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This is a terrible idea, one Miss Kathani Sharma thought to herself not for the first time since arriving to the country that seemingly caused her nothing but strife. In fact, she was convinced that this was quite possibly the worst idea ever conceived throughout the history of all mankind.
Now of course, she was aware that one could accuse her of being overly dramatic making such an assertion and she was usually not one for such hyperbole anyway. And yet, the circumstances in which she found herself at present were so utterly deplorable and degrading that Kate could deem the decisions that led her to them as nothing short of absolutely terrible.
After all, nothing good, decent, or even tolerable could come of accepting an invitation to the house of the man with whom one’s younger sister had recently ended an engagement, let alone multiple ones. Nor indeed from letting slip through one’s fingers an opportunity to cease such an ostensibly awkward and unpleasant connection as the one Kate shared with the viscount. The man had absented himself from town for the last several weeks. A wiser person would not have squandered such a perfect opportunity for a clean break (or perhaps would not have even associated with a person who inspired so much irritation in the first place.)
But Kate was apparently a glutton for terrible ideas, the latest and most egregious of which was being present at Lord Bridgerton's home upon Lord Bridgerton’s long awaited (by others, of course) return.
The tastefully decorated drawing room of said home may as well have been a cold and wretched prison cell as Kate lamented her poor decision-making that led her to this sorry state of affairs. That and the fact that the terrible ideas she had that led up to the present Terrible Idea had not seemed so terrible at the time she was making them.
Indeed, recent days had seen Kate in generally high spirits. When she first learned that Lord Bridgerton had been called away back to Kent (a fire had broken out on his lands and caused extensive damage to a few of his properties), Kate had been relieved. Elated even. Not because of the disaster that occurred, of course, but for the unexpected respite she had been granted from the vexing man's presence.
(Naturally, relief and elation were the extent of her feelings regarding the matter. She certainly was not concerned about him or the possible dangers he faced during the acute stages of the disaster. Neither was she troubling herself about his health and well-being, wondering if he was getting adequate rest during such an undoubtedly strenuous time. Of course, she was not having such thoughts. To do so would be a terrible idea, after all.)
Kate's relief and general contentment had only grown all the more when it became apparent that the viscount’s prolonged absence had dulled the luster he once held in her sister’s eyes. Indeed, with each day that passed, Edwina seemed less and less enthused with the planning of their nuptials, her usual giddiness and excitement toward the subject giving way to increasingly frequent and contemplative silences.
It came to a head when nearly two weeks after her fiance’s departure, the young woman approached her older sister just as she was about to go to bed looking downright troubled.
“Bon, what is it?” Kate had demanded, all traces of the tiredness she had been feeling from the long day of errands and social calls (and not wondering about the goings-on of a certain country estate) completely forgotten.
“I-” Edwina began, wringing her hands together and eyes trained on the floor.
“You can tell me anything, bon,” Kate reassured her, taking her two hands in her own and doing her best to keep the panic out of her voice. She had spent the better part of a decade doing everything in her power to prevent her sister from ever looking so anxious. To see her looking so now caused Kate no small amount of distress.
“Please, just tell me what troubles you and we shall find a solution together.”
“I suppose… it is only… the wedding…”
“The wedding? Was it one of the selections that was made today? I am sure we can-”
“No, it is nothing like that. I mean, that is to say… All the selections have been lovely. Marvelous, really. The dress, the flowers, the church. Did you know Her Majesty has commissioned fireworks for the occasion? I believe she might have mentioned something about peacocks as well, though I hardly know anymore…” She sighed. “This wedding… It is… it is more than I could have ever dreamed of. Far more… The marriage , however…”
Here the girl moved away to stand before the window, gazing out into the darkness outside. Kate followed, watching her uncertainly.
“There were times when Appa had to leave us, right? For his work? In truth, I hardly remember now.”
“Not very often,” Kate supplied, unsure what to make of the odd turn in the conversation. “But yes, there were several occasions when Appa was obliged to travel with the maharajah while we remained at the palace.”
“And he would send us notes while he was away? I think I recall you and I eagerly waiting for the post to arrive and then us racing to give it to Mama so she could read it aloud to us.”
“That’s right.” The first tendrils of understanding began to dawn on her. “I take it the viscount has not written you since returning to Kent,” she ventured carefully.
“Not a word.”
Edwina turned toward her sister once again, an impassive look on her face. “Not even that he was going. His mother was the one to tell us that.”
Kate swallowed, herself having been present as well when the dowager viscountess delivered the news of her son’s sudden departure.
“Well… it is not as if he left on holiday. Lord Bridgerton is a prominent landowner and there was a fire on his lands. Any decent man would travel himself to the site to aid in the ordeal and be the one to direct the plans for rehabilitation afterwards. His tenants surely are looking to him for guidance and reassurance during this uncertain time and I do not doubt the viscount’s schedule has been extremely taxing these days.”
“I know that. Truly, I do. And I would never begrudge the man his duty at all. In fact, I commend him for the obvious care with which he carries it out… And yet, I also know that the fire has been extinguished for several days now, temporary housing arranged for the affected tenants, and plans for rebuilding the damaged properties are well underway. Do you know how I know this, didi?”
Not waiting for an answer, Edwina began pacing back and forth.
“I pieced this together from news I have gathered from his mother and passing conversations I have had with his siblings, when one of them slows down enough to actually speak to me, that is. And considering the contents of her latest sheet, it appears even Lady Whistledown is more apprised of the affairs of the man who is to be my husband than I am. Now I have no desire to be an unreasonably demanding wife, constantly nagging her husband to report his every move to her, but I would at least like him to-”
Here Edwina cut herself off to take a calming breath before continuing in a more measured tone.
“I cannot help but think that Lord Bridgerton has not spared me a single thought since he went away. Given that his business is not wholly unknown to others, he must be in communication with at least one person here in London, if not several… and not one of them is me.”
Kate opened and closed her mouth several times, truly at a loss for words as a multitude of emotions rushed over her.
At the forefront was anger. Pure fury at the man who pursued her sister so vehemently and against her wishes only to leave the sweetest girl she knew feeling so neglected mere days into their engagement.
Then there was the heartbreak she felt on Edwina's behalf as she tasted disappointment for the first time, worry about the lasting effects this could have on the girl… and guilt. The deepest, heaviest guilt for just how thrilled she was that at long last her sister was grasping what she had been trying to tell her all along.
“And do you know what the most frustrating thing is? I cannot even be angry at him. He told me himself that this would happen.”
“What? He told -?”
“Not that he would be abruptly leaving town and seemingly forget all about me, no. But what he did inform me of is that his responsibilities would keep him moving around quite often, that there would be stretches of time when he would be away from his wife and family. He told me that he could not offer me the display of passion that I deserved. He spoke of action and duty. He spoke of our shared roles in society, but never of…”
Edwina stopped her pacing to stand before her sister, but not quite able to meet her eyes.
“I think I finally understand what you have been telling me from the start.”
Taking a deep breath, she hesitantly met her sister's searching gaze, embarrassment coloring her delicate features.
“Lord Bridgerton does not love me.”
Kate let out a breath she was not aware she had been holding.
“Bon, I… I am so sorry.”
“It is I who should be sorry. Oh, I am so mortified! He could not have been more plain with me about his expectations, and neither could you. I should have listened to you. You told me from the start! You said-”
“Edwina, listen to me,” Kate cut through her sister's increasingly hysterical rambling, grasping her firmly by the shoulders. “This is not your failing. You are all that is good and pure in a world that is too often cruel and unfair. It is a testament to your sweetness of character that you could not comprehend how selfish and disappointing others could be.”
“Or simply a testament to how naive I have been. But, oh didi, what are we going to do? It would be heartless to end an engagement while the man already has a catastrophe on his hands.”
“Well, as you have discovered, things are perhaps not quite so catastrophic for the viscount. Besides I think the greater unkindness would be to allow the man to continue thinking there will be a wedding when there will not. But do not fret, bon. We shall speak to Mama and Lady Danbury and plot our next course. This is not the first time such a thing would happen nor indeed will it be the last. All will be well, you'll see.”
And so the two young ladies approached the matriarchs of the house and a plan was devised. A meticulously crafted letter was sent off to Kent and a stubborn Queen assuaged while they all waited for a response. Calls were exchanged, promenades taken, appearances maintained and scarcely a day passed since sending her letter that Edwina at last received word from her fiance, a title that was relinquished within the first two sentences of the answering missive.
Kate had watched with bated breath, along with her mama and Lady Danbury, as Edwina's eyes darted across the page. Before long, the two sisters’ gazes met, relief unmistakable in both.
Thus, the engagement between Miss Edwina Sharma and Viscount Bridgerton was ended. And so, too, any and all connection between the two families.
At least, that was the expectation. The Bridgertons, it seemed, had a tendency to defy those.
Indeed, after dealing with the bustling hive of suitors that the drawing room at Danbury House had become once again as word got out that the diamond was unattached once more, Kate would frequently find herself in the drawing room of another prominent home in Mayfair.
First it was Miss Bridgerton wishing to discuss a book with her, then Miss Hyacinth absolutely needing her opinion on some new ribbons she had acquired. Later, Mr. Colin wanted to know each and every place one must visit when traveling to India, though curiously he had no plans on making such a journey any time soon. Another day it was Mr. Benedict insistent on continuing a conversation they had started during an earlier visit to the National Gallery. Then young Mr. Gregory begged assistance with his Latin, the Duchess of Hastings needed conversation from someone who was not one of her siblings or a stuffy member of the ton, and then even quiet Miss Francesca requested to hear all about the music of her home.
Before she knew what was happening, Kate was a regular visitor at Bridgerton House, so much so that formalities had largely been done away with. Indeed, she no longer bothered to bow when she arrived anymore given how quickly one of those annoyingly charming little meddlers would snatch her arm and pull her to sit with them.
And slowly but surely, every single one of those annoyingly charming little meddlers wormed their way into her heart (an outcome she had been trying so desperately to avoid.)
Therefore when the family was suddenly embroiled in scandal, the thought of shunning the Bridgertons as the rest of the ton seemed determined to do never once crossed Kate’s mind. In fact, the only reason she had not marched over to their home to lend her support the moment she read what Lady Whistledown had written about Miss Eloise was due to the lateness of the hour. Besides, the look that Lady Danbury sent her way, which almost seemed to dare her to see what would happen if she brought scandal upon her own home, was enough to keep her still.
The dowager, however, was not wholly dismissive of her resolve not to abandon their friends and had informed Kate that she would be sending her to the Bridgerton home in a carriage, though at a respectable hour and only after they had concluded their previously arranged plans for the next day.
Thus was Kate forced to spend the rest of the night tossing and turning in bed, then the next morning tapping her foot impatiently at the seemingly endless parade of suitors still vying for her sister's hand. (Rather fruitlessly as none really stood a chance against the handsome and romantic prince who had clearly stolen the lady’s heart at one of his aunt's luncheons.) She later huffed her way through a promenade at the park, stewing in contempt at the snide comments she kept hearing around her, before at long last Lady Danbury took pity on her (or more likely, could tolerate her behavior no longer) and sent her to check on their friends.
Now initially, she was only very glad to have paid the visit. Though Lady Bridgerton seemed to be of the mind to pretend that nothing was awry, the way she had embraced Kate so tightly upon her arrival, holding her a trifle longer than was necessary, revealed just how relieved she must have been to see a friendly face.
The others, too, appeared equally glad to see her. The two youngest of the lot had been especially chatty with her (even more so than usual, which was a feat she had honestly not thought possible) leaving Kate to wonder how many times they had been told to be quiet that day.
Colin seemed to be handling his distress by consuming everything in sight, Francesca by hiding away. Even the ever carefree Benedict did not seem unaffected by the news. Despite his pencil being held at the ready for some time now, the open page of his sketchbook continued to remain blank.
And, of course, Eloise was hardly expected to be herself either. The young woman tried to appear unbothered, supplying a few sarcastic comments to her sibling’s conversation here and there, a book in hand as was her custom, and yet far more frequently was she staring ahead in silence, her book forgotten on her lap. She had sat herself next to Kate, leaning her weight against her a bit. Kate could not help but feel honored that the usually headstrong woman allowed her a glimpse of the young, sensitive girl she seemed determined to pretend did not exist.
Yes, Kate had been feeling extremely gratified with her visit, happy that her presence could be of at least some comfort to those who have been so kind and have become so dear to her. Despite her knowing that her support meant very little in the eyes of society, she was determined to stand by the family’s side. For even if she had not grown close to the Bridgertons as she had done, Kate had resolved early on in life never to be as unforgiving as far too many in the ton were wont to be. Her loyalty may not be easily won, but so too was it not so easily cast aside.
Any and all thoughts of loyalty and friendship toward the family nearly took their leave of her, however, upon learning of the head of said family’s reportedly imminent return. In fact, when Hyacinth mentioned her eldest brother’s arrival, which was apparently expected at any moment, Kate had shot directly to her feet, startling every person in the room, and began making her excuses.
Excuses that were readily (and very loudly) protested.
“Oh, dearest, you have only just arrived!”
“But I have not told you about the cat I discovered in the garden the other morning!”
“And you must see the progress I have made in my Latin! I think I am finally getting the hang of these verb conjugations.”
“I have yet to see you eat any cakes! They are especially delicious today. You must wait here while I have Mrs. Wilson bring us some more.”
“Please, Miss Sharma,” Benedict added, a bit more staid in his entreaty than the rest of his family, though evidently no less desperate. “Please do not leave us in the misery that is each other’s company at present.”
Kate cast her eyes about the room, at all the nearly identical pleading looks directed her way, before eventually allowing herself to be pulled down to her original seat by an insistent tugging at her side.
“Anthony is less likely to flay me alive if there are witnesses present beyond our own family.”
Though her words might have been intended to be taken in jest, Kate had a strong feeling that Eloise had only spoken with the utmost seriousness. Her young friend then looped an arm through hers, keeping her in place as securely as the most restrictive lock and chain.
And so, Kate was obliged to remain where she was, half-listening to the multitude of conversations going on around her, lamenting her lack of self-will when it came to these pesky Bridgertons, and jumping slightly at any noise that came from the foyer, fearful that it was arrival of the man of the house.
For indeed, how must it look for the viscount to see her there? Surely the last person he would want to see as he returned to deal with the latest calamity to befall his family would be the prickly spinster who had done nothing but question his character and nag her diamond of a sister until she eventually threw him off. To see her in his home after everything that had passed between them, to see how brazenly she had ingratiated herself among his family members in his absence, would no doubt cause the man to think her the most despicable hypocrite. Or worse yet, a devious schemer, hunting connections and fortunes without scruple for her own selfish ends.
Kate grew nauseous as she began picturing the horrible ways Lord Bridgerton might throw her out. Perhaps he might yell for one of the servants to remove her from his sight and angrily berate his family for allowing such a shameless interloper into their home. Or perhaps he would not say a word at all. Perhaps he would simply take one glance at her and seize her by the arm to put her out on the street himself. She could even imagine the final look of contempt he might send her way before he slammed the door in her face.
Completely lost to the world of her own fancies, Kate ended up being a bit distracted when the man actually did arrive home. In fact, as Lord Bridgerton rather innocently greeted his mother and siblings, hugging his youngest sister and clapping each of his brothers on the back, she had been in the midst of a heated debate with herself over whether she should be more mortified or outraged at how his imagined counterpart had treated her. An intense battle that quieted the instant her eyes locked with those of the real Anthony Bridgerton.
There was something different about him, something Kate initially could not put her finger on as she stood to offer him a curtsy. He certainly looked more tired than she had ever seen him, dusty and disheveled in a way that greatly contrasted with his usual neat and orderly style. And yet, the unkemptness of his appearance did not seem so out of place given his long day of travel and, after a rather memorable tumble in the mud, she had definitely seen him in a worse state of disarray.
No, what seemed so out of place was the lightness about him. Indeed, instead of looking like a man bogged down by a sudden onslaught of difficulties as would be expected, Lord Bridgerton appeared perfectly at ease and (much to Kate’s astonishment) even pleased to see her.
“Miss Sharma!” he exclaimed, unmistakably and inexplicably delighted, a far cry from the oft grumpy man she knew and the bitter and resentful version of him she had conjured up in her head. “I am surprised to see you here.”
“Lord Bridgerton, I- I only wished to show my support to your family after hearing… the news.” Kate found it difficult to look at him and so had been more or less speaking to his shoulder. She cringed at her own timidity but could not bring herself to do otherwise.
“Thank you.”
Kate’s eyes flicked toward his.
“After recent events, it is a comfort to know that our family still has kind and loyal friends, especially one who is as sensible and discerning as yourself.”
Unsure what to make of this unexpected compliment, Kate chose to venture toward more familiar territory.
“So you admit that I have sense now?”
She heard a few snickers around her, but was too preoccupied by the feeling that took root in her stomach at the sight of Lord Bridgerton’s answering grin. It was warm. Pleasant…
And dangerous. So, so dangerous, and it only continued to grow more so as he continued speaking.
“Oh, I have always acknowledged your sense, Miss Sharma. In fact, I believe it was your sense and my lack of it that was the cause of most of our past disagreements. And after reading the letters I had received from my siblings over the last few weeks, I had hoped that they might have benefited from their recent proximity to it, but alas…”
He trailed off to peer at the figure hiding behind Kate’s back.
“Eloise, I believe you and I are due for a conversation in my study.”
There was a loud sigh followed by a miserable reply.
“Yes, brother.”
“I should go,” Kate muttered to her as the girl reluctantly stepped out from behind her. Eloise promptly stopped in her tracks to seize her arm once more.
“No! You cannot leave!”
“This is a family matter and your family are all here now. I’d only be in the way,” she tried to explain gently. The younger woman only shot her brother a not-so subtle look before staring at her pointedly. Kate sighed.
“Eloise, you ought to give your brother more credit. I am sure he is aware that flaying you alive would only cause him more trouble in the end.”
“By all means stay, Miss Sharma,” the viscount interjected when Eloise remained looking unconvinced. “It appears that you are of some comfort to my sister, and while I do indeed have no intention of, as you say, flaying her alive, I daresay sources of comfort are not things she will wish to be found wanting for herself in coming days.”
There was a quiet whimper at her side, but Kate was once again too distracted to immediately offer her friend comfort. Distracted and utterly confused.
By all rights, Lord Bridgerton should be furious. He should be lashing out and yelling, going on a rampage, cursing the heavens and the earth (or at least, most everyone in that room) for his recent bout of misfortunes. She knew the volatility that dwelt within him, the temper that hid behind the manners that were instilled in him from birth. She knew the tightness in his jaw, the tick that developed in his neck, the furrow in his brow that appeared when things were not going his way. And how many times had she seen him stomp away from a situation he did not like, whether it was after a losing performance at pall mall or from a conversation on a dance floor that he did not wish to hear?
She had once even witnessed the man in the privacy of his study, pacing like a caged animal, hands tightly gripping his desk and his eyes darting about the room in desperate search of something, anything that might help him hold on to the facade of the calm and collected gentleman he insisted he was.
Indeed, Kate had long come to discover the volcanic amount of emotion that resided inside the man, an inferno that threatened to bubble over on occasion, but with a substantial amount of effort on his part, had always been largely contained. She had to wonder, though, how much longer he would be able to continue doing it. (A question she may or may not have had to ask herself as well over the years.)
For surely, it was all bound to come exploding out at some point, a limit reached before the ripple became a tidal wave, the candle a fiery blaze. And after the hellish last few weeks the man just had, the most logical time for such a thing to happen would surely be now.
And yet, Lord Bridgerton was the picture of serenity and composure, and from what she could discern, there was no artifice about it either. His posture was straight and tall, but not rigid. His hands were clasped behind his back, but not sternly so. His expression was open and mannerly, no storminess lurked behind his eyes. In fact, there was a glint there that gave her pause. It was almost teasing, playful even… a challenge.
Utterly confused or no, Kate was never one to back down from one of those. Lifting her chin up slightly, she turned to the anxious woman at her side.
“I shall be here when you two are finished speaking,” she promised, patting her reassuringly on the arm before glancing back at the man who had been watching them intently. She thought she glimpsed a satisfied looking grin, but the viscount was turning to lead his sister from the room before she could be entirely sure.
The moment the siblings disappeared into the hall, Kate rather indecorously flopped herself back onto the settee, absentmindedly grabbing a cake from the plate Colin was offering to her from where he had taken his sister’s place beside her. Her thoughts were racing as she chewed, her mind struggling to make sense of the previous encounter.
Quickly growing frustrated at not finding any immediate clarity, Kate turned her attention to the others in the room, whereupon she discovered that while she had been thoroughly unsettled by the viscount’s arrival, it appeared to have only brought relief to everyone else.
Gregory and Hyacinth had started up a round of marbles in the corner, the two having gone completely silent as they focused all their energy into defeating the other. Benedict’s pencil was flying across the page while Colin had abandoned his cakes to read the newspaper.
The only one who continued to appear at all distressed was the dowager, who had begun pacing back and forth and casting uneasy looks at the doorway through which her two children had just disappeared. After a particularly deep sigh, Lady Bridgerton turned to begin another round of pacing when her eyes caught on Kate’s.
The older woman plastered on a smile as she approached.
“Tell me, Miss Sharma. Have I ever given you a tour of the paintings in our home? There are a few hidden in the hallways that hardly anyone gets to see… In fact, there is one just outside the study that I think is well worth looking at.”
Kate raised her brows. “The study?”
Seeming to realize that her scheme had been found out, Lady Bridgerton sat down next to her, looping an arm through hers and leaning in to whisper to her conspiratorially.
“Are you not the least bit curious about what is going on?”
Kate wished she had not taken so much pleasure at the ease and familiarity with which this great lady was treating her, and yet she could not help it. Before she could stop herself, she leaned in to whisper conspiratorially back.
“Would we even be able to hear anything from the hallway?”
“That is what worries me,” the dowager fretted, at a normal volume now, sending another troubled look at the doorway. “It is far too quiet, and in this household, silence is far more dangerous than noise.”
Chuckling slightly at Benedict’s “Hear! Hear!” Kate allowed herself to be pulled up out of her seat and out of the room, and to Lady Bridgerton’s credit, she did point out a few paintings as they walked along. They had come to a stop at a rather boring one of a landscape just outside the viscount’s study before she abandoned the pretense altogether and had her ear pressed against the door. Kate hung back, shaking her head in amusement, even as she leaned forward to try to make out what was going on behind the closed door herself.
After a few moments of hearing only indistinct murmuring, Kate left the matriarch to her snooping and wandered back toward the entrance of the dark hallway they had entered. Coming out into the more open space near the foot of the grand staircase, Kate took a moment to admire the splendor, for she had not spent much time in this part of the house before.
Looking up, she took in the impressive height of the ceilings, the intricate detail of the moldings and panelings on the walls when her eyes caught on the large painting on the one opposite her. A smile pulled at her lips as she took a few steps up the stairs to get a closer look at the portrait of the three oldest Bridgerton daughters. This was not the first time she had seen it as she climbed those stairs near every day to visit in their drawing room, but it was the first time she was able to study it at length.
The family must have paid the artist handsomely for not only were the likenesses extremely accurate, but the spirit of each girl, too, was captured exceedingly well. It even unnerved Kate a bit, for she was unused to seeing the usually lively set be so still.
Kate enjoyed the visages of her beautiful friends for a few moments longer before she drew in a deep breath and slowly turned toward the wall behind her, where the artist’s skill was once again on display in the accompanying portrait of the first three Bridgerton sons. Naturally, Kate’s eye lingered longest on the one on the right.
The man in that painting was quite familiar to her: handsome and dignified, yet also pompous, stiff, and almost uncomfortable looking. Indeed, she wondered why Lord Bridgeron chose such an awkward stance in which to pose. Kate had never sat for a portrait herself (she barely had the patience to sit long enough for Edwina to make a quick sketch of her), but she had seen it done many times at the palace she used to live in. It had always seemed like a rather tedious affair to her and she could only imagine how even more tiresome it would be to have to do it while standing the way the viscount was in his portrait.
She supposed he had only wanted his likeness to appear to be a man of action, hat in hand, legs crossed and weight leaning on a walking stick as if he were only taking a brief pause on a spirited jaunt before setting off again. And yet, obviously there was nothing brief about it as he would have had to maintain that position for at least an hour or two and likely across multiple sessions. It was an amusing and yet sad contradiction, entirely emblematic of the man, for only Anthony Bridgerton needed to put forth so much effort to appear the least bit at ease.
Indeed, for nearly the entirety of their acquaintance, the Lord Bridgerton in that portrait was the only version she knew: a perpetually uptight man with an unfortunate habit of making things unnecessarily difficult for himself or others. Kate then looked down toward the hallway to where the almost stranger she had met that afternoon had disappeared into his study. Not for the first time in that quarter of an hour alone, she wondered if she had been entirely wrong about him or if he really had changed that much since they last saw each other.
She suspected that it was both.
She studied the painting for a few moments more before suddenly shaking herself, as if just remembering where she was. Lifting her skirts, she proceeded to race down the stairs to rejoin her hostess. It was one thing to be caught as an invited guest in his drawing room. It would be another thing entirely to be found wandering around his house unattended.
Thankfully, neither the viscount nor his sister had yet to emerge. His mother, too, did not seem to notice her absence and so Kate stationed herself beside that uninspired landscape before anyone could accuse her of being an impertinent guest. She was in the midst of making up her own history of the piece as Lady Bridgerton was otherwise too occupied to share the real one with her, when the lady was suddenly scrambling back from the door just before it swung open.
Eloise, for her part, was too engrossed with her own thoughts to spare her eavesdropping mother more than a fleeting glance. Kate watched curiously as the pensive look on her face morphed into one of determination before she was turning around again to call through the doorway.
“Brother?”
The man then appeared and when she noted his lack of coat and the rolled up state of his shirtsleeves, Kate promptly turned back toward the boring landscape on the wall, deciding at that very moment to become the most dedicated scholar of its composition. She even tried to imagine which ancient Bridgerton might have created it and why he or she chose such a dreary day to depict, anything to distract herself from the far more interesting scene unfolding beside her.
Unsurprisingly, her efforts proved futile.
Now Kate’s time with the Bridgertons had long since disabused her of the notion that families of the ton were all cold and unfeeling. Indeed, many times had she seen them embrace each other warmly, walk arm in arm intimately, or press kisses to each other’s cheeks. And though she was far more often witnessing them shoving each other, smacking each other, even throwing things at each other, it was clear that physical affection was no stranger among them.
That was not to say, however, that it was equally displayed between all members of the family.
Therefore, Kate knew what a momentous occasion it was for the most defiant and rebellious of the lot to step up and willingly throw her arms around the most rule-abiding and traditional. The look of shock on the latter’s face and the loud gasp coming from their mother indicated that she was not the only one.
“Thank you,” Eloise expressed, quiet and sincere, hugging her brother tighter. Kate was a bit terrified of analyzing too deeply the emotion that welled up inside her at the sight, especially when she saw how the viscount’s face softened as he returned his sister’s embrace.
When the two siblings released each other, Kate was sure that there was not a single eye in that hallway that was not a bit misty. Eloise cleared her throat loudly before speaking again, clearly trying to adopt her usual tone of nonchalance, though it was but a shadow of what it usually was.
“Looks like I have some work to do.”
“Indeed, it does. But if you should like any help, now you know that I am always here.”
The young woman shot him another grateful smile before ducking her head and running off, apparently in too much of a hurry to acknowledge her friend with more than an embarrassed look.
“So… I take it your conversation went well then?” Lady Bridgerton ventured as her daughter scurried away.
“I suppose it has.” He stared after his sister for a moment before shaking himself slightly and turning to her. “Mother, has tea service been taken away yet? I find that I am quite starved.”
“I do not think so, dearest. But Mrs. Wilson can always bring you something from the kitchens… that is if Colin has not completely cleared out our stores yet.”
And so the three made their way back up the stairs to the drawing room, the viscount smiling at and making idle chatter with Kate as if he’d done it a million times before. And if he was at all curious or upset about her presence just outside his office door, he made no mention about it.
“I trust your family is in good health, Miss Sharma,” he had inquired as they walked.
“They are, my lord. Thank you.”
“That is wonderful news. I hear that your sister has even caught the eye of a prince.”
Kate came to an abrupt halt mid step on the stairs, causing Lady Bridgerton who had been trailing behind her to run into her. Kate did not heed the collision, though, for she was too busy looking at the man who had also come to stop next to her, studying him intently, trying to detect any bitterness or regret in his countenance at the mention of his once betrothed.
He only looked back at her with a concerned expression when she had stopped walking and then with curiosity at her subsequent inspection of him.
“Miss Sharma?”
She blinked a few times at him before continuing up the steps again.
“Pardon me, my lord, my lady,” -she bowed her head slightly to each person- “Erm… My sister has been spending much time with the Prince of Prussia and they do indeed seem to be enjoying each other’s company.”
“And do you like him?”
“I think only a fool would admit to not liking a favorite nephew of the queen, but he does appear genuinely kind and intelligent. And at any rate, he makes my sister happy, and that is all that matters to me.”
“Then I am happy for them and for you,” he declared as they reached the doorway to the drawing room, gesturing for her to enter first. Kate quietly took a seat, continuing to observe him suspiciously as he poured himself some tea, searching for anything in his manner that might contradict his gracious words. Unable to do so, she settled for watching in amusement as his siblings swarmed him like bees to honey.
“So?” Benedict asked after the man blatantly ignored them all while he fixed his plate.
“So what, Benedict?” he responded tiredly.
“ So… will we survive?”
“Why? Has someone been shot?” he queried, shocking everyone in the room, even as he casually gave his tea a stir.
“Anthony!” Lady Bridgerton admonished, but the man only continued.
“Has someone taken a fall from a great height? Or fallen ill and has been confined to bed with a deadly fever?”
“Of course not, Anthony! How could you say such ghastly things?”
“Then, I daresay we will survive,” he concluded, at last looking up to acknowledge them all. He gave each of them a pointed look before gathering his food and taking a seat in a nearby armchair.
“Who are you and what have you done to our brother?”
“Well, he has spent the last few weeks away from the ton, among those who have literally lost everything they have and still find reason to smile. He has also since come to the realization of how absurd it is to have to play nice with spoiled, entitled people who are all too likely rejoicing in our current misfortunes.”
There was something particularly biting in his speech, apparently so biting that it caused his mother to burst into tears.
“Mother-”
“Oh, it is nothing. Nothing,” she spoke, waving off their concern though accepting the handkerchief Colin held out to her. “It is only” -she dabbed her eyes a few times- “you sounded so much like your father just then.”
Anthony frowned.
“Father loved the ton. And going to balls and dinner parties and soirees… He always said it was the mark of a gentleman to be sociable.”
“He may or may not have said that to you under my direction. In truth, if he had it his way, your father would have spent every evening at home.” It was only when the dowager managed to collect herself fully that she realized her mistake, for it was only when she had that she noted her two eldest children staring at her incredulously.
“Boys-” she began placatingly, but was immediately cut off.
“I feel lied to.”
“Manipulated.”
“Deceived.”
“Swindled. Absolutely swindled!”
The two men exchanged affronted looks before staring at their mother accusingly once again.
“ Children , your father knew the importance of getting along with our neighbors and hence of passing along that lesson to you. And given that you have three younger sisters who may yet wish to marry one of them, a mother who does enjoy going out, and not to mention the fact that we have nearly gone mad with but a single day with only each other as company, we do indeed need to play nice with the ton.” She fixed them with a stern glare until they relented.
“Right you are, Mother, as usual,” the older of the two eventually conceded. “But Eloise was always unlikely to make a match this season and by the time Francesca debuts next year and heaven help us, Hyacinth when the time comes, surely the ton will be wrapped up in whatever salacious scandal is bound to be holding them in raptures then. And in the event that they are unable or unwilling to find a suitable match, I am more than capable of providing for my sisters for as long as they need. Besides, I should not like to part with them to anyone who could be so swayed by the scribblings of a bitter and anonymous gossip writer… This may very well be a blessing in disguise, Mother, for there is nothing like one’s fall from grace that draws out one’s true friends.”
The viscount ended his speech by looking directly at Kate, eyes full of meaning and not for the first time during their acquaintance, she found herself growing flustered under his gaze. Taking a sip of lukewarm tea, she held the cup to her mouth for a few moments longer despite none of its contents actually passing her lips. She only hoped the action might help conceal the furious blush that developed in her cheeks.
Never had she been more thankful that the family was an energetic and talkative bunch as at that moment when another topic of conversation was started up seamlessly. She would be hard pressed to say what it was about or even who was speaking. All she knew was that she had a few moments to regain her wits while everyone’s attention was elsewhere.
At least, almost everyone.
When at last she gathered the courage to look at something other than the unappetizing contents of her tea cup, she could not say that she was surprised to see that the viscount’s gaze was still fixed upon her, even as his body was angled toward his youngest sister who had been talking animatedly about something or other.
A smile pulled at his lips when their eyes met. It was a minute thing, barely even there, and honestly, Kate was not even sure if it was real as he had turned to give Hyacinth his full attention shortly after. The small gesture, nevertheless, managed to settle her racing mind and heart.
The rest of the afternoon was passed pleasantly enough. In fact, Kate could not recall laughing so much, for even in the height of her dislike for the man, she had always enjoyed watching him interact with his siblings. When he was with them, the viscount was always a bit less proper and usually a lot more ridiculous.
He had joined in on his youngest sibling's game of marbles (the last piece of cake on the line as the prize) and was in the midst of lining up his next shot, lying nearly completely flat on his stomach on the floor as he took aim, when they were interrupted by a knock at the door. He let his forehead fall to the ground with a thud before looking up to acknowledge his steward.
“Pardon me, my lord. But there is an urgent matter that needs your attention.”
“Of course there is,” he grumbled as he rolled over onto his back, heaving a loud sigh toward the ceiling before getting up and dusting himself off. “Your spoils,” he said to Gregory, relinquishing his plate with a flourish to the victorious boy, before striding from the room. Kate tried not to be too bothered that he did so without so much as a glance toward herself.
She failed.
Before she could get too lost in agonizing over the odd behavior of one Anthony Bridgerton yet again, a footman appeared at the door announcing that the carriage was waiting outside to bring her home. Kate glanced at the clock and was shocked to see the late hour. She would need to make haste in order to have time to change before dinner.
Quickly waving off Lady Bridgerton’s move to get up from where she had been lounging comfortably in her chair to accompany her to the door, Kate reassured her that she knew the way, said her goodbyes, and hurried out. The footman was just about to open the front door for her when she was stopped in her tracks by a familiar voice calling her name.
Turning around, she saw the viscount walking briskly toward her, his hands kept strangely behind his back.
“Yes, my lord?”
“Are you leaving?”
Kate threw a sidelong glance at the door before shooting him a sardonic look.
“Right, silly question,” he admitted before addressing the footman. “Thank you, John. I will see Miss Sharma out.”
Kate watched as the man disappeared into one of the hallways before turning back toward the one that remained, who was looking uncharacteristically unsure of himself before he spoke.
“I wanted to thank you again, Miss Sharma, for the kindness you have shown our family. I know it would be far easier for you to scorn us as the rest of the ton have and given our… history, no one would blame you if you had.”
Kate could not help but take some satisfaction out of his obvious discomfort.
“Well, my near constant irritation toward you aside, I’ve always liked your family.”
She grew immediately concerned when instead of answering her barb with a witty response of his own, he began fidgeting even more nervously.
“My lord, I was only speaking in jest. I did not mean to offend-”
“No, no, no… I am not offended! It was a very funny joke. Very funny, indeed.”
Kate frowned at the man’s jitteriness, his rocking back and forth on his feet, the way he seemed hesitant to meet her eyes when he had done it so easily within that same hour.
“Is something the matter?”
“Of course not,” was his only reply before they lapsed into a strained silence. Kate then began to quickly lose patience at the man’s continued strange behavior. He was now looking down at his boots and drawing in long, deliberate breaths, his hands remaining almost rigidly behind his back.
“Was there something else, my lord?” she pressed.
Seeming to understand that the irritation she had joked about earlier had a very real basis in fact in that moment, he straightened up and met her expectant gaze. It appeared, however, that he could not as quickly form very many words.
“It is… I was only…”
“Yes?”
He drew in one final breath and sent a glance heavenwards before moving his hands from behind his back, revealing what he had been keeping there.
“I just wanted to give you this.”
Kate blinked a few times at the item in his hands. It looked like a stack of letters. A very sizable stack of letters. She estimated there must have been at least a dozen of them, possibly more, all stacked neatly and tied together with a string.
“I apologize for my earlier dallying, I was merely unsure of whether or not I should be doing this. But I am resolved now. Quite resolved… You see, Miss Sharma, I have thought of you. Every day, in fact, since I was obliged to return to Kent. There was always something I wanted to show you or a tenant I wanted to tell you about or a story I wanted to share with you… and so I did, at least through the only means available to me at the time.”
He turned the stack over in his hands.
“Now, I had no intention of ever sending these to you as I knew I had absolutely no right to and I am perfectly cognizant of that fact that I still don’t. But as I have since discovered the amazing things that can grow from the ashes of something as devastating as a fire, I thought to myself, if things are already burning in my life, I may as well make sure things are completely laid bare before trying to start anew.”
With that, he held the letters out to her.
“You can tear these up, if you wish. Or toss them into the nearest fire. Or I suppose, you can simply refuse to take them… But these are technically yours, and therefore yours to deal with as you choose.”
Kate’s eyes darted from his to the letters in his hands, a million thoughts and emotions whirling about within her.
It would be ridiculous for her to accept these letters. Ruinous. Scandalous. Selfish. A colossal mistake. This man irritated her so. His mood swings in that afternoon alone were impossible to keep up with. He was pompous, overly competitive, and far too serious at times. Not to mention, he once dropped down to one knee and proposed to her sister right in front of her.
Her entire relationship with this man was already riddled with things she should not have done. For one, she should not have been out riding alone that fateful morning when she met him in those woods or later followed him out onto that balcony at the conservatory ball. She should not have joined him on that hunt or stolen into his father’s library that one stormy night. She should not have pushed him after he stalked away from their dance, should not have thought about him so much when he was gone, should not have allowed him to knock her entire world so off axis.
And now, as he stood there looking at her with his earnest, soulful brown eyes, Kate knew she absolutely should not accept those letters. To do so would be a terrible idea.
Naturally, she reached out and took them anyway.
(It was a few weeks later, as she lay abed, snuggled into the loving arms of her new husband that Kate decided that maybe it was not such a terrible idea after all.)