Summary:Daphne insists on Colin to tell her where the duel is held. It just leaves Colin in a dilemma. What do to about you (around Hyacinth’s age)? He can’t leave you unattended.
“Where are they!” – vented Daphne out, bursting into the parlor. You gasped when she entered so furious. Her cheeks puffed up, her face turning a shade of red. – “Who? Daphne, you have to be more precise.” – answered Colin who was playing the piano. His fingers brushing the keys as a soft melody filled the room. Daphne came standing by the piano, her face sour as if she was about to burst. – “I think you know very well of who I speak!” – replied she, looking over her shoulder to you. She granted you a smile before removing all traces of it towards her brother.
Colin swallowed nervously, continuing to play the piano as if nothing was out of the ordinary. – “You mean Mama?” – asked you, thinking it was her Daphne was looking for. – “Anthony!” – shouted Daphne out. So loud it made Colin touch the wrong notes, ending the sweet melody with a hard clash. The sound was so sudden and loud, it made you cover your ears. The book suddenly shut before you reached the ending. Colin got up, taking Daphne by her elbow. He pulled her closer to the window, away from you. Daphne moved her arm up so his grip on her would lose. – “Don’t tell me you have not a clue, because I know you do.”
Colin inhaled deep, looking nervously away. – “Tell me where they are, brother. You need to tell me.” – whispered Daphne to him. She tried her sweet approach, hoping to gain favor this way. Colin pressed his lips together, slightly shaking his head. – “It is a matter of life and death!” – Daphne raised her voice a bit, yet still out of reach to you. – “Daphne…” – started Colin. Daphne moved her hand up, annoyed by his presence. – “You know where they are! Tell me!” – begged Daphne. Colin sighed looking past his shoulder over to you. You were staring with wide curious eyes at your siblings, trying to understand what was happening. – “Colin!” – called she out, losing her patience.
She grabbed him by the arm, pulling him along. – “Daphne wait!” – Colin twisted his arm so that Daphne released her grip on him. – “I can’t…” – said he, looking ashamed at the ground. – “You will take me to them!” – Daphne was determined to reach the duel before any true harm was done. She took his arm again as Colin moved it out of her way. – “I can’t!” – repeated he himself, leaning in closer to her. His eyes wandered off to you. Daphne lifted her shoulders a bit up, following his gaze.
“Then I shall go on my own!” – decided she, taking the back of her cloak as she spun around. Colin gritted his teeth, going after her. You straightened your back at bit, seeing them run out of the parlor, leaving you alone. – “I cannot leave her alone!” – bit Colin at her, agitated that Daphne would even suggest such a thing. She stopped at the door, turning towards him. – “Then stay here, but simply tell me where they are.” – insisted Daphne, not wanting to waste another minute. Colin inhaled sharply. – “I cannot leave you unescorted!” – called he out. – “And I cannot leave Y/n unattended!”
Such a conflict he found himself in. The duty of a brother slowly weighing on his shoulders. A weight he had not yet felt so heavy of a burden. It was his duty to escort Daphne. Yet it was also his duty to attend to you since they were the only one’s present at the house. – “Make your choice!” – Daphne pulled the hood from her cloak over her head, heading out of the door. Colin groaned in frustration, balding his hands. What must he do. If mother ever knew of this, he would hang.
“Y/n!” – called he out loud from the hallway. You got up, walking out of the parlor. – “Yes, brother.” – said you, still holding the door as Colin motioned for you to come over quickly. You ran up to him while he snapped his finger at the doorman. – “My sisters cloak!” – insisted he. The doorman bowed, parting from his position to go and fetch your cloak. – “Where are we going?” – asked you curiously. Colin knelt down on one knee before you, sighing deep. – “You cannot tell anyone of this.” – breathed he out. Your cloak arrived as Colin moved it around your shoulders.
He tied the cloak for you, moving the hood over your head. – “Is this like a little secret?” – questioned. Colin stopped what he was doing, smiling at you for a moment. – “Yes.” – whispered he out, stroking your cheek with his thumb. – “Now we must make haste!” – He got up to his feet, taking your hand. You tried to catch up with his firm footsteps as it felt like you were running and he simply walking. Outside sat Daphne already on her horse, huffing in surprise. Colin his horse was brought to him. – “Don’t even speak about it!” – said he to Daphne, helping you up in the saddle.
You moved a bit closer to the horses head. Colin hoisted himself up, coming to sit behind you. He took the reins in his hand. You panicked a bit when the horses head went up. – “Colin…” – said you in sheer panic. Colin signaled the horse to move, giving it a kick with a loud command. The horse got in motion, practically moving from standing still to running in a minor of seconds. You closed your eyes as this was the first time you rode a big horse. You were used to practicing on pony’s that went slow, not a tall horse that went fully rogue.
Daphne’s horse was running just behind you, trying to catch up. She caught up, riding beside the two of you. – “We better be there in time!” – shouted she out. – “In time for what?” – shrieked you out, panic written all over your face. – “You should’ve talked him out of it!” – It was clear Daphne was not released of all her anger yet. – “Talking him out of it?” – yelled Colin back. His horse thumping on the stones as they made way for the fields. – “You do know we are talking about Anthony!” – reminded he her. With little to hold, inhaled you sharply and tense. Colin had his hands on the reins, no where near you. Of course were his arms in a way around you, but not fully.
“You could’ve tried!” – answered Daphne brutally. You yelped soft when you felt like your entire body was bouncing around. – “The hairs Y/n!” – called Colin out to you. You froze for a moment, not knowing what to do. – “Take the hairs Y/n!” – shouted he louder, sending a rush of panic over you. You hastily grabbed a hold of the horses hairs for grip, not knowing if it would hurt the poor animal. – “Don’t shout at her!” – shouted Daphne, redirecting her anger to Colin’s manners. Colin sighed loud, granting his sister with a glare. Every time the horses hoofs touched the ground, got you more anxious.
You wanted off. This was getting to much of a thrill for you. They ran up to a woodsier part of the fields to reach their destination. Daphne bowed her head, avoiding some twigs from slapping into her face. – “Where is it!” – breathed Daphne out. – “Just up ahead!” – pointed Colin out. – “That will take us forever!” – screamed she out. Daphne thought for a moment, remembering something. – “I know a short-cut!” – exclaimed she, signaling her horse to go left. – “Wait!” – Colin clenched his jaw, going in pursuit. Daphne galloped to a large hedge, splitting land into two. Colin made his way over to it as well.
You saw the hedge, seeing Daphne jump over it with her horse. – “No…” – mumbled you out. – “No, no, no.” – your voice getting a bit louder each time. Going in full panic mode, didn’t want you to jump. You had never jumped with a horse. Certainly not a tall one as this one. – “No!” – called you out loud, protesting. Colin got startled, unable to see your facial expression. – “It will be alright Y/n.” – reassured he you. You shook your head, leaning back against his chest. – “I want off. I want off!” – shouted you, trying all to make him stop. – “Y/n, I…” – responded Colin, approaching the hedge.
You screamed loud, not wanting to go but you had no choice. Colin squeezed his arms closer to your body so that he could give you some sort of protection when the horse flew over the hedge. It landed on the other edge as you were full on crying. Colin signaled the horse to go faster, wanting to catch up with Daphne. – “Y/n I’m sorry.” – said he, hearing you cry. – “I truly am.” – In the distance saw he already Anthony and Simon, back-to-back. Benedict stood by a tree, keeping a close eye on Anthony. Daphne was guiding her horse towards them. Colin took a detour, coming closer by a different direction. He needed to get you out of sight before Anthony and Benedict would see you. Or he for sure was a dead man walking.
By a large tree, not far from them came Colin to a sudden stop. He jumped off, taking a hold of you, helping you off. Once your feet were on the ground, pushed you Colin off you. You wanted nothing to do with him for a while. Crying loud, walked you up to the tree. Colin going after you. – “Y/n I…” – started he, seeing your face was all wet from crying. You leaned against the tree, Colin coming to kneel before you quickly. – “Y/n I need you to do something for me.” – breathed he out, looking past the tree to where Daphne was. She was almost up to them if he didn’t make haste.
He moved his hand to your shoulder as you pushed it off. It pained him to see you so frightened like this. He never meant to scare his little sister like this. – “Stay here and out of sight! Please!” – begged Colin. He nodded, telling himself all will be well. Getting up, started he running. Anthony and Simon were ready to draw their pistols, pointing them at each other. Daphne interfered with her horse, startling the poor men. A gun shot was fired. You gasped, feeling as if you had skipped a few beats of your heart. Followed by loud neighing and shouts. A part of you wanted to look, but another part of you didn’t. Letting yourself slide down the bark, plugged you, your fingers in your ears to block the loud voices out.
Colin’s heart dropped, seeing Daphne lay in the grass. Anthony, Simon, and Benedict at her side quickly. – “Sister!” – called Anthony out at the same time Simon called out her name. Simon wanted to touch her, feel that she was alright when Anthony held him at a distance. – “Are you hurt sister?” – asked Anthony, fearing she might’ve been shot. Daphne got up, removing the hood from over her head. – “I am perfectly well, not thanks to you!” – spitted she out furious, getting up to her feet. – “What were you thinking? Running into a crossfire like that!” – shouted Anthony back. Colin slowly approached, nodding at Benedict as a reassurance that their sister was save.
“What were you thinking!” – fired Daphne right back at him. – “You men and your duels!” – scoffed she out. Daphne brushed some dirt off her cloak, turning around as she came face to face with Colin. She widened her eyes at the absence of you. Colin noticed the burning question on her lips, slowly shaking his head. He didn’t want her to ask about your well-being right here in the open. Daphne kept staring at him, tilting her head a bit to the side with a clear hint of her eyes. It made Colin widen his eyes as he had not thought of it.
How was he ever going to return home with you unnoticed. Everyone would head home together, so it was impossible for him to go unnoticed with you. Closing his eyes, cursed he at himself for not thinking this through. – “Well I suppose we all need a drink to forget about these events.” – pitched Benedict in. – “Agreed!” – bit Anthony, glaring at Simon. – “But you will marry my sister!” – insisted he. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. Not after witnessing the kiss between them in the gardens. Simon had to marry her, no matter how many times he insisted on not to. Everyone started to make their way over to their horses.
Daphne let Colin know to make haste decisions. – “Are you not coming brother?” – questioned Benedict, standing close to his horse. – “I…I…continue without me…” – said he, raising some questions to his brothers. – “I wish to see more of the view.” – Anthony laughed loud, ridiculing him. – “Don’t be absurd! Fetch your horse, Colin!” - Colin swallowed nervously, looking over his shoulder to where he left his horse and you. – “No…I…I really must insist.” – said he, hoping to persuade his brothers. Benedict quirked his eyebrow up, feeling as if something was off. – “Fetch your horse or I will!” – called Anthony out, pointing firmly at his horse in the distance. Colin exhaled deep, turning around.
Daphne slowly shook her head when he walked past. There was nothing for him to do but to go and fetch his horse. He could get on his horse, telling you he would come later for you? No that is out of the question thought Colin. He would never forgive himself for leaving you behind. Perhaps if he rode as last, no one would notice? Let you sit behind him so that his body would block out your posture. But how would that work at home when you descend? Perhaps there was nothing else to do but to face the consequence of his actions. In his mind acted Colin in the best way, pleasing both his sisters with what they needed.
You to be attended and Daphne to be escorted. If this was his walk towards death, he would take no other path. Colin arrived at the tree, disappearing behind it. Benedict frowned, giving his horse to Anthony as he followed. – “Y/n?” – whispered Colin. You wiped your cheeks dry, looking up to him. – “Can we go home?” – asked you, seeing him nod. He extended his hand to you as you took it. He left you by the tree, fetching his horse. As the tall creature approached you, gasped you loud, staggering back. Still frightened by it. – “It’s alright Y/n, I promise to take it slow this time.” – reassured he you.
“Y/n?!” – called Benedict out in surprise. His look of shock turned to anger when looking at Colin. – “You brought her here!” – yelled he out, lashing out to Colin. Colin stumbled back when his brother waved with his fist around. – “You wish to tell me you brought our sister to a duel!” – The others had heard the commotion, coming over as well. – “What is the meaning of this!” – Anthony widened his eyes as well at the sight of you. Gritting his teeth, felt he himself boil with anger. – “Explain!” – hissed Anthony at Colin. – “I…I…I had no choice! I had to escort Daphne but… I couldn’t leave Y/n on her own at the house.” – explained Colin.
“So you decided to bring her to a gun fight?” – yelled Benedict out, ready to wave his fist around again. – “I wouldn’t have brought her here if you didn’t start a duel in the first place!” – lashed Colin out, getting a bit tired that everyone was pointing fingers at them. Anthony was trembling with rage, ready to fight him. – “Stop!” – screamed you out loud, getting everyone attention. – “I want to go home!” – insisted you, stomping with your feet on the ground. Benedict noticed the glossy reflection in your eyes, hinting that you had been crying. He came kneeling before you, wiping your cheeks dry from the wet stains still visible. – “I want to go home…” – sobbed you out. Benedict nodded, wrapping his arms around you.
Anthony sighed deep, calming himself. – “Come along Y/n.” – said Colin holding his hand out to you. You gasped, leaning closer to Benedict at the sight of his horse. You didn’t wish to sit upon that animal any time soon. You shook your head, clamping onto Benedict for comfort. – “I am sorry.” – confessed Colin again, falling onto his knees. – “I never meant to scare you Y/n, I truly did not.” – you let go of Benedict, walking over to Colin. You hugged him, feeling him move his arms tightly around you. As if he was afraid, you would slip out of his grip if he loosened up for an inch. – “Forgive me sister…” – he moved some hair aside, kissing your cheek. You moved back, wiping your eye with your sleeve.
Anthony was glaring at Colin, demanding to have an explanation of your tears. – “I frightened her… with the horse.” – said he out loud. – “I brought upon her a fear of riding horses.” – Colin looked ashamed at the ground. Daphne came to his side, moving her hands to his shoulder. – “It will take time, but she might grow out of it.” – whispered Daphne to him. – “You are not to blame.” – Colin smiled faintly at her, giving her hand on his shoulder a soft squeeze. Anthony walked up to you, kissing the top of your head to sooth you.
“Will you ride with me?” – asked Benedict. – “I promise to go gently.” – reassured he you, offering you, his hand. You slowly nodded, walking up to him. He helped you on his horse, hoisting himself up behind you. You breathed out in shivers, sitting on top a grand animal again. Benedict moved one hand around your stomach, holding the reins in his other hand. – “We’ll go slowly.” – He gave the horse a gentle kick, setting it in motion. Your muscles pulled together from fright when the animal moved.
The horse walked slowly, almost parading. The others got on their horses as well. – “You do not need to wait for us.” – called he out to Anthony. Benedict looked down at you, smiling. You looked up to him, giving him a faint smile. – “We have all the time.” – whispered he out. Anthony nodded, signaling his horse to go faster. Daphne and Colin followed. Simon went his own way. Benedict and you rode on your own pace. He didn’t want your fear of horses to grow. You would make it back home, eventually. It just took a little longer.
Read part 1 here,part 2here!,part 3here!,part 4here! (This is the last chapter)
Summary: When a proposal has been offered, will you accept or forever keep your doubts? Can love truly conquer all?
“Marry me.”
You stumbled a bit backwards, letting your hand slide out of his. His request floating around your mind in little fragments. Fragments that had not yet been pieced together. Shivering out a breath, moved you, your hand towards your chest. How could he so easily decide the future when you were still yet uncertain about the present. The damage that has been done was not something to take lightly. Being personally cast out by the queen herself had consequents. If this meant you were out of the season for the rest of your live, you could never accept his hand in marriage. You wouldn’t wish a life of cruelty upon him.
Not on the man you love. Not even for a snippet of happiness. – “I…I…” – stuttered you out, afraid to look him in the eye. Benedict kept looking hopeful at you, keeping his warm smile up. He was starstruck for even seeing the possible dangers ahead. – “I…I…” – your gaze went up towards your father. He was smiling, perhaps a pure smile you had barely seen. Not a hint of miscommunication in it, simple but pure honesty. For the first times in forever had he been happy, content with you. You didn’t want to take that from him.
Then you adverted your gaze to Benedict’s brothers. Against all odds were they standing right here. By your side. Taking your side. No one had done that ever. It was unfair to them for what you had in mind. Your mind was chaos, every horrifying end tormenting you. How could you accept despite it all. This wasn’t a simple answer of yes or no, this was more than that. Reputations were at stake, reputations you didn’t want to shatter. You never did. If accepting meant dragging Benedict and his family alongside with you, you preferred to suffer alone. As you always have, for alone is all one person can have. Alone protects you.
It protects those you love, leaving the suffering to you. Taking away their pain as you had endured so much pain it became bearable. You started to slightly shake your head, pressing your lips together, feeling the tears emerge. – “I…I can’t.” – whispered you out, taking another step back. Benedict exhaled shocked, his knees going wobbly as he felt himself being dragged under. Colin ran up to his brother, holding him up by the shoulder. – “I’ve got you brother.” – said he, making sure Benedict stand up straight. – “I am sorry…” – sobbed you out, allowing some tears to roll down your cheek.
Your father ran up to you, shocked by your revelation. – “Y/n, my darling.” – called he out, staring baffled at you. Benedict found a bit of his strength back, patting Colin on his chest that he was alright. Colin carefully let go of his brother, keeping a close eye on him. – “Why?” – asked Benedict, taking a step closer to you. You sniffed loud, turning slightly towards him again. – “Why? You know why?” - told you him, your lip trembling from the sudden strong emotions. Benedict shook his head with a bite of his lip. – “Not good enough.” – answered he, shrugging his shoulders a bit. You exhaled sharp, taken by his determination.
Why was he so stubborn. – “Why, Y/n?” – he asked again, pounding his fist down in the air. You shook your head, not wanting to have this conversation by the palace. You turned around, walking away from him with your father by your side. Benedict wasn’t ready to let you off so easily. He knew his love was not one-sided. He had seen the emotions inside of you. He had seen the longing, the desire. He had seen it because he saw it within himself. He hated that despite it all you were still trying to protect him. Even when he told you numerous times not to. All he ever wanted was to love you, be by your side and support you no matter what.
“In sickness and in health, is that not a requirement?” – shouted he at you, ready to defend himself. – “I know you are afraid Y/n, I am too, but that doesn’t give away the fact that I…I…” – Benedict felt his hands tremble as he came to a stop. He felt like his emotions were steering him. He felt all control over himself slip away. The fight lust inside of him so grand, it made him go towards every length to keep you close. – “Benedict please…” – said you, wiping some tears away.
“How many more times must I proclaim myself? You are all that matters to me, nothing more. I want you, I … I love you.” – confessed he, making you abruptly stop. – “I love you with all my heart and it pains me… it pains me to see that you are not willing to give it a chance, us a chance.” – Benedict started to slowly approach you as you had stopped moving. His words casting a spell on you that kept you in place. – “I beg of you…” – you breathed in shivers, feeling his hands slide up the back of your arms. His sudden touch captivating you. – “I have lost myself in you.” – whispered he out, breathing against your neck.
You turned around sharply with tears in your eyes. – “I’m scared…” – exclaimed you. – “I am afraid that I might be the cause of all your pain. I do not wish that upon you. I love you… and the fact that I love you is why I must protect you.” – cried you out. Benedict moved his trembling hand towards your cheek, letting it rest there. – “I’m scared that all has been for nothing. That I can’t be the loving wife you require, that I cannot give you what you desire, that I cast my shadow upon you. I have seen it.” – you gave Benedict a slight push against his chest.
“I have seen what my condition does to people.” – you moved your head slightly to the side, seeing your father stare shameful at the ground. He knew you were speaking of him. Of all the deeds he had done towards you. – “I have seen it change them. Change them so much they are afraid to look at me. Benedict, I don’t want you to stop looking at me.” – tears were streaming ruthlessly down your cheek, clouding your vision. Benedict curled up a tiny smile. – “I shall never.” – whispered he to you. – “You don’t know that…” – answered you back. Benedict inhaled deeply, looking up to the blank night sky for a moment.
“I am telling you… right here that I love you Y/n. All of you.” – spoke he out, gazing back at you. With his palm against your cheek, wiped he some tears away. – “Don’t be afraid my love… It is time to let go of your fears…” – you shuddered, closing your eyes for a moment. – “Do not let society decide for you, do not let it lead your life. For I shall stand by your side no matter what. If the queen forbids you from the season, let her be… for I have already found who I wish to marry.” – slowly opening your eyes again, stared you in his hopeful eyes.
You loved his sense of hope when you could not. – “Y/n, I ask you again… will you accept my hand in marriage for I will love you entirely.” – He rose your hand up, holding it gently in his hand. Everyone was waiting in anticipation for you to speak. Benedict inhaling deeply as his chest rose with the tension building up inside of him. You could not deny your doubts and fears, but perhaps you simply had to take that leap. For how else were you going to discover what laid at the bottom of the cliff. For love is scary, allowing oneself to fully let go to experience it’s deepness. Love was a burning flame, bursting with light with one single touch.
You curled up a smile, slowly nodding. – “With all my heart.” – whispered you out, finally letting go of your fears. A smile spread across his lips, unable to contain himself. Benedict moved his hands around your back, lifting your body a bit up. Inhaling sharply, pressed he his lips against yours. That simple touch that made you reborn. Become a whole new person. Moving your hands to his jawline, tilted you your head to kiss him from a different angle. Love was indeed a burning flame that you felt inside of you. Why did you ever doubt him. It finally was clear to you that he loved you, all of you. There was nothing to be afraid of anymore for you had each other. You didn’t have to be alone anymore, for love has found its way to you. Granting you with the upmost caring gentleman one could ever give. Benedict Bridgerton, your artist, your protector, your friend, your husband.
Anthony cleared his throat, breaking Benedict, and you apart. – “How this is all very warmly, I do have to remind you that we are in public.” – informed Anthony with a shy smile on his face. Benedict and you took a step apart from each other. Gazing with deep affection to one another. – “Y/n darling, we must get home… I do not wish to be handled like that again.” – your father was right. It was wrong to stand here as she had casted you out so easily. – “We must head back inside for our dearest sister and mother.” – pointed Colin out, looking a bit over his shoulder. Benedict took your hand, leaving a caring kiss on top of it. Smiling at him, watched you him step back, letting your hand slowly slip out of his till it hung beside your body again.
Father took you by the arm, leading you towards the carriage. The two of you got inside as you sat by your fathers side. He threw his arm around you as you came laying against his chest. – “I hope you can forgive me… I cannot give any excuses for my behavior, and I will not for I have committed a crime. I do hope you can forgive your dear old papa for his blind eye.” – he threw his other arm around you as well, pulling you closer to him. – “From now on, I shall always be there for you. In sickness and in health, for I do not wish to lose you.” – He turned his head, kissing the top of your head.
A sudden crack of wood made you fly up in the carriage. Landing firmly back onto the seats as one part of the carriage had been send down. – “Father what is going on?” – called you out anxiously as the carriage came to a sudden stop. He held his finger to his lips, telling you to be quiet. Outside heard you loud voices. Father looked frightened at you, his face turning pale. – “Whatever you hear… stay here!” – demanded he, gripping tight onto your hand. – “Father!” – whispered you out in panic, seeing him take his leave. You moved over to the door, keeping your head out of sight.
You tried to listen in to the sudden voices as it sounded that they were with many. – “Good sirs…” – heard you, your father say with his hands up. You gasped in shock, covering up your mouth when you witness your father being punched in the stomach. He stumbled to the ground in pain. You wanted to jump out of the carriage and assist your father in any way. You heard loud laughter, seeing him get kicked in the stomach while he was crawling in pain on the ground. Your hands were trembling with fear. If your father was unable to defend you, what might they do to you once they find you.
A reflection of light marched into the dark as it made you widen your eyes. Torches. They were carrying torches and they were marching… marching up to the carriage. Your father knew what they were going to do as well, grabbing a hold of one’s ankle. – “Stop! My daughter is in there… please…” – begged he out, receiving another kick. He groaned in out in pain, rolling over to the side. A man held his hand out, demanding to be given a torch. – “No… please… stop…” – called your father out in pain, feeling every bone in his body hurt. – “You shouldn’t have brought her to the palace.” – said the man holding the torch, leaning down to your fathers face.
“No… I beg of you… my daughter is innocent.” – pleaded your father with them, trying to get back up to his feet. – “We’ve all heard the rumors!” – shouted he loud, roaring up his crowd. – “Your daughter is a stain to our society, and we don’t want her kind here!” – his men cheered loud as he threw his hand up. – “No!” – father screamed in pain, locking eyes with you in the carriage. You were terrified, unable to move as you heard them approach. They started banging on the carriage to scare you. You were being shaken around, crying in terror. – “Get… away… from my daughter!” – called your father out between clenched teeth, pushing himself to get up.
With his hand against his stomach, limped he over. Desperate to protect you till his very last breath. – “Father!” – cried you out, wanting to get out but someone was holding the door firmly. Father groaned loud, waving his fist around. He received a blow against his nose, sending him down. – “No!” – screamed you out, trying to get out of the carriage. They just walked over him like he was nothing. – “Let me out!” – yelled you out, wiping your tears aggressively away. You saw the burning torch come closer, hearing the crackling sounds from crisping wood. Screaming in agony, were you jamming hard against the door that would not budge.
“We have endured you long enough!” – shouted one of the men at you. Feeling the last bit of strength slip away, felt you lost. How could this be the end when it hasn’t even begun yet. You were going to marry the man you love. Grow old with him and share so many adventures. The torch was so close to the carriage now that it only took a good connection for the carriage to catch fire. You gasped, hearing horses neigh loud. At least three you could distinguish. You heard someone jump off the horse as their feet landed with a thud on the gravely road. Punches were being handed out. Hearing grunts of pain and anger.
You dared to pop your head out of the window, widening your eyes at your rescuers. – “Benedict!” – screamed you out loud. It caught him off guard for a moment, getting punched in the face. Feeling a bit wonky, collapsed Benedict almost to the ground. All men had moved away from the carriage, fighting against one of the Bridgerton brothers. It suddenly started to feel warm in the carriage as you spotted that the torch had been dropped. Laying against the broken wooden wheel, catching fire. You called it out, kicking your feet against the doorframe as it wouldn’t budge. – “Dear God!” – breathed Anthony out, seeing the carriage catch fire.
“Colin!” – shouted he out, punching a guy in the face. His boxing skills coming in handy after all. Colin nodded, pushing a man’s grip off him. He than ran over to the carriage, trying to pull the door open. He was kicking against it, pulling at it, anything for it to move. The carriage started to fill up with smoke as the ceiling started to catch fire as well. – “Colin!” – called you out, keeping yourself as low as possible. – “Come on!” – grunted Colin out, wanting the door to work with him. Benedict saw his brother struggling as well as the burning carriage. He fought off the handy man that he couldn’t shake off. With a bloody forehead, jumped he over some unconscious fallen men, aiding his brother.
“Y/n! it’s going to be alright love.” – reassured he you, pulling at the handle. – “It won’t work!” – answered Colin hastily. Benedict clenched his jaw, not ready to lose you. You were crying, laying with your head on the seat to stay as low as possible. Benedict moved his hand to the window frame, trying to see if you could fit through. – “I’m going to pull you out, my love, I promise you.” – called he out desperately, trying to break the framework of the window. It cracked since it had been weakened by the warmness of the flames. Benedict reached his arms into the carriage as you got up. You felt the intense heat above you, sticking your hands out. Benedict moved his arms tightly around you, lifting you up as he tried to pull you out through the open window.
Colin helped pulling, pushing your body a bit up so that it could tip you over. You popped free, falling onto Benedict as he fell to the ground. From intense happiness, cried you in his arms. Telling him how much you loved him and how scared you were. Colin helped the two of you up to your feet, moving away from the burning carriage. Anthony had fought off the last man as many others had taken a run for it. He was now helping your father up to his feet. – “Your… your bleeding.” – called you out, touching his forehead briefly. It stinged but he tried to not let you see it. – “It’s nothing.” – reassured he you, taking your hand in his.
“How… how is it that you are here?” – questioned you, laying in Benedicts arms on the grass. Your head resting against his chest while he cherished you in his embrace. – “We heard them talk about their plans.” – replied Anthony out of breath. You snuggled closer to Benedict, seeking comfort. You didn’t want to say it, but it frightened you how you were still not out of the clear. It was never simple with the two of you. Always an obstacle in the way that would prevent you from loving. A cruel society, one more turning their back on you. Benedict noticed the doubts reflecting in your eyes as he tilted your chin up to him. – “Don’t go refusing me again, Y/n. My heart can’t take it.” – chuckled he out. – “I won’t… not this time.” – responded you, looking deep into his eyes. – “I am not afraid anymore.”
Eloise clamped onto her brother with a smile on her face. Trees of blossom were spreading their petals through the wind. It was a happy day for everyone as two would be reunited into one. Benedict and you were ready to say your vows. To no longer be two, but one. For one cannot stand without the other. With pride in his eyes, gazed Benedict upon your arrival. You were dressed in all white, holding onto your father’s arm. He was being supported by a cane as his body had not healed up properly yet from the incident.
He guided you towards your intended. Eloise let go of her brother as Benedict extended his hand out to you. You let yours slip into his, walking up to him. – “Are you ready my love?“ - whispered he to you. – “You can always turn back now before you are bound to me.” – chuckled you out. – “Not a chance.” – responded he, leaving a gentle kiss against your forehead. Taking his arm, allowed you him to guide you inside. It was a small ceremony, just those close to you present. You sealed you vows with a kiss as loud cheering filled the church.
Outside hugged you everyone before your departure with your newly wedded husband. Never in a million years did you think you would call one husband. You thought no one would love you with what you carried, but one did. And one phenomenal one indeed. You couldn’t have wished for a better person to love. You finally found yourself worthy of being loved. Gregory bowed before you with a saddened face. – “Aw Gregory.” – said you, kneeling down to him.
He threw your arms around your neck, moving your arms around him. – “I’ll miss you.” – whispered he into your ear. You moved his head back, wiping a tear of his cheek. – “I’ll miss you too dear Gregory, but I promise to invite you soon as you…” – you touched his nose with your finger brief. – “don’t forget to invite me to tea as many times as you like.” – That made him laugh between his tears. You pulled yourself back up, taking Benedicts hand. You waved everyone goodbye one last time before heading off.
The wood in the fireplace was crackling delightful. You stood before it, warming your hands up to it. Benedict approached you from behind, letting his fingers go up your arm. His face buried in the crook of your neck. There he planted a kiss. A soft kiss that made you smile. His hands slowly lowered towards your waist, leaving another kiss in your neck. He pushed some fabric aside over your shoulder to kiss it as well. You melted at his touch that send shivers up your spine. – “My dear wife.” – breathed he out, kissing your bare shoulder again.
You turned around, laying your arms around his neck. – “My dear husband.” – replied you, staring dreamingly at him. He brought his lips down towards yours, whilst holding onto you firmly. He started guiding you away from the fireplace, his lips forever on yours. Kissing him with such longing, it made your heart beat out of your chest. You could feel the pounding of his heart against yours, beating for one another. Standing close by the bed, guided he his hands up. He unbuttoned you, dropping your dress to the floor. His hands then started to fumble the ribbon of your corset. You guided your hands down to his chest, unbuttoning his shirt.
With one smooth pull, untied he the knot at the top of your corset. You giggled against his lips at how eager he was. Benedict kept kissing you whilst trying to tear the corset off you. It slipped off as he let it drop to the ground. You carefully stepped out of it, standing only in your undergarments. Benedict’s hand laid against your back, feeling your warm skin underneath his palm. For the first time, felt he truly close to you. Feeling every bit of your core. You stopped kissing him for a moment, holding him as he guided his lips to your neck. He kept kissing you uncontrollably as your body warmed up by his touch.
You gasped quietly at the sudden sense. It felt unsettling as you questioned it at first if it was real. Benedict stopped kissing you, placing his hand against your cheek. – “Are you alright Y/n?” – questioned he, sensing something was off. You fluttered with your eyelashes, winching at the sting of pain coming from inside of you. You bend down, gripping onto his shirt as you held your stomach. It was happening again. One of your episodes at the worst timing. A sting of pain went through your entire body, making you collapse through your knees. Benedict gasped, preventing you from falling.
You pushed him away, falling onto the ground. He stared at you in shock, hoping you wouldn’t turn him away again. You crawled back against a closet, coughing loud. Your entire body shivering from the intense pain as Benedict witnessed your condition firsthand. You kept coughing loud, unable to stop as you let your fingers slide down your throat. Wheezing were you grasping for breath. It was like your lungs were on hold, not working for a moment as you felt like suffocating. Benedict rushed to your side, kneeling beside you. – “Breath Y/n, breath!” – called he out in a state of panic.
Your head laid back, grasping for air. You witnessed the concern in his eyes, slowly cracking him. Then gasped you loud, screaming in tears. You let your head fall forwards against Benedict’s arm, crying loud. – “Please….” – begged you him. A part of you still wanted to seclude this from him. Shield him from the pain inside of you. Your body twitched, coughing loud in your hand. Benedict was in slight shock, not knowing what to do. It was clear that he was no match for your illness. – “Please…” – begged you again, wanting him to turn a blind eye. Benedict shook his head firmly, inhaling deeply.
“I promised to love you in sickness and in health.” – replied he, letting his palm go upwards your cheek. – “What must I do?” – whispered he to you. You pointed lifelessly at the bed, unable to control your tears. Benedict carefully picked you up from the ground, leading you over to the bed. He laid you down, staring bewildered at you. You took his hand, pulling it down. You wanted him to lay beside you. So he did, laying himself carefully beside you. You rolled over to your side, pulling his hand over your body. Benedict understood what you meant, crawling closer against your body. He slid his arm underneath your body so that he could fully hold you close.
You cried in terror, wishing for the pain to go away. The pain that made every muscle in your body sting. Benedict kept his body firmly against yours, burying his face in your hair, closing his eyes. He felt the shocks your body made against his, making him grip onto you firmer. Fearing that if he faltered, you might slip away from him. – “I love you Y/n.” – said he, kissing the back of your shoulder. He wanted you to know you are so loved, even in a state like this. He thought he would be scared and at first, he was. Laying here with you, gave him the strength to carry on. He understood that you needed him, that he needed to be the better man. If this was what a life spending with you meant. Then he would gladly spend it like this. In time he would learn to pick up any of your signals better to ease your way through it.
“I am sorry…” – said you between coughs. – “What for?” – asked he, lifting his head a bit up. – “For ruining our wedding night…” – Benedict kissed your neck gently. – “Our night is not ruined my love. I say it brought me closer to you in any way possible.” – you cracked up a tiny smile, finding some joy between your pain. – “Besides I shall have from now on every night with you. You might find me annoying one day when you wish not to sleep so tightly in my embrace.” – chuckled he out. You rolled a bit over to your back, looking up to him. – “I could never…” – whispered you to him. Benedict lowered his head, kissing your forehead as you felt so weak. – “I’ll watch over you…” – said he, making you exhale deep. You rolled back to the side, clamping onto his arms around you. Like a cocoon were you held safe in his embrace. Where nothing bad could ever touch you.
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???
The first time he sees his – Anthony in five years and Anthony dares to run roughshod over his butler and burst into his wife’s family home like he owns it!
“Mama, you look - ” Agatha frowned, eyebrow furrowed as she tried to find the right word. “Happy,” she finally settled on.
Penelope laughed. ”I am quite happy, dear Aggie,” she responded, running a hand through her daughter’s red hair. ”I get to spend the day with you.”
Agatha beamed from her spot in the grass. ”I like spending the day with you too!” She tilted her head, every emotion clearly written on her face. “Why is Papa looking at you like that?”
Without needing to turn around, Penelope relaxed in her chair, letting herself smile warmly. “Your Papa is realizing something, I think.”
“Oh no, he looks mad- ”
“Penelope!” said Colin, almost panting in his effort to get to them. Penelope just laughed, free and effulgant, finding more joy as Colin’s eyes widen. “You cannot just drop that knowledge on a man, in a letter no less, and then be no where to be found!”
“But you found me, did you not?”
“Yes, but - ”
“Papa, this is me and Mama time!” Agatha stood now, hands on her hips, and glared up at her father. “Go away!”
Colin narrowed his eyes for a moment before sighing and shaking his head. “I hope the next one is a boy as well! You ladies have outnumbered me and hold an insufferable amount of control over me.” Begrudgingly, but with a small smile, he leaned forward to kiss Agatha on the head before moving past her to kiss Penelope soundly on the lips. “I love you, but I expect to celebrate properly tonight.” His eyes darken and a delicious heat warms her body. “Have to enjoy all the positions that will soon be unavailable to us.”
Without waiting for her response, Colin marched off and Penelope laughed, scooping up her daughter to force her into some much needed cuddles.
April 1826: In honor of Violet’s 60th birthday, Colin loses the beard for the first time in years. Reactions vary, with the most dramatic coming from an unexpected source.
(Inspired by scruffy!Colin in the s2 filming pics + YouTube compilations of babies’ reactions to their dads shaving, such as can be found here.)
“I’m engaged,” Thomas announced, striding into the foyer to greet Penelope. “Good afternoon, Mother.” He leaned down to give her a quick kiss on the cheek, then strode forward. “What are we having for lunch?”
Penelope hadn’t moved since the first words that had left his mouth. She stood gaping at the door. “You’re – what?”
She spun around and followed him.
“To whom, exactly, are you engaged?”
.
Penelope watches Thomas get married to his childhood friend. (x)
Standing in the doorway of his brother’s office, Gregory realized something quite astounding.
Whether it was thanks to the brandy, or just the general events of that evening, he knew that he wanted to see Lucy Abernathy.
What about, he had no idea. She was sure to be just as miserable as he was in the current moment. (Or, no, strangely enough, he wasn’t very miserable in the current moment.)
He just wanted to talk to her, he supposed. See how she was feeling. Hear what she might be thinking about all this.
He hadn’t been planning on running right into her, of course, but it had been dark in the hallway. Or, perhaps, his eyes just weren’t quite open. Oh, well. If the world was going to keep springing surprises on him that night, they might as well be ones that suited him.
And it was nice speaking to her. Watching the way her mouth moved as she talked, lips parting and closing as she stumbled into a bout of coughing. The light was dim, but he could still make out the angles on her face. The wave of her cheek. The soft curves of her nose and lips.
Huh. The slight pout of the bottom one, the pleasant bow the top one made. He hadn’t really considered the curve of her lips before.
Alright, he supposed he had thought about it. Once, maybe twice. But it hadn’t been serious then.
Now, however.
Now, it was serious. He truly was considering it.
Strangely, he hadn’t considered Hermione’s lips, just her neck.
Why had he been so concerned with necks when lips were right there?
She looked quite nice, he thought as they continued talking. Lucy. Lucinda. Lady Lucinda. Quite nice, indeed.
Though he couldn’t see the color of her eyes in the moonlight peeking out through the open doorways, he could see their shape. Could see her lashes fluttering as she blinked. Could imagine those seven freckles on her face, including the one shaped like Ireland. It was a funny detail for a funny girl. A freckle shaped like Ireland.
He really was in a good mood. Maybe even a great one. Who would have believed that to be possible?
The woman he’d reckoned himself in love with was currently engaged to another man. A man who had punched Gregory just earlier that evening. A man who he’d sworn was his worst enemy not twenty-four hours ago.
And now?
Now, he simply did not care. He felt warmth in his belly. Comfort. Content.
Perhaps even happy.
Lucy had claimed she was leaving, multiple times, in fact, but still, there she stood, right in front of him.
Meanwhile, Gregory was deliberating whether his good humor was brought on by the brandy or not. Simon- or maybe it was Colin- once told him that a good brandy was all that a man needed to rejuvenate himself. He hadn’t been convinced then, but now he was coming around to the idea.
Hm. Lucy was sensible. Really sensible, actually. She might be a good person to ask about this sort of thing.
He liked her. Lucy. She was a fine girl. Overly apologetic, that much was for certain. And a bit too honest, definitely. But still, nice. Good manners. Strong taste in sandwiches. A fortunate skill to have, indeed.
His mood really was exceptional. He felt like smiling, laughing. Frankly, there was little else he’d enjoy more at the moment than standing in this well-furnished hallway with Lucy Abernathy.
Her mood wasn’t as nice, he noticed. Unlike him, she’d been surprised to see her brother on the verge of ruining her best friend. To find how the secret love he’d been housing from her.
Huh. Gregory suddenly wondered how he would feel in her position. Maybe if he’d caught Hyacinth and Gareth like that, back before they were married. He really couldn’t picture it.
Squinting, he inspected her. He watched her swallow, seeing the way her throat moved. His eyes moved upwards though, far more interested in the way her mouth tightened.
She was telling him that she was unsettled by the entire situation. It was likely the way he should have felt.
But he didn’t.
She was grabbing his arm, telling him that it wasn’t right. He agreed, whether in his head or aloud, he did not know. All he knew was that Lucy deserved better, deserved to feel better.
His arm tingled where she held it. Where her meticulous fingers met his exposed forearm. The pulse through her hand made its way to his own veins.
It really, really wasn’t right for her to be unhappy. Pretty Lucy, nice Lucy, good Lucy. She deserved to feel as free and unconcerned as he did.
She really was quite pretty, what with the round, moonlit eyes, and soft, curvy lips.
Curvy lips- was that a thing? A curve of a lip surely was.
He liked the way they moved when she talked. She was always talking. Talking, talking, talking.
Until she wasn’t anymore.
She wasn’t talking because his lips had gotten in the way.
He was kissing her.
Lucy. He was kissing Lucy.
And he was enjoying it. Immensely.
Suddenly, he didn’t feel drunk anymore. His mind felt clear and sharp, and he knew that he was doing the exact right thing.
His hands found her waist, then the small of her back. The feeling of velvet on his fingertips. The feeling of her body moving into his, fitting like half of a broken vase.
It was unexpected, she was unexpected.
Her hands ran up his arms, leaving a trail of fire singing the fabric separating them, until her delicate fingers met the skin above his collar. He shivered into the kiss.
Her lips parted, a sigh passing from her mouth to his as he was let in. He groaned, his own hand making its way to her hair, caressing fingers edging a few locks out of their pins.
He wanted more, far more than he knew he should. Lucinda Abernathy was a lady, an innocent, someone untouchable; certainly not someone he was meant to be attempting to consume in his brother’s hallway.
But he wanted this. Desperately, God help him, he wanted this.
Her back arched under his grip, and his lips pried themselves from hers to meet her jaw, taking in all that he could.
It was inconceivable to think he hadn’t noticed her immediately. Not when he now saw her as the siren that she was.
The siren that had noticed the sailor upon their very first moment.
Whether she’d have been willing to admit it or not, Lucy had liked Gregory from the start. The very second he had come up and kissed her hand first.
But he’d chosen Hermione, of course, and Lucy herself was practically engaged. Of course.
Practically.
But he was so handsome. And endearing. And when they spoke, it really felt like he was listening to her. To her, Lucy. Not Hermione’s friend, not Richard’s sister. Just Lucy.
And now, he was here, with her. Nipping at the corners of her mouth, running his teeth over her lower lip, placing frantic kisses down her neck. Her stomach jolted as his lips met a sensitive spot right where her neck met her collarbone. She didn’t even realize that she’d let out a moan until he lingered there, sucking in the bit of skin.
“Lucy… My God, Lucy,” he whispered against her, the words sliding down her spine like ice.
She’d never heard her name said like that, with reverence, desire. Worship. Like a vow
She wanted to say his name. Claim it the same way he had hers. The word would not come out.
Hands were everywhere- tugging, cupping, caressing.
Hers made their way into his hair, his lower down her back, pulling her even closer. Closer until their bodies were pressed together, every inch melting into the other. It was the closest she’d ever been with anyone, and she could feel him- all of him.
Still, it wasn’t close enough. Still, she wanted more.
Her back met the wall, Gregory’s weight pressing her against it. Her fingers clawed him, pulling him closer, closer. Hearts pounding against each other. Desperation swelled between them, hands clambering to take more and more. Sighs were exchanged through kisses, mystifying sounds that somehow resembled music in their minds.
That sliver of exposed skin in his open shirt collar, the one Lucy had not allowed herself to admire mere minutes ago, met her fingertips as they ran up his chest. He groaned, his hand crawling back up to her hip, then her ribs, to meet her own chest.
Lucy gasped, feeling as though her knees might give out at any moment. She wanted to fall to the floor with him, to feel the entire weight of his body on hers.
And then they were sliding and shifting. And it was Gregory’s back to the wall and Lucy on his lap, knees around his hips. His hands moved, finding her ankles, then her calves, hiking up her skirts until his fingers rested on her thighs, pressing into her skin.
Her hands moved inside his vest, grasping for whatever she could. No matter what, it wasn’t enough- none of it was ever enough.
Gregory wanted it just as much, his entire body screaming at him to keep going, to take it further. He couldn’t control himself, couldn’t get himself to think about it rationally. This was Lucy, and she was magnificent. He groaned as he pulled her closer onto his lap.
She would never be close enough.
Closer, closer, closer-
They broke apart, a loud slam of a door echoing around them.
Neither of them spoke, neither of them breathed. The dismay, the fear of someone coming down toward them froze them in place. Lucy glanced at Gregory, his chest dramatically rising and falling as he looked down the hall, hand gripping hers.
She was petrified of what she might hear next.
But, appallingly, it wasn’t the thought of someone catching them that scared her. It was simply the thought of someone coming and forcing them to hide, to halt this one divine moment in her life.
This one moment where she finally understood what life was about.
They waited in silence for eighteen seconds- anticipating, listening. Neither of them moved, not from the hallway and not from each other. Frightened out of their minds that someone from Gregory’s family, or worse, a rogue guest as she had been, would be making their way towards them.
Yet still, they did not move. They did not separate themselves. They were still entangled in each other, everything scandalizingly close. Still blissfully close.
No one came. The hallway stayed empty apart from them. The only sounds that could be heard were from the faint melody coming from the ballroom (or, perhaps, it was just the symphony playing in Lucy’s mind).
Finally, Gregory turned back, meeting her eyes. Like a bolt of lightning.
They were pressed together again. “Lucy,” he breathed, eyes clearing.
Her name on his lips. The heat that came from it. Her own words slipped out.
“Can we go somewhere more private?”
His body froze against hers, breaths mixing together in the small space between them. The space that felt like nothing at all and yet still too much.
He looked at her with all the care in the world. A concerned crinkle of his brow. “Lucy…”
“Gregory.” A secret oath, meant just for him. She leaned in to kiss him again, wanting the rapture again. Wanting the elation. “Gregory.”
An oath that felt so right, but so wrong at the same time.
She could taste the faint remnants of brandy, or she could imagine it. Her head jerked to the bottle just a few feet away.
A reminder. A blow. A shove back to reality.
He was drunk.
Not totally, of course, but enough.
He had been in love with her best friend not two hours before.
He was heartbroken, and she was the nearest diversion.
She could have ignored it all, she had ignored it. But she couldn’t do it again. Not when his name felt so much like hers even when he wasn’t.
Not when her name sounded like it belonged to him, yet neither it nor she did.
Slowly, Lucy stood up, straightening her skirts on wobbly legs. Gregory reached out to assist her, and she stepped away, unable to look at him.
“No. I can’t do this.”
And she couldn’t.
Gregory was in love with someone else, and she was meant to be engaged by the end of the season.
He had given her the best moment of her life, and she was thankful for it. But she couldn’t. They couldn’t.
Summary: who’d have thought a dance with the Viscount could lead to such shocking revelations?
Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x female!reader
Warnings: none!! Pure fluff!!!
You smoothed down the soft jewel toned dress you wore as your mother grabbed onto your arm, all but dragging you into the ballroom.
An abundance of eyes rested on you but not one pair had your interest. In fact, you were rather appalled by the idea of being traded to one of these lords for just a sizeable dowry.
“Darling, I expect you’ll be polite. Your future husband could be gracing this room with his presence as we speak.” Your mother murmurs in your ear and you force a stiff smile to your lips, taking a deep breath through your nose as you simply nod in response.
As you gracefully trapse down the stairway in lady Danbury’s home, you try your best to pretend you’re nowhere near here, like you’re instead at home, in the drawing room with your family.
“Lady y/l/n, would you care to dance with me?” A young man you barely recognize asks politely, stepping directly in front of you as you reach the bottom step, leaving you with a small height advantage to the man in front of you.
You look to your mama with a pleading look, giving it your all but she simply gives him a wide grin and nods, shooing you off her arm. You on the other hand, would rather hide behind her and grab hold of the entrails of her skirt like a shy child.
You take his hand hesitantly, letting him fill out your dance card with a look of despair, glancing around the grand room for anyone you could possibly recognize. You noticed a few of the Bridgertons gallivanting about, including Eloise, one of your dearest friends. You decided then and there you would make your escape to her soon enough, after one dance with the Lord Norton, as you finally read his name to be. Surely she would come up with a plan to get you out of there in one piece and with no suitors in tow.
The young man grabbed stiff and awkward hold of your hand and waist, making you want to wince though you know your mother would later scold you for it if you did, so you remained of neutral face.
“I have heard you are quite the dancer lady y/l/n. Perhaps you could show me so tonight?” He suggests and you force yet another kind smile and a nod.
“Yes perhaps so.” You say meekly, trying to withhold the frown you wanted to let free.
The song went on for a painfully long time and when it ended, you couldn’t get away fast enough. You pretended to notice someone new and excused yourself, slipping through the crowd of people to the outskirts of the dancefloor where Eloise is standing, watching everything with a disgusted look.
“My thoughts exactly.” You say dryly, moving to stand next to her, happy to slink in the shadows for the remainder of the evening.
“It is dreadful isn’t it, being thrown into the ton like cattle to be bought or won? I mean really, how ladylike is that truly?” Eloise asks you, earning some looks from the surrounding Mamas.
The two of you stand in silence for a minute after that, holding in giggles until they’ve dispersed and forgotten about you.
“My brother is a part of it this year. As are you. I suppose the two of you should form some sort of amicable alliance, protect each other from the upcoming stampede of desperates?” She suggests.
“Careful, my mama may hear you and believe that to mean you’re offering me a Bridgerton husband on a silver platter.” You laugh, giggling along with Eloise. Your laughs quiet down as Anthony himself approaches, as though he sensed his presence in the conversation.
“Have you filled your card so soon Lady y/l/n? A shame, I was to ask you for a dance to rid me of the swarm that seems to follow my every step.” He says with a small grin, making you grow a real smile.
“Perhaps there is room for one more partner, though you’ll have to take my wrist to find out, I realize that comes as a difficulty to you lord Bridgerton.” You tease back, noticing the eyes of lord Norton calling to you. You ignore the patronizing look, instead choosing to further tease the viscount by raising your arm so your dance card dangles right in front of his face, raising a challenging eyebrow to him.
The two of you had been performing this rouse with each other for longer than you could remember. The friendships between your families went back years, long before you or Anthony were even a faint thought and so, you’d known each other quite literally your whole lives. Instead of a fast friendship though, you challenged each other at every event, taking turns teasing the other and leading them to a sort of trap. Typically, whichever of you blushed or flustered easier was the loser of the little game you played.
“Well lord Bridgerton? Will you accompany me to the dance floor, or shall I do something truly improper and heaven forbid request your sister’s company instead?” You grin wickedly, watching him roll his eyes as he gently takes your wrist and tickles your gloved hand with the end, writing his name in the second space.
As the current song falls to an end, you take the Lord Bridgertons hand in yours before he even has the option of taking yours first. He looks slightly shocked for a moment but then smiles mischievously before taking strong hold of your waist, pulling you that much closer to him and earning a small gasp in return.
“Were you not expecting that?” He asks, faking confusion as you shake your head with a laugh.
“You are nothing like these mamas think you are viscount. You’ll likely corrupt their poor young ladies with the most miniscule of grins.” You say cheekily, earning a chuckle from him.
He twirls you around and right back into his chest.
“Perhaps I like being an element of surprise in this traditional stiff game.” He suggests, his own eyebrow raised. You scoff a laugh, getting another eyebrow in return. “Do you find my statement humorous?” He says directly into the shell of your ear.
You turn yourself around, back to his hand in yours and the other resting on the small of your back as you sway.
“Not at all, I merely find it untrue. You are a perfect gentleman, a true nobleman and a good man to your family. You, just as the Duke of Hastings was, are every mamas dream. Good looks, good societal stature. I’m surprised my own mama has not yet thrown me at you herself.” You explain.
“You must have spoken too soon, your mother is hastily making her way to us as we dance.” He smirks back, releasing you from his grasp just as the song comes to an end.
“Y/n!” Your mother hisses, carefully and somehow gracefully storming up to you.
“Yes mama?” You ask sweetly, letting her guide you off to the side, a more private place to chat.
“What on earth are you doing? You are to be meeting potential husbands, not off with the viscount again. You make this same attempt every event. Unless you intend to court him, you must demonstrate your availability to the eligible young men who are truly interested.” She scolds, making you bow your head with a sigh.
“Mama I was being polite. Lord Bridgerton asked me to dance and I obliged out of duty. If I had turned him down, imagine how I would appear to all others!” You insist, coming up with excuses on the spot. She sighs and waves you away, walking off to gossip with Cressidas mama some more.
You groan quietly, carefully making your own way over to the refreshments, grabbing a glass of lemonade and taking a delicate sip.
“Tart is it not?” A voice asks behind you, taking you by surprise.
You turn to find Lady Danbury herself and you smile kindly, letting your shoulders rerelax themselves.
“Yes my lady. I believe it is one of the best batches yet.” You say with a grin, getting one right back from her.
“I noticed you having a beautiful dance with lord Bridgerton. Am I right to assume there may be a flame between the two of you? A viscount is quite the prize to win, I’m sure your family would be proud.” She suggests with a knowing grin.
“Oh! no, no. You should have us mistaken Lady Danbury! The viscount and I are merely old family friends. There is no courtship there.” You chuckled, astonished by the accusation.
“Really? I mean are you sure? Perhaps it is more to him than ‘tis to you but I did see a very particular glimmer in both your eyes as you danced. He shall remain at least a little jealous of the suitors you gain from that little dance.” She smiles, patting a hand over your own thoughtfully.
You, too stunned to speak, simply nod politely and excuse yourself, turning to make your leave and instead bumping right into Anthony Bridgerton himself.
“My apologies.” You mumble, your face flushed as you rush the other way, completely puzzling the man.
You practically all but ran outside, gathering your billowing skirt and making your way through the maze of a garden. Your head felt fuzzy and full, you didn’t know what to think.
“Lady y/l/n!” A familiar voice cries after you.
“Leave me to my thoughts Mr. Bridgerton!” You plead, running a hand over your face.
“Perhaps I may help? Come please… y/n we’ve known each other too long for you to dismiss me in such a manner. What troubles you? Is it the lord Norton, because if it was, I shall have a word with him.” He says, suddenly very protective of your integrity.
You snort again lightly. “Lord Bridgerton it is nothing of the sort! In fact, it is the affections of another that leave me so perplexed.” You sigh, shaking your head as you let out a breath.
“I see… and which gentleman may that be?” He asks, hiding the smidge of jealousy that dares to ring in his voice.
“It is not my place to say. Perhaps he could tell you himself, he is standing in this very garden after all.” You joke, a frown taking its place on your lips.
You laugh stiffly as he turns his head every which way, looking for the man in question.
“Lady y/l/n, there is no other man around… or is it too dark for me to possibly notice him?” Anthony asks, clearly completely clueless to what you’re explaining.
“You! I am referring to you Lord Bridgerton!” You decree, turning round swiftly to meet his wide eyes with your own troubled ones.
He remains silent, staring back at you, mouth agape. Anthony was used to such proclamations from random young women in town however you were no ordinary young woman. You were lady y/l/n. You were the lady he had so admired, so come to love. Since the moment the two of you reached an age where you developed feelings for the other gender, he was enamored by you. There was no other who smiled, laughed, joked or looked at him in such a way as you did and that held his affections more strongly than anything else could.
His inability to speak left you with a deep frown of your own, your lip quivering slightly as you bow your head in embarrassment.
“Very well, I see I was led astray. No need to fret, plenty of suitors anyway so no matter.” You say, your cheeks once again flushed.
He quickly recovers from his own daze at the sight of you turning away from him once again, carefully grabbing your wrist and pulling you back towards him.
“Anthony we should not even be out on our own, with no chaperone in sight… it is improper, you know this.” You say, trying to find any possible way to excuse yourself from the conversation you’d started.
“Just as improper as dropping the formalities before so much as the suggestion of courtship?” He challenges, making you go silent.
“Y/n I have never once denied an attraction to you. Do you truly believe me to be such a fool that I would not see your exquisite beauty?” He asks thoughtfully, catching your attention once again, your lips parted in complete surprise at his words. Your face is crimson without the need for the rouge on your cheeks, and you laugh out of sheer confusion.
“Honestly? Yes, I believed that perhaps your affections are captured by another young lady from the town. Possibly the young opera singer…” You suggest, laughing at your own joke.
“Sienna is… she is important to me yes but I’ve only been with her because I believed you to be promised to another, though I now see your hand is not yet taken.” He hums, smiling lightly at you.
“Lord Bridgerton… I do not have words that could respond to your advances… it seems highly inappropriate.” You say, going to turn away again, breaking the remaining hold his hand has over the cuff of your gloves.
“Y/n please drop the title. I see it as meant for those who do not truly know me however we are both very aware of the fact that you and I know each other perfectly well.” He says, gently lifting your chin to make eye contact with him once again.
“Very well, Anthony. This is highly unlike you. I’ve never seen you lose your proper language and tone before, not at public events anyway.” You state, fully aware of your close proximity to the viscount.
“On the contrary I do like to play the wildcard from time to time. And I regard you in too high a manner to pretend we are nothing less than the normal.” He says, moving in closer to you, taking your breath away.
He continues his approach, making you bite your lip with the widest of eyes, unable to speak.
A moment later you return to your senses, blinking out of your fairytale moment.
“We cannot go any further… not unless you’re prepared to propose.” You say, backing up to build distance.
He continued to stare you down, trying to convince you to return his affections with only a look.
“You should like to paint a picture.” You joke in attempts to lighten the mood.
“Y/n if that is all it takes, I shall marry you in a few months time.” He announces, pulling you into his arms and swinging you around with joy.
“What a very romantic proposal, I may just swoon.” You say sarcastically, laughing as he puts you down with his own perplexed look.
“Whatever do you mean y/n? You asked for a proposal and i obliged.” He says, making you let out a snort.
“You obliged?! As though proposing to take my hand is some sort of duty you are ‘obliged’ to do. When I said proposal I meant a truly proper one. You must ask my father for permission to propose, you must bring flowers and be in the drawing room when we announce it as official.” You explain. “I am shocked you did not think of it, you were so very insistent upon it when it came to your own sister last season.” You scoff.
“If you should truly mean what you are asking, you shall be at y/l/n house tomorrow morning to treat me as the lady I am rather than a common whore you wish to trick. Understood?” You ask before he gets the chance to object your ultimatum.
He gulps and then nods rapidly, afraid to speak in case of offending you or further entangling the web of your relationship, watching you smile back at him and walk away, back to the party and away from him.
——————————————————
The next morning…
The very next morning, all of the eligible ladies of the ton are eagerly waiting for their dukes and viscounts and gentlemen to come calling. The center of London is bustling with activity of carriages, footmen and of course their gentlemen calling on the women they seek.
You are among those not so patiently waiting. Since you’d woken, you were in the drawing room, pretending to be distracted by books and needlepoint but in reality, being completely anxious for the day to come.
After you’d left Anthony and returned indoors, the night was somewhat of a blur. Your thoughts remained on Anthony but your physical presence was there, on the floor, where another gentleman, though much older than the others who seemed to fancy you, had asked for your third dance. You agreed, not wanting to be impolite or for your mother to have reason to invoke her rath.
So, you danced with the lord Gillington, and it was all fine but you held no interest in him, nor in Lord Newton, who apparently was to stop by today as well.
When the third dance ended you faked a headache and feigned fatigue to your mother, who reluctantly agreed. There were other eyes on you and she would have preferred you have at least one more dance but you had done as she asked and that was all she could hope for.
You arrived home early but that wasn’t to say you slept well. You were restless, worrying over the possibilities for the next day. Surely Anthony would never lead you on in a way such as this for your silly little game but there was no certainty there. Still you took comfort in knowing that he was typically a man of his word.
But now, as you sat twiddling with your thumbs, you weren’t so certain. He was as he liked to put it now ‘a wildcard’ when it came to romance and you had never actually attempted such a thing in your relationship.
You ignored your nerves and smoothed down your silky day dress and took yet another deep breath, getting ready to settle back in when one of your staff enter the room. Quickly you rise to your feet.
“A gentleman is here for ms. Y/l/n.” He announces and you smile wide at your mother.
“Send him in then!” She urges, just as excitedly.
He obliges and a minute later a man enters but your face falls as you see its not who you’d hoped.
“Lord Newton.” You greet, pasting as much of a smile as you can muster on your face, taking the delicate bouquet he holds into your own hands and giving them a polite smell.
“Lady y/l/n. You look beautiful, as always.” He greets back, lightly kissing your hand. Your mother looks ecstatic but you couldn’t be less so.
You knew it best to keep your options open but it wasn’t your nature. You were interested in one man and one man alone and it was all his own fault.
“Thank you lord Newton, that’s very kind of you. Would you like to sit?” You ask, sitting back down on the chaise, patting it lightly for him.
He graciously accepts, sitting next to you.
“I have come to ask if you should like to court, lady y/l/n? I do not wish to be too forward however I am quite taken with you my lady.” He states, smiling back at you and you don’t even have to look at your mother to know she’s likely bouncing with joy.
“I-” You start but he is quick to interrupt, something you don’t take kindly to.
“You need not make haste with your decision, I’m aware you will have more suitors throughout the day. I only wish to make my intentions known.” He says, once again kissing your hand. “I shall take my leave. Lady y/l/n. Lady y/l/n.” He says, bowing before walking out the door.
“Oh dearest! That is practically your first proposal! Of many I am certain.” Your mother cheers, hugging you tightly, laughing with joy.
You nod meekly, trying to stay somewhat happy for your mothers sake.
Throughout the day, callers come and go, bearing gifts and kind words nonstop. The room is a festival of colours and chatter and the sweet fragrance of florals everywhere. And yet, no Bridgerton caller had arrived thus far.
“Perhaps Lady Whistledown shall write bright things about our home this week! You are getting plenty of attention from the best of the gentlemen.” Your mama says as the latest of the male callers take their leave.
“Yes perhaps this is true mama.” You say with another smile.
As you take a seat, another caller arrives and you stand yet again with a weak smile, tired of the anticipation of the days end drawing near.
“Lord Ambrose for you my lady.” The staff announces and you smile as you dismiss him.
“Lord Ambrose how delightful to see you.” You greet, taking a seat with him. In that moment, your youngest sister runs into the room, chased by your younger brother.
“Children!” Your mother warns, trying to toss them out of the room.
“It is no bother mama, they may stay. That is if it does not displease you Lord Ambrose?” You ask, turning to him for answer.
“Certainly not, I do love children, it is not a bother at all.” He replies, smiling more at you.
The two of you make chitchat for a while, watching the younger y/l/n children play together happily, passing time surprisingly pleasantly.
“I shall leave, I have had a wonderful afternoon with you my lady. I do hope you’ll consider perhaps courting me this season?” He asks and you feel your smile slipping at yet another sort of proposal.
“Perhaps yes, I shall need some time to consider.” You reply, watching as he accepts the excuse, kisses your hand and leaves.
Your smile falls, watching out the window as the sun falling slowly.
Your eyes dart to the ground when another carriage arrives and you’re quick to sit back down, your mama and your papa, who had just come in from his study, both giving you looks of confusion.
“Another caller I think. We shall see who it is in a moments time.” You grin, hope still heavy in your heart.
Your sister runs over to you and takes a seat next to you, playing with your skirt but you ignore it, watching the doorway intently.
“The viscount Bridgerton is here for you my lady.” He says and your grin grows all the bigger.
“Send him in!” You say with as much eager energy in your voice as your mother had early on.
And so, in walks Anthony, with a large and stunning bouquet of his own and a smile you couldn’t compare to any of the other gifts you’d received today because if you even tried, the rest would never hold a chance.
“My Lord.” You smile, bowing low to him. “I do believe I said this morning.” You tease as you rise, speaking low so your parents cannot hear.
He smiles wider at your cheeky tone. “Yes, I do apologize for the late hour, I had difficulty getting anything appropriate from the florist, so many desperate suitors looking for their own and of course I needed one that could compare to your on beauty though I realize that to be nearly impossible.” He explains and you purse your lips as though thinking whether to believe him or not.
“Lord Bridgerton.” Your mother greets him, bringing your attention to the fact that you are not alone.
“Lady y/l/n, a pleasure. And lord y/l/n, it is an honor to see you again.” Anthony greets both your parents, making your glee spread that much more.
“You as well lord Bridgerton.” Your father says, standing to shake his hand.
“I actually have some matters I’d like to discuss with you my lord. Shall we excuse ourselves?” Anthony asks and your father nods. The men take their leave to the study, your little brother chasing after them, eager to listen in. Your mother tries to stop him but he ignores her and she’s clearly too tired to try anymore.
“Might I ask dearest, what it is that prompted the Viscounts call?” She asks you, raising an eyebrow.
“I believe it was Lady Danbury’s revelations after we shared a dance last night. It would seem his mother and her ladyship have noticed something that myself and Lord Bridgerton have not. Until now that is.” You smile, keeping the true reason a secret for Anthony and yourself to hold tight.
“I see…” She hums unsurely, still going back to her needlepointing rather than investigate any longer.
You remain playing with your younger sister, waiting eagerly for the men to finish their business, wishing nothing more than to be a part of the discussion.
In your own frustration and excitement, you barely notice Anthony’s returned to the room. Instead of telling you, he is mesmerized by watching you and your sister, smiling fully at the sight of you with a child. He had seen you interact with them before of course, but with the chance to finally have you for himself, Anthony couldn’t help picturing you as a mother and he couldn’t be more pleased with the idea.
Settling down was never something that had been on his mind, especially with romance actually taking part in it. He had always pictured a loveless marriage with many kids and his duties to keep both him and his wife occupied. But never in those images did he picture you as his wife. He pictured you with a prince or someone more worthy of your love, never himself. But the idea wasn’t unpleasant to him, instead it was a great joy to picture.
“Lady y/l/n, might I have a moment?” He asks and you gasp, jumping to your feet out of surprise.
“Yes of course lord Bridgerton.” You smile, your face once again flushed, causing him to stifle a chuckle.
The two of you enter the corridor, where he takes your hand in his. Your breath hitches and your heart is pounding in your chest.
“I have done as you asked. I have made myself look a bit of a fool in your honor, I have done the thing I never once imagined myself doing, and I have fallen in love with you. Love in a marriage has always been a great virtue but I never pictured it for myself until last night. I can see us starting a family, I can see us happy together. Lady y/l/n, y/n, would you allow me to ask for your hand? Your papa has agreed so long as it is in your wishes. I’m sure your mama would agree as well. There would be no greater honor for me.” He finally asks, making you giggle with excitement, real excitement this time.
“Anthony, you are the only man who causes me true and real joy. I know you to be a good and kind man. Yes I will marry you.” You smile, giggling as he hugs you tightly, trying hard to stick to your honor.
“That is good because I did see Lord Ambrose leaving earlier and I must tell you, he is something of a cheat. Cannot be trusted.” He says jealously and you scoff, giggling again.
“I believe I am the one who has you flustered this time, by the way.” He murmurs as you walk back into the drawing room to announce the news to your family.
“I believe that both of us have that challenge covered this time my lord.” You challenge quietly just before you declare your engagement to your family, leaving him both in want of you and puzzled by you all at once, just as both of you know you’ll likely do your whole marriage.
YOU GUYSSSSSSS I can’t believe how popular this fic has gotten, I love you all so much thank you for reading ❤️❤️
Summary: who’d have thought a dance with the Viscount could lead to such shocking revelations?
Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x female!reader
Warnings: none!! Pure fluff!!!
You smoothed down the soft jewel toned dress you wore as your mother grabbed onto your arm, all but dragging you into the ballroom.
An abundance of eyes rested on you but not one pair had your interest. In fact, you were rather appalled by the idea of being traded to one of these lords for just a sizeable dowry.
“Darling, I expect you’ll be polite. Your future husband could be gracing this room with his presence as we speak.” Your mother murmurs in your ear and you force a stiff smile to your lips, taking a deep breath through your nose as you simply nod in response.
As you gracefully trapse down the stairway in lady Danbury’s home, you try your best to pretend you’re nowhere near here, like you’re instead at home, in the drawing room with your family.
“Lady y/l/n, would you care to dance with me?” A young man you barely recognize asks politely, stepping directly in front of you as you reach the bottom step, leaving you with a small height advantage to the man in front of you.
You look to your mama with a pleading look, giving it your all but she simply gives him a wide grin and nods, shooing you off her arm. You on the other hand, would rather hide behind her and grab hold of the entrails of her skirt like a shy child.
You take his hand hesitantly, letting him fill out your dance card with a look of despair, glancing around the grand room for anyone you could possibly recognize. You noticed a few of the Bridgertons gallivanting about, including Eloise, one of your dearest friends. You decided then and there you would make your escape to her soon enough, after one dance with the Lord Norton, as you finally read his name to be. Surely she would come up with a plan to get you out of there in one piece and with no suitors in tow.
The young man grabbed stiff and awkward hold of your hand and waist, making you want to wince though you know your mother would later scold you for it if you did, so you remained of neutral face.
“I have heard you are quite the dancer lady y/l/n. Perhaps you could show me so tonight?” He suggests and you force yet another kind smile and a nod.
“Yes perhaps so.” You say meekly, trying to withhold the frown you wanted to let free.
The song went on for a painfully long time and when it ended, you couldn’t get away fast enough. You pretended to notice someone new and excused yourself, slipping through the crowd of people to the outskirts of the dancefloor where Eloise is standing, watching everything with a disgusted look.
“My thoughts exactly.” You say dryly, moving to stand next to her, happy to slink in the shadows for the remainder of the evening.
“It is dreadful isn’t it, being thrown into the ton like cattle to be bought or won? I mean really, how ladylike is that truly?” Eloise asks you, earning some looks from the surrounding Mamas.
The two of you stand in silence for a minute after that, holding in giggles until they’ve dispersed and forgotten about you.
“My brother is a part of it this year. As are you. I suppose the two of you should form some sort of amicable alliance, protect each other from the upcoming stampede of desperates?” She suggests.
“Careful, my mama may hear you and believe that to mean you’re offering me a Bridgerton husband on a silver platter.” You laugh, giggling along with Eloise. Your laughs quiet down as Anthony himself approaches, as though he sensed his presence in the conversation.
“Have you filled your card so soon Lady y/l/n? A shame, I was to ask you for a dance to rid me of the swarm that seems to follow my every step.” He says with a small grin, making you grow a real smile.
“Perhaps there is room for one more partner, though you’ll have to take my wrist to find out, I realize that comes as a difficulty to you lord Bridgerton.” You tease back, noticing the eyes of lord Norton calling to you. You ignore the patronizing look, instead choosing to further tease the viscount by raising your arm so your dance card dangles right in front of his face, raising a challenging eyebrow to him.
The two of you had been performing this rouse with each other for longer than you could remember. The friendships between your families went back years, long before you or Anthony were even a faint thought and so, you’d known each other quite literally your whole lives. Instead of a fast friendship though, you challenged each other at every event, taking turns teasing the other and leading them to a sort of trap. Typically, whichever of you blushed or flustered easier was the loser of the little game you played.
“Well lord Bridgerton? Will you accompany me to the dance floor, or shall I do something truly improper and heaven forbid request your sister’s company instead?” You grin wickedly, watching him roll his eyes as he gently takes your wrist and tickles your gloved hand with the end, writing his name in the second space.
As the current song falls to an end, you take the Lord Bridgertons hand in yours before he even has the option of taking yours first. He looks slightly shocked for a moment but then smiles mischievously before taking strong hold of your waist, pulling you that much closer to him and earning a small gasp in return.
“Were you not expecting that?” He asks, faking confusion as you shake your head with a laugh.
“You are nothing like these mamas think you are viscount. You’ll likely corrupt their poor young ladies with the most miniscule of grins.” You say cheekily, earning a chuckle from him.
He twirls you around and right back into his chest.
“Perhaps I like being an element of surprise in this traditional stiff game.” He suggests, his own eyebrow raised. You scoff a laugh, getting another eyebrow in return. “Do you find my statement humorous?” He says directly into the shell of your ear.
You turn yourself around, back to his hand in yours and the other resting on the small of your back as you sway.
“Not at all, I merely find it untrue. You are a perfect gentleman, a true nobleman and a good man to your family. You, just as the Duke of Hastings was, are every mamas dream. Good looks, good societal stature. I’m surprised my own mama has not yet thrown me at you herself.” You explain.
“You must have spoken too soon, your mother is hastily making her way to us as we dance.” He smirks back, releasing you from his grasp just as the song comes to an end.
“Y/n!” Your mother hisses, carefully and somehow gracefully storming up to you.
“Yes mama?” You ask sweetly, letting her guide you off to the side, a more private place to chat.
“What on earth are you doing? You are to be meeting potential husbands, not off with the viscount again. You make this same attempt every event. Unless you intend to court him, you must demonstrate your availability to the eligible young men who are truly interested.” She scolds, making you bow your head with a sigh.
“Mama I was being polite. Lord Bridgerton asked me to dance and I obliged out of duty. If I had turned him down, imagine how I would appear to all others!” You insist, coming up with excuses on the spot. She sighs and waves you away, walking off to gossip with Cressidas mama some more.
You groan quietly, carefully making your own way over to the refreshments, grabbing a glass of lemonade and taking a delicate sip.
“Tart is it not?” A voice asks behind you, taking you by surprise.
You turn to find Lady Danbury herself and you smile kindly, letting your shoulders rerelax themselves.
“Yes my lady. I believe it is one of the best batches yet.” You say with a grin, getting one right back from her.
“I noticed you having a beautiful dance with lord Bridgerton. Am I right to assume there may be a flame between the two of you? A viscount is quite the prize to win, I’m sure your family would be proud.” She suggests with a knowing grin.
“Oh! no, no. You should have us mistaken Lady Danbury! The viscount and I are merely old family friends. There is no courtship there.” You chuckled, astonished by the accusation.
“Really? I mean are you sure? Perhaps it is more to him than ‘tis to you but I did see a very particular glimmer in both your eyes as you danced. He shall remain at least a little jealous of the suitors you gain from that little dance.” She smiles, patting a hand over your own thoughtfully.
You, too stunned to speak, simply nod politely and excuse yourself, turning to make your leave and instead bumping right into Anthony Bridgerton himself.
“My apologies.” You mumble, your face flushed as you rush the other way, completely puzzling the man.
You practically all but ran outside, gathering your billowing skirt and making your way through the maze of a garden. Your head felt fuzzy and full, you didn’t know what to think.
“Lady y/l/n!” A familiar voice cries after you.
“Leave me to my thoughts Mr. Bridgerton!” You plead, running a hand over your face.
“Perhaps I may help? Come please… y/n we’ve known each other too long for you to dismiss me in such a manner. What troubles you? Is it the lord Norton, because if it was, I shall have a word with him.” He says, suddenly very protective of your integrity.
You snort again lightly. “Lord Bridgerton it is nothing of the sort! In fact, it is the affections of another that leave me so perplexed.” You sigh, shaking your head as you let out a breath.
“I see… and which gentleman may that be?” He asks, hiding the smidge of jealousy that dares to ring in his voice.
“It is not my place to say. Perhaps he could tell you himself, he is standing in this very garden after all.” You joke, a frown taking its place on your lips.
You laugh stiffly as he turns his head every which way, looking for the man in question.
“Lady y/l/n, there is no other man around… or is it too dark for me to possibly notice him?” Anthony asks, clearly completely clueless to what you’re explaining.
“You! I am referring to you Lord Bridgerton!” You decree, turning round swiftly to meet his wide eyes with your own troubled ones.
He remains silent, staring back at you, mouth agape. Anthony was used to such proclamations from random young women in town however you were no ordinary young woman. You were lady y/l/n. You were the lady he had so admired, so come to love. Since the moment the two of you reached an age where you developed feelings for the other gender, he was enamored by you. There was no other who smiled, laughed, joked or looked at him in such a way as you did and that held his affections more strongly than anything else could.
His inability to speak left you with a deep frown of your own, your lip quivering slightly as you bow your head in embarrassment.
“Very well, I see I was led astray. No need to fret, plenty of suitors anyway so no matter.” You say, your cheeks once again flushed.
He quickly recovers from his own daze at the sight of you turning away from him once again, carefully grabbing your wrist and pulling you back towards him.
“Anthony we should not even be out on our own, with no chaperone in sight… it is improper, you know this.” You say, trying to find any possible way to excuse yourself from the conversation you’d started.
“Just as improper as dropping the formalities before so much as the suggestion of courtship?” He challenges, making you go silent.
“Y/n I have never once denied an attraction to you. Do you truly believe me to be such a fool that I would not see your exquisite beauty?” He asks thoughtfully, catching your attention once again, your lips parted in complete surprise at his words. Your face is crimson without the need for the rouge on your cheeks, and you laugh out of sheer confusion.
“Honestly? Yes, I believed that perhaps your affections are captured by another young lady from the town. Possibly the young opera singer…” You suggest, laughing at your own joke.
“Sienna is… she is important to me yes but I’ve only been with her because I believed you to be promised to another, though I now see your hand is not yet taken.” He hums, smiling lightly at you.
“Lord Bridgerton… I do not have words that could respond to your advances… it seems highly inappropriate.” You say, going to turn away again, breaking the remaining hold his hand has over the cuff of your gloves.
“Y/n please drop the title. I see it as meant for those who do not truly know me however we are both very aware of the fact that you and I know each other perfectly well.” He says, gently lifting your chin to make eye contact with him once again.
“Very well, Anthony. This is highly unlike you. I’ve never seen you lose your proper language and tone before, not at public events anyway.” You state, fully aware of your close proximity to the viscount.
“On the contrary I do like to play the wildcard from time to time. And I regard you in too high a manner to pretend we are nothing less than the normal.” He says, moving in closer to you, taking your breath away.
He continues his approach, making you bite your lip with the widest of eyes, unable to speak.
A moment later you return to your senses, blinking out of your fairytale moment.
“We cannot go any further… not unless you’re prepared to propose.” You say, backing up to build distance.
He continued to stare you down, trying to convince you to return his affections with only a look.
“You should like to paint a picture.” You joke in attempts to lighten the mood.
“Y/n if that is all it takes, I shall marry you in a few months time.” He announces, pulling you into his arms and swinging you around with joy.
“What a very romantic proposal, I may just swoon.” You say sarcastically, laughing as he puts you down with his own perplexed look.
“Whatever do you mean y/n? You asked for a proposal and i obliged.” He says, making you let out a snort.
“You obliged?! As though proposing to take my hand is some sort of duty you are ‘obliged’ to do. When I said proposal I meant a truly proper one. You must ask my father for permission to propose, you must bring flowers and be in the drawing room when we announce it as official.” You explain. “I am shocked you did not think of it, you were so very insistent upon it when it came to your own sister last season.” You scoff.
“If you should truly mean what you are asking, you shall be at y/l/n house tomorrow morning to treat me as the lady I am rather than a common whore you wish to trick. Understood?” You ask before he gets the chance to object your ultimatum.
He gulps and then nods rapidly, afraid to speak in case of offending you or further entangling the web of your relationship, watching you smile back at him and walk away, back to the party and away from him.
——————————————————
The next morning…
The very next morning, all of the eligible ladies of the ton are eagerly waiting for their dukes and viscounts and gentlemen to come calling. The center of London is bustling with activity of carriages, footmen and of course their gentlemen calling on the women they seek.
You are among those not so patiently waiting. Since you’d woken, you were in the drawing room, pretending to be distracted by books and needlepoint but in reality, being completely anxious for the day to come.
After you’d left Anthony and returned indoors, the night was somewhat of a blur. Your thoughts remained on Anthony but your physical presence was there, on the floor, where another gentleman, though much older than the others who seemed to fancy you, had asked for your third dance. You agreed, not wanting to be impolite or for your mother to have reason to invoke her rath.
So, you danced with the lord Gillington, and it was all fine but you held no interest in him, nor in Lord Newton, who apparently was to stop by today as well.
When the third dance ended you faked a headache and feigned fatigue to your mother, who reluctantly agreed. There were other eyes on you and she would have preferred you have at least one more dance but you had done as she asked and that was all she could hope for.
You arrived home early but that wasn’t to say you slept well. You were restless, worrying over the possibilities for the next day. Surely Anthony would never lead you on in a way such as this for your silly little game but there was no certainty there. Still you took comfort in knowing that he was typically a man of his word.
But now, as you sat twiddling with your thumbs, you weren’t so certain. He was as he liked to put it now ‘a wildcard’ when it came to romance and you had never actually attempted such a thing in your relationship.
You ignored your nerves and smoothed down your silky day dress and took yet another deep breath, getting ready to settle back in when one of your staff enter the room. Quickly you rise to your feet.
“A gentleman is here for ms. Y/l/n.” He announces and you smile wide at your mother.
“Send him in then!” She urges, just as excitedly.
He obliges and a minute later a man enters but your face falls as you see its not who you’d hoped.
“Lord Newton.” You greet, pasting as much of a smile as you can muster on your face, taking the delicate bouquet he holds into your own hands and giving them a polite smell.
“Lady y/l/n. You look beautiful, as always.” He greets back, lightly kissing your hand. Your mother looks ecstatic but you couldn’t be less so.
You knew it best to keep your options open but it wasn’t your nature. You were interested in one man and one man alone and it was all his own fault.
“Thank you lord Newton, that’s very kind of you. Would you like to sit?” You ask, sitting back down on the chaise, patting it lightly for him.
He graciously accepts, sitting next to you.
“I have come to ask if you should like to court, lady y/l/n? I do not wish to be too forward however I am quite taken with you my lady.” He states, smiling back at you and you don’t even have to look at your mother to know she’s likely bouncing with joy.
“I-” You start but he is quick to interrupt, something you don’t take kindly to.
“You need not make haste with your decision, I’m aware you will have more suitors throughout the day. I only wish to make my intentions known.” He says, once again kissing your hand. “I shall take my leave. Lady y/l/n. Lady y/l/n.” He says, bowing before walking out the door.
“Oh dearest! That is practically your first proposal! Of many I am certain.” Your mother cheers, hugging you tightly, laughing with joy.
You nod meekly, trying to stay somewhat happy for your mothers sake.
Throughout the day, callers come and go, bearing gifts and kind words nonstop. The room is a festival of colours and chatter and the sweet fragrance of florals everywhere. And yet, no Bridgerton caller had arrived thus far.
“Perhaps Lady Whistledown shall write bright things about our home this week! You are getting plenty of attention from the best of the gentlemen.” Your mama says as the latest of the male callers take their leave.
“Yes perhaps this is true mama.” You say with another smile.
As you take a seat, another caller arrives and you stand yet again with a weak smile, tired of the anticipation of the days end drawing near.
“Lord Ambrose for you my lady.” The staff announces and you smile as you dismiss him.
“Lord Ambrose how delightful to see you.” You greet, taking a seat with him. In that moment, your youngest sister runs into the room, chased by your younger brother.
“Children!” Your mother warns, trying to toss them out of the room.
“It is no bother mama, they may stay. That is if it does not displease you Lord Ambrose?” You ask, turning to him for answer.
“Certainly not, I do love children, it is not a bother at all.” He replies, smiling more at you.
The two of you make chitchat for a while, watching the younger y/l/n children play together happily, passing time surprisingly pleasantly.
“I shall leave, I have had a wonderful afternoon with you my lady. I do hope you’ll consider perhaps courting me this season?” He asks and you feel your smile slipping at yet another sort of proposal.
“Perhaps yes, I shall need some time to consider.” You reply, watching as he accepts the excuse, kisses your hand and leaves.
Your smile falls, watching out the window as the sun falling slowly.
Your eyes dart to the ground when another carriage arrives and you’re quick to sit back down, your mama and your papa, who had just come in from his study, both giving you looks of confusion.
“Another caller I think. We shall see who it is in a moments time.” You grin, hope still heavy in your heart.
Your sister runs over to you and takes a seat next to you, playing with your skirt but you ignore it, watching the doorway intently.
“The viscount Bridgerton is here for you my lady.” He says and your grin grows all the bigger.
“Send him in!” You say with as much eager energy in your voice as your mother had early on.
And so, in walks Anthony, with a large and stunning bouquet of his own and a smile you couldn’t compare to any of the other gifts you’d received today because if you even tried, the rest would never hold a chance.
“My Lord.” You smile, bowing low to him. “I do believe I said this morning.” You tease as you rise, speaking low so your parents cannot hear.
He smiles wider at your cheeky tone. “Yes, I do apologize for the late hour, I had difficulty getting anything appropriate from the florist, so many desperate suitors looking for their own and of course I needed one that could compare to your on beauty though I realize that to be nearly impossible.” He explains and you purse your lips as though thinking whether to believe him or not.
“Lord Bridgerton.” Your mother greets him, bringing your attention to the fact that you are not alone.
“Lady y/l/n, a pleasure. And lord y/l/n, it is an honor to see you again.” Anthony greets both your parents, making your glee spread that much more.
“You as well lord Bridgerton.” Your father says, standing to shake his hand.
“I actually have some matters I’d like to discuss with you my lord. Shall we excuse ourselves?” Anthony asks and your father nods. The men take their leave to the study, your little brother chasing after them, eager to listen in. Your mother tries to stop him but he ignores her and she’s clearly too tired to try anymore.
“Might I ask dearest, what it is that prompted the Viscounts call?” She asks you, raising an eyebrow.
“I believe it was Lady Danbury’s revelations after we shared a dance last night. It would seem his mother and her ladyship have noticed something that myself and Lord Bridgerton have not. Until now that is.” You smile, keeping the true reason a secret for Anthony and yourself to hold tight.
“I see…” She hums unsurely, still going back to her needlepointing rather than investigate any longer.
You remain playing with your younger sister, waiting eagerly for the men to finish their business, wishing nothing more than to be a part of the discussion.
In your own frustration and excitement, you barely notice Anthony’s returned to the room. Instead of telling you, he is mesmerized by watching you and your sister, smiling fully at the sight of you with a child. He had seen you interact with them before of course, but with the chance to finally have you for himself, Anthony couldn’t help picturing you as a mother and he couldn’t be more pleased with the idea.
Settling down was never something that had been on his mind, especially with romance actually taking part in it. He had always pictured a loveless marriage with many kids and his duties to keep both him and his wife occupied. But never in those images did he picture you as his wife. He pictured you with a prince or someone more worthy of your love, never himself. But the idea wasn’t unpleasant to him, instead it was a great joy to picture.
“Lady y/l/n, might I have a moment?” He asks and you gasp, jumping to your feet out of surprise.
“Yes of course lord Bridgerton.” You smile, your face once again flushed, causing him to stifle a chuckle.
The two of you enter the corridor, where he takes your hand in his. Your breath hitches and your heart is pounding in your chest.
“I have done as you asked. I have made myself look a bit of a fool in your honor, I have done the thing I never once imagined myself doing, and I have fallen in love with you. Love in a marriage has always been a great virtue but I never pictured it for myself until last night. I can see us starting a family, I can see us happy together. Lady y/l/n, y/n, would you allow me to ask for your hand? Your papa has agreed so long as it is in your wishes. I’m sure your mama would agree as well. There would be no greater honor for me.” He finally asks, making you giggle with excitement, real excitement this time.
“Anthony, you are the only man who causes me true and real joy. I know you to be a good and kind man. Yes I will marry you.” You smile, giggling as he hugs you tightly, trying hard to stick to your honor.
“That is good because I did see Lord Ambrose leaving earlier and I must tell you, he is something of a cheat. Cannot be trusted.” He says jealously and you scoff, giggling again.
“I believe I am the one who has you flustered this time, by the way.” He murmurs as you walk back into the drawing room to announce the news to your family.
“I believe that both of us have that challenge covered this time my lord.” You challenge quietly just before you declare your engagement to your family, leaving him both in want of you and puzzled by you all at once, just as both of you know you’ll likely do your whole marriage.
Warnings: my bad writing | GIF not mine | English is not my first language
Summary: You are the daughter of the Marquess of Queensberry, and have been a friend of the Bridgertons since birth. After your father allowed you to pursue your studies in France, you return to London to enter society. Upon receiving the news of your return from your father, Lady Bridgerton offers to look after you during this season. You are delighted to be reunited with your friends, confident that your past feelings for Anthony are now gone. But how true that is, you are soon to find out.
You were not nervous. Not at all. You were the epitome of calmness. That is why you could not stop toying with the ribbon around your wrist, or why you were tapping your foot on the marbled floor.
You were calm. Posed, elegant. A perfect lady.
It would have been nice if you could actually believe what you were so desperately trying to tell yourself. Your dear mama, bless her soul, would have fainted if she could have seen the mess you were making of your perfectly styled dress. But you were a lady, and you were calm.
And, most importantly, you were grateful that the butler had stayed silent. If anything, he just gave you a sympathetic look when you loudly gasped as he announced your arrival at the Bridgerton House.
There was no reason to be nervous, so you inhaled as much air as humanly possible, and stepped through the open door.
The first thing you saw was a flash of light blue, and before you could blink twice, Lady Bridgerton was in front of you, smiling fondly.
“My dearest Y/N,” she said, holding both of your hands, “it brings me so much joy to see you after all of these years.”
You breathed. This part was easy; it came to you like second nature to delicately wrap your arms around the woman who had been to you nothing less than a mother. “Lady Bridgerton, it is a pleasure to finally be here again.”
“Now, dearest, you know you must call me Violet,” she reminded you with the same sweet voice she used when you were a child, “we are family, after all.”
You bowed your head.
Family. That is what the Bridgertons were to you. And speaking of, you could not help but notice the absence of all of them.
“Where is everyone?” you asked, looking around the room.
“I thought it best not to call them this morning until you arrived. I wanted it to be a surprise.”
You nodded, taking a seat next to Lady Bridgerton. Everything was so familiar in this place, although most of your childhood was spent at Aubrey Hall, and you could not help but relax. You had loved your time in France, but returning home was a feeling so warm and overwhelming that it had managed to ease all of your nervousness for the upcoming season.
“I take France has been a lovely time?”
“Most wonderful. My tutors were incredibly patient with me and my studies proceeded well. Although, I must say I have missed you all.”
The door opened with a loud bang and you saw Gregory and Hyacinth making their way inside the room, fighting over something you did not quite catch.
“Children! Where are your manners? You must be on your best behaviour in front of our guest,” Lady Bridgerton said, amusement colouring her voice.
“Y/N!” both Hyacinth and Gregory shouted, immediately running to you. They had grown up so much in the three years you had been away, you could hardly believe that they were not the two little children of your memories.
You hugged them both, telling them how much you had missed them. Their shouts must have alerted the other Bridgertons because one by one they started filling the room. Benedict was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes when he noticed you, his younger siblings wrapped around you. Colin had wanted to share notions of his travels with you, seeming completely enraptured by your tales of France. Eloise could not stop asking you about your studies, what had you been reading, what did you think about modern political issues concerning women, and utterly expressing her frustration and envy at the fact that your father had allowed you to study while she was forced to go hunt for an eligible husband. Francesca was just as polite as you remembered and she made you promise to practice with her on the pianoforte.
In the middle of your reunion with the Bridgertons, you almost missed Anthony standing frozen at the door, disbelief written all over his face upon seeing you entertaining his siblings with your stories of France. When you noticed him, you shot him an amused smile.
“What is the meaning of this?” Anthony said looking at you and then at his mother. “Is it not custom anymore to inform first the head of the household of the arrival of a new guest?”
You laughed, hearing the amusement in his voice. You got up and walked towards Anthony, deciding once again that you were calm. Nothing was happening inside of you. Absolutely nothing.
“Hush now, brother,” said Benedict.
Anthony met you halfway through the room and you lightly bowed your head. “My Lord,” you said shooting him a playful glance, “I hope my unexpected arrival is not met with your disapproval.”
“I guess forgiveness might still be granted,” he sighed tilting his head to the side feigning annoyance. “With the right price, of course,” he added.
Eloise groaned in the back, “you two are gross”.
You could not help but laugh, “and what could possibly be that the Viscount wants from me?”
Anthony smiled at you. He was done joking, you could tell how happy and pleased he was to see you. You could have pointed out the small flip your heart did inside your chest, but you ignored it. It seemed there was a lot you were going to ignore when it came to Anthony Bridgerton.
“Why, but a hug.” And before you realised it, you were between his arms, your head gently pressed to his chest. You could not help but inhale deeply, because you could ignore almost anything, but you certainly could not ignore how much you had missed him. And perhaps your heart was now pounding in your chest, perhaps your throat felt tighter and you could not quite well inhale enough air. Perhaps your stomach became an intricate knot and your skin was burning you alive. And perhaps you had been a fool, thinking that three years in France would have removed any feeling you might have possibly harboured for the Viscount, but when you took a step back nothing of what was going on inside you was showing on your face.
You were going to ignore it all. And perhaps, you were going to ignore how the Viscount’s hand had brushed ever so lightly on the bare skin of your back when you pulled away. Perhaps, you were going to ignore the sharp intake of breath he took when you had rested your head on him. You were more than certain you were going to ignore how his fingers brushed your arms before falling back to his side.
Yes, you were going to ignore it all, for if there was one thing in this world you could not allow yourself to do, it was falling back in love with Anthony Bridgerton.
And so, you stayed calm.
***
The evening of your first ball since your return to England had finally come. Lady Danbury was hosting this ball to celebrate your reunion and your father had informed you earlier that day that the Queen would be attending. You supposed it should have come to no surprise considering that both women had been close with your mother, the late Marchioness.
“Maybe we can still find a way out of this dreadful situation.”
You turned around to look at Eloise wrestling with her dress and fidgeting around her gloves. You chuckled, “I am afraid one does not say no the Queen.”
“One could fake an illness or faint on the dance floor,” she muttered making Benedict laugh.
“Must you always be so much fun at every ball, sister?”
You shook your head and left the two Bridgertons arguing to themselves. To be completely honest, you were starting to feel nervous, and you regretted drinking that lemonade earlier. It was exhausting having to join meaningless conversations with men who had clearly no interest in your studies and with women who had too much interest in your private affairs.
“Lady Y/N, the Queen summons you.”
At last, the time had come. You made your way to where the Queen and Lady Danbury were standing, your heart sinking into your stomach. When you stood in front of the two women, you bowed deeply in sign of respect.
“My Queen, it is an honour to be back in England and in your presence,” you said with all the grace and sweetness your voice could manage. “Lady, Danbury, I am most grateful for the ball. Your kindness humbles me.”
The Queen smiled at you, and your worries disappeared. You had her favour still.
“Come, child. I want to hear everything about your trip.”
***
“I could not help but notice you are not dancing.”
You smiled, no need to turn around. You could have recognised that voice in the middle of a maze, at midnight, blindfolded. The way your chest would alight upon hearing that voice, the way the sound would carry its weight right into your heart and deep inside you, making you feel heavy and light at the same time, were all signs that you had learned to recognise with time.
“I am afraid I have not found anyone worthy of my time,” you replied.
You knew your mother would have wanted you to find a love match, or at the very least a comfortable marriage, but truth be told you were not looking for either. Your father had other plans for you when it came to marriage, and as for you, you swore off love years ago.
Anthony smiled at you, standing at your side. “I take you have not missed any of this?”
You looked around the room, at all those people dressed in fancy clothes, dancing and talking, some of them hoping to secure a future for themselves. You watched them from distance, as you have always done. The dynamics of society never really concerned you. Your father had made sure that you would be provided for well before your birth. Your life was secure in a way many of these people envied. You had no need for a husband, you had never really needed to fit in. The Queen had treated you like a protege since childhood, a favour to your mother. All you ever desired was to find your freedom and your place in the world. You had found the first, but you were far away from achieving the second.
“I suppose I have not, not really. I was never much of dancer,” you replied at last.
Anthony hummed and stepped in your line of vision, extending his hand towards you. “I remember differently from when we were children. Allow me to have this dance, Lady Y/N.”
And so, once again, you were a turmoil of emotions, desperately trying to tell yourself that you were imagining everything. You nodded your head, not really trusting your voice. Taking Anthony’s hand, you both stepped in the dance floor. His hand found its place in the centre of your back while the other held yours firmly.
“You are right, in a way,” you told him while spinning around the room. The way he would catch your body back to his was making it very difficult to concentrate on your steps. Your bodies were gravitating around each other, being pulled back together like a magnet.
Anthony cocked his head to the side, a curious glint in his eyes. You continued, “you are quite right, my Lord. We danced together a great deal in our youth. However, I never really enjoyed dancing, not even as a child, unless it was with you.”
You felt his grip on your back tighten and you could swear Anthony took a sharp intake of air. His hand was so firmly pressed against you that you soon found yourself dangerously close to him. The dancing pace had quickened and you were soon out of breath, yet you knew that the reason had little to do with the dancing itself. Anthony was silent, he was looking at you in the eyes, not allowing you to look anywhere but him. On the rare occasions that his eyes would move, it would be lower, and you had to fight the urge to whimper when you found him staring at your lips.
Breathing was becoming almost impossible. You had to get away from him. And really, you only had yourself to blame for the situation you were in. Three years spent in France trying to forget the very fact that your soul was consumed to its very core from the love you had for Anthony Bridgerton had not been sufficient enough. You had wasted all of your efforts and all it took was one dance. All of your talks of freedom, of independence, all was being washed away but the same feeling that caused you to flee.
You could not take it anymore, and so when the dance finally came to an end, you swiftly bowed to him and ran away in the most contained and gracious way you could manage. You did not stop when he called your name, nor when Eloise did the same. You had to get out of there because any minute spent around Anthony was another minute your heart would spend harbouring hopes of a future together. Hopes that you could not allow yourself to have. You were the only heir your father had, the family line was going to die with you. And so, your father had allowed the freedom and the independence you had always desired. As his only heir, you were to be Marchioness of Queensberry. But you could not marry or you would lose your title.
You could either marry Anthony Bridgerton and become his Viscountess or you could become the head of your own household and be Y/N, Marchioness of Queensberry.
Perhaps France had not been a far enough place for you to run to to get rid of these feelings. Although, you doubted there was a corner in this world you could go to where your soul did not long to be with Anthony, where your heart would ever stop loving him.
***
Dear Gentle Reader,
as I am sure you are aware, Lady Y/N of Queensberry has made her return to England and was present at yesterday night’s ball. For those of you who don’t remember, three years ago the young Marchioness left the country to pursue her studies in France. The reason behind such a decision is to most obscure, but not to this author. In fact, as the only heir of the Marquess of Queensberry, Lady Y/N has been schooled on matters of the estate, on top of the duties of a household. Nothing has been confirmed, but this author wonders whether certain traditions might finally come to an endand if indeed Lady Y/N is to become the new Marchioness. And now, dearest reader, I must inform you of what I am sure has been duly noted by many members of the ton. Lady Y/N, noted friend of the esteemed Bridgertons, was seen dancing with no one less than the Viscount himself. You must agree with me that the two did make quite the couple, and this author wonders if perhaps we are in the presence of what might very well be the most heartbreaking story of the season. Rest assured, dear reader, that I shall uncover the details.
Yours, Lady Whistledown
***
“Y/N? Are you listening to me?” Eloise was waving a hand in your face while you were all enjoying the sunshine in the park. You were lost in your own thoughts and had not heard a single word she said.
“I am sorry, Eloise, what were you saying?” You asked, shaking your head to get rid of your thoughts. It had been five days since the ball and you had managed to avoid Anthony with great success. Your father had joined you in London the day after the ball so you could assist him in his work. Focusing on your duties and responsibilities made it a lot easier to avoid Anthony but when the Bridgertons had asked you to join them for an afternoon stroll in the park you could not refuse. You finally had a chance to catch up with Daphne about her life and tried your best to avoid Anthony’s gaze.
“So, is it true what Lady Whistledown has written about you? You are to be Marchioness?” Eloise asked again.
You nodded, “indeed. Although, there is still much to learn before anything really happens.”
“That is quite lovely my dear,” Lady Bridgerton said with a small smile, although you couldn’t help but notice a hint of sadness in her eyes. “I cannot help but wonder what will happen when you finally find love.”
“Whatever do you mean, mother?” Benedict asked. You knew very well what Lady Bridgerton was asking and you finally understood the sadness you spotted in her eyes. She was worried about you.
“I cannot imagine many gentlemen who would marry a woman who is in charge of her own land,” Lady Bridgerton said.
“Then they would be a fool,” came Anthony’s reply. You forced yourself to not look at him in the eyes.
You sighed, “do not worry, Lady Bridgerton. I do not think it will pose any threat.” When you were met with confused looks, you continued explaining, “the conditions of my inheritance is that I will not marry. If I have to become Marchioness that shall be on my own and not through marriage.”
Lady Bridgerton gasped, “you cannot mean that. But what about love?”
You finally turned towards Anthony. He looked like someone had just punched all the air out of him. He opened his mouth to say something and then immediately closed it. He didn’t know what to say, but then again, what does one say when the person whom you have loved your entire life just told you they are never to be married?
“What about it? She’ll have something much better than that. She’ll have her independence,” replied Eloise.
“Yeah, I suppose I will,” you said sadly.
***
You were enjoying some lemonade, looking at all the people dancing. Throughout the years, when the other ladies where being taught how to dance gracefully and you were learning how to manage your estate, you had grown fond of being a spectator. You had learned how to recognise the look of true joy, to spot if a gentleman was interested in a young lady and if she had any feelings towards him. You had known from the very start that love would have no part in your life, so you learned how to live love through people.
Your father had been so scarred by the death of you beloved mama that he vowed you would never have to go through the same pain. And so, he had given you something many ladies wished for but could never have: your freedom. In return, you had given up love. You had set to France hoping to get rid of your feelings for the Viscount, wishing that distance could take them all away, so that you could become the Marchioness you were always meant to be. But now you knew how foolish you had been to even think that. Your feelings had resurfaced the moment your eyes met Anthony’s. They bursted into your heart and set it alight consuming you to your very core. And all was left behind was heartbreak and ashes.
“Is it true, then?”
You didn’t turn around, you already knew who it was. “Is what true, my Lord?”
“You are to be Marchioness?” Anthony asked you. This time you looked at him. His jaw was set, his posture rigid. Why did he look like he was the one in pain? And why did that make you feel hopeful?
“I am indeed, my Lord,” you answered him. You didn’t really know what he wanted you to say that he didn’t already know.
He nodded, “very well.” Then, he moved in front of you, just like he always used to do when he wanted to shield you from everyone else, the very same action that had always made you feel you were his and his alone. “May I have a last dance, Lady Y/N?”
You inhaled sharply. “My Lord?” You asked confused. Last dance? You had no idea what he meant by that. But Anthony offered you no explanation, he simply took your hand in the most delicate and loving way. Your heart melted, you did not care that it was probably inappropriate to take hold of a lady’s hand, all you cared about was the soft brush of his thumb against your skin. Everything inside you was burning. The world was empty but from him and you, and you were burning.
You started dancing. It was slow, it was intimate, it was painful. Every time he had to let you go, you could see the pain in his eyes. And every time you came back in his arms, he pulled you closer, like he never wanted to let you go. You felt Anthony’s hands gripping your waist, leaving a mark behind. You felt the heat through the fabric of your dress and you had never wished for the contact of his skin like you were now. Breathing was becoming a hard task.
“I guess this is why you never concerned yourself to dance with anyone else but me.” You were not expecting him to speak, nor to sound so broken.
You looked at him in the eyes, not even feeling offended at his slight accusation. “I dance only with you because you are the only one I want to dance with.”
He spun you around so that your back was firmly pressed to his chest. Then he lowered his head, and his lips brushed your ear ever so softly when he whispered “and why is that?”
Before you could turn around, the dance was over and Anthony was making his way out of the room. You were left there, breathing heavily, with your stomach scrunched in pain, empty and broken. Your father would be sad knowing that you had felt the pain of heartbreak long before you even knew what love was and that the very thing he had tried to shield you from was the thing that was already destroying you. But what your father could never figure out was that that pain, that crushing feeling of not being able to be with the person you loved, it was all worth it. Love was worth the pain, the burning. Anthony was worth every tear, every heartbreak because he was the person that had always cheered you up, the person you would go to whenever you were sad, the person who loved you dearly, of that you were now sure, and the person you had loved since you were old enough to know what love was.
He was worth the pain, he was worth more than your title. And so, you ran after him.
***
You found him on the terrace, his head lowered down, his shoulders visibly tense. He looked in pain and the sight broke your heart a little.
“Why did you say a last dance?” You announced yourself by asking him the question that had been plaguing you.
Anthony chuckled but there was no mirth in it. He shook his head, looking at the starry sky. “I cannot dance with you again.”
You took a step closer to him, “and why is that?”
Anthony rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed, turning around to face you. “Because it is too much of a torment. One that I cannot endure anymore.”
“I had no idea dancing with me would cause you so much torment, my Lord,” you said through a broken voice and tears that threaten to run down your face. “Rest assured, it is not my intention to hurt you any longer. You shall be free from your torment.”
“What are you implying?” His voice hardened, but whether it was from hurt or anger, you did not know. Anthony was now in front of you, his eyes frantically looking for yours.
You gulped, “I shall return to my estate in Scotland. I have no business in London seeing as I am in no need of a husband. You will never have to dance with me again.”
“You cannot do this.” Anthony grabbed your arm and you could no longer hold your tears. “You cannot leave again.”
You looked at his pleading eyes, at the fear that lied behind them, it was for you cause of immense pain. Perhaps this was the right thing to do. You came here to tell Anthony that you loved him, that your title meant nothing, and now you were in the middle of doing the opposite. It was for the best, you told yourself through the sobs. You could not disappoint your father. It did not matter that you would never know what it was like to be utterly and completely loved. It could not matter.
“Please,” Anthony whispered, “do not leave me again. These past three years have been so difficult, all I could think about was seeing you back here. Back with me.”
You shook your head, anger rising. “I do not understand. I thought I caused you torment?!”
Anthony squeezed your arm and rested his head on your shoulder, inhaling deeply. You felt his nose brush your neck and your heart skipped several beats. “It is the love I have for you that torments me so.”
“Anthony, I-“
“Y/N,” he spoke your name softly, hesitantly, almost scared. He said it so quietly and you were immediately drunk on the way it had sounded from his lips. “Being so close to you and not being able to kiss you,” his other hand now grabbed your waist, leaving hot marks on your skin, “to hug you, to make you mine in all the ways a man can make a woman his,” he continued, placing his lips to your ear and breathing in your scent, “it torments me. It is crushing my very soul.”
You were breathing hard, almost panting. Your head was hurting, you could not think. Everything around you was a blur and all that existed was the man who was gripping your waist as if you were the only anchor in the ocean that could save him. All you could feel was Anthony’s lips brushing against your skin, so close that you could feel little sparkles and yet so far from where you really wanted them. Your world was on fire, and Anthony had been the one to set it aflame.
“Anthony, please-”
“But I am a gentleman, and I cannot,” he said tearing himself away from you, “I will not take away your freedom, your title.”
You shook your head with vigour and this time it was you who grabbed his arm. “Don’t,” you whispered, “don’t take away my freedom by choosing for me.”
Anthony was refusing to meet your eyes so you tugged on his jacket, “I love you, Anthony Bridgerton. And I have done so since the very first time you asked me to dance with you.”
You were now crying. Silent sobs were shaking your body and your head was pounding so hard that you could hardly stand up. Anthony finally met your eyes and brushed away your tears. You smiled, wishing that you could show him how much he had always meant to you. But here you were, crying on the terrace and no idea on how to fix the situation you were in. You loved the Viscount, but did the Viscount love you?
“I do,” Anthony said, reading the silent question in your eyes. “I am tormented by my feelings for you, by the fear that I will be taking away from you much more than what I will be able to give you in return. But I love you, every day more than each passing one. With all of my heart, my soul is yours.”
And then he kissed you. Slowly, like you expected him to do. Because Anthony had always been careful with you, always making sure you were comfortable and happy with him. He had a way of touching you, almost as if he was touching a diamond, as if he wanted to worship you, cherish you. You kissed him back through your salty lips, anchoring yourself to him. His lips were soft and warm and you never wanted him to stop. You needed him to never stop.
You let out a small sigh, almost a moan, and it was all it took for Anthony to groan into your mouth and completely devour your very essence. He was everywhere, in your hair, on your waist, touching your back, caressing your face, pushing you closer and closer to him. He was consuming you, and you had no objection to it.
“Anthony,” you sighed while trying to breathe in as much air as you could. He was smiling at you, so bright and beautiful, and you could swear that in that moment there was no title, no duties to honour, just the love that you two shared.
You laughed, finally happy. “I choose you, Anthony Bridgerton.”
“What about your position?” He asked.
“I will deal with my Father when the time is due. For now,” you said resting your head on his shoulder, completely at peace, “for now, I choose you.”
Anthony kissed the top of your head and embraced you. The two of you stayed like this for a very long time, long enough for Benedict to find you, still embraced, still in love with each other, still so happy. You would both worry about the future tomorrow. Because you were determined to keep your position as Marchioness and marry the man you loved. You had made your choice and the world was going to respect it, one way or the other.
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.
Ok so I’ve set up my new laptop and downloaded all my old work to try and finish and I found a half finished project I had hoped to complete by new years. I think its a continuation of a colin fic I did ages ago with Y/N as a maid in the house. Its not New Years anymore but I like the bullet points Ive made so does anyone really care if I end up posting a new years fic in February ?!
IV. He sought after her thoughts on nearly every topic
Pairing: Colin x Penelope Rating:G
Series Summary: What if Colin loved Penelope first
a/n: this is the first scene i wrote of the series. one lil’ colin bridgerton calling on one penelope featherington for the first time, out of the blue.
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They found one another throughout the summer, both on purpose and by chance. Colin even offered to accompany her and Eloise on walks, (much to his sister’s dismay), just to hear Penelope’s thoughts on whatever possessed them that day. If it was the weather, or what she was reading, or what soapbox Eloise was forcing her to go along with. He wanted to know her favorite snacks and meals; if she preferred tea or lemonade and why. What she would like to be doing instead of being here in London, what she had been doing summers of late. He would rather hover around them for a moment of pleasant conversation than galivant around Mayfair with his friends.
Three weeks before the season’s end, Colin called on Penelope - a book in hand.
He hadn’t told anyone where he was going, leaving Number 5 and sauntering down Bruton Street until he reached the Featherington House on Mount Street. It was ten in the morning and Colin was fairly certain most distinguished families would have long sat for breakfast by now, yet early enough that Penelope wouldn’t have departed for the day.
“May I help you?” the Featherington footman greeted.
“I am Colin Bridgerton. Here to speak with Miss Penelope Featherington.”
“Colin?” he heard her voice in a doorway just beyond the foyer, head peeking around their footman.
Colin entered on his own accord, meeting her in the entrance of the drawing room.
“I thought you might like this,” he presented the leatherbound book. “I read six pages and knew I had to bring you a copy.”
“Oh-” he watched her eyes rove the cover. She looked up at him with the sweetest of smiles. “That’s lovely, Col-” her mother pointedly cleared her throat from her seat not too far away ”Mr. Bridgerton. Thank you.”
“Go on.”
“I don’t want to be rude,” she nearly whispers.
“You won’t. I insist. Read the first page at least.”
She does. He sees her fingers curl to turn the page.
“And?”
Penelope looked him right in the eye, as best as her short stature would allow but still as striking. “I don’t want to put it down.”
“I knew it,” he said smugly. The smile tugging at the corners of his mouth was anything but smug. Delighted, satisfied and most certainly relieved.
Penelope cradled the book to her chest. “Thank you. Truly.”
Something changed at that moment.
Colin took half a step towards her in the already waning space between them and placed a delicate hand at her bare elbow.
“I must know your thoughts. You’ll tell me once you finish the chapter?”
“Yes, of course.”
Penelope’s mother sat with calculating eyes, hot gaze never moving from the third son of a very well-to-do family.
With a smile Colin took his leave, determined to finish the chapter that afternoon.
And that’s how it started. Notes passed via lower valet’s across the street when they weren’t bound to meet or too impatient to wait for social calls. It took them four days to finish that first novel, and immediately they moved on to the next.
Again and again they went through as many novels as time would allow, his choice then hers. The most splendid blend of respect and widening perspectives.
Even when Colin was at Eton he and Penelope would keep their correspondence. He appreciated her more, knowing that she was always reading another book in tandem because his studies had slowed him down.
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a/n:thanks for reading. i’ve decided where i want this to end and that means there’s only two short parts left. hopefully you don’t mind
