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All of Anthony’s life was surrounded by grands. A grand estate in the country, another in the city. A grand position. Money. Duty. Responsibilities the magnitude of which remained unfathomable to most, given his precision and hard-learnt ease of dealing with them.
These days, all of his world could be boiled down to one Kathani Sharma.
She was all fiery eyes and ferocious snarls, capable enough to send his blood burning in her wake. She had galloped into his life one blessed morning, a kindred spirit, and had left him in knots. Knots of passion, loathing, and aggression.
To think that he had deprived himself of her for so long.
What a fool he had been, holding on to the superficial institutions of honor all while trampling over the pride of the woman he should have cherished from the very first moment.
It was abominable.
Now, all that he intended was for her to share the flames that she had lit in his heart. To burn brightly like a star, or to be eaten away like lovesongs inscribed on burning paper.
Either way, Kathani Sharma had to live and die as his. Matching him perfectly, because, in all sincerity and the simplest of understanding, he was hers.
For all of Anthony’s ill-begotten trysts and rancid expectations when it came to love and companionship, his descent into the sweltering, brutal pool of love had been comically quick and faithlessly fated.
Quick because it had taken mere seconds, a gamble with destiny when he had imperiously decided to race with a woman in Hyde Park at dawn.
Comical because not so contrary to his masochistic self, he had built a world of falsities around it and proceeded to almost lose her its narrow, treacherous lanes.
Fated because there was no world in which he wouldn’t fall headfirst, heartfirst, soulboundedly in love with her.
And faithless because that is what he had been, to his heart and hers. He had made a mistake, he had ridden into her life on a Trojan horse, and he would ensure that life onward would be nothing but a bed of roses for Kate
No thorn would ever prick her, not as long as he lived.
Not unless she made some pathetic, misguided attempt to leave that bed of roses that he planned to embrace her in. For a lifetime locked and devoted to one another.
Kate Sharma was written in gold and bleeding red all over his skin. Her eyes could as well have been etched into his soul, and her kiss had savored him whole.
He had devoured her lips against a tree and now he was convinced that any unfortunate morning where he wasn’t stealing her breath right off her lips was a morning not worth surviving.
He had ridden straight behind her into Danbury house. It was still close to seven, and he knew none of the ladies woke before eight.
She had hissed at him to leave, looking downright murderous as she told him to never come back, to not dare think that this would lead to anything good. He had met her righteous demands with the most unrighteous staunchness, matching her aggression with his well-meaning madness and strength.
Kate had branded his pursuit as deranged, and he had quite derangedly admitted that he felt nothing short of insane each moment that he was in her presence and equally so in each moment that he wasn't. That she was his temple and his damnation, and she better prepare herself for a life that had him hanging like a noose around her neck.
She had shaken her head ruefully as he went on about how he would need such depths of derangement to survive, lest he burn the whole of London down. Like she could not believe his audacity to make such demands. Truth be told, Anthony couldn't believe himself either, but he was ready to be a despot so long as it granted him the salvation that was her company.
She had to be his. Properly. Not just in stolen moments at dawn and dusk.
Anthony was convinced the world would not be right till that was settled.
She had called him a vapid mad dog, trying to elbow him and push him back out the same door, hissing to call the authorities, to shoot him in the chest herself if she got her hands on a gun.
He had only chuckled before taking her left hand in his, the one on which she had worn his ring. His eyes flickered from her eyes to their intertwined fingers as he pulled her closer, the buzzing intensity of their union palpable in the air.
Anthony cradled her fingers before removing the thick glove that separated her skin from his. That had stilled her, even though the fires burnt in her eyes. Finger after finger he removed the offending item, till her searing skin was in his hold, despite all her attempts to pull it back. He could risk a passing servant or two, a murmur, or a gossip. He could risk the little gasps as the help noticed his disheveled self, at the wound that remained tattooed on his neck. A mark of her, a tattoo of the stronghold she had on him.
A mark of how he burnt and bled for her.
How perfectly their hands fit in one another. As if hers was carved with him in mind. To intertwine and stay in place.
Even if a heavy manacle was needed to keep the hold secure.
He had only tightened his hold on her hand before promising to bring a gun with himself the next time he came to see her.
He had told her he would stand as close to her as possible with the gun between them, so her aim would have no choice but to be true. Only if she would allow him to look into her eyes as he passed.
She had had the most beautiful frown on her face, which brunt into a snarl and a shove when he became impertinent enough to ask if she would be able to live with his corpse at her feet. He had jibed at her weak point, callously called her heartless, and had told her that he believed she would be able to evade the law, and run back to India like she had designed. Find herself another man to love and be wife of, another man to swell with child of.
She had gaped at him, so furious and so stricken all at once, a tremble in her lips and an underlying sheen of tears in her eye, and he could feel a part of his heart heal.
Even at the expense of hurting her, he reveled in the revelation that she cared.
He was surely allowed a few blows, given her immense scheming to give him away. She deserved a fraction of the hurt that she had made him feel when she had branded the precious flower between them as mere passion.
He would do his penance later, when she was his. Completely. Not that Kate didn’t already belong to him, but he was waiting for when their love would be celebrated and hailed by society. He would torch all of her wounds away, especially the ones that he had inflicted.
Only if Kathani would stop resisting. Taming her was easy, he only had to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her to him, press his lips to hers. That was enough to make a docile lady out of her.
But Anthony had not survived on squandering over his happiness for the last ten years simply to give up on her resistance. Not when he throve on it. Not when the defiance in her eyes gave the fuel for his heart to pump.
Instead, in the full view of anyone awake at that hour, he had lifted her ungloved hand to his mouth, pressing his sensuous claim on her fingers. He could only hold himself back from taking her fingers in his mouth.
Kate had trembled. She had positively melted, despite all her seething and glaring. Her sighs were heaven and hell if they were to ever collide, euphoria burning as strongly as ruinous longing, as they battled head-on.
He had cradled her face still, chuckling over her lips as she tried so hard to push him away. The memory of it played out delicately in his mind because between them, combat and resistance was but a dance. A dance of love. A dance of souls meeting, colliding, keeping the stars ever burning.
He had left with a promise to come back. A promise to take her with him. To make her his wife.
They both must be damned because the outer layer of resistance and anger aside, her eyes had burned with a dangerous hunger.
In the rise and fall of her chest, was a threat that he better keep that promise.
—-
An audience with the queen was no easy feat but he was Viscount Bridgerton. Poised, dutifully dressed, and prepared to meet the monarch, to deliver his piece, and to rightfully reclaim his peace.
The favor of the queen was needed if he was to execute his dastardly plan.
The more he thought of his decision to elope to Gretna Green, the more it felt like spitting in the face of their love. To take a ride that took them four days, to be married at some shady dwelling with nothing valuable and no one of significance in the audience. It felt like a slap to his and Kate’s love.
Could that be why Kate was so vehemently against the idea of eloping? Because it meant that there was something nefarious about their love, something unacceptable?
Knowing her, she didn’t. She only thought of the betrayal it would be to her blasted sister.
To have a happy married life, Anthony needed to ensure that Edwina was as far away from them as possible. The wrong sister had the intention to return to India. Then again, when did the Sharmas care about the right sister?
Anthony would take it upon himself to explain to her his new decision. There would be no elopement. She did not deserve anything short of heaven, and their wedding would be perfect. Either at Aubrey Hall or at St.Paul’s, Kate would have the wedding of her dreams.
If only the menace would stop resisting. Before he had left, she had hissed out, under no uncertain terms, that she would rather kill him than marry him, and that if he so much as dared harm her family she would ruin him.
All while her eyes begged with fervent need and hunger, afflictedness and neglect eating her whole, asking to be taken and saved. He could see her internal conflict, resisting her needs in light of her family.
How fiercely his lady loved.
If only she would allow someone to envelop her, from head to toe, in that same maddening curse of love.
“Lord Bridgerton, I must say I did not anticipate this visit, urgent enough to rouse the palace before common call timings.” The Queen pressed her lips and looked him over, sensing that something was to derail her grand plans for the season. “Especially since we very recently discussed your impending nuptials.”
“You Majesty.” He bowed before standing straight, steeling his gaze on the Queen and her train. Mindless pomp and a hell lot of meddling was all she was about. “This discussion was impertinent because it pertains to that very topic. My nuptials to your diamond. I would suggest any and all preparation towards the event be stopped because I would not be marrying Miss Edwina.”
“What?” The queen spat, looking incensed. “What has suddenly brought on this development? I was told you were a love match!”
Anthony barked out a laugh, the uncouthness of his behavior startling everyone present, the Queen included.
“Were you informed of that detail, or was it a title you had given out of your premonitions, with little evidence on the matter, Your Majesty?”
“Take a care how you speak, Viscount Bridgerton.” The queen chided.
“My Apologies.” He bowed again, custom and years of restraint pulling him back into the carefully molded chains that held up Viscount Bridgerton, kept him functioning like a proper, respectable member of society. Respect and properness meant power. And if he was to have Kate, he would need all the power in the world.
The queen looked on impatiently, clear distaste written on her face. Anthony was certain his eyes declared and mirrored the same, for her impossible schemes and puppeteering.
“The decision to end the engagement was decided upon by both families as the best course of action.” It was not decided yet, but he had decided that it would happen, and he would not relent till it did. “In time, it will be replaced by another Bridgerton Wedding. A true love match and an ode to our family’s history.”
“Jilting the diamond is a slap to the face of the crown, Lord Bridgerton. Surely you know what ruin would follow if the wedding is to be called off at this stage? I would not allow for it.”
Anthony had expected that. And he had come prepared.
“I wasn’t here seeking permission for the grand designs of my own life, Your Majesty. I merely seek to inform you of my plans. I will not have a third person decide on who I need to marry and I am certain Miss Edwina could do without your most indelicate endeavors.”
“Viscount Bridgerton, how dare you speak to your queen like that!” The Queen had risen, fury written on her face.
“A Queen with nary a power.” He stood tall, shoulders puffed. “It is the lords at the parliament who hold real, true powers. Might I remind you yours is limited to the church and the frivolities of the mart? Your court might not be favored overseas, but I am. Between the Prince Reagent and the ailing king, there is little gain in making an enemy out of me. Not when so many Dukes and Earls support my stands and make a profit off of my business investments. Surely you wouldn’t want the royal family to lose a third of the Lord’s favor?”
The Queen sat back, furious. Her train gaped at him.
“What went wrong with Miss Edwina?” She after a few deep breaths, as if to blow over the wounds he had inflicted without so much moving.
“Nothing went wrong. It was a misguided, terrible mistake built on a false foundation. Bowing out would be the only honorable thing to do, especially in light of recent revelations.”
“What revelations?” The Queen perked up.
“One daughter being lifted upon the debris of another. The Sharmas had arranged for a dowry, at the expense of one sister’s humiliation, through Lord and Lady Sheffield. It would be imprudent to marry into an arrangement that directly allows a family as vile as the Sheffields to hold a sword over the groom’s head. Whoever Miss Edwina is to choose after this doomed engagement ends, I would endeavor for you to make it known.”
The Queen pursed her lips.
“You mentioned a love match. Why enter into an engagement when your heart was with another?”
Anthony stiffened. That day, that decision, now felt like an out-of-the-body experience. He could not allow his reasonings to align and he could not make peace with whatever conflict he seemed to have in his head back then, that had led to him swarming down the steps to propose to Miss Edwina.
“My reasons were my own, your majesty. Only to be explained to the lady in question.”
“And is this Lady a member of the ton?” The queen asked suspiciously.
Anthony took another deep breath. This was taking longer than needed and he had to be at Danbury house with his mother. To say that images of her taking a horse disappearing to the docks did not plague his mind would be an understatement, but he had enquired of the ships to India and he knew that nothing was set to sail in that direction for a month. Only smaller cargo ships were to leave the dock today. He had sent word to some of his faithfuls at the dockyards and the borders, to ensure that any lady attempting to make a discreet escape have her attempts thwarted. The staff at both Danbury house and Bridgerton house, as well as many carriage drivers, had been put to work, to scout for Miss Sharma and ensure she did not make another harrowing attempt at quitting him.
Yet, all of that meant nothing if she wasn’t in his presence. For that, he had to put this tiring debate with the queen to rest and go find her. To ensure she never escaped his sights and clutches again, even if it meant compromising her in front of everyone.
After kissing her in open view of some people, to say that a dormant beast had stirred in his chest would be an understatement. It roared and stomped through him in her absence and inspired him to set the world on fire in her presence.
“She is a Lady who stands taller than all of the women in the ton. She is regal, in her graces and virtues and she commands strength and respect in whichever room she stands. I only have the highest praise for her, Your Majesty.”
The queen looked momentarily consoled. “And might I intrude further to ask for her name?”
Anthony stood tall, his chest puffed out. “Miss Kate Sharma.”
He stayed for ten more minutes, and then he was rushing towards the woman who had ten fingers wrapped around his heart.
—-
Kate was trembling.
White hot fury was zapping through her veins. The outrage.
Fervent, dark eyes swimming with maddening impulse and glorious possession haunted her every breath.
He had reacted in a way that sent her whole body up in flames. She wasn’t sure what to think, she wasn’t even sure she was breathing. When she had found him at dawn and he had confessed that he couldn’t sleep, she had assumed she would be able to speak to him. Possibly walk back from that conversation unscathed.
How wrong she was.
She had chosen the most diminishing, hurtful words. She had spoken them out only because he had insisted that their paths need not cross again. She had wanted to yell, that nothing on earth could happen to make it as if their paths had never crossed. He was a burden and a curse that would forever remain in the grave of her heart.
And yet, when she had responded to his words, in what she hoped was the best course of action, he had snapped. As if it was valid for him to go back on the words he had so dismissively uttered. As though some infernal creature from hell had possessed him, he had switched from a detached man to a frenzied lunatic who was on the brink of losing everything.
He had gone from soft pleading to aggravated questioning and then slipped into unhinged plans of murder with hardly a breath in between.
As if all of this was not his creation in the first place.
Kate recognized his behavior as something akin to late realization, something akin to the thirst that makes the deer run through the whole of the forest in search of the nectar that rests in its belly.
She refused to let a mercurial man dictate her life. She refused to let someone pull her and her family down as he sunk into ruin. Beyond the possession and the accusation in his eyes was a desperate man pleading with her to hold on, to give him a sign, allow him just a fraction of an agreement.
Kate couldn’t offer him that.
Not when he had decided to dig his own grave and now wished to rest with her in it. She had a family to save. A sister, whose life may or may not be under threat. And here she was, gasping in front of a mirror, trying to settle the furious race of her heart.
She remembered the way he had pulled her to himself, her hands twisted and pinned to the small of her back, and her chest aligned to his, his breath claiming hers. Her stomach had lurched and she was certain he had felt her heart pounding against her chest.
He had kissed her and she had almost cried out in frustration when he let go and did not kiss her back again. It was terrible, the deprivation of it.
If only Kate wasn’t so treacherously angry, she would have stopped him at the gates, pushed him against the first sturdy surface, and snatched a furoous kiss. Then she would have bitten his neck again, so he could remember that all of this was his design. That he was responsible for not being hers.
Then she would have left him, gasping and heaving, craving for more. Just the way he had left her.
All of this was so unimaginably wrong.
Kate had to find Lady Danbury. First, she had to ensure that Edwina would be safe. Hopefully, before evening came, she would find a way to prevent the Viscount from tossing her on a horse and taking her away with him.
Guns, perhaps? Those would do. Knives. The way she had sunken her teeth on his neck, maybe she could carve on his chest. Pierce the tip of it into his heart, remind him of exactly what was at stake, and hope that he wasn’t too far gone in his erratic need to have her to risk that.
Was she now supposed to play with his fears, just so she could drive him away?
Did she even wish to drive him away?
Why was her body reacting with goosebumps and an uncontrollable heat each time she remembered his touch, the way he picked her off the horse, and the way he felt when he had pressed her–
No.
She immediately discussed the impending breaking of the engagement with Lady Danbury, discreetly putting hints that included a retreat. To the country. To some of Mary’s old friends. For heaven’s sake, she was ready to write to the Sheffields to take Edwina to their estate lest a mad viscount go forward with his plans to remove her from his life.
Kate still could not understand why her body alighted at every displaced memory from the morning.
“Viscount Bridgerton and Lady Bridgerton, for Lady Danbury, Lady Mary, Miss Sharma, and Miss Edwina Sharma.”
Mama and Edwina found themselves in the sitting room, and the moment she heard his boots thumping against the floor, Kate felt the hair at the back of her neck rise. They stood to greet their guests, post which Lady Bridgerton sat beside Lady Danbury.
The Viscount did not move. Not really.
Kate had made it a point to not even look him in the eye, but she knew. He would make it painfully obvious that he was waiting for her to acknowledge him.
“Miss Sharma.”
She trembled again.
Reluctantly, and only barely concealing her distaste, she turned to finally face him, feeling the breath knocked out of her chest at the way he was looking at her. No, it wasn’t that haunted, desperately vindictive, and pained look from the morning. There were no traces of passion and fury either, simply the most ardent admiration and the necessity to have her look him in the eyes.
“Didi?” Edwina’s soft whisper had her shudder and blink, only realizing much later that this was the deplorable man’s trick, to showcase to her family and closest ones just what he intended to do post this engagement breaking.
With her cheeks on fire, she looked at Lady Danbury and Lady Bridgerton, both of who looked simply tired and a touch relieved. As if they had resorted for this to happen and were only glad that it had surfaced.
Of course. They knew the Viscount. Surely they would have had a better idea of his eccentricities.
Kate couldn’t dare look at Mama or Edwina. She knew what would be written on their faces.
Lord Bridgerton had taken a seat next to her. Not close enough for his warmth to cut through the cold dread rising in her chest, but close enough that if he intended to catch her, he could.
She needed to stop taking comfort from that wretched idea.
“Now that we are all settled, let us not stall. We all know the intentions surrounding today's visit, so we might as well get on with it.” Lady Danbury spoke, most indelicately.
Kate heard Edwina choke back a sob and stiffened.
“In the light of recent revelations and schemes,” The Viscount started, putting so much emphasis on schemes that she had to turn and offer him an icy glare, one that was met head-on by the most fervent stare that did not waver from her. As though he was not aware of anyone in the room. “It is only wise that this doomed engagement be put to an end. There is the matter of the Sheffield dowry, certainly, and the lack of transparency between the two families, but also another glaring matter that needs to be addressed.”
“And what might that be, Lord Bridgerton?” Lady Danbury asked, all the eyes in the room trained on him. Kate couldn’t stop wringing her fingers.
“The unsuitability of Miss Edwina to be Viscountess Bridgerton.” He retorted, most cruelly.
Gasps of shock and indignation followed, along with Lady Danbury’s incensed, “Take a care of how you speak, boy.”
Kate’s blood boiled. This was getting personal. She was the one who had trained Edwina. It was all circling back to his ridiculous demands from the terrace, was it not? Passion had cooled and with a resolute head he must have understood the implications of his actions and so he dared question her sister’s capabilities.
“Edwina has all the qualities anyone could need to be Viscountess. She could even be a Duchess or a Princess if she need be.” Kate snapped in defense of her sister.
“Miss Sharma, are you certain your sister is even out of leading strings? For there are many virtues that a Viscountess and a Duchess need, and philosophy or graceful dancing do not cut. Someone who is meant to hold that position should not be blind, or wilfully ignorant of what is transpiring in plain sight around her.”
Another attack. Kate could barely stop herself from throttling him. Lady Bridgerton doled out a scandalized, “Anthony!”
“You will refrain from insulting my charge, Lord Bridgerton.” Lady Danbury chipped.
“I only speak the truth as it is.” He responded cooly, never looking away from her.
“However.” he finally turned his gaze away from hers, to look at Lady Danbury and then at her mama. “I am certain, Lady Mary, that you would find your daughter another match. Perhaps in a less challenging household, perhaps with a second son. Surely, now a second son can make it to her list of eligible candidates.”
“Clearly they will prove to be more illustrious matches, Bon.” Kate fired back. “You would have a marriage not built on lies or duty or simple cowering fear. Escapism and sadness would not haunt your every move and your family would be cherished and loved.”
There. If they were hurting one another, she had many a thing to say.
Tears were streaming down Edwina’s eyes.
“What lies, Kate? What escapism? You are still pinning the blame on the Viscount when it was you who had been lying all along!”
Kate reared back as if shot. Someone could have thrown acid at her and that would have stung less. Edwina stood up from her seat, looking slightly less than a lovable doll now that tear tracks marred her face, and she was pacing wildly before rounding up at her like an antagonized animal.
“The Viscount and I were resolved. He was offering me everything and I was happy." She screeched and Kate tensed up. From the corner of her eyes, she could see the Viscount tensing up himself, his fists white, as if he were to pounce any moment."Only you with your schemes and your plans, you ruined–”
“Miss Edwina” In her anger, her sister had almost come to her face, and all at once Anthony’s chair was pushed back in his haste to stand in front of her. Kate could not see his face but she knew of the fury that must be burning in there. She stood as well.
“Don’t.” He whispered, all too calm for a person like him.
Edwina gaped.
“I do not need you defending me from my sister.” Kate rounded them both as all the other women stood.
“I only wish to speak to my intended, before we part ways,” He looked at her for a moment before turning back to Edwina. “Alone.”
Kate reared back as if struck. His intended? Parting ways?
In the sharpness of his eyes, she could see the vindictive victory, and she knew. Anthony was baiting her, toying with her, hurting her for hurting him. Hurting her for refusing him. Hurting her for lashing out, for not running into his arms as he left. Like he had hurt her in the morning with that terrifying visual of a life where he was no more.
Kate’s hands shook, almost willing to jab her elbow into his eye. She was sure if she stayed a moment longer with the Viscount she would do something just as foolish as his actions in the morning.
Mama added a layer of calm to the volatile room.
“Please calm down, all of you. I apologize, but that is impossible, Viscount Bridgerton. Not when you intend to break this betrothal.”
“I intend to do things right and for that, it is imperative that Miss Edwina knows.” Kate’s eyes rounded in terror, her gaze flickering to his neck, where his cravat covered the mark she had left on him.
He caught her, of course he did. Like a sinner pulled to the altar, she trembled in fear. His eyes had that same wolfish hunger, and a layer so smug she could reel from it.
“It wouldn’t take more than five minutes, lady Mary. Surely our betrothal isn’t over until I and Miss Edwina discuss its ending?”
Another knife to the chest. Why was she hating this? Why was he doing this to her? Why was Mama agreeing? Why was Lady Danbury not seeing sense?
It wasn’t just impropriety. How could she forget what he had threatened to do to get Edwina out of their way?
Kate had no idea what she was supposed to make of all of this. The man who had compromised her this morning now intended an unchaperoned with her sister. If no one was to raise an objection, she would. She needed to, for the safety of her sister. She told herself that, hoping her treacherous heart agreed.
“You very well know we cannot allow her in a room alone with you, I will–”
“Didi, please. Stop involving yourself in my affairs. Stop ruining my life. Just don't.” Edwina spat at her, hate stemming in her eyes.
Something in Kate sank. Suddenly, it was like that empty can of jaggery from several years back, the sight of which had devastated her. It was Edwina who had eaten it all without sparing a morsel for her, despite knowing that the delicacy was Kate’s. The suppressed anger of her fifteen-year-old self suddenly flooded the top of her mind.
Mama’s admonishment of Edwina was suddenly not enough. The indignation and compressed fury in the Viscount’s eyes and Lady Danbury’s irritated grunt was not enough. The disapproval in Lady Bridgerton’s eyes was not enough. The twitch in Lord Bridgerton’s jaw and the clenching of his fists was not enough.
Steady and detached, the Viscount led Edwina to the adjoining parlor, keeping the gates open.
“This mess needs to be handled well. We need a good story.” Her mama said, shaking her head and sitting down. Kate gaped at her, and then only when Lady Danbury gave her a look, she settled down, looking at the mesh wall behind which sat Anthony and Edwina.
Why did it feel like a knife to the chest would hurt less?
“A mutual decision between both families. Miss Edwina was swept up by the glamours of the season and simply made the wrong decision. There is no bad blood between families and we are all happy.” Lady Bridgerton supplied hopefully.
“Will that be enough to convince the Ton? They would scout and judge Edwina at every ball.” Kate’s hands trembled. She could hardly listen to any of what these women were saying.
“Miss Sharma and I have decided on that. Miss Edwina would visit Lady Canterbury, Lady Mary’s childhood friend from Somerset. It would pull her away from the ton’s ruthless scrutiny and she would be back in time for the Engagement ball, which now needs to be renamed.”
“That seems like a good plan.”
Her ears strained to capture the hushed murmurs from there. She caught a gasp, she caught some choice snappy words from the viscount, and a disgruntled “No” and “Please” from her sister.
Something in Kate was sinking. A building, perhaps? Maybe a ship. She identified a storm. There was a storm in her heart and how on earth was she supposed to run from something that was inside her?
Edwina was the one whose engagement broke and yet she was the sister who was feeling jilted.
“Because I love you. And I refuse a life without you.”
He lied.
Did he?
Why was she breathing so hard? Why was her heart thudding so low all at once?
“I have another idea.” She could hear Lady Bridgerton say. “To show harmony between the two families, we could have Miss Sharma be our guest till the day of the ball?” Then the dowager Viscountess kindly looked at her, and she could see the innocent ministrations of a mother trying to help her lost son.
Something howled in Kate’s chest.
“What do you say, Miss Sharma? I could use some help with the preparations of the ball.”
There was a ringing in her ears.
“So be it. I am a selfish man who wants you. I will have you.”
Was he even in earnest or was she made a fool? Just for some momentary pleasure of his?
From the parlor, Edwina came out, heavy gasps impeding her as she entered the sitting area again, her voice hoarse from unshed tears. For once, Kate found herself unbothered by it. Not after the recent turn of betrayals.
“I would like to depart for Somerset at the earliest, Mamma.”
Kate clenched her jaw. That lunatic, what exactly had he told Edwina? Her sister turned, sobbing as she retreated to her room and then a very composed and somewhat entertained Viscount Bridgerton entered the sitting area, reclaiming his seat beside her.
Kate glowered at him.
He had the nerve to give her a smug smile. “So, Miss Edwina’s affairs being settled, should we move on to damage control? I trust you ladies have already thought of it, have you not?”
“We have. We have a plan.” His mother nodded encouragingly at Lady Danbury. “Miss Edwina escapes the ton’s immediate judgment while Miss Sharma goes as a guest to the Bridgerton household. She stays there and helps Lady Bridgerton with ball preparations as a show of unity and friendship between our houses. I trust such a visit would end well?”
There was something steely and terrifying about Lady Danbury’s question and her Viscount was looking back with equal ferocity.
“I trust there is no other place she should be in.” A wave of some sort of impending doom hung over the room, everyone realizing just what this would lead to. Somehow, everyone in the room had bowed to the inevitability of it as well, as if they had all been a part of his frenzied conversation.
Mama looked weary as she went. “I will write to you of any development, Kate. And we would be back for the Ball. I trust Lady Danbury and Lady Bridgerton to take care of you?”
Kate had to refrain from snapping back that she did not need care. Not really.
Then, she felt the mercurial pair of eyes attached to her skin, drinking her up, and she quivered. She might not need care, but she needed protection. From him. He alone held the power to leave her broken.
“I will send for a maid to pack some of your belongings. It would be a good display of amiability if Lord Bridgerton were to escort Miss Edwina to her carriage and for Miss Sharma to join Lady Bridgerton in her carriage back home.” Lady Danbury suggested, carefully watching everything and vetting them.
“And Miss Sharma, I trust you to keep a calm head and help us work our way around this scandal?”
Kate nodded. “Yes, I will do my best.” Why did the dowager think that keeping her in the same house at the Viscount was a good idea? Ideally, she would have expected her to already come to a harrowing conclusion about their tryst and whack them with her cane.
As they left the room, Kate felt a warm hand on her lower back. It remained fleetingly, but her heart lurched and her skin burnt where he had touched her, as if he had embossed a claiming mark there.
Lord Bridgerton brushed past her arm, dousing her in his overbearing heat, and Kate felt his touch burn on her skin as she watched him offer his arm to Edwina, who robotically, with a lot of hatred and contempt in her eyes, allowed him to lead her out.
Away.
Kate knew exactly what was unfolding here. She did not like it one bit.
“It is only for her good that I am sending her away.” Lady Danbury whispered, standing next to her.
“And what about me? Did you grow tired of my company?” She asked, fixing the dowager with a stare. A chill ran down her spine as she saw the understanding and the trepidation in her host’s eyes. The servants had indeed spoken.
“I would never.” Lady Danbury shook her head, far more kindly than she would have expected her to. “I am simply sending to make things easier. If things are to go by design, this might just become an early homecoming for you.”
The Viscount chose that moment to turn to her, as if he was hanging on to their entire conversation. Kate drew in a sharp breath, anger and passion swirling in her eyes, reflected equally in his. She did not know who she was wounding, but she had to say her piece. She had promised to not make it easy, after all.
“There cannot be much certainty in one’s execution of plans. We saw our best designs fall apart, did we not?”
Lady Danbury could only nod.
Bidding farewell to the dowager, Kate stepped forward, ignoring the Viscount’s hand as she went and sat into the carriage. She wasn’t interested in taking his hand or being led. He could do that to Edwina, not to her.
His eyes met hers at the gate of the carriage, an impassioned challenge in them. It sent her nerves aflame, and Kate could only shake her head and try to stop herself from relenting.
“I trust you would not ask me to elope from your own household? It would be far too foolish, even for you.”
Anthony laughed before he snatched her hand as if it was meant to be in his. Without a fear of the ladies and witnesses who stood some mere feet away, he tugged her togards himself, and once again, Kate found herself half leaning over him, a hand on his shoulder, their faces too close for her sanity.
His knuckles ran down her temple and cheek, a reverent possession in his eyes.
“My lady, I intend to marry you in front of all of London society. When you become my wife, I would have every man in this country know. So they know who you belong to.”
Kate’s heart somersaulted in her chest, and she snatched her hand back, scowling and pulling away, pushing herself deeper into the carriage.
“I belong to no one. I am beholden to no one.”
He merely looked at her with that wolfish grin that reminded her of many, many impure thoughts.
“Then I shall dedicate myself to changing that, my dear Viscountess.” He ran his thumb over her knuckles, before lifting her hand to his mouth and pressing another kiss.
“Welcome home, Lady Bridgerton.”