A/N: So, dear readers. It seems as though inspiration has struck! Here is the next installment! As per - I only own Iris and her interactions with the characters!

Iris draped on the champagne coloured chaise, watching as Lady Bridgerton and Daphne got ready for the party they were to attend that evening.

Daphne, looking resplendent in a peach gown, encrusted with sparkling beads. Was debating with her mother on which jewels to wear.

Iris had feigned feeling too unwell, but in reality, she had tried on her powder blue, capped-sleeve gown, only to balk in horror at her reflection, showing a clear, dark, handprint on her upper arm.

I cannot let Anthony see the mark Lord Berbooke has left upon me! She had panicked, imagining with horror that Anthony would surely call out Lord Berbrooke over laying a hand on her, and she couldn't bear the though of Anthony being injured, or worse, and so, she changed back into her day dress, and feigned a headache. She had gladly offered for Benedict and Colin to attend while she stayed at home with Hyacinth and Gregory.

Quietly she stood, offered a quiet good evening to the ladies and wandered downstairs. She found Anthony in his study, and gently knocked the door.

"Do you mind if I peruse your bookshelf, before you leave this evening, Lord Bridgerton?" she asked politely. Anthony stood immediately, taking in Iris's green day dress and cocked his head. "Are you not attending the ball with us this evening, Iris?" he enquired gently, moving towards her.

Iris smiled demurely and shook her head. "I am not," she replied, glancing up into his serious face. She could feel the concern for her, radiating from him as he approached her, and she took comfort from his nearness. "Are you unwell?" he asked, his hand reaching out to right the lavender shawl about to slip from her shoulder. Iris's breath hitched at the contact, and a pretty rose hue rose along the column of her throat and flooded her cheeks. Smiling shyly she nodded her head, "I will be sitting with Hyacinth and Gregory this evening. I may teach them a merry tune or dance, but mostly they will be reading with me, as I am not well enough to attend," she smiled fondly, thinking of the relaxing night she had ahead.

Anthony took a further step forward, almost into Iris's space, causing her to look up at him, he is so very tall...she mused, finding his proximity having a completely different effect on her, compared with Lord Berbrooke's attempts at manipulation.

"If you shan't come this evening, I pray you feel better, Iris. The day seems dimmer, without your smile," he murmured, raising a hand, as though to caress her face. Seemingly returning to his senses, he quickly dropped his hand and turned, gesturing his bookshelf, and reseating himself at his desk.

Iris stood frozen where he had left her. She softly cleared her throat, before approaching the bookshelf. "You simply must save me a dance at the next engagement, Anthony," she proclaimed, fetching his attention to her once more. She smiled warmly at him, nodding once to affirm her statement, "your dancing is too exquisite to leave you prowling the room, and I expect nothing more from you than good conversation and honourable company."

Anthony smiled and reached for her hand. Iris, having selected her book, offered him her free hand. He took it, smoothing his thumb over her knuckles, marvelling at the softness of her skin, before gently laying a kiss there, inhaling the floral bouquet of her perfume, his heart began to thud anxiously as he realised what he was beginning to feel for Iris.

Iris dipped into an elegant curtsey, before turning to leave the study. Anthony watched her go, and longer still, before Lady Bridgerton sidled into the doorway, a sly grin on her face as she took in his facial expression.

"I noticed Iris reading a beautiful copy of 'A Midsummer Night's Dream,' dearest. I do wonder that she got it from here, when you allow no others to peruse your shelves," Lady Bridgerton commented, her eyebrows raised.

Anthony grimaced and shook his head. He stood swiftly and grasped his jacket, threading his arms through the sleeves. "Mama, I know what you are up to, and I implore you, do not." He shook his head and checked for his father's pocket watch, the responsibility of his future and his family's weighing on his heart.

He turned to his mother and raised a hand as she opened her mouth. "Do not, mother, it would be unfair to any woman, while I do not understand myself, what it is I am feeling."

Lady Bridgerton closed her mouth and nodded solemnly. She approached him and helped him to button his cuffs, before smoothing the front of his jacket. She softly kissed his cheek, before turning to leave the room, without argument.

Anthony mulled over his thoughts in the silence.

Iris spent a pleasant evening teaching Gregory and Hyacinth to dance together, who were splendid to watch, while she caressed the ivory keys on Daphne's piano forte gently. The children were on time and held their form well, and Iris was overjoyed to witness another accomplishment borne to both.

Anthony, however, was not enjoying the evening.

From being accosted by Berbrooke, to being educated to the man's clear character by his good friend with dubious attentions for his sister, and to learn the real reason for Lord Berbrooke's black eye, he was simmering with barely concealed anger, which had increased to a white hot fury when Daphne had hissed to Lord Berbrooke lowly enough for only him to hear, but not lowly enough that Anthony hadn't heard, that "For Miss Edgehill's sake, I regret I hadn't given you two black eyes!"

Anthony stewed on his return trip home, gripping his gloves in his lap, while his mother and sister discussed the evening in the carriage journey back to Bridgerton House.

He was ready to march in and confront Daphne and Iris regarding this secretive moment between Iris and Lord Berbrooke, which the mere thought of turned his stomach, and stepped out of the carriage.

"Well, there are nary any lights on, so I do hope that Iris got some rest!" Declared Lady Bridgerton fondly. The trio entered the building to find the housekeeper awaiting them. She ushered Lady Bridgerton and Daphne to the stairs, before discreetly gesturing to Anthony to enter his study.

His soft footfalls brought him to his room, before he pushed open the door gently.

There in the dimming light of a single candle, sat Iris, in her favourite seat on the chaise across from his desk, with Gregory laid out asleep, his head in her lap as she fondly ran her fingers through his hair. Her hair was loose again, like a waterfall ensconced in sunshine and her features were so soft and caring, Anthony almost lost control of his breathing.

"You are meant to be resting," he murmured to her kindly. Iris opened her eyes to glance at him and smiled warmly Anthony regarded both the intruders and noted they were both in their nightclothes, with Iris wearing a soft pewter coloured overfrock on top of her cream coloured nightdress.

"I couldn't sleep, and came down to read," Iris explained, "but then Gregory appeared after having a bad dream, so I allowed him to remain with me for some time." She gently pulled her fingertips across his scalp again, her gaze on him so full of love that Anthony's heart swelled just looking at the scene.

"When he fell asleep," Iris continued, in almost a whisper, "I couldn't bear to wake him and hoped you might help me move him back to his room?" she looked up at him and Anthony smiled. He gently lifted his youngest brother and cradled him, as Iris stood and blew out the candle following Anthony as he carried his precious cargo up the carpeted staircase to his room.

Anthony lowered his brother to his mattress, as Iris turned down the coverlet, and then tucked it back over him, pressing a gentle kiss to his brow. Anthony led Iris from the room, closing the door behind them. Leading her up to her own room, Anthony felt his heart lurch at the emotions his ward was stirring in him.

Since he had ended things with Siena, he though it would be the end of this nonsense and he would allow his brothers to marry and carry on the Bridgerton line, but ever since that blasted Hastings had mentioned Iris, she consumed his every thought on the matter of the future Lady Bridgerton.

Standing in front of her door, she turned to bid him goodnight, but froze when she came face to face with him. They stood, transfixed with each pther for a few moments, until Anthony raised a hand and tugged on a tendril of her golden hair.

"Sometimes, Iris," he began, his voice like velvet in the silence of the hall, his eyes roving her face as he continued "the thought of you marrying someone, and leaving me, leaving us, fills me with so much sadness, I dread the day you accept another's proposal..."

"Anthony," she breathed, eyes wide, "There has been no proposal, no courting," she explained, almost desperately, "and there will be no proposal that I will accept," she whispered. Anthony almost sighed in relief, until her next words flooded his ears.

"I will accept no proposal from any gentleman, barring one."

Iris dipped into a curtsey and slipped into her room with a soft "goodnight," breathed behind her.

Anthony stood silent, staring at her door, puzzled by her answer.

Can it be true? Is there someone else? Am I too late?