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.
Read part 1 here,part 2here!,part 3here!,part 4here! (This is the last chapter)
Summary: When a proposal has been offered, will you accept or forever keep your doubts? Can love truly conquer all?
“Marry me.”
You stumbled a bit backwards, letting your hand slide out of his. His request floating around your mind in little fragments. Fragments that had not yet been pieced together. Shivering out a breath, moved you, your hand towards your chest. How could he so easily decide the future when you were still yet uncertain about the present. The damage that has been done was not something to take lightly. Being personally cast out by the queen herself had consequents. If this meant you were out of the season for the rest of your live, you could never accept his hand in marriage. You wouldn’t wish a life of cruelty upon him.
Not on the man you love. Not even for a snippet of happiness. – “I…I…” – stuttered you out, afraid to look him in the eye. Benedict kept looking hopeful at you, keeping his warm smile up. He was starstruck for even seeing the possible dangers ahead. – “I…I…” – your gaze went up towards your father. He was smiling, perhaps a pure smile you had barely seen. Not a hint of miscommunication in it, simple but pure honesty. For the first times in forever had he been happy, content with you. You didn’t want to take that from him.
Then you adverted your gaze to Benedict’s brothers. Against all odds were they standing right here. By your side. Taking your side. No one had done that ever. It was unfair to them for what you had in mind. Your mind was chaos, every horrifying end tormenting you. How could you accept despite it all. This wasn’t a simple answer of yes or no, this was more than that. Reputations were at stake, reputations you didn’t want to shatter. You never did. If accepting meant dragging Benedict and his family alongside with you, you preferred to suffer alone. As you always have, for alone is all one person can have. Alone protects you.
It protects those you love, leaving the suffering to you. Taking away their pain as you had endured so much pain it became bearable. You started to slightly shake your head, pressing your lips together, feeling the tears emerge. – “I…I can’t.” – whispered you out, taking another step back. Benedict exhaled shocked, his knees going wobbly as he felt himself being dragged under. Colin ran up to his brother, holding him up by the shoulder. – “I’ve got you brother.” – said he, making sure Benedict stand up straight. – “I am sorry…” – sobbed you out, allowing some tears to roll down your cheek.
Your father ran up to you, shocked by your revelation. – “Y/n, my darling.” – called he out, staring baffled at you. Benedict found a bit of his strength back, patting Colin on his chest that he was alright. Colin carefully let go of his brother, keeping a close eye on him. – “Why?” – asked Benedict, taking a step closer to you. You sniffed loud, turning slightly towards him again. – “Why? You know why?” - told you him, your lip trembling from the sudden strong emotions. Benedict shook his head with a bite of his lip. – “Not good enough.” – answered he, shrugging his shoulders a bit. You exhaled sharp, taken by his determination.
Why was he so stubborn. – “Why, Y/n?” – he asked again, pounding his fist down in the air. You shook your head, not wanting to have this conversation by the palace. You turned around, walking away from him with your father by your side. Benedict wasn’t ready to let you off so easily. He knew his love was not one-sided. He had seen the emotions inside of you. He had seen the longing, the desire. He had seen it because he saw it within himself. He hated that despite it all you were still trying to protect him. Even when he told you numerous times not to. All he ever wanted was to love you, be by your side and support you no matter what.
“In sickness and in health, is that not a requirement?” – shouted he at you, ready to defend himself. – “I know you are afraid Y/n, I am too, but that doesn’t give away the fact that I…I…” – Benedict felt his hands tremble as he came to a stop. He felt like his emotions were steering him. He felt all control over himself slip away. The fight lust inside of him so grand, it made him go towards every length to keep you close. – “Benedict please…” – said you, wiping some tears away.
“How many more times must I proclaim myself? You are all that matters to me, nothing more. I want you, I … I love you.” – confessed he, making you abruptly stop. – “I love you with all my heart and it pains me… it pains me to see that you are not willing to give it a chance, us a chance.” – Benedict started to slowly approach you as you had stopped moving. His words casting a spell on you that kept you in place. – “I beg of you…” – you breathed in shivers, feeling his hands slide up the back of your arms. His sudden touch captivating you. – “I have lost myself in you.” – whispered he out, breathing against your neck.
You turned around sharply with tears in your eyes. – “I’m scared…” – exclaimed you. – “I am afraid that I might be the cause of all your pain. I do not wish that upon you. I love you… and the fact that I love you is why I must protect you.” – cried you out. Benedict moved his trembling hand towards your cheek, letting it rest there. – “I’m scared that all has been for nothing. That I can’t be the loving wife you require, that I cannot give you what you desire, that I cast my shadow upon you. I have seen it.” – you gave Benedict a slight push against his chest.
“I have seen what my condition does to people.” – you moved your head slightly to the side, seeing your father stare shameful at the ground. He knew you were speaking of him. Of all the deeds he had done towards you. – “I have seen it change them. Change them so much they are afraid to look at me. Benedict, I don’t want you to stop looking at me.” – tears were streaming ruthlessly down your cheek, clouding your vision. Benedict curled up a tiny smile. – “I shall never.” – whispered he to you. – “You don’t know that…” – answered you back. Benedict inhaled deeply, looking up to the blank night sky for a moment.
“I am telling you… right here that I love you Y/n. All of you.” – spoke he out, gazing back at you. With his palm against your cheek, wiped he some tears away. – “Don’t be afraid my love… It is time to let go of your fears…” – you shuddered, closing your eyes for a moment. – “Do not let society decide for you, do not let it lead your life. For I shall stand by your side no matter what. If the queen forbids you from the season, let her be… for I have already found who I wish to marry.” – slowly opening your eyes again, stared you in his hopeful eyes.
You loved his sense of hope when you could not. – “Y/n, I ask you again… will you accept my hand in marriage for I will love you entirely.” – He rose your hand up, holding it gently in his hand. Everyone was waiting in anticipation for you to speak. Benedict inhaling deeply as his chest rose with the tension building up inside of him. You could not deny your doubts and fears, but perhaps you simply had to take that leap. For how else were you going to discover what laid at the bottom of the cliff. For love is scary, allowing oneself to fully let go to experience it’s deepness. Love was a burning flame, bursting with light with one single touch.
You curled up a smile, slowly nodding. – “With all my heart.” – whispered you out, finally letting go of your fears. A smile spread across his lips, unable to contain himself. Benedict moved his hands around your back, lifting your body a bit up. Inhaling sharply, pressed he his lips against yours. That simple touch that made you reborn. Become a whole new person. Moving your hands to his jawline, tilted you your head to kiss him from a different angle. Love was indeed a burning flame that you felt inside of you. Why did you ever doubt him. It finally was clear to you that he loved you, all of you. There was nothing to be afraid of anymore for you had each other. You didn’t have to be alone anymore, for love has found its way to you. Granting you with the upmost caring gentleman one could ever give. Benedict Bridgerton, your artist, your protector, your friend, your husband.
Anthony cleared his throat, breaking Benedict, and you apart. – “How this is all very warmly, I do have to remind you that we are in public.” – informed Anthony with a shy smile on his face. Benedict and you took a step apart from each other. Gazing with deep affection to one another. – “Y/n darling, we must get home… I do not wish to be handled like that again.” – your father was right. It was wrong to stand here as she had casted you out so easily. – “We must head back inside for our dearest sister and mother.” – pointed Colin out, looking a bit over his shoulder. Benedict took your hand, leaving a caring kiss on top of it. Smiling at him, watched you him step back, letting your hand slowly slip out of his till it hung beside your body again.
Father took you by the arm, leading you towards the carriage. The two of you got inside as you sat by your fathers side. He threw his arm around you as you came laying against his chest. – “I hope you can forgive me… I cannot give any excuses for my behavior, and I will not for I have committed a crime. I do hope you can forgive your dear old papa for his blind eye.” – he threw his other arm around you as well, pulling you closer to him. – “From now on, I shall always be there for you. In sickness and in health, for I do not wish to lose you.” – He turned his head, kissing the top of your head.
A sudden crack of wood made you fly up in the carriage. Landing firmly back onto the seats as one part of the carriage had been send down. – “Father what is going on?” – called you out anxiously as the carriage came to a sudden stop. He held his finger to his lips, telling you to be quiet. Outside heard you loud voices. Father looked frightened at you, his face turning pale. – “Whatever you hear… stay here!” – demanded he, gripping tight onto your hand. – “Father!” – whispered you out in panic, seeing him take his leave. You moved over to the door, keeping your head out of sight.
You tried to listen in to the sudden voices as it sounded that they were with many. – “Good sirs…” – heard you, your father say with his hands up. You gasped in shock, covering up your mouth when you witness your father being punched in the stomach. He stumbled to the ground in pain. You wanted to jump out of the carriage and assist your father in any way. You heard loud laughter, seeing him get kicked in the stomach while he was crawling in pain on the ground. Your hands were trembling with fear. If your father was unable to defend you, what might they do to you once they find you.
A reflection of light marched into the dark as it made you widen your eyes. Torches. They were carrying torches and they were marching… marching up to the carriage. Your father knew what they were going to do as well, grabbing a hold of one’s ankle. – “Stop! My daughter is in there… please…” – begged he out, receiving another kick. He groaned in out in pain, rolling over to the side. A man held his hand out, demanding to be given a torch. – “No… please… stop…” – called your father out in pain, feeling every bone in his body hurt. – “You shouldn’t have brought her to the palace.” – said the man holding the torch, leaning down to your fathers face.
“No… I beg of you… my daughter is innocent.” – pleaded your father with them, trying to get back up to his feet. – “We’ve all heard the rumors!” – shouted he loud, roaring up his crowd. – “Your daughter is a stain to our society, and we don’t want her kind here!” – his men cheered loud as he threw his hand up. – “No!” – father screamed in pain, locking eyes with you in the carriage. You were terrified, unable to move as you heard them approach. They started banging on the carriage to scare you. You were being shaken around, crying in terror. – “Get… away… from my daughter!” – called your father out between clenched teeth, pushing himself to get up.
With his hand against his stomach, limped he over. Desperate to protect you till his very last breath. – “Father!” – cried you out, wanting to get out but someone was holding the door firmly. Father groaned loud, waving his fist around. He received a blow against his nose, sending him down. – “No!” – screamed you out, trying to get out of the carriage. They just walked over him like he was nothing. – “Let me out!” – yelled you out, wiping your tears aggressively away. You saw the burning torch come closer, hearing the crackling sounds from crisping wood. Screaming in agony, were you jamming hard against the door that would not budge.
“We have endured you long enough!” – shouted one of the men at you. Feeling the last bit of strength slip away, felt you lost. How could this be the end when it hasn’t even begun yet. You were going to marry the man you love. Grow old with him and share so many adventures. The torch was so close to the carriage now that it only took a good connection for the carriage to catch fire. You gasped, hearing horses neigh loud. At least three you could distinguish. You heard someone jump off the horse as their feet landed with a thud on the gravely road. Punches were being handed out. Hearing grunts of pain and anger.
You dared to pop your head out of the window, widening your eyes at your rescuers. – “Benedict!” – screamed you out loud. It caught him off guard for a moment, getting punched in the face. Feeling a bit wonky, collapsed Benedict almost to the ground. All men had moved away from the carriage, fighting against one of the Bridgerton brothers. It suddenly started to feel warm in the carriage as you spotted that the torch had been dropped. Laying against the broken wooden wheel, catching fire. You called it out, kicking your feet against the doorframe as it wouldn’t budge. – “Dear God!” – breathed Anthony out, seeing the carriage catch fire.
“Colin!” – shouted he out, punching a guy in the face. His boxing skills coming in handy after all. Colin nodded, pushing a man’s grip off him. He than ran over to the carriage, trying to pull the door open. He was kicking against it, pulling at it, anything for it to move. The carriage started to fill up with smoke as the ceiling started to catch fire as well. – “Colin!” – called you out, keeping yourself as low as possible. – “Come on!” – grunted Colin out, wanting the door to work with him. Benedict saw his brother struggling as well as the burning carriage. He fought off the handy man that he couldn’t shake off. With a bloody forehead, jumped he over some unconscious fallen men, aiding his brother.
“Y/n! it’s going to be alright love.” – reassured he you, pulling at the handle. – “It won’t work!” – answered Colin hastily. Benedict clenched his jaw, not ready to lose you. You were crying, laying with your head on the seat to stay as low as possible. Benedict moved his hand to the window frame, trying to see if you could fit through. – “I’m going to pull you out, my love, I promise you.” – called he out desperately, trying to break the framework of the window. It cracked since it had been weakened by the warmness of the flames. Benedict reached his arms into the carriage as you got up. You felt the intense heat above you, sticking your hands out. Benedict moved his arms tightly around you, lifting you up as he tried to pull you out through the open window.
Colin helped pulling, pushing your body a bit up so that it could tip you over. You popped free, falling onto Benedict as he fell to the ground. From intense happiness, cried you in his arms. Telling him how much you loved him and how scared you were. Colin helped the two of you up to your feet, moving away from the burning carriage. Anthony had fought off the last man as many others had taken a run for it. He was now helping your father up to his feet. – “Your… your bleeding.” – called you out, touching his forehead briefly. It stinged but he tried to not let you see it. – “It’s nothing.” – reassured he you, taking your hand in his.
“How… how is it that you are here?” – questioned you, laying in Benedicts arms on the grass. Your head resting against his chest while he cherished you in his embrace. – “We heard them talk about their plans.” – replied Anthony out of breath. You snuggled closer to Benedict, seeking comfort. You didn’t want to say it, but it frightened you how you were still not out of the clear. It was never simple with the two of you. Always an obstacle in the way that would prevent you from loving. A cruel society, one more turning their back on you. Benedict noticed the doubts reflecting in your eyes as he tilted your chin up to him. – “Don’t go refusing me again, Y/n. My heart can’t take it.” – chuckled he out. – “I won’t… not this time.” – responded you, looking deep into his eyes. – “I am not afraid anymore.”
Eloise clamped onto her brother with a smile on her face. Trees of blossom were spreading their petals through the wind. It was a happy day for everyone as two would be reunited into one. Benedict and you were ready to say your vows. To no longer be two, but one. For one cannot stand without the other. With pride in his eyes, gazed Benedict upon your arrival. You were dressed in all white, holding onto your father’s arm. He was being supported by a cane as his body had not healed up properly yet from the incident.
He guided you towards your intended. Eloise let go of her brother as Benedict extended his hand out to you. You let yours slip into his, walking up to him. – “Are you ready my love?“ - whispered he to you. – “You can always turn back now before you are bound to me.” – chuckled you out. – “Not a chance.” – responded he, leaving a gentle kiss against your forehead. Taking his arm, allowed you him to guide you inside. It was a small ceremony, just those close to you present. You sealed you vows with a kiss as loud cheering filled the church.
Outside hugged you everyone before your departure with your newly wedded husband. Never in a million years did you think you would call one husband. You thought no one would love you with what you carried, but one did. And one phenomenal one indeed. You couldn’t have wished for a better person to love. You finally found yourself worthy of being loved. Gregory bowed before you with a saddened face. – “Aw Gregory.” – said you, kneeling down to him.
He threw your arms around your neck, moving your arms around him. – “I’ll miss you.” – whispered he into your ear. You moved his head back, wiping a tear of his cheek. – “I’ll miss you too dear Gregory, but I promise to invite you soon as you…” – you touched his nose with your finger brief. – “don’t forget to invite me to tea as many times as you like.” – That made him laugh between his tears. You pulled yourself back up, taking Benedicts hand. You waved everyone goodbye one last time before heading off.
The wood in the fireplace was crackling delightful. You stood before it, warming your hands up to it. Benedict approached you from behind, letting his fingers go up your arm. His face buried in the crook of your neck. There he planted a kiss. A soft kiss that made you smile. His hands slowly lowered towards your waist, leaving another kiss in your neck. He pushed some fabric aside over your shoulder to kiss it as well. You melted at his touch that send shivers up your spine. – “My dear wife.” – breathed he out, kissing your bare shoulder again.
You turned around, laying your arms around his neck. – “My dear husband.” – replied you, staring dreamingly at him. He brought his lips down towards yours, whilst holding onto you firmly. He started guiding you away from the fireplace, his lips forever on yours. Kissing him with such longing, it made your heart beat out of your chest. You could feel the pounding of his heart against yours, beating for one another. Standing close by the bed, guided he his hands up. He unbuttoned you, dropping your dress to the floor. His hands then started to fumble the ribbon of your corset. You guided your hands down to his chest, unbuttoning his shirt.
With one smooth pull, untied he the knot at the top of your corset. You giggled against his lips at how eager he was. Benedict kept kissing you whilst trying to tear the corset off you. It slipped off as he let it drop to the ground. You carefully stepped out of it, standing only in your undergarments. Benedict’s hand laid against your back, feeling your warm skin underneath his palm. For the first time, felt he truly close to you. Feeling every bit of your core. You stopped kissing him for a moment, holding him as he guided his lips to your neck. He kept kissing you uncontrollably as your body warmed up by his touch.
You gasped quietly at the sudden sense. It felt unsettling as you questioned it at first if it was real. Benedict stopped kissing you, placing his hand against your cheek. – “Are you alright Y/n?” – questioned he, sensing something was off. You fluttered with your eyelashes, winching at the sting of pain coming from inside of you. You bend down, gripping onto his shirt as you held your stomach. It was happening again. One of your episodes at the worst timing. A sting of pain went through your entire body, making you collapse through your knees. Benedict gasped, preventing you from falling.
You pushed him away, falling onto the ground. He stared at you in shock, hoping you wouldn’t turn him away again. You crawled back against a closet, coughing loud. Your entire body shivering from the intense pain as Benedict witnessed your condition firsthand. You kept coughing loud, unable to stop as you let your fingers slide down your throat. Wheezing were you grasping for breath. It was like your lungs were on hold, not working for a moment as you felt like suffocating. Benedict rushed to your side, kneeling beside you. – “Breath Y/n, breath!” – called he out in a state of panic.
Your head laid back, grasping for air. You witnessed the concern in his eyes, slowly cracking him. Then gasped you loud, screaming in tears. You let your head fall forwards against Benedict’s arm, crying loud. – “Please….” – begged you him. A part of you still wanted to seclude this from him. Shield him from the pain inside of you. Your body twitched, coughing loud in your hand. Benedict was in slight shock, not knowing what to do. It was clear that he was no match for your illness. – “Please…” – begged you again, wanting him to turn a blind eye. Benedict shook his head firmly, inhaling deeply.
“I promised to love you in sickness and in health.” – replied he, letting his palm go upwards your cheek. – “What must I do?” – whispered he to you. You pointed lifelessly at the bed, unable to control your tears. Benedict carefully picked you up from the ground, leading you over to the bed. He laid you down, staring bewildered at you. You took his hand, pulling it down. You wanted him to lay beside you. So he did, laying himself carefully beside you. You rolled over to your side, pulling his hand over your body. Benedict understood what you meant, crawling closer against your body. He slid his arm underneath your body so that he could fully hold you close.
You cried in terror, wishing for the pain to go away. The pain that made every muscle in your body sting. Benedict kept his body firmly against yours, burying his face in your hair, closing his eyes. He felt the shocks your body made against his, making him grip onto you firmer. Fearing that if he faltered, you might slip away from him. – “I love you Y/n.” – said he, kissing the back of your shoulder. He wanted you to know you are so loved, even in a state like this. He thought he would be scared and at first, he was. Laying here with you, gave him the strength to carry on. He understood that you needed him, that he needed to be the better man. If this was what a life spending with you meant. Then he would gladly spend it like this. In time he would learn to pick up any of your signals better to ease your way through it.
“I am sorry…” – said you between coughs. – “What for?” – asked he, lifting his head a bit up. – “For ruining our wedding night…” – Benedict kissed your neck gently. – “Our night is not ruined my love. I say it brought me closer to you in any way possible.” – you cracked up a tiny smile, finding some joy between your pain. – “Besides I shall have from now on every night with you. You might find me annoying one day when you wish not to sleep so tightly in my embrace.” – chuckled he out. You rolled a bit over to your back, looking up to him. – “I could never…” – whispered you to him. Benedict lowered his head, kissing your forehead as you felt so weak. – “I’ll watch over you…” – said he, making you exhale deep. You rolled back to the side, clamping onto his arms around you. Like a cocoon were you held safe in his embrace. Where nothing bad could ever touch you.
The smell of gunpowder filled your nostrils as the smoke was curling up from your riffle. Opening your one eye again, moved you, your head a bit to the side. You wanted to see how well you had done. Opposite from you, heard you a cry, followed by arms swaying up in the air. You exhaled deep at the sound of the loud thud. A body dropping to the ground. No… a corpse. Without thinking to much of it, hurried you up to your feet. The thorns from the bush you had been hiding behind, scratching your hands. Pulling the handle back, readied you, your riffle for another run.
It had to be quick as danger was nearby. Jumping over the bush, hurried you to rejoin your group. Dragging your boots through the puddles. You heard voices, thinking, hoping you had found your group again. Some twigs snapped underneath a heavy boot as it set you off. Your muscles squinted together, sending a wave of panic rushing through your body. You tried to hear from where the sounds came. Somewhere before emerged a man from between the trees. You gasped spotting him. He did the same. Both of you hid as quickly as you could behind a tree for coverage.
Holding your riffle in front of you, added you a bit more gunpowder to it. – “Friend or foe!” – called you out loud. You had to be absolutely sure. There was a risk it was the enemy. You had to act quick than to terminate him. If he was a friend, it would be wise not to kill him as you were already outnumbered. – “Friend!” – heard you him shout back from a distance. The soft wind picking up his voice. – “How can I be certain of that!” – shouted you back. – “State your name and division, Sir!” – You waited for an answer, your eyes scanning the scenery before you. You didn’t want to be ambushed. – “Sir Richard Davis, eleventh division under the watch of General Camberfelt!” – shouted he loud as it made you exhale relieved. – “State yours!” – carried the wind away.
“Lord Y/n Bridgerton, ninth division under the watch of General Williams.” – answered you. – “Bridgerton?” – heard you him repeat. You slowly came from behind the tree, your opponent do the same. From afar, lowered both of you, your riffles. Stepping over crunching leaves, made you, your way over to him. Davis and you met in the middle, patting each other on the arm. – “Ninth? You are far from your station.” – spoke Sir Davis, walking beside you. You hummed loud. – “We got separated.” – replied you. Glancing over your shoulder, were you reminded of what you left behind. Holes in the ground created by explosions. Dismembered soldiers lost forever.
“Here.” – Sir Davis offered you some water from his flask. – “You seem thirsty son.” – You gladly accepted it, pouring the sweet cold water down your throat. When you handed him back the flask, noticed you he had been staring at you. Quirking your eyebrow up, wondered you what he saw in you. – “You seem young.” – stated he. You laughed soft. – “Six-and-twenty, sir.” – answered you proudly. Sir Davis chuckled, patting you on a back. – “A wise young man, I see.” – you turned to look at the woods before you, but Sir Davis was not done speaking yet. – “You the eldest?” – questioned he. You shook your head. – “Third, Sir. When we received the note, I went instead of my brothers.” – your mind went back to the time, you first received the note. The note that would stir a lot of emotions.
Violet handed the note over to Anthony. – “It’s from the army.” – whispered she at him. Anthony’s eyes widened, immediately getting up. He left the parlor as you followed him. You heard enough to understand what it was about. Anthony walked into his study, exhaling deep as his hands leaned against his desk. He got startled by the door opening. You entered, shutting the door behind you. – “What are you doing here Y/n.” – asked Anthony of you, not even have opened the note. – “I’ll do it.” – said you firmly. Anthony gaped at you when you pointed at the note in his hand. – “I… what?” – breathed he out. – “I knew this day would come. Every household in London has been receiving them.” – explained you to your brother.
Anthony was stunned for a moment at your keen observation. Anthony turned himself around to quickly read the note. – “You cannot change my mind about it. I am going.” – insisted you whilst Anthony was still reading. His eyes hastily moving over the words, hoping he hadn’t read anything wrong. He exhaled deep, placing the note down. – “I am the eldest… It is required of me to go.” – spoke he, his back still faced to you. – “It is not, brother.” – Anthony straightened his back, turning slowly around to you. – “You expect me to let you take my place? Y/n, I…” – he shook his head, baffled at the words that didn’t seem to form in his mind. – “This is absurd!” – mumbled he out, rubbing his chin.
You firmly walked across the room to him. – “You are needed here, brother! To look after mother and the others.” – you reminded him of his duty. – “The entire family relies on you. You are the head of the house.” – Anthony bit his lip, shaking his head slightly. – “Then it is still not your task, Y/n.” – said he. You puffed loud, crossing your arms. – “What? You wish to send Benedict? You know as good as me that he wouldn’t survive a day out there.” – called you out, Anthony slightly agreeing with you. – “Benedict his place is with art, not with war.” – Anthony couldn’t argue with that. Defeated slumped he against his desk, exhaling long and deep.
“What must I do…” – muttered he to himself, rubbing his palms against his eye sockets. – “I’ll take the family’s place.” – reminded you him. – “Y/n you…” – started Anthony. – “This is my purpose, Anthony! To fight in honor of my family. War is upon us, and we cannot deny it any longer. If it means getting a chance to end it all, to prevent the war to come knocking on our doorstep. I would gladly take on the beast for survival of our family.” – In that moment understood Anthony. With much pain in his heart, had it to be you. The memory drifted away like snippets of paint touching water.
Footsteps made you alert again. Bringing your riffle to the front, readied you, yourself. Squinting your eyes, spotted you from afar dark patterns against the green scenery. – “Incoming!” – shouted you loud, diving to a secure place. Sir Davis did the same. Rolling over to the other side. Hidden between the bushes, pulled you, your riffle up your shoulder. Closing one eye, focused you on the marching group. They were shouting as well in their language, sending out orders. Bullets were flying around your ears, making you duck down even deeper. You never had gotten used to those sounds. The thrilling sounds of war. Useless war against each other. Sir Davis lifted himself a bit up, firing at the opposite squad. You did as well, silencing your moral. Clearing your mind was the best way to fight this war.
If you stood long enough still to think about what you were doing, you were death. In more ways anyone could possibly think. You fired a shot, sending a soldier down. Ducking again, missed you the bullets firing above your head. – “Bridgerton!” – shouted Sir Davis at you. You got on your knees again, firing again. More men arrived as you felt cornered. Narrowed down. – “Sir Davis!” – yelled you out, getting his attention. He groaned, gritting his teeth. Firing again, send you another man down. Needing to reload, lay you down on the ground. Your coat catching up dirt. Men were falling down like birds, dropping to the ground. There was just one more left. One more man that stood between your survival.
You got up, aiming at him. He was aiming at you as well. You shot first, watching the body drop. – “Bridgerton!” – called Sir Davis out, making you turn sharply around. You had heard it as well. Sir Davis his gun had blocked, leaving him to struggle with it to fire. Standing face to face with the enemy that had snuck up from behind. You raised your riffle, just having to move the handle for another round. It had to be quickly as in a split second all could be done. Adrenaline was shooting through your body, gritting your teeth at the movement of your hand. A shot got fired. A breathless gasp left your mouth, leaving you to receive the impact.
Your arms slowly opening as you dropped to your knees. Your expression numb as the dark crimson red stained your shirt. Sir Davis was shouting as another shot got fired. With foggy eyes, saw you, your opponent fall back with such intensity it swooped him off his feet. Releasing a deep and long breath, rolled your eyes back. Any control you had over your body lost as it dropped to the ground with a loud thud. – “Bridgerton!” – Called Sir Davis out. He dived to his knees, rolling your body over to him. – “Stay with me.” – said he, tapping your cheek. – “Stay with me son.” – repeated he, pushing your cheek with his palm. Feeling a gurgle, coughed you out blood.
Sir Davis’s hand hovered over the red stains forming on your shirt. The red circle growing wider. – “Sir…” – whispered you out, finding some strength to speak. Sir Davis was afraid to look away from your wound. Afraid to look you in the eye. Even though your eyes were closed. You had not the strength to open them. Your body shuddered with every cough that brought along some blood. – “I’m sorry son… forgive me.” – said he, lowering his head. You knew you were not getting through this. Waiting for the dark shim to come and claim you. Sputtering out some blood, reached you for your inside pocket. Slowly opening your eyes, clutched you onto a piece of paper. – “Please…” – whispered you out, barely finding the strength to do so.
Sir Davis lifted his head up, seeing you slide a blood-stained folded paper to him. – “My mother…” – begged you, finding it harder to swallow. Sir Davis gripped onto the paper for you. – “I promise you son. I promise you.” – With some relief, dropped you, your head, eyes rolling back as you drew your last breath. Sir Davis lowered his head against your chest, sobbing loud. It took him a while, but he finished digging a grave for you. He knew he couldn’t take your body with him. Yet he wanted to give you a proper burial. Before he buried you, removed he something significant of you from your vest. To give your family recognition it was you that had passed. Fighting in honor of your country and for the crown.
Violet froze when she heard the knock on the door. Something was amiss, she had felt it all night. She waited curious in the hallway for the doorman to open the door. She tried to get a glimpse of who was at the door. A voice coming through. – “I have an urgent message for the Bridgerton family.” – Violet’s hand moved to her chest, clutching onto it. Anthony frowned, coming down the stairs. – “Mother?” – said he curious, laying his hand on her frozen body. She breathed again at the touch of her son. Anthony looked upon the door with a confused glance. He widened his eyes at the sight of a man in a uniform.
A uniform that hinted he was a general. He was allowed to enter, bowing before Anthony and Violet. – “I come baring news.” – said he respectfully. Violet wettened her lips, having a hint of what news he brought. It was not accustomed for generals to come bare news at the Homefront when their child was doing great. Anthony straightened his back, holding his hands firmly behind his back. He motioned to his study as he did not want to send the man to the parlor. Anthony was leading the general to his study when a curious Gregory came lurking from outside the parlor. Anthony hissed at him to get back.
The general staid up straight when Violet and Anthony stood near his desk. The general placed his hand against his chest. – “Second general Smith, under command of General Williams, Ninth division.” – introduced he himself. – “I apologize for bringing this news to you.” – started he, shuffling his hand into his inside pocket. Violet released a sobbing gasp at the state of the blooded paper he revealed. Anthony widened his eyes, snatching the paper from the general’s hand. – “I…” – the general turned to Violet, bowing deep to her. – “Your son fought proudly for his country and crown.” – Anthony inhaled sharp, seeing his mother collapse to the ground. She had fallen down, opening her mouth as no sounds came out.
Her voice caught in her throat. Anthony hurried to her side, taking her hand in his. She was rocking herself back and forth, her hand tight around her heart. One loud cry for help set her off. Her body trembling followed by a loud scream. Anthony felt the ground from underneath his feet, sending him under. He fell down on his bottom beside his mother, staring bewildered and lost in front of him. His hand trembled and shook with the blooded paper in it. – “I heard…” – called Benedict out, opening the door. Behind him was Daphne. They gasped at the display. Violet sobbing loud, crying for help as she bend down, her face near the ground. Her screams pierced through Anthony’s heart as it reminded him of the day his father died.
Benedict noticed the blooded paper in Anthony’s hand, sliding down the wall as his feet couldn’t carry him anymore. Moving the back of his head against the wall, told he himself not to cry. Daphne inhaled sharp at a sting of pain in her heart. – “I’m sorry for your lose.” – spoke the general before taking his leave. Benedict pulled his knees closer to his body, moving his hand through his hair. Sobbing loud, couldn’t he grasp that his brother was death. Gone. Daphne stumbled to the ground, feeling intense pain throughout her body. – “My baby!” – cried Violet out. – “My son!” – she felt as empty as the day she lost Edmund. Another piece of her family torn by death. She had fought away her terrors and nightmares for so long, she was at peace for a time. Now it hit her harder then before. Her own son. Lost in a more gruesome way then Edmund. Violet kept rocking herself, her hand clutched to her chest for if she wished really hard, you were perhaps laying in her arms. Her son, cradled against her chest, holding you one more time.
Anthony felt guilty. He let you leave. He was the one to agree with it. He send you off into the dangers. There was always a slight chance that you wouldn’t survive it, but now it had become a reality. – “It should’ve been me…” – confessed Benedict, wiping his tears away. – “It should’ve been…” – repeated he. – “Me!” – shouted he loud, balding his hands as he roared in terror. His entire body trembling with the intensity of his voice. His hands unfolded again, dropping lifeless next to his body, feeling dizzy. The door got opened again as the rest of the Bridgerton family entered. – “I saw a general, what happened?” – asked Colin, getting pushed aside by Eloise. Eloise took one glimpse of the room, hurrying back outside.
Her hand covering her mouth as she made it midway the hallway before stumbling to the ground. Francesca gasped loud, smacking her back against the door, staring lost at the ground. – “My baby…” – kept Violet crying out. Colin gasped, throwing his arms around Gregory and Hyacinth. He pulled them away from the room, hearing them cry. – “Is Y/n death?” – asked Hyacinth with teary eyes. Colin slowly nodded. Her lip trembling as she screamed it out, swaying her arms around. She broke free from Colin’s grip, running into the parlor to cry her heart out. Gregory stumbled a bit backwards, unsure how to react to the death of his older brother.
Daphne cried it out, moving over to her mother. She clutched onto her, hugging her as she needed comfort. Violet hugged her firmly back. Anthony dared to open the note, wondering what it said. He moved his hand to his trembling mouth, the paper shaking in his hands. It was the letter his mother send to you before your departure. You had been holding onto it for so long. Now covered in blood stains. A darkness fell over the Bridgerton house. Another young soul taken away too soon. You still had so much to do.
You still had to annoy Eloise with your brotherly jokes when she would participate in the social season. You still needed to see Daphne’s child. Tease your brothers till eternity. Bring your mother to shame by acting a bit reckless and teasing her. You still had so much to do in your life. – “Forgive me.” – said Anthony, his heart aching. Gregory stumbled in the room, coming to sit beside Anthony. Anthony threw an arm around him, bringing him closer. Gregory sniffed loud. – “I don’t know how to move on without him…” – said he, making Anthony rub his cheek against his hair. – “I know it is hard… but we will… Every day will feel like a challenge, but I assure you the pain will ease over time.”
“I don’t want it to ease…I don’t want to forget about Y/n, like I have forgotten about father.”
Summary: Emotions run high in the Bridgerton household with a wedding around the corner.
Daphne made her way across maidens that were running around the place. A kitchen maid came hurdling in with packs of flour under her arms. Daphne swiftly moved around her, avoiding a colliding with the flour. She went into a corridor finding her sister Hyacinth, dreamingly humming a song. Daphne exhaled deep, relieved to see her. – “I heard it was urgent!” – breathed Daphne out. Hyacinth stopped dancing around, gasping at the sight of her sister. – “Daphne! You are here!” – exclaimed she, taking her sisters hands in hers. – “Yes, I am.” – replied Daphne, touching Hyacinth’s cheek with her thumb. Daphne was about to speak when she heard loud rumbling, followed by a familiar voice. – “This is madness!” – called Benedict out, throwing his hands up.
His eyebrow quirked up at the sight of his sisters. Once he saw Daphne, stomped he over to her. – “You better fix this!” – pleaded he, almost begging her as it was getting to much for him. Daphne inhaled sharply, looking past her brother to the way he came from. Walking past him, went she on. Benedict let himself fall into one of the chairs, rubbing his eyes from exhaustion. Colin was pacing around, mumbling to himself, and scratching his hair. Not far from Colin, sat Gregory down on the ground with his hands in his hair. – “Oh, my…” – expressed Daphne at the state of her brothers. – “Where is mama?” – questioned she, walking up to Colin. – “Inside.” – pointed Colin out, hearing a moment later arguing from inside.
It made Gregory inhale sharply, widening his eyes more at the shouts. – “They’ve been at it almost all morning.” – confessed Colin. Daphne noticed the weary look on him, placing her hand on his shoulder. Daphne reached her hand out to the doorknob. A slight hesitation in her, not knowing what to find on the other side of the door. – “Don’t open it!” – called Francesca out, holding her hand out in an attempt to stop her. Her comment made Daphne turn around, bringing her hand closer to her body again. – “Oh, please do, Daphne.” – grinned Eloise, stepping beside Francesca, holding a box of chocolates in her hand. – “I have been dying to see another spectacle!” – She threw a chocolate in her mouth, pleasantly chewing on it. – “Benedict lasted exactly fifteen minutes in there.” – continued she with a smile on her face. – “He lasted longer than I would give him credit for.” – she snorted soft, finding herself amusing.
Francesca shook her head with a soft sigh. “It is your own life you are risking.” – With Eloise’s final words, dared Daphne to open the door. She swung the door open as the voices in argument got louder. Sweeping her off her feet. Through the opening of the door, saw she Anthony and mama argue loudly. Sucking it up, entered Daphne gracefully. She shut the door behind her. Eloise spurted to the door, wanting to listen in and peek through the keyhole. – “Don’t be absurd, Eloise.” – pitched Francesca in. Eloise shushed her, wanting to hear it all. – “I say she lasts twenty minutes inside.” – betted she against herself with a smirk on her face. Francesca sighed loud, scooting Eloise aside. She came kneeling beside her, wanting to hear as well. Daphne brought her hand to her mouth, seeing Anthony and mama argue fiercely.
It took them a second to acknowledge Daphne in the room. Anthony straightened his back, turning to his sister. – “You came.” – said he, his hands folded neatly behind his back. Daphne nodded as Violet stepped up to her. – “It’s wonderful to see you.” – she kissed Daphne on the cheek. – “Where is Y/n?” – questioned Daphne curious. – “Here!” – answered you, stepping from behind some panels that shielded you. You were far from fully dressed. Still needing to put on your mousseline dress. At the sight of you smiled Anthony. – “My sweet sister.” – said he, holding his hand out to you. With an extended hand, went you up to him. Placing your hand in his, sought you out help at Daphne. “Shouldn’t Y/n, be ready?” – spoke Daphne, poking at the argument again, unwillingly.
“She should be!” – insisted Violet, glaring at her eldest son. – “I already told you mother; I know what is best for Y/n!” – Violet laughed loud, finding her son amusing. Anthony clenched his jaw at his mothers humor. – “As her mother, I know what is best for her!” – spewed Violet right back at him. Daphne couldn’t quite follow what the argument was about. Anthony turned around, fetching a soft pink mousseline dress. – “Y/n looks radiant in soft pink!” – called he out loud. Violet waved her hand away, ridiculing his choice of dress. Violet took a hold of her own dress, showing Anthony a graceful white mousseline dress. – “White is the proper standard!” – replied she politely with a mockingly smile.
Pink!” – hissed Anthony out, shoving the dress closer to you. – “White!” – answered Violet, raising her voice to overpower his tone. – “Pink!” – repeated Anthony, practically, showcasing the dress against your figure. – “White!” – insisted Violet, presenting her dress over Anthony’s. – “Help me.” – said you to Daphne, who was still trying to process the bickering. – “White is a standard color for a wedding dress!” – spread Violet out loud. – “You know that!” Anthony gritted his teeth, tossing his dress over a chair. – “Fine! If you insist on white, we’ll have it your way, mother!” – responded he, sounding a bit belittling. Violet hummed victorious, handing you the white dress. – “Put this on darling.” – asked she with a sugary sweet smile. She pushed you back towards the panels as you disappeared behind it. – “I cannot believe you.” – said Daphne, shaking the shock off her. – “Both of you!” – corrected she herself, looking on each turn to them.
Anthony swallowed nervously, looking away. Violet started fumbling her dress, looking ashamed at the ground. – “Have any of you taken a true interest in Y/n? or are you only putting your own matters at hand?” – Daphne crossed her arms, shaking her head at her families behavior. Exhaling deep, understood she how frantically Benedict rushed out of the room. You cleared your throat, coming back in sight to present them with the white wedding dress. Immediately saw you a change in their expression. Violet gasped in delight, bringing her hands to her chest. Anthony was gaping at you, finding you suddenly more mature then you were to him. You opened your hands a bit, slowly stepping in a circle to present you fully to them. – “And?” – asked you, pressing your hands against your side.
Daphne took the word, walking up to you. – “As perfect as the day you were born.” – complimented she. It made you smile, hugging Daphne warmly. Anthony cleared his throat a bit, turning around to a table. There let he his fingers glide over some jewels. He smiled pleasingly at a ruby necklace. Carefully picking it up, returned he to you. He held it near your neck, smiling beyond himself. Violet rolled with her eyes, going over to the table as well. Anthony nodded intriguing at you, letting you know it was a good choice. Daphne had her doubts, tilting her head a bit to the side. Violet returned with a pearl necklace, smiling. She pushed Anthony’s hand down with her own, wanting her own display to be presented. She smiled at Daphne, trying to win her over with her choice. Anthony huffed loud, moving his choice of necklace above his mothers. – “Daphne!” – said he, wanting to have her on his side.
Violet shook her head, glaring at Anthony. – “Pearls, it brings out her eyes.” – sugar coated Violet. Anthony pushed her necklace away, holding the rubies up again. – “Rubies, bring the attention to her face.” – hissed Anthony out. Violet and Anthony were on the brink of bickering again as you could only stand there perfectly still. Not wanting to upset either one of them. – “Mama, Anthony please.” – begged Daphne, not wanting things to escalate again. “It is Y/n’s wedding day, please try to be reconsidering.” – begged she, folding her hands in a praying gesture. – “You are right.” – answered Anthony, turning towards you. – “Y/n, Rubies right!” – asked he with a smile that hinted more than a simple greeting. You swallowed nervously as mama also presented you the pearls.
“Listen to your dear mother. Take the pearls.” – she kept moving the pearls closer to you. Both of them kept insisting their own jewels at you. Waving your hand in front of you, felt you suddenly hot. Cramped, cornered. You didn’t want to disappoint any of them. – “Enough!” – called Daphne out loud, startling both of them. – “Can you not see how suffocating you are towards her!” – you breathed shakily, stumbling a bit back. Anthony and Violet were staring at you, focusing on you. – “Please…” – said you with a deep swallow. – “I…I… I can’t continue like this.” – confessed you, waving your hand for some cool. You felt like crying and running away at the same time. Just pull all those pins out of your hair and ugly cry your way out of this room. You never cared for appearances, all you wanted was for Tewkesbury to simply find you beautiful. Whatever the rest thought didn’t matter. – “I love both of you, I do… but please…” – you felt tears come up from how shaky your voice sounded.
Anthony took a step back, bowing to you. – “I am sorry sister.” – said he out loud, feeling suddenly ashamed of his behavior. Violet lowered the jewels in her hand, apologizing as well. – “Let us leave, allowing Y/n to continue to prepare. She has lost a lot of time.” – Daphne gestured to the door, wanting them both to leave. She opened her hand so that they could place the necklaces in hers. In silence left they the room. For a split second saw you the surprised expressions on your siblings faces. Daphne exhaled deep, feeling suddenly lighter. – “Thank you.” – said you, hugging her. Daphne pressed you close to her body. – “I didn’t know how much longer I would keep it together.” – breathed you out, squeezing her body. She giggled softly, questioning what the family would ever do without her. Clearly run around in chaos like headless chickens. – “Now prepare, your Viscount is waiting.” – whispered she. With a last goodbye kiss against your forehead, left she the room as well.
As a silence fell upon the room, needed you a moment to sit down. To give some peace to the swirling chaos in your head. In a few hours would you be a Viscountess. If you said yes of course. Why was this even a question, of course you were going to say yes to Tewkesbury. He was the love of your life. You didn’t want to spend another moment apart from him. The balls you went to with him were a delight but always had you to say goodbye when it ended. From the moment you met him, knew you, he was the one. That deep love, Daphne talked about so much. You shot up, hearing the door open. Thankfully it were just some maids, entering to assist you with the final touches. You choice a necklace for yourself as well as a diadem. Feeling truly ready, nodded you at the maid near the door to open it. The door opened slowly as you heard whispers slip through. They reached you ears, till they suddenly died out.
All eyes turning towards you in awe. Anthony was beyond himself, smiling proudly at you. Gregory poked Hyacinth in the side, squinting his eyes amusingly at you. Benedict and Colin slowly nodded approving. Eloise hated to admit it, but you looked more ready for marriage then she thought you would. Violet was the proudest of all, close to tears. Daphne pressed her lips together to let it sink in. Her sister, suddenly not so little anymore. Francesca was gaping at you, stunned by your beauty. – “Well.” – said you, wanting to get a reaction out of them. – “Beautiful, absolutely beautiful.” – said Colin as first, gleaming with pride. Benedict moved his hand to his mouth, suppressing a loud sob that he didn’t want to express. You smiled from ear to ear, walking out of the room, into the warm presence of your family.
Tewkesbury stood at the front. His eyes were glued onto the long path that would bring you to him. His eyes glided to the seats, seeing your family sit down with a smile on their faces. Exhaling deep, released he some nerves from his shoulders. All eyes turned to the back when Francesca appeared. Her pace slow and graceful as she stared smilingly in front of her. Near Tewkesbury, curtsied she. Tewkesbury bowed to her, before she took her place as your bridesmaid. It was time for you to appear. For you to show yourself and walk up to your husband to be. Music filled the church you were in. Feeling a bit nervous, took you a deep breath. – “I love you so much, Y/n.” – whispered Anthony to you, leaning a bit closer to you. – “It is an honor to give you away.” – he smiled, pressing a kiss against your cheek.
Smiling, allowed you Anthony to guide you down the aisle. At the sight of Tewkesbury, felt you tingly. He had a way of messing with your head, forgetting about your surroundings for a moment. Tewkesbury widened his eyes at the sight of you. His lovely bride. His Viscountess. Anthony moved in front of you, kissing your hand, before taking a seat next to his mother. Tewkesbury and you greeted each other. He with a bow, you with a curtsy. Taking his hand, walked you up the last few steps to be at his level. Your hand still in his, let he his thumb stroke yours. Glancing over your shoulder, saw you Francesca nod agreeingly. Staring intensely at each other, said you, your vows.
Swearing each other loyalty and care. The priest gestured with his hand, letting you know you could seal the marriage with a kiss. Tewkesbury took a step closer to you, bringing his hand up to your cheek. – “My Viscountess.” – whispered he underneath his breath. – “My Viscount.” – whispered you back. Your lips collided with his, having longed for them for so long. You can’t believe how many time has passed since you first met him. Everything you endure with him. The lonely nights, wishing for him to be near. The love letters. The passing glances. Stolen touches. No more hiding.
Tewkesbury and you were one now. Never to be apart. Bound to one another. You were his and he was yours. No one was going to take that away now. Finally married came all your dreams out. A life with Tewkesbury. Your gentleman that rescued you from a rebellious mission to a ribbon shop. That wasn’t afraid of your brother’s judgement. That defied every woman, just having eyes for you. You had to squeeze yourself to make it feel real. Taking his hand, turned you towards your family. Your family that you loved to the core. It would be a change, to not always be around. But you promised to barge in so many times, they might get tired of you.
ewkesbury brought your hand up, kissing the top of it. – “I love you Y/n.” – whispered he in your ear. You couldn’t suppress a smile, kissing his cheek. – “I love you too Tewkesbury. Now and forever.” – with the carriage ready, followed everyone you outside. Anthony couldn’t help himself but give some last brotherly warning to Tewkesbury. You heard snippets of it, containing something about him better never breaking your heart. You hugged your sisters, wishing them all well. Promising to be back soon. Your brothers had a hard time, watching you go, but with much pain in their heart, waved they you goodbye.
Wishing you much luck on the new chapter of your life. Begging you to not forget about them. You could never, but now it was time to focus on Tewkesbury for a while. The two of you got in the carriage, sharing another delightful kiss. With a new horizon set upon, road you off. Off towards your happily ever after.
+18 (sexual content, please do not read it if you are a minor)
summary:Lady [y/n] is promised to marry a French man, but she feels unprepared for her nuptial night.
notes:my first smut/sexual writing, so please be patient and leave a comment if you liked it! I’d really like to know!
words:+7.900
She shouldn’t be about to do what her heart desired — either way, there she was, grasping at her yellow and pink dress, stressing out her nerves with anxiety dripping from her face. Allowing one last glance around before coming into the Bridgerton mansion, [y/n] sighed, hoping one last deep breath would be enough to give her the right amount of courage she’d need.
The house was full, but not as full as it could be. In a corner next to the garden, sitting around a marble table filled with sweets and tea, Lady Bridgerton, Eloise, Anthony, Benedict, and Penelope could be found. That was more people than [y/n] meant to meet, but she supposed it could happen, being that the person she longed to talk to was a Bridgerton.
“Good afternoon, Lady Bridgerton, Lord Bridgerton,” [y/n] started to salute. “Benedict, Eloise and Penelope, pleased to see you all.”
They all smiled and replied, and Penelope dragged in closer against Eloise, offering the butler that accompanied [y/n] an empty space to place a chair. The visit couldn’t reckon whether she should be thankful for being placed closer to the person she wanted to talk to or not.
“What are you doing here today, dear?” asked Lady Bridgerton, with a motherly smile. Any other person in town asking that question would be considered rude, but since it was Violet, [y/n] had no thought of her being unmannered. “I thought you should be preparing for your wedding day.”
She should, by the way. Violet Bridgerton had a good point, but then what she was there to do could also be deemed as preparing for the ceremonial occasion.
“Or at least be preparing for tonight’s ball, huh?” added Penelope, noticing [y/n] had widened her eyes and seemed to be in a shocking state.
[y/n] smiled at the girl, what she supposed could be viewed as a “thank you”.
“I do have much preparing to do, for bothoccasions — that is correct.” She had no idea where she was going to end her sentence, “But I felt like stopping by to visit the family I love most in the world.”
Lady Bridgerton couldn’t help but tilt her head in a happy expression. She’d seen [y/n] grow up to be a beautiful lady, and in one day she’d be wed. Violet could only hope one day all of her children would’ve passed through the same process too.
“Lady [y/n] probably wants the girls’ opinions towards flowers and dresses,” suggested Benedict, speaking up. He couldn’t be farther from the truth, though. [y/n] wasn’t there for the girls, especially because Eloise was the only Bridgerton girl around, and she did not like wedding and party planning.
Lady [y/n] was there for Anthony Bridgerton.
For remarkably private and personal reasons.
“Oh, I suppose I could help as well,” said Lady Bridgeton, leaning in over the table. “I don’t suppose I’m overlyout of fashion.”
“Oh, Lady Bridgerton!” exclaimed both girls that were not Bridgerton. Eloise just looked bored.
The men looked rather lost in the conversation, and they seemed to be looking for an excuse to get out of there the moment the ladies started discussing garments for that evening’s ball. Unfortunately for the men, a servant appeared with a plate filled with cookies, and so they had to wait a little longer to get out.
“So, Lady [y/n],” started saying Eloise, but [y/n] interrupted her.
“Please, call me [y/n] only,” she said, “I suppose we are very much family by now.”
Eloise smiled and rephrased: “[y/n], will your husband-to-be make an appearance tonight at the ball?”
Penelope stared at [y/n], curious, too.
No, he wouldn’t be coming along, because he was going to be merely able to arrive in London onthe wedding day, more often than not just in time. None of the Bridgerton had met Lord Jean Blanc yet — and neither had Lady [y/n]. It was an arranged matrimony, a desire of a father that most longed for his only daughter not only to marry well but to marry a French gentleman, as it was his dying mother’s last wish. The old lady had a thing for the French, and she had planned her granddaughter’s whole life based on her own conception. Even though [y/n] had no recollection of the old woman whatsoever, her father did everything in his power for his mother’s wish to come true.
Lady [y/n] had never objected to espousing Lord Blanc, and she was very happy to accept a destiny chosen to her instead of one she’d have to make on her own. That was until last night, when her dear mother told her what to expect for the wedding night. Oh, [y/n] was not expecting that!
She knew a simple version of what her mother had told her — she would lay in bed with her lovely husband and, magically, she supposed, she would give birth to a baby nine months later. It was that, in a way, but, Lord, there was so much more!
And her mother, deciding upon doing differently from what was done to her very self, let [y/n] on everything. All the details and positions, and she even added the father’s own personal preferences, supposing it could be the same with Lord Blanc.
Needless to say, [y/n] did not sleep. She laid awake, turning around in bed, trying not to visualize the sexual positions, trying not to feel the pain beforehand. However, her eyes could not help but wonder how Lord Blanc would look like and if he would be hairless like her father (her mother’s words).
[y/n] was in despair. She couldn’t do those things with Jean, poor man. A maid added, before breakfast upon her questions, that the French were much more sexual beings than the British, and [y/n] could not allow herself embarrassment or pain. But how could she manage that? She was going to marry a sex machine, and she was a bloody virgin!
She knew, however, a man of gossip, and that the chitchat surrounding him suggested he was as sexual as a French man. [y/n] had only one choice: talk to Anthony Bridgerton.
They were friends. They were very, veryclose. Yes, when [y/n] got older, being a Lady didn’t allow her much fun as being a Lord allowed Anthony, but they still talked and confabbed together almost every ball. She could ask him those things, right?
I mean, it wasn’t very “ladylike” but [y/n] supposed the whole wedding night talk was not ladylike at all, but she had already heard it. She was already inthe conversation. The least she could do was ask lord Bridgerton a favour.
She tried to picture herself in front of a man she barely knew, naked with all her insecurities and stretch marks and having to do all the things her mother instructed her to do: open legs, spread arms and so on; but she just couldn’t. Saying it wasn’t the same as showing — but not in any universe would she ask her mother to show her how to… make babies.
So her only option was to find a man she trusted as deeply as herself, but much more experienced in lovemaking than herself.
“…had no idea what he could possibly be wanting of me…”
“Oh, Eloise, dear! He was courting you!”
“He was not!”
Eloise Bridgerton’s shout was the phrase capable of bringing Lady [y/n] back to reality. Her courage was totally fading as time passed. She looked around, noticing Anthony and Benedict were already up and about to be gone. [y/n] didn’t even notice when they excused themselves.
“Hm, I’m sorry, girls, Lady Bridgerton, but I do need to ask Lord Bridgerton something if you…”
Mama Bridgerton interrupted with a smile and a wave of a hand.
“No worries, go. I noticed you’re pensive,” she said. Lady [y/n] smiled, and with a bow, she walked away, jogging a little to catch up to Anthony.
The three left ladies exchanged glances, but Eloise was soon back talking about her last ball and the troublesome gentleman she had met. Pen and Violet kept a knowing look on their faces, as if they had tasted something in the air before anybody else.
“Benedict, huh, sorry, LordBenedict,” [y/n] said, rambling and gasping for air, “where can I find your older brother?”
Benedict grimaced but thought it was better to simply answer than to make conversation by correcting her and allowing her to call him just by his given name.
“He’s in his office, [y/n],” he said. “Want me to escort you?”
“No need,” she replied. “I am quite certain I know this house as well as my own.”
They both tilted their heads forward, a silent goodbye, and [y/n] kept walking towards Lord Bridgerton’s office. She knew he wasn’t living at that residence anymore, allowing his younger siblings and mom privacy — or better said, allowing himself some peace and quiet.
She knocked twice on the door, afraid her emotions were talking the best of her.
“Come on in,” said a deep voice from inside.
Lady [y/n] gasped for air, a deep breath and walked in.
“[y/n], hello,” said Anthony, looking up from his papers. “What can I help you with? Is my brother gone, and you require a chaperone to walk you back home?” he asked, getting up promptly.
They were friends, but as much as a female and a male could be friends in British society, therefore it was very rare when [y/n] needed to talk to Anthony in such private places and situations.
“Oh, no, milord, nothing of that source,” she replied, grasping her dress. “I simply, huh…”
Anthony waited as she tried finding the right words.
“I wanted to ask you for a favour.”
He only kept staring.
“Yes, a favour,” she repeated, mostly to herself, as if approving of the word. “I suppose by now you are the only one that can help me. My marriage is just around the corner.”
“Tomorrow, I know,” he said, because he did, indeed, know. It was marked on his notebook, it was all his mother could talk about. And even Colin, one of his younger brothers, had written about it in his last letter. Anthony had no idea why his family wanted so desperately to remind him that his best friend was getting married tomorrow — he had already bought two excellent presents in the name of the family.
“Do you need me for something concerning your matrimony?” he asked, noticing [y/n] had grown silent.
“Precisely,” she nodded.
“Is it borrowing a carriage? We do have fine ones,” he said. “Or do you need me to walk you down the aisle? Isn’t your father supposed to?” Anthony really didn’t want her to ask for him to walk her down the aisle. He wouldn’t be able to. He’d very much rather borrow the carriage.
It wasn’t like it would hurt him to do so if asked. He liked [y/n] extremely, which could be exactly the issue. They had grown up together, he thought that was the problem. He wouldn’t want his sisters to be married to someone he didn’t know, so why would he like it when it was happening to his very best friend?
Except when he thought about marrying his sisters, he wanted to vomit and die. Now, when he thought about marrying [y/n], his heart would hurt so badly as if it wanted to jump out of his chest and go right in her hand — because it was where it belonged.
But he always knew [y/n] wouldn’t marry him, so why, whydid it hurt?
“No, I don’t need you for any of those things, I’m afraid,” she said, bringing him back to the factual thing happening. She stared at his beautiful and oblivious eyes. She had to speak up. “Last night, my mama told me some things I should expect in my marriage…”
Anthony swallowed hard.
“… especially on my wedding night. I didn’t know — I don’t know — what to do about it, Anthony,” [y/n] stepped closer to him.
The viscount was finding it very difficult to breathe.
“I suppose a lady such as myself and a lord such as you should not be discussing what I’m about to say, but I… I have no one else, and I will not allow myself to walk in my nuptial night knowing nothing of what is about to happen.”
“Lady [y/n], are you… what are you asking of me?” Anthony managed to ask, gulping. He wasn’t always formal, and he didn’t call her lady when they were alone, but he just needed to put up some walls between them. Even if they were invisible because [y/n] just kept coming closer.
“I don’t want Lorde Jean Blanc to be the first man I lay in bed with. I want it to be you,” she said, all in one breath.
She grasped her dress again, and lowered her eyes to his hands, so she could not visualize what she predicted would be a disappointment on Anthony’s face. How could she? No lady would ask a gentleman to bed her. Oh, god, not ask. She had begged.
“I want it to be someone I know, and like, and trust. Because I can’t bear the idea of allowing my body for use of a French man I barely know and having to just sit still because I have no idea of what he is going to do!”
Anthony Bridgerton desperately wished he had been sitting before listening to Lady [y/n]’s declaration. Not of love. Of necessity. She needed him.
He supposed she didn’t understand what she was asking, but he did it for her. No lady walks in and promptly asks a man to bed her, not unless she sees it can be her last opportunity to do so. And even then, she must desperately desire the required man, otherwise, she wouldn’t do it.
Anthony knew quite a bit about women and their first times. He generally wasn’t up for it — the tenderness and the passion, the waiting — it all scared him very much, but there was nothing [y/n] could ask him with her hearty eyes that he wouldn’t say yes.
But how could he say yes now? How could he make love with the woman of his heart and then walk away to see her marrying someone else?
Anthony reached for her chin and leaned it up, so he could stare her dead in the eyes. She tried ducking once again, but he didn’t allow it.
“[y/n], have you ever even kissed a man before?”
She denied it with her head. “I haven’t met Lord Blanc in person yet, and I’ve always thought that being him the one I’m going to marry, it would be unfair to any other man.”
Anthony nodded.
He then held her chin tightly, firmly, and with his other hand, he grasped her waist, bringing her closer. It was simply natural to do what he did next.
His lips encountered hers, gently, almost like a singular touch of a gloved hand, just allowing Lady [y/n] the space she needed in case she wanted to press her hands to his chest and push him away. She ended up putting her hands there, but not to move him away — she just wanted to be firm, press herself against Anthony and notforce him away. He was much taller than she was, which gave her a certain instability in such feminine heels.
[y/n] never expected a first kiss to be so welcoming.
Anthony took advantage of the girl’s leaning towards him and took her by the neck, bringing her closer and closer and making her belong to him with a soft opening of his mouth and an exploration with his tongue. He entered her calmly, allowing her to savour the new sensation, and then he devoured her, tongue and lips, and tightened his grip on her arms, clutching her waist. He was marking her as his, for he knew, or at least assumed, that she would walk away altogether after that.
Neither of them had noticed time passing, minutes felt like seconds, and without [y/n] observation, she was leaned against the bookshelf Viscountess Bridgerton kept full of new books.
That was enough to light her up.
“Huh, Anthony…” she whispered, not noticing her voice would be different after minutes of kissing. “Should we be doing it here? In your mother’s home?”
Her words confused Anthony, and he was not up to letting go of kissing her neck. “Doing what?”
“Deflowering me,” she said, nonchalantly.
Anthony immediately stopped. His hands were still on her skirt, keeping one of her knees up and open for his touches, while his head, bent into the crook of her neck, found a way to face her. The word choice scared the hell out of him.
“I’m sorry, did I do something wrong? Should I not have asked?” she did not keep her questions to herself. “Were you in complete control while kissing me?”
He gulped.
“That was more than just kissing.” And he had, in fact, lost control back there, but he was not about to admit it.
“What would you have called it?”
“We canoodled with each other,” he said. “And I recall some social parcels of London calling it ‘make out’ but it seems unfit.”
“Why?” she asked, lowering her knee and adjusting her skirt.
“Because I didn’t makeyou. I destroyedyou.”
She was positive he was right. What she didn’t know was that she had destroyed him too.
He ran his fingers through his hair, waiting for her to disappear, regretful and resentful towards him, but she did none of the sorts.
“Do you have a mirror here?”
“What?”
“A mirror. A looking glass. Do you have it?”
Anthony held in the urge to smile. “No, I suppose not here.”
She pressed her lips together as if thinking what she could do. To save herself? Anthony thought, but did not ask. He so desperately wanted to ravish her right there and then. Maybe even deflowerher, as she put it, but then he would need a safer space than his office in his mother’s residence.
“Well, then you’ll have to be my looking glass. Step closer,” she demanded while combing her hair with her fingers, trying to pin the left out parts.
“How’s that going to work?”
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
Anthony gulped, getting suddenly nervous.
“With my appearance,” she added, noticing his jitteriness.
“You have, hm… you have something on the corner of your mouth,” he said, nervously.
“Where?” she tried to clean it, presuming it was her makeup blurred, but Anthony’s expression appeared to be that she wasn’t cleaning it at all.
He decided to clean it himself upon her request.
Terrible idea.
“Hm, [y/n],” he uttered.
“Yes, Anthony.”
“Why me? Why ask me to…?” he wasn’t able to say the words. “Are you sure of this?” he asked lastly, thinking that maybe he wouldn’t want to hear her saying she didn’t prefer him much more than he was her only option. Or it could’ve been Benedict, but Anthony was very glad she picked him.
She seemed to think before answering. “I picked you because it was only natural. And I am certain of this because I cannot face my husband unaware of what he’ll do to me.”
Anthony shook his head, still helping her adjust her visual aspect.
“Besides, I heard the French dislike oblivious and non-sexual girls.”
That was enough for Anthony.
“Then why, honestly, why are you marrying him?” Marry me! he wanted to add.
She shrugged. “Because he’s there. He wants me. Father sends him paintings of me all the time, and he still wants to marry me after seeing how I am. I know paintings are not the same, but well, people here in London are seeing me for who I am, and they are still not picking me.”
“Perhaps because they know you are engaged?” suggested Anthony, because that was his very reason.
“That’s not it. If they wanted to be with me, they would’ve come forward. An arranged betrothal with a French lord wouldn’t have stopped someone who truly desired me.”
“And would you have said yes?”
She did not answer that. She did not know.
If any other lord had come forward and asked her to be his wife, would she have gone against her father’s wishes and done it? Would she have done it if Colin for example asked for her hand in marriage?
No.
Regardless, if Anthony had proposed…
Anthony disliked the silence that echoed after his question, so he decided upon a lighter tone when he spoke again. “I will teach you if that’s what you truly desire. I’ll bed you, and I’ll be patient, and I’ll show you what a man like, but also teach you what you can like.”
She looked at his eyes, expectantly.
“But only if you ask me, only if you assure me that it is what you want,” he said. “Please only ask for it, however, if you truly want it and won’t regret it.”
“I won’t regret it.”
Anthony and [y/n] exchanged a look. They knew they were doomed, even though they didn’t want to admit it.
“Tonight then. When everyone’s at the ball, say you don’t wish to go because your wedding is coming, and you want to rest. I’ll send a carriage for you as soon as your mother and father have left your house.”
[y/n] gulped, suddenly anxious for more of those kisses, for more canoodling, as he had put it.
“I’ll be waiting,” she said. “Thank you, Anthony.”
He closed his eyes tightly, mashing them as if he wished he hadn’t heard her.
“Don’t thank me.”
Anthony Bridgerton was waiting for the most surprising guest of his life.
It wasn’t every day he would receive a lady friend in his small but only his house, but this one was a very special lady.
Actually, that night, she was no lady at all.
Lady [y/n] had picked the most sensual of her dresses, the one she only had worn once before. That was because when she did, Anthony almost passed out seeing her in a crowded ball and wearing that red tight thing that put all her natural beauties in place and upfront for any man to stare at. In fact, he had made sure she would only dance with him and her father that night because he decided no one else was allowed that privilege.
She decided it was only fit to wear it once again, for this time it was her ultimate goal to provoke Anthony.
Hah! She had always pondered over it, but never allowed herself to think too much because Anthony was not the man in her future. He still wasn’t, but it felt natural to close her eyes towards her future just for one night and enjoy having Anthony, being Anthony’s.
He was waiting for her in his empty house (he had dismissed the servants), holding a glass of wine in each hand. When she arrived, he offered her one, knowing it would help her nervousness. It was supposed to be helping him too, but as a man used to alcohol, he would need something much stronger.
“How are we going to do this?” she asked, feeling unquiet. The dress was affecting Anthony, she noticed it, but that simply wasn’t enough for her enquiring mind, who wanted to know every step of the way.
“Slowly,” he answered, drinking more wine. “Think of me as your husband after the wedding. How would you let the scene play?”
Oh, he liked to see her imagining him as her husband. After all, it was part of his little plan. He wanted to bed her, to love her for the whole night as long as she could, so she would be addicted and too scared to risk loving another man that can never be the same as Anthony.
“Well, not slowly,” she said. “I’m not a very patient girl.”
Anthony let his brows go up.
“So show me. I’m here to learn, too.”
Drinking in a quick sip of all the left wine in her glass, [y/n] got up and walked towards Anthony, only to sit down over his lap. That was the boost of courage Anthony needed, the confirmation that she was there as much as he was.
“Kiss me.”
And he obeyed.
They didn’t start out calmly, as the first kiss had been. [y/n] didn’t allow Anthony to be slow or tender. She didn’t want affection. She would soon be a wife, she hoped the affection would come with time, from her true husband. At that moment, she was a lover, a concubine, slipping away in the dead of night to find her great, seductive love.
And how big and seductive it was!
She could feel all his power through her dress and his clothing because the position made it all so easy. It was almost like the perfect fit. Anthony bit his lip, knowing he could very well hurt her if he did the wrong thing.
As they kissed, Anthony allowed her hands to explore him, get to know him, and she was grateful for the opportunity. He seized the instant and concentrated on undoing the beautiful hairstyle she wore, pulling out the bobby pins carefully so as not to hurt her and positioning them beside their abandoned wine glasses. Anthony enjoyed being able to see her hair completely down and was delighted to see that it was still the same beauty as when they were children.
Anthony wished he had the gift of painting that his brother Benedict had, so he could paint her in the dim candlelight of his living room, with her hair down and her dress falling apart on his lap. The skirt lifted, allowing for more friction, and her full breasts were desperate to pop out. God, he would burn that dress that night, for he would never consent her to wear it in the presence of the damn French lord.
Why didn’t she claim to be his, and they put an end to this farce? It was evident from the way she writhed in pleasure as he played with the skin of her leg that she was his. She was Anthony’s and would never be anyone else’s. Both came from good-class families, and Anthony was a viscount! A much better position than the Baron, and he was in London, where [y/n] would remain with her family. So why didn’t she confess everything?
He would make her concede.
Grabbing her hips, he rose with her clutched to his chest, and carried her upstairs to his room. He would need a bed to convince her.
He sprawled her out on his bed, happy with the image he saw. If he allowed himself to daydream, she could be there because she was his wife, ring and all.
“Anthony, tell me what to do.”
The words were intoxicating.
“Let your breasts come out. Let me see them. Play with them,” please, he wanted to add, but chose not to say. She was the one who should be begging tonight, not him.
She did as she was asked, carefully lowering the neckline of her dress and showing her breasts. Anthony let his head fall to the side in pleasure as a wave of heat washed over him. He well remembered the day he’d realized that Lady [y/n] had grown breasts. He was pretty sure the day got written down somewhere in his teenage writings. And now, seeing them in their full beauty, with no clothes to separate them, drove him insane.
Leaping over her on the bed, he lay his hand over hers on her right breast and stared at her left for just half a second before biting into her pert nipple.
She felt a surge of pleasure and squirmed, kicking off her shoes with only the rubbing of the edge of the wooden bed. Anthony was golden when he heard the clatter of shoes falling to the floor.
“Are you enjoying it?”
She didn’t answer, just squirmed once more.
“I need you to say it, love.”
“I am enjoying it,” she never admitted how much ‘love’ had affected her, even more than the tender touch of his on her breasts.
“Good, I’m enjoying it too,” he said, moving from one breast to the other. “I love how full they are.”
She moaned something he was unable to understand.
“Use your words, love.”
She bit her bottom lip, meeting his gaze. “I like that my bosoms please you.”
He smirked and pulled her by the arms so that she sat on the bed. She sat up, confused, and he got to his feet. “I want you not to be tense. I’m going to take my clothes off.”
“Want me to take mine off too?” she asked, tilting her head.
“No, I’ll do it,” he said, holding his pants by the waist belt. He hadn’t worn a suit since [y/n]’s arrival, but he still had his vest over his shirt. “I want you to watch me.”
And watched him, she did, completely fascinated by the view.
She was stunned to discover muscle under all the tailored clothing Anthony was always wearing, but that wasn’t all that left her with her mouth hanging open. When his underclothing fell to the floor, Anthony allowed her to see his long, hard cock. [y/n] looked down, imagining and remembering what she had under her skirt.
Her mother had informed her that his and hers would be different, but she never imagined that his would be so…big. That would never fit.
“What is it, love?” he asked, kneeling in front of her, positioning his chin in her lap. His eyes showed concern, and he was right to feel that way, thought [y/n], after all, he should have known he had an anomaly between his legs.
“It’s big,” she whispered.
He smiled with pleasure, holding back a laugh. “Yes, it is.”
“It’sverybig.”
He had to lower his face into her skirt, so she wouldn’t see him laughing. Of course, her reaction was to be expected, being a virgin, but, God, what wouldn’t he give her, so she could repeat that in front of his brothers. Or rather, all of London.
“You can take it,” he said when his laughter vanished. He rose again and asked for her hand. “Get up, let me undress you.”
She did as asked, and he went to see her buttons on the back, one by one. She felt his fingers play with her soft skin, and she felt exposed but in a good way. [y/n] had presumed she would feel ashamed, but she felt alive and hot.
“Are all men like that? Is Lord Blanc going to be as big as yours?”
Anthony snorted, and he stopped being careful and just tore the dress away.
“No, Blanc’s cock is not half as big as mine,” he supposed she couldn’t understand, not yet, how that was a bad thing for Lord Blanc.
Before she could comprehend, her dress was on the floor, all torn apart, thanks to the Viscount little jealous fit. Later she’d worry how could she leave the house with a rubbish gown, but at that very second, she only felt hot and alive and desirable. The dress had worked its magic on Anthony.
She was desperate to cover some part of her, knowing her two hands were not enough to cover it all. At least, the candlelight is not as bright as it could be, she thought, holding her belly.
Anthony noticed the sudden blush, and hurried to grasp her hands and let her body completely open to his view. “Don’t be ashamed,” he whispered, closer to her ear, “you are so very beautiful. The most gorgeous miss I have ever seen.”
[y/n] couldn’t help but blush again.
How long had she waited to hear a man, a proper man of London society, to say that to her? To compliment her naked body even though it was evident she was just another wallflower?
And to have Anthony to do so, oh my! The most handsome of the British men — she was more than sure now, that she could stare at him defenseless, with all his glory.
He held her left hand and squeezed it a little.
“Are you still sure of this?” he hated himself for asking, for if she answered no, he would die right there and then. His member was in so much bloody pain, throbbing non-stop with desire.
She nodded. “Yes, Anthony. I do, very much, want it.”
Now more than ever, she thought.
She could sense he was smiling in the dim light. “Come,” he whispered, taking her to bed once again, this time slowly, as if scared she could break when naked.
She laid, spread, and he, positioned on top, started kissing her, lips and neck, and his hands wandered all over her body. Her breast felt hurtful with his touch, but it was a different kind of pain because it emanated to the centre of her very core, and when Anthony fingers found her entrance, she let out a soft moan.
The Viscount couldn’t help but smirk, and while one hand stayed there, playing around her core, the other went to her face, as he played with her hair.
“Describe how you’re feeling,” he demanded.
“I can’t,” she said between groans, “I don’t know how.”
“Just tell me, love,” he kept demanding, “when I do this,” he said as he let his tip of the finger play with the mouth of her arousal, “what do you feel?”
She bit her lip. “Anticipation.”
“How so?”
“It feels good, but it also feels like there is more.”
Anthony smirk widened. “Do you want more?”
“Yes, milord,” she nodded, feeling a little pleasure when he started using two fingers to wander around. “Sorry, I meant Anthony.”
He stopped his fingers. “Keep the milord. I like it,” he said, coolly.
It was her chance to smile. She reached for his hand at her entrance and pulled it forward, with more of a firm grip.
“I like it when you call me love, as well,” she let out, feeling a sudden wave of blush.
With the help of her hand, Anthony allowed himself to get in more deeply, to really feel her, and when he played with her clit, he felt like he could die in peace.
“You are so wet for me, my love,” he whispered, desperately to taste her. He knew it could be weird for a first time, though, so he only kept playing with her clitoris, wondering about her taste as she moaned loudly.
Thank God they were alone.
“I feel… I feel like…”
“Like bursting?” Anthony suggested, looking forward to facing her as he knew she was about to come.
He teased and slither, and she just kept trembling and moaning, until a sudden wave of absolute pleasure took over her, and [y/n] like she was at Paradise, the rise of relaxation stronger than she ever felt.
“Anthony, that was…”
“I know,” he said, before pulling his fingers and finally allowing himself some taste of her, even though it was not how he planned. He wanted to really taste her, core and everything, but the wetness on his finger would have to be enough.
He let her breath hard for a whole minute, while he just kept teasing and kissing her belly, shoulders and sucking her finger — he found it a very nice thing to do.
“Is it now you are going to… penetrate me?”
My God, gasped Anthony Bridgerton, shocked Lady [y/n] had said those words. “I guess you did learn to use your words,” he whispered, playfully.
She blushed. “Well, the finger thing felt very, very good, but I’m quite sure it isn’t the thing that gets me pregnant.”
Anthony rose from her belly to kiss her lips. “You do know quite a lot, huh.”
“I did my reser…” but [y/n] never finished her sentence, for she remembered the consequences of making love. “Am I going to be pregnant with your baby?”
Oh, Anthony liked that idea. He kissed her again, again.
“Probably not,” he replied after a while.
“That is not very sure.”
“Nothing ever is,” he said, smirking.
She nudged his arm. “Anthony!”
“You came to me, love, what do you want me to do?”
“Not get me pregnant,” she replied.
“I can’t make promises,” he said, letting his smirk fade away, “but I’ll try my best.”
She breathed out, relieved.
“But, anyway, you are getting married tomorrow so… no one would figure it out,” he added, only to mess with her.
“I don’t know how Lord Blanc is. What if he’s your opposite? How am I expected to explain?”
“By marrying me,” he answered before he could hold his tongue. Lady [y/n] froze at his touch. “Don’t worry,” he quickly added, “you are not going to be pregnant on your first try.”
Noticing her brows were down again, Anthony took the opportunity to kiss her body once again, and she came alive at full speed. He touched her core.
“You are ready,” he said, and with the help of his elbows, he got a little up on her, only to adjust himself over her entrance.
She bit her lip, expecting, waiting. She needed that. Not only that, but she was desperate to know how it would feel to have all of him inside her. And he wasn’t strong enough to wait any longer.
Holding his tip with one hand and massaging her entrance with another, he said: “This might hurt a bit. But I’ll give you time to get used to it.”
Anthony allowed his member to slither in her core, and waited so she could feel more comfortable.
She held her breath when she felt the tip of him enter, but managed to settle down when she breathed again. Anthony let some more of him into her, and she sighed.
“Does it hurt?”
“I just need… I want a moment,” she said.
“Wait,” then he thrust deeper into her, startling her. She widened her eyes and grabbed him in his forearms, feeling a slight discomfort, like the pressure of something breaking. “You better get used to it now that I’m all inside you.”
And inside her, he was, because she could feel him through her pussy, something hard, nudging her. He held on tight, waiting for her to adjust. Meanwhile, Anthony avoided looking her in the eye, as it would be too much for him, and he imagined if he could get her pregnant.
He had never dreamed of having as many children as his parents had, but there, with his cock at the centre of her, he decided it wouldn’t be all bad to have eight children. Perhaps ten.
“Can you move?” she asked, in a whisper.
It caught Anthony by surprise. “I’m sorry?”
“Can you move… it? I feel like it would be better if you moved,” she said, blushing for having to explain her wishes.
“Of course I can move, love,” he smiled, and started the movement.
He delicately and caressing moved his member inside her, but she quickly grasped his back, bringing him closer and whispered “faster”. That was his favourite word in the whole world, for all he wanted to do was to thrust and throb with velocity as his member required.
Feasting, his hip movements allowed Lady [y/n] some absolute pleasure, way better than the fingers and the waiting. She moved with him, trying to bring him closer every time he pulled away.
[y/n] was euphoric and Anthony was flaming, both so caught up in the moment they didn’t even notice when they got very close to coming. He kept charging and she grasped him tighter.
“I’m feeling it again,” she whispered between a moan.
Taking advantage of her state, Anthony kept thrusting, but he added his finger at the tip of her clit, just to make things easier for her. “Then come, my love” he demanded, for he was not able to hold himself much longer.
“Oh, my…” she whispered before moaning, feeling the last string that fixed her on reality getting cut.
Anthony exploded not much after, remembering to pull out. He did not want to, he so very deeply wanted to plant his seed on her, to mark her as his by a definitive mean, but he couldn’t bear the thought of hurting her. If she wanted to be with him, she should do it because it’s her heart’s desire, not because of her uterus.
He laid right next to her, and she didn’t hesitate before coming closer and nestling on his bare chest. They were both out of breath and wet; Anthony could feel a drop of sweat running down his forehead, and [y/n] could feel the molasses on her legs and belly. But they weren’t disgusted — quite the opposite. Anthony felt that if he held her any longer, he would regain the energy to do it all over again soon.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, applying pressure to the lady’s forearm.
“Different,” she said, surprising him with her choice of word. “I think I must have even changed my appearance. How am I?” she asked, turning to face him.
“Beautiful,” he said. “Magnificent,” he continued. “You are marvelous.”
She felt herself blush and buried her face in the Viscount’s chest.
“You can’t tell me these things,” she sighed. “You’re going to spoil me.”
“So be it,” he replied, kissing her on the top of her head.
“Oh, Anthony,” she breathed, more regretfully this time, permitting herself to look at him. His eyes gleamed in the night, and she imagined hers did the same. “This was a mistake.”
Anthony froze beneath her. He was hearing the words he never wanted to hear, but she kept saying it, and he heard it all, for he wanted the explanation to be more than just denying his feelings.
“I believe… I don’t want to marry any French lord,” she proceeded. “I want… No, I can’t. But I don’t want Jean, that’s for sure, and now… I’m doomed. What a bad idea of mine to sleep with my best friend!”
Anthony felt the smile appearing on his face before he actually felt the pure happiness that came with her sentence. Did she realize she was making all his wishes come true?
“Then don’t marry him,” he whispered, kissing her cheek then her temple.
She stared at him, widening her eyes.
“Marry me, [y/n],” he whispered, closer to her ear. “Don’t leave me. Don’t leave this room.”
She couldn’t help the tears coming down.
“I love you, Anthony,” she whispered back. Those were his favourite words, he gasped, correcting his early thought. “But my father…”
“He can’t do anything if we get to marry before he finds out.”
“Anthony! You are a Viscount! You need to get married properly!”
Anthony sat on the bed, bringing her up with him, and squeezed her.
“[y/n], I love you with my very heart and soul. If you say you love me too and wish to have me forever, there is no one, God or mortal, that is going to stop me from making you mine,” he said, nonchalantly, so confident in himself. “I have always desired you, but never as strongly as now, and if you tell me it’s Jean Blanc you wish to marry, I’ll step away. You’ll never see me again.”
“I don’t…”
“But if you say it’s me you want,” he kept going, ignoring her attempt of interruption, “then I am yours, [y/n]. And you are mine, and I’ll make you a Bridgerton by law, as I’m pretty sure you already are one by heart.”
She smiled, genuinely smiled, feeling she was the most beautiful of the human beings and the most enviable, for sure.
“I want you, Anthony Bridgerton, and I want you to make me Mrs. Anthony Bridgerton, for I’m sure to be the happiest of the ladies next to you,” she said, making him kiss her desperately.
They laid in bed again, caught up in kisses and canoodles.
“Now, what do we do?”
“Leave that to me,” said Anthony, before kissing her again.
Anthony’s plan worked.
Well, of course, it did. He had an infallible tactic, and the whole of London was cheering for him and [y/n] to eventually get married.
The morning after they had sex for the very first time — and second and third, for Anthony Bridgerton was exquisite to know he was going to marry his best friend — he went straight to his mother’s house. He left [y/n] at his.
“Mother, I might have impregnated Lady [y/n] [y/l/n].”
That was a very powerful and enough sentence on its own. Lady Bridgerton almost fainted, but recomposed herself, sparkling with joy, for she had planned to see those two together their entire lives.
She excused herself and went to [y/n]’s family home. It was Violet who arranged everything, in a lighter tone than Anthony ever could, even though he was right next to her when she spoke. [y/n]’s mother started jumping and clapping around, filled with happiness. [y/n]’s father was not even a bit happy, but after a long conversation, he realized there was nothing he could do but to give Anthony’s [y/n]’s hand in marriage.
And so, the French lord got excused to go back to his country before he even arrived in London, and the party planned to happen in the afternoon went on. But this time, it was Anthony the man at the altar.
[y/n] was so happy she couldn’t believe it, and she liked to have seen Anthony taking charge of making them official. When it was announced they were husband and wife, [y/n] jumped over Anthony to kiss him as a lady should never in the presence of her family and in a church, but she did not care, for she had just married her best friend and the love of her life.
“I love you, Anthony.”
“I love you too,” he replied as they sat together at the wedding reception.
“What happens now?” she asked, curious and anxious as she has ever been.
“I shall take care of you, as I always have, but this time I can burn all of your dresses that I don’t approve of, and I shall buy you new ones that will cover you whole, for I’m the only one that can see your wonders now,” he said, making her laugh.
“And I shall keep all of those uneducated ladies away from my Lord, forever,” she said, and he kissed her cheek, unable to hold in his touches.
“You hold that in for very long, huh?”
“Very long indeed,” she said, smirking, for she was not thinking about herself but about him.
“Do you remember what you asked me yesterday afternoon?”
It sure felt like an eternity ago, but she remembered.
kate and anthony meet at the conservatory ball, but with a twist: it’s a masquerade ball, and at least one of them will be left unmasked by the end.
He doesn’t know how he ended up here, in this ridiculous mask, making ridiculous small talk with every young lady of the ton. But after hours of being trod on, and simpered at, and bored into near tears, Anthony can be certain of this:
If he dances one more dance tonight, there is a slight chance he will not live to see morning.
No sooner had his mother announced to the ton his intention to find a wife this season than he’d been surrounded from all sides by eligible misses and their mamas. Shoving their dance cards at his person, making empty inquiries after his family as he turned each of them about on his arm.
The masks have been both a blessing and a curse, shielding any slip in his expression while also making it rather difficult to recall which of them he’s already danced with.
When a young miss who’s just stepped on his foot turns out to be the same young miss who’d stepped on his foot not three dances ago as well, Anthony excuses himself.
He can feel his mother’s gaze on him – no mask could hide that – as he slips behind a column of ivy, heading for the back gardens. He tells himself he won’t be long.
He knows his duty. He will not let her down.
But first, he needs some air.
He steps out onto the terrace, releases a button from his waistcoat, and breathes.
It is a clear night, and the air is both crisp and soothing. The terrace is empty – he’d narrowly missed Fife and the others – and he walks the length of it, grateful for the short reprieve. He wonders, idly, if he should join the other men in the smoke room, but the prospect of what talk would ensue only exhausts him; and besides, the air out here is more refreshing, its fragrance clean and sweet. Lilies, he thinks, though he sees none around him.
And then he hears a sound from the bushes, a jangle of metal – some gardening tools being upturned, perhaps – before everything is quiet again.
Too quiet, even.
She is in a powder blue gown, inlaid with some sort of material that seems to catch all the light as she turns. Her dark hair is offset by a jeweled tiara that is as pretty as it is understated. Her mask covers most of her face, but there can be no mistaking those large eyes, the shapely contours of her jaw.
He looks at her, and feels a smile growing.
“Pardon me, my lord,” she says, her tone cordial but brisk; she gives no indication of having recognized him. “You looked lost in thought, and I did not wish to disturb you with my presence.”
He cocks his head, amused. “What makes you think your presence would disturb me?”
“For much the same reason as anyone else would upon seeking solace out here, I suppose.” The woman spreads her gloved hands about them, and he is struck by both the command in the gesture as well as the grace with which she’s executed it.
Anthony gives a polite nod of understanding. “You speak as one who seeks this same solace.”
“I do,” she allows. “I am.”
“Then,” he continues, letting a hint of something teasing into his tone now, “you are, in actuality, saying it is my presence that is found to be lacking.”
“I—” She stops, then smiles as if in spite of herself. It is a beautiful smile. “I suppose you have me there.”
Funny, that. Anthony is starting to think he would quite like to have her, indeed. Out loud, he says only, “And what could a young miss such as yourself wish to find some peace and quiet from this evening?” He offers her a wry sort of smile in return. “Surely not the delightful rigmarole of courtship that awaits therein?”
“One could say that,” she replies after a brief moment’s pause. “And you as well?”
So she had missed his dear mother’s announcement, then. That she does not even know who he is, much less his plans to wed this season—
It is refreshing, to say the least. Liberating, even.
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: You are one of Daphne’s oldest friends, which means you are close with the other Bridgerton’s as well. Being in love with the Eldest Bridgerton, Anthony is practically torture. You always thought he didn’t think of you as more than a friend - like a sister almost. Until…..
Rating: (M+, Slow Burn)
Author’s Note: Sorry about the tagging! I am just finding it to be a little overwhelming (I am an anxious person, fun fact. haha.) But I do hope you all enjoy this part - I actually had to split it up a bit because I could just not stop writing.. anyway. Thank you for reading and enjoy! I appreciate all of you - you can now find this series under the masterlist and I will tag as “man of honor series”
You two would meet for the first time at one of the Queen’s balls
Benedict had not been eager to go to such a social event, where Ladies and Bachelors would be exchanging heated looks through all the time, burning with want to marry and share fortunes in the future
Encouraged by his mother, though, he had gone, and when he saw you the night was suddenly worth it
You stood out from everyone else, beautiful in your clothes and looking around like you wanted nothing more than to leave that place at once
Benedict surprised even himself at how fast he decided to approach you, two drinks in his hand, from which he offered you one and you smiling, accepted it
You talked for a while, he found out you were to be married in that season, having come to age and due to your mother’s insistence for you to find yourself in a good marriage, that would bring wealth and fortune to your family
The way you spoke, respectfully and yet comfortably, like he was one of your oldest friends, made Benedict notice that you were a beautiful person not only because of your appearance, but because of your intriguing spirit as well
During that ball, having stepped away after being requested by his older brother, Benedict watched you being courted by a lot of Lords, almost as much as his sister, Daphne, was being
He noticed your hesitation while you spoke with those men, courtesy that did not have much confidence, the way your eyes did not meet theirs for too long before searching the room and eventually, fell upon himself
You were looking for him, and that was the happiest surprise he could have
Two others balls happened, ones he was looking forward to (which did not escape his mother’s surprise and suspicion)
On both of those balls, the events of the one where you had met repeated themselves, with you both talking with smiles on your faces and then, he seeing you being courted and again, looking for him
So right then and there, he decided he would court you
He would very, very much like to marry you before some other Lord did
Benedict would first tell his mother and Anthony about his intentions, making it very clear that he had deep, strong feelings for you and you apparently, felt the same for him
Seeing no reason to be against such union, they both supported his actions
When you met again afterwards, he told about that he wished to court you, and asked how you would feel about that
And after you smiled in both shock and happiness and said you were amazingly flattered and pleased, Benedict had no doubt he had made the right decision
You two would marry, and he ha no doubt he would be incredibly happy
Summary: After marrying one of the sons of a man your father owes money to, you find yourself finally falling for him nearly a year into your marriage. That is until there is news of a toll to your marriage that might not be salvageable.
Word Count: 2,424 Words
Author’s Note: arranged marriage, notes of women as property, spousal cheating (which unfortunately was not uncommon and rapidly forgiven for men of status)
It’d been nearly a year since you’d legally became Mrs. Bridgerton. The name felt stolen to you, merely because you didn’t know your husband. It had been a wedding of necessity. Your father owed the late Lord Bridgerton a large sum of money and Anthony - as the acting Lord - determined a marriage between you and the next eligible bachelor of the family (Benedict) would be suitable to forgive the large sum that was owed to them. Not that you had a dowry. Nor any of your own wealth to offer.
The day of your wedding, Benedict had tried to act excited, likely for your sake. He knew that this was not what you nor what most women, would expect of their lives, but your father’s missteps in his finances, you were left with no choice.
You certainly could do worse for a husband. He was kind, charming and generally good conversation, when you did see one another. You found it easier to stay in your own quarters, apart from each other and out of the way. The only time you joined together was at mealtimes, but even then there would be nights where Benedict would request meals to his studio.
Visits to his studio on your behalf were infrequent. You did not wish to disturb the peace he’d made there, that would be unfair. It was the equivalent to him pestering you in the gardens or the drawing room when you sat with needlework or a sewing project. Most times the result of your work would end up in the hands of others as gifts. In fact you’d just finished an outfit for the Duchess’ son. That had been a tolling task. To part with the piece you’d grown to love and daydream upon.
You’d made the mistake of picturing yourself with a tot of your own in the get up, with another on the way. A mother. A role in this house outside of being a resident of it. There was very little hope for such a future. Benedict never looked at you in that manner, and you were certain that would not be changing anytime soon.
Though there were days were you were happily proven wrong. One afternoon your husband had invited you to the theater, getting the two of you out of the house. This would become a weekly occurrence, seeing the show and discussing the plot and your own views on it. Many others did not sit and take in the acting performance, but that was not you and Benedict. It was the one thing that seemed to join you - aside from a legally binding contract.
That led to happier dinners, invitations to walk the gardens, friendly competitions of pall mall, and evenings were Benedict would sit with you and read your stories to you.
It felt as though you were finally getting close. You sought out his company more and more frequently, finding yourself lingering in his presence probably longer than he’d like. Though, your husband was a gentleman and never said anything of the matter. You’d begun to see the way his face would scrunch up when he was entertained, as well as relishing in his laughter. Recently, you would actively seek out a session with him and find he was not even home. These occurrences were odd to you, but you thought nothing of it. After all, what were you to say? That he was to stay home more often, despite neither of you having any intentions of engaging in the act that you both participated in? No, that would be futile and rather indignant towards the matter.
It wasn’t until a ball was held at Hastings House, where you and your husband were expected to appear that you made a shocking realization. Benedict had been in the middle of a conversation with his youngest brother, engaging in play that Violet was sure to dismiss the minute she witnessed it. As he chased his brother around you felt your heart flutter. Your view of the man changed in a few blinks. A man you’d never recognized, never cared for more than one cares for a friend, suddenly meant everything to you.
You’d not confessed this to a single proprietor of the Bridgerton name. It was tucked away in some part of you, hidden and out of sight. You wouldn’t dare admit that when you know your husband did not share a single part of the emotion.
Tea the next day felt like a walk of shame to you. Not that anyone knew this secret you were harboring, but you were walking on metaphorical hot coals around the crowds of ladies. As though you would shatter like porcelain if you were to speak.
It did not take you long to notice the looks, the cautious and whispered conversations in the groups around you. Violet, Eloise and Francesca sat with your usual group, the eldest woman on the chaises looks at Violet. A shocked expression as she swats her fan at the woman’s hand as the Viscountess moves for a finger sandwich. “How is it that you believe there is time for such leisuring when your son is introducing slander to your family name?” The matriarch gasps in shock, shaking her head.
“Veronica, what everare you speaking about?” The room settles at Violet’s abrupt words.
“Have you not read the latest Whistledown? Might someone please lend their copy to Lady Bridgerton?” Soon, dozens of hands shoot out towards you and your family, each of you taking your respective copy.
My Dearest Reader,
It appears as though the noble Bridgerton family is involved in yet another scandal. Now, as many of you are aware, the name has been heavily printed on my pages as of late, and it seems as though it has yet to cease.
Upon the previous eve that I write this, Benedict Bridgerton was caught at the Granville house in the most precarious of situations. One that no married man would hope to be caught in. At least not with a woman that is not his wife.
The pamphlet falls from your hands and to the floor below you. There is no time between finishing the sentence and your swift departure from Mrs. Veronica’s sitting room.
In short time, you’ve made it from the home, your lungs frozen and your feet carrying you faster than your mind might let you guide them. You’re unsure of where you are going. No where. Anywhere. Anywhere that was far, far from here.
You find yourself at the Bridgerton home, in search of your carriageman. Instead, you spot your very husband with his brother out in the yard, fencing. Colin greets you with a grin. “Mrs. Bridgerton! Are you coming to join our company?” It was not the question that forces the tears from your eyes. Witnessing them, Colin pulls his foil from the air, the elder of the two men mimicking the same actions - dropping his own instead in a clatter of metal as it hits the grass.
“My wife, what’s wrong? Are you alright?” He approaches and you take a step back, your hand up in a flat manner.
“Take your leave. Or myself. I do not care in which manner it is, but you are notto be in my presence.” Your voice shakes with each syllable that passes through quivering lips. Benedict falters. He stands, looking at you with such deep sympathy that you wonder if he recognizes the error that’s been unveiled. As you turn toward the house again, your given name leaves his lips, chasing after you as you spot your coachman. Focusing on him as Benedict speaks, you ask him to bring the carriage around. You hear your husband’s voice drone on and turn away from him as he rattles on.
“I did not realize that my actions had consequences. Please, lend me your ear.” He catches you in your stride, his gloved hand in the crook of your elbow, leading you to freeze to listen to him. “My friend, I thought that we were in mutual agreement that if we were not finding what we required in one another that we might seek other arrangements-” You sharply turn to face him.
“My friend?! Is that what you wish to call me? How dare you insinuate such a thing!” Sheer venom seeps from you as you take a step towards him. “I am not your acquaintance. Nor am I your friend. Not your neighbor, not your partner, not your staff or employee.I am your wife, Benedict!!Contentment aside you have a dutyto uphold when you wed someone! Love match or not you are meant to protect, that person. Not be the reason they are in sheer agony!”The sound of your voice rattles the chandelier above you in the foyer entry, walls seeming to quake in fear at your anger.
“I was just trying to-”
“Quite frankly, I do not care what it was that you were attempting to do.” Huffing as you finally catch your breath. As a pause comes to the active deliberations, Violet comes into the house, her breath heavy, clearly having been chasing after you, Eloise and Francesca just behind her.
“Benedict. Do not disappoint me and say that the accusations that were suggested by Lady Whistledown are founded in truth.”Her tone is filled with warnings, yet Benedict avoids her eyes, looking to his brother behind him before turning back to you.
“We are able to move past this, I am sure of it. What Lady Whistledown writes-” You’re cutting off your husband once more - if you can even stand to call him that now.
“What she writes is always deemed as law. You certainly know this.” You hiss, with a fury unknown to most women. At least not one that is presented publicly. Finally, Benedict is firing his own shots towards you.
“Like there are any consequences! Shall I inform my mother of the realities that we face behind closed doors? How we have not shared a bed and still have yet to do so? How we barely spend time in one another’s presence? Do not pretend that we are exactly enamoured with one another, dear.”The emotion that is painted on his face shows all that your family needs to see. Poor Violet looks as though she might faint, Colin moves to her side to prepare for the worst case, that she actually does. “I am tiredof pretending. Saving face and dealing with the actions that my brother played for me.” He slumps in his composure, your face giving a hopeless laugh.
“I am aware that you are tired, Benedict. I myself am exhausted from the act we have been in.” Your eyes fall to the floor, tears free falling onto marble. “I would move to bet that she gives you the most joyous feeling. That she makes you feel free from the burdens that the ring on your finger ties you to. She probably makes your stomach do somersaults.” You watch as the emotion in Ben’s face moves from annoyance and exhaustion to confusion and concern.
“My wife…” He speaks cautiously, paired with a step towards you. Your head shoots up in a defensive manner.
“Mayhaps I were a fool to believe that there was a way for you to feel that for me. So do as you please, Benedict. See her as oftenas you like. And think of me fondly, when your hands are on her. I hope you’re happy. Because I certainly am not. Not when the man I thought I came to love was hiding away from me, just when I thought things were looking up.” With your peace spoken, you turn on your heels, looking to the doorway, over the group huddled there. Violet is trying to offer you words of comfort, Eloise gripping your arm. Instead you’re pulling from her grasp, hot tears on your face as you see the carriage finally arrive.
Your name echoes through the foyer and out the front door. Over the marble steps leading up to the house. You’re mere steps from the door, watching as the coachman opens the cabin before arms are wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you to a firm chest, one that moves with rapid breaths in pairing with his jog he’d lept into after you. It is not until he’s pulled you to him, in a tight embrace that you finally begin to fall apart. Sobs begin to leave you as you feel his head dip to your shoulder, adjusting his grip on you as words are mumbled. You cannot register them from over the tangled web of emotions and jagged breaths of air being hauled into your lungs. Eventually, there are some words that sneak through the cries. “Please. Let it be known it was not your fault. I swear to the Heavens that my intentions were not of malice toward you. Had I known-” You’re breaking from his grip slightly, arms still encasing you in a small circle as he tries to keep you close. Your eyes lock on his with contempt.
“Had you known?? How were you to? You spent countless hours in your study, the stables, somewhere to get away from me!” A fist is lightly coming to meet the edge of his shoulder.
“Because I thought you wanted nothing to do with me. There’d been no lead up to our nuptials. Your father owed my own, rest his soul, and in an attempt to relieve him of the debts he still had remaining, Anthony thought it best to bring you to us. He thought I would be able to care for you, to provide a life for you. Anything you could want.” A comforting hand comes to the side of your head, looking to you with great care. “That is all I was looking to do. To make you happy. If that were away from me, on your own terms, I wanted you to have that. “
“If it is my happiness that you are after, why have you never bothered to ask me what it is I want?”
“What do you want, Mrs. Bridgerton?” He looks at you so carefully, voice no heavier than the breeze that surrounds the two of you.
“What if it was you that I wanted?” You ask so quietly, tears still falling. He reaches up to wipe at them, spare handkerchief in hand.
Summary: (Requested) the reader is super clumsy and Benedict is always there to take care of her (he would hold her when she’s about to trip and maybe wipe off something that’s on hand he always thought he sees her only as his little sister. but when he sees her with another man, who is just as considerate with her as he is, he’s afraid that he would lose her forever.
Word Count: 2,333 Words
Author’s Note: I have not written out requests in agessss so I do hope this is what you were hoping for! Enjoy!
As the neighbor of the esteemed Bridgerton family in their London home, it was natural for the Savoy and Bridgerton homes to feel one in the same. With shared walkways and shared walls, the families grew close knit over the course of time. The Savoy family consisted of five children, a small number when compared to the Bridgerton eight. The eldest was Henry, then, yourself, next was Primrose, followed by the twins Everett and Josephine.
Everyone got along swimmingly, your mothers being some of the closest of friends and many of the children from the other household had come to feel as though they were an extension of your own family.
In one of many evenings spent together as families, you found yourself lingering with the sibling most closely in age to yourself, Benedict. The two of you had just under a year in age difference, which meant one of you had followed the other in milestones and footsteps rather closely. That did change as you aged however, what hadn’t was your friendship to one another.
The group was settling down for dinner, the rampant amount of laughter in the drawing room from the twins and Hyacinth and Gregory, the chastising of mothers shortly following them. The two of you had snuck away into one of the other rooms of the house, one that was not used nearly as frequently. The library had been sort of a hide out for the two of you, where you would play make believe and demand that Benedict act as your Vicount, you his Viscountess. Shelves collected memories alongside books, and the two of you lingered in that as you pull a book from it’s home. “It feels as though it were just yesterday that you and I would hide under the desks as though they were caves, using the lounges as ships.” You speak with amusement, fingers paging through the papers bound in the book in your hand.
“It truly does, doesn’t it? It’s unfortunate that our time in leading strings was over so quickly.” Benedict sits on one of the aforementioned chaise lounges, lighting a cigarette. You catch him from the corner of your eye and laugh softly.
“Are you attemptingto scent my home with tobacco perfumes?” You scold, quickly shutting the book in an effort to show haste. Instead, your finger catches on the edge of one of the papers, slicing your finger slightly. A light cry and you’re shaking your hand and dropping the book to the floor. As you inspect your own hand, Benedict is readily at your side.
“Well, now what have you done?” He teases with a grin as you look up at him, cigarette extinguished in a nearby ashtray - thanks to your father’s own filthy habit - as he pulls a handkerchief from his pocket, easily pressing the fabric to the crimson line on your finger, his hand taking your own delicately.
“Might I have not been otherwise engaged perhaps I would’ve been more cautious.” You retort with a knowing smirk. This was not a new incident. Benedict’s handkerchiefs made plenty of appearances in an effort to undo the woes of your clumsiness. Bruised palms of hands from rug burns, spilled tea on dresses, once had been mud upon your gloves. He was always looking out for you, and you showed your appreciation by personally washing and pressing each handkerchief you’d stolen from him before it’s ample return. You look to him with a smile of appreciation, one of his own reflecting yours before your names echo in the hall in calling for dinner.
Sitting next to one another, your families engage in conversation upon the ongoing social season - one that had been stressing both you and Daphne to the very edge. The two of you had spoken at great length of her claim as the diamond of the season and the Duke’s sudden return. You’d also discussed the many suitable men that had called for you in the previous days - a conversation that Benedict never seemed to be concerned with.
“Why is it that your boys have yet to find interest in the social season, Violet?” Your father speaks up, leaving you to glance at your friend, seeing his face shy from your eyesight.
“Well, Anthony has been rather occupied overseeing the many callers that Daphne has received. Benedict has offered his assistance as well.” You can hear Prim snicker with Eloise as both of them were well acquainted in the time the second woman’s brothers spent outside of public events. Despite that you mentally dismiss them as Violet speaks. “Dear, have you had any delightful conversations with suitors?” You clear your throat and look to the woman who was like a second mother to you.
“Not any that particularly stand out. I am sure the doors of Bridgerton House have been rather busy with Daphne’s line of bachelors.” You nudge the young woman’s elbow, smiling at your friend as you hear Anthony’s struggle to clear his throat.
Conversation carries on into the dessert course, where Benedict seems to find amusement in something on your features. Setting down your napkin you look at him with matched laughter. “Whatever is it now?” With a snicker he’s picking up your abandoned napkin, reaching up and carefully wiping your upper lip.
“You’ve chocolate all along your face as though you were growing a mustache.” You simply laugh at the image that forms in your head, the two of you giggling as you give a brief thank you. It is then that your mother speaks again.
“Benedict, darling, will you be accompanying Daphne to Madame Willard’s ball tomorrow evening?” The gentleman looks passed you with a lingering smile before clearing his throat.
“Yes, Mrs. Savoy, I do believe your eldest daughter and my sister are rather excited to be in attendance.” Soon after his words, Daphne juts into discussion about her gown for the evening, a bright smile on Violet’s face at her daughter’s excitement.
It is not long after that the families begin to separate for the evening. You stand on the porch step, speaking with Colin about his plans for travel that he has yet to falter on come the end of the social season in June. Benedict distracts your attention from his brother with a grin. “I believe that we shall meet again tomorrow evening at the Willard home?” He suggests and you smile with a nod.
“That we shall, Mr Bridgerton.” Violet calls out to you and you move to wave to her before you lose your balance on the edge of the stoop, Benedict quickly maneuvering to catch you, leaving you both in a fit of laughs as he stands you upright.
“If you can manage to survive the day without another incident.” He taunts once more before taking quick steps down the steps.
“Goodnight Benedict.” You say it with a songlike tune as you wave him and his family to their home nextdoor, all of you retiring for the evening.
It is the next evening that you do see him again. For the first interaction between you it is brief, pleasantries are exchanged before suitors ask to fill your dance card. Swiftly distracted with conversation, Benedict himself is tasked with watching over his sister and her own line of men.
Later in the evening he finds his eye drifting. Instead of a watchful gaze upon Daphne who seems to be struggling with some of her prospects, he finds you in his line of sight. You’re posed with a man, dancing on the floor rather cautiously, apologizing profusely for stepping on his foot. Despite it, the two of you seem to be swelling with laughter. As the dance slows, he sees just out of sight, the man reaching and moving a stray bit of hair out of your face, his eyes set upon you in a strange manner.
Within moments, Benedict is able to identify the feeling that flows through him as strong as the Thames current does. It is heavy fear. Fear that you are starting off a different path. One that would leave the two of you ostracized from one another until fate stepped in once again. The moment there was a proposal on your doorstep would be the moment he would lose you forever. Unless he does something drastic.
He can hear his name be called from his mother, faintly over the noise of the crowd surrounding him. In very few steps, he’s approaching the two of you just as the song changes, leaving you to step away from the young man, only for Benedict to swoop into his place. Shock fills your features as his hand grips to yours, another firmly on your waist. “And might I ask what you are doing? My dance card is full and you are not honoring it.” You speak firmly, looking at him with slight contempt.
“I needed a moment to speak with you.” He rationalizes, only before you try to pull away.
“We’ll have words later on Ben, this is really important-“
“So is this.” It’s filled with urgency, and you look to him with sudden concern. It is unlike him to have emotion wavier in his speech, which is why it stands out like a sore spot to you.
“As it were. What is going on? Is everyone alright?” Your eyes catch his in the light, watching as he doesn’t dare turn his face away from yours. You can see his Adam’s apple bob before he speaks once again, leaning a little closer as to ensure that you do not misunderstand him.
“I do not think that it had dawned upon me until this evening that your search for a husband would take you from me.” Your eyebrows furrow, leaving you to attempt to speak,
“Benedict I don’t understand-“ He cuts you off once more.
“In all of the memories I have of my father I do not recall a single one where he did not devote his soul to my mother.” He pulls away, looking you in the eye again, the both of you still moving with the timing of the music. “There were moments of hardship and I can recollect times where he had great anger. But it was never towards her. While I was still rather young, he did not fail to remind me of how deeply he cared for her and everyone of his children.” It is now you see tears beginning to form in his eyes, a concerned hand reaching to his cheek.
“My dearest friend, what in the heavens above has brought this on?” With reassurance, he continues on.
“When he passed I saw the toll it had on my mother. She described to us that there was nothing more she prayed for than for his peaceful rest, and for him to guide their children to a love such as the one they had for each other. As my eldest friend, I know that this may bring great concern to you and strain to the connection that we have but I can no longer turn a blind eye towards my feelings.” His grip in your hand tightens as he slows with the music, the two of you pausing completely.
“My mother prayed that he would lead me to the most treasured of friendships, the most blessed of women and the strongest of loves. My dear. He led me to you. I have been a fool to not have seen it til now but I must act with haste if I want to ensure my opportunity does not depart before my eyes. Ms Savoy I am… utterly and foolishly in love with you. Long have I been your obedient servant before either of us knew it to be true. You might turn at my confession but I shan’t disappoint my father by not attempting to walk through the door he has opened for me.” Within the subsequent pause, the two of you share in warm, tearful gaze, unmoving despite those around you who have continued to flutter around the room. Still in the position of a dancing pair on a wooden ballroom floor, seemingly frozen in time.
“Benedict. I do not know much but..” you take pause to gather your thoughts, seeing his jaw tighten with concern. You shush him quickly, shaking your head. “No, dear I assure you this shall not be painful to hear. Quite the opposite in fact.” Your hand grips his bicep, tears slowly escaping from your eyes, rolling down cheeks, his own thumb wiping at them. “I do not know much, but I do know that your father was a bright man. And I know that I sought out a man such as him to be my husband one day. A man who cherished his wife deeply, a dutiful husband and father. I have been under the guise that a man such as one like him were hard to come by.” With a small smile, you are able to whisper to Benedict with care. “Instead, I can see that he, himself, had raised such a man. A kind, thoughtful and loving gentleman. Named Benedict Bridgerton.” With relief escaping him he drops your hand, quickly pulling you to his embrace, both of you tightly tying yourselves to one another, unwilling to move. Unwilling to release the other, for an eternity and more.
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?
Warnings: it’s really just some domestic type fluff with flirty benedict, flirty adjacent, no specific mentions of plus-size reader it’s just what I had in mind while writing, fem pronouns
Summary: benedict is a simple man, whenever he sees you wearing his shirt which leaves your bare legs on show for him, he turns into a lovesick fool
Request: Your requests are finally open you remember that scene where Eloise asks about how children are made?! Could you include the reader in that scene? Eloise is asking her too? Please include Benedict as well. Maybe they’re in a relationship or they’re in love with each other but they don’t know?! I don’t have much. I just thought that scene with the reader included would be perfect. Thank you <3 - anon
A/N:Thank you for being so patient with me. I love this idea so much, I had so much fun with it. I have changed some of the dialogue from the original scene but I hope you like it!
Warnings: mentions of sex, marriage, I messed with timelines a little bit but it works (I think), dialogue heavy. this ended up being part humour, but part serious talk about gender frustrations. idk. I like it tho. female titles - mrs etc.
Word count: 1.5k
The Bridgerton family always thrived through the London social season. Their family so established within society that their balls, tea parties, and dinners were always packed with beloved friends and acquaintances.
It was one of the famous Bridgerton balls that you met your husband, Benedict. He had asked you to dance after working up the courage for most of the night, and the moment your hand touched his, he knew he was a goner. For you, it was the moment he pressed his lips to the back of your hand at the end of the dance
Two years later, your place within the family was well established. Violet doting on you as if you were one of her own children, Daphne and Eloise coming to you with questions they could never ask their mother or brothers. They placed a trust in you that you could only hope you lived up to, but all worries were worth it when you got to go home with the love of your life at the end of the day.
———-
The pale blue drawing room is filled with the delicate notes of the pianoforte played skilfully by Daphne. Violet stands by her daughter’s side, watching her proudly before moving to the tea table and reaching for the teapot.
You sit on the opposite couch to Benedict, watching with glee as he bickers with Colin over the last buttery biscuit on the nearby plate. Benedict pouts childishly when Colin wrestles it from his fingers, taking a large bite in victory. You smirk at the expression on Benedict’s face, highly amused by your husband.
“Are you laughing at your husband’s loss, Mrs. Bridgerton?” Benedict asks, his voice teasing as he arches an eyebrow at you.
“Of course not, my love,” You answer, “Just at the biscuit’s circumstances.”
A satisfied smile crosses Benedict’s face at the sound of your endearment for him. You would always be his darling; he would always be your love. His smile grows so large that he forgets about his biscuit loss and instead, loses himself to thoughts of his plans for you tonight. He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t hear Eloise enter the room until she speaks.
“How does a lady come to be with child?” Eloise asks upon entering the pale blue drawing room; her tone demanding, her face worried.
Silence descends upon the drawing room with such speed that it makes your ears pop. Daphne pauses her practice of the pianoforte, her fingers poised over the keys. Colin chokes on the butter biscuit he was eating; the chunks getting stuck in his throat as Gregory rushes over to him with a cup of tepid earl grey tea. Violet almost drops her teacup, her legs going weak at such a question leaving her unmarried daughter’s lips. Benedict’s eyes find yours; wide with alarm as a shocked expression crosses his face.
It was the last thing anyone in the room was expecting to hear this morning.
“Eloise!” Violet cries, her voice shrill at the unexpected question. “What a question!”
“Apparently,” Eloise chortles in disbelief. “One does not need to be married!”
“That is enough, Eloise Bridgerton,” Violet exclaims angrily. “Sit down with no more talk of such things.”
Eloise blinks at her mother before clamping her lips shut, joining you on the couch across from her brothers. You pat her hand consolingly. Eloise groans as she leans back on the couch, rubbing her forehead with hand. She glares at her elder brothers. “I bet the two of you know,” She accuses, her shrewd gaze jumping between her siblings.
“Do not look at me,” Benedict pleads, desperate to have any other conversation than the one currently holding the attention of the room.
“Have you ever visited a farm, El?” Colin jokes much to the anger of his mother who admonishes him for broaching improper topics of conversation. You cover your mouth to stifle the laughter threatening to burst free.
Eloise turns her attention to you, ignoring her brothers altogether. “Do you know how a lady comes to be with child?”
Your eyes widen with her forwardness; the burning curiosity alight in her eyes combined with a hint of fear at the unknown. Clearing your throat, you turn to your husband. “Benedict?” You address, “Do you have an answer for your sister?”
“I do not,” Benedict answers easily, avoiding the conversation entirely.
“Please (Y/N),” Eloise all but begs.
“I’m sorry, Eloise,” You say quietly, dropping your voice to not worry Violet. “This isn’t something that is so freely spoken about. This is something you find out when the time is right.”
“When is that time? When I’m married?” Eloise demands, crossing her arms as her anger begins to get the better of her. “What use is that if I want to know now? I won’t be out until next year, and even then I bet the answer is still wrapped up tight for me not to know.”
“I understand your frustrations, Eloise,” You whisper, doing your best to comfort the young lady. “You just need a little patience.”
Eloise huffs, turning away with indignation at which you frown. You would happily tell her, happily educate her on why marriage was not a necessity to have a child, but it would go against the wishes of your family by marriage, so you keep quiet. Instead, you sigh sadly, upset at the clear frustration written on Eloise’s young face.
Benedict can almost feel the hurt rolling off your shoulders as he watches you be dismissed by his younger sister. His heart squeezes at the turn down of your lips and furrow of your brow. He slaps Colin on the knee in parting before standing. “Darling,” Benedict murmurs, “Let’s leave them in peace for today. We’ll come back tomorrow.”
Reaching for Benedict’s hand, you pat Eloise’s shoulder with your free hand. She stiffens but doesn’t move. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you more,” You murmur, squeezing her shoulder before leaving the room with Benedict in tow.
———
“What would you have me do?” Benedict sighs exasperatedly, unbuttoning the last three buttons of his loose, white shirt as he readies himself for bed. “Tell Eloise the truth? Mother would have my head.”
This conversation had been bubbling all day. The morning spent at Bridgerton House, and the subsequent conversation with Eloise was playing on your mind. It had dimmed your mood every time you thought of the upset on Eloise’s face, and how she was shut down by her family.
You fix Benedict with an unimpressed look before ducking behind your dressing screen, ridding yourself of the dress you had worn to dinner. “No, I wouldn’t have you do that, but surely you can see the imbalance.”
Benedict remains silent, unsure of where the conversation is heading. You sigh, pressing a hand to your forehead and poking your head out from behind the screen. “It’s so frustrating, having to wait until days before your wedding before finding out how children are made and what sex is. It’s humiliating too. To sit there as your mother stutters through her explanation that isn’t really an explanation at all, and you enter a marriage without much knowledge of what to expect other than hope that your husband will have some idea of what to do.”
“I haven’t thought of it like that.”
“You haven’t had to, Benedict, but you have to understand Eloise’s frustration,” You all but plead as you re-enter the room, ready to go to bed with your beloved husband. “I’m not saying explain the whole birds and the bees to her, but there needs to be some form of education that shouldn’t have to come down to our mothers with mere hours before a wedding.”
“It can’t be mere hours,” Benedict argues.
With a hand on your hip, you arch an eyebrow at your husband in challenge. “My mother explained sex to me two hours before I married you. Luckily, I had already bribed a maid in the house to explain it to me a year before, so I knew what I was expecting. I don’t know whether Eloise will think of such a thing.”
“Two hours?” Benedict gasps, reaching for you.
You nod, going to him willingly. “Two hours. She didn’t know how to broach the subject which is what I’m worried about. That’s why something needs to be done. I just hope in future generations that such a talk will be approached with much more knowledge and comfort.”
“Alright,” Benedict concedes after a moment of reflection. “I see how Eloise could be frustrated, but there isn’t anything I can do. It is Mother’s decision as to when she tells Eloise, not ours despite what we may think.”
“I know, but I’m glad you’ve listened. Thank you for that,” You whisper, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to Benedict’s unshaved cheek.
“Now,” Benedict murmurs, ducking to press a light kiss to your neck. “Can we go to bed?”
A light chuckle leaves your lips as you revel in the way your husband seems to find that sweet spot on your neck every single time. “Lead the way.”
anthony, viscount bridgerton x female reader [one shot]
summary: you are anthony’s wife and the new viscountess of the bridgerton household. you and anthony have been married for a few months, and it hasn’t been easy for you in your marriage to the viscount. the pressure amounts between you and anthony when you receive a letter that your parents will be visiting you.
warnings: period typical misogyny, gender roles, anxiety, panic attack, and talk of abuse.
word count: 2,256
a/n: this one shot is set after season one of bridgerton
The feelings were sudden but familiar. It was overwhelming. Your heart was pounding. You couldn’t breathe. You felt like you were dying. As you attempted to walk, the rooms were starting to spin. You started feeling nauseated, and your heart was pounding rapidly out of your chest.
Your hands were shaking as you attempted to grasp the cause in your hand.
You somehow made your way out into the gardens. You shakingly sat down on a bench and attempted to breathe to calm. You had your eyes closed as you attempted to stop the familiar feelings you had done all your life.
You did not realize that one of your brothers-in-law had followed you since you rushed out of the drawing-room.
Benedict was beside himself as to what was happening to you. He had never seen you act like that before. Nor had he known what exactly was happening to you.
“(Y/N).” Benedict softly called out your name as he kneeled in front of you.
You slowly opened your eyes and were stunned to see Benedict with deep concerns in his.
“Benedict. What are you doing here?” You questioned your in-law in fear of what he witnessed.
“I followed you. What happened? Do you need me to call for the doctor?”
“No! Please do not call anyone. No one can help me. I can take care of this myself.” You responded, making Benedict confused.
“And what exactly just happened?” Benedict moved to sit next to you on the bench.
“Chest pains, dizziness, shortness of breath, my heart pounds, shakiness, those are just some of the symptoms.”
“Symptoms of what?”
“There is no name for it or a medical diagnosis. Doctors have never known what exactly it is.”
“How long have you had this?” Benedict questioned with worries.
“All of my life.”
“All of your life? What causes such symptoms?” Without looking at him, you handed Benedict the cause.
Benedict looked down and read the letter that came for you from your parents.
It has been three months since your wedding to the Viscount, and we have not heard any news of you being with child. Have you already screwed up this marriage to the Viscount? You have always screwed up everything since the day you were born. You are an embarrassment and a disgrace to us all. We are coming to visit to fix what you have screwed up as we speak.
Benedict was outraged by the words. You could see the anger on his face.
“Would you believe that those were the nicest words they have used towards me?” You stated nonchalantly.
Benedict looked over at you and saw no emotion on your face as you had been dealing with this your entire life.
“Benedict, Not everyone was raised by loving parents like you and your siblings. Not everyone was loved, supported, and encouraged. I am a disgrace, embarrassment, hated, and much more. It has been like that since the day I was born. I can only imagine what they will do and say to me once they arrive.”
“(Y/N), have they hurt you… physically?” You did not have the heart to answer your brother-in-law.
By your lack of response, Benedict knew the answer to his question.
“Does my brother know about this?” Benedict questioned, making you scoff.
“Your brother knows nothing about me. He only knows what I could provide as a Viscountess and future mother to his children. My father could not wait to get rid of me. As soon as Anthony asked for my hand, my father immediately said yes. My father would let me marry anyone to get rid of me. Your brother being a Viscount is a bonus to them. They are most likely to ask the Viscount for money when they arrive. They most likely spent my dowry.”
A few brief silent moments passed before you broke it.
“In these past three months, I sometimes think, where am I better off? Herewith your brother or with my parents. All three of them hate me. All three of them despise me. I am an embarrassment and disgrace to my parents. Who knows what your brother thinks of me at this point. I am half of mind to pack my things and leave with them regardless of their treatment towards me. They probably would not even take me back.”
Benedict did not know what to say to his sister-in-law.
“When I was a young girl, I would dream of finding someone who would love me, court me, propose to me. We would get married, have children, and leave happily ever after…” You began to have tears in your eyes.
“Your brother fooled me. On the night of our wedding, he brazenly told me he would not love me. There would be no love in this marriage. I would only be the Viscountess and bred his children. I just wanted to die. Last night, I told him that I would move to a separate bedroom. I refuse to share a bed with a stranger. Now, my parents are coming, and I must deal with their abuse again. I am not even with child. They will tear me to shreds.”
“No, they will not.” You looked at Benedict with question.
“You are a Bridgerton now. You are a part of this family. My brother may not treat you as such, but you are to the rest of us. No one will speak harshly of you in our presence, especially mine.” Benedict stated with such conviction.
“Thank you, Benedict.”
Benedict grabbed your hand and gently squeezed it for comfort.
“You are welcome, sister.”
After making sure that you felt better, Benedict with the letter still in his hand walked towards his brother’s office.
Anthony was sitting in his office working when Benedict rudely and hastily entered the room.
“Brother, I am busy…” Before Anthony could say a word, Benedict handed his eldest brother the letter.
“What is this?” Anthony questioned.
“Go ahead and read it.” Benedict saw Anthony read the letter and saw the confusion begin to form on his face.
“(Y/N)’s parents sent this letter?”
“Yes. According to (Y/N), they will most likely ask you for money.”
“Is this why she was behaving differently earlier?” Anthony asked.
“Yes. According to (Y/N) they had been abusive her entire life both verbally and physically, and it looks like they are coming here to continue that because she is not with child.”
Benedict could see that his older brother did not know what to say or do.
“(Y/N) never said anything to me.” Anthony spoke softly.
“How could she brother? You barely interact with your wife to know anything about her life.” Benedict stated harshly to his brother, who glared at him.
“Brother…” Before Anthony could say anything, Benedict interrupted.
“Anthony, spare me the lecture. Everyone in this household including staff knows the truth about your treatment of your wife. It is obvious to everyone. The verity that (Y/N) has moved bedrooms proves it.”
Benedict could see that Anthony was at a loss for words.
“Brother, love does not make you weak. It is ok for you to extend your love beyond the family. (Y/N) thinks you loathe her just like her parents do. You do not see how wonderful she is not only as the Viscountess of his household but as a person. You do not see that she is the first person awake every morning and almost the last to bed every night. (Y/N) making sure that everything is perfect and running smoothly. She makes sure that the family is happy and content every day. And yet she is not happy. She does not know where she is better off here or with her parents. She is thinking about leaving and going back with them, brother regardless of how they treat her.” Anthony was stunned by the revelation.
“Either you change your ways brother, and accept (Y/N) into your heart or you will be looking for a new wife and Viscountess in the next season.” Benedict stated firmly before walking out of the room.
Anthony had spent the rest of the afternoon in his office reeling and pondering on what his brother had told him.
He did not even have dinner with his family and slept in his office that night.
For the next few days, you were on your hands and feet, making sure the house was perfect.
The family barely had a chance to interact with you as you were constantly working in preparation for your parent’s arrival.
On the evening of, you were in your bedroom finishing getting dressed. You had picked and worn your best dress.
As you were fixing your hair, you heard a knock on the bedroom door.
“Enter.” You softly commanded.
You turned around and were slightly shocked to see the Viscount himself entering your bedroom.
“Good evening, (Y/N).” Anthony spoke.
“Good evening, my Lord.” You spoke firmly with no emotion.
“Your parents have arrived and are waiting in the dining room. I thought that we would walk together to dinner.”
You nodded in response. Anthony had held his hand out for you to take, but you ignored it as you walked past him.
The Viscount knew that he deserved that and more.
The both of you walked out of your bedroom and headed towards the dining room where Violet, Benedict, Colin, Eloise, and your parents were waiting.
Dinner was silent, tense, and uncomfortable. The only noise that was produced in the room was the sound of the silverware moving around on the plate.
Your parents barely acknowledged you as you had entered the dining room. They only had stern looks on their faces.
You were barely eating your food, and it was noticed not only by your in-laws but the Viscount as well.
You could feel your anxiety rising by the second. You were waiting for the moment that your parents would ruin the evening, and not a moment too soon it happened as you took the first sip of your wine.
“(Y/N), I see that you are not with child.” Your mother broke the silence making the room pause.
“No, mother. I am not with child.” You responded.
“Three months into the marriage, and you are not with child? We have heard some staff talking that you are in a separate bedroom. Have you disordered up your new role as the Viscountess?” Your father spoke with a cruel tone in his voice making you wince.
The Bridgerton family was in disarray for what they were witnessing. Benedict was sitting next to you and was getting angry at the scene, more at his eldest brother, who had not spoken for the night.
Tears began to form in your eyes as you felt the familiar feelings coming. You were gripping your wine glass to the brink of breaking as you took another sip.
“(Y/N) has been an embarrassment to this family since the day she was born. She has been a disgrace to us, and now she is a disgrace to the Bridgerton family.”
“Now, that is it!” Benedict had enough of your parents and threw his napkin down on the table, making everyone look at him stunned.
“I had enough of this…” Before Benedict could finish his sentence, the Viscount interfered.
“Brother.” Anthony gave Benedict a look before turning to his in-laws.
“That is enough. Since the moment you arrived, you have failed to show the proper respect for the Viscountess, and I will not stand for it any longer.”
“I declare…” Before your father’s rebuttal, Anthony spoke again.
“I will not… stand for it. Lady (Y/N) has done an exceptional job as the Viscountess. In these past three months, I have never seen my family and this household as happier now than in the past few years and that is because of (Y/N). My mother and my siblings all love and adore (Y/N) and wholeheartedly accept her as their own. I will not allow you to enter our home and continue your abuses towards (Y/N). You were able to get away with it when (Y/N) lived with you, but it will not happen here and especially in our presence. You may leave at once!” Anthony commanded.
“You cannot be serious!” Your mother yelled out, making Anthony stand up out of his chair and walked toward the butler.
“Please send for the carriage. They can wait outside.” The butler nodded his head before leaving the room.
“This is beyond the pale.” Your father and mother stood up out of their chairs and walked out of the dining room without giving you a second glance.
The Bridgerton family all looked at Anthony with pride and happiness on their faces. They could not believe that he had finally decided to make changes towards you and your marriage.
Anthony felt the stares from his family, but his focus was on you. You had not moved since the start of Anthony’s defense.
“(Y/N)…” Anthony walked toward you and gently took you by the hand to make you stand up out of your seat.
You faced Anthony as both of you made eye contact with one another.
“(Y/N)…”
“My Lord…” That was all you could say before your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and you had fainted into the Viscount’s arms.
“(Y/N)!” Anthony cried out.
Benedict, Colin, and Eloise ran to the both of you as Violet ran out to get help.
“(Y/N)! Wake up! Wake up!” Anthony was in horror as you were non-responsive in his arms.
published: 05/15/2022
First off, I just would like to thank everyone for the love and support that I have received for this one shot! I would have never imagine the response that I have received. It is truly amazing. Thank you all very, very much. This was just a small idea and that idea has manifested into something I didn’t think was possible. This one shot is probably the #1 one shot/series fanfiction that I have written thus far. I think that I will continue this one shot into two more parts based on where I begin and end on the next part of this one shot. Please let me know your thoughts of this one shot! Thank you for the love and support!
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