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.
Warnings:this is definitely steamy but no actual smut, you and anthony are super in love but shhh its a secret, siena just doesn’t exist sorry babe, fluffy friendships with the rest of the bridgerton siblings, it just so happens anthony is down bad for you (are these warnings? yes)
A/N:This one just absolutely flowed out of me, so forgive a few plot holes for the sake of some hot Anthony tension if you would! I can’t thank you enough for the response to my first Benedict fic, I really have been blown away, so I really hope you equally enjoy my first foray into the realm of Anthony <3
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Lady Danbury’s ball was the perfect occasion to begin the season on the correct foot, even if your ambitions for the season were rather different to every other eligible miss in the ton. You smoothed out the deeply emerald dress that currently fluttered around your figure as you stepped out of your carriage alongside your mother, taking her arm and walking through the grand entrance to the ballroom.
It felt as if you were escorting her rather than the other way around as she talked excitedly at your side, asking your opinion on whether you thought the newly renowned Lady Whistledown might be here tonight or not. Keeping your composure, you answered her as politely as you could manage, with little excitement, knowing that attempting to speak more than three words at a time in your mother’s presence was quite the challenge. You were at least grateful that she was far more concerned with her own plans for the evening than having anything to do with finding you a husband.
True to her nature, your mother hurried off to Lady Cowper as soon as the two of you were inside, intending to continue their spirited gossip session from their afternoon tea three days prior. Doing your best not to shake your head at her lack of maturity, lest Lady Whistledown indeed be watching from the wings, you resolved to enjoy your evening the only way you knew how - with the company of the Bridgertons.
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???
I was thinking that I want to publish here the bridgerton story that I wrote on wattpad, with anthony as the love interest. Although I would have to translate it into English first because my mother tongue is Spanish and i didn’t see a lot of stories in Spanish here in tumblr, i know it would be probably better if the story is in English.
And I don’t know whether to leave the story with the oc it has or to give it a first person narration and instead of my oc’s name use y/n, I’ll see what I can do, but i really want to do it.
However, I don’t think I’ll post it on this account but on a new one, that way I avoid mixing the icons with the story and the possible one shots, headcanons, etc. that I have in mind and that I’ve already started writting on wattpad.
Summary: who’d have thought a dance with the Viscount could lead to such shocking revelations?
Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x female!reader
Warnings: none!! Pure fluff!!!
You smoothed down the soft jewel toned dress you wore as your mother grabbed onto your arm, all but dragging you into the ballroom.
An abundance of eyes rested on you but not one pair had your interest. In fact, you were rather appalled by the idea of being traded to one of these lords for just a sizeable dowry.
“Darling, I expect you’ll be polite. Your future husband could be gracing this room with his presence as we speak.” Your mother murmurs in your ear and you force a stiff smile to your lips, taking a deep breath through your nose as you simply nod in response.
As you gracefully trapse down the stairway in lady Danbury’s home, you try your best to pretend you’re nowhere near here, like you’re instead at home, in the drawing room with your family.
“Lady y/l/n, would you care to dance with me?” A young man you barely recognize asks politely, stepping directly in front of you as you reach the bottom step, leaving you with a small height advantage to the man in front of you.
You look to your mama with a pleading look, giving it your all but she simply gives him a wide grin and nods, shooing you off her arm. You on the other hand, would rather hide behind her and grab hold of the entrails of her skirt like a shy child.
You take his hand hesitantly, letting him fill out your dance card with a look of despair, glancing around the grand room for anyone you could possibly recognize. You noticed a few of the Bridgertons gallivanting about, including Eloise, one of your dearest friends. You decided then and there you would make your escape to her soon enough, after one dance with the Lord Norton, as you finally read his name to be. Surely she would come up with a plan to get you out of there in one piece and with no suitors in tow.
The young man grabbed stiff and awkward hold of your hand and waist, making you want to wince though you know your mother would later scold you for it if you did, so you remained of neutral face.
“I have heard you are quite the dancer lady y/l/n. Perhaps you could show me so tonight?” He suggests and you force yet another kind smile and a nod.
“Yes perhaps so.” You say meekly, trying to withhold the frown you wanted to let free.
The song went on for a painfully long time and when it ended, you couldn’t get away fast enough. You pretended to notice someone new and excused yourself, slipping through the crowd of people to the outskirts of the dancefloor where Eloise is standing, watching everything with a disgusted look.
“My thoughts exactly.” You say dryly, moving to stand next to her, happy to slink in the shadows for the remainder of the evening.
“It is dreadful isn’t it, being thrown into the ton like cattle to be bought or won? I mean really, how ladylike is that truly?” Eloise asks you, earning some looks from the surrounding Mamas.
The two of you stand in silence for a minute after that, holding in giggles until they’ve dispersed and forgotten about you.
“My brother is a part of it this year. As are you. I suppose the two of you should form some sort of amicable alliance, protect each other from the upcoming stampede of desperates?” She suggests.
“Careful, my mama may hear you and believe that to mean you’re offering me a Bridgerton husband on a silver platter.” You laugh, giggling along with Eloise. Your laughs quiet down as Anthony himself approaches, as though he sensed his presence in the conversation.
“Have you filled your card so soon Lady y/l/n? A shame, I was to ask you for a dance to rid me of the swarm that seems to follow my every step.” He says with a small grin, making you grow a real smile.
“Perhaps there is room for one more partner, though you’ll have to take my wrist to find out, I realize that comes as a difficulty to you lord Bridgerton.” You tease back, noticing the eyes of lord Norton calling to you. You ignore the patronizing look, instead choosing to further tease the viscount by raising your arm so your dance card dangles right in front of his face, raising a challenging eyebrow to him.
The two of you had been performing this rouse with each other for longer than you could remember. The friendships between your families went back years, long before you or Anthony were even a faint thought and so, you’d known each other quite literally your whole lives. Instead of a fast friendship though, you challenged each other at every event, taking turns teasing the other and leading them to a sort of trap. Typically, whichever of you blushed or flustered easier was the loser of the little game you played.
“Well lord Bridgerton? Will you accompany me to the dance floor, or shall I do something truly improper and heaven forbid request your sister’s company instead?” You grin wickedly, watching him roll his eyes as he gently takes your wrist and tickles your gloved hand with the end, writing his name in the second space.
As the current song falls to an end, you take the Lord Bridgertons hand in yours before he even has the option of taking yours first. He looks slightly shocked for a moment but then smiles mischievously before taking strong hold of your waist, pulling you that much closer to him and earning a small gasp in return.
“Were you not expecting that?” He asks, faking confusion as you shake your head with a laugh.
“You are nothing like these mamas think you are viscount. You’ll likely corrupt their poor young ladies with the most miniscule of grins.” You say cheekily, earning a chuckle from him.
He twirls you around and right back into his chest.
“Perhaps I like being an element of surprise in this traditional stiff game.” He suggests, his own eyebrow raised. You scoff a laugh, getting another eyebrow in return. “Do you find my statement humorous?” He says directly into the shell of your ear.
You turn yourself around, back to his hand in yours and the other resting on the small of your back as you sway.
“Not at all, I merely find it untrue. You are a perfect gentleman, a true nobleman and a good man to your family. You, just as the Duke of Hastings was, are every mamas dream. Good looks, good societal stature. I’m surprised my own mama has not yet thrown me at you herself.” You explain.
“You must have spoken too soon, your mother is hastily making her way to us as we dance.” He smirks back, releasing you from his grasp just as the song comes to an end.
“Y/n!” Your mother hisses, carefully and somehow gracefully storming up to you.
“Yes mama?” You ask sweetly, letting her guide you off to the side, a more private place to chat.
“What on earth are you doing? You are to be meeting potential husbands, not off with the viscount again. You make this same attempt every event. Unless you intend to court him, you must demonstrate your availability to the eligible young men who are truly interested.” She scolds, making you bow your head with a sigh.
“Mama I was being polite. Lord Bridgerton asked me to dance and I obliged out of duty. If I had turned him down, imagine how I would appear to all others!” You insist, coming up with excuses on the spot. She sighs and waves you away, walking off to gossip with Cressidas mama some more.
You groan quietly, carefully making your own way over to the refreshments, grabbing a glass of lemonade and taking a delicate sip.
“Tart is it not?” A voice asks behind you, taking you by surprise.
You turn to find Lady Danbury herself and you smile kindly, letting your shoulders rerelax themselves.
“Yes my lady. I believe it is one of the best batches yet.” You say with a grin, getting one right back from her.
“I noticed you having a beautiful dance with lord Bridgerton. Am I right to assume there may be a flame between the two of you? A viscount is quite the prize to win, I’m sure your family would be proud.” She suggests with a knowing grin.
“Oh! no, no. You should have us mistaken Lady Danbury! The viscount and I are merely old family friends. There is no courtship there.” You chuckled, astonished by the accusation.
“Really? I mean are you sure? Perhaps it is more to him than ‘tis to you but I did see a very particular glimmer in both your eyes as you danced. He shall remain at least a little jealous of the suitors you gain from that little dance.” She smiles, patting a hand over your own thoughtfully.
You, too stunned to speak, simply nod politely and excuse yourself, turning to make your leave and instead bumping right into Anthony Bridgerton himself.
“My apologies.” You mumble, your face flushed as you rush the other way, completely puzzling the man.
You practically all but ran outside, gathering your billowing skirt and making your way through the maze of a garden. Your head felt fuzzy and full, you didn’t know what to think.
“Lady y/l/n!” A familiar voice cries after you.
“Leave me to my thoughts Mr. Bridgerton!” You plead, running a hand over your face.
“Perhaps I may help? Come please… y/n we’ve known each other too long for you to dismiss me in such a manner. What troubles you? Is it the lord Norton, because if it was, I shall have a word with him.” He says, suddenly very protective of your integrity.
You snort again lightly. “Lord Bridgerton it is nothing of the sort! In fact, it is the affections of another that leave me so perplexed.” You sigh, shaking your head as you let out a breath.
“I see… and which gentleman may that be?” He asks, hiding the smidge of jealousy that dares to ring in his voice.
“It is not my place to say. Perhaps he could tell you himself, he is standing in this very garden after all.” You joke, a frown taking its place on your lips.
You laugh stiffly as he turns his head every which way, looking for the man in question.
“Lady y/l/n, there is no other man around… or is it too dark for me to possibly notice him?” Anthony asks, clearly completely clueless to what you’re explaining.
“You! I am referring to you Lord Bridgerton!” You decree, turning round swiftly to meet his wide eyes with your own troubled ones.
He remains silent, staring back at you, mouth agape. Anthony was used to such proclamations from random young women in town however you were no ordinary young woman. You were lady y/l/n. You were the lady he had so admired, so come to love. Since the moment the two of you reached an age where you developed feelings for the other gender, he was enamored by you. There was no other who smiled, laughed, joked or looked at him in such a way as you did and that held his affections more strongly than anything else could.
His inability to speak left you with a deep frown of your own, your lip quivering slightly as you bow your head in embarrassment.
“Very well, I see I was led astray. No need to fret, plenty of suitors anyway so no matter.” You say, your cheeks once again flushed.
He quickly recovers from his own daze at the sight of you turning away from him once again, carefully grabbing your wrist and pulling you back towards him.
“Anthony we should not even be out on our own, with no chaperone in sight… it is improper, you know this.” You say, trying to find any possible way to excuse yourself from the conversation you’d started.
“Just as improper as dropping the formalities before so much as the suggestion of courtship?” He challenges, making you go silent.
“Y/n I have never once denied an attraction to you. Do you truly believe me to be such a fool that I would not see your exquisite beauty?” He asks thoughtfully, catching your attention once again, your lips parted in complete surprise at his words. Your face is crimson without the need for the rouge on your cheeks, and you laugh out of sheer confusion.
“Honestly? Yes, I believed that perhaps your affections are captured by another young lady from the town. Possibly the young opera singer…” You suggest, laughing at your own joke.
“Sienna is… she is important to me yes but I’ve only been with her because I believed you to be promised to another, though I now see your hand is not yet taken.” He hums, smiling lightly at you.
“Lord Bridgerton… I do not have words that could respond to your advances… it seems highly inappropriate.” You say, going to turn away again, breaking the remaining hold his hand has over the cuff of your gloves.
“Y/n please drop the title. I see it as meant for those who do not truly know me however we are both very aware of the fact that you and I know each other perfectly well.” He says, gently lifting your chin to make eye contact with him once again.
“Very well, Anthony. This is highly unlike you. I’ve never seen you lose your proper language and tone before, not at public events anyway.” You state, fully aware of your close proximity to the viscount.
“On the contrary I do like to play the wildcard from time to time. And I regard you in too high a manner to pretend we are nothing less than the normal.” He says, moving in closer to you, taking your breath away.
He continues his approach, making you bite your lip with the widest of eyes, unable to speak.
A moment later you return to your senses, blinking out of your fairytale moment.
“We cannot go any further… not unless you’re prepared to propose.” You say, backing up to build distance.
He continued to stare you down, trying to convince you to return his affections with only a look.
“You should like to paint a picture.” You joke in attempts to lighten the mood.
“Y/n if that is all it takes, I shall marry you in a few months time.” He announces, pulling you into his arms and swinging you around with joy.
“What a very romantic proposal, I may just swoon.” You say sarcastically, laughing as he puts you down with his own perplexed look.
“Whatever do you mean y/n? You asked for a proposal and i obliged.” He says, making you let out a snort.
“You obliged?! As though proposing to take my hand is some sort of duty you are ‘obliged’ to do. When I said proposal I meant a truly proper one. You must ask my father for permission to propose, you must bring flowers and be in the drawing room when we announce it as official.” You explain. “I am shocked you did not think of it, you were so very insistent upon it when it came to your own sister last season.” You scoff.
“If you should truly mean what you are asking, you shall be at y/l/n house tomorrow morning to treat me as the lady I am rather than a common whore you wish to trick. Understood?” You ask before he gets the chance to object your ultimatum.
He gulps and then nods rapidly, afraid to speak in case of offending you or further entangling the web of your relationship, watching you smile back at him and walk away, back to the party and away from him.
——————————————————
The next morning…
The very next morning, all of the eligible ladies of the ton are eagerly waiting for their dukes and viscounts and gentlemen to come calling. The center of London is bustling with activity of carriages, footmen and of course their gentlemen calling on the women they seek.
You are among those not so patiently waiting. Since you’d woken, you were in the drawing room, pretending to be distracted by books and needlepoint but in reality, being completely anxious for the day to come.
After you’d left Anthony and returned indoors, the night was somewhat of a blur. Your thoughts remained on Anthony but your physical presence was there, on the floor, where another gentleman, though much older than the others who seemed to fancy you, had asked for your third dance. You agreed, not wanting to be impolite or for your mother to have reason to invoke her rath.
So, you danced with the lord Gillington, and it was all fine but you held no interest in him, nor in Lord Newton, who apparently was to stop by today as well.
When the third dance ended you faked a headache and feigned fatigue to your mother, who reluctantly agreed. There were other eyes on you and she would have preferred you have at least one more dance but you had done as she asked and that was all she could hope for.
You arrived home early but that wasn’t to say you slept well. You were restless, worrying over the possibilities for the next day. Surely Anthony would never lead you on in a way such as this for your silly little game but there was no certainty there. Still you took comfort in knowing that he was typically a man of his word.
But now, as you sat twiddling with your thumbs, you weren’t so certain. He was as he liked to put it now ‘a wildcard’ when it came to romance and you had never actually attempted such a thing in your relationship.
You ignored your nerves and smoothed down your silky day dress and took yet another deep breath, getting ready to settle back in when one of your staff enter the room. Quickly you rise to your feet.
“A gentleman is here for ms. Y/l/n.” He announces and you smile wide at your mother.
“Send him in then!” She urges, just as excitedly.
He obliges and a minute later a man enters but your face falls as you see its not who you’d hoped.
“Lord Newton.” You greet, pasting as much of a smile as you can muster on your face, taking the delicate bouquet he holds into your own hands and giving them a polite smell.
“Lady y/l/n. You look beautiful, as always.” He greets back, lightly kissing your hand. Your mother looks ecstatic but you couldn’t be less so.
You knew it best to keep your options open but it wasn’t your nature. You were interested in one man and one man alone and it was all his own fault.
“Thank you lord Newton, that’s very kind of you. Would you like to sit?” You ask, sitting back down on the chaise, patting it lightly for him.
He graciously accepts, sitting next to you.
“I have come to ask if you should like to court, lady y/l/n? I do not wish to be too forward however I am quite taken with you my lady.” He states, smiling back at you and you don’t even have to look at your mother to know she’s likely bouncing with joy.
“I-” You start but he is quick to interrupt, something you don’t take kindly to.
“You need not make haste with your decision, I’m aware you will have more suitors throughout the day. I only wish to make my intentions known.” He says, once again kissing your hand. “I shall take my leave. Lady y/l/n. Lady y/l/n.” He says, bowing before walking out the door.
“Oh dearest! That is practically your first proposal! Of many I am certain.” Your mother cheers, hugging you tightly, laughing with joy.
You nod meekly, trying to stay somewhat happy for your mothers sake.
Throughout the day, callers come and go, bearing gifts and kind words nonstop. The room is a festival of colours and chatter and the sweet fragrance of florals everywhere. And yet, no Bridgerton caller had arrived thus far.
“Perhaps Lady Whistledown shall write bright things about our home this week! You are getting plenty of attention from the best of the gentlemen.” Your mama says as the latest of the male callers take their leave.
“Yes perhaps this is true mama.” You say with another smile.
As you take a seat, another caller arrives and you stand yet again with a weak smile, tired of the anticipation of the days end drawing near.
“Lord Ambrose for you my lady.” The staff announces and you smile as you dismiss him.
“Lord Ambrose how delightful to see you.” You greet, taking a seat with him. In that moment, your youngest sister runs into the room, chased by your younger brother.
“Children!” Your mother warns, trying to toss them out of the room.
“It is no bother mama, they may stay. That is if it does not displease you Lord Ambrose?” You ask, turning to him for answer.
“Certainly not, I do love children, it is not a bother at all.” He replies, smiling more at you.
The two of you make chitchat for a while, watching the younger y/l/n children play together happily, passing time surprisingly pleasantly.
“I shall leave, I have had a wonderful afternoon with you my lady. I do hope you’ll consider perhaps courting me this season?” He asks and you feel your smile slipping at yet another sort of proposal.
“Perhaps yes, I shall need some time to consider.” You reply, watching as he accepts the excuse, kisses your hand and leaves.
Your smile falls, watching out the window as the sun falling slowly.
Your eyes dart to the ground when another carriage arrives and you’re quick to sit back down, your mama and your papa, who had just come in from his study, both giving you looks of confusion.
“Another caller I think. We shall see who it is in a moments time.” You grin, hope still heavy in your heart.
Your sister runs over to you and takes a seat next to you, playing with your skirt but you ignore it, watching the doorway intently.
“The viscount Bridgerton is here for you my lady.” He says and your grin grows all the bigger.
“Send him in!” You say with as much eager energy in your voice as your mother had early on.
And so, in walks Anthony, with a large and stunning bouquet of his own and a smile you couldn’t compare to any of the other gifts you’d received today because if you even tried, the rest would never hold a chance.
“My Lord.” You smile, bowing low to him. “I do believe I said this morning.” You tease as you rise, speaking low so your parents cannot hear.
He smiles wider at your cheeky tone. “Yes, I do apologize for the late hour, I had difficulty getting anything appropriate from the florist, so many desperate suitors looking for their own and of course I needed one that could compare to your on beauty though I realize that to be nearly impossible.” He explains and you purse your lips as though thinking whether to believe him or not.
“Lord Bridgerton.” Your mother greets him, bringing your attention to the fact that you are not alone.
“Lady y/l/n, a pleasure. And lord y/l/n, it is an honor to see you again.” Anthony greets both your parents, making your glee spread that much more.
“You as well lord Bridgerton.” Your father says, standing to shake his hand.
“I actually have some matters I’d like to discuss with you my lord. Shall we excuse ourselves?” Anthony asks and your father nods. The men take their leave to the study, your little brother chasing after them, eager to listen in. Your mother tries to stop him but he ignores her and she’s clearly too tired to try anymore.
“Might I ask dearest, what it is that prompted the Viscounts call?” She asks you, raising an eyebrow.
“I believe it was Lady Danbury’s revelations after we shared a dance last night. It would seem his mother and her ladyship have noticed something that myself and Lord Bridgerton have not. Until now that is.” You smile, keeping the true reason a secret for Anthony and yourself to hold tight.
“I see…” She hums unsurely, still going back to her needlepointing rather than investigate any longer.
You remain playing with your younger sister, waiting eagerly for the men to finish their business, wishing nothing more than to be a part of the discussion.
In your own frustration and excitement, you barely notice Anthony’s returned to the room. Instead of telling you, he is mesmerized by watching you and your sister, smiling fully at the sight of you with a child. He had seen you interact with them before of course, but with the chance to finally have you for himself, Anthony couldn’t help picturing you as a mother and he couldn’t be more pleased with the idea.
Settling down was never something that had been on his mind, especially with romance actually taking part in it. He had always pictured a loveless marriage with many kids and his duties to keep both him and his wife occupied. But never in those images did he picture you as his wife. He pictured you with a prince or someone more worthy of your love, never himself. But the idea wasn’t unpleasant to him, instead it was a great joy to picture.
“Lady y/l/n, might I have a moment?” He asks and you gasp, jumping to your feet out of surprise.
“Yes of course lord Bridgerton.” You smile, your face once again flushed, causing him to stifle a chuckle.
The two of you enter the corridor, where he takes your hand in his. Your breath hitches and your heart is pounding in your chest.
“I have done as you asked. I have made myself look a bit of a fool in your honor, I have done the thing I never once imagined myself doing, and I have fallen in love with you. Love in a marriage has always been a great virtue but I never pictured it for myself until last night. I can see us starting a family, I can see us happy together. Lady y/l/n, y/n, would you allow me to ask for your hand? Your papa has agreed so long as it is in your wishes. I’m sure your mama would agree as well. There would be no greater honor for me.” He finally asks, making you giggle with excitement, real excitement this time.
“Anthony, you are the only man who causes me true and real joy. I know you to be a good and kind man. Yes I will marry you.” You smile, giggling as he hugs you tightly, trying hard to stick to your honor.
“That is good because I did see Lord Ambrose leaving earlier and I must tell you, he is something of a cheat. Cannot be trusted.” He says jealously and you scoff, giggling again.
“I believe I am the one who has you flustered this time, by the way.” He murmurs as you walk back into the drawing room to announce the news to your family.
“I believe that both of us have that challenge covered this time my lord.” You challenge quietly just before you declare your engagement to your family, leaving him both in want of you and puzzled by you all at once, just as both of you know you’ll likely do your whole marriage.
YOU GUYSSSSSSS I can’t believe how popular this fic has gotten, I love you all so much thank you for reading ❤️❤️
Summary: who’d have thought a dance with the Viscount could lead to such shocking revelations?
Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x female!reader
Warnings: none!! Pure fluff!!!
You smoothed down the soft jewel toned dress you wore as your mother grabbed onto your arm, all but dragging you into the ballroom.
An abundance of eyes rested on you but not one pair had your interest. In fact, you were rather appalled by the idea of being traded to one of these lords for just a sizeable dowry.
“Darling, I expect you’ll be polite. Your future husband could be gracing this room with his presence as we speak.” Your mother murmurs in your ear and you force a stiff smile to your lips, taking a deep breath through your nose as you simply nod in response.
As you gracefully trapse down the stairway in lady Danbury’s home, you try your best to pretend you’re nowhere near here, like you’re instead at home, in the drawing room with your family.
“Lady y/l/n, would you care to dance with me?” A young man you barely recognize asks politely, stepping directly in front of you as you reach the bottom step, leaving you with a small height advantage to the man in front of you.
You look to your mama with a pleading look, giving it your all but she simply gives him a wide grin and nods, shooing you off her arm. You on the other hand, would rather hide behind her and grab hold of the entrails of her skirt like a shy child.
You take his hand hesitantly, letting him fill out your dance card with a look of despair, glancing around the grand room for anyone you could possibly recognize. You noticed a few of the Bridgertons gallivanting about, including Eloise, one of your dearest friends. You decided then and there you would make your escape to her soon enough, after one dance with the Lord Norton, as you finally read his name to be. Surely she would come up with a plan to get you out of there in one piece and with no suitors in tow.
The young man grabbed stiff and awkward hold of your hand and waist, making you want to wince though you know your mother would later scold you for it if you did, so you remained of neutral face.
“I have heard you are quite the dancer lady y/l/n. Perhaps you could show me so tonight?” He suggests and you force yet another kind smile and a nod.
“Yes perhaps so.” You say meekly, trying to withhold the frown you wanted to let free.
The song went on for a painfully long time and when it ended, you couldn’t get away fast enough. You pretended to notice someone new and excused yourself, slipping through the crowd of people to the outskirts of the dancefloor where Eloise is standing, watching everything with a disgusted look.
“My thoughts exactly.” You say dryly, moving to stand next to her, happy to slink in the shadows for the remainder of the evening.
“It is dreadful isn’t it, being thrown into the ton like cattle to be bought or won? I mean really, how ladylike is that truly?” Eloise asks you, earning some looks from the surrounding Mamas.
The two of you stand in silence for a minute after that, holding in giggles until they’ve dispersed and forgotten about you.
“My brother is a part of it this year. As are you. I suppose the two of you should form some sort of amicable alliance, protect each other from the upcoming stampede of desperates?” She suggests.
“Careful, my mama may hear you and believe that to mean you’re offering me a Bridgerton husband on a silver platter.” You laugh, giggling along with Eloise. Your laughs quiet down as Anthony himself approaches, as though he sensed his presence in the conversation.
“Have you filled your card so soon Lady y/l/n? A shame, I was to ask you for a dance to rid me of the swarm that seems to follow my every step.” He says with a small grin, making you grow a real smile.
“Perhaps there is room for one more partner, though you’ll have to take my wrist to find out, I realize that comes as a difficulty to you lord Bridgerton.” You tease back, noticing the eyes of lord Norton calling to you. You ignore the patronizing look, instead choosing to further tease the viscount by raising your arm so your dance card dangles right in front of his face, raising a challenging eyebrow to him.
The two of you had been performing this rouse with each other for longer than you could remember. The friendships between your families went back years, long before you or Anthony were even a faint thought and so, you’d known each other quite literally your whole lives. Instead of a fast friendship though, you challenged each other at every event, taking turns teasing the other and leading them to a sort of trap. Typically, whichever of you blushed or flustered easier was the loser of the little game you played.
“Well lord Bridgerton? Will you accompany me to the dance floor, or shall I do something truly improper and heaven forbid request your sister’s company instead?” You grin wickedly, watching him roll his eyes as he gently takes your wrist and tickles your gloved hand with the end, writing his name in the second space.
As the current song falls to an end, you take the Lord Bridgertons hand in yours before he even has the option of taking yours first. He looks slightly shocked for a moment but then smiles mischievously before taking strong hold of your waist, pulling you that much closer to him and earning a small gasp in return.
“Were you not expecting that?” He asks, faking confusion as you shake your head with a laugh.
“You are nothing like these mamas think you are viscount. You’ll likely corrupt their poor young ladies with the most miniscule of grins.” You say cheekily, earning a chuckle from him.
He twirls you around and right back into his chest.
“Perhaps I like being an element of surprise in this traditional stiff game.” He suggests, his own eyebrow raised. You scoff a laugh, getting another eyebrow in return. “Do you find my statement humorous?” He says directly into the shell of your ear.
You turn yourself around, back to his hand in yours and the other resting on the small of your back as you sway.
“Not at all, I merely find it untrue. You are a perfect gentleman, a true nobleman and a good man to your family. You, just as the Duke of Hastings was, are every mamas dream. Good looks, good societal stature. I’m surprised my own mama has not yet thrown me at you herself.” You explain.
“You must have spoken too soon, your mother is hastily making her way to us as we dance.” He smirks back, releasing you from his grasp just as the song comes to an end.
“Y/n!” Your mother hisses, carefully and somehow gracefully storming up to you.
“Yes mama?” You ask sweetly, letting her guide you off to the side, a more private place to chat.
“What on earth are you doing? You are to be meeting potential husbands, not off with the viscount again. You make this same attempt every event. Unless you intend to court him, you must demonstrate your availability to the eligible young men who are truly interested.” She scolds, making you bow your head with a sigh.
“Mama I was being polite. Lord Bridgerton asked me to dance and I obliged out of duty. If I had turned him down, imagine how I would appear to all others!” You insist, coming up with excuses on the spot. She sighs and waves you away, walking off to gossip with Cressidas mama some more.
You groan quietly, carefully making your own way over to the refreshments, grabbing a glass of lemonade and taking a delicate sip.
“Tart is it not?” A voice asks behind you, taking you by surprise.
You turn to find Lady Danbury herself and you smile kindly, letting your shoulders rerelax themselves.
“Yes my lady. I believe it is one of the best batches yet.” You say with a grin, getting one right back from her.
“I noticed you having a beautiful dance with lord Bridgerton. Am I right to assume there may be a flame between the two of you? A viscount is quite the prize to win, I’m sure your family would be proud.” She suggests with a knowing grin.
“Oh! no, no. You should have us mistaken Lady Danbury! The viscount and I are merely old family friends. There is no courtship there.” You chuckled, astonished by the accusation.
“Really? I mean are you sure? Perhaps it is more to him than ‘tis to you but I did see a very particular glimmer in both your eyes as you danced. He shall remain at least a little jealous of the suitors you gain from that little dance.” She smiles, patting a hand over your own thoughtfully.
You, too stunned to speak, simply nod politely and excuse yourself, turning to make your leave and instead bumping right into Anthony Bridgerton himself.
“My apologies.” You mumble, your face flushed as you rush the other way, completely puzzling the man.
You practically all but ran outside, gathering your billowing skirt and making your way through the maze of a garden. Your head felt fuzzy and full, you didn’t know what to think.
“Lady y/l/n!” A familiar voice cries after you.
“Leave me to my thoughts Mr. Bridgerton!” You plead, running a hand over your face.
“Perhaps I may help? Come please… y/n we’ve known each other too long for you to dismiss me in such a manner. What troubles you? Is it the lord Norton, because if it was, I shall have a word with him.” He says, suddenly very protective of your integrity.
You snort again lightly. “Lord Bridgerton it is nothing of the sort! In fact, it is the affections of another that leave me so perplexed.” You sigh, shaking your head as you let out a breath.
“I see… and which gentleman may that be?” He asks, hiding the smidge of jealousy that dares to ring in his voice.
“It is not my place to say. Perhaps he could tell you himself, he is standing in this very garden after all.” You joke, a frown taking its place on your lips.
You laugh stiffly as he turns his head every which way, looking for the man in question.
“Lady y/l/n, there is no other man around… or is it too dark for me to possibly notice him?” Anthony asks, clearly completely clueless to what you’re explaining.
“You! I am referring to you Lord Bridgerton!” You decree, turning round swiftly to meet his wide eyes with your own troubled ones.
He remains silent, staring back at you, mouth agape. Anthony was used to such proclamations from random young women in town however you were no ordinary young woman. You were lady y/l/n. You were the lady he had so admired, so come to love. Since the moment the two of you reached an age where you developed feelings for the other gender, he was enamored by you. There was no other who smiled, laughed, joked or looked at him in such a way as you did and that held his affections more strongly than anything else could.
His inability to speak left you with a deep frown of your own, your lip quivering slightly as you bow your head in embarrassment.
“Very well, I see I was led astray. No need to fret, plenty of suitors anyway so no matter.” You say, your cheeks once again flushed.
He quickly recovers from his own daze at the sight of you turning away from him once again, carefully grabbing your wrist and pulling you back towards him.
“Anthony we should not even be out on our own, with no chaperone in sight… it is improper, you know this.” You say, trying to find any possible way to excuse yourself from the conversation you’d started.
“Just as improper as dropping the formalities before so much as the suggestion of courtship?” He challenges, making you go silent.
“Y/n I have never once denied an attraction to you. Do you truly believe me to be such a fool that I would not see your exquisite beauty?” He asks thoughtfully, catching your attention once again, your lips parted in complete surprise at his words. Your face is crimson without the need for the rouge on your cheeks, and you laugh out of sheer confusion.
“Honestly? Yes, I believed that perhaps your affections are captured by another young lady from the town. Possibly the young opera singer…” You suggest, laughing at your own joke.
“Sienna is… she is important to me yes but I’ve only been with her because I believed you to be promised to another, though I now see your hand is not yet taken.” He hums, smiling lightly at you.
“Lord Bridgerton… I do not have words that could respond to your advances… it seems highly inappropriate.” You say, going to turn away again, breaking the remaining hold his hand has over the cuff of your gloves.
“Y/n please drop the title. I see it as meant for those who do not truly know me however we are both very aware of the fact that you and I know each other perfectly well.” He says, gently lifting your chin to make eye contact with him once again.
“Very well, Anthony. This is highly unlike you. I’ve never seen you lose your proper language and tone before, not at public events anyway.” You state, fully aware of your close proximity to the viscount.
“On the contrary I do like to play the wildcard from time to time. And I regard you in too high a manner to pretend we are nothing less than the normal.” He says, moving in closer to you, taking your breath away.
He continues his approach, making you bite your lip with the widest of eyes, unable to speak.
A moment later you return to your senses, blinking out of your fairytale moment.
“We cannot go any further… not unless you’re prepared to propose.” You say, backing up to build distance.
He continued to stare you down, trying to convince you to return his affections with only a look.
“You should like to paint a picture.” You joke in attempts to lighten the mood.
“Y/n if that is all it takes, I shall marry you in a few months time.” He announces, pulling you into his arms and swinging you around with joy.
“What a very romantic proposal, I may just swoon.” You say sarcastically, laughing as he puts you down with his own perplexed look.
“Whatever do you mean y/n? You asked for a proposal and i obliged.” He says, making you let out a snort.
“You obliged?! As though proposing to take my hand is some sort of duty you are ‘obliged’ to do. When I said proposal I meant a truly proper one. You must ask my father for permission to propose, you must bring flowers and be in the drawing room when we announce it as official.” You explain. “I am shocked you did not think of it, you were so very insistent upon it when it came to your own sister last season.” You scoff.
“If you should truly mean what you are asking, you shall be at y/l/n house tomorrow morning to treat me as the lady I am rather than a common whore you wish to trick. Understood?” You ask before he gets the chance to object your ultimatum.
He gulps and then nods rapidly, afraid to speak in case of offending you or further entangling the web of your relationship, watching you smile back at him and walk away, back to the party and away from him.
——————————————————
The next morning…
The very next morning, all of the eligible ladies of the ton are eagerly waiting for their dukes and viscounts and gentlemen to come calling. The center of London is bustling with activity of carriages, footmen and of course their gentlemen calling on the women they seek.
You are among those not so patiently waiting. Since you’d woken, you were in the drawing room, pretending to be distracted by books and needlepoint but in reality, being completely anxious for the day to come.
After you’d left Anthony and returned indoors, the night was somewhat of a blur. Your thoughts remained on Anthony but your physical presence was there, on the floor, where another gentleman, though much older than the others who seemed to fancy you, had asked for your third dance. You agreed, not wanting to be impolite or for your mother to have reason to invoke her rath.
So, you danced with the lord Gillington, and it was all fine but you held no interest in him, nor in Lord Newton, who apparently was to stop by today as well.
When the third dance ended you faked a headache and feigned fatigue to your mother, who reluctantly agreed. There were other eyes on you and she would have preferred you have at least one more dance but you had done as she asked and that was all she could hope for.
You arrived home early but that wasn’t to say you slept well. You were restless, worrying over the possibilities for the next day. Surely Anthony would never lead you on in a way such as this for your silly little game but there was no certainty there. Still you took comfort in knowing that he was typically a man of his word.
But now, as you sat twiddling with your thumbs, you weren’t so certain. He was as he liked to put it now ‘a wildcard’ when it came to romance and you had never actually attempted such a thing in your relationship.
You ignored your nerves and smoothed down your silky day dress and took yet another deep breath, getting ready to settle back in when one of your staff enter the room. Quickly you rise to your feet.
“A gentleman is here for ms. Y/l/n.” He announces and you smile wide at your mother.
“Send him in then!” She urges, just as excitedly.
He obliges and a minute later a man enters but your face falls as you see its not who you’d hoped.
“Lord Newton.” You greet, pasting as much of a smile as you can muster on your face, taking the delicate bouquet he holds into your own hands and giving them a polite smell.
“Lady y/l/n. You look beautiful, as always.” He greets back, lightly kissing your hand. Your mother looks ecstatic but you couldn’t be less so.
You knew it best to keep your options open but it wasn’t your nature. You were interested in one man and one man alone and it was all his own fault.
“Thank you lord Newton, that’s very kind of you. Would you like to sit?” You ask, sitting back down on the chaise, patting it lightly for him.
He graciously accepts, sitting next to you.
“I have come to ask if you should like to court, lady y/l/n? I do not wish to be too forward however I am quite taken with you my lady.” He states, smiling back at you and you don’t even have to look at your mother to know she’s likely bouncing with joy.
“I-” You start but he is quick to interrupt, something you don’t take kindly to.
“You need not make haste with your decision, I’m aware you will have more suitors throughout the day. I only wish to make my intentions known.” He says, once again kissing your hand. “I shall take my leave. Lady y/l/n. Lady y/l/n.” He says, bowing before walking out the door.
“Oh dearest! That is practically your first proposal! Of many I am certain.” Your mother cheers, hugging you tightly, laughing with joy.
You nod meekly, trying to stay somewhat happy for your mothers sake.
Throughout the day, callers come and go, bearing gifts and kind words nonstop. The room is a festival of colours and chatter and the sweet fragrance of florals everywhere. And yet, no Bridgerton caller had arrived thus far.
“Perhaps Lady Whistledown shall write bright things about our home this week! You are getting plenty of attention from the best of the gentlemen.” Your mama says as the latest of the male callers take their leave.
“Yes perhaps this is true mama.” You say with another smile.
As you take a seat, another caller arrives and you stand yet again with a weak smile, tired of the anticipation of the days end drawing near.
“Lord Ambrose for you my lady.” The staff announces and you smile as you dismiss him.
“Lord Ambrose how delightful to see you.” You greet, taking a seat with him. In that moment, your youngest sister runs into the room, chased by your younger brother.
“Children!” Your mother warns, trying to toss them out of the room.
“It is no bother mama, they may stay. That is if it does not displease you Lord Ambrose?” You ask, turning to him for answer.
“Certainly not, I do love children, it is not a bother at all.” He replies, smiling more at you.
The two of you make chitchat for a while, watching the younger y/l/n children play together happily, passing time surprisingly pleasantly.
“I shall leave, I have had a wonderful afternoon with you my lady. I do hope you’ll consider perhaps courting me this season?” He asks and you feel your smile slipping at yet another sort of proposal.
“Perhaps yes, I shall need some time to consider.” You reply, watching as he accepts the excuse, kisses your hand and leaves.
Your smile falls, watching out the window as the sun falling slowly.
Your eyes dart to the ground when another carriage arrives and you’re quick to sit back down, your mama and your papa, who had just come in from his study, both giving you looks of confusion.
“Another caller I think. We shall see who it is in a moments time.” You grin, hope still heavy in your heart.
Your sister runs over to you and takes a seat next to you, playing with your skirt but you ignore it, watching the doorway intently.
“The viscount Bridgerton is here for you my lady.” He says and your grin grows all the bigger.
“Send him in!” You say with as much eager energy in your voice as your mother had early on.
And so, in walks Anthony, with a large and stunning bouquet of his own and a smile you couldn’t compare to any of the other gifts you’d received today because if you even tried, the rest would never hold a chance.
“My Lord.” You smile, bowing low to him. “I do believe I said this morning.” You tease as you rise, speaking low so your parents cannot hear.
He smiles wider at your cheeky tone. “Yes, I do apologize for the late hour, I had difficulty getting anything appropriate from the florist, so many desperate suitors looking for their own and of course I needed one that could compare to your on beauty though I realize that to be nearly impossible.” He explains and you purse your lips as though thinking whether to believe him or not.
“Lord Bridgerton.” Your mother greets him, bringing your attention to the fact that you are not alone.
“Lady y/l/n, a pleasure. And lord y/l/n, it is an honor to see you again.” Anthony greets both your parents, making your glee spread that much more.
“You as well lord Bridgerton.” Your father says, standing to shake his hand.
“I actually have some matters I’d like to discuss with you my lord. Shall we excuse ourselves?” Anthony asks and your father nods. The men take their leave to the study, your little brother chasing after them, eager to listen in. Your mother tries to stop him but he ignores her and she’s clearly too tired to try anymore.
“Might I ask dearest, what it is that prompted the Viscounts call?” She asks you, raising an eyebrow.
“I believe it was Lady Danbury’s revelations after we shared a dance last night. It would seem his mother and her ladyship have noticed something that myself and Lord Bridgerton have not. Until now that is.” You smile, keeping the true reason a secret for Anthony and yourself to hold tight.
“I see…” She hums unsurely, still going back to her needlepointing rather than investigate any longer.
You remain playing with your younger sister, waiting eagerly for the men to finish their business, wishing nothing more than to be a part of the discussion.
In your own frustration and excitement, you barely notice Anthony’s returned to the room. Instead of telling you, he is mesmerized by watching you and your sister, smiling fully at the sight of you with a child. He had seen you interact with them before of course, but with the chance to finally have you for himself, Anthony couldn’t help picturing you as a mother and he couldn’t be more pleased with the idea.
Settling down was never something that had been on his mind, especially with romance actually taking part in it. He had always pictured a loveless marriage with many kids and his duties to keep both him and his wife occupied. But never in those images did he picture you as his wife. He pictured you with a prince or someone more worthy of your love, never himself. But the idea wasn’t unpleasant to him, instead it was a great joy to picture.
“Lady y/l/n, might I have a moment?” He asks and you gasp, jumping to your feet out of surprise.
“Yes of course lord Bridgerton.” You smile, your face once again flushed, causing him to stifle a chuckle.
The two of you enter the corridor, where he takes your hand in his. Your breath hitches and your heart is pounding in your chest.
“I have done as you asked. I have made myself look a bit of a fool in your honor, I have done the thing I never once imagined myself doing, and I have fallen in love with you. Love in a marriage has always been a great virtue but I never pictured it for myself until last night. I can see us starting a family, I can see us happy together. Lady y/l/n, y/n, would you allow me to ask for your hand? Your papa has agreed so long as it is in your wishes. I’m sure your mama would agree as well. There would be no greater honor for me.” He finally asks, making you giggle with excitement, real excitement this time.
“Anthony, you are the only man who causes me true and real joy. I know you to be a good and kind man. Yes I will marry you.” You smile, giggling as he hugs you tightly, trying hard to stick to your honor.
“That is good because I did see Lord Ambrose leaving earlier and I must tell you, he is something of a cheat. Cannot be trusted.” He says jealously and you scoff, giggling again.
“I believe I am the one who has you flustered this time, by the way.” He murmurs as you walk back into the drawing room to announce the news to your family.
“I believe that both of us have that challenge covered this time my lord.” You challenge quietly just before you declare your engagement to your family, leaving him both in want of you and puzzled by you all at once, just as both of you know you’ll likely do your whole marriage.
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: my bad writing | GIF not mine | English is not my first language
Summary: You are the daughter of the Marquess of Queensberry, and have been a friend of the Bridgertons since birth. After your father allowed you to pursue your studies in France, you return to London to enter society. Upon receiving the news of your return from your father, Lady Bridgerton offers to look after you during this season. You are delighted to be reunited with your friends, confident that your past feelings for Anthony are now gone. But how true that is, you are soon to find out.
You were not nervous. Not at all. You were the epitome of calmness. That is why you could not stop toying with the ribbon around your wrist, or why you were tapping your foot on the marbled floor.
You were calm. Posed, elegant. A perfect lady.
It would have been nice if you could actually believe what you were so desperately trying to tell yourself. Your dear mama, bless her soul, would have fainted if she could have seen the mess you were making of your perfectly styled dress. But you were a lady, and you were calm.
And, most importantly, you were grateful that the butler had stayed silent. If anything, he just gave you a sympathetic look when you loudly gasped as he announced your arrival at the Bridgerton House.
There was no reason to be nervous, so you inhaled as much air as humanly possible, and stepped through the open door.
The first thing you saw was a flash of light blue, and before you could blink twice, Lady Bridgerton was in front of you, smiling fondly.
“My dearest Y/N,” she said, holding both of your hands, “it brings me so much joy to see you after all of these years.”
You breathed. This part was easy; it came to you like second nature to delicately wrap your arms around the woman who had been to you nothing less than a mother. “Lady Bridgerton, it is a pleasure to finally be here again.”
“Now, dearest, you know you must call me Violet,” she reminded you with the same sweet voice she used when you were a child, “we are family, after all.”
You bowed your head.
Family. That is what the Bridgertons were to you. And speaking of, you could not help but notice the absence of all of them.
“Where is everyone?” you asked, looking around the room.
“I thought it best not to call them this morning until you arrived. I wanted it to be a surprise.”
You nodded, taking a seat next to Lady Bridgerton. Everything was so familiar in this place, although most of your childhood was spent at Aubrey Hall, and you could not help but relax. You had loved your time in France, but returning home was a feeling so warm and overwhelming that it had managed to ease all of your nervousness for the upcoming season.
“I take France has been a lovely time?”
“Most wonderful. My tutors were incredibly patient with me and my studies proceeded well. Although, I must say I have missed you all.”
The door opened with a loud bang and you saw Gregory and Hyacinth making their way inside the room, fighting over something you did not quite catch.
“Children! Where are your manners? You must be on your best behaviour in front of our guest,” Lady Bridgerton said, amusement colouring her voice.
“Y/N!” both Hyacinth and Gregory shouted, immediately running to you. They had grown up so much in the three years you had been away, you could hardly believe that they were not the two little children of your memories.
You hugged them both, telling them how much you had missed them. Their shouts must have alerted the other Bridgertons because one by one they started filling the room. Benedict was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes when he noticed you, his younger siblings wrapped around you. Colin had wanted to share notions of his travels with you, seeming completely enraptured by your tales of France. Eloise could not stop asking you about your studies, what had you been reading, what did you think about modern political issues concerning women, and utterly expressing her frustration and envy at the fact that your father had allowed you to study while she was forced to go hunt for an eligible husband. Francesca was just as polite as you remembered and she made you promise to practice with her on the pianoforte.
In the middle of your reunion with the Bridgertons, you almost missed Anthony standing frozen at the door, disbelief written all over his face upon seeing you entertaining his siblings with your stories of France. When you noticed him, you shot him an amused smile.
“What is the meaning of this?” Anthony said looking at you and then at his mother. “Is it not custom anymore to inform first the head of the household of the arrival of a new guest?”
You laughed, hearing the amusement in his voice. You got up and walked towards Anthony, deciding once again that you were calm. Nothing was happening inside of you. Absolutely nothing.
“Hush now, brother,” said Benedict.
Anthony met you halfway through the room and you lightly bowed your head. “My Lord,” you said shooting him a playful glance, “I hope my unexpected arrival is not met with your disapproval.”
“I guess forgiveness might still be granted,” he sighed tilting his head to the side feigning annoyance. “With the right price, of course,” he added.
Eloise groaned in the back, “you two are gross”.
You could not help but laugh, “and what could possibly be that the Viscount wants from me?”
Anthony smiled at you. He was done joking, you could tell how happy and pleased he was to see you. You could have pointed out the small flip your heart did inside your chest, but you ignored it. It seemed there was a lot you were going to ignore when it came to Anthony Bridgerton.
“Why, but a hug.” And before you realised it, you were between his arms, your head gently pressed to his chest. You could not help but inhale deeply, because you could ignore almost anything, but you certainly could not ignore how much you had missed him. And perhaps your heart was now pounding in your chest, perhaps your throat felt tighter and you could not quite well inhale enough air. Perhaps your stomach became an intricate knot and your skin was burning you alive. And perhaps you had been a fool, thinking that three years in France would have removed any feeling you might have possibly harboured for the Viscount, but when you took a step back nothing of what was going on inside you was showing on your face.
You were going to ignore it all. And perhaps, you were going to ignore how the Viscount’s hand had brushed ever so lightly on the bare skin of your back when you pulled away. Perhaps, you were going to ignore the sharp intake of breath he took when you had rested your head on him. You were more than certain you were going to ignore how his fingers brushed your arms before falling back to his side.
Yes, you were going to ignore it all, for if there was one thing in this world you could not allow yourself to do, it was falling back in love with Anthony Bridgerton.
And so, you stayed calm.
***
The evening of your first ball since your return to England had finally come. Lady Danbury was hosting this ball to celebrate your reunion and your father had informed you earlier that day that the Queen would be attending. You supposed it should have come to no surprise considering that both women had been close with your mother, the late Marchioness.
“Maybe we can still find a way out of this dreadful situation.”
You turned around to look at Eloise wrestling with her dress and fidgeting around her gloves. You chuckled, “I am afraid one does not say no the Queen.”
“One could fake an illness or faint on the dance floor,” she muttered making Benedict laugh.
“Must you always be so much fun at every ball, sister?”
You shook your head and left the two Bridgertons arguing to themselves. To be completely honest, you were starting to feel nervous, and you regretted drinking that lemonade earlier. It was exhausting having to join meaningless conversations with men who had clearly no interest in your studies and with women who had too much interest in your private affairs.
“Lady Y/N, the Queen summons you.”
At last, the time had come. You made your way to where the Queen and Lady Danbury were standing, your heart sinking into your stomach. When you stood in front of the two women, you bowed deeply in sign of respect.
“My Queen, it is an honour to be back in England and in your presence,” you said with all the grace and sweetness your voice could manage. “Lady, Danbury, I am most grateful for the ball. Your kindness humbles me.”
The Queen smiled at you, and your worries disappeared. You had her favour still.
“Come, child. I want to hear everything about your trip.”
***
“I could not help but notice you are not dancing.”
You smiled, no need to turn around. You could have recognised that voice in the middle of a maze, at midnight, blindfolded. The way your chest would alight upon hearing that voice, the way the sound would carry its weight right into your heart and deep inside you, making you feel heavy and light at the same time, were all signs that you had learned to recognise with time.
“I am afraid I have not found anyone worthy of my time,” you replied.
You knew your mother would have wanted you to find a love match, or at the very least a comfortable marriage, but truth be told you were not looking for either. Your father had other plans for you when it came to marriage, and as for you, you swore off love years ago.
Anthony smiled at you, standing at your side. “I take you have not missed any of this?”
You looked around the room, at all those people dressed in fancy clothes, dancing and talking, some of them hoping to secure a future for themselves. You watched them from distance, as you have always done. The dynamics of society never really concerned you. Your father had made sure that you would be provided for well before your birth. Your life was secure in a way many of these people envied. You had no need for a husband, you had never really needed to fit in. The Queen had treated you like a protege since childhood, a favour to your mother. All you ever desired was to find your freedom and your place in the world. You had found the first, but you were far away from achieving the second.
“I suppose I have not, not really. I was never much of dancer,” you replied at last.
Anthony hummed and stepped in your line of vision, extending his hand towards you. “I remember differently from when we were children. Allow me to have this dance, Lady Y/N.”
And so, once again, you were a turmoil of emotions, desperately trying to tell yourself that you were imagining everything. You nodded your head, not really trusting your voice. Taking Anthony’s hand, you both stepped in the dance floor. His hand found its place in the centre of your back while the other held yours firmly.
“You are right, in a way,” you told him while spinning around the room. The way he would catch your body back to his was making it very difficult to concentrate on your steps. Your bodies were gravitating around each other, being pulled back together like a magnet.
Anthony cocked his head to the side, a curious glint in his eyes. You continued, “you are quite right, my Lord. We danced together a great deal in our youth. However, I never really enjoyed dancing, not even as a child, unless it was with you.”
You felt his grip on your back tighten and you could swear Anthony took a sharp intake of air. His hand was so firmly pressed against you that you soon found yourself dangerously close to him. The dancing pace had quickened and you were soon out of breath, yet you knew that the reason had little to do with the dancing itself. Anthony was silent, he was looking at you in the eyes, not allowing you to look anywhere but him. On the rare occasions that his eyes would move, it would be lower, and you had to fight the urge to whimper when you found him staring at your lips.
Breathing was becoming almost impossible. You had to get away from him. And really, you only had yourself to blame for the situation you were in. Three years spent in France trying to forget the very fact that your soul was consumed to its very core from the love you had for Anthony Bridgerton had not been sufficient enough. You had wasted all of your efforts and all it took was one dance. All of your talks of freedom, of independence, all was being washed away but the same feeling that caused you to flee.
You could not take it anymore, and so when the dance finally came to an end, you swiftly bowed to him and ran away in the most contained and gracious way you could manage. You did not stop when he called your name, nor when Eloise did the same. You had to get out of there because any minute spent around Anthony was another minute your heart would spend harbouring hopes of a future together. Hopes that you could not allow yourself to have. You were the only heir your father had, the family line was going to die with you. And so, your father had allowed the freedom and the independence you had always desired. As his only heir, you were to be Marchioness of Queensberry. But you could not marry or you would lose your title.
You could either marry Anthony Bridgerton and become his Viscountess or you could become the head of your own household and be Y/N, Marchioness of Queensberry.
Perhaps France had not been a far enough place for you to run to to get rid of these feelings. Although, you doubted there was a corner in this world you could go to where your soul did not long to be with Anthony, where your heart would ever stop loving him.
***
Dear Gentle Reader,
as I am sure you are aware, Lady Y/N of Queensberry has made her return to England and was present at yesterday night’s ball. For those of you who don’t remember, three years ago the young Marchioness left the country to pursue her studies in France. The reason behind such a decision is to most obscure, but not to this author. In fact, as the only heir of the Marquess of Queensberry, Lady Y/N has been schooled on matters of the estate, on top of the duties of a household. Nothing has been confirmed, but this author wonders whether certain traditions might finally come to an endand if indeed Lady Y/N is to become the new Marchioness. And now, dearest reader, I must inform you of what I am sure has been duly noted by many members of the ton. Lady Y/N, noted friend of the esteemed Bridgertons, was seen dancing with no one less than the Viscount himself. You must agree with me that the two did make quite the couple, and this author wonders if perhaps we are in the presence of what might very well be the most heartbreaking story of the season. Rest assured, dear reader, that I shall uncover the details.
Yours, Lady Whistledown
***
“Y/N? Are you listening to me?” Eloise was waving a hand in your face while you were all enjoying the sunshine in the park. You were lost in your own thoughts and had not heard a single word she said.
“I am sorry, Eloise, what were you saying?” You asked, shaking your head to get rid of your thoughts. It had been five days since the ball and you had managed to avoid Anthony with great success. Your father had joined you in London the day after the ball so you could assist him in his work. Focusing on your duties and responsibilities made it a lot easier to avoid Anthony but when the Bridgertons had asked you to join them for an afternoon stroll in the park you could not refuse. You finally had a chance to catch up with Daphne about her life and tried your best to avoid Anthony’s gaze.
“So, is it true what Lady Whistledown has written about you? You are to be Marchioness?” Eloise asked again.
You nodded, “indeed. Although, there is still much to learn before anything really happens.”
“That is quite lovely my dear,” Lady Bridgerton said with a small smile, although you couldn’t help but notice a hint of sadness in her eyes. “I cannot help but wonder what will happen when you finally find love.”
“Whatever do you mean, mother?” Benedict asked. You knew very well what Lady Bridgerton was asking and you finally understood the sadness you spotted in her eyes. She was worried about you.
“I cannot imagine many gentlemen who would marry a woman who is in charge of her own land,” Lady Bridgerton said.
“Then they would be a fool,” came Anthony’s reply. You forced yourself to not look at him in the eyes.
You sighed, “do not worry, Lady Bridgerton. I do not think it will pose any threat.” When you were met with confused looks, you continued explaining, “the conditions of my inheritance is that I will not marry. If I have to become Marchioness that shall be on my own and not through marriage.”
Lady Bridgerton gasped, “you cannot mean that. But what about love?”
You finally turned towards Anthony. He looked like someone had just punched all the air out of him. He opened his mouth to say something and then immediately closed it. He didn’t know what to say, but then again, what does one say when the person whom you have loved your entire life just told you they are never to be married?
“What about it? She’ll have something much better than that. She’ll have her independence,” replied Eloise.
“Yeah, I suppose I will,” you said sadly.
***
You were enjoying some lemonade, looking at all the people dancing. Throughout the years, when the other ladies where being taught how to dance gracefully and you were learning how to manage your estate, you had grown fond of being a spectator. You had learned how to recognise the look of true joy, to spot if a gentleman was interested in a young lady and if she had any feelings towards him. You had known from the very start that love would have no part in your life, so you learned how to live love through people.
Your father had been so scarred by the death of you beloved mama that he vowed you would never have to go through the same pain. And so, he had given you something many ladies wished for but could never have: your freedom. In return, you had given up love. You had set to France hoping to get rid of your feelings for the Viscount, wishing that distance could take them all away, so that you could become the Marchioness you were always meant to be. But now you knew how foolish you had been to even think that. Your feelings had resurfaced the moment your eyes met Anthony’s. They bursted into your heart and set it alight consuming you to your very core. And all was left behind was heartbreak and ashes.
“Is it true, then?”
You didn’t turn around, you already knew who it was. “Is what true, my Lord?”
“You are to be Marchioness?” Anthony asked you. This time you looked at him. His jaw was set, his posture rigid. Why did he look like he was the one in pain? And why did that make you feel hopeful?
“I am indeed, my Lord,” you answered him. You didn’t really know what he wanted you to say that he didn’t already know.
He nodded, “very well.” Then, he moved in front of you, just like he always used to do when he wanted to shield you from everyone else, the very same action that had always made you feel you were his and his alone. “May I have a last dance, Lady Y/N?”
You inhaled sharply. “My Lord?” You asked confused. Last dance? You had no idea what he meant by that. But Anthony offered you no explanation, he simply took your hand in the most delicate and loving way. Your heart melted, you did not care that it was probably inappropriate to take hold of a lady’s hand, all you cared about was the soft brush of his thumb against your skin. Everything inside you was burning. The world was empty but from him and you, and you were burning.
You started dancing. It was slow, it was intimate, it was painful. Every time he had to let you go, you could see the pain in his eyes. And every time you came back in his arms, he pulled you closer, like he never wanted to let you go. You felt Anthony’s hands gripping your waist, leaving a mark behind. You felt the heat through the fabric of your dress and you had never wished for the contact of his skin like you were now. Breathing was becoming a hard task.
“I guess this is why you never concerned yourself to dance with anyone else but me.” You were not expecting him to speak, nor to sound so broken.
You looked at him in the eyes, not even feeling offended at his slight accusation. “I dance only with you because you are the only one I want to dance with.”
He spun you around so that your back was firmly pressed to his chest. Then he lowered his head, and his lips brushed your ear ever so softly when he whispered “and why is that?”
Before you could turn around, the dance was over and Anthony was making his way out of the room. You were left there, breathing heavily, with your stomach scrunched in pain, empty and broken. Your father would be sad knowing that you had felt the pain of heartbreak long before you even knew what love was and that the very thing he had tried to shield you from was the thing that was already destroying you. But what your father could never figure out was that that pain, that crushing feeling of not being able to be with the person you loved, it was all worth it. Love was worth the pain, the burning. Anthony was worth every tear, every heartbreak because he was the person that had always cheered you up, the person you would go to whenever you were sad, the person who loved you dearly, of that you were now sure, and the person you had loved since you were old enough to know what love was.
He was worth the pain, he was worth more than your title. And so, you ran after him.
***
You found him on the terrace, his head lowered down, his shoulders visibly tense. He looked in pain and the sight broke your heart a little.
“Why did you say a last dance?” You announced yourself by asking him the question that had been plaguing you.
Anthony chuckled but there was no mirth in it. He shook his head, looking at the starry sky. “I cannot dance with you again.”
You took a step closer to him, “and why is that?”
Anthony rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed, turning around to face you. “Because it is too much of a torment. One that I cannot endure anymore.”
“I had no idea dancing with me would cause you so much torment, my Lord,” you said through a broken voice and tears that threaten to run down your face. “Rest assured, it is not my intention to hurt you any longer. You shall be free from your torment.”
“What are you implying?” His voice hardened, but whether it was from hurt or anger, you did not know. Anthony was now in front of you, his eyes frantically looking for yours.
You gulped, “I shall return to my estate in Scotland. I have no business in London seeing as I am in no need of a husband. You will never have to dance with me again.”
“You cannot do this.” Anthony grabbed your arm and you could no longer hold your tears. “You cannot leave again.”
You looked at his pleading eyes, at the fear that lied behind them, it was for you cause of immense pain. Perhaps this was the right thing to do. You came here to tell Anthony that you loved him, that your title meant nothing, and now you were in the middle of doing the opposite. It was for the best, you told yourself through the sobs. You could not disappoint your father. It did not matter that you would never know what it was like to be utterly and completely loved. It could not matter.
“Please,” Anthony whispered, “do not leave me again. These past three years have been so difficult, all I could think about was seeing you back here. Back with me.”
You shook your head, anger rising. “I do not understand. I thought I caused you torment?!”
Anthony squeezed your arm and rested his head on your shoulder, inhaling deeply. You felt his nose brush your neck and your heart skipped several beats. “It is the love I have for you that torments me so.”
“Anthony, I-“
“Y/N,” he spoke your name softly, hesitantly, almost scared. He said it so quietly and you were immediately drunk on the way it had sounded from his lips. “Being so close to you and not being able to kiss you,” his other hand now grabbed your waist, leaving hot marks on your skin, “to hug you, to make you mine in all the ways a man can make a woman his,” he continued, placing his lips to your ear and breathing in your scent, “it torments me. It is crushing my very soul.”
You were breathing hard, almost panting. Your head was hurting, you could not think. Everything around you was a blur and all that existed was the man who was gripping your waist as if you were the only anchor in the ocean that could save him. All you could feel was Anthony’s lips brushing against your skin, so close that you could feel little sparkles and yet so far from where you really wanted them. Your world was on fire, and Anthony had been the one to set it aflame.
“Anthony, please-”
“But I am a gentleman, and I cannot,” he said tearing himself away from you, “I will not take away your freedom, your title.”
You shook your head with vigour and this time it was you who grabbed his arm. “Don’t,” you whispered, “don’t take away my freedom by choosing for me.”
Anthony was refusing to meet your eyes so you tugged on his jacket, “I love you, Anthony Bridgerton. And I have done so since the very first time you asked me to dance with you.”
You were now crying. Silent sobs were shaking your body and your head was pounding so hard that you could hardly stand up. Anthony finally met your eyes and brushed away your tears. You smiled, wishing that you could show him how much he had always meant to you. But here you were, crying on the terrace and no idea on how to fix the situation you were in. You loved the Viscount, but did the Viscount love you?
“I do,” Anthony said, reading the silent question in your eyes. “I am tormented by my feelings for you, by the fear that I will be taking away from you much more than what I will be able to give you in return. But I love you, every day more than each passing one. With all of my heart, my soul is yours.”
And then he kissed you. Slowly, like you expected him to do. Because Anthony had always been careful with you, always making sure you were comfortable and happy with him. He had a way of touching you, almost as if he was touching a diamond, as if he wanted to worship you, cherish you. You kissed him back through your salty lips, anchoring yourself to him. His lips were soft and warm and you never wanted him to stop. You needed him to never stop.
You let out a small sigh, almost a moan, and it was all it took for Anthony to groan into your mouth and completely devour your very essence. He was everywhere, in your hair, on your waist, touching your back, caressing your face, pushing you closer and closer to him. He was consuming you, and you had no objection to it.
“Anthony,” you sighed while trying to breathe in as much air as you could. He was smiling at you, so bright and beautiful, and you could swear that in that moment there was no title, no duties to honour, just the love that you two shared.
You laughed, finally happy. “I choose you, Anthony Bridgerton.”
“What about your position?” He asked.
“I will deal with my Father when the time is due. For now,” you said resting your head on his shoulder, completely at peace, “for now, I choose you.”
Anthony kissed the top of your head and embraced you. The two of you stayed like this for a very long time, long enough for Benedict to find you, still embraced, still in love with each other, still so happy. You would both worry about the future tomorrow. Because you were determined to keep your position as Marchioness and marry the man you loved. You had made your choice and the world was going to respect it, one way or the other.
a/n: I really wanted to write someone new and Bridgerton is the current hyperfixation so enjoy the possible inaccuracies lol. But also look at his hands in that gif, oh my god
summary: you drink some of Benedict’s special tea and now Benedict must take care of you until the effects wear off. With such a tea in your system, you can’t help but bring up some truths you’ve been hiding and Benedict is right there to comfort you.
word count: 2.1k
The Bridgerton’s lounged in the drawing room as they usually did when the days lulled and the invitations had yet to arrive. Spending their day doing various activities that they had been taught from an early age.
Benedict leaned closer to Colin, whispering feverishly as you walked into the room, going unnoticed by your husband or anyone else as they were all immersed in their own business.
Your brows furrow, smile amused as you take in your husband’s excited expression whilst Colin grows more weary by the moment, his eyes glancing between Benedict and their mother.
Looking away you notice a cup of tea of a precarious color sitting idly next to Benedict’s sketchbook. Having just gotten back to the home, you were rather parched yourself. Glancing at Benedict you see him still deep in conversation with Colin, obviously trying to convince him of something.
Not thinking your husband would mind you taking a bit of his tea, you take hold of the cup and bring it to your lips. Your face twisted and screwed up at the taste of perhaps the most awful tea you had ever tasted in your entire life. It had the strangest texture as well. You knew how Benedict preferred his tea but perhaps he wanted to try something new. And perhaps that is why the cup appeared to be basically untouched. But despite the taste, it satiated your desperate need for a drink, so you continued to swallow it down.
It only took a few moments before two loud gasps sounded out throughout the quiet room and both Benedict and Colin shouted your name.
“Don’t drink that!” They both followed with as they came rushing over to you. You choke on the drink from the sudden noise before carefully setting it back down, clearing your throat, and watching with wide eyes as the brothers came to stand before you. Your eyes locked onto Benedict’s shocked expression.
“I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t think you’d mind. It is just tea,” you explain, brows furrowed, motioning toward the drink.
“Yes, brother. You’re married now. I think it’s about time you learn to share,” Eloise called out from her spot in the room, book in hand. Benedict took a moment to glare at his sister from over his shoulder before his eyes fell back on you, the look in them more concerned now than shocked. He took a step closer.
“It’s not just tea, my love,” Benedict explained, a grin threatening to pull at the corner of his lips. You inhale sharply, placing a hand on your stomach to center yourself.
“Then what is it?!” You ask, a bit too loud, your head jerking to the side to look down at it. Benedict and Colin are quick to shush you, bringing your attention back to them. You look at them expectantly, wondering what it is exactly you just drank.
“Um…” the brothers say together, sending each other dubious looks. Your brows furrow, eyes moving between them. Worry began churning your stomach the longer they hesitated.
“Is it medicine?” You ask, needing any answer they’ll give at this point. “It certainly tasted as foul as medicine often does,” you add, pursing your lips in disgust at the memory of that awful taste. Benedict’s lips pull down into a pursed frown, often a sign he was attempting to hold back his laughter. Which only caused you to grow even more confused.
Benedict quickly took notice of your expression and his features softened. He moved over to your side, wrapping an arm around your waist and tucking you firmly against him, sending down a soft smile.
“Yes, dear, some may describe it as medicinal,” he explains lightly, causing Colin to snort and his mother to scold him for it. You look to Colin, not understanding what was so funny. This had begun to grow frustrating and you were feeling stranger as the minutes ticked on.
“Well will it harm me?” You question a little more firmly, raising a brow at Benedict. His mouth drops open but nothing comes out. He hesitates, appearing to not know what to say.
“No, but I think it wise you two spend the evening alone and away from prying eyes,” Colin interrupts, and when you look to him you see him sending you a punctuated look before doing the same to Benedict.
Benedict’s face lights up as understanding washes over him. They both seem to glance at the family before Colin nods at his brother and turns around to go back to his book and acting as if nothing had just happened. You wait for Benedict to explain. Anything really.
“Benedict, what’s happening?” You whisper desperately, trying to blink back a forming cloud in your mind. Your husband looks down at you, noticing your pupils slowly growing in size. His hand squeezes your waist as he starts guiding you two out the door, his focus remaining on you and his eyes and the firm hand on your body is the only thing grounding you at the moment.
“Come along now, darling wife. I’ll explain everything in the privacy of our quarters,” he offers, his voice starting to slur and slow down. You briefly wonder if he had gotten any of the tea as a lightness threatens to fill your body.
Benedict had just enough time to explain the tea, what was in the tea, and what the powder in the tea meant for you before you were completely out of it.
“Benny!” You squealed, wiggling around in his lap. After a lot of running around, giggling, and crashing into things, Benedict had finally managed to calm you down enough to get you into his lap. You had been staring out the window, eyes wide for a good fifteen minutes as he sat his sketchbook in your lap and started drawing before you suddenly cried out.
“Yes, my sweet?” He asked, not looking away from the sketch of you he had started whilst you were dazed. You frown, much preferring his attentions on the real you. Leaning closer to him, you start leaving open-mouth kisses all over his face. His brows jump in surprise and a smile threatens his lips but he doesn’t much react.
“I wanna play with you,” you whisper between kisses and giggles as thoughts of how his scruff tickles or how his skin smells of sweets fill your head without permission. This time your comment forces out a short bit of laughter from Benedict. He finally looks away from his drawing, setting it down on a table to watch you, extremely amused.
“Really now? I didn’t know the tea would bring such impropriety out of you,” he muses, grin wide and eyes sparkling as he watches you nuzzle against his face. You pulled away as his words slowly started to connect and you giggled at their implication.
“Not what I meant, Benedict!” You shouted through your laughter. A heaviness suddenly pulled at your heart and your smile dropped, laughter quickly ceasing. The sudden shift in mood made your world feel off its axis and you clutched Benedict’s collar to steady yourself. “Jus’ wanted to be close to you. Always s’busy now…” you hear yourself saying though you don’t remember allowing the words to pass through.
Yes, you had grown a bit lonely, but Benedict loved what he was doing and you wouldn’t take it away from him simply because you wanted more attention. You had sworn to yourself you wouldn’t say anything but it seems this tea had loosened your lips.
Benedict’s amusement drained from his face. His features softened as he looked over you, his hands pulling you further up his lap and closer to his chest.
“Oh, my sweet love, I apologize. I know I’ve been busy as of late,” he starts lowly, sincerity bleeding through his tone. A hand moves up to cup your cheek, his thumb swiping across your cheekbone. “You don’t deserve fleeting moments of passion, you deserve my time, my life. As my world you deserve everything and as your husband it is my job to provide it for you,” he expresses, passion and determination clear in his every word.
Some part of you past the cloud of fog in your mind wants to cry in relief at his declaration and have a deeper conversation about this. But another part of you, one that currently has much more control, can’t take his words seriously. Though your husband has always had a silver tongue, you knew his truth sat with his actions.
“Dear husband, how generous you are,” you said with clear sarcasm, making a show of being as dramatic as possible. Benedict lets out a few breathless laughs, his eyes narrowing as he looks at you.
“Well, I do try,” he spoke through clenched teeth and a wide smile as his hands snaked down to your stomach. His fingers pressed into your skin as he began tickling you.
You squealed, back arching in a number of directions as you tried to move away from his torturous grasp. All the while uncontrolled laughter poured out from your lips. Benedict laughed with you, delighted to see you so freely laughing. His heart ached as he tried to remember the last time he had made you laugh.
“B-Benedict! B-Ben-Benedict stop it!” You gasped brokenly as you attempted to speak through your laughter. Benedict raised a brow, head tilting slightly, his hands still working against your stomach.
“What would you suggest I do instead, love?” He questioned, thinking there was no better sight than your smile, no better sound than your laughter. He couldn’t imagine anything greater than to continue this.
“Find something to amuse yourself,” you demanded, your breath harsh. Your stomach had begun to ache but you couldn’t deny it felt brilliant to laugh this much. In an instant his fingers had ceased their movement. You slouched against him, taking in deep breaths of air.
But it didn’t last long as two hands were soon after holding your face and guiding you to a familiar pair of lips. Just as you had gotten your breath back, Benedict kisses you, taking it all away again. He swallows your sound of surprise, moving his lips against yours, passionately and languidly. You quickly caught up, pressing your body against his, your hands clutching his shoulders as your lips worked as a team, kissing each other deeply as if discovering each other again for the first time.
When you broke apart you were both breathless, heavy breaths mingling together. You smiled, eyes flickering over his features. You noticed Benedict appearing to do the same. The awed and dazed look in his eye made your heart race. You both remained silent as you gazed upon each other, a pleasant hum buzzing throughout your body. Benedict spoke after a few long moments.
“Beautiful is not word enough to describe you,” he said softly, a small smile greeting you. You mirrored it, resting your cheek against one of the hands that still held your face. Benedict’s smile slowly disappeared as a thought came to him. “I know my words come easy, but I swear, I give you all my time from now on. Until you grow sick of me and command me away, I am yours. All of me,” he says, his words flowing fiercely and with strong passion. Your eyes narrow playfully as you move closer to him.
“Do you promise?” You whisper. Amusement sparks through his expression and he grins wide.
“I promise, dear,” he promises softly, sending you a light nod in confirmation as his hands move down to hold your waist. You start to nod along with him, becoming hypnotized by the moment. He chuckles quietly in response. The sound makes you jerk back, blinking rapidly.
Your blank gaze moves away from him for a moment as you look around the room suspiciously, eyes still narrowed. When your eyes fall back on him, they widen a bit in surprise. But then you’re curling a finger, signaling for him to draw closer. Benedict follows your silent order and leans in.
“Don’t tell Benedict but I don’t believe I could ever grow tired of him. I cherish him too dearly, you see,” you whisper, explaining everything softly and conspiratorially. Benedict purses his lips as he attempts to hold back his laughter. He eventually manages a firm nod and a serious expression before he speaks.
“I promise I won’t say a word,” he swears, hand placed over his heart. You giggle, your face lighting up as you rest back against him, head laying on his shoulder. Benedict smiles, kissing your forehead tenderly before picking up his sketchbook and continuing his drawing of you as you toyed with one of his golden buttons.
new sunday tradition | Anthony Bridgerton x reader
summary | reader gets Anthony to help her cook even though he never knew she loved to cook
paring | Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader
request|loved ur recent fic! idk if requests are open but I would love one with Anthony and fem!Y/N teaching him how to cook bc no matter your gender or social status y/n thinks cooking is a foundational skill :)
includes | husband!Anthony and just cute moments between reader and Anthony
word count | 1.1K+
a/n | I really hope I made this as cute and fluffy as this request should be. thank you anon for this request, it was too cute imagining Anthony doing this. hope you enjoy this fic! (gif not mine!)
“Please, Anthony. Just give it a try?” y/n asked with a spoon in her hand toward her husband who stood crossed armed wearing one of her flora aprons she had begged him to wear.
and now I see daylight | Benedict Bridgerton x reader
Paring | Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader
Request|omg can i request benedict bridgerton with taylor swift song ‘Daylight’ please
What To Expect | Benedict being so in love with reader, some Bridgerton sibling banter, Eloise is friends with the reader and Taylor Swift lyrics ( listen to Daylight here!)
Word Count | 2.1K
Author’s Note | keep the Bridgerton boys x Taylor Swift song request coming loves!! I really loved writing this one and I’ve come to the conclusion Benedict would be a Lover stan. hope you all enjoy this cute little fic! (not my gif!)
Tag List|@evqans (reply to be added to the tag list!)
There are so many lines that I’ve crossed unforgiven\ I’ll tell you the truth, but never goodbye
Benedict Bridgerton did not think he would settle down so fast. Then again, after watching his eldest brother fall for Kate, something he thought was impossible, Benedict should have known the same faith was laid out for him.
The moment he had seen her, everything seemed to make sense. Every song that played made him want to dance with y/n. Every love poem he read made a warm feeling settle within him because it reminded him of her. Every sketch or painting he made always led back to y/n.
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
Warnings:allusions to smut but no actual smut,a game of pall mall is afoot and you and benedict enjoy being blissfully married little shits while you play, kate is the sister-in-law of your dreams and you will happily meddle to make it happen (these warnings have basically become my summaries at this point)
A/N:I couldn’t resist writing something altogether playful for my man Benedict. With the overwhelming response to the last two Bridgerton fics and somehow being at the top of both Anthony’s and Benedict’s x reader tag, I could not be more grateful nor more inspired to deliver more content to you all! I hope you enjoy this one just as much <3
—
You watched Benedict hit yet another shot off target with a prominent frown on your features. Colin raised an eyebrow at you in question and you shook your head at him with as much subtlety as you could muster, wandering over to your husband with gentle footsteps against the grass. You slid you hand across his back as a greeting, feeling the tension coiled around the muscles through his thin white shirt.
“I know you have much to think about at present, my love, but do try not to embarrass me with your terrible game,” you teased, grinning up at him to ensure he did not take your words to heart. Whilst he let out a small chuckle as he shook his head at your words, they did not have the desired effect of calming him significantly.
“I should think you are grateful it is not a team game,” he murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple that only served to deepen your frown. It was exactly this form of reserved affection that indicated his mood, knowing that a perfectly contented Benedict would have no issue taking you in his arms in front of his entire family and sweeping you off your feet time and time again.
“It would be a sign of madness for them not to accept you, you know. You usually find much comfort in afternoons such as these with your family, I hate to see you distracted so.”
He tilted his head in understanding, a soft smile on his lips at last, even if it felt as if he was only doing so to placate you. Placing a finger under your chin, he lifted your face to his, kissing you with a delicacy that was always present in his touch.
“I find the utmost comfort in you, my angel. I promise I will not let my preoccupation stop me from besting my brothers a moment longer,” he sealed his promise with yet another kiss, longer than the last, fingers gripping your chin with more urgency. When you pulled away, you pushed up on your toes to kiss his nose, rubbing your own against his immediately afterwards as you tried to contain your adoration for him.
“I believe it is me you should be concerned with besting,” you mused, turning away from him with a wink as you strolled up to your ball, crouching briefly to line up your shot with appropriate care, “I have no intentions of losing.”
“Is that so?”
Ignoring his words briefly, with your shot lined up, you swung your arms back and followed through to hit your ball, watching as it bounced once, twice, and sailed through the hoop. You turned to see Benedict staring in shock, but you simply leaned on your mallet with a shrug in an attempt to play down your bubbling excitement.
“Indeed. Had you not realised how greatly I have improved since our last game?”
The secret hours you had spent practising with Eloise so that the two of you could be far more formidable opponents this year were not to be mentioned, or you knew your sister-in-law would have your head.
“No I had not,” he said lowly, sliding an arm around your waist as the two of you walked to join the rest of the group who were just ahead, watching Daphne line up her own shot, “Would it be wrong of me to suggest that your newfound pall mall prowess encourages me to abandon our game entirely in the pursuit of…other pleasures?”
He punctuated his question with a harsh squeeze to your waist, one that had the two of you giggling as you joined the rest of your family. Colin met your eye, a silent check on the state of his brother and you gave him a small nod. He smiled in return and you considered yourself lucky that your husband’s family trusted you to look after him so.
“Something funny the two of you care to share with the rest of us?” Anthony asked you, looking the picture of frustration as he had all afternoon, “I do hope the delight you take in each other does not effect your ability to play.”
“Do not worry yourself on our account, Anthony,” you said, speaking up before anyone had the chance to defend the two of you. It was only right that you and Benedict defend yourselves, especially when trading petty insults with the Viscount had become one of your favourite joint pastimes as of late, “Upon which distraction would you like to blame your poor form?”
Eloise and Colin exchanged looks of amusement, whilst Daphne beside you openly laughed at her brother, much to his chagrin. When you and Benedict glanced at each other out of the corner of your eyes, there was pride in his gaze that warmed you inside out.
“Why, Miss Sharma provides such excellent company, focusing on the task at hand becomes quite the strain,” Anthony said, and you watched as Miss Edwina looked up at him through her eyelashes with reverence. It was all you could not to laugh at the notion, and it was evident his siblings felt the same, even if he did not notice. He held his arm out to escort her towards her ball now that Daphne had taken her shot, and the rest of you were obliged to follow them.
As soon as most were out of earshot and it was just you, Benedict and Daphne walking at a slower pace a ways behind, you spoke.
“Exactly which Miss Sharma does he refer to?” you whispered to Benedict, knowing Daphne too would hear your comment. She reacted immediately, placing a hand over her mouth to hide her smile and hurrying to catch up with the rest of your competitors. Your husband tapped his fingers at your waist in a show of warning.
“Should Anthony hear you say that you will be in for quite the scolding,” he said just as you caught up, watching Kate hit Anthony’s ball hard enough to send it flying into the undergrowth.
“You would allow him to scold me?” you asked under your breath. The two of you joined in the clapping for Kate’s fine shot and you winked at her when she met your eye triumphantly, “A wonderful shot, Miss Sharma. You make a fine addition to our ranks, indeed.”
She bowed her head in gratitude for your comment and in your peripheral vision you could see Anthony’s glower at your compliment to someone who, in his mind, was entirely the wrong woman to be adding to your ranks.
It was only as Edwina stepped up to hit her own ball that Benedict responded to your comment.
“Of course I would not allow him to scold you,” he mumbled, still with an arm firmly around your waist, as you rested your hand on his shoulder to turn into him, “I would not allow anyone to scold my darling wife, including myself of course.”
“Correct answer, my love.”
“But it may be difficult to stop him should you continue your insinuations,” he added, drawing a sigh from you that had nothing to do with the reckless way in which Edwina had just hit her own ball into the trees. You joined the hesitant clapping with a wide eyed knowing look to Eloise, before turning back to Benedict.
“You mean to tell me you have not seen the glances between your brother and his supposed intended’s sister?” you hissed, straightening up with a smile when you saw Edwina heading your way. It quickly became clear, even without listening to the current conversation, that she was bowing out of the game and you smiled at her in what you hoped was a kind gesture. You watched her walk away, only stopped by Anthony briefly on her way back to the gaggle of ladies enjoying tea on the terrace.
“Perhaps we shall continue this conversation in a less public setting?”
You nodded your agreement as Anthony returned, Colin stepping up to thwart Kate’s plan with yet a third well-placed shot into the trees. It was painfully obvious that neither would be conceding like Miss Edwina, and thus they stalked into the trees together, the rest of you watching on with some amusement. Absently, an idea came to you as Eloise called for you to take your turn. You untangled yourself from Benedict’s sideways embrace and kissed his cheek in parting, pausing only to whisper:
“Donot take this personally.”
His brow furrowed at your words, but understanding soon dawned on his face as you walked right up to his ball and, with little ceremony, hit it squarely into the trees Anthony and Kate had just headed into. You made sure not to hit it too hard, not wanting to cause any accidental concussions, but simply wishing for an excuse to follow them a ways into the greenery.
You turn and curtsy to your husband, laughing at the resounding claps from his siblings. He shook his head, understanding the nature of your plan instantaneously, as he took his mallet to your ball and hit it in much the same trajectory. You made a show of looking displeased for the rest of the family but your eyes sparkled as you glared at him.
“Surely you did not think I would allow you to get away with such a scandal, angel?”
Eloise faked a rather unladylike gag.
“Yes, yes, we understand, you are both quite clever. Now would you go and retrieve your balls so we can continue?”
You and Benedict glared at her in unison, but soon began the trek into the trees ignoring the knowing look that Daphne gave you before you left. As soon as you reached the tree line, Benedict held up a branch for you to duck underneath and you thanked him with a silent nod as you crept through, emerging into what felt like a forest just a few steps from the lawn.
Benedict glanced behind him to ensure you had not been followed as you gazed around your new surroundings for any sign of Kate or Anthony that may give away your ruse. There was no one nearby, but you could hear aggravated voices some way West of you, which no doubt belonged to the bickering pair themselves.
“We should go this way,” you mouthed to Benedict, pointing the way of the voices as you set off, stopping only at the feeling of his hand around your wrist.
“We shouldn’t go at all,” he whispered harshly, “Have we truly reduced ourselves to espionage?”
“Yes!” you hissed, “As your doting wife who cannot bear to see you so anxious, I have come up with the perfect solution: a distraction. You are free to return to the others if you like, but I should like to see how these two behave when they are alone.”
And with those as your parting words, you hitched up the skirt of your gown and stepped over a particularly large branch in your path. Walking with purpose towards the source of the noise and noticing almost immediately that there were careful footsteps following your own. Benedict soon fell into step beside you, fixing you with an look that displayed his overwhelming fondness for you more than it did the exasperation he was trying to achieve.
You put your finger to your lips as Anthony and Kate came into view up ahead, pulling your husband down behind a bush with you as you watched them. He huffed quietly, but did as you silently instructed, not before reaching out to smooth the back of your dress over the ground before it became too bunched up in the mud. You could not help but bite your lip as you watched him fuss over it until he was satisfied, his hands flexing against the fabric. You quickly looked away with heat at the back of your neck when he caught your stare with a devilish glint in his eye.
The two you were supposed to be watching were staring at the balls they had come to retrieve, lying in deep mud a few feet from them. You grasped Benedict’s arm for stability in your crouching when Kate made her way into the mud, hitting her ball free with a triumphant grin Anthony’s way. Whilst Miss Sharma herself may have missed how impressed the Viscount appeared at her actions, you noticed the look that passed as quickly as it came.
“Look!” you nudged Benedict, pointing carefully at Anthony’s face, gratified when your husband had the decency to nod his agreement. When Anthony himself waded in and the two of them stood far closer together than was likely necessary, you sat with bated breath. It was all you could do to keep your giggling to yourself when they ended up in the mud somehow. Benedict was not quite so adept at hiding his own laughter, particularly not when the pair began laughing themselves, and so, swatting at his arm all the way, you pulled him up and away from the scene with you.
Once you were sufficiently far from them that they should never know you were there at all, you allowed your hands to rest on your knees as you caught your breath, the two of you finally able to laugh freely.
“Oh, how right you were,” Benedict spoke up as he calmed himself, leaning against his mallet, “How did I not see it?”
“Because, my dearest husband, you have been preoccupied,” you argue teasingly, straightening up and placing your hands on his atop his mallet, “Only drastic measures such as these were enough to have you see sense.”
You looked up at him, the close proximity doing nothing to calm your heart after your exhilarating game. There was a sudden urge, somewhere deep within the pit of your stomach, to kiss him, but you held out on it just a little longer.
“In future, I will endeavour to simply surrender to your every opinion, as it is so clearly superior,” he took one hand from the mallet, using it to pull a wayward strand of hair from where it had curled behind your ear, smoothing it out to frame your face, “Whatever is Anthony going to do?”
“Nothing, if he does not change his mind concerning the purpose of his marriage,” you said sadly, leaning into Benedict’s touch, “But I like Miss Sharma far too much not to become a little meddlesome in the pursuit of her as a sister-in-law.”
“Let us not get carried away-”
“Benedict, I believe it was you mere moments ago who claimed you were to surrender to my every opinion from now on. I do hope those weren’t empty promises.”
“Never, angel,” he murmured, “If you wish for me to order Anthony to marry Miss Sharma for your own sake, I shall do it. I shall do whatever it is that you ask of me.”
He was exaggerating, yes, but you also knew that his words were truth. There was not a day that went by in your marriage where you were anything less than inordinately happy and there was no one else to thank but him.
“You always have, my love. We will endeavour to be more subtle with our Anthony, however, ensuring that he believes himself to be the one who has changed his course. It would do do for him to acknowledge being steered by anyone else,” you absentmindedly swept your thumb back and forth across Benedict’s hand as you spoke, “First thing tomorrow morning, after breaking our fast with everyone, we will retire to our room to privately plan our intervention.”
“If our intervention ensures that Anthony marries for love and finally becomes the brother I remember him to be, I am invested in it already.”
“He has the capacity for happiness, I have seen it,” you assure him, then realise your opportunity for further reassurance, “Just as you, my dear, have the capacity for greatness. My distraction has worked a treat, do you not think?”
“Until you mentioned it as a distraction, yes,” he says, softening when you look disappointed at his admission. As you are about to apologise, he picks up his mallet with both hands and swiftly sweeps it over your head, pressing it firmly to your back until the there is no room between the two of you even to breathe. Thoroughly trapped between him and his mallet, you sigh happily against his lips.
“I assume you have your heart set on an altogether different manner of distraction?”
You feel him grin against you, even as you close your eyes and await his touch.
“Surely you would not deny a man in such great need of you,” he muttered gravely, nose nudging your cheekbone with lazy urgency, “Your husband, no less.”
“I would not deny you anything, my love,” you whisper, feeling the shudder than runs down the length of his spine at your reply. It is cruel what you intend to do, but you know it shall serve as a better distraction for now and that more pleasurable distractions will simply have to wait for your bedchambers later, “But for my pursuit of victory.”
You placed a peck of a kiss to his cheek before wriggling from his grasp, ducking under the mallet that had you so tightly pinned to him and rushing off in the direction of your ball back the way you came. You heard his loud laugh behind you and his call:
“You’ll come to regret that, angel!”
It did nothing to deter you. Benedict’s shoddy play all afternoon gave you no cause for concern. You both hit your balls back up the lawn at an alarming rate, your husband chasing you down as you both laughed yourselves into hysterics. Just as you reached the edge of the grass where you had left everyone, the cheers came up to celebrate Daphne’s triumph and the two of you stopped in your tracks, panting once again.
“I see it was Daphne we should have been concerned with besting,” Benedict mused breathlessly at your side once he had caught up and you let your head rest against his upper arm.
“Seeing as we have indulged in espionage during this year’s game, I see no reason we could not form an alliance during our next. What do we have to gain from playing fair?”
You felt his arm come around your shoulders at your words, looking up to see a prominent smirk plastered over his face and a familiar spark in his eye.
“I told you earlier your competitive spirit was too much for me to bear in the public eye,” he spoke his sin into your ear as you tried your best not to let him win, “Now that our game is over, I should think I am obliged to act on my desires.”
“I should think that would be only fair, my dear husband. If we cut across the lawn to the East, I shouldn’t think they would even see us disappear inside.”
Your husband groaned and, without a word, pushed at your back repeatedly until you were both stumbling away to the side entrance of Aubrey Hall, shushing each others’ giggles incessantly on your way. Your fingers slotted between his easily, a homecoming, and you both silently resolved, just as you had on your wedding day, never to let go.
Warnings:this is definitely steamy but no actual smut, you and anthony are super in love but shhh its a secret, siena just doesn’t exist sorry babe, fluffy friendships with the rest of the bridgerton siblings, it just so happens anthony is down bad for you (are these warnings? yes)
A/N:This one just absolutely flowed out of me, so forgive a few plot holes for the sake of some hot Anthony tension if you would! I can’t thank you enough for the response to my first Benedict fic, I really have been blown away, so I really hope you equally enjoy my first foray into the realm of Anthony <3
—
Lady Danbury’s ball was the perfect occasion to begin the season on the correct foot, even if your ambitions for the season were rather different to every other eligible miss in the ton. You smoothed out the deeply emerald dress that currently fluttered around your figure as you stepped out of your carriage alongside your mother, taking her arm and walking through the grand entrance to the ballroom.
It felt as if you were escorting her rather than the other way around as she talked excitedly at your side, asking your opinion on whether you thought the newly renowned Lady Whistledown might be here tonight or not. Keeping your composure, you answered her as politely as you could manage, with little excitement, knowing that attempting to speak more than three words at a time in your mother’s presence was quite the challenge. You were at least grateful that she was far more concerned with her own plans for the evening than having anything to do with finding you a husband.
True to her nature, your mother hurried off to Lady Cowper as soon as the two of you were inside, intending to continue their spirited gossip session from their afternoon tea three days prior. Doing your best not to shake your head at her lack of maturity, lest Lady Whistledown indeed be watching from the wings, you resolved to enjoy your evening the only way you knew how - with the company of the Bridgertons.
The first two you spotted were Benedict and Colin, both attempting to hide themselves in a private corner and both failing miserably. With a grin to yourself, you picked up your skirt and made your way over to them hastily.
“How lucky the two of you must find yourselves,” you begin, watching their glowers at the sound of a female voice turn into smiles when they turned to realise it was merely you, “With your mother so wonderfully busy with Daphne, here you are left to your own devices. I dread to think what you shall get up to this season.”
“If we are able to indulge in more of your company, Miss Y/L/N, I shall be most grateful for my mother’s preoccupation,” Colin said in his usual tone, taking your hand in his and kissing the back of it, only looking slightly offended when the gesture caused both you and Benedict to scoff.
“I am sure you are already aware of the benefits of ignoring my brother, Y/N,” Benedict said with an easy smile, “Though it is indeed good to see you.”
“I can assure you I am well versed in how to deal with your brother by now,” you teased, grinning at Colin’s feigned display of hurt as he put a hand to his chest, “Surely I would not be quite so fond of your family otherwise.”
“Your continued fondness for us is rather alarming,” Colin teased, “Almost as alarming as your lack of marriage thus far, wouldn’t you say?”
Benedict had the decency to elbow his brother in the ribs on your behalf and mutter something under his breath about it being ‘too far’ but in truth it was anything but. Colin’s words may have reduced most of the other ladies in attendance to thinly concealed despair but he was well aware that you would appreciate the humour in his jest.
“You are incredibly informed about a lack of marriage, after all, Colin,” you shoot back, “Although, unlike myself, you have never been here long enough to even dip your toe into the marriage mart.”
It was just as you delivered your killing blow that Eloise decided to join the small circle you were forming, already giggling having heard your remark. Benedict had stifled his own laugh behind his glass of lemonade, though his face grew quite serious when Colin fixed him with a disapproving glare. You linked your arm with Eloise’s as soon as she was at your side, grinning at her with glee.
“Do you know, Y/N, your wit might be the only thing about the social season that I have missed this winter past?” Eloise noted and you shook your head fondly, especially seeing Benedict and Colin share a glance of agreement. Your friendships with the Bridgertons were some of the most dear to you and to have them reciprocated so wholeheartedly made your night of torture almost worth it.
“How come Eloise is allowed to lavish you with praise and yet when I attempt the same, I am met with disdain?”
“Because, Colin, your praise is always delivered with some level of flirtation in its wake. You would do well to learn true poise from your younger sister,” you argued, though you could not keep the wide grin from your face as you did so. Just as you could see Benedict was about to chime in with a barb of his own, a sudden silence descended on the ballroom as the diamond herself walked in, her mother and, most notably, the Viscount at her side. The four of you turned to watch their entrance, though Eloise turned away with a roll of her eyes before long.
“I wonder whether Daphne shall be allowed to dance with a single gentleman this evening,” Benedict mused, “They may struggle to prise her away from the clutches of her loyal guard.”
“I spoke to Anthony only the other day and he seemed rather committed to finding Daphne a suitable match,” you began, seeing your companions’ brows scrunch together in confusion at your words, waiting for the punchline, “So I would assume within, shall we say, four seasons, he might find someone he deems worthy?”
The three Bridgerton siblings dissolved into laughter, the room’s previous silence well and truly interrupted. Most of the ton spared you a quick disgruntled glance before returning to their previous conversations but you were far too busy laughing to yourselves to pay them any mind.
Just as your laughter was dying down, you looked back to Daphne to ensure you had not disturbed her grand entrance too much. Fortunately, or unfortunately as Eloise may have you believe, she was already flocked by suitors, all of whom were likely looking for a spot on the diamond’s illustrious dance card. Your eyes flickered leftwards almost accidentally.
His gaze was already locked on you. It was impossible to break your stare once it had been forged. The wide smile your laughter had left behind slowly faded from your features, replaced by a look that you knew, had it been caught by anyone with half a brain, would be identified as longing. The look in his own eyes was similar and all too difficult not to drown in. You watched as his eyes wandered down your form and back up again, tried to ignore the heat that sparked along your spine at the action.
Before anyone could notice your distraction, you closed your eyes, breaking the spell that your Viscount had cast over you. Without looking back at him, you turned back into your circle of friends, his siblings, finding yourself grateful that Eloise had already inserted another joke into the conversation and had left no room for anyone to note your brief absence.
“If you’ll excuse me,” you interjected in a brief reprieve from the jovial back-and-forth, “I find myself quite parched. Can I fetch you a glass of lemonade, El?”
She shook her head as her answer and you bowed your head as you parted from them, only offering a smile at Colin’s insistence that you make haste with your return so that they would not be forced to begin their commentary on the mamas ballgowns before you were back at their sides.
The table of refreshments granted a perfect position for you to analyse the rest of the ballroom without having to make the sort of idle small talk that you had come to despise. In spite of your own assertions, it was impossible to stop yourself from scanning the crowd for the familiar brown hair you longed to see. You caught sight of Daphne taking a turn around the room but soon noticed she was on her mother’s arm as opposed to her brother’s. She spotted you briefly and you gave her a discreet yet altogether silly wave, smiling at the slight upturn of her lips at the motion. Daphne had always been the most serious about her prospects and it was clear that tonight was no different.
“Miss Y/L/N! I must say, even amongst so many accomplished young ladies, you still stand out as one of the most beautiful of the night.”
You winced before you turned around. Lord Harrogate. The bane of the social season prior and someone you had hoped would grow tired of your endless rejections many months ago. Whilst he was known as a gentleman of honour, he was painfully boring in every aspect of conversation and always stood a tad too close to those he was speaking with, whomever they may be.
“Lord Harrogate, I see you have returned from Spain. You must have many stories from your recent travels.”
Whilst many would raise an eyebrow at your invitation for him to even speak at all, you had learnt a lot from too many moments in his company. Anything that resembled a back-and-forth with such a man was a useless endeavour and instead, the most painless method of talking to him was simply to invite him to ramble and tune him out wherever possible. It was exactly what you were doing now, as he spoke to you of the trials and tribulations that had awaited him in Spain.
You were preparing to excuse yourself and return to the Bridgerton siblings who had now lost Colin to a dance with one of the particularly pretty misses of the evening, but before you could do so, you felt a presence behind you. There was a hand at the base of your back for only a moment before it was gone, but the presence remained, just over your right shoulder. Lord Harrogate had the sense to let his sentence trail off at the intrusion.
“Apologies, Harrogate, but my sister is asking after Miss Y/L/N and I simply must escort her into the gardens to see her. I believe she may have a possible suitor to discuss with you, Miss Y/L/N, if you would?”
“Of course, my Lord. We shall continue our conversation at a later date, Lord Harrogate…”
You placed your hand in the crook of Anthony’s elbow halfway through your parting sentiment to Lord Harrogate and he was already whisking you away before you could hear his reply. You turned to your combined rescuer and interloper with a fierce glare for his impropriety but upon seeing the tick in his jaw and his unwillingness to look at you, it became clear that it was best to wait until you were outside.
He led you down the steps and further into the gardens, greeting anyone you passed with a firm nod and a loud assurance that his sister was just around this corner, in case there were any ill-advised objections to the two of you stepping away from the festivities.
As soon as you rounded yet another corner into a more secluded part of the garden, you ripped your arm from his and turned to face him, a finger already in his face.
“That was unnecessary, Anthony, you taunt the poor man! He was only trying to-”
“He was only trying to secure a dance with you, and a subsequent marriage. It is only what he has been trying to do the past three seasons!”
“I do not remember you taking such issue with him in seasons past,” you said resolutely, squaring your chin at him despite still having to look up into his face. It is an action that soon reminds you of the look you have already shared that evening, one that makes it impossible for any true anger to be laced into your words.
“No, I did not,” he says, his tone quieter now as he takes a step towards you, “You know why I did not.”
“Perhaps I should like to hear you say it, my Lord.”
Anthony breathes a lengthy exhale out of his mouth, shaking his head in disbelief at your words. There was a challenge within them, one that had the makings of ruining the whole game you had made for yourselves. You had hoped it would be him to make the first mistake, but you could never have hoped for it to be so soon, at your first ball no less.
“We should not be here,” he says instead, turning away from you with a hand to his forehead. You step forward in his blindness and when he turns back to face you, you are far closer than before, close enough that he could reach out and touch you. It takes every ounce of your willpower not to do so yourself.
“We should not,” you concur, “But here we are. And I am asking you to tell me of the reasons for your sudden and blatant jealousy, in case you have already forgotten.”
He scoffs at the word jealousy, but the way in which his hands reach out to grab you, to pull you tight against his chest betray his feelings. You let out a small gasp at the action, but let your hands come to rest around his shoulders with practised ease.
“You wish to know of my jealousy? You wish to know how every man’s eyes that land on you in that ballroom makes me feel as if I am suffocating? How I feel when you stare at me like that across the room and I can’t-”
His face is too close to yours, noses brushing each other each time you breathe in a shaky gulp of air from his open mouth. When you push your chin forward just enough that your lips should touch, he leans back just enough to ensure no contact is to be found. It is infuriating in its utter perfection, as is he.
“You can’t what, Anthony?” you whisper, feeling the arms around your waist tighten at the use of his name, “You can’t just take me in your arms, like so, and feel every curve of my body against yours? Feel every part of me aching for you?”
“Such improper words from such a pretty mouth,” he murmurs, the backs of his fingers brushing upwards along your covered spine until they reach your exposed shoulder blades, where they begin to draw slow, electric circles along the bones.
“And yet you still will not kiss me. It does not feel very gentlemanly to leave me so desperate for you.”
There is a low noise in the back of his throat that you barely register before he descends on you, hot and hard and wanting, opening your mouth to his in an instant. He licks into it, tongue insistent against yours as his hands clutch at every part of you all at once. His lips disappear from yours all too quickly, but soon you feel him instead at the corner of your lips, the curve of your jaw, the line of your neck.
With a quiet groan you look down at him as he attaches his lips to the top of your chest above the neckline, watch his eyes meet yours as he continues his path. You weave your hands into his hair and tug him back up to you, holding him at eye level.
“I win.”
You are all but panting as you say it, pulling him into you and meeting him in yet another mind-numbing kiss, but this time when he pulls away, he does not begin a path elsewhere. Instead, he stumbles back from you as if burned and stares wide-eyed as you try to steady yourself.
“You-you win?” he says, wonderfully breathless. You cannot hide your smirk and it only grows wider when his shocked face turns into a look of awed respect that looks an awful lot like lust, “You little minx - you tricked me! Surely this cannot count towards our bet.”
“Oh but it does count, dearest. Must I remind you that it was your idea to see how long we would be able to keep ourselves from each other this season?”
“And must I remind you that it was indeed your idea to wait until the end of Daphne’s season to wed? I believe you said something about not wishing to distract me from my brotherly duties. If it had been solely up to me, you would already be my Viscountess,” he stepped back towards you as he lowered his voice to a sinful level, “I could have my way with you however I see fit in this garden.”
“Your wife or not, I should think Lady Danbury would have something to say about that, my love,” you smiled, stepping back into his arms without his complaint, deciding to momentarily forget your vow to step aside and let him focus on aiding Daphne in her search for a husband this season. No longer a fiery embrace, it had now melted into one of adoration, his eyes holding all the reverence you had come to expect from the man you loved.
“You are right. But I could certainly have had my way with you at home, in our marital bed, prior to tonight,” he whispered, his words now sparking feelings of longing rather than mere lust, “And I would have the sweet promise of the night to come to aid me in surviving this dreadful event.”
“How about the sweet promise of all our nights we have to come, for the rest of our lives together? Will that suffice for now?”
Anthony visibly softened, but still tilted his head as if to think about your words. You chuckled at him quietly, still getting used to the playful side of him that had only surfaced in recent months. Somewhere between sitting side by side at both Bridgerton and Y/L/N family dinners, glancing at each other across drawing rooms and, subsequently, stealing you away to his office to kiss you senseless, all doubt had been removed from your mind: this was the man you were to spend your life with.
“I am not sure, darling,” his face drew near to yours once more, and you could feel his breath on your cheek as he whispered in your ear, “I may need further convincing.”
You grinned as you pressed your temple into his, feeling his own smile against your cheek. It would be a miracle if you lasted to the end of the night without marrying him, let alone waiting for the end of the season.
“As you wish, Anthony.”
The way in which he groaned as he picked you up and held you against the nearest hedge, kissing you as deeply as he ever had, left you safe in the knowledge that he had been entirely convinced for quite some time.
a lack of convincing-in which you and anthony attempt to wait to show everyone your love for each other, but you can’t quite stop staring at him
~ BENEDICT
forgive me - in which you think benedict doesn’t like the idea of you marrying but really he doesn’t like the idea of you marrying anyone else
a fitting distraction- in which a game of pall-mall is afoot and you and your husband, benedict, engage in a bit of harmless spying on your brother-in-law
Warnings: friends to lovers, a lot of pining, some slight steaminess but it’s just built on intense longing and intense kissing
A/N:My first Bridgerton fic, which is slightly out of my comfort zone but has been a total joy to write! Feel free to send in any ideas you might want to see me write in the future. Hope you enjoy a good old friends to lovers confession with our boy Benedict <3
—
“You cannot seriously be considering such a thing? I shan’t hear of it, brother!”
It could never be said that the Bridgerton household was a dull one, a fact that you had witnessed firsthand ever since you were a child. Each time your mother had been invited round for tea with Lady Bridgerton, which seemed to happen far more frequently than was truly proper, you would attend too, following quietly behind her skirt. You would always begin with a shy smile towards the Bridgerton matriarch but once you were encouraged to join the children in the gardens, your inhibitions soon deserted you.
When you were first invited, Daphne and Eloise were just slightly too young to play with you properly and so you were forced to form friendships with the three eldest brothers. Whilst Anthony had largely grown out of such youthful things as friendship and Colin had travelled so extensively that your exchange of letters had grown thin, there was one Bridgerton brother that had provided a constant ever since childhood.
Currently, however, though your plans upon arriving at the Bridgerton house were to seek out Benedict himself for some of the quiet, unhurried conversation you had been longing for, you had stumbled into an argument between Anthony and Daphne in the drawing room and Eloise had been too quick to pull you down to sit beside her for you to make a swift exit.
“What is it this time, Eloise?” you asked in a whisper, glancing at the arguing siblings to ensure you had not accidentally disturbed them.
“Daphne believes Anthony is scaring off all of her potential suitors but Anthony, of course, does not deem any of them suitable for his dear sister,” Eloise informed you, rolling her eyes with little concealment as she spoke of her brother.
“And who is right?”
“Daphne is right, of course, though why she should care so much about her marriage prospects is not for me to know,” she confirmed ruefully, still holding your hand tightly in hers to keep you from rushing off, “Do you still refuse to read Lady Whistledown, Y/N?”
You scrunched your nose in distaste before you could stop yourself, despite your hunch that Eloise may have something to do with Lady Whistledown and your desperate wish not to offend her should that be true.
“I cannot read gossip about those that I consider my friends, Eloise, you know that,” you whispered honestly, before a mischievous smirk overtook your features as you lowered your voice further, “If Lady Whistledown suddenly decided solely to write about Lady Featherington and Miss Cressida Cowper’s misdeeds, perhaps she would gain a loyal reader.”
Eloise snorted at that, the sound enough to stop Anthony from continuing the long, drawn out scolding he was attempting to deliver. He turned to where you were sat, a look of surprise flitting across his features only momentarily before he was able to restore his regular stoicism.
“Miss Y/L/N. I was not aware you had joined us, I apologise for your lack of welcome.”
“If it was a welcome I wished for, Lord Bridgerton, I might have announced myself upon my entry. Please, do not halt your lively discussion for my sake, myself and Eloise were just beginning to enjoy ourselves.”
Eloise was still giggling and even Daphne, despite her anger towards her brother, had managed an amused smile. Anthony’s demeanour hadn’t changed, save for the twitch in his neck when you used his title, something you would insist on continuing as long as he continued to call you Miss Y/L/N rather than simply your name. He studied you for a second before tilting his head with a smirk.
“I am sure you should enjoy yourself more alongside the sibling of mine you have truly come here to visit, Miss Y/L/N. Allow me to fetch him for you.”
“That will not be-”
Anthony gave a slight inclination of his head as a bow, then swept out of the room with that infuriating smirk still playing on his lips. You felt the heat creeping up the back of your neck at the insinuation he had just made, especially upon noticing the look that was exchanged between the two sisters remaining at the room. You fixed Daphne with your strongest glare until she was forced to turn away and ripped your hand from Eloise’s when she laughed.
“I shall remember you are both terrible traitors next time you ask me for advice,” you said petulantly, standing and smoothing out the skirt of your dress discreetly, “If your brother returns, please inform him that I will be in your library, there is a book I began during my last visit I simply must read further.”
“And if he returns with Benedict?” Eloise asked, despite Daphne’s subtle shake of the head that you had caught regardless. You fought to keep the smile from your face at the mere mention of his name.
“Then you may tell Benedict that he is welcome to join me, as long as he leaves the rest of you behind,” you joked, smiling genuinely at the two women before you left, taking a few lefts and a right until you found yourself in the familiar surroundings of the Bridgertons’ library.
Whilst many families may have found issue with your independence in a house that was not your own, the closeness of your two families had always excused formalities, even as you grew older. Time spent with Benedict, or even Colin on the occasion he was home, was not always strictly chaperoned, unless Anthony happened to be in a particularly sour mood.
You hoped whatever quarrel you had walked in on earlier and the words exchanged with the head of the household himself would not serve to ensure he would be glued to yours and Benedict’s sides for the whole afternoon out of nothing more than spite.
Where your relationship with Anthony was one of bickering, your friendship with Benedict was anything but. Though every other Bridgerton sibling insisted upon the inevitability of your marriage someday, both of you had always been able to easily brush away the notion. Benedict’s company may have been unparalleled, his wit sparkling and his eyes the exact shade of your favourite colour, yes, but to marry him would be to prove everyone else right and the two of you wrong.
You were, quite simply, too stubborn to admit your utter adoration for him.
Just as you had plucked a volume of poetry from the shelf that you had somehow not yet perused, there was a soft knock at the door and you turned sharply to greet your intruder.
“How do you still startle so when you are expecting me?” Benedict asked with a grin, breezing into the room and taking your hand in his to greet you with a quick kiss to the back of it, one that had you closing your eyes and ignoring the ache in your chest at the feeling.
“I suppose it is in your nature to startle me,” you shrugged lightly, taking your newly found poetry to the armchair by the window and sitting down carefully, knowing that Benedict would take his own seat at the other side of the window almost immediately if you did. There was a routine between the two of you that allowed you to relax in his presence.
“I do rather enjoy the surprised leap of your shoulders when I enter a room,” he teased, “Is there something to thank for your unplanned visit or should I simply thank you?”
“You may thank me, if you like. I was hoping to read for the afternoon, but staying at home to do so is almost impossible with my mother’s fretting over the next event of the season. She is currently rehearsing her every move for Saturday’s picnic.”
Benedict was quiet for a moment longer than you expected, staring at the floor with a hand on his chin. You leaned back in your chair, waiting patiently for him to speak. It was unlike him to consider his words quite this carefully before he said them, his usual unabashed manner having gotten him into a spot of trouble at Lady Danbury’s ball just recently. If you had not been there to assure Miss Heathridge that Lord Bridgerton had not intended to offend her when he described her dress as garish, you weren’t sure he would have made it out unscathed.
When he finally spoke up, though, his face no longer held the unbridled joy you had found in his grin when he first entered the room.
“I did not realise your mother was quite so intent on your season being a success,” he murmured, though you heard him as well as you ever had. The sentence, and its tone, made you pause. He still had not looked up at you and you were resolved to make him do so.
“Her determination for success cannot be matched by mine for failure, I assure you,” you smiled, expecting to draw a laugh from your companion but finding him fiddling with the upholstery of his chair instead. Your shoulders dropped, “I hope I have not said anything to offend you Benedict, and that you know it would be furthest from my intentions to do so.”
The hurt behind your sentence was enough to snap him out of whatever trance had befallen him.
“Offend me? I do not believe you could if you tried, Y/N,” he joked, finally meeting your eyes with a sad smile that he had offered up in an attempt to be reassuring, “It is only that your mother has never appeared concerned with the haste of your prospects previously. I do not like the idea of you being forced into a marriage you will not be happy in, that’s all.”
“She is not quite at the stage of forcing yet, so no need to worry yourself,” you assured him, wishing you could reach over and take his hand in your gloved one without restraint. You knew it was a boundary that, once crossed, you should only wish to do all the time, “You shall not soon lose your obligatory dance partner.”
“Obligatory? Do not do yourself an injustice, you are an excellent dance partner.”
“That may be, but I am a far more excellent repellent for the ambitious mamas who hound you, Benedict.”
Again he looks disappointed by your words, flippant as they are, and again you are unsure as to how you keep upsetting him. The easy back and forth between you had never dissolved like this previously and you bit the inside of your cheek to keep your emotions in check. When Benedict replied, his voice was small again.
“I am always most grateful for your assistance.”
The last word was little more than a hiss. He directed his gaze to the window, a view in which Gregory and Hyacinth were running around outside with a freedom you now longed for. An afternoon that lingered with light conversation as you read and Benedict painted the landscape now appeared impossible. Rather than embarrass yourself further, you stood from your chair, drawing his attention once more.
“I’m afraid I must take my leave,” you said with a smile that you knew he would see right through, “Eloise invited me to spend the afternoon reading with her and though our subject material is different it will be nice to have the company. Good day, my Lord.”
The title slipped out before you could think better of it, a feeling a strange need to emphasise the distance he had decided to put between you. You turned away from him quickly upon seeing the hurt shining in his eyes as he gazed up at you, picking up the poetry book you cared so little for now and walking towards the door. You hoped Eloise did not have plans for the afternoon and was indeed willing to spend it with you to solidify your ruse for leaving Benedict behind.
A hand closed around your wrist. You stopped just before the door but refused to turn around just yet.
“Y/N.”
His voice was but a whisper. Your breath hitched at the warmth of him from behind you, the brush of his breath against the back of your neck. His fingers slid down the inside of your wrist until they rested on the palm of your hand, thumb curling around the back of it. Your own fingers itched to wrap around his own, and with him so close to you, you could not ignore it, loosely grasping his hand in return.
“Benedict…”
“Forgive me,” he breathed, taking one more fateful step until his chest pressed ever so lightly against your back. Your chest heaved at the proximity, eyes closing to savour the feeling that was sure to be fleeting as soon as whatever spell had been cast was broken. Unable to pull yourself away, you leaned backwards just enough, his chin pressing against the crown of your head and you felt him push forward into the touch.
“I cannot forgive you unless I know what it is I am forgiving,” you said, finding your voice far more laboured than you had hoped it would be.
“For treating you in such a miserable manner,” each word he spoke ruffled the strands of hair so intricately pulled into place, “For making you feel yourself an obligation.”
It was difficult to focus on his words, but there was no doubt in your mind that his actions from the afternoon so far were insignificant compared to the ones occurring in the present.
“You are forgiven. Easily and without complaint.”
“And,” he took his chin from the top of your head, moving it to your neck before you could mourn the loss. You heard his strong inhale behind your ear, and felt the trembling exhale against the side of your neck, “For this?”
His lips pressed against your neck, and though it was only a moment, it was anything but teasing. Your eyes flashed open in surprise, the hand that was not holding his flying to your chest to feel your quickening heartbeat as you let out a quiet gasp.
“Am I forgiven so easily once more?”
You knew that as soon as you turned around, you would lose your nerve. Whether the look in his eyes was one of love or one of lust, both would be sure to shatter your heart.
There was only one way in which to delay that outcome.
You reached out your left foot, catching the open door to the library and kicking it shut with the toe of your slipper. You felt Benedict jump behind you, but there was no time to enjoy your moment of triumph. Instead, you closed your eyes and turned, reaching up to cup his face in both hands and bring his lips to yours.
For a moment it was the only thing connecting the two of you, a moment that stretched on into agony the longer you felt him flounder in front of you. In reality, however, it did not take him long to wrap his arm snug around your waist, tug you closer to him with one swift, sharp motion. His other hand weaved its way into your hair, likely pulling apart your maid’s morning handiwork. It was the furthest thought from your mind as Benedict put his best efforts into utterly devouringyou.
There was desperation in his every move, in the way in which he clutched you to him, walked you backwards into the door. His lips were as insistent as you had always thought they would be, even if you only allowed yourself such thoughts in the silence of your chambers at night. His desperation was only matched by your own, however surprised you were at the way in which you reciprocated wholeheartedly. Somehow, it was him who first broke away, breath heaving and wanting, leaning backwards to avoid your absentminded chase of his lips.
“Forgive me.”
You let out a breathy laugh, letting your forehead fall against his in earnest.
“I’m afraid this particular transgression is mine,” still your eyes were closed, but you felt his eyes on you all the same, “Forgive me.”
“You are forgiven. Easily and without a single complaint, my love.”
Your own words used against you, accompanied by the extra damning term of endearment. Reality was seeping into the cracks of the floorboards you stood upon, even if you weren’t yet ready to allow it in.
“My love?”
“It is a fitting term for you. It is just what you are.”
“Benedict…”
Your words are intended as a warning but the tone, the pleading within them removes the sting. He pushes his forehead more firmly into yours, his hold on you grower somehow tighter still.
“Do not deny me this, Y/N. Do not deny me the feelings I have harboured since we were children.”
“You should not say such things.”
“I see. You do not love me?”
It is a bucket of cold water poured over your heated embrace. Placing your hands on his shoulders, you put your efforts into removing yourself from him. You are grateful and rueful all at once when he immediately steps away from you, an awful reminder of the goodness that resides in his heart.
Finally, you open your eyes to see exactly what you were scared of, right in the eyes of your favourite person. It is a look that is surely mirrored in your own, if the softening of the lines around his eyes tells you anything.
“I cannot say that.”
“Then what is to stop us? Please, if there is some terrible reason that has escaped my attention you must tell me. I will eliminate it immediately.”
You heave a sigh, fingers at your temples to soothe the oncoming ache and the tingling that still plagued the fingertips that had been skin to skin mere moments ago.
“Everyone has had our lives planned out together for years, Ben,” you mutter, blinking back the beginnings of your tears, “Should you really wish to prove them right? To accept a future chosen for you instead of choosing your own?”
Even as you said the words, you could hear the weakness of your own argument. Benedict’s evident confusion only served to prove it further. There was no eventuality in which you would not choose Benedict, over and over again, in this lifetime and any other. Your stubborn pride was proving difficult to be rid of.
Benedict’s confusion was quickly replaced by a beaming smile, one that rivalled that which graced his features when he first set eyes on you in the library that afternoon. Had that same adoration been present in his gaze even then? You briefly wondered how many times he had missed the blatant affection you held for him. Whether you had found yourself equally blind.
“Y/N,” he began, taking your hands in his but no longer invading any personal space, “My family have been planning our marriage since we were seven because I declared you as my bride when I was but six years old. I have chosen you at every turn thus far and there is no future in which I do not continue to do so. My love for you is ingrained into the depths of my very being. My heart’s sole desire is to be beside yours, always.”
It was difficult to find the words to respond to such poetry. Benedict had always possessed a way with words, one that rivalled even your favourite wordsmiths, but behind the flowery words there was a sincerity that touched your soul. A determination. When you finally found your voice, timid as it was, it was impossible not to tease.
“You have waited twenty years to tell me what I have quietly always wished to hear. Perhaps you should ask my forgiveness once more, to be sure you have it.”
Though it took him a moment to understand your words, the recognition bloomed on his face in unspeakable joy. You took the step to close the distance between the two of you this time, hands still clasped in his between you. He spoke his next words against your mouth, aching and desperate.
“Forgive me.”
“You are forgiven. Easily and without complaint,” he giggled at your words and the sound was so melodious it was impossible not to join him, “I must inform you that there are conditions to my forgiveness, however.”
“Name them and they are yours. Everything I am, is yours.”
“That is splendid news, considering my heart has been in your safekeeping since our childhood,” you confirm, sliding your temple against his and trying to ignore the warmth of him long enough to finish airing your thoughts, “I thought myself too stubborn to concede to fate, but I cannot avoid conceding to love. It is a persistent notion.”
Another breathy laugh, one punctuated with a kiss to your forehead and then another when he found he could not help it.
“Persistent in its perfection, much like another I know.”
“My first condition is that we do not tell your family of this development immediately. I should like you all to myself a little while longer.”
“That is a rather favourable condition,” he says lightly, still inches away from your lips. The anticipation was beginning to grow unbearable.
“The second condition may be more tiresome to uphold, I’m afraid,” you say, feigning concern that Benedict can so clearly see right through. His eyes sparkle under candlelight and you wish you possessed half of his artistic talent to capture them, “I must insist that you kiss me, right this instant and that…”
You trail off at the forming of a lump in your throat. To say your next sentence was as good as cementing the rest of your life, if you were lucky. Feeling Benedict’s hands sliding over your waist and landing on your hips to pull you into him was some indication of the current state of your luck.
“And what?”
You smile, small and hopeful.
“And that you never stop, Benedict. Kiss me and never, ever stop.”
He was unable to stop himself from lifting your feet off the floor, met with a small squeak that did not prevent him from twirling you once, twice, three times in the air and then setting you back down gently. The subsequent dizziness felt only partially due to the spin, as the intoxication of finally allowing yourself something you had always wanted caused you to wobble on your feet. Benedict’s body pressed itself to yours, steadying and solid. Just as you were sure he was to kiss you again-
“I find your terms rather agreeable, I suppose.”
An insufferable tease. One that would stay beside you forever. Still, you huffed at his words.
“Thenact on them, my Lord.”
With a roll of his eyes, Benedict indeed kissed you, yet more thoroughly than before.
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!
![Return of the Quee[r/n]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/422babef297c161bc89a973234dea328/ceff954b82fb7181-4e/s30x30u_c1/b41d322dfc9c2128319eba562b3b4b1299b539f8.jpg){kind=small}
