The panic had been overwhelming. It tightened around his airway like a noose as he had realised with a sinking feeling that he might have very well lost his trusted planner. The planner that he had had since his father had handed it over to him the night before they had all set off for Aubrey Hall, the leather expensive and luxurious under his touch and the pages still pristine, waiting to be filled in. It had been a constant in his life, like an inanimate familiar, helping him achieve a transient sense of control over his life and it had been enough to stop him from falling apart in the dark days that had followed.

He took a deep breath amidst the mess that surrounded him, hoping to somehow loosen the weight around his lungs, relieve the heavy stone of helplessness that had settled quite firmly in the deep pits of his stomach. Even though he had already asked Maggie to sync his phone with the poor imitation of the calendar that he maintained on his laptop, it had not helped as everytime he had unconciously tried to flex his fingers, expecting to find familiar weight, he only grasped open air. This had the further domino effect of pushing him closer to the precipice of his anxiety and he had finally reached out for the pills that he had always at hand for cases such as this. But had been startled by a firm knock on his glass door, quite different from the one that he was used to from his secretary, and he looked up to see the familiar figure of his sister Francesca standing by the door, looking around his office concernedly.

"Is this a bad time?"

Anthony had only sighed, unable to find the words to really relate what had happened to explain the mess in his office. He would obviously tidy it up later but somehow, he did not have the strength now to do so. So, he had simply been curt in his reply: "I lost my planner."

Francesca had simply nodded, not really pressing him for details. Anthony realised that it was really not a nice sight for his sister to see him like that, so he had waved at his sister to take a seat, "Did you need something?"

Francesca had only bit her lip as she wondered if she should divulge her need, her blue eyes reflecting a deep tussle within her: "You said last week that you would accompany me to my piano recital today but since you did not call, I thought that I would come and see… It's okay. I will ask mum."

It was then that Anthony noticed—the soft glitter on his sister's pale cheeks and only the lightest hint of colour on her lips, the neat way in which her hair was arranged and the large tote bag. He remembered the tight hug that Francesca had given him as he had promised her that he would be accompanying her to the upcoming piano recital to cheer her on as they had both sat on the sofa in their mother's parlour, after a hearty Sunday's dinner. He remembered carefuly penning the reminder in the planner. He felt the shame roil in like a huge wave, further amplifying the desperation that he had already been feeling:

"I…" He felt as if he was grasping at straws, head still light from the revelries of last night. "I'll take you. No need to call mother. Just let me just grab my keys." His own voice had been foreign to his ears as Francesca had nodded anxiously, eyes wide with barely-concealed worry. It looked as if she had wanted to protest but the dark look on Anthony's face had probably stopped her from saying anything else. He shot off a quick message to Maggie to clear his schedule for the day and to take down the names of any callers or visitors who chose to come by before accompanying his sister purposefully to the elevators.

"Is this okay? I really do not want to take you away from…"

"Work has been slow." He lied through his teeth, "And we have not spent much time together recently, have we?"

His sister nodded with a small smile as the metal box had descended down the height of Bridgerton Tower into the basement where Anthony found his Landrover neatly parked. The ride had been filled with the gentle piano notes of Debussy's Clair de Lune that Francesca played on her phone in preparation for her recital, the sound helping to soothe Anthony's frazzled nerves. By the time he had taken his seat in the darkness of the school auditorium, he had felt a little calmer, mind distracted by the excitement of seeing his sister perform for such a huge crowd. By the time she had climbed onto the stage and settled in front of the grand piano, face sombre as she pressed down on the keys, the familiar music allowing Anthony to lose himself in admiring the brilliant way that his sister played and the effortless way her fingers moved over the keys, holding the crowd in thrall of the haunting music. She had only deserved the perfect score that the judges had seen fit to give her.

"I was so nervous. I told myself: you have done this so many times, it is just you and the piano up there. But the silence always is so loud you know…like you know there is an entire room of people looking up at you and yet, you believe you are quite alone up there…" Francesca had only broken off to take a breath and a deep sip of the black milk boba tea in her hand. The euphoria of the win had loosened the tongue of his usually reticent sister and Anthony had appreciated the chatter, letting out soft hums of attention as they drove back to his office to pick up Anthony's stuff before they would make their way to their mother's townhouse for dinner. Maggie had already left and as the siblings entered the expansive floor which housed Anthony's office, still lit for the cleaning staff, Francesca had let out a charmed giggle:

"It feels like we are breaking in."

"Not when you are the boss." Anthony shot back light-heartedly as he pushed open the glass door, only to have his breath stick to his throat. The familiar brown leather binder was placed neatly beside the small neat stack of callers and events which would need his attention tomorrow. He almost thought he had dreamt it up but the soft worn leather remained as rich and tangible under his fingertips as ever. As he flipped it open, a small chit fell out onto his palm, an unknown handwriting scribbled on it—

Drinks, soon?

-Kate

His mind filled with the images of last night, the soft supple skin under his fingers as he checked for a pulse, her firm dark gaze as she had looked up at him, luscious lips slightly parted, making his heartbeat ricochet within his ribs in a dangerous manner, a knowing smile as he had helped her into the waiting taxi he had booked for the night to help him shuttle between the weddings that had booked his company's services and the fact that both the couples were known to him in one way or another. Joseph had been a dear friend in Oxford, who had asked him to be his best man for the occassion and Philippa Featherington was the sister of Colin's girlfriend which had meant that the entire Bridgerton family had been forced to be in attendance for the latter. It had been hard to sneak around the two banquet halls but his luck had paid off when the couples had agreed to the venues that Anthony had suggested to the both of them, close to each other, making it easier for Anthony to get around without getting caught, popping up at perfect times to be there for both, excuses ready at hand for questions about his timed disappearances. He knew that Joseph probably suspected him of shagging one of the many bridesmaids to account for his missing presence and his family had been too numerous in their attendance for anyone to truly notice one of them missing. And despite the blur that the night had been in his mind, she had been the only constant in his head as he had stumbled into his condominium late at night, nauseous and only eager to crash into his waiting bed.

He found her number in the small stack of cards, realising that he had only missed her by an hour. He quickly keyed in the digits, allowing his finger to hover over the message button for just a moment, wondering if it would be too eager on his part to send her a message so quickly. But he had shot one off anyway:

Tomorrow?

He had emerged to find Francesca chewing quite contemplatively on the remaining boba in her cup as she held up her phone at Anthony:

"Daphne will be joining us tonight for dinner."

Anthony nodded smiling, happy at the thought of seeing the sister who was the closest to him but careful to not let his emotions show so blatantly in front of his other sister for fear of hurting her. It had only been too long since he had last seen Daphne, both of them. As they had both strapped themselves into the rich leather seats of his car, Anthony felt the familiar buzz of a received text in his slacks but resisted the urge to open it. Only when he had bounded up the stone steps of the old, brick house behind his sister did he chance to look at the phone and see the small text notification light up his screen and heart:

Perfect.

… … … …

Anthony had indeed been quite distracted by thoughts of Kate as he had walked into the spacious parlour, quite excited for their meeting the next day, which had almost caused him to miss the couple by the fireplace, mouths fused together as they remained intertwined with the other, the man's hand quite comfortably resting a little too close to his sister's bottom than was proper. And all the pleasant thoughts from before had quite quickly dissipated into a hot red rage which had propelled Anthony across the room and separate the two from the each other and clock as hard as he could to the familiar face of his best friend as Daphne screamed behind him:

"Anthony!"

His fists came hard and quick and surprisingly, Simon bore them bravely even as Daphne kept shrieking for him to stop. He was satisfied by the bloody lip and the swollen eye that he had managed to give Simon in the short while that he had plummelled him even as Benedict and Colin dragged his kicking self away, pain of his split knuckles quite forgotten in the adrenaline that was still coursing through his veins. His wild eyes caught his mother looking quite horrified at Simon's battered face and he suddenly realised why Daphne and Simon had been left quite alone in the room.

"You knew?" He snarled and his mother had to her credit, looked a little ashamed as she had given a small delayed nod. He ripped himself away from the grips of his brothers as he had stalked to the middle of the room. Eloise stayed immobile by the door and he knew Francesca had already corralled Gregory and Hyacinth away to stop them from witnessing the meltdown that was threatening to tear apart the façade that Anthony had managed to hold onto for so long—"And you never told me?"

"I told her not to tell you." Daphne piped up from where she had been tending to Simon with an ice pack, probably procured from the emergency kit that they always kept at hand in every room. "Since we all knew what a savage you can be."

"Daphne!" Simon's voice was soft but the cut had already been done. Anthony's eyes narrowed as he stared back into the cornflower eyes of his sister—"You think I am a savage?"

The slight discomfort had flitted through her face but only for a moment before it hardened again, "You threw hands first. Simon was the one who wanted your blessing."

"Blessing?" Anthony frowned, "What blessing?"

"Simon and I are getting married."

He felt Benedict and Colin's hands again wrap around his shoulders as if they were already expecting him to fly off the handle again, but this time, Anthony felt himself freeze, hardly believing his ears. His eyes finally took in the ring on his sister's finger, crowned with a sparkling rock—one that he had quite apparently missed in his anger. His mother looked stricken and Simon refused to meet his eyes. It was only Daphne who was standing up to him, a red hue on her face, quite matching her strawberry blonde roots. Eloise had only grimaced at the silence but remained where she was.

"When was this decision made?" His voice was entirely too quiet even as emotions bubbled with him, making him want to scream loudly and bang against something until he had reduced it to dust. Maybe then he could finally let out the frustrations that roiled within him daily, compartmentalise properly those pesky emotions and disappointments that he suffered from daily which had only made him human. It tore at him that his entire family could not have been bothered to tell him about such a momentous occasion—leaving him to find out on his own, bumbling into it in the worst way possible.

"Does it matter?" Daphne seemed frustrated herself, her voice cold and hard to Anthony's grave rumble, "We are planning to host the engagement party next week at The Roux. And…"

"I want you to be my best man." Simon cut in over Daphne, as if he had belatedly realised that he had remained silent for way too long, leaving Daphne to deal with her livid brother. He had flinched as Anthony's eyes had swept over him, but Anthony could not be bothered with the small sense of victory that small action had lit within him. The tension in the room was already too much to bear and all sense of happiness that he had felt but just minutes ago had now crumpled into a barrage of emotions that he did not feel brave enough to unpack immediately. So, he had not said anything at all and stalked out of the room as quick as he could; Eloise swiftly moving away to let him pass.

No one called after him.

And he could not have been any more grateful for that.

… … … …