooke,” Anthony retorts and most men around them manage to choke back their laughter. He looks away from the man and over to his wife, his smile widening, making Benedict shake his head at his brother, a smile also forming.
“A book of science,” all eyes return to Anthony, who clenches his eyes shut, inhaling deeply.
Smiling, he turns behind him, withholding himself from making a comment on the man’s eyesight, “one day, you will marry and understand what exactly ‘happy wife, happy life’ means."
~~~~~~~~~~~~Please do not copy ~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lord Berbrooke laughs loudly, proud of his own joke. Those around him, however, those Gentlemen, do not, because not only was it rude, but they have great respect for the Viscountess. This evening they are awaiting the ball to start, for the host to arrive, and pathetic conversations like this are the only form of entertainment that they currently have.
"What was that Lord Berbrooke?"
Their eyes widen, and the Baron turns to face the young woman, "nothing, my lady.” The room has gone quiet, everyone turning to face them, including her husband.
“You mentioned women being lesser than men, I believe?” The room’s gaze shifts to the man, many offended but all curious.
“Lord Bridgerton,” his gaze flickers to the man behind her. Anthony nods, walking forward to place his hand on the small of her back, facing the man with an arched brow. (Y/n) finds her cheeks flushing a deep shade, ignoring the looks of disgust from the Baron.
“I am not her keeper, Nigel.”
“It was simply concerning the fact that women should not work they should stay at home -”
“Excuse me, but to cook and clean, I am guessing?” He nods. (Y/n) sighs, placing her clasped hands against her front, looking down to him as if he is a child, “Lord Berbrooke, would you like your daughters to also be illiterate.”
He scoffs, turning to those in the room, chuckling, “no child of mine will be that uneducated.” Many do laugh this time, shaking their head at the young woman. She is not phased, which is something that her husband admires about her, as she instead shakes her head at them as if they are disobedient children.
There are several things that Anthony could say to this man, but he withholds.
“So, you wish for us to learn skills but not to use them?"
Silence.
She arches her brow, the light of the room making her glow, as an Angel, the Bridgertons would say.
"Well, I wouldn’t say -” he cuts his snobbish self-off, “Lord Bridgerton, control your wife.” He turns up his nose, staring down at her.
(Y/n) glances to her husband, who steps forward to come next to her, sliding his hand through her arm, “Lord Berbrooke.”
“Yes,” all eyes are on them, and everyone holds their breath. Anthony smiles, gaze fixating on his wife for a second, pure adoration in his eyes, before focusing on the Baron’s, adoration quickly drifting away.
“With all due respect, I would rather face your wrath than my wife’s."
Look I’m not trying to be like: damn I know a character
But HAJDJDKJDKD I’ve never read any of the books and I wrote this only a year ago ??? Not knowing shit but after watching season 2, I’m very proud of it???
Summary: who’d have thought a dance with the Viscount could lead to such shocking revelations?
Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x female!reader
Warnings: none!! Pure fluff!!!
You smoothed down the soft jewel toned dress you wore as your mother grabbed onto your arm, all but dragging you into the ballroom.
An abundance of eyes rested on you but not one pair had your interest. In fact, you were rather appalled by the idea of being traded to one of these lords for just a sizeable dowry.
“Darling, I expect you’ll be polite. Your future husband could be gracing this room with his presence as we speak.” Your mother murmurs in your ear and you force a stiff smile to your lips, taking a deep breath through your nose as you simply nod in response.
As you gracefully trapse down the stairway in lady Danbury’s home, you try your best to pretend you’re nowhere near here, like you’re instead at home, in the drawing room with your family.
“Lady y/l/n, would you care to dance with me?” A young man you barely recognize asks politely, stepping directly in front of you as you reach the bottom step, leaving you with a small height advantage to the man in front of you.
You look to your mama with a pleading look, giving it your all but she simply gives him a wide grin and nods, shooing you off her arm. You on the other hand, would rather hide behind her and grab hold of the entrails of her skirt like a shy child.
You take his hand hesitantly, letting him fill out your dance card with a look of despair, glancing around the grand room for anyone you could possibly recognize. You noticed a few of the Bridgertons gallivanting about, including Eloise, one of your dearest friends. You decided then and there you would make your escape to her soon enough, after one dance with the Lord Norton, as you finally read his name to be. Surely she would come up with a plan to get you out of there in one piece and with no suitors in tow.
The young man grabbed stiff and awkward hold of your hand and waist, making you want to wince though you know your mother would later scold you for it if you did, so you remained of neutral face.
“I have heard you are quite the dancer lady y/l/n. Perhaps you could show me so tonight?” He suggests and you force yet another kind smile and a nod.
“Yes perhaps so.” You say meekly, trying to withhold the frown you wanted to let free.
The song went on for a painfully long time and when it ended, you couldn’t get away fast enough. You pretended to notice someone new and excused yourself, slipping through the crowd of people to the outskirts of the dancefloor where Eloise is standing, watching everything with a disgusted look.
“My thoughts exactly.” You say dryly, moving to stand next to her, happy to slink in the shadows for the remainder of the evening.
“It is dreadful isn’t it, being thrown into the ton like cattle to be bought or won? I mean really, how ladylike is that truly?” Eloise asks you, earning some looks from the surrounding Mamas.
The two of you stand in silence for a minute after that, holding in giggles until they’ve dispersed and forgotten about you.
“My brother is a part of it this year. As are you. I suppose the two of you should form some sort of amicable alliance, protect each other from the upcoming stampede of desperates?” She suggests.
“Careful, my mama may hear you and believe that to mean you’re offering me a Bridgerton husband on a silver platter.” You laugh, giggling along with Eloise. Your laughs quiet down as Anthony himself approaches, as though he sensed his presence in the conversation.
“Have you filled your card so soon Lady y/l/n? A shame, I was to ask you for a dance to rid me of the swarm that seems to follow my every step.” He says with a small grin, making you grow a real smile.
“Perhaps there is room for one more partner, though you’ll have to take my wrist to find out, I realize that comes as a difficulty to you lord Bridgerton.” You tease back, noticing the eyes of lord Norton calling to you. You ignore the patronizing look, instead choosing to further tease the viscount by raising your arm so your dance card dangles right in front of his face, raising a challenging eyebrow to him.
The two of you had been performing this rouse with each other for longer than you could remember. The friendships between your families went back years, long before you or Anthony were even a faint thought and so, you’d known each other quite literally your whole lives. Instead of a fast friendship though, you challenged each other at every event, taking turns teasing the other and leading them to a sort of trap. Typically, whichever of you blushed or flustered easier was the loser of the little game you played.
“Well lord Bridgerton? Will you accompany me to the dance floor, or shall I do something truly improper and heaven forbid request your sister’s company instead?” You grin wickedly, watching him roll his eyes as he gently takes your wrist and tickles your gloved hand with the end, writing his name in the second space.
As the current song falls to an end, you take the Lord Bridgertons hand in yours before he even has the option of taking yours first. He looks slightly shocked for a moment but then smiles mischievously before taking strong hold of your waist, pulling you that much closer to him and earning a small gasp in return.
“Were you not expecting that?” He asks, faking confusion as you shake your head with a laugh.
“You are nothing like these mamas think you are viscount. You’ll likely corrupt their poor young ladies with the most miniscule of grins.” You say cheekily, earning a chuckle from him.
He twirls you around and right back into his chest.
“Perhaps I like being an element of surprise in this traditional stiff game.” He suggests, his own eyebrow raised. You scoff a laugh, getting another eyebrow in return. “Do you find my statement humorous?” He says directly into the shell of your ear.
You turn yourself around, back to his hand in yours and the other resting on the small of your back as you sway.
“Not at all, I merely find it untrue. You are a perfect gentleman, a true nobleman and a good man to your family. You, just as the Duke of Hastings was, are every mamas dream. Good looks, good societal stature. I’m surprised my own mama has not yet thrown me at you herself.” You explain.
“You must have spoken too soon, your mother is hastily making her way to us as we dance.” He smirks back, releasing you from his grasp just as the song comes to an end.
“Y/n!” Your mother hisses, carefully and somehow gracefully storming up to you.
“Yes mama?” You ask sweetly, letting her guide you off to the side, a more private place to chat.
“What on earth are you doing? You are to be meeting potential husbands, not off with the viscount again. You make this same attempt every event. Unless you intend to court him, you must demonstrate your availability to the eligible young men who are truly interested.” She scolds, making you bow your head with a sigh.
“Mama I was being polite. Lord Bridgerton asked me to dance and I obliged out of duty. If I had turned him down, imagine how I would appear to all others!” You insist, coming up with excuses on the spot. She sighs and waves you away, walking off to gossip with Cressidas mama some more.
You groan quietly, carefully making your own way over to the refreshments, grabbing a glass of lemonade and taking a delicate sip.
“Tart is it not?” A voice asks behind you, taking you by surprise.
You turn to find Lady Danbury herself and you smile kindly, letting your shoulders rerelax themselves.
“Yes my lady. I believe it is one of the best batches yet.” You say with a grin, getting one right back from her.
“I noticed you having a beautiful dance with lord Bridgerton. Am I right to assume there may be a flame between the two of you? A viscount is quite the prize to win, I’m sure your family would be proud.” She suggests with a knowing grin.
“Oh! no, no. You should have us mistaken Lady Danbury! The viscount and I are merely old family friends. There is no courtship there.” You chuckled, astonished by the accusation.
“Really? I mean are you sure? Perhaps it is more to him than ‘tis to you but I did see a very particular glimmer in both your eyes as you danced. He shall remain at least a little jealous of the suitors you gain from that little dance.” She smiles, patting a hand over your own thoughtfully.
You, too stunned to speak, simply nod politely and excuse yourself, turning to make your leave and instead bumping right into Anthony Bridgerton himself.
“My apologies.” You mumble, your face flushed as you rush the other way, completely puzzling the man.
You practically all but ran outside, gathering your billowing skirt and making your way through the maze of a garden. Your head felt fuzzy and full, you didn’t know what to think.
“Lady y/l/n!” A familiar voice cries after you.
“Leave me to my thoughts Mr. Bridgerton!” You plead, running a hand over your face.
“Perhaps I may help? Come please… y/n we’ve known each other too long for you to dismiss me in such a manner. What troubles you? Is it the lord Norton, because if it was, I shall have a word with him.” He says, suddenly very protective of your integrity.
You snort again lightly. “Lord Bridgerton it is nothing of the sort! In fact, it is the affections of another that leave me so perplexed.” You sigh, shaking your head as you let out a breath.
“I see… and which gentleman may that be?” He asks, hiding the smidge of jealousy that dares to ring in his voice.
“It is not my place to say. Perhaps he could tell you himself, he is standing in this very garden after all.” You joke, a frown taking its place on your lips.
You laugh stiffly as he turns his head every which way, looking for the man in question.
“Lady y/l/n, there is no other man around… or is it too dark for me to possibly notice him?” Anthony asks, clearly completely clueless to what you’re explaining.
“You! I am referring to you Lord Bridgerton!” You decree, turning round swiftly to meet his wide eyes with your own troubled ones.
He remains silent, staring back at you, mouth agape. Anthony was used to such proclamations from random young women in town however you were no ordinary young woman. You were lady y/l/n. You were the lady he had so admired, so come to love. Since the moment the two of you reached an age where you developed feelings for the other gender, he was enamored by you. There was no other who smiled, laughed, joked or looked at him in such a way as you did and that held his affections more strongly than anything else could.
His inability to speak left you with a deep frown of your own, your lip quivering slightly as you bow your head in embarrassment.
“Very well, I see I was led astray. No need to fret, plenty of suitors anyway so no matter.” You say, your cheeks once again flushed.
He quickly recovers from his own daze at the sight of you turning away from him once again, carefully grabbing your wrist and pulling you back towards him.
“Anthony we should not even be out on our own, with no chaperone in sight… it is improper, you know this.” You say, trying to find any possible way to excuse yourself from the conversation you’d started.
“Just as improper as dropping the formalities before so much as the suggestion of courtship?” He challenges, making you go silent.
“Y/n I have never once denied an attraction to you. Do you truly believe me to be such a fool that I would not see your exquisite beauty?” He asks thoughtfully, catching your attention once again, your lips parted in complete surprise at his words. Your face is crimson without the need for the rouge on your cheeks, and you laugh out of sheer confusion.
“Honestly? Yes, I believed that perhaps your affections are captured by another young lady from the town. Possibly the young opera singer…” You suggest, laughing at your own joke.
“Sienna is… she is important to me yes but I’ve only been with her because I believed you to be promised to another, though I now see your hand is not yet taken.” He hums, smiling lightly at you.
“Lord Bridgerton… I do not have words that could respond to your advances… it seems highly inappropriate.” You say, going to turn away again, breaking the remaining hold his hand has over the cuff of your gloves.
“Y/n please drop the title. I see it as meant for those who do not truly know me however we are both very aware of the fact that you and I know each other perfectly well.” He says, gently lifting your chin to make eye contact with him once again.
“Very well, Anthony. This is highly unlike you. I’ve never seen you lose your proper language and tone before, not at public events anyway.” You state, fully aware of your close proximity to the viscount.
“On the contrary I do like to play the wildcard from time to time. And I regard you in too high a manner to pretend we are nothing less than the normal.” He says, moving in closer to you, taking your breath away.
He continues his approach, making you bite your lip with the widest of eyes, unable to speak.
A moment later you return to your senses, blinking out of your fairytale moment.
“We cannot go any further… not unless you’re prepared to propose.” You say, backing up to build distance.
He continued to stare you down, trying to convince you to return his affections with only a look.
“You should like to paint a picture.” You joke in attempts to lighten the mood.
“Y/n if that is all it takes, I shall marry you in a few months time.” He announces, pulling you into his arms and swinging you around with joy.
“What a very romantic proposal, I may just swoon.” You say sarcastically, laughing as he puts you down with his own perplexed look.
“Whatever do you mean y/n? You asked for a proposal and i obliged.” He says, making you let out a snort.
“You obliged?! As though proposing to take my hand is some sort of duty you are ‘obliged’ to do. When I said proposal I meant a truly proper one. You must ask my father for permission to propose, you must bring flowers and be in the drawing room when we announce it as official.” You explain. “I am shocked you did not think of it, you were so very insistent upon it when it came to your own sister last season.” You scoff.
“If you should truly mean what you are asking, you shall be at y/l/n house tomorrow morning to treat me as the lady I am rather than a common whore you wish to trick. Understood?” You ask before he gets the chance to object your ultimatum.
He gulps and then nods rapidly, afraid to speak in case of offending you or further entangling the web of your relationship, watching you smile back at him and walk away, back to the party and away from him.
——————————————————
The next morning…
The very next morning, all of the eligible ladies of the ton are eagerly waiting for their dukes and viscounts and gentlemen to come calling. The center of London is bustling with activity of carriages, footmen and of course their gentlemen calling on the women they seek.
You are among those not so patiently waiting. Since you’d woken, you were in the drawing room, pretending to be distracted by books and needlepoint but in reality, being completely anxious for the day to come.
After you’d left Anthony and returned indoors, the night was somewhat of a blur. Your thoughts remained on Anthony but your physical presence was there, on the floor, where another gentleman, though much older than the others who seemed to fancy you, had asked for your third dance. You agreed, not wanting to be impolite or for your mother to have reason to invoke her rath.
So, you danced with the lord Gillington, and it was all fine but you held no interest in him, nor in Lord Newton, who apparently was to stop by today as well.
When the third dance ended you faked a headache and feigned fatigue to your mother, who reluctantly agreed. There were other eyes on you and she would have preferred you have at least one more dance but you had done as she asked and that was all she could hope for.
You arrived home early but that wasn’t to say you slept well. You were restless, worrying over the possibilities for the next day. Surely Anthony would never lead you on in a way such as this for your silly little game but there was no certainty there. Still you took comfort in knowing that he was typically a man of his word.
But now, as you sat twiddling with your thumbs, you weren’t so certain. He was as he liked to put it now ‘a wildcard’ when it came to romance and you had never actually attempted such a thing in your relationship.
You ignored your nerves and smoothed down your silky day dress and took yet another deep breath, getting ready to settle back in when one of your staff enter the room. Quickly you rise to your feet.
“A gentleman is here for ms. Y/l/n.” He announces and you smile wide at your mother.
“Send him in then!” She urges, just as excitedly.
He obliges and a minute later a man enters but your face falls as you see its not who you’d hoped.
“Lord Newton.” You greet, pasting as much of a smile as you can muster on your face, taking the delicate bouquet he holds into your own hands and giving them a polite smell.
“Lady y/l/n. You look beautiful, as always.” He greets back, lightly kissing your hand. Your mother looks ecstatic but you couldn’t be less so.
You knew it best to keep your options open but it wasn’t your nature. You were interested in one man and one man alone and it was all his own fault.
“Thank you lord Newton, that’s very kind of you. Would you like to sit?” You ask, sitting back down on the chaise, patting it lightly for him.
He graciously accepts, sitting next to you.
“I have come to ask if you should like to court, lady y/l/n? I do not wish to be too forward however I am quite taken with you my lady.” He states, smiling back at you and you don’t even have to look at your mother to know she’s likely bouncing with joy.
“I-” You start but he is quick to interrupt, something you don’t take kindly to.
“You need not make haste with your decision, I’m aware you will have more suitors throughout the day. I only wish to make my intentions known.” He says, once again kissing your hand. “I shall take my leave. Lady y/l/n. Lady y/l/n.” He says, bowing before walking out the door.
“Oh dearest! That is practically your first proposal! Of many I am certain.” Your mother cheers, hugging you tightly, laughing with joy.
You nod meekly, trying to stay somewhat happy for your mothers sake.
Throughout the day, callers come and go, bearing gifts and kind words nonstop. The room is a festival of colours and chatter and the sweet fragrance of florals everywhere. And yet, no Bridgerton caller had arrived thus far.
“Perhaps Lady Whistledown shall write bright things about our home this week! You are getting plenty of attention from the best of the gentlemen.” Your mama says as the latest of the male callers take their leave.
“Yes perhaps this is true mama.” You say with another smile.
As you take a seat, another caller arrives and you stand yet again with a weak smile, tired of the anticipation of the days end drawing near.
“Lord Ambrose for you my lady.” The staff announces and you smile as you dismiss him.
“Lord Ambrose how delightful to see you.” You greet, taking a seat with him. In that moment, your youngest sister runs into the room, chased by your younger brother.
“Children!” Your mother warns, trying to toss them out of the room.
“It is no bother mama, they may stay. That is if it does not displease you Lord Ambrose?” You ask, turning to him for answer.
“Certainly not, I do love children, it is not a bother at all.” He replies, smiling more at you.
The two of you make chitchat for a while, watching the younger y/l/n children play together happily, passing time surprisingly pleasantly.
“I shall leave, I have had a wonderful afternoon with you my lady. I do hope you’ll consider perhaps courting me this season?” He asks and you feel your smile slipping at yet another sort of proposal.
“Perhaps yes, I shall need some time to consider.” You reply, watching as he accepts the excuse, kisses your hand and leaves.
Your smile falls, watching out the window as the sun falling slowly.
Your eyes dart to the ground when another carriage arrives and you’re quick to sit back down, your mama and your papa, who had just come in from his study, both giving you looks of confusion.
“Another caller I think. We shall see who it is in a moments time.” You grin, hope still heavy in your heart.
Your sister runs over to you and takes a seat next to you, playing with your skirt but you ignore it, watching the doorway intently.
“The viscount Bridgerton is here for you my lady.” He says and your grin grows all the bigger.
“Send him in!” You say with as much eager energy in your voice as your mother had early on.
And so, in walks Anthony, with a large and stunning bouquet of his own and a smile you couldn’t compare to any of the other gifts you’d received today because if you even tried, the rest would never hold a chance.
“My Lord.” You smile, bowing low to him. “I do believe I said this morning.” You tease as you rise, speaking low so your parents cannot hear.
He smiles wider at your cheeky tone. “Yes, I do apologize for the late hour, I had difficulty getting anything appropriate from the florist, so many desperate suitors looking for their own and of course I needed one that could compare to your on beauty though I realize that to be nearly impossible.” He explains and you purse your lips as though thinking whether to believe him or not.
“Lord Bridgerton.” Your mother greets him, bringing your attention to the fact that you are not alone.
“Lady y/l/n, a pleasure. And lord y/l/n, it is an honor to see you again.” Anthony greets both your parents, making your glee spread that much more.
“You as well lord Bridgerton.” Your father says, standing to shake his hand.
“I actually have some matters I’d like to discuss with you my lord. Shall we excuse ourselves?” Anthony asks and your father nods. The men take their leave to the study, your little brother chasing after them, eager to listen in. Your mother tries to stop him but he ignores her and she’s clearly too tired to try anymore.
“Might I ask dearest, what it is that prompted the Viscounts call?” She asks you, raising an eyebrow.
“I believe it was Lady Danbury’s revelations after we shared a dance last night. It would seem his mother and her ladyship have noticed something that myself and Lord Bridgerton have not. Until now that is.” You smile, keeping the true reason a secret for Anthony and yourself to hold tight.
“I see…” She hums unsurely, still going back to her needlepointing rather than investigate any longer.
You remain playing with your younger sister, waiting eagerly for the men to finish their business, wishing nothing more than to be a part of the discussion.
In your own frustration and excitement, you barely notice Anthony’s returned to the room. Instead of telling you, he is mesmerized by watching you and your sister, smiling fully at the sight of you with a child. He had seen you interact with them before of course, but with the chance to finally have you for himself, Anthony couldn’t help picturing you as a mother and he couldn’t be more pleased with the idea.
Settling down was never something that had been on his mind, especially with romance actually taking part in it. He had always pictured a loveless marriage with many kids and his duties to keep both him and his wife occupied. But never in those images did he picture you as his wife. He pictured you with a prince or someone more worthy of your love, never himself. But the idea wasn’t unpleasant to him, instead it was a great joy to picture.
“Lady y/l/n, might I have a moment?” He asks and you gasp, jumping to your feet out of surprise.
“Yes of course lord Bridgerton.” You smile, your face once again flushed, causing him to stifle a chuckle.
The two of you enter the corridor, where he takes your hand in his. Your breath hitches and your heart is pounding in your chest.
“I have done as you asked. I have made myself look a bit of a fool in your honor, I have done the thing I never once imagined myself doing, and I have fallen in love with you. Love in a marriage has always been a great virtue but I never pictured it for myself until last night. I can see us starting a family, I can see us happy together. Lady y/l/n, y/n, would you allow me to ask for your hand? Your papa has agreed so long as it is in your wishes. I’m sure your mama would agree as well. There would be no greater honor for me.” He finally asks, making you giggle with excitement, real excitement this time.
“Anthony, you are the only man who causes me true and real joy. I know you to be a good and kind man. Yes I will marry you.” You smile, giggling as he hugs you tightly, trying hard to stick to your honor.
“That is good because I did see Lord Ambrose leaving earlier and I must tell you, he is something of a cheat. Cannot be trusted.” He says jealously and you scoff, giggling again.
“I believe I am the one who has you flustered this time, by the way.” He murmurs as you walk back into the drawing room to announce the news to your family.
“I believe that both of us have that challenge covered this time my lord.” You challenge quietly just before you declare your engagement to your family, leaving him both in want of you and puzzled by you all at once, just as both of you know you’ll likely do your whole marriage.
YOU GUYSSSSSSS I can’t believe how popular this fic has gotten, I love you all so much thank you for reading ❤️❤️
Summary: who’d have thought a dance with the Viscount could lead to such shocking revelations?
Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x female!reader
Warnings: none!! Pure fluff!!!
You smoothed down the soft jewel toned dress you wore as your mother grabbed onto your arm, all but dragging you into the ballroom.
An abundance of eyes rested on you but not one pair had your interest. In fact, you were rather appalled by the idea of being traded to one of these lords for just a sizeable dowry.
“Darling, I expect you’ll be polite. Your future husband could be gracing this room with his presence as we speak.” Your mother murmurs in your ear and you force a stiff smile to your lips, taking a deep breath through your nose as you simply nod in response.
As you gracefully trapse down the stairway in lady Danbury’s home, you try your best to pretend you’re nowhere near here, like you’re instead at home, in the drawing room with your family.
“Lady y/l/n, would you care to dance with me?” A young man you barely recognize asks politely, stepping directly in front of you as you reach the bottom step, leaving you with a small height advantage to the man in front of you.
You look to your mama with a pleading look, giving it your all but she simply gives him a wide grin and nods, shooing you off her arm. You on the other hand, would rather hide behind her and grab hold of the entrails of her skirt like a shy child.
You take his hand hesitantly, letting him fill out your dance card with a look of despair, glancing around the grand room for anyone you could possibly recognize. You noticed a few of the Bridgertons gallivanting about, including Eloise, one of your dearest friends. You decided then and there you would make your escape to her soon enough, after one dance with the Lord Norton, as you finally read his name to be. Surely she would come up with a plan to get you out of there in one piece and with no suitors in tow.
The young man grabbed stiff and awkward hold of your hand and waist, making you want to wince though you know your mother would later scold you for it if you did, so you remained of neutral face.
“I have heard you are quite the dancer lady y/l/n. Perhaps you could show me so tonight?” He suggests and you force yet another kind smile and a nod.
“Yes perhaps so.” You say meekly, trying to withhold the frown you wanted to let free.
The song went on for a painfully long time and when it ended, you couldn’t get away fast enough. You pretended to notice someone new and excused yourself, slipping through the crowd of people to the outskirts of the dancefloor where Eloise is standing, watching everything with a disgusted look.
“My thoughts exactly.” You say dryly, moving to stand next to her, happy to slink in the shadows for the remainder of the evening.
“It is dreadful isn’t it, being thrown into the ton like cattle to be bought or won? I mean really, how ladylike is that truly?” Eloise asks you, earning some looks from the surrounding Mamas.
The two of you stand in silence for a minute after that, holding in giggles until they’ve dispersed and forgotten about you.
“My brother is a part of it this year. As are you. I suppose the two of you should form some sort of amicable alliance, protect each other from the upcoming stampede of desperates?” She suggests.
“Careful, my mama may hear you and believe that to mean you’re offering me a Bridgerton husband on a silver platter.” You laugh, giggling along with Eloise. Your laughs quiet down as Anthony himself approaches, as though he sensed his presence in the conversation.
“Have you filled your card so soon Lady y/l/n? A shame, I was to ask you for a dance to rid me of the swarm that seems to follow my every step.” He says with a small grin, making you grow a real smile.
“Perhaps there is room for one more partner, though you’ll have to take my wrist to find out, I realize that comes as a difficulty to you lord Bridgerton.” You tease back, noticing the eyes of lord Norton calling to you. You ignore the patronizing look, instead choosing to further tease the viscount by raising your arm so your dance card dangles right in front of his face, raising a challenging eyebrow to him.
The two of you had been performing this rouse with each other for longer than you could remember. The friendships between your families went back years, long before you or Anthony were even a faint thought and so, you’d known each other quite literally your whole lives. Instead of a fast friendship though, you challenged each other at every event, taking turns teasing the other and leading them to a sort of trap. Typically, whichever of you blushed or flustered easier was the loser of the little game you played.
“Well lord Bridgerton? Will you accompany me to the dance floor, or shall I do something truly improper and heaven forbid request your sister’s company instead?” You grin wickedly, watching him roll his eyes as he gently takes your wrist and tickles your gloved hand with the end, writing his name in the second space.
As the current song falls to an end, you take the Lord Bridgertons hand in yours before he even has the option of taking yours first. He looks slightly shocked for a moment but then smiles mischievously before taking strong hold of your waist, pulling you that much closer to him and earning a small gasp in return.
“Were you not expecting that?” He asks, faking confusion as you shake your head with a laugh.
“You are nothing like these mamas think you are viscount. You’ll likely corrupt their poor young ladies with the most miniscule of grins.” You say cheekily, earning a chuckle from him.
He twirls you around and right back into his chest.
“Perhaps I like being an element of surprise in this traditional stiff game.” He suggests, his own eyebrow raised. You scoff a laugh, getting another eyebrow in return. “Do you find my statement humorous?” He says directly into the shell of your ear.
You turn yourself around, back to his hand in yours and the other resting on the small of your back as you sway.
“Not at all, I merely find it untrue. You are a perfect gentleman, a true nobleman and a good man to your family. You, just as the Duke of Hastings was, are every mamas dream. Good looks, good societal stature. I’m surprised my own mama has not yet thrown me at you herself.” You explain.
“You must have spoken too soon, your mother is hastily making her way to us as we dance.” He smirks back, releasing you from his grasp just as the song comes to an end.
“Y/n!” Your mother hisses, carefully and somehow gracefully storming up to you.
“Yes mama?” You ask sweetly, letting her guide you off to the side, a more private place to chat.
“What on earth are you doing? You are to be meeting potential husbands, not off with the viscount again. You make this same attempt every event. Unless you intend to court him, you must demonstrate your availability to the eligible young men who are truly interested.” She scolds, making you bow your head with a sigh.
“Mama I was being polite. Lord Bridgerton asked me to dance and I obliged out of duty. If I had turned him down, imagine how I would appear to all others!” You insist, coming up with excuses on the spot. She sighs and waves you away, walking off to gossip with Cressidas mama some more.
You groan quietly, carefully making your own way over to the refreshments, grabbing a glass of lemonade and taking a delicate sip.
“Tart is it not?” A voice asks behind you, taking you by surprise.
You turn to find Lady Danbury herself and you smile kindly, letting your shoulders rerelax themselves.
“Yes my lady. I believe it is one of the best batches yet.” You say with a grin, getting one right back from her.
“I noticed you having a beautiful dance with lord Bridgerton. Am I right to assume there may be a flame between the two of you? A viscount is quite the prize to win, I’m sure your family would be proud.” She suggests with a knowing grin.
“Oh! no, no. You should have us mistaken Lady Danbury! The viscount and I are merely old family friends. There is no courtship there.” You chuckled, astonished by the accusation.
“Really? I mean are you sure? Perhaps it is more to him than ‘tis to you but I did see a very particular glimmer in both your eyes as you danced. He shall remain at least a little jealous of the suitors you gain from that little dance.” She smiles, patting a hand over your own thoughtfully.
You, too stunned to speak, simply nod politely and excuse yourself, turning to make your leave and instead bumping right into Anthony Bridgerton himself.
“My apologies.” You mumble, your face flushed as you rush the other way, completely puzzling the man.
You practically all but ran outside, gathering your billowing skirt and making your way through the maze of a garden. Your head felt fuzzy and full, you didn’t know what to think.
“Lady y/l/n!” A familiar voice cries after you.
“Leave me to my thoughts Mr. Bridgerton!” You plead, running a hand over your face.
“Perhaps I may help? Come please… y/n we’ve known each other too long for you to dismiss me in such a manner. What troubles you? Is it the lord Norton, because if it was, I shall have a word with him.” He says, suddenly very protective of your integrity.
You snort again lightly. “Lord Bridgerton it is nothing of the sort! In fact, it is the affections of another that leave me so perplexed.” You sigh, shaking your head as you let out a breath.
“I see… and which gentleman may that be?” He asks, hiding the smidge of jealousy that dares to ring in his voice.
“It is not my place to say. Perhaps he could tell you himself, he is standing in this very garden after all.” You joke, a frown taking its place on your lips.
You laugh stiffly as he turns his head every which way, looking for the man in question.
“Lady y/l/n, there is no other man around… or is it too dark for me to possibly notice him?” Anthony asks, clearly completely clueless to what you’re explaining.
“You! I am referring to you Lord Bridgerton!” You decree, turning round swiftly to meet his wide eyes with your own troubled ones.
He remains silent, staring back at you, mouth agape. Anthony was used to such proclamations from random young women in town however you were no ordinary young woman. You were lady y/l/n. You were the lady he had so admired, so come to love. Since the moment the two of you reached an age where you developed feelings for the other gender, he was enamored by you. There was no other who smiled, laughed, joked or looked at him in such a way as you did and that held his affections more strongly than anything else could.
His inability to speak left you with a deep frown of your own, your lip quivering slightly as you bow your head in embarrassment.
“Very well, I see I was led astray. No need to fret, plenty of suitors anyway so no matter.” You say, your cheeks once again flushed.
He quickly recovers from his own daze at the sight of you turning away from him once again, carefully grabbing your wrist and pulling you back towards him.
“Anthony we should not even be out on our own, with no chaperone in sight… it is improper, you know this.” You say, trying to find any possible way to excuse yourself from the conversation you’d started.
“Just as improper as dropping the formalities before so much as the suggestion of courtship?” He challenges, making you go silent.
“Y/n I have never once denied an attraction to you. Do you truly believe me to be such a fool that I would not see your exquisite beauty?” He asks thoughtfully, catching your attention once again, your lips parted in complete surprise at his words. Your face is crimson without the need for the rouge on your cheeks, and you laugh out of sheer confusion.
“Honestly? Yes, I believed that perhaps your affections are captured by another young lady from the town. Possibly the young opera singer…” You suggest, laughing at your own joke.
“Sienna is… she is important to me yes but I’ve only been with her because I believed you to be promised to another, though I now see your hand is not yet taken.” He hums, smiling lightly at you.
“Lord Bridgerton… I do not have words that could respond to your advances… it seems highly inappropriate.” You say, going to turn away again, breaking the remaining hold his hand has over the cuff of your gloves.
“Y/n please drop the title. I see it as meant for those who do not truly know me however we are both very aware of the fact that you and I know each other perfectly well.” He says, gently lifting your chin to make eye contact with him once again.
“Very well, Anthony. This is highly unlike you. I’ve never seen you lose your proper language and tone before, not at public events anyway.” You state, fully aware of your close proximity to the viscount.
“On the contrary I do like to play the wildcard from time to time. And I regard you in too high a manner to pretend we are nothing less than the normal.” He says, moving in closer to you, taking your breath away.
He continues his approach, making you bite your lip with the widest of eyes, unable to speak.
A moment later you return to your senses, blinking out of your fairytale moment.
“We cannot go any further… not unless you’re prepared to propose.” You say, backing up to build distance.
He continued to stare you down, trying to convince you to return his affections with only a look.
“You should like to paint a picture.” You joke in attempts to lighten the mood.
“Y/n if that is all it takes, I shall marry you in a few months time.” He announces, pulling you into his arms and swinging you around with joy.
“What a very romantic proposal, I may just swoon.” You say sarcastically, laughing as he puts you down with his own perplexed look.
“Whatever do you mean y/n? You asked for a proposal and i obliged.” He says, making you let out a snort.
“You obliged?! As though proposing to take my hand is some sort of duty you are ‘obliged’ to do. When I said proposal I meant a truly proper one. You must ask my father for permission to propose, you must bring flowers and be in the drawing room when we announce it as official.” You explain. “I am shocked you did not think of it, you were so very insistent upon it when it came to your own sister last season.” You scoff.
“If you should truly mean what you are asking, you shall be at y/l/n house tomorrow morning to treat me as the lady I am rather than a common whore you wish to trick. Understood?” You ask before he gets the chance to object your ultimatum.
He gulps and then nods rapidly, afraid to speak in case of offending you or further entangling the web of your relationship, watching you smile back at him and walk away, back to the party and away from him.
——————————————————
The next morning…
The very next morning, all of the eligible ladies of the ton are eagerly waiting for their dukes and viscounts and gentlemen to come calling. The center of London is bustling with activity of carriages, footmen and of course their gentlemen calling on the women they seek.
You are among those not so patiently waiting. Since you’d woken, you were in the drawing room, pretending to be distracted by books and needlepoint but in reality, being completely anxious for the day to come.
After you’d left Anthony and returned indoors, the night was somewhat of a blur. Your thoughts remained on Anthony but your physical presence was there, on the floor, where another gentleman, though much older than the others who seemed to fancy you, had asked for your third dance. You agreed, not wanting to be impolite or for your mother to have reason to invoke her rath.
So, you danced with the lord Gillington, and it was all fine but you held no interest in him, nor in Lord Newton, who apparently was to stop by today as well.
When the third dance ended you faked a headache and feigned fatigue to your mother, who reluctantly agreed. There were other eyes on you and she would have preferred you have at least one more dance but you had done as she asked and that was all she could hope for.
You arrived home early but that wasn’t to say you slept well. You were restless, worrying over the possibilities for the next day. Surely Anthony would never lead you on in a way such as this for your silly little game but there was no certainty there. Still you took comfort in knowing that he was typically a man of his word.
But now, as you sat twiddling with your thumbs, you weren’t so certain. He was as he liked to put it now ‘a wildcard’ when it came to romance and you had never actually attempted such a thing in your relationship.
You ignored your nerves and smoothed down your silky day dress and took yet another deep breath, getting ready to settle back in when one of your staff enter the room. Quickly you rise to your feet.
“A gentleman is here for ms. Y/l/n.” He announces and you smile wide at your mother.
“Send him in then!” She urges, just as excitedly.
He obliges and a minute later a man enters but your face falls as you see its not who you’d hoped.
“Lord Newton.” You greet, pasting as much of a smile as you can muster on your face, taking the delicate bouquet he holds into your own hands and giving them a polite smell.
“Lady y/l/n. You look beautiful, as always.” He greets back, lightly kissing your hand. Your mother looks ecstatic but you couldn’t be less so.
You knew it best to keep your options open but it wasn’t your nature. You were interested in one man and one man alone and it was all his own fault.
“Thank you lord Newton, that’s very kind of you. Would you like to sit?” You ask, sitting back down on the chaise, patting it lightly for him.
He graciously accepts, sitting next to you.
“I have come to ask if you should like to court, lady y/l/n? I do not wish to be too forward however I am quite taken with you my lady.” He states, smiling back at you and you don’t even have to look at your mother to know she’s likely bouncing with joy.
“I-” You start but he is quick to interrupt, something you don’t take kindly to.
“You need not make haste with your decision, I’m aware you will have more suitors throughout the day. I only wish to make my intentions known.” He says, once again kissing your hand. “I shall take my leave. Lady y/l/n. Lady y/l/n.” He says, bowing before walking out the door.
“Oh dearest! That is practically your first proposal! Of many I am certain.” Your mother cheers, hugging you tightly, laughing with joy.
You nod meekly, trying to stay somewhat happy for your mothers sake.
Throughout the day, callers come and go, bearing gifts and kind words nonstop. The room is a festival of colours and chatter and the sweet fragrance of florals everywhere. And yet, no Bridgerton caller had arrived thus far.
“Perhaps Lady Whistledown shall write bright things about our home this week! You are getting plenty of attention from the best of the gentlemen.” Your mama says as the latest of the male callers take their leave.
“Yes perhaps this is true mama.” You say with another smile.
As you take a seat, another caller arrives and you stand yet again with a weak smile, tired of the anticipation of the days end drawing near.
“Lord Ambrose for you my lady.” The staff announces and you smile as you dismiss him.
“Lord Ambrose how delightful to see you.” You greet, taking a seat with him. In that moment, your youngest sister runs into the room, chased by your younger brother.
“Children!” Your mother warns, trying to toss them out of the room.
“It is no bother mama, they may stay. That is if it does not displease you Lord Ambrose?” You ask, turning to him for answer.
“Certainly not, I do love children, it is not a bother at all.” He replies, smiling more at you.
The two of you make chitchat for a while, watching the younger y/l/n children play together happily, passing time surprisingly pleasantly.
“I shall leave, I have had a wonderful afternoon with you my lady. I do hope you’ll consider perhaps courting me this season?” He asks and you feel your smile slipping at yet another sort of proposal.
“Perhaps yes, I shall need some time to consider.” You reply, watching as he accepts the excuse, kisses your hand and leaves.
Your smile falls, watching out the window as the sun falling slowly.
Your eyes dart to the ground when another carriage arrives and you’re quick to sit back down, your mama and your papa, who had just come in from his study, both giving you looks of confusion.
“Another caller I think. We shall see who it is in a moments time.” You grin, hope still heavy in your heart.
Your sister runs over to you and takes a seat next to you, playing with your skirt but you ignore it, watching the doorway intently.
“The viscount Bridgerton is here for you my lady.” He says and your grin grows all the bigger.
“Send him in!” You say with as much eager energy in your voice as your mother had early on.
And so, in walks Anthony, with a large and stunning bouquet of his own and a smile you couldn’t compare to any of the other gifts you’d received today because if you even tried, the rest would never hold a chance.
“My Lord.” You smile, bowing low to him. “I do believe I said this morning.” You tease as you rise, speaking low so your parents cannot hear.
He smiles wider at your cheeky tone. “Yes, I do apologize for the late hour, I had difficulty getting anything appropriate from the florist, so many desperate suitors looking for their own and of course I needed one that could compare to your on beauty though I realize that to be nearly impossible.” He explains and you purse your lips as though thinking whether to believe him or not.
“Lord Bridgerton.” Your mother greets him, bringing your attention to the fact that you are not alone.
“Lady y/l/n, a pleasure. And lord y/l/n, it is an honor to see you again.” Anthony greets both your parents, making your glee spread that much more.
“You as well lord Bridgerton.” Your father says, standing to shake his hand.
“I actually have some matters I’d like to discuss with you my lord. Shall we excuse ourselves?” Anthony asks and your father nods. The men take their leave to the study, your little brother chasing after them, eager to listen in. Your mother tries to stop him but he ignores her and she’s clearly too tired to try anymore.
“Might I ask dearest, what it is that prompted the Viscounts call?” She asks you, raising an eyebrow.
“I believe it was Lady Danbury’s revelations after we shared a dance last night. It would seem his mother and her ladyship have noticed something that myself and Lord Bridgerton have not. Until now that is.” You smile, keeping the true reason a secret for Anthony and yourself to hold tight.
“I see…” She hums unsurely, still going back to her needlepointing rather than investigate any longer.
You remain playing with your younger sister, waiting eagerly for the men to finish their business, wishing nothing more than to be a part of the discussion.
In your own frustration and excitement, you barely notice Anthony’s returned to the room. Instead of telling you, he is mesmerized by watching you and your sister, smiling fully at the sight of you with a child. He had seen you interact with them before of course, but with the chance to finally have you for himself, Anthony couldn’t help picturing you as a mother and he couldn’t be more pleased with the idea.
Settling down was never something that had been on his mind, especially with romance actually taking part in it. He had always pictured a loveless marriage with many kids and his duties to keep both him and his wife occupied. But never in those images did he picture you as his wife. He pictured you with a prince or someone more worthy of your love, never himself. But the idea wasn’t unpleasant to him, instead it was a great joy to picture.
“Lady y/l/n, might I have a moment?” He asks and you gasp, jumping to your feet out of surprise.
“Yes of course lord Bridgerton.” You smile, your face once again flushed, causing him to stifle a chuckle.
The two of you enter the corridor, where he takes your hand in his. Your breath hitches and your heart is pounding in your chest.
“I have done as you asked. I have made myself look a bit of a fool in your honor, I have done the thing I never once imagined myself doing, and I have fallen in love with you. Love in a marriage has always been a great virtue but I never pictured it for myself until last night. I can see us starting a family, I can see us happy together. Lady y/l/n, y/n, would you allow me to ask for your hand? Your papa has agreed so long as it is in your wishes. I’m sure your mama would agree as well. There would be no greater honor for me.” He finally asks, making you giggle with excitement, real excitement this time.
“Anthony, you are the only man who causes me true and real joy. I know you to be a good and kind man. Yes I will marry you.” You smile, giggling as he hugs you tightly, trying hard to stick to your honor.
“That is good because I did see Lord Ambrose leaving earlier and I must tell you, he is something of a cheat. Cannot be trusted.” He says jealously and you scoff, giggling again.
“I believe I am the one who has you flustered this time, by the way.” He murmurs as you walk back into the drawing room to announce the news to your family.
“I believe that both of us have that challenge covered this time my lord.” You challenge quietly just before you declare your engagement to your family, leaving him both in want of you and puzzled by you all at once, just as both of you know you’ll likely do your whole marriage.
Warnings: my bad writing | GIF not mine | English is not my first language
Summary: You are the daughter of the Marquess of Queensberry, and have been a friend of the Bridgertons since birth. After your father allowed you to pursue your studies in France, you return to London to enter society. Upon receiving the news of your return from your father, Lady Bridgerton offers to look after you during this season. You are delighted to be reunited with your friends, confident that your past feelings for Anthony are now gone. But how true that is, you are soon to find out.
You were not nervous. Not at all. You were the epitome of calmness. That is why you could not stop toying with the ribbon around your wrist, or why you were tapping your foot on the marbled floor.
You were calm. Posed, elegant. A perfect lady.
It would have been nice if you could actually believe what you were so desperately trying to tell yourself. Your dear mama, bless her soul, would have fainted if she could have seen the mess you were making of your perfectly styled dress. But you were a lady, and you were calm.
And, most importantly, you were grateful that the butler had stayed silent. If anything, he just gave you a sympathetic look when you loudly gasped as he announced your arrival at the Bridgerton House.
There was no reason to be nervous, so you inhaled as much air as humanly possible, and stepped through the open door.
The first thing you saw was a flash of light blue, and before you could blink twice, Lady Bridgerton was in front of you, smiling fondly.
“My dearest Y/N,” she said, holding both of your hands, “it brings me so much joy to see you after all of these years.”
You breathed. This part was easy; it came to you like second nature to delicately wrap your arms around the woman who had been to you nothing less than a mother. “Lady Bridgerton, it is a pleasure to finally be here again.”
“Now, dearest, you know you must call me Violet,” she reminded you with the same sweet voice she used when you were a child, “we are family, after all.”
You bowed your head.
Family. That is what the Bridgertons were to you. And speaking of, you could not help but notice the absence of all of them.
“Where is everyone?” you asked, looking around the room.
“I thought it best not to call them this morning until you arrived. I wanted it to be a surprise.”
You nodded, taking a seat next to Lady Bridgerton. Everything was so familiar in this place, although most of your childhood was spent at Aubrey Hall, and you could not help but relax. You had loved your time in France, but returning home was a feeling so warm and overwhelming that it had managed to ease all of your nervousness for the upcoming season.
“I take France has been a lovely time?”
“Most wonderful. My tutors were incredibly patient with me and my studies proceeded well. Although, I must say I have missed you all.”
The door opened with a loud bang and you saw Gregory and Hyacinth making their way inside the room, fighting over something you did not quite catch.
“Children! Where are your manners? You must be on your best behaviour in front of our guest,” Lady Bridgerton said, amusement colouring her voice.
“Y/N!” both Hyacinth and Gregory shouted, immediately running to you. They had grown up so much in the three years you had been away, you could hardly believe that they were not the two little children of your memories.
You hugged them both, telling them how much you had missed them. Their shouts must have alerted the other Bridgertons because one by one they started filling the room. Benedict was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes when he noticed you, his younger siblings wrapped around you. Colin had wanted to share notions of his travels with you, seeming completely enraptured by your tales of France. Eloise could not stop asking you about your studies, what had you been reading, what did you think about modern political issues concerning women, and utterly expressing her frustration and envy at the fact that your father had allowed you to study while she was forced to go hunt for an eligible husband. Francesca was just as polite as you remembered and she made you promise to practice with her on the pianoforte.
In the middle of your reunion with the Bridgertons, you almost missed Anthony standing frozen at the door, disbelief written all over his face upon seeing you entertaining his siblings with your stories of France. When you noticed him, you shot him an amused smile.
“What is the meaning of this?” Anthony said looking at you and then at his mother. “Is it not custom anymore to inform first the head of the household of the arrival of a new guest?”
You laughed, hearing the amusement in his voice. You got up and walked towards Anthony, deciding once again that you were calm. Nothing was happening inside of you. Absolutely nothing.
“Hush now, brother,” said Benedict.
Anthony met you halfway through the room and you lightly bowed your head. “My Lord,” you said shooting him a playful glance, “I hope my unexpected arrival is not met with your disapproval.”
“I guess forgiveness might still be granted,” he sighed tilting his head to the side feigning annoyance. “With the right price, of course,” he added.
Eloise groaned in the back, “you two are gross”.
You could not help but laugh, “and what could possibly be that the Viscount wants from me?”
Anthony smiled at you. He was done joking, you could tell how happy and pleased he was to see you. You could have pointed out the small flip your heart did inside your chest, but you ignored it. It seemed there was a lot you were going to ignore when it came to Anthony Bridgerton.
“Why, but a hug.” And before you realised it, you were between his arms, your head gently pressed to his chest. You could not help but inhale deeply, because you could ignore almost anything, but you certainly could not ignore how much you had missed him. And perhaps your heart was now pounding in your chest, perhaps your throat felt tighter and you could not quite well inhale enough air. Perhaps your stomach became an intricate knot and your skin was burning you alive. And perhaps you had been a fool, thinking that three years in France would have removed any feeling you might have possibly harboured for the Viscount, but when you took a step back nothing of what was going on inside you was showing on your face.
You were going to ignore it all. And perhaps, you were going to ignore how the Viscount’s hand had brushed ever so lightly on the bare skin of your back when you pulled away. Perhaps, you were going to ignore the sharp intake of breath he took when you had rested your head on him. You were more than certain you were going to ignore how his fingers brushed your arms before falling back to his side.
Yes, you were going to ignore it all, for if there was one thing in this world you could not allow yourself to do, it was falling back in love with Anthony Bridgerton.
And so, you stayed calm.
***
The evening of your first ball since your return to England had finally come. Lady Danbury was hosting this ball to celebrate your reunion and your father had informed you earlier that day that the Queen would be attending. You supposed it should have come to no surprise considering that both women had been close with your mother, the late Marchioness.
“Maybe we can still find a way out of this dreadful situation.”
You turned around to look at Eloise wrestling with her dress and fidgeting around her gloves. You chuckled, “I am afraid one does not say no the Queen.”
“One could fake an illness or faint on the dance floor,” she muttered making Benedict laugh.
“Must you always be so much fun at every ball, sister?”
You shook your head and left the two Bridgertons arguing to themselves. To be completely honest, you were starting to feel nervous, and you regretted drinking that lemonade earlier. It was exhausting having to join meaningless conversations with men who had clearly no interest in your studies and with women who had too much interest in your private affairs.
“Lady Y/N, the Queen summons you.”
At last, the time had come. You made your way to where the Queen and Lady Danbury were standing, your heart sinking into your stomach. When you stood in front of the two women, you bowed deeply in sign of respect.
“My Queen, it is an honour to be back in England and in your presence,” you said with all the grace and sweetness your voice could manage. “Lady, Danbury, I am most grateful for the ball. Your kindness humbles me.”
The Queen smiled at you, and your worries disappeared. You had her favour still.
“Come, child. I want to hear everything about your trip.”
***
“I could not help but notice you are not dancing.”
You smiled, no need to turn around. You could have recognised that voice in the middle of a maze, at midnight, blindfolded. The way your chest would alight upon hearing that voice, the way the sound would carry its weight right into your heart and deep inside you, making you feel heavy and light at the same time, were all signs that you had learned to recognise with time.
“I am afraid I have not found anyone worthy of my time,” you replied.
You knew your mother would have wanted you to find a love match, or at the very least a comfortable marriage, but truth be told you were not looking for either. Your father had other plans for you when it came to marriage, and as for you, you swore off love years ago.
Anthony smiled at you, standing at your side. “I take you have not missed any of this?”
You looked around the room, at all those people dressed in fancy clothes, dancing and talking, some of them hoping to secure a future for themselves. You watched them from distance, as you have always done. The dynamics of society never really concerned you. Your father had made sure that you would be provided for well before your birth. Your life was secure in a way many of these people envied. You had no need for a husband, you had never really needed to fit in. The Queen had treated you like a protege since childhood, a favour to your mother. All you ever desired was to find your freedom and your place in the world. You had found the first, but you were far away from achieving the second.
“I suppose I have not, not really. I was never much of dancer,” you replied at last.
Anthony hummed and stepped in your line of vision, extending his hand towards you. “I remember differently from when we were children. Allow me to have this dance, Lady Y/N.”
And so, once again, you were a turmoil of emotions, desperately trying to tell yourself that you were imagining everything. You nodded your head, not really trusting your voice. Taking Anthony’s hand, you both stepped in the dance floor. His hand found its place in the centre of your back while the other held yours firmly.
“You are right, in a way,” you told him while spinning around the room. The way he would catch your body back to his was making it very difficult to concentrate on your steps. Your bodies were gravitating around each other, being pulled back together like a magnet.
Anthony cocked his head to the side, a curious glint in his eyes. You continued, “you are quite right, my Lord. We danced together a great deal in our youth. However, I never really enjoyed dancing, not even as a child, unless it was with you.”
You felt his grip on your back tighten and you could swear Anthony took a sharp intake of air. His hand was so firmly pressed against you that you soon found yourself dangerously close to him. The dancing pace had quickened and you were soon out of breath, yet you knew that the reason had little to do with the dancing itself. Anthony was silent, he was looking at you in the eyes, not allowing you to look anywhere but him. On the rare occasions that his eyes would move, it would be lower, and you had to fight the urge to whimper when you found him staring at your lips.
Breathing was becoming almost impossible. You had to get away from him. And really, you only had yourself to blame for the situation you were in. Three years spent in France trying to forget the very fact that your soul was consumed to its very core from the love you had for Anthony Bridgerton had not been sufficient enough. You had wasted all of your efforts and all it took was one dance. All of your talks of freedom, of independence, all was being washed away but the same feeling that caused you to flee.
You could not take it anymore, and so when the dance finally came to an end, you swiftly bowed to him and ran away in the most contained and gracious way you could manage. You did not stop when he called your name, nor when Eloise did the same. You had to get out of there because any minute spent around Anthony was another minute your heart would spend harbouring hopes of a future together. Hopes that you could not allow yourself to have. You were the only heir your father had, the family line was going to die with you. And so, your father had allowed the freedom and the independence you had always desired. As his only heir, you were to be Marchioness of Queensberry. But you could not marry or you would lose your title.
You could either marry Anthony Bridgerton and become his Viscountess or you could become the head of your own household and be Y/N, Marchioness of Queensberry.
Perhaps France had not been a far enough place for you to run to to get rid of these feelings. Although, you doubted there was a corner in this world you could go to where your soul did not long to be with Anthony, where your heart would ever stop loving him.
***
Dear Gentle Reader,
as I am sure you are aware, Lady Y/N of Queensberry has made her return to England and was present at yesterday night’s ball. For those of you who don’t remember, three years ago the young Marchioness left the country to pursue her studies in France. The reason behind such a decision is to most obscure, but not to this author. In fact, as the only heir of the Marquess of Queensberry, Lady Y/N has been schooled on matters of the estate, on top of the duties of a household. Nothing has been confirmed, but this author wonders whether certain traditions might finally come to an endand if indeed Lady Y/N is to become the new Marchioness. And now, dearest reader, I must inform you of what I am sure has been duly noted by many members of the ton. Lady Y/N, noted friend of the esteemed Bridgertons, was seen dancing with no one less than the Viscount himself. You must agree with me that the two did make quite the couple, and this author wonders if perhaps we are in the presence of what might very well be the most heartbreaking story of the season. Rest assured, dear reader, that I shall uncover the details.
Yours, Lady Whistledown
***
“Y/N? Are you listening to me?” Eloise was waving a hand in your face while you were all enjoying the sunshine in the park. You were lost in your own thoughts and had not heard a single word she said.
“I am sorry, Eloise, what were you saying?” You asked, shaking your head to get rid of your thoughts. It had been five days since the ball and you had managed to avoid Anthony with great success. Your father had joined you in London the day after the ball so you could assist him in his work. Focusing on your duties and responsibilities made it a lot easier to avoid Anthony but when the Bridgertons had asked you to join them for an afternoon stroll in the park you could not refuse. You finally had a chance to catch up with Daphne about her life and tried your best to avoid Anthony’s gaze.
“So, is it true what Lady Whistledown has written about you? You are to be Marchioness?” Eloise asked again.
You nodded, “indeed. Although, there is still much to learn before anything really happens.”
“That is quite lovely my dear,” Lady Bridgerton said with a small smile, although you couldn’t help but notice a hint of sadness in her eyes. “I cannot help but wonder what will happen when you finally find love.”
“Whatever do you mean, mother?” Benedict asked. You knew very well what Lady Bridgerton was asking and you finally understood the sadness you spotted in her eyes. She was worried about you.
“I cannot imagine many gentlemen who would marry a woman who is in charge of her own land,” Lady Bridgerton said.
“Then they would be a fool,” came Anthony’s reply. You forced yourself to not look at him in the eyes.
You sighed, “do not worry, Lady Bridgerton. I do not think it will pose any threat.” When you were met with confused looks, you continued explaining, “the conditions of my inheritance is that I will not marry. If I have to become Marchioness that shall be on my own and not through marriage.”
Lady Bridgerton gasped, “you cannot mean that. But what about love?”
You finally turned towards Anthony. He looked like someone had just punched all the air out of him. He opened his mouth to say something and then immediately closed it. He didn’t know what to say, but then again, what does one say when the person whom you have loved your entire life just told you they are never to be married?
“What about it? She’ll have something much better than that. She’ll have her independence,” replied Eloise.
“Yeah, I suppose I will,” you said sadly.
***
You were enjoying some lemonade, looking at all the people dancing. Throughout the years, when the other ladies where being taught how to dance gracefully and you were learning how to manage your estate, you had grown fond of being a spectator. You had learned how to recognise the look of true joy, to spot if a gentleman was interested in a young lady and if she had any feelings towards him. You had known from the very start that love would have no part in your life, so you learned how to live love through people.
Your father had been so scarred by the death of you beloved mama that he vowed you would never have to go through the same pain. And so, he had given you something many ladies wished for but could never have: your freedom. In return, you had given up love. You had set to France hoping to get rid of your feelings for the Viscount, wishing that distance could take them all away, so that you could become the Marchioness you were always meant to be. But now you knew how foolish you had been to even think that. Your feelings had resurfaced the moment your eyes met Anthony’s. They bursted into your heart and set it alight consuming you to your very core. And all was left behind was heartbreak and ashes.
“Is it true, then?”
You didn’t turn around, you already knew who it was. “Is what true, my Lord?”
“You are to be Marchioness?” Anthony asked you. This time you looked at him. His jaw was set, his posture rigid. Why did he look like he was the one in pain? And why did that make you feel hopeful?
“I am indeed, my Lord,” you answered him. You didn’t really know what he wanted you to say that he didn’t already know.
He nodded, “very well.” Then, he moved in front of you, just like he always used to do when he wanted to shield you from everyone else, the very same action that had always made you feel you were his and his alone. “May I have a last dance, Lady Y/N?”
You inhaled sharply. “My Lord?” You asked confused. Last dance? You had no idea what he meant by that. But Anthony offered you no explanation, he simply took your hand in the most delicate and loving way. Your heart melted, you did not care that it was probably inappropriate to take hold of a lady’s hand, all you cared about was the soft brush of his thumb against your skin. Everything inside you was burning. The world was empty but from him and you, and you were burning.
You started dancing. It was slow, it was intimate, it was painful. Every time he had to let you go, you could see the pain in his eyes. And every time you came back in his arms, he pulled you closer, like he never wanted to let you go. You felt Anthony’s hands gripping your waist, leaving a mark behind. You felt the heat through the fabric of your dress and you had never wished for the contact of his skin like you were now. Breathing was becoming a hard task.
“I guess this is why you never concerned yourself to dance with anyone else but me.” You were not expecting him to speak, nor to sound so broken.
You looked at him in the eyes, not even feeling offended at his slight accusation. “I dance only with you because you are the only one I want to dance with.”
He spun you around so that your back was firmly pressed to his chest. Then he lowered his head, and his lips brushed your ear ever so softly when he whispered “and why is that?”
Before you could turn around, the dance was over and Anthony was making his way out of the room. You were left there, breathing heavily, with your stomach scrunched in pain, empty and broken. Your father would be sad knowing that you had felt the pain of heartbreak long before you even knew what love was and that the very thing he had tried to shield you from was the thing that was already destroying you. But what your father could never figure out was that that pain, that crushing feeling of not being able to be with the person you loved, it was all worth it. Love was worth the pain, the burning. Anthony was worth every tear, every heartbreak because he was the person that had always cheered you up, the person you would go to whenever you were sad, the person who loved you dearly, of that you were now sure, and the person you had loved since you were old enough to know what love was.
He was worth the pain, he was worth more than your title. And so, you ran after him.
***
You found him on the terrace, his head lowered down, his shoulders visibly tense. He looked in pain and the sight broke your heart a little.
“Why did you say a last dance?” You announced yourself by asking him the question that had been plaguing you.
Anthony chuckled but there was no mirth in it. He shook his head, looking at the starry sky. “I cannot dance with you again.”
You took a step closer to him, “and why is that?”
Anthony rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed, turning around to face you. “Because it is too much of a torment. One that I cannot endure anymore.”
“I had no idea dancing with me would cause you so much torment, my Lord,” you said through a broken voice and tears that threaten to run down your face. “Rest assured, it is not my intention to hurt you any longer. You shall be free from your torment.”
“What are you implying?” His voice hardened, but whether it was from hurt or anger, you did not know. Anthony was now in front of you, his eyes frantically looking for yours.
You gulped, “I shall return to my estate in Scotland. I have no business in London seeing as I am in no need of a husband. You will never have to dance with me again.”
“You cannot do this.” Anthony grabbed your arm and you could no longer hold your tears. “You cannot leave again.”
You looked at his pleading eyes, at the fear that lied behind them, it was for you cause of immense pain. Perhaps this was the right thing to do. You came here to tell Anthony that you loved him, that your title meant nothing, and now you were in the middle of doing the opposite. It was for the best, you told yourself through the sobs. You could not disappoint your father. It did not matter that you would never know what it was like to be utterly and completely loved. It could not matter.
“Please,” Anthony whispered, “do not leave me again. These past three years have been so difficult, all I could think about was seeing you back here. Back with me.”
You shook your head, anger rising. “I do not understand. I thought I caused you torment?!”
Anthony squeezed your arm and rested his head on your shoulder, inhaling deeply. You felt his nose brush your neck and your heart skipped several beats. “It is the love I have for you that torments me so.”
“Anthony, I-“
“Y/N,” he spoke your name softly, hesitantly, almost scared. He said it so quietly and you were immediately drunk on the way it had sounded from his lips. “Being so close to you and not being able to kiss you,” his other hand now grabbed your waist, leaving hot marks on your skin, “to hug you, to make you mine in all the ways a man can make a woman his,” he continued, placing his lips to your ear and breathing in your scent, “it torments me. It is crushing my very soul.”
You were breathing hard, almost panting. Your head was hurting, you could not think. Everything around you was a blur and all that existed was the man who was gripping your waist as if you were the only anchor in the ocean that could save him. All you could feel was Anthony’s lips brushing against your skin, so close that you could feel little sparkles and yet so far from where you really wanted them. Your world was on fire, and Anthony had been the one to set it aflame.
“Anthony, please-”
“But I am a gentleman, and I cannot,” he said tearing himself away from you, “I will not take away your freedom, your title.”
You shook your head with vigour and this time it was you who grabbed his arm. “Don’t,” you whispered, “don’t take away my freedom by choosing for me.”
Anthony was refusing to meet your eyes so you tugged on his jacket, “I love you, Anthony Bridgerton. And I have done so since the very first time you asked me to dance with you.”
You were now crying. Silent sobs were shaking your body and your head was pounding so hard that you could hardly stand up. Anthony finally met your eyes and brushed away your tears. You smiled, wishing that you could show him how much he had always meant to you. But here you were, crying on the terrace and no idea on how to fix the situation you were in. You loved the Viscount, but did the Viscount love you?
“I do,” Anthony said, reading the silent question in your eyes. “I am tormented by my feelings for you, by the fear that I will be taking away from you much more than what I will be able to give you in return. But I love you, every day more than each passing one. With all of my heart, my soul is yours.”
And then he kissed you. Slowly, like you expected him to do. Because Anthony had always been careful with you, always making sure you were comfortable and happy with him. He had a way of touching you, almost as if he was touching a diamond, as if he wanted to worship you, cherish you. You kissed him back through your salty lips, anchoring yourself to him. His lips were soft and warm and you never wanted him to stop. You needed him to never stop.
You let out a small sigh, almost a moan, and it was all it took for Anthony to groan into your mouth and completely devour your very essence. He was everywhere, in your hair, on your waist, touching your back, caressing your face, pushing you closer and closer to him. He was consuming you, and you had no objection to it.
“Anthony,” you sighed while trying to breathe in as much air as you could. He was smiling at you, so bright and beautiful, and you could swear that in that moment there was no title, no duties to honour, just the love that you two shared.
You laughed, finally happy. “I choose you, Anthony Bridgerton.”
“What about your position?” He asked.
“I will deal with my Father when the time is due. For now,” you said resting your head on his shoulder, completely at peace, “for now, I choose you.”
Anthony kissed the top of your head and embraced you. The two of you stayed like this for a very long time, long enough for Benedict to find you, still embraced, still in love with each other, still so happy. You would both worry about the future tomorrow. Because you were determined to keep your position as Marchioness and marry the man you loved. You had made your choice and the world was going to respect it, one way or the other.
Request: can i have a Anthony Bridgerton OS in which Y/N has known the family for life as she lives next door to them and has also loved Anthony for as long as she can remember. One morning in Lady Whistledown it is written that Y/N loves Anthony and she tries to avoid him and the rest of the family I don’t know exactly how it’s supposed to end, but please have a happy ending
TW:
Word Count: 921
A/N: As always, I am taking my favorite parts of both the books and the show and deciding that that is my canon.
It is my honor to share with you that Daphne Bridgerton has been announced the diamond of the season. However, that is not the only good news the Bridgerton family has received as of late.
Miss (Y/N) (L/N) has officially entered the season. As to why she waited so long to join, the ton is full of speculation. It is in this author’s opinion that she waited until she was certain Lord Bridgerton himself would be present at all functions. Now that his presence is guaranteed, I am certain Miss (L/N) will do her best to tame the Rake.
After all, no woman can spend that much time with him without expecting something to come of it.
You throw the pamphlet down. Lady Whistledown has written some truly egregious things, but you never gave them much mind. Until she wrote about you. It would have been bad enough if she had just written mindless gossip, but she had to insinuate that you were-oh! You don’t even want to say it.
“Can you believe what she wrote?” you exclaim.
Your mother takes the pamphlet from you, skimming it before finally saying, “It really isn’t that bad, dear.”
“That bad? Not only did she-”
“(Y/N),” she interrupts, “everyone in the Ton believes you to be in love with the viscount. At least with a confirmation, they will be vying for your attention.”
“I suppose.”
“Plus, it could make the viscount finally take an interest in you.”
“Mother!”
She shrugs. “I’m not saying you have to marry him. I am only saying that if you wanted to, this could be helpful.”
You roll your eyes. “Right now, I do not want to see him. I simply want Lady Whistledown to find a new scandal to write about.”
“Miss (L/N), Lord Bridgerton is here to see you,” your butler announces.
“No,” you protest before your mother can invite him in. “No he is not, and I am not here.” You move up the stairs before anyone can stop you, leaving the three of them standing in the sitting room.
When you get to your room, you fall against the door. What Lady Whistledown wrote was not entirely false. You hadn’t exactly waited to announce your participation in the season until you were certain that Anthony Bridgerton would be part of it. That is not to say that that had not been an added bonus.
You had always seen Anthony Bridgerton as someone you could marry. He is smart, dependable, wealthy, a viscount, and he is not too terrible to look at. You could see yourself living quite a happy life with him.
At least, that is all you are willing to admit to anyone who will ask. As long as that person is not Anthony Bridgerton. That man, if you can help it, will never know how you feel about him. Not even in the slightest.
You know that the moment you see him, he will want to develop some sort of plan to solve this predicament, and you just cannot handle that right now. In fact, you are not sure you can ever handle it.
Though, society still demands your presence, no matter how much you want to avoid it all.
You walk into the ballroom, wanting nothing more than the ground to open up and swallow you whole. The only thing in your favor is that the Whistledown article was published a few days ago, and people have begun to forget about it.
However, that is the only thing in your favor.
As soon as you enter the room, Anthony finds you. “Miss (L/N),” he greets, “care for a dance?” If societal rules did not dictate you say yes, you would have refused. No one knows that better than Anthony.
“Of course, Lord Bridgerton.”
He smiles, taking your hand and leading you into the center of the room. “I was sorry to hear that you were feeling poorly when I came to your house the other day.”
“Thank you.”
“I had wanted to talk to you about the Whistledown article,” he states, gauging your reaction. When you do not respond, he continues, “My sisters found it quite interesting. I must confess, it is not something I would generally read, I found it quite interesting.”
“Did you?” you squeak.
“It seems that a dear friend of mine might have something she wants to tell me. Do you have any idea what that might be?” he teases.
“I’m sorry, my lord, I do not.”
He bites back a laugh. “You, Miss (L/N), are truly something. If you wanted my help this season, you should have just asked.”
“I can assure you, I am doing just fine on my own.”
“Well then, you weren’t bothered by the column at all?”
You shake your head, not trusting your voice.
He hums. “Then I suppose it is coincidence that you got over your illness only moments after I left your house the other day.”
“Must be.”
He smiles as the song ends. “For a moment I was worried that the article had been true and that you intended to court me.” When your face falls, his lightens. “So, Miss (L/N), if I were to call on you tomorrow, do you think you would be feeling well?”
You feel your cheeks heat up. “I think I might.”
“Let me go grab a glass of lemonade for you.”
“Please.”
He turns around, mistakenly glancing at his mother, who smiles widely.
Warnings: injury, little blood, getting stitches, anthony being an idiot, fem pronouns
Summary: after a little accident in town left you in need of some comfort while getting stitches, anthony fears he may be developing feelings for his wife
A/n: this was actually my very first anthony fic so go easy on me lol
Warnings: mutual pining, mention of parental death, breaking of societal rules (this sounds so serious gosh, they hug and whatnot)
Summary: your horse falling ill derails your traveling plans and leads you to dinner with your childhood best friend and his family, what confessions will be made when anthony aims to comfort you?
