3
Aubrey Hall
Kate had meant to pay close attention to all of the parson's words, she had, but Anthony, 9th Viscount Bridgerton and a general ass, apparently insisted on vexing her the whole way through the ceremony.
His initial expression when she had come into view, stepping between the two halves of the small wedding party—just the Duke and Duchess of Hastings, Lady Danbury, Lord and Lady Ashbourne, Lady Bridgerton, the rest of the noisy although surprisingly well-behaved-at-the-moment Bridgerton family, Lady Mary Sharma and Miss Edwina Sharma, and the parson's wife—had been quite gratifying. Anthony's mouth had fallen open and his eyes brimmed with emotion. She was sure they were too bright to have been anything but on the verge of tears, just as her own most certainly were, although the procession across the lawn with Lady Mary to give Kate away had passed without any significant missteps.
Soon enough, Kate found herself facing the man who had upended everything she had believed about who she was and who she wanted to be. A man who knew from painful experience how it felt to be thrust into a position as the head of a family when one was still so young a person, still unformed and yet required to navigate the complexities of protecting one's family in a world where the potential for ruin lay around every corner. Certainly, he had wealth to cushion some of the struggles, but the Bridgerton fortune made his family an appealing target as much as the Sharmas' genteel poverty and lack of any male protectors made them a target of a different sort. The constant worries for their families' safety were the same, as were the unrelenting demands to be resourceful and resilient, and the many years of self-sacrifice, of careful planning, of raising younger siblings who looked to them as de facto parents. In Anthony's eyes, Kate saw someone who understood.
"Dearly beloved," the parson began, "we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony; which is an honourable estate, instituted of God in the time of man's innocency, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church..."
The shared moment of understanding lasted only until the parson reached "to satisfy men's carnal lusts and appetites", and then Anthony's eyes quite deliberately drifted down to Kate's lips, then lower, and lingered. By the time he had slowly drawn back up to meet her gaze again, she was uncomfortably warm. Of course, aside from his eyes, he hadn't moved a muscle and she strongly suspected no one else—certainly not the parson, who was stood closest to them, but was intoning the words from the Book of Common Prayer at a tortuously sedate pace—had even seen what this maddening man was doing.
Kate widened her eyes in warning.
Anthony's smile turned distinctly predatory.
Kate's nostrils flared, and she wished she were close enough to step on his toes.
He was looking at her lips again, but this time, he let just the tiniest glimpse of his tongue dart out to barely wet his own.
Immediately a wholly different image of him and his tongue, his mouth planted firmly between her thighs and leaving her a wet, writhing mess, flashed into her mind, overlaying itself on the entirely proper scene before her.
She was definitely flushed now. And... suddenly she needed to shift her legs. Her undergarments were pressing uncomfortably against her, but she couldn't exactly adjust them right now. She glared at him. She was going to kill him.
His dark eyes were laughing at her!
She narrowed her gaze, jutting her chin slightly to the side, and Anthony twitched one eyebrow in challenge.
She let her lips fall open slightly and looked at his. She had no need to glance lower; his mouth was quite provoking by itself. When she judged that just enough time had passed, she inhaled a tad too much and exhaled slowly, adding a slight shake to her breath, and watched with satisfaction as his gaze fell to her purposely heaving breasts.
His face went pleasingly slack for a moment, and then he narrowed his eyes and looked back up at her, realising he'd been caught. She gave him a triumphant smirk, but when the skin around his eyes crinkled in a genuine smile, she couldn't help smiling back.
Fortunately, that was just about when the parson said to him, "Wilt thou have this Woman to thy wedded Wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?"
Anthony's face took on a genuinely serious expression as he held her gaze. "I will."
The parson turned to Kate. "Wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded Husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey him—" She purposely twitched, and Anthony smirked. "—and serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?
She remained silent, waiting until Anthony's smirk fell away and his eyes widened just slightly, and then she said, with complete seriousness, "I will."
He relaxed but shifted his jaw, not breaking his gaze from hers.
You started this, she insisted.
He blinked, warm amusement pulling at the corners of his mouth. I did.
"Who giveth this Woman to be married to this Man?" the parson asked.
"I do," Mary said solemnly, and Kate looked at her with gratitude. Blinking rapidly, Mary nodded and smiled through her happy tears. Kate twisted to look back at where Edwina stood as her maid of honour, positively beaming. Their twin smiles were so beautiful! Kate pressed her lips together, willing herself not to cry.
Finally, Kate returned her attention to Anthony. His eyes were warm and full of approval.
"Lord Bridgerton," the parson said, again?, sounding slightly aggrieved. Kate frowned at the man.
There was a general tittering in the assembly.
Both Kate and Anthony glanced at their gathered families in annoyance.
"Anthony," his mother said, gently but firmly. "Pay attention."
Anthony immediately straightened, looked at the parson in apology, and gave him a firm nod. "Please, continue."
Kate realised the parson's eyes were twinkling as he glanced between them. "Certainly, my lord." He looked at Anthony. "You may take her hand."
Anthony reached out with his right hand, and Kate met him with her left. This is the beginning of us never having to let go, she thought. He smiled, his expression one of deep contentment, and she blinked as a kind of shaky joy made her limbs feel weak. Then she blew out a breath and swallowed, steadying herself.
"I, Anthony Edward Bridgerton, take thee, Kather—" The parson blinked.
"Kathani," Anthony murmured, not looking away from Kate.
"Kathani," the parson echoed quietly. "I beg your pardon."
Kate murmured some wordless assent, her eyes fixed on Anthony as she blinked back a rush of warmth. He smiled, but it was one of his serious smiles, where there was no humour in his eyes, just a firm determination.
The parson started again. "I, Anthony Edward Bridgerton, take thee, Kathani Sharma, to my wedded Wife, to have and to hold from this day forward."
Anthony drew in a deep breath and she could feel the slight tremble in his frame as he let it out. She squeezed his hand, watching emotion rise in his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was thick. "I, Anthony Edward Bridgerton, take thee, Kathani Sharma—" The way he caressed the syllables made her smile. "—to my wedded Wife, to have and to hold from this day forward."
"...for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health..."
He echoed the parson's words, but then something came into Anthony's eyes and Kate tilted her head in warning.
"...to love and to cherish," the parson was saying, "till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth."
Anthony smiled. There was something dangerous in it, she thought.
Then all she could do was stare, because he lowered himself, kneeling before her. Not just one knee. Both knees. Tugging on her hand, he drew her a step closer, enough to take her one hand in both of his and bring his forehead briefly against her gloved knuckles. She felt, rather than heard, the surprise of all those gathered around. She didn't remember this being a part of what had been rehearsed. Admittedly, they'd not gone through all the details of the vows, but—what was he doing? What was she supposed to do?
"...to love and to cherish... and to obey and serve," Anthony said, drawing his head back to look up at her. She couldn't help but think of the last time he had been in this position with her. Despite their decidedly less clothed state at the time, the look of stunned appreciation in his gaze now was precisely the same.
Kate stared down at him, and wondered why her chest was starting to burn.
Oh. Breathing. Right.
The moment she inhaled, he smiled, then spoke, his voice clear and sober. "...till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth."
She could see that he wanted to kiss her hand; he only held himself still at the last moment.
As she swallowed, she wondered if it were possible to explode from a surfeit of emotion. Her whole frame trembled with it.
The parson shuffled and cleared his throat, apparently waiting for something, but after a long moment of nothing happening, he finally muttered, "Right." under his breath and Kate watched Anthony suppress a giggle. She did the same.
The parson turned his attention to her. "I, Kathani Sharma, take thee, Anthony Edward Bridgerton, to my wedded Husband," he prompted.
Ah. Now there was a distinct challenge in Anthony's eyes. Kate regarded him for a moment. Then, lifting her chin, she turned to Edwina—who was staring at Kate with wide, glassy eyes—and held out the bouquet of flowers. Edwina recovered herself quickly and took the bouquet, now holding both her own and Kate's.
Gathering the fabric of her lehenga in her free hand, Kate carefully lowered herself to her knees on the grass before Anthony, relying on the firm strength of his grip to steady her. She watched with satisfaction as his challenging look was replaced by a renewed brightness in his eyes.
She offered him her free hand and he accepted, clasping it gently.
"I, Kathani Sharma," she said firmly, not looking away from him or even blinking, "take thee, Anthony Edward Bridgerton, to my wedded Husband."
The parson sounded oddly choked when he said, "...to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health..."
Kate echoed his words.
He continued: "...to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth."
She repeated it all, blinking only on the word 'death' and putting no particular emphasis on 'obey'. She said it all with matter-of-fact determination.
Benedict's legs strode into her field of vision, on Anthony's left. After a long moment, Benedict nudged him with his knee and Anthony shot a look of intense annoyance up at him.
"The ring," Benedict murmured gently, holding out the jewellery in question.
Immediately, Anthony's face cleared. He nodded, accepting the ring from his brother with an apologetic glance. Benedict just smiled at him, then at Kate, and stepped back into his place.
The parson began, "With this Ring I thee wed..."
"With this Ring I thee wed," Anthony said quietly, lifting Kate's hand and sliding the ring onto her finger. It was hers, now. She looked up at him. He was hers now. "...with my Body I thee worship..." She smiled, accepting the gift he offered, and he returned the smile sincerely, without a hint of provocation. Something in her chest squeezed as he regarded her. "...and with all my worldly Goods I thee endow."
"In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen," the parson said. "Let us pray."
As he intoned the remainder of the ceremony, Kate realised that they would soon have to stand up. When she'd knelt to face Anthony, she hadn't given a thought to the hard ground nor to the duration, only to him. Now faced with the prospect of regaining her feet, two things occurred to her: first, her knees were beginning to protest the abuse—how much longer would this parson be droning on?—and second, the front of her Amma's red silk lehenga was now probably a dreadful mess!
Anthony must have seen the panic in her eyes, for he rubbed the backs of her hands with his thumbs and gave her an apologetic look.
"...I pronounce that they be Man and Wife together, In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."
Kate looked up at the parson. Was he finally done? But her impatience softened: there was a warm amusement in the older man's eyes as he regarded them both.
He turned his attention to Anthony. "You may kiss your bride."
Anthony shuffled forward on his knees, unsuccessfully trying to hide a wince, while Kate did her absolute best not to laugh, particularly as her own knees ached in sympathy.
"I admit," he muttered, for her ears alone, as he reached up to cradle her face in his hands, "I didn't quite think this all the way through."
Her stomach shook with barely-repressed laughter. "I can see that, Lord Bridgerton."
"Yes, well, Lady Bridgerton, you're down here with me."
She grinned, slowly tilting her head to keep their noses from crashing together, gratified that his hands held her gently enough to allow her such freedom of movement. "That I am."
She reached up, grasped his lapels, and firmly pulled him in for a kiss, giggling as he huffed a laugh against her lips and the assembled crowd burst into cheers and applause. Then he shifted, taking the kiss more seriously. Then she shifted, taking the kiss even more seriously. There was a scattering of scandalised laughter around them.
"Mercy," he finally moaned against her lips, and she laughed.
"Granted." She released him. "You'll hand me up first?"
"You're certainly not going to hand me up."
"I could."
"That is entirely beside the point."
"I'll hand both of you fools up," Benedict said, suddenly standing beside them, grinning, his hands outstretched.
"The lady first," Anthony said. "I am not so infirm as to need—"
Kate stood up with Benedict's help, wincing at her stiff knees and looking down at herself in dismay. The front of her lehenga was only slightly damp, but her mouth fell open in horror at the sight of a tiny green smudge: a grass stain! Glaring at Anthony as she straightened, she pointed and announced, "This is all your fault!"
Benedict chortled. Instead of keeping his hand out for Anthony to take, he slapped his brother on the shoulder.
Anthony glared up at him and opened his mouth.
The Dowager Viscountess waded into the fray. "Are you two ever going to grow up?" she hissed.
The two brothers shared an incorrigible look, then, in unison, shook their heads.
Their mother sighed and threw up her hands, and Kate laughed. Violet took in the state of the lehenga, the smiling faces, the amused parson, and the general joy of the whole party, and relented, her face relaxing into a smile. Benedict finally gave the wincing Anthony a hand up.
"Let that teach you not to go off inventing your own ceremonies," Violet said.
"Lesson learned," Anthony replied, bending over to ruefully rub his knees while looking up at his mother. "Although I doubt anyone will forget this day."
"Yes, I can't wait to tell your children all about it," Benedict announced gleefully, rubbing his hands together. Anthony just gave him a flat look, which broke a second later when Benedict wrapped him in a hug before drawing back. "Congratulations, brother!" He looked at Kate and gave a neat bow. "Sister. Welcome to the chaos that is the Bridgerton family."
Violet had moved around Benedict to give Kate a hug. "You may call me 'Mother' now, if you wish, or 'Violet' if you don't."
"'Mother'?" Kate repeated quietly, swallowing, her eyes searching out Mary, who had come to stand nearby, surrounded by all the other members of the party, who were eager to extend their congratulations and begin ribbing the newlyweds.
Mary nodded, her eyes filled to the brim. "Go ahead."
Violet looked between them, a soft smile on her face, and when Kate met her eyes again, Kate said, "Thank you... Mother."
Violet smiled warmly. She stood back and regarded Kate and Anthony with a happy sigh, then swiped quickly at her eyes with the backs of her fingers. Sniffing, the older woman collected herself and called out, "Refreshments on the terrace! Luncheon will be served inside shortly."
Despite being swarmed by a variety of eager relations, Anthony found Kate's hand and they kept hold of one another through all the hugs and tears and exclamations of joy and jests about knees and smudged frocks. As the last of the well-wishers headed towards the terrace, Kate and Anthony were finally left alone to turn and regard one another.
Kate smiled, letting him kiss her.
"You were a beast, you know," she said.
"Yes, I suppose I was. But you didn't seem to mind."
"I was plotting how to tread on your toes."
He somehow managed to step whilst abruptly spinning her in place, and she found herself nestled against him, her back to his chest. One of his warm hands cradled the narrow band of her bare midriff, his thumb skimming just under the edge of her bodice; with his other hand, he drew the loose folds of the dupatta aside so his fingers could drift lazily along the sensitive skin of her neck, leaving her tingling. She found she rather liked it.
"Then, all things considered," he murmured, smiling against her ear as she shivered, "I'd say the ceremony went off rather well, don't you think?"
"Aside from our aching knees and my ruined dress, you mean?"
Anthony chuckled. "Sorry."
Kate turned in his arms and looked at him. "Yes. You were..."
"A complete fool?"
"Beautiful."
He blinked, his eyes filling with emotion. She kissed him gently.
"Thank you for humbling yourself before me," she said. "I hadn't thought you'd take it quite so literally."
"Oh, that was just the beginning."
"It had better be," she said, flashing him a challenge and spinning out of his arms.
"Get back here!" He swiped at her and she evaded his grasp, giggling—but only for a moment. He was too fast, his legs too long for her to get far. She shrieked when he caught her again.
"ANTHONY!" Colin bellowed, from the terrace. Only he and Violet remained outside.
"Oh, for the love of—" Anthony growled, his arms still wrapped quite firmly around Kate. He started to turn the two of them away from the house.
"What are you doing?" his mother called. "You have guests!"
"I'm not doing anything!" he shouted back. "Aside from kissing my wife!"
"There will be time enough for that later, my dear," she said, her tone brooking no argument, although she was smiling. "Compose yourself and join us. Now. We are all quite famished, and we cannot begin without the two of you."
He glared at her while Kate giggled in his arms.
"I suppose we should go inside," she said quietly.
Anthony just gave a displeased grunt as they watched his mother and brother head into the house.
Kate turned around to face him. "One more kiss now, and then you must be on your best behaviour."
"Only me?"
"I make no promises, my lord."
"Then neither do I."
They sighed into another kiss.
Anthony groaned against her lips. "All right. We must go in. You must stop."
"I must stop? You are the one who must stop!"
It was at that moment that Kate's stomach chose to growl. Loudly.
They laughed, straightening, and took a moment to tug garments into place and smooth hair. Then, with a brief, gallant bow, Anthony extended his arm. Kate bobbed a smiling curtsy and slipped her hand into place. Drawing her arm into the crook of his, Anthony led her up to the house and into the gauntlet of their family and friends.
