Chapter Text
He heard about the acreage in Somerset at White’s one night.
It was the second brother of an old Oxford acquaintance who mentioned it over a game of billiards. Anthony had been barely present beforehand — ruminating over the argument with his father earlier that morning.
Anthony loved his father, Edmund. He always made sure to set time aside from his duties to be with his children. He was a doting husband. Known for being half of a famous love match, a rarity in the ton. And though Anthony and his father were once thick as thieves, a burgeoning strain developed the last few years.
It was after he graduated from Oxford. Anthony was keen to learn more about the viscountcy, and Edmund was pleased to show him the ropes. The tension was inevitable, Anthony supposed. It was simply the way with heirs and their fathers. Anthony was no longer the eight year-old boy sitting in his father’s study, playing future Viscount. His lessons with his father were no longer abstract. Anthony knew, with a somber clarity, that he was waiting for his father to die in order to fulfill his greatness.
How does one settle that feeling?
Apparently, Anthony settled it by arguing with his father over ledgers or after meetings with their solicitor. He spent his nights drinking at White’s or seeking comfort in brothels. He also spent time on his own investments, accruing a wealth all his own creating more and more distance from Edmund.
So when he heard there was a small acreage of land in Somerset up for sale, only a few tenants to manage for a fairly low selling point, Anthony nearly leapt at the opportunity. Finally, he could practice his management skills. Finally, he did not need to run every minute detail with his father. Finally, he had a space that could be his own.
Anthony signed the paperwork and closed the deal by the end of the week.
Roshan Sharma was admired for many of his traits. His wisdom and generosity. His progressive ideas and advocacy of others. His wife, Mary, adored his biting wit and his thoughtfulness. His youngest, Edwina, rather enjoyed his optimism. And Kate, the one who had been with him the longest, adored almost everything about her father. Frankly, they were too similar in character for her to say otherwise.
However, the one trait that all the women in his family disliked the most was how he broached news — with nonchalance and a genuine unperturbed countenance.
“Mary, darling, the potatoes are delicious.”
“I will make sure Sarika hears your compliments. She was uncertain about the new recipe, but naturally I told her she had nothing to fret over.”
“Which reminds me,” Roshan took another large bite of his dinner then said, “We should discuss the menu for the dinner to take place eight days from now. Sarika will want more time to prepare as it will be a little more formal.”
“What dinner, darling?” Mary asked.
“The one with for the new landowner, Mr. Bridgerton. He will be arriving that morning and I would like him to feel welcome. I wrote to him and invited him over for dinner on the day he will arrive.”
The silverware around him clattered onto the women’s plates while Roshan continued.
“Naturally, I plan on meeting him at Ambleside — I have already alerted the staff and they are confident the manor will be ready in time — and I will show him the land and introduce him to some of the tenants. I think he may like tea before supper, but I do not want to rush the young man —”
“Appa!” Kate interrupted, Edwina and Mary still in shock. “Do you mean to say that someone has bought the land?”
His large eyebrows shot up and he paused his eating. “Indeed. I heard from the solicitor this morning. I immediately replied and sent a separate correspondence to the buyer. Mr. Hodges is certain that the lad and I will get along.”
Kate shook her head and turned in her seat to fully face her father and tapped the top of his hand twice. “Appa.”
The gesture was their signal for one another, as they were both fairly impatient, always rushing through their words, eager to get to the next thing. Two taps to signal an inhale and exhale. Calm yourself, slow down.
“Ah,” Roshan put down his cutlery and had the decency to look chagrined. “Apologies. I have jumped too far and you are all lost. Shall I start over?”
“We beg of you,” Mary replied, with an affectionate grin.
He reached over and kissed his wife’s knuckles quickly. “Yes, alright — Let me think.”
Leaning back in his chair, Roshan wiped the crumbs off his mustache and ran hand through his thick, graying hair. He furrowed his brows, and they could practically follow his train of thought, the way he flitted through his day until his mind landed back to the morning.
He sighed a little and folded his hands on his abdomen. “I received the letter from Mr. Hodges. He told me of the buyer —”
“Mr. Bridgerton,” Edwina replied and he nodded.
“Yes, Mr. Bridgerton.”
Mary frowned. “That name — Bridgerton…I remember a Lady Violet Bridgerton. Surely they are related?”
“I am not sure,” Roshan said, “The letter did not mention any relatives. Though Mr. Hodges did say that the gentleman came from an illustrious family whose estate sits in Kent.”
“Ah,” Mary smiled, “Then it must be the family I have in mind!”
“And what do you know of the Bridgertons, Mama?” Kate asked eagerly, worry already growing in her chest.
“Illustrious, indeed,” Mary said, her lips pursed in thought, “Though very unlike the other members of the ton. The Viscount and Viscountess are famously a love match. They married when they were very young as they knew one another from childhood. When I left Mayfair they were still newlyweds, though I do vaguely recall that she was expecting their first.”
“A love match! Like you and Appa!” Edwina smiled widely, her large eyes almost glistening at the thought. “It must be a sign!”
“Well,” Mary conceded, “If the eldest son is anything like his parents, he should at least be a kind and thoughtful man. The Bridgertons are known for tenderheartedness, especially toward their tenants.”
Roshan took a sip of his wine and nodded. “According to my letter, Mr. Bridgerton bought this land with his father in mind. He wishes to hone his skills as a future Viscount.”
“Oh, I see,” Kate replied with an arched brow, “So we are simply his playthings until he inherits his title. How wonderful.”
Mary tutted, though she was clearly stifling a laugh. “Kate, dearest, we must at least try to be nice to the man.”
“Maybe he will be gracious,” Edwina chimed in, “If what Mama has said is true, then he must come from a kind family.”
Kate kept her eyes on her plate, angrily cutting through a piece of potato. She muttered to herself, “Maybe. Or maybe he will be an arrogant yet ignorant cad.”
Edwina snorted and the sisters shared a secret little smile.
At that Roshan smirked, the end of his mustache twisting up with his lip. He raised his eyebrows and tapped her arm twice. “You will meet him soon, my dear.”
Kate let her shoulders drop and tried to take a calming breath.
So she waited.
Over the next week, she held her tongue lest the barrage of questions circling her mind went loose. She refrained from peering over her father’s shoulder every time he received a letter from London.
Of course Kate understood why her father decided to put advertisements for the land. It was too much work for him to do, even with Kate’s help. Neither of them were trained to manage land in this way. Even before they took over, Uncle had managed it all through an organized chaos of which only made sense to him.
Uncle Eddie was the exact opposite of Mary’s father in every way. He was gentle and scatterbrained. His cravat was always crooked and his mannerisms loud in every sense of the word. And when he heard of Mary’s marriage and his brother’s swift rebuke, Eddie sent an urgent letter to let Mary know she was welcome in Somerset. He took in their family, newly returned from Gretna Green, with no hesitation.
He passed away over a year ago, and still they missed his boisterous presence.
Kate and Appa were doing well with the land management, but it was not sustainable. Not with Roshan’s age and his worsening knee. She tried her hardest to be enough, but it was not to be.
And if she could not do it for Appa, Kate desperately needed to know that this new owner would be competent. Knowledgeable. A support for her father where she fell short.
“Didi, how are you not yet dressed?”
Without turning around from the array of dresses on her bed, Kate replied, “Well, my choice of dress today is very important, Bon.”
“How so?” Edwina said, sitting on her sister’s bed. “You have never cared for your appearance, especially in relation to a man.”
“Well, Mama has requested I try to at least appear pleasant today. Therefore, the dress I choose must have magic woven into the fabric for I am feeling so unpleasant I can scarcely think straight.”
Edwina sighed. “Wear the blue with the embroidered jasmine. I will do your hair in a loose style to make you appear soft.”
“Soft,” Kate muttered, “A word never used in relation to me.” She turned around and squeezed Edwina’s hand affectionately. “You are all the softness this family needs, Bon.”
“And you are the strength,” Edwina answered with a kind smile then proceeded to hurry Kate along to ensure their punctuality.
As it was not yet certain whether Mr. Bridgerton would arrive for tea, Mary insisted they get ready post haste. Dinner was to be informal, of course, as their cottage was humble. However, Mr. Bridgerton was of a different class. Logically, Kate knew he was of a similar class to Uncle, but it was not the same for he was first and foremost their slightly odd relative. The title and his family in London had meant nothing to him.
Who knew what Mr. Bridgerton might do? He was not the second son like Uncle. Mr. Bridgerton was to be a Viscount. Titles and rank could be of the utmost importance to him. He may very well kick Kate and her father out, if he was a particularly malicious man.
Kate did not know many men of society, but she knew the Sharma status was not one typically admired.
A new man of the gentry moving to Somerset. A man who was likely very, very different from Uncle. What if he decided to change everything? What if all of her work was for naught?
“Kate! You are not listening to a single word I am saying.”
She blinked and startled, jolting herself out of her spiral of self-pity. Edwina frowned at her sister and fixed her with a knowing look in the mirror. Kate sighed and pressed a finger against the spot between her brows.
“I am sorry, Bon. You know I've been quite anxious.”
Edwina knelt down, hugging her older sister from behind. She rested her chin on Kate’s shoulder. “I know, but…This is good news. I understand you like to take care of all of us, but it is not your burden. Perhaps with this new owner, we can debut in London together next season. Appa will have help managing and you will be free to find a husband! Think of how much fun we would have together!”
Kate shook her head. “You know I have no aspirations for marriage.”
“You state you have no aspirations when in truth you simply do not believe you will find a man who meets your standards,” Edwina corrected, causing Kate to chuckle.
“Perhaps.”
“Yet you fail to recognize that you cannot find a suitable man if you do not even attempt to look for him!”
“The men I have met thus far have been poor examples of potential suitors.”
“Which is why,” Edwina teased, forcing Kate to turn around in her seat. “You must leave Somerset to find your true love!”
“Bon —” Kate sighed, yet smiling fondly.
“Come!” Edwina squeezed her hands with a grin. “Let us take our minds off this Mr. Bridgerton. How about we go downstairs and practice the waltz again, hm? You always have fun bossing me around.”
“I do not!” Kate protested, though in her heart she knew her sister was right. Perhaps dancing with her sister will lighten her heart.
In all his eagerness to prove himself, Anthony forgot to think through the details of his newest venture — an oversight which his father quickly pointed out as Anthony left that morning.
“Son, you will make sure to send word when you arrive, yes?”
“Yes, Father,” Anthony replied, biting back a sigh.
Edmund continued, choosing to ignore his son’s annoyance, “And do not hesitate if you have any questions. Taking over another man’s ledgers can be a daunting task. It took me ages to fully understand your grandfather’s shorthand.”
Oh. Yes. Another man’s thoughts and writings could be a bear to sort out.
When Anthony didn’t respond, Edmund pursed his lips. “Did the sellers give any hint as to the state of the ledgers?”
“Yes, of course,” Anthony lied. He smiled tightly as his mind started to think of all that awaited him at the end of his journey.
Of course Anthony had been preparing for this new venture. He’d compiled a list of all the agricultural ideas he could implement. He thought of how he’d like to organize his correspondence and ledgers and schedule. It was the details he’d overlooked.
“What about the community?” Edmund asked, unconvinced that all would be fine.
“What of it?”
“That will be one of your first tasks, gaining the trust of the tenants.”
“Really? I had no idea there would be tenants to meet,” Anthony said, glibly and Edmund gave him a warning look.
Anthony gave him a slightly apologetic look and walked back toward the carriage. He heard his father following behind him.
“Your mother was a great help with that aspect when I first took over, but of course you are not yet married —”
“All will be fine, Father.” Anthony didn’t need to hear another sermon on marriage and true love. He could gain their trust without a wife.
Edmund sighed, “Well, speaking of your mother — While I am fully aware of how busy you will soon be with meetings and getting the house set up to your liking, please make sure you write to your mother. She does not wish to make it plain, but she will be thinking of you often.”
At that point, Anthony’s mind had started a swift trot and was making its way to a run and he certainly didn’t need to be weighed down by familial guilt as well.
So, he had simply nodded, bid his father goodbye, and folded himself into the carriage.
And by the time he stepped in front of his new estate, Anthony had the beginnings of an intense headache.
It made meeting Mr. Roshan Sharma a very welcome reprieve.
Mr. Sharma immediately suggested a ride around the estate, which was precisely what Anthony needed to clear his head. They rode briskly through the hills and wooded areas near Mr. Sharma’s favorite spots all whilst talking about the strengths and weaknesses of the acreage.
It was unusual talking to a man of business without the shadow of his father in every corner of the conversation. It was a little nerve-wracking, to be sure. However, it was most freeing. Mr. Sharma spoke to him as an equal and took his questions and ideas with genuine interest.
His father listened to Anthony’s ideas as well, but there was always that tension to fight against. Edmund treated every such interaction so carefully, so thoughtfully, and with the worry that Anthony would suggest something too bold or brash. Here, the business truly felt like business, rather than an indictment on his person.
While they were at a stream, giving their horses a moment to drink, Mr. Sharma sighed deeply and looked at him with his hands on his hips.
“Now, Mr. Bridgerton,” Mr. Sharma said with a serious tone, “I need you to be very honest with me.”
“Yes, of course,” Anthony replied quickly, twisting his riding gloves in his hands. He did not want Mr. Sharma to view him as foolhardy. He wanted to be seen as a partner. Anthony straightened his posture. “You have been of great help today and I — well I value your honesty, as well. I do not take your efforts lightly. They truly are appreciated, sir.”
Mr. Sharma quickly studied him. He seemed to soften before he clapped a hand on Anthony’s shoulder. “So we agree that we shall be honest with one another.”
“Yes, sir. Absolutely.”
Mr. Sharma gave him a hesitant look then let out a small sigh.
“My wife has prepared tea for you at our home and though I would do anything for my wife, I know you must be rather tired from your journey. I will gladly send the message that you need some time to rest before dinner. Please do not concern yourself about politeness. My family does not care for false niceties.”
He looked at Mr. Sharma’s kind eyes then let out a sharp laugh, his posture relaxing.
“You only meant to discuss tea?” Anthony asked, feeling slightly embarrassed.
Roshan nodded his head before chuckling along with him. “Though I must say I appreciate your earnest response. It is a relief that you take this role as seriously as I do. This estate means quite a lot to my family.”
Anthony felt a bit of pride at the praise. He cleared his throat. “Tea sounds splendid.”
“Lovely,” Mr. Sharma smiled widely and made his way back to his horse. “I can tell you a bit about my girls on the way.”
The Sharma residence was close to Ambleside Park, no more than a mile or two.
“Uncle wanted us to be close,” Mr. Sharma explained. “He was rather protective of my wife after the difficulties of our betrothal.”
Anthony looked toward Mr. Sharma, uncertain of whether he should ask for clarification or feign understanding. Fortunately, the man continued.
“Her parents disapproved of my status. They are particular-minded people. It is why Uncle was alone here. Away from his familial seat. A rather eccentric man, Eddie was — We were so grateful for his hospitality. He was a good man. Kate and I would have been forced to move back to India if not for him.”
“Kate?” Anthony asked. “Your wife?”
“No, no, apologies,” Mr. Sharma chuckled. “My family always tells me I move too quickly in a story. Kate is my eldest daughter. She and I are originally from India. We were in London due to my secretarial work with a maharaja when city I met my wife — Mrs. Mary Sharma, née Sheffield.”
The story of a Mary Sheffield crawled back to the forefront of his mind, a story of the season’s Diamond running off with a common worker. The Sheffields were something of an old tale, mentioned in passing, people Anthony had never met.
They crested over a hill and Anthony saw their large cottage. It was covered in a beautiful array of flowers with a well-loved garden running beside it. He knew his sisters would adore it. He easily imagined Frannie and Hyacinth running around the flower beds to make crowns with the prettiest blooms.
As they neared the front, a stablehand took their horses while Mr. Sharma led Anthony inside toward the drawing room. They quickly heard the sound of clapping and laughter causing Mr. Sharma to slow his steps. He put a finger to his lips, and peeked his head around the open doors. He grinned and then nodded his head, permitting Anthony to join him.
Anthony followed suit and felt all the breath leave his chest.
Oh, she was beautiful. She spun around the room in a lovely shade of blue. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Tall and lithe with sharp features. Her smile was wide as she laughed and danced around the room. Curls had fallen out of their place in her hairdo, only adding to her beauty.
Then the young woman’s gaze finally fell upon him, and she stopped abruptly. Her eyes widened, solely on him, igniting Anthony’s entire being.
Kate did not trust Mr. Bridgerton.
As soon as she turned and met his eye, she was immediately disarmed. He was much younger than she thought, likely no more than a few years older than herself. He was tall, though she supposed that wasn’t a strike against his person. Merely an observation.
All that to say, his height and youthfulness were his first disarming traits. Then, she watched as he bowed his head to her mother, as he was served tea. She noticed the tilt of his grin and the curl of his hair.
Mr. Bridgerton was well-mannered and very handsome. More disarming facts.
Kate cleared her throat and took a sip of her chai to steady herself.
“You know, I wonder if you would like to see some maps of the estate?” Appa asked, as Mary poured him some chai. “I believe they are in my study somewhere.”
Mr. Bridgerton nodded quickly. “I would like that very much.”
A prickle went down Kate’s back, dreading the attention she was bound to invite. “Appa, the maps are in the dining room. We were looking at them this morning after we broke our fast, remember?”
Her father’s eyes lit in recognition. “Ah! Of course, you are right dearest.” He chuckled and turned to Mr. Bridgerton. “You will find that I often forget where I place things. Kate is the main reason the estate is still managing at all.”
Mr. Bridgerton turned to her quickly. He kept looking at her, in fact — she had felt his eyes repeatedly dart toward her over the course of only five minutes. Why was he looking at her so often? It made her entire body thrum. It made her feel on the precipice of an unknown.
“Is that so, Miss Sharma?” Mr. Bridgerton asked with a look of interest.
“My father is entirely too humble, sir. We have worked in equal measures since our uncle’s passing.”
“My mind is good with the books,” Appa added, “But Kate is better-suited for daily troubles. She is a sharp thinker and has a knack for finding the best solution.”
“Do you all help with managing the estate, then?” Mr. Bridgerton asked, turning to Mama and Edwina. “My mother helps with some tenant matters, but I cannot imagine my other siblings being as involved.”
“Not quite,” Edwina quickly answered, “Mama and I help with preparing baskets of foodstuffs or parcels of clothes should a family need support. However, Kate is most involved. She helps Appa with the ledgers and the correspondence. And she does most of the tenant visits and the land inspections as well!”
“Edwina…” Kate warned, trying to keep a pleasant smile on her face.
“Well if you will not boast about your accomplishments, someone must,” Edwina answered, with a shrug.
“I must say,” Mr. Bridgerton said, looking at her curiously, “It is rather unusual to have a young lady be so involved in matters of the estate.”
Kate immediately stiffened. “I am aware that it is uncommon amongst the peerage, but I am not the idle sort.”
“No, decidedly not,” Appa chuckled, “You have always been that way. And on that note, I was hoping you’d join us tomorrow, Kate. As Edwina said, you do most of the tenant visits. You do not mind, do you, Mr. Bridgerton?”
“Of course not. We can use my carriage if necessary.”
“Not necessary at all,” Kate answered, “The carriage will only hinder our schedule. I much prefer riding. It is faster and a more enjoyable experience. ”
Mr. Bridgerton pursed his lips. “I am keen to see as much of the land as possible tomorrow.”
“Naturally.” She sensed his discomfort, and readied her defenses.
“While I am eager to hear your advice,” Mr. Bridgerton said slowly, “Side-saddle typically leads to slower journeys. The carriage might make the task at hand more efficient.”
“I ride astride.”
“You ride astride?” At that, the young man’s eyes went wide and a chuckle nearly left his lips. “Well, then.”
“Is that a problem, my lord?” Kate’s eyes narrowed and Mary cleared her throat.
“I did not say it was, Miss Sharma.”
Quietly, but loud enough for the room to hear, Kate muttered, “Your reaction seemed to suggest otherwise.”
“Kathani,” Appa warned. He raised his eyebrows and tapped the arm of his chair twice. She lowered her defenses and took another sip of her chai. When she looked at Mr. Bridgerton, the gentleman showed no offense. In fact, he looked at her with obvious amusement which only further aggravated her annoyance.
Still, Kate managed to hold her tongue during the rest of tea despite the many glances she felt from Mr. Bridgerton’s seat. And while she readied herself for dinner, she swore to be perfectly proper. She would not let him make her feel unsettled.
Unfortunately, Edwina was entirely too observant and too precocious to keep her noticings to herself. She stormed into Kate’s room as she was putting on her jewelry and Kate sighed deeply.
“You do realize we have separate rooms for a reason, Edwina.”
“Because you snore, I know.”
Kate swatted a hand at Edwina, who moved away quickly. She leaned against Kate’s vanity table and clasped her hands together.
“I thought tea went very well this afternoon.”
“It certainly could’ve gone worse.”
“And Mr. Bridgerton is quite handsome, is he not?”
“I am not sure that is appropriate to comment on, Bon.”
“Oh please,” Edwina replied quickly. “It is a simple fact. He is classically handsome. And goodness, did he look fine in his suit.” Kate sucked in her cheek and kept her eyes on the hair pieces in front of her. Edwina gleefully continued, sensing her sister’s rare discomfort.
“And I must say, Didi — He could not take his eyes off you.”
“So you noticed, as well?!” Kate said. She scoffed and suddenly her thoughts fell quickly from her lips, “Why did he insist on looking at me so much? It was bizarre, was it not?”
Edwina laughed only to stop when she saw genuine confusion from her sister. “You cannot be serious.”
“And his disbelief that I would help with the estate and ride astride,” Kate continued. She stood from her seat and began pacing the length of her room. “Infuriating! He must think that young ladies must sit at home and embroider. Well, he is in for a rude awakening when we venture out tomorrow. I will not sit and be silent. I refuse to be a simpering young lady, swooning over whatever ideas he has in store for this land. I do not care that he is the heir to a viscountcy. I am an equal and demand such respect!”
Edwina’s nose was fully furrowed as she looked at her older sister. “What the devil are you talking about? Are you delusional? He is clearly interested in you!”
“He is interested in mocking me.”
“He is interested in you, Kate. He nearly swooned when you said you prefer to ride astride. My goodness I thought we would need to bring out the smelling salts!”
“Bon,” Kate sighed. That could not be it. Edwina was too naive to see the truth. The thought of him showing a romantic interest…She shook her head and ignored how the notion brought panic to her chest. “You are entirely too romantic for your own good.”
“And you, too obstinate.”
For the rest of the evening, Edwina shot her knowing looks from the seat next to her. Kate refused to entertain her sister’s fanciful ideas, so she responded only when spoken to and made sure to keep her answers curt. And if their parents noticed the girls kicking one another under the table, they were too polite to admonish them in front of their guest.
As they said their farewells and solidified their plans for the next day, Kate finally released a small breath of relief. He was leaving and she need not worry about his presence in an enclosed space. This was her home, her family’s land. She would gain the upperhand soon enough.
“Miss Sharma.”
Kate met Mr. Bridgerton’s gaze, all of them standing in the foyer to bid one another goodnight. Her family made their way back to the drawing room as she paused waiting for Mr. Bridgerton to continue. He smiled crookedly and she prayed she did not visibly blush.
“I very much look forward to working with you tomorrow.”
“I am glad to help.”
“I hope you will not mind if we keep the pace rather quick.”
“Why should I?”
“Only that it may be faster than you are used to, but I have no problem slowing down to suit your comfort.”
“Do not concern yourself, Mr. Bridgerton. I enjoy a fast ride.”
At that his face froze and his eyes widened ever so slightly. Kate furrowed her brow, confused. Did she say something amiss?
Mr. Bridgerton cleared his throat and bowed his head. “Until tomorrow, then.”
She watched him as he nearly ran out the door as he fixed his hat tightly on his head.
Until tomorrow, then.
“Roshan,” Mary whispered. She heard her husband turn his head to look toward her, their room just dark enough Mary could scarcely make out the details of his face.
“Hm?” He was exhausted, and Mary knew he was bound to fall asleep momentarily.
“I believe Mr. Bridgerton is a bit smitten with our Kate.”
He let out a deep, long sigh. She watched him press a hand over his eyes.
“Do not wish such things on this household, Mary.”
“Tell me you disagree.”
Roshan remained quiet, though Mary knew he was still awake.
She prodded, “You do like the boy, don’t you? He seems like an honest man.”
He hummed. “I have developed a bit of a soft spot for him already.” Another long sigh. “Baap re.”
“Mr. Bridgerton!”
He felt his back stiffen and he tried to calm himself before turning to meet her gaze. Miss Sharma looked at him with fury, a basket of flowers weighing down her arms. They stood outside the piece of unused land by the Mondrichs’ home.
“You brought me flowers. Is this your white flag?”
Her frown deepened, and Anthony felt his lips twitch upward.
Miss Sharma replied, tersely, “No. Quite the opposite, actually.”
“Ah. A shame. I quite like flowers around the house. Reminds me of home. Those foxgloves you have are especially beautiful. They complement your dress. ”
He smiled brightly, and Miss Sharma’s scowl deepened significantly. A voice in the back of his mind knew he was acting rather childlike, but the woman brought it out of him.
Over the course of a few weeks, Anthony discovered Miss Sharma was nothing like he first imagined. At the beginning of his time here, he imagined her as a goddess. A strong rider and incredibly intelligent. Beautiful and confident.
And, most acutely an absolute menace.
She disagreed with nearly everything Anthony said and had no qualms disagreeing with him in front of the tenants. In fact, she almost always disagreed with him in the tenants’ home during visits. She was stubborn and adverse to change. She misconstrued almost everything he said, to the point that Anthony wondered if Miss Sharma enjoyed being purposefully obtuse around him.
She drove him mad.
She was glorious.
She hated him.
So, similar to a schoolboy, Anthony tugged on her metaphorical pigtails until she gave him a crumb of attention.
“And what is it this time, Miss Sharma? Let me guess — the turnips again? You have finally thought of a counterargument that will sway my position?”
The turnips were a point of contention two weeks prior. She was against growing something not native to the area, but lost that round of arguing due to Mr. Dawsey’s eagerness to try something new. Anthony had smiled so widely she stepped on his toes when she’d left.
Miss Sharma huffed and placed her basket on the ground. She crossed her arms and Anthony’s eyes grazed the top of her dress, the flush of her chest always a sight he enjoyed despite its accompanying frustration.
“You are trying to place more work onto Mr. Mondrich’s plate, I see.” She raised her eyebrows. “He has two children under the age of six and his wife is expecting another.”
“I am aware of his family, Miss Sharma,” Anthony answered. “I just lunched with them an hour ago.”
“Mr. Mondrich already takes on more work than necessary. He is an incredibly hard worker.”
“Yes, I agree —”
“But that does not mean you have the freedom to saddle him with more tasks.”
The wind whipped around her and Anthony caught a whiff of her lily-scented soap. He needed to close his eyes again to gather himself. Every time her scent got too close, Anthony found it hard to focus on anything else. After trial and error, he determined the best strategy for his bouts of overwhelming desire for the lady was to leave as quickly as possible.
“If that is all you have to say,” Anthony replied, “I must prepare for a meeting with your father.”
He turned and made his way toward his horse and Miss Sharma quickly followed him. “That is not all I have to say, Mr. Bridgerton! You cannot end a conversation by simply walking away.”
“No?” Anthony feigned confusion. “I thought that was the way around here as I learned the tactic from yourself, Miss Sharma.”
“I do no such thing!”
“Only the other day I tried to calmly discuss the possibility of partnering with the neighboring village and you stalked off before I could even explain my reasoning.”
“Calmly,” she muttered, “You were practically lecturing me on the matter.”
“As if I could lecture someone in such a short amount of time. You fled the scene after two sentences.”
“I heard someone calling for me.”
He scoffed loudly and stopped in front of his horse, Miss Sharma nearly tripping into his frame at his abrupt halt. She swayed on her feet for a moment and he wished he could steady her by the arms. Hated that she would likely slap him for thinking such things.
Anthony clenched his jaw, then bowed his head after allowing a brief moment to admire her face so closely.
“Well, if that’s how the tactic goes — It seems I hear someone calling for me. All the way at Ambleside, in fact. Must rush off.”
He smiled mockingly. After a moment, she shifted her look of anger to a similar, mocking smile. Anthony jumped onto his horse and began galloping away, determinedly keeping his eyes forward.
“Didi, if I hear you talk about turnips again I will run down to the field, grab a turnip — roots and all! — and stuff it down your throat.”
“That is unnecessarily grotesque, Edwina,” Mama lightly admonished from her place at their writing desk.
“Mama, she has been ranting about Mr. Bridgerton for nearly a quarter of an hour. I believe the graphic imagery was indeed necessary.”
Kate huffed and slouched down in her chair. With her arms crossed, she stuck her tongue out toward her younger sister while Mary focused on her correspondence. Edwina simply rolled her eyes and placed a finger where she paused her reading.
“I do not understand why he vexes you so,” Edwina said.
“He has changed too much!” Kate argued.
“Appa seems to agree with a lot of the changes he has made thus far. And the tenants seem happy.”
It was true. Their father had grown very fond of Mr. Bridgerton. Any time Kate tried to discuss her issues with him, Roshan sighed and let her speak before stating he trusted the young man.
“Perhaps you are entirely too trusting, Appa,” Kate had answered, the first time, and her father had given her a piercing look.
“And perhaps you need to trust more, my dear.”
And yet she had not found anything to trust! Not really. Certainly the tenants liked Mr. Bridgerton. The young girls especially — constantly swooning any time he rode past their homes. The older tenants thought him rather bright and the mothers thought him utterly charming. Kate was alone in her vexation.
Kate chewed on her lower lip and feigned disinterest. “I cannot explain it, Bon. It is a gut feeling. He makes me feel…tense. Like I must guard myself when he is present.”
She watched Mary’s pen stop on its page while Edwina muttered, “I’m sure he does.”
Kate chose not to respond and picked up her sketchbook and some charcoal. She excused herself and went to their garden to relax. She threw herself onto the ground, forgoing the bench not three paces away, and started working on a drawing she had started the other day.
“If you continue to furrow so often, I fear it will become permanent.”
She kept her eyes on her drawing, but felt someone sit beside her on the grass.
“I am sorry that this change has been so difficult on you, dearest. I know how much you wished for the land to remain under our care. A part of me wished for the same.” Mama sighed, deeply. “Although, if we are wishing, I suppose I really wish for Uncle to still be with us.”
Kate stopped and looked up toward her mama. She saw wistfulness and felt the pang of grief in her chest. She put down her things and turned toward Mary.
“I am sorry, Mama. I do not mean to be a nuisance.”
Mary looked at her, confused. “A nuisance? I said no such thing.”
“I know, but...” Kate fiddled with the grass under her fingers. “I have been acting rather poorly. I can see the way it tires Appa. Trying to keep things civil.”
“Oh, please. Your father wants you to get along with the young man, but not if it diminishes your true feelings. If you do not like him, you do not like him.” Mary brushed a curl out of Kate’s face. “Though…I do not think that is entirely true, is it?”
Kate stiffened. “What do you mean? I have made my feelings clear, Mama.”
“You have made it clear that Mr. Bridgerton makes you feel uncertain and tense.” Mary started listing Kate’s words, counting off on her fingers. “You have said he is insufferable. Arrogant. Competitive. Brash.”
“Yes! Is that not enough? He frustrates me.”
“That is not dislike. That is frustration.”
“He…” Kate pulled out some blades of grass and twisted them around her fingers. “It is the way he speaks to me.”
“Has he been disrespectful?” Mary’s tone immediately shifted to concern. “Improper?”
“No! No, it is not that.”
Mary relaxed. “Well. How does he speak to you?”
“Like he…like he knows what rebuttal I have in mind. He remembers things that I say with surprising preciseness. It is like he pays too much attention to my words. To my actions. To my thoughts — thoughts I have yet to fully articulate myself. He spouts them in the middle of an argument and it is disorienting.”
Kate felt her words tumbling out, all of the thoughts that had been circling her mind since the day she met Mr. Bridgerton — his close studies of her moods. How he approached her with apprehension when he knew he had news that would distress her. How he pointed out her hypocrisy. He learned how to anticipate her arguments the more he introduced change, and it made her feel more and more untethered.
“When I am around him I feel so…” Kate huffed and looked at Mary, whose face was soft with kindness. “I do not know what this is Mama. I know that I have not been fair, yet I cannot stop myself! It is maddening!”
Mary let out a chuckle and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Oh my darling. You will understand it soon enough. In the meantime, may I offer some advice?”
Kate nodded, her head tucked into her mama’s shoulder. Mary combed her fingers through her daughter’s hair. “Allow him to speak and try to listen without defenses. I think you will come to see that he wishes for your understanding. I’d go so far to say that he wishes for your approval.”
“Why would he want that? He has no need for my approval.”
Mary smiled and hugged Kate tighter. “Why, indeed?”
Anthony waited in the drawing room of the Sharma’s cottage. Roshan always took longer than expected to get ready, but Anthony never minded. He rather enjoyed the casualness of their relationship. It was still quite early, so Anthony stood by the window and enjoyed the peacefulness of the morning.
“Oh! Mr. Bridgerton.”
He looked up and stood quickly. Miss Sharma wore a simple day dress with a pashmina around her shoulders, clearly not expecting company. Her hair was loosely braided over her shoulder. It made her look ethereal.
“I didn’t think — That is to say,” Miss Sharma looked uncharacteristically nervous, and he felt concern picking at his chest. “I was not expecting you. I thought you and my father would have left by now.”
“Your father is still getting ready for our outing.”
Kate smiled, affectionately. “That sounds like him. Perpetually behind schedule.”
They stood there and Anthony waited for her to disappear down the hallway, as she was wont to do whenever she encountered him here. Instead, she took a step closer and cleared her throat.
“Have you broken your fast yet? I can order some toast and tea.”
His surprise must have shown because she replied with slight annoyance. “I am simply trying to be a proper hostess. No need to faint at the shock of my manners.”
Anthony laughed, loudly. He shook his head. “I am alright, thank you.”
She nodded and took a seat across from his own. He stood in shock before quickly remembering himself and sat back down. Miss Sharma pursed her lips and fiddled with the folds of her skirt.
“Has something happened?” He asked and she looked at him confused. “You have yet to flee from my company. I must assume some curse was brought upon you or a threat of some kind.”
She pursed her lips even more. He grinned, making it plain that he was teasing. His chest swelled when she revealed a slight smirk.
“Am I not allowed to sit in my own drawing room?”
“I think we have been acquainted long enough to know no one could ever dictate what you are and are not allowed to do.”
Miss Sharma’s smile widened ever so slightly, and Anthony had never felt so proud. She quickly tried to dampen it and shook her head, as though she needed to gather herself.
“I should’ve guessed you would be up already,” Anthony said.
Miss Sharma looked at him confused. He elaborated, “You are clearly a morning person. I assume you get up early to get a head start on your tasks while enjoying the quiet comfort of daybreak. Am I correct?”
Her jaw slackened slightly, and Anthony grinned, feeling smug. She quickly regained herself and grinned back, stealing his smugness.
“And you are clearly a night owl and a morning person. I assume you rarely get enough sleep due to your desire to be your absolute best.” She raised a brow. “Am I correct?”
It was his turn to be shocked. Of course she was correct, the maddening woman. Was she studying him the way he studied her? Squirreling away observations any time they shared a space?
“My, my, Miss Sharma,” Anthony tutted. “Been watching me, have you?”
She scoffed dismissively, but blushed deeply. He let out a chuckle and quietly preened.
Miss Sharma pretended to pick a piece of lint off her skirt, eyes still averted from his face, and changed the subject. “You are going to London to speak to our solicitor, yes?”
“Yes. As well as my own. And an accountant. It should not take the full day, though I have offered a guest room at Bridgerton House should your father want to rest.”
Miss Sharma’s eyes widened. “That is very generous of you.”
“I shouldn’t think so,” Anthony answered matter-of-factly. “It is not the longest journey, but it will be a very busy day. I do not want to overexert Mr. Sharma. And my mother loves to host. She shall not mind if we decide to rest one night.”
She nodded and glanced over her shoulder. “Perhaps you can do me a favor, Mr. Bridgerton.”
“Of course,” he said, quickly. His heart leapt at the chance of pleasing her.
“Perhaps…you can sway my father to stay for the night. Even feign your own exhaustion. You see, my father is —”
“Stubborn. Yes I know,” Anthony chuckled. “I planned to do as much myself. Or imply my mother’s distress at being left without a guest.”
Miss Sharma leaned back and nodded. “It seems we are in agreement, Mr. Bridgerton.”
Anthony leaned back and cocked his head to the side. “Are you certain you were not visited by some sort of witch overnight? I would never have guessed you would ever utter such a phrase in your life.”
“Very funny.”
“Or perhaps it is an elaborate scheme?” He continued, egging her on. “To obtain further intel on me.”
At that, she paused. “In a way, I suppose that isn’t too far off from the truth.”
He furrowed his brow, but was not able to ask further questions. Roshan hurried into the room, looking a bit disheveled. “Ah! Apologies for the delay.”
“It is quite alright, Mr. Sharma. Miss Sharma was keeping me company while I waited.”
Mr. Sharma looked at his daughter and waited for her to make a cutting remark. Instead, she simply stood and walked over to him. She straightened his cravat and lapels and told him to be safe.
Her father looked at her strangely and nodded before giving her a brief hug. Anthony nearly quipped about receiving a similar goodbye, but knew that Mr. Sharma’s kindness didn’t extend quite that far.
Instead, when Miss Sharma glanced over her shoulder and bid him goodbye, Anthony bowed his head and grinned.
“Take care, Miss Sharma.”
She lifted her brow and grinned as well. “I always do, Mr. Bridgerton.”
“Do you think Mrs. Mondrich will have a girl this time?” Edwina asked. The two sisters held a basket of supplies each — Mary’s latest bundles for the expectant mother.
“I think that it is just as likely to be a girl as it is to be a boy,” Kate answered and Edwina scoffed.
“You’re no fun.”
“I simply mean to say that —”
The two sisters slowed their steps in tandem at the unexpected sight before them. Mr. Bridgerton and some young man were farming the land by the Mondrichs’ home.
Kate’s eyes widened. Mr. Bridgerton had thrown off most of his top layers and was wearing only his unbuttoned shirt. With the light of the sun and the sweat from exertion, his shirt was practically translucent. Her heart started to beat wildly.
The outline of his chest and shoulders. The way his rolled sleeves displayed his arms.
She swallowed. Oh.
“Sister, I thought you said it isn’t proper to stare.”
“What?” Kate turned her head quickly toward Edwina, who grinned smugly beside her.
With a lifted eyebrow, Edwina turned back to the field and cupped a hand around her mouth to yell, “Mr. Bridgerton!”
Kate’s jaw dropped and she nearly slapped Edwina across the head. Mr. Bridgerton looked up from his work, squinting against the sun. He waved a hand and wiped his brow across his sleeve. He walked toward them, saying something to his fellow worker before leaving his side. Kate’s breath quickened.
Damn his handsome face. And his physique. Oh, she was certainly blushing now!
“Miss Sharma. Miss Edwina.” Mr. Bridgerton smiled and Kate cursed his dimples, too.
“Mr. Bridgerton!” Edwina said, gleefully, “What are you doing out here?”
His eyes met Kate’s gaze and she looked away, quickly. “I’m hoping to use this area to test some new irrigation methods. Mr. Mondrich was kind enough to let me use the land.”
“Irrigation methods?” Kate asked, thoughts focusing back toward his words rather than his appearance.
“Yes,” he answered, hands on his hips. “I studied different methods during my time at Oxford and have been keeping track of some recent research.”
“How fascinating,” Edwina replied.
“I think so. ” Mr. Bridgerton grinned. “Go on, Miss Sharma. Let us hear your counterargument.”
“Why would you assume I have one?”
“Because I just presented an idea and any idea presented by me must be despised by you.”
His words were sharp but his tone, light and teasing. Kate watched him raise his eyebrows in anticipation and felt a smile sneak across her face. His eyes lit up. She quickly cleared her throat and averted her gaze back to the land behind him. “I do not know much about irrigation, so I have no argument to offer.”
“Are you ill?” Edwina asked and Mr. Bridgerton was quick to reply.
“Now, now, Miss Edwina. Do not dissuade her from her olive branch. Let us simply savor the moment.”
Kate rolled her eyes. “And where is Mr. Mondrich? This is his land, is it not?”
“It is — The location is ideally situated for my tests. However,” Mr. Bridgerton grinned and gave her a sly look. “Mr. Mondrich will do none of the work. I’ve made sure of it. I asked if I could tend the land on my own. We discussed it over lunch the other week.”
She blinked at him, feeling properly chagrined. Kate pursed her lips. “Ah.”
“Indeed.”
This time, when Mr. Bridgerton met her gaze, Kate held it with her own. She looked at him, covered in dirt and sweat, feeling a bit foolish for her assumptions.
“And who is the young man with you?” She asked, and Mr. Bridgerton looked over his shoulder.
“Ah! That is Mr. Bagwell. He is from the neighboring village. I met him on one of my recent visits. He expressed his eagerness to earn some extra income to support his book buying habit. So, I asked if he would help me with my own studies.” Mr. Bridgerton leaned closer and lowered his voice.
“Truthfully, he isn’t the best farmhand. He is used to sitting behind a desk. But what he lacks in experience, he makes up for in earnestness. Not to mention he is very good with data collection and hypothesizing.”
“Sounds very official,” Edwina said, impressed.
“I actually did not ask him to take such steps, but his mind is built that way I think. I believe it helps him with the difficulties of farmwork.”
He said this all with a tone of fondness, and Kate couldn’t help herself from asking the obvious question.
“If he is not a well-trained farmhand, would it not be easier to find someone else?”
Mr. Bridgerton shrugged his shoulders and looked at the young man who was scribbling away on a piece of paper and studying the soil.
“He simply wants to expand his knowledge of the world, and is unable to stray too far from home. It was a bit difficult to refuse. He reminds me of one of my siblings.”
“One you are fond of, I hope,” Edwina teased.
“I would not tell him so, but he is rather similar to my youngest sister. She is eight and just as precocious and eager. I’m not sure what it says about a man of twenty, but I stand by the comparison.”
“And just how many siblings do you have, Mr. Bridgerton?” Kate asked, embarrassed she didn’t already know the answer.
“I have seven siblings.”
“Seven?!” Edwina exclaimed. “My goodness, your mother must have Herculean strength to birth eight children.”
“I think Edwina meant to say that with admiration,” Kate replied with a look, and Mr. Bridgerton laughed.
“By the time my parents announced the sixth child, my siblings and I had similar if not worse reactions. Eight is an inordinate number of children.”
Kate tilted her head and studied the fondness in his tone. The slight smile that crossed his face. “You miss them.”
He looked at her with surprise. “Yes. I do, actually. It’s not fashionable amongst London society, but our family is very close. We like spending time together.”
Edwina hummed. “Our father always said that you can tell a lot about a man from the way he treats his family.”
With the hand still placed in the crook of her sister’s arm, Kate pinched Edwina, hard. Edwina yelped loudly and nearly jumped away, but Kate held on to her forearm.
Mr. Bridgerton, unperturbed by the sisters’ bickering, looked at Kate while responding to Edwina’s words.
“Your father tends to be right about most things.”
Kate bit the inside of her cheek. And perhaps you need to trust more, my dear.
“Unfortunately, my father is right entirely too often.”
Later that night, Kate knocked on her father’s study door and let herself in. He looked up from his papers expectantly.
“I saw Mr. Bridgerton by the Mondrichs’ home today,” she said. She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders and swallowed. “He mentioned something about irrigation methods.”
“He is rather keen on testing them,” Appa answered. “Some of it goes over my head, but I’ve heard positive things.”
“Do you…do you have any literature about it? I’d like to learn more about the topic.”
Appa looked at her closely before reaching under a pile of his papers. He pulled out a few pamphlets and a slim book and handed them to her.
“Be gentle on the boy, Kathani. This one is a passion of sorts.”
“I do not mean to argue against it. I only wish to understand it,” Kate said, defensively. “I have no issues with his tests.”
At that, Appa sat back and folded his hands in his lap. “Really?”
She fidgeted with the materials in her hand before letting out a small sigh. “Perhaps…I was too hasty in my judgment toward Mr. Bridgerton. I will admit that it wasn’t due to bad character. He…seems to be a good person. He simply disorients me, that is all.”
“He disorients you?”
“Yes, Appa. Ever since our first meeting he’s made me feel rather…out of sorts.”
Her father sighed deeply and muttered under his breath, “Gods above.”
“What? I thought you wanted me to trust him more,” she said, confused.
“I do,” Appa replied, rubbing the middle of his forehead. “I do. This is a good step forward.”
“Then why do you look as though I am giving you a headache?”
He laughed softly, and moved his hands back toward his desk. For some reason, his eyes were shining. Appa shook his head. “I am only thinking of how quickly time moves, Kate. It is making your appa feel a bit nostalgic.”
“Alright,” Kate answered, still confused but willing to move past his underlying meaning. “Perhaps I should do something to counter the nostalgia? Climb another tree on a dare only to break my arm again?”
They laughed quietly and her father took one of her hands into his own. He gave it a gentle squeeze. “No, darling. It is alright. You continue to grow and I will watch proudly.”
Anthony knew Miss Sharma enjoyed morning rides. Not because she shared such information about herself. No — whilst out on his own early morning rides, Anthony often saw her racing across a field with her riding cloak flowing behind her.
So he suspected he might see her again this morning. He certainly did not expect to see her lounging under a tree beside the stream.
Anthony saw her before she noticed his arrival. She must have been deeply enthralled by whatever literature sat in her lap because on any other day the sound of his horse walking through the woods would’ve certainly caught her attention.
He slipped off his horse and stayed behind the trees. Her riding cloak was being used as a blanket, spread out beneath her. Miss Sharma clearly did not expect any company based on her appearance. Her hair was only loosely pulled back by a ribbon and she wore a thick dressing gown, the hem of nightgown peeking through.
Despite losing his own innocence many years ago, the informality of her dress made Anthony blush. It was so… intimate. Seeing her like this. He tried to quietly steer his horse toward whence they came only to be thwarted by his steed’s impatience. The horse stomped its feet and let out a gruff sigh.
Miss Sharma’s head shot up and Anthony froze in place. Her hand clutched the front of her dressing gown, covering her chest, and he blushed even more. Yes, properly embarrassed like the schoolboy I become around this woman, he thought.
“Miss Sharma, apologies,” Anthony quickly said, “I didn't mean to intrude. I shall leave you to your studies.”
“Wait — Mr. Bridgerton, if you don’t mind, please wait.”
His heart leapt. Anthony stood still and Miss Sharma cleared her throat and looked at her hands.
“It is serendipitous, actually,” she replied in a softer tone, “As I was just thinking of you.”
That caused his heart to become frantic. Anthony couldn’t help the pleased smile spreading across his face. “Were you now?”
At that, Miss Sharma rolled her eyes. She held up the papers in front of her. “I am reading about your irrigation ideas.”
Now that was a surprise. Anthony led his horse toward the stream, tying the reins on a branch, then walked toward Miss Sharma. He stood, hesitant, until she motioned that he sit by her. He perched himself on a stump a respectable distance away.
“I may be clever, but I must admit I did not invent irrigation as a concept.”
“These are your ideas,” she explained, “As they are the notes you gave to my father. Your plans for the Mondrichs’ land.”
“Ah. I see.” Anthony gestured toward her with his open hand. “Well, then. Do I need to prepare myself? Shall I organize my dissenting argument?”
Miss Sharma took a deep breath. “I am thinking that perhaps these ideas will work. Work very well, indeed.”
His jaw went slightly slack. “Is that so?”
She nodded.
They looked at each other. The gentle sound of the stream and the warmth of the burgeoning sunlight made the moment even more idyllic, but they were details that would only return to Anthony years from now. For presently, all he could see and feel was Miss Sharma and the nascent trust she bestowed on him.
“However,” she said, “I do have my opinions, Mr. Bridgerton.”
Then Miss Sharma twisted her lips into a smirk and Anthony knew he was hers forever.
“And I shall be glad to hear them.”