The Sharma family had spearheaded the art conservation practices in the country since the late 20th century. And though they weren't nearly as rich as the Bridgertons they have always been comfortable.

Nevertheless, the simple life suited her small family more than the flamboyant and lavish lifestyle that the entirety of London expects of them.

But tonight was different. Tonight, for the first time in her twenty-six years of life, Kate was willingly stepping into the role she had been born into.

She walked solo— as she always was and preferred to be— up the stairs of Somerset. Camera flashes clicked in every direction. The clamor of photographers towards the guests and spectators was deafening and quite rattling. Kate started counting her steps, afraid if she didn't, she'll fall flat on her face. It also proved to be a great distraction from the smoldering eyes of the eldest Bridgerton standing at the top of the stairs.

She had stopped, mid-step, when she saw him. Her eyes seemingly drawn to his from the get go. It was disarming to say the least. And the fact that he looked every bit of a charming gentleman that he always prided himself to be, didn't appease the stampede in her chest. Kate brazenly stared, eying his classic suit and pressed bow tie. And couldn't help, yet again, be aware of the cold, hard facts.

Yes, he was foul, the most presumptuous, most exasperating man Kate had ever met. But even she couldn't deny that Anthony Bridgerton was utterly gorgeous. Even if he was vexing her and making her want to gouge his eyes out.

But if she was being honest with herself, his natural beauty and talent to always annoy her weren't the sole reasons for her to still be drawn to him like some helpless magnet. But rather, the fact that he was awfully altruistic. Especially when it comes to his family.

From the year since she knew him, Anthony had always been thoughtful and loved his entire family dearly. He had selflessly provide for them even without hearing a wordy recognition. (The younger Bridgertons disguised their eternal gratitude by mercilessly teasing him. Still, Kate recognized their reverence and adulation all the same). The charming, brooding side of him only added ammunition to his already palpable appeal. Not that she'd ever admit that to anyone. Kate figured that she'd walk through a storm first before anyone could make her do so.

But, there it was again. That something wonderfully odd about the way he was looking at her right now. The familiar defiance was there, and then something she couldn't (or didn't want to) name, lest she was wrong. (And she had been proven wrong by him before. And that had been more than enough for her to take a step back and evaluate her choices and priorities in life.)

Kate tipped her head back,— the very picture of elegance, power and grace— and met his intensive gander. When she reached him, he clenched his jaw and shifted by taking a subtle step back. He took a deep breath as if to brace for her next words.

"Lord Bridgerton." She said, delighting at how calling him by his title always seem to aggravate him.

"Miss Sharma." He greeted back with a gritted teeth. "Looking forward to this evening?"

"Indeed. And yourself, my lord?"

His lips thinned yet again at the address, nostrils flared. Kate reveled in his broiling temper.

"Very, very much so, Miss Sharma." He said darkly. "Shall we?"

Kate saw his arms, which were always primly behind his back, twitched as if he wanted to reach out, offer her his hand. She then cursed herself for even coming up with that thought. Because why in the world would a Bridgerton, let alone, someone like Anthony, want to escort her to anything?

Their footsteps landed side by side as they made their way inside the hall. People milled about them, conversation rang in the air. They exchanged a light and amicable tales about work and their family. At one point in their journey, Anthony had to squeeze himself beside her due to the amount of people trying to get inside. His hand also had protectively held the exposed skin of her waist. The other, on the wall beside her head when somebody, suddenly and forcefully nudged them to the side. His nose bumped against her hair, and she felt the slightest touch of his lips on her temple. She stopped breathing. Anthony whipped his head to see the perpetrator, his brother, Colin.

"Oopsies! Sorry Kate, Anthony. Didn't see you there." Before he threw them a mischievous, open-mouthed Ha! smile over his shoulder and disappeared in the crowd.

His hand flexed on her exposed skin. And her gasp of surprise must've been audible because he stopped cursing at his brother and looked at her.

Everything faded into a mute, blurry nonsense. And he was the only thing she could feel.

She could smell the enticing scent of sandalwood and whiskey. But mostly dominated by sandalwood. It reminded her of the said plants near her grandparent's house in India. It took everything in her willpower not to bury her nose on his neck, to surround herself with the redolent smell of home.

When she looked up, his irises were unfathomable depths of brown. He was staring at her with the same feverish, burning severity. She could feel his breath on her lips which had parted involuntarily during the wordless exchange.

"KATE!"

They sprung apart, eyes darting in mild panic towards the throng of people. But everyone surprisingly looked occupied by the grandness and buzz of the event.

"Kate!" the voice rang again. "Over here!"

Anthony swiveled in the other direction, grumbling. "Spectacular."

Kate then saw a cluster of chestnut brown hair coming towards them. Leading the group was Eloise. To her side was Violet who looked slightly scandalized by Eloise's outburst. Francesca and Hyacinth walked arm in arm, and were waving at her. Gregory was fixing his bow tie which looked adoringly like Anthony's. They're dressed to the nines and looked as regal, prolific and influential as one family could be.

Eloise enveloped her in a warm, tight hug. Almost, snapping her out of her Anthony-inflicted-haze. Almost. "Holy fuck! Kate! You look incredible! Wow!"

Kate laughed, returning her embrace.

Beside her, Violet nearly collapsed, "Language, Eloise."

"Why? It's the truth." The fifth Bridgerton sibling defended. She took a side step, allowing the rest of her clan to exchange tender and attentive pleasantries that Kate didn't feel like she deserved.

Francesca leaned over and pressed her cheeks to hers. Hyacinth and Gregory tucked themselves on either of her side. Kate slung an arm around each of their shoulders. Both of them were bombarding her with their progress in their respective art classes. She listened, but only vaguely, keeping an ear for Violet Bridgerton. And an eye out for Anthony who watched the spectacle with a twinkle in his eyes. That strange fondness gnawed at her heart once again when she saw Fran pull Anthony for their sibling handshake. Afterwards, he put his arm around her and engaged in their own conversation. Francesca then showed something on her phone and Anthony laughed in agreement.

"—Nevertheless, you shouldn't cuss in front of your siblings."

"Mum," Eloise said in a boring but as a matter of fact tone. "If you could only hear the things this lot say when you're not around–"

From under her arm, Hyacinth protested, making Kate turn her attention back to her. "I do not cuss!"

"Yeah, but you said 'twat' the other day so…" Gregory incriminated.

"I most certainly did not!" The youngest fought, taking a step towards her brother.

"Yeah, you did." Francesca joined.

"No, I did not!" She looked up at her, possibly for help. "Tell them, Kate!" Then to her eldest brother, "Anthony!"

"Children." Violet interrupted with a maternal yet exasperated inflection. And everyone seemed to cower, even Eloise.

"And how are you Mrs. Bridgerton?" Kate smiled.

"Swell. And please, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Violet." She kissed both her cheeks. "Although, I have to agree with Eloise. You look absolutely lovely, my dear." Violet then turned and spoke to her eldest. "Doesn't she, Anthony?"

Everyone's attention turned to him and when Kate finally lifted her gaze he was already looking at her.

"Yes. She absolutely does."

His countenance was soft and warming and nothing short of wonderful. Kate should look away, really she should. But the honesty and sincerity in those depths tethered her.

She cleared her throat, feeling insecure by the attention all of a sudden.

"Now, it's your turn to say he's handsome too, Kate." Hyacinth prodded the silence, looking at her hopefully. And it reminded her so much when Edwina was that age. All big eyes and pursed, childish lips.

"We don't want the viscount's head to get swollen even more than it already is, now do we?" Kate jested, making the family chuckle along with her. She looked over Anthony again, expecting his grudge and animosity. But his lips twitched, barely repressing a grin.

Hyacinth was still pouting at her, big dazzling eyes imploring her request. No wonder Anthony had always favored the youngest; Hy was always after his own interests. In hindsight, her next words really were for Hyacinth. And never, in the slightest, for her to admit her own unvoiced opinion. "But yes. He does clean up nicely."

They stared at each other, seemingly lost in a trance again. Until another familiar voice shouted over the hall.

"There you all are!"

"Haven't I taught you all manners?" Violet miffed, shaking her head. "Daphne, dear. Do not shout."

Daphne who was equally and elegantly dressed as her family, marched towards them. Kate had almost forgotten that Daphne was a part of the department orchestrating this event.

"How are you all family?" She greeted, and everyone chorussed in their hellos.

Daphne then thrusted a pen and a clipboard she was holding to her.

"Right. Kate, I need you to put your name on this. You too, Eloise."

"Uh? What's this?"

"What for?" Eloise asked as well, studying the signatures on the list over Kate's shoulder.

"Oh, they have to know the names of people who are participating in the auction. Some names did not patch through final list." Daphne explained.

"Don't they have the back up RSVPs?" Asked Kate but signed all the same. She passed the board to Eloise.

"They had an email glitch last minute or something. I don't know the technicalities."

Kate raised an eyebrow at Daphne's slightly frantic response.

"And that is why I do not rely on them. We mustn't put our into trust something that can think of its own." Eloise surmised conspiratorially. "Did you know about that engineer from google who didn't know he was conversing with an A.I.?"

After a few minutes of waiting in line to be seated, Edwina and her boyfriend Matthew arrived. They left the Bridgertons to take their seats.

The bidding was going to start soon. Kate was fidgeting restlessly in her seat, that drove Edwina towards the bar to get her a drink.

It was the vibration in her purse that saved her poor nerves from falling apart. Kate grabbed the item and saw the message notification, reading

"Are you ready to lose, Sharma?"

Kate swept the room until she found her target, standing by the bar with his two brothers. She narrowed her eyes at the overconfident smile on his blasted face. She typed,

"Are you, Bridgerton?"

She looked up to see him smiling down his phone. A few seconds later,

"Did my research on Rousseau the other day. Talented fellow. I say, I am so looking forward to seeing his work on my wall.

She's seeing red. Her jitters, now replaced with deep-rooted ire. What was with this man that disturbs her so? She flexed her fingers, as if gauging the size of his throat.

"And I'm looking forward on seeing the utter defeat on your face when I win."

His response was dismissive, immediate but not less pesky.

"I was thinking of nailing it on my bedroom wall. I wanted it to be the first thing I see in the morning. What do you reckon?"

Kate frowned but couldn't help but agree with his emplacement. Because, if it's her, she'd place it in her room as well. But Kate was not selfish to keep it all to herself. Once she acquired it, the painting would go the gallery, forever in public display.

"I reckon that you're too presumptuous for your own good."

Kate watched him fiddle on his phone for a bit, before she received,

"Come now, Miss Sharma. I would allow you to visit it once it is in my possession. Take it as out of the goodness of my heart."

"As if I would go anywhere near where you conduct your business, my lord. I don't wanna get STDs thank you very much."

Above the ruckus and mutterings in the crowd, she heard him laugh.

"I assure you, I don't have, nor have I ever been tested positive for any kind of disease."

"Congratulations are in order then? Good for you for protecting yourself and the female population of London from such an agonising fate !"

"As always, you're very welcome."

She typed,

"That was sarcasm."

"Whatever you say. Still, I couldn't help but sense you brimming with curiosity. Always knew you've always find me pleasing. 😈"

Kate rolled her eyes but fought the urge to smile at the little devil emoji. Who knew a man like Anthony Bridgerton immerses himself in something so trivial from time to time?

"Assuming as ever, Bridgerton. Don't you ever get tired?"

Her phone was silent for a while and Kate fought the urge to look in his direction, see what he was up to but fought against it. Still, she waited for a few minutes, a mild disappointment in her gut. Kate was finally accepting the end to their conversation when he responded,

"Never. But for the record, I don't bring anyone to my home. Not ever. Not counting my nasty siblings burgling the contents of my fridge. "

A small, hypocritical part of her was dancing upon learning that, that Kate finally allowed herself to smile.

"Nasty? Even Hyacinth? "

Kate knew, of all his siblings, the youngest Bridgerton had Anthony helplessly wrapped around her little finger. And she was right.

"NO. Never Hyacinth. "

"Good evening, Ladies and Gentlemen. Please take your seats." A pleasant deep voice pealed through the hall. A man with dark hair and a likable persona stood on the podium.

"Welcome to Somerset for the sale of Victoria and Dominic Penck's great collection ranging from works of the 1800s to early 1900s. I am David Mhasabati, your auctioneer."

Kate found herself scanning the room again. She wasn't too surprised to see Anthony peeking over Hyacinth's shoulder to return her fearless, daring guise.

The man was known to be extremely prudent with his money. Hence Kate was positive that he won't indulge more than necessary. And he did mention that he was setting eyes on the Montigny collection, which weren't necessarily cheap. Kate was reassured that he would give up and she'd come out as the victor of this round.

But the moron tipped his drink, winked at her, grinning like the devil he was, stoking the fire she already felt.

Game on.

Desire was no light thing.

But until now, Anthony had no idea of the enormity of it. And how it could disarm him. Rob him off his speech. Make his heart run out of his chest, begging for a reaction, a quirked eyebrow, simple touch and a heartfelt smile.

And so, to say it in simpler terms, Anthony Bridgerton was bloody, fucking hell screwed. To the nth degree.

He had been standing on the terrace of Somerset, engaged in an amiable conversation with the baron when he felt it again. The hair on his nape and arms stood in attention, an inkling of the most innate and primal kind. He had no choice but to turn his head. And felt his breath stutter to a maddening halt.

Though, to be frank, it had not been the first time that she completely took his breath away.

Anthony ground himself, his arms tightly behind his back as he returned the weight of her stare. She had stood before him, walked beside him, his senses overwhelmed by her entire being.

"Lord Bridgerton." She had greeted in that demanding, teasing low tone. Kate knew he hated being called by his title for it made him feel older than he was. (Besides, his father—Edmund— was the viscount. Anthony was only the poor replacement.) But something about her face and inflection when she addressed him like that. Anthony couldn't help but feel that underneath her playful undertones, was an unmistakable sense of amour propre. Like she was proud of him, has faith in him, thinks highly of him... That he was worthy. And it, she, made him want to be obsequious and reckless all at the same bloody time.

For many months now, he had distrusted his body not to do something absurd like, pull her in his arms. Or kiss her in front of all of London. Anthony had to painfully remind himself that she hated his guts and she was not his. (Though, in all fairness, Anthony couldn't shake the feeling that if she'd only ask, he would be more than happy to oblige. And to his greatest surprise, he didn't seem appalled to that idea. But then again, she wasn't Kate if she's not stubborn. And he wasn't Anthony if he's anything but a coward.)

Hence, until he sorted out his perplexing emotions, he'd be, —albeit yearningly— most content in giving her distance, stolen glances and accidental touches.

If it weren't for her damning perfume and the way her skin was so smooth to touch, he'd be successful in this year-long endeavor. But apparently God and whoever made those clothes for her had other plans.

He couldn't take his eyes off her. Anthony had never felt this unstoppable, untenable force. Helplessly leaving him no choice but to happily surrender.

His family had ambushed Kate once they saw her, neglecting him entirely. And yet, Anthony couldn't find it in himself to be jealous that they get along with her so well. In fact, he welcomed it. He couldn't help but admire how she took the time to listen to Hy's rants. Exchange opinions with his mother and siblings. Shower compliments to Greg which never failed to always make his little brother blush a deep crimson. Kate fits right in, she always had.

"You know you're gonna burn a hole on the back of her head if you keep staring, right?" Colin's voice interjected, smirking at him through the rim of his scotch.

He glowered.

The program had taken a half time break to ready the last sets of paintings. Anthony resorted to the open bar with his brothers again. Poor choice of companion, really. But everyone here was either trying to milk him out of his money or flirting with him. So, his idiot brothers would have to suffice.

"Tell us Ant, how long do you plan in punishing yourself like this?" Chuffed Ben, an elbow resting on the island, facing him.

"I don't know what you are on about." He dismissed, motioning to the bartender for another glass.

"Really, brother?" Colin admonished, his eyebrows all the way up his hairline. "You know, you can just ask her out. Do us all a favor."

"If I ask her out…" Anthony let himself daydream about that for a moment. "…It will not be for some bloody favor or just to get you tossers off my back."

His brothers cackled behind their drinks.

"Just so, brother. You better get the hell on with it then before someone beat you to it. And I'm not talking about Gregory this time." Benedict cocked his head towards Kate while Colin silently sipped his drink, an aristocratic eyebrow raised. Their eyes landed behind him, a kinetic excitement sparking in them. He knew that had never been a good sign.

Anthony never had veered off his seat that fast.

An ugly emotion started clawing at his chest as he witnessed Thomas Dorset, a colleague back in Oxford offering Kate drinks. Dorset had taken Edwina's empty seat. And the two were now engaged in what looked like a sprightly conversation.

"I reckon, we've finally lost him, Ben." Somewhere behind him, Colin resigned. Benedict giggled, spraying his drink down his suit. But Anthony really couldn't care less because Dorset was now sitting too close for comfort. The dimwit's mouth moved (to speak something stupid, he was certain) and Kate laughed.

And how carefree it sounded.

Anthony had the strongest urge to punch a wall then bang someone's head (possibly Dorset's first, then his brothers, then his) against a brick wall.

"Evening, Bridgertons."

"Ah! Edwina!" His brothers greeted in unison.

Anthony forced his gaze away to look at the impish grin on the youngest Sharma. But surreptitiously kept Kate at the corner of his eye.

"Anthony."

"Edwina." He greeted with terse and stern smile. Anthony almost wanted to chastise her for being here instead with her sister who had to endure the boring prattle from the good doctor.

But in full retrospect, Kate, the maddening woman shared his tireless devotion to her family, one that could even rival his own. Hence, Anthony thought, that if there's someone who could intervene Kate and Dorset's discourse, someone who'd wholly capture Kate's attention, it was Edwina.

If only his brothers would stop offering her drinks.

"You boys enjoying your evening?" she took a sip of Colin's proffered scotch.

"The best. Though, we can't say the same for Anthony."

Amidst his plot to send Edwina away and back to her sister, he managed to send another dagger in Colin's direction.

"Ah." She said wistfully, finally turning to look at her sister from across the room.

"Looks like she won't be needing this anymore. " Edwina surmised, drinking the mojito the barmaid gave her.

It took all of Anthony not to shove Edwina back towards them.

"You can relax, Anthony. Tom is a good man." Edwina added, as if it'll calm his frantic nerves

Anthony felt something bilious rising up his throat. Edwina has always been sweet and generous. But evidently, hanging out with Eloise and his brothers had corrupted her benevolent nature.

Why did it seem like everyone's torturing him tonight?

"I heard he only attended because of the intermission." Edwina conspired, making all three of them turn to her.

"What intermission?" Anthony sniped, eyebrows furrowed.

"Oh, you know. The other program Daphne arranged?" she answered casually.

Anthony willed her to talk faster.

"—The one where ladies get to stand on the platform and gentlemen could offer a bid on them. Kate and Eloise signed the list earlier. They didn't know, of course. But hey, it's for the kids who couldn't go to school. So, Kate will understand. As for Eloise, I can't be sure."

—

Edwina Sharma watched, with overflowing satisfaction when she saw the great, untouchable Anthony Bridgerton stiffened as her words sunk in.

Then, without the gracefulness he was notoriously known for, he scrambled his pockets and produced the empty stash of his cheque book. He paled even more before whipping his head to give one last look at her sister. She was now sitting alone which triggered a sigh of relief from the gentleman beside her. But he dashed off, remembering his predicament, muttering expletives as he did so.

Eloise was right. This was way more fun than talking sense to both of their elder siblings.

Beside her, Benedict and Colin were having a fit. The two were clutching each other, inebriated, unaware of their brother leaving them.

"Are you quite serious?!"

"Oh, Eloise would be furious! Daphne, well done sister! Well done!" Benedict applauded with a mocking clap. "Brava! Brava!" Colin joined, head turning about in search for their sister.

"Yes, well—" Edwina chuffed, popping the olive from Benedict's drink on her mouth. "I bet Sophie and Penelope wouldn't be too thrilled either."

That shut them up.

"I have to find a cashpoint." Benedict said suddenly, walking away as he pillaged his wallet.

"I'm gonna kill— DAPHNE!" Colin hollered towards the onlookers, his sister still nowhere in sight.

Edwina watched the eligible Bridgerton men scurry off, panicking to different directions. She leaned her hip on the stool, noting how her sister's eyes stayed by the alcove Anthony disappeared into. Edwina loved her sister. She deemed her as one of the most intelligent, most considerate person in the face of the earth. But she wondered, not for the first time, how clueless Kate was with the matters of her very own heart.

—

The energy in the room was waning; everyone had finally acquired the best of the lot.

As promised, Anthony and his siblings had acquired the Montigny paintings. They had spent over five-hundred thousand euros over said paintings, making them the high-rollers of the night. Kate had watched the Bridgerton siblings, Particularly the youngest, looked at Anthony for guidance during the length of each bid. He'd given them a nod, a nudge and many reassuring smiles when they want to outbid someone and were asking for his permission. Anthony gave it freely. The smile on their faces when they won charmed her as much as Anthony's overflowing love for them. The man had always treated his mother and siblings with respect and devotion. Regardless of their age, or their constant frenzied but animated nature. And Kate shouldn't find that as beguiling as it was. But she did. Goddamn it, she did.

She had lost sight of him a while ago, and Kate thought he had bailed. (Not that she was keeping him in his periphery, she wasn't! She was only assessing the competition.)

"And now—" the auctioneer started, pulling her out of her reverie.

"Lot 18A is an oil painting by Théodore Rousseau entitled 'Come, Morning.'. Victoria Penck acquired this late 2017. The painting demonstrates Rousseau's mastery of light diffusion. His proclivity for depicting the harmonious coexistent of nature and humankind is something to be deeply appreciated. Shall we start the bidding at twenty thousand pounds?"

Kate raised her paddle immediately. "Bidding."

"Twenty, in the room. Do I hear—"

"Twenty-five." Anthony countered, looking slyly at her.

"Twenty-five, for Lord Anthony Bridgerton. Twenty-five, Twenty-five. Can I hear—"

"Thirty." Kate exclaimed, returning his stare.

"Wonderful Kate! Do I hear, thirty-five?"

"Bidding!" Someone from the crowd joined in.

"Thirty-five, thirty-five. Thank you for the extra bid, Taylor. How about forty?" David cited, arms waving in frenzy.

"Forty!" Anthony and Kate shouted simultaneously, before scowling at each other. Kate gnashed her teeth at his obvious come-hither reaction.

"There could be only one buyer. Who's it gonna be?"

The audience chuckled and if Kate wasn't too occupied with besting him, she would've glared at everyone as well.

"Sixty-thousand" Kate finally declared.

Anthony's jaw dropped in disbelief.

She smirked.

"Sixty, sixty for Miss Kate. Come on don't be shy. Don't be shy."

"Sixty-five." Another one bid from the stands.

"Sixty five thousand for buyer on the phone. Do I hear seventy?" David asked the crowd.

Kate saw Anthony gave a deathly glare towards the poor bod standing on the sidelines. With every smugness she knew he had, Anthony clinched, "Hundred-thousand pounds". Then, he had the audacity to look at her in that playful, impertinent way.

Kate started seeing red. She gripped the paddle board and wondered what would happen if she whacked it on his oversized head. She was certain that he was only doing this to vex her.

David stopped waving his arms and dropped them with a dramatic clap. He regarded the room with astounding disbelief. "You see, that's the way guys. For charity."

The podium laughed before David remembered himself. "A hundred, a hundred ladies and gentlemen! Any more now? Mark? Mark? You done? Alright, mate. Thank you for bidding. Do I hear a hundred and five?"

"Bidding!" Kate exclaimed. Edwina sat beside her, happily sipping what must be her third gin and tonic.

"A hundred fi—" David remarked before getting cut off by Anthony

"Hundred ten!"

"Hundred fifteen!" She was trembling, her eyes dead set on him.

"Do I hear—"

"A hundred eighteen!"

"Hundred twenty!" Her heart beat was erratic now. Oh, she's gonna kill him.

It was only between them now.

"Hundred twenty five!" She roared, more to Anthony than to the auctioneer.

"Hundred thirty!"

"They're shouting their bid. Much easier. Let's let them." David pointed out, making the room explode in another poised laughter.

"Hundred thirty-five!" She cried, not even bothering raising her paddle.

"Hundred thirty-five for Miss Kate Sharma. Will you someone give me a hundred-forty?" David asked the crowd, his gavel swirling in the air. "A hundred-forty? Anyone else jumping in?"

"Two-hundred!" Anthony disputed.

Kate squinted her eyes at him in outrage.

"Wonderful, wonderful bidding! We've come a long way for charity. You coming, Kate? Lord Bridgerton has it at—"

"Two hundred and fifty!" She screamed.

"Excellent! Excellent!"

Come on, David, drop the bloody gavel down.

"Going once."

She looked over at Anthony who was observing her with a genuine smile of… of surrender. He gave her an amused side eye and nodded at her.

It couldn't be…

"It's Kate Sharma's for two-fifty." David's eyes assessed the crowd, leaning over the podium with both hands. "Does anyone want it for two-fifty five? Two five five? It's Kate's for two hundred fifty thousand."

She can almost taste it now.

After this, she figured she will have to thank Anthony for conceding and giving her this—

"Bidding!"

All heads snapped towards the stands and Kate felt her stomach drop. Kate knew that man. Joseph Brimsley, art connoisseur from Tate has joined the bid. He was well-known for being brutal at the last minute and she couldn't help the dread that douse her spirit. He was chattering away, phone clutched in his ear.

"Two fifty-five! Just in time!"

"Bidding!" She retaliated, hefting her paddle.

"Two sixty thousand for Kate."

Brimsley raised his arm again to counter. "Three-hundred!"

"Three-hundred for Brimsley and the bidder on the phone."

"Three-hundred-five!"

"I'm getting excited now. Three-hundred-five for Miss Kate Sharma." David stalled. "Do I hear, three—"

Brimsley's voice boomed. "One million pounds." His arm extended, and it felt like he had slapped her.

"One million! Brilliant! Brilliant bidding!" David crowed and the crowd clapped.

"One million and five!" Kate shouted.

"Lovely! Lovely, thank you Kate! Does anyone want to match that?"

Brimsley raised his paddle.

"Yes, thank you Brimsley!"

Kate swallowed, feeling the tears stinging her eyes. She wrung her hand around the handle of her paddle. Her shoulders sagged in defeat.

Edwina held her hand in a consoling gesture, eyes glued to the side of her face. "Didi."

David raised the hand holding the gavel again and Kate braced herself for the blow.

"Going once, going—"

"One million twenty." Disputed a very familiar voice.

The crowd gasped.

Others clapped, trying to find the person behind the demanding tone.

But she knew and she gawked.

Kate turned her head and saw Anthony rejoining the bid. He gave her a steady regard before he looked away, repeating with a steady determined tone.

"One million twenty."

"We're skipping to hundreds then. Welcome back, Lord Anthony." David chuckled. "One point twenty. We're at one point twenty."

The bidding continued for another five minutes and Anthony never looked at her once. His countenance was confident and unyielding. Mulling in defeat, Kate thought, perhaps the painting was better off with Anthony than Brimsley. With Anthony she still might have a chance to see it. There's a sliver of hope in her chest. Until Brimsley offered an unmatched amount, too high even for any of Rosseau's works.

"Twenty million and seventy!"

"This is mental." Edwina muttered to herself.

Kate felt her heart in her throat.

"Fair warning. I'm selling it." David pointed his fingers between Anthony and Brimsley, like a mad man. "Gavel's up. I have to hurry you, Lord Anthony."

She gawped, fists clenching.

Her gaze gravitated towards Anthony again, who was now staring at her. She saw him gulp, his brown eyes were almost sad, apologetic. Kate felt a weird urge to console him, to wallow in the same desolated feeling she was experiencing.

She held his eyes, feeling comforted by his attention on her somehow, even as the gavel went down.

—

Something was off with her.

Anthony knew from various experience that she has always been a sore loser. She had just lost her most favorite painting for twenty million pounds. And for her to suddenly shift in a cheerful mood was questionable itself. He knows that given the chance, the woman would compete with time itself about who'd be having the last breath.

So, why on earth was she acting like that?

Anthony frowned, poring over her giddy form. She was standing across the room with Colin, Penelope, Edwina and Eloise. Kate was giggling, swaying on her feet, her drink almost spilling out of her goblet.

And like her, Anthony never wanted to lose. He always needed to win. He grew up with seven siblings, so, of course his sense of competitiveness was bound to deepen. But with alarming certainty, Anthony realized that instead of being angry for his loss, he was angry for her.

Anthony had yielded when he felt her giving her all... And for the first time, he found himself relishing on another's victory. He never intended to keep it to himself. He just wanted to rile her up.

But another, a nameless prick upped the bid. And he had never seen her so utterly devastated. The frown on her face, her eyes glistening with unshed tears coerced him to do something.

And before he knew it, Anthony had reinstated himself on the bidding war. But he still lost. He was so furious, he had promptly walked out to get some fresh air. Anthony had then called his assistant and gave him the name of the bidder he learned from Daphne. Joseph Brimsley. His assistant promised him to get the details as soon as he got it. Because, if anybody deserved that painting, it was Kate. Not some rich bloke or whoever Brimsley's buying for who would only glance at it once or twice in their lifetime.

"Why are you scowling again, Ant?" Came Gregory's concerned voice. Anthony pivoted in his seat and saw his fifteen-year old brother and Simon. They had occupied the empty seat on either side of him. Gregory slouchedon his seat, leaning the side his entire body on Anthony's. Just like he always did since he was young.

"He's not scowling, Greg. He's pinning." Simon crossed his arms behind his head and tilted his chair on its back legs.

Anthony wouldn't have let such comment pass on normal occasions. But Gregory scrunched up his nose, making Anthony rein in the punch he was holding out for his oldest and best mate. (And soon to be brother-in-law. It will never not be odd calling him that.)

"Where's mum? I thought you are all leaving?"

The room was clearing out after the bid ended half an hour ago. But some spectators stayed behind for the after party at the adjacent hall. All credits to Daphne and her power of charisma and persuasion.

"We were. Mum's only saying goodbye to her friends. Fran and Hy are in the loo." Greg sat straighter all of a sudden to inquire, "Why do girls always take so long in the loo? What are they doing there?"

"Who knows, mate. Who knows?" Anthony chortled, reaching a sneaky hand to ruffle his hair, much to Greg's offense.

"No! Stop! Ant! Anthony!"

"Oh yeah?!" He smiled, tucking him in his elbow, rubbing his knuckles on his brother's hair. Gregory was pulling away from him, screeching in embarrassment. "Stop! I'm not a kid anymore!"

He offered mercy and let him go. Anthony sat back on his chair and slightly pushed his shoulders. "You will always be a little squirt to me."

"You are insufferable." Greg scoffed at him, swiping a palm on his hair.

Anthony laughed, tousling his hair again.

"I see why Kate is always annoyed at you."

At the mention of her name, Anthony glanced at her again. She was listening to whatever Colin was saying, nodding, an easy expression on her face.

"Why do you hate her anyway?" Pressed his youngest brother.

Beside him, Simon snorted, coughing his drink.

"I do not hate her." He answered, all the while glaring at Simon.

"Well, you're always arguing with her." Greg pointed out, his gaze was accusatory and demanding. It reminded him of, well, him, whenever he gets disappointed with one of his siblings. It felt like the roles were reversed now. And Anthony didn't like it one bit.

"I do not hate her." He said softly, truthfully, apologetically.

That seemed to perk his brother up, his dimples showing and he leaned against him again. "Good. Cause we love her. Especially when she's like that." Greg tilted his chin to indicate his reasoning.

Anthony indulged himself once again. Kate was still in that high-spirited disposition, talking with her exaggerated gestures and imbibing another glass of wine.

"She doesn't seem to have a headache anymore."

"Headache?" He worried.

"A while ago, she was complaining about it so Colin gave her his pill-case."

Pill case? He felt his hackles rising. "What?"

"You know the one he always carry? The tiny purple pouch he always tries to hide from me, Hy and Mum—"

Anthony bolted upright, almost knocking his brother to the ground. "Greg, wait for mum here." He turned to Simon before Greg could utter a protest. "And you, stay with him."

He knew fratricide was illegal but Anthony still found himself pondering his options. Whether to slash his brother's car tires or wring his neck with the tie he always steals from him. Either way, the result would inevitably be Colin's demise. But halfway towards them, Daphne reached the women first. She grabbed Kate's forearm, and Kate grabbed Eloise, Eloise grabbed Penelope and they bee-lined for the door beside the make shift stage.

"No, no, no. Daph! Let her go!" If they heard him, they made no indication. Though, before Daphne disappeared behind the door, she caught his eye. The witch smirked at him and shimmied her fingers, mouthing, "Ba-bye, Ant."

Anthony would never be responsible for any crime his siblings would find themselves in tonight.

He was grumbling as he walked back to his seat. He could feel steam rising out of his ears and nose. The only consolation was his mother and youngest siblings had left, leaving Benedict and Colin to his evil clutches. His mother didn't have to know how he had thwacked Colin's balls, making him bend over. Or how he had mercilessly bullied Benedict.

"Ow! Bloody—" Colin wailed, knees tucked up, cupping his hands between his legs. "What the hell is that for?"

"Why are you yapping about handing drugs to Kate? Here? Of all places?" He hissed, his voice low and threatening.

"She… She insisted! Besides, it was… It was him who told her in the first place!" He pointed an accusatory finger at a wheezing Benedict.

"Oi! You are such a tattle—"

Before Benedict could get away Anthony had thwacked him at the same place. Benedict's hand slid down Anthony's arm and down on the floor, groaning in agony, his face a beet red.

"God... God damn it Anthony! You can't just—"

"I can." He smirked, satisfied at seeing his brothers squirming on the floor. "You cannot tell me what to do. I'm older."

"And I'm.. I'm taller….Bloody fucking hell, it burns." Benedict heaved, cuing the genuine smile and satisfaction on Anthony's face. On his way back to their seats, he passed by Simon who was shaking his head, muttering, "You are all imbeciles."

Daphne appeared on stage, greeting what's left of the crowd. They were mostly their acquaintances from White's. Anthony had to physically stop himself from rolling his eyes when Simon clapped and whistled after Daphne finished. He wanted to thwack him over the head as well.

Penelope was up first, looking beautiful in the same yellow dress she had been wearing all night. Anthony had to push Colin's mouth close and nudged him to place his bid.

Two ladies came afterwards before Sophie. Another gentleman, Sophie's co-worker, was bidding against an already angsty Benedict. Anthony elbowed him, dropping an empty cheque on his lap. The smile on his brother's face reminded him of when Ben was six and Anthony was still the center of his world. Benedict stood up, placing the highest bid yet. He pumped his fist when he won and held Anthony's face, placed a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

"Ant, if I'm ever rude to you again,—"

"Get off me, you fatwit." But couldn't help the wry adoration in his voice.

Next was Eloise who had stolen Daphne's microphone. She belted out how archaic, demeaning, degrading, shallow the program was. She proceeded to lecture everyone about the history of feminism, shoving Daphne aside, arms flailing uselessly around her. Benedict hung his head backwards, closed eyes up on the ceiling. Colin groaned, "Must she always be so… her?"

Anthony had always admired his sister's her irrepressible personality. Plus, her bluntness and strong, radical conviction. Perhaps, she might even be the smartest of them all. He surmised that he should tell that to her more often, despite the dire consequences.

That was why, when Daphne finally managed to snatch the microphone back, clinching Eloise's forearm in a deadly grip lest she ran offstage, Daphne asked the audience who would start the bidding. Anthony offered first.

But he regretted it immediately, seeing Eloise's embarrassment growing in her eyes. To others, it must've looked like a pitiful attempt to save his sister from further mortification of having no one bid for her.

He felt like someone had sucker punched him. Once again, he felt like he'd failed her somehow. As taxing and handful as she was, he loved Eloise. She was still his sister and he couldn't bear to see her hurt or humiliated.

But a confident voice rose from the silent and stunned crowd, and he almost melted with relief.

However, said relief was short-lived. He turned to see a scholarly-looking chap raising his paddle. His unwavering attention on stage… On her sister. Anthony fought the protective streak to knock the bloke's teeth right off. But when he glanced over his brothers, he felt his hostility justified. Benedict and Colin was sharing the same dense yet hateful look.

"What in the ruddy— who the fuck is that?" Benedict huffed. Of all their siblings, he knew Benedict was, ill-advisedly, more overly protective of Eloise than their other sisters. His head swiveled back and forth towards the pair. An angry scowl staining his usually calm, kind facade.

No one seemed to know him but Eloise must have, because her mouth dropped and…God help them all… Is she… Is she blushing?

"Ant, do something!" Colin urged but sounded less distraught than Benedict.

Another gentleman in the crowd joined and Anthony half-heartedly threw a couple of bids, at Benedict's behest mostly. His brother's fingers clutched his pamphlet, tearing the helpless paper. Anthony almost wanted to laugh. But he figured that if it was Hyacinth, he'd be the same. But this was Eloise. She had never met anyone— let alone a man— she couldn't tackle. (Not that his Hyacinth, or his other sisters wouldn't be able to handle men; Anthony knew they could disintegrate anyone in their path. Anthony prayed it won't be for another decade for Hyacinth. Daphne was far long gone. Francesca was well on her way.)

Everything was shut down by the man, who had garnered the highest bid of the night at three- hundred eighty thousand. Eloise almost fainted, a smiling yet surprised Daphne catching her. Colin looked like he was about to puke while Benedict was livid.

"Come, Col. Let's have a nice chat with our new friend."

"You coming, Simon?" Colin asked with a less determined tone than Benedict.

Simon, who Anthony knew had been watching them with amused expression, slapped his knees as he got up. "Yeah, alright. What the hell."

Anthony sat alone, leg bouncing in anxiousness as he waited for Kate's turn. Another three ladies came next until it was her.

"Oh! This is exciting!" Daphne enthused from the front, calling his attention once again. "We only have one lady left. Eligible ladies and gentlemen, it is my greatest honor to present, Miss Kate Sharma. Who would be the lucky guy or gal to take her out on a…" Daphne opened an envelope and read. "- A romantic date to the opera at Royal Albert Hall, followed by a candlelit dinner at the queen's palace."

Kate emerged from behind the curtains, almost tumbling out. She giggled at her clumsiness. Anthony saw how blown and unfocused her eyes were, how whimsical and drunk she looked. He reckoned she had no idea what's happening around her. But at least, she can stand on her own, that was a relief. However, it didn't dissuade his ambition to beat the living daylights out of Colin. Or Benedict. Hell, both of his brothers.

Her dark, onyx eyes scanned the room, before it landed on his. Then, to his utter surprise, she beamed. Her eyes crinkled at the corners. Her features softened and he felt that insidious stab of something in his chest again. That tingling, light headed feeling, making its way to every nerve in his body.

Although, Anthony was certain that her glee had nothing to with him, but to whatever drug Colin gave her. And yet still, he basked in the genuineness and warmth of it. He thought it was a revelation from the grimace in her features whenever she'd see him.

"Good evening!" She blurted out. Daphne rushed towards her, smiling and mumbling something to her. Kate raised her finger on her lips, smothering another chuckle. She nodded, shushing herself. "Right, right. Quiet. Sorry."

Despite his worry for her, Anthony had to smile.

"Now, who's to begin?" Daphne addressed the crowd.

Somewhere from the room, someone shouted. "Eighty."

Anthony snapped his head and saw Dorset, wooden paddle hefted. He scoffed, it was startlingly obvious that Kate was worth much, much more than that thrifty start. But Anthony had to follow the program's rules.

Anthony glared before declaring himself. "Ninety."

"Ninety-five."

"One-hundred."

"One-hundred five." Dorset opposed.

"One hundred ten."

Daphne couldn't even get a word in, as he and Dorset exchanged values for the few next minutes. He glanced at Kate who was now looking at him with that familiar ardor and intensity. The awareness in them alighting slowly. Anthony had always found Dorset a pleasant fellow. He had shared a few drinks with him at the pub, had the same friends as him, had attended sport matches together. He wondered if this would be the end of their cordiality. But as he studied Dorset looking at Kate with a curious, impressed gaze, he figured that he will not regret not seeing Dorset anymore. In fact, he'll be looking forward to it.

"Two-ten."

"Two-fifteen." Anthony countered.

"Two- fifty!" A new voice jeered.

He recognized it as one of his family members.

Simon.

He should have beaten him harder when he got the chance.

Anthony clenched his fists, sending another threatening look towards Simon who was standing between his brothers and the man who had bid for Eloise. Benedict's was still intent on the unnameable man. His hand clutching the man's shoulder with white knuckled-grip. Whereas Colin was stuffing hors d'oeuvre one after the other.

"Two- fifty-five!" Anthony contradicted, gritting his teeth.

"Holy shit!" Kate suddenly blurted out from the stage.

He turned to see her frowning at him in downright disapproval. Her demeanor reverting to a slight normalcy. And Anthony felt everything was right in the world again.

"Two- fifty-five! For Anthony!" cheered Daphne. "Can I hear Two-hundred sixty?"

Anthony observed Dorset who was chuckling, shaking his head. The man then nodded at him and raised his palms in good sportsmanship, as if to say, 'I give up.'

"Going once… Going twice…" Daphne stalled. "I'm going to end the bidding for Two- fifty-five… Two fifty five? Anyone? "

Anthony had to send her another murderous glare.

"Alright." Daphne smiled, that treacherous, all-knowing Bridgerton smile and dropped the gavel. He might just let every misconduct his sweet baby sister had ever committed, pass.

He was grinning now, and as morbid as it sounded, he could dance. And the fact that Kate was clenching her jaw so hard it made her features more refined. Her captivating brown eyes narrowed on him with barely stifled wrath and it undoubtedly contributed to his joy.