A/N: Thanks for all the support, all you lovely readers and followers! Please find the next installment below. Bit of a filler this time :)
"Has anyone read what Lady Whistledown has written of late" Eloise asked, frustration seeping from her words. She sat slumped at the sofa, Iris opposite, gently pulling a needle through a handkerchief she was embroidering. Hyacinth turned and fixed Eloise with a glare, responding scathingly, "should anyone pay any heed to what Lady Whistledown has written of late? I certainly do not."
Iris smiled at the youngest Bridgerton as Daphne began pacing, her arms shaking with anger. Turning to Lady Bridgerton, Daphne approached slowly. "Mama," she began, tilting her head, "perhaps we might attend the upcoming Salisbury ball this evening all by ourselves? And the Merryweather tea too?"
Iris bit her lip to smother a snigger as Lady Bridgerton leaned forward in her seat sadly. "I believe that Anthony has already replied on our behalf, dearest," she replied, fussing with a cushion cover to avoid eye contact with her daughter. "Apparently," Lady Bridgerton continued, "he has managed our social calendar through June."
Iris, who had returned to her embroidery, snapped her head back up to look at Lady Bridgerton, shock colouring her features. This will not bode well, Iris thought to herself grimly. Sure enough, Daphne gasped, "but that is the entire season," she complained. She opened her mouth to pout further, when Eloise slid across her seat, exclaiming "Lady Whistledown has made her opinions on Iris and our dear sister's fortunes quite clear!"
"OH! Enough about Lady Whistledown!" Daphne exclaimed, her cheeks colouring with anger. Iris put her sewing down as a footman entered the room. Lady Bridgerton, Daphne, Frances and Hyacinth perked up as a caller for Daphne was announced. Thanking all angels above it had not been for her, Iris stood and moved towards the door, halting as the name of the caller was announced.
"The Lord Berbrooke."
Knowing the man had been oddly besotted with Daphne, ever since she was much younger, Iris snatched out and grabbed Hyacinth by the hand, and dragged her from the room, spouting that she needed to practise her French and maybe Iris would allow her time at the harp later if her conjugation was satisfactory.
What a strange man Lord Berbrooke is, thought Iris, as Hyacinth led her to her rooms. The day passed much the same, though Iris felt a twinge of delight that afternoon when Anthony returned to take Daphne riding and had invited her along too. "You shall protect me from my sister's ire, won't you, Iris?" he smiled mischievously. Iris had laughed and agreed, before returning to her room to change into her riding habit. While Daphne had changed into a dark blue ensemble, Iris' riding habit was a heather-grey, soft and demure. She had pinned a brooch of the iris flower to the lapel of her jacket – a gift from her father – which glimmered in the afternoon sun as the ladies mounted their horses – side-saddle, of course – Daphne's a charming, white stallion, while Iris' was a dappled, grey mare, with a calm and soothing temperament.
They rode onwards, across the pavilion in the ton, chattering about nothing in particular, while Iris enjoyed the soft breeze on her face as they ambled onwards, inclining their heads politely to acquaintances. Iris could feel Daphne struggling with wanting to confront her brother, indeed, the strong set of her shoulders as they rode was an indication that Daphne was struggling not to start shouting. Finally as they reached a quite stretch she turned on her eldest brother, eyes narrowed and gaze sharp.
"Lord Berbrooke?" she demanded softly. Anthony shook his head and sighed. He took a breath, weighing his words, "Lord Berbrooke is harmless. There will be others," he offered. Iris rode up to them both, Anthony in the centre, as Daphne shook her head.
"Lady Whistledown has all but declared me ineligible," she began forlornly, "worthy of the affections of a detestable simpleton and no-one else." She sighed sadly, before facing her brother, "tell me," she enquired seriously, "what others should ever want such damaged goods now?"
Iris smiled at Daphne sadly, "I am sure that is not the case, dearest," she offered consolingly, "You are certainly nowhere near past your prime, and I understand the pressures you face, but it is not the end for you, I am sure of it." Iris nodded once, her conviction true of the situation.
"Oh Iris, that is not true!" Daphne retorted shortly, "You are in a better situation because you have no others to take into account for any match you should desire, and you seem to have no desire for anyone, happy to remain a spinster all your life. That is not for me!" Daphne exclaimed passionately, not seeing the hurt filling Iris' eyes at the statement. Iris lowered her eyes shamefully, as Anthony's sharp intake of breath brought his sister's attention back him.
"You speak as if Lady Whistledown were to be held in higher regard than Her Majecty the Queen herself," he began indignantly, "You give far too much credit to some anonymous scribbler, Daphne and your words are unkind and unnecessary to Iris, it is most unbecoming. These musings," he continued, "are not true."
Daphne sent an apologetic glance to Iris, who had now stopped paying attention to the conversation, studying the bridle of her horse intimately, and looking at those who were walking along the pavilion.
Daphne shook her head in response to her brother. "Only, these musings are true, brother, and they are true because of you." Drawing in a deep breath, Daphne continued, eager for her brother to understand, "you have managed to scare every worthy suitor away." She squared her shoulders and face forward again, "Whistledown has merely reported it."
Anthony reached out for Iris' hand. Focussing back on the conversation, she gently nudged the horse forward to be level with Lord Bridgerton. "I am looking out for you," he explained, looking at Daphne. Turning his head to look at Iris, he waited until her eyes met his, and nodded once, "I am protecting you," he said intently. Iris flushed pink, at the intent in his face. Steeling herself, as he absolutely could not mean what she hoped he meant, he was in love with his soprano singer and that was the end of it.
"It is my duty."
Anthony had turned back to Daphne to finish his sentiment. Daphne whirled her face around to look at him, offended and positively steaming with anger. "And what of my duty?" she hissed. Iris' eyes widened in shock, she glanced around to confirm that their conversation was still private. Luckily there were only a few people around and most had ignored her outburst.
Daphne grit her teeth, before continuing, "you have no idea what it is to be a woman, Anthony. What it might feel like to have one's entire life reduced to a single moment. Iris will tell you this as well. This is all we have been raised for. This is all I am. We as women have no other value," she sighed forlornly and nodded to Iris in solidarity. Iris held back a grimace at the truth Daphne was confirming aloud to her brother. When she spoke again, her words were soft, and sad, "if I am unable to find a husband, I shall be worthless."
Anthony shook his head, and tried to make her feel better, "Daphne, you are a Bridgerton," he offered. Daphne shook her head, "it would be easier if I were not."
Iris interjected, not making eye contact with either, "Bridgerton or not, Daphne's words are true, Lord Bridgerton. I am not a Bridgerton, does that mean that your consoling words are not for me? That I will be worthless, should I not find a suitable match? Lady Whistledown has all but declared me a spinster, to be avoided like some diseased animal as it is."
Anthony turned to face her, and Iris was taken aback by the ire in his eyes. "Iris, you are not worthless," he began angrily, "anyone who says so is uncouth and ungentlemanly, and doesn't know who you are enough to see how truly beautiful you are, inside and out."
Iris nodded once, accepting his words, but could feel a well of emotion growing within her. Daphne huffed and spurred her horse onwards. Anthony watched her go, keeping pace with Iris. "Are you well?" he asked her softly. Nodding once, Iris looked on ahead, watching Daphne go.
"I have been ward to your family so long, I merely fear becoming a burden to you, my Lord Bridgerton, that is all," Iris explained. Anthony shook his head, nearing her horse. "Iris, you are not, and will never be a burden to us. We all love you dearly, you have become another sister to us all, Hyacinth and Gregory especially adore you. Anyone who would choose you and you would accept in return would be lucky to know you and love you, as I do," he smiled warmly at her, then realising what he said, quickly added "as we all do."
Iris nodded, ignoring the funny tug she felt in her chest at his correction before nudging her heel into the horse's flank and urging her to follow Daphne's horse.
"You know, I do suppose, if it were not for an overzealous mother at every corner, this time of year in the city would not be so very dreadful," The Duke of Hastings commented, drinking down the sharp, amber liquid in his glass. The club was teeming with gentleman from all over the ton, drinking, gambling and catching up, while the Duke of Hastings shared a small table with his long-time friend, Lord Bridgerton. Anthony Bridgerton was slouched comfortable in his seat and shook his head.
"Those mothers simply want the same as you, I rather think," he smirked at his friend from across the table. Raising his eyebrows, the Duke leaned back before offering "for ever last one of them to choke on their daughters' hair ribbons?"
Anthony snickered before correcting his friend. "They want for you to claim a wife, Hastings," Anthony could not believe the expressions on his friends face, when realisation dawned on him, "are you really not planning on taking your place in society when you have a dukedom?" he asked incredulously.
His friend pounced immediately, snapping back with ire, "I have a title, which, as far as I'm concerned, will end with me."
"But Hastings," Anthony began, shaking his head and showing his teeth, but the Duke interrupted him. "—Stop calling me that! It was my father's name. Never mine." The Duke lowered his glass, turning his full attention to his slouched friend, "And in any case, what of you?" he asked him, leaning forward to hear the full information on his friends situation. A blind man could see how Anthony felt about his family's ward, but also how he favoured that soprano from the theatre.
"What of me?" Anthony challenged.
"You are the firstborn Bridgerton of a firstborn Bridgerton, nine times over. Where is your wife?" he demanded. Anthony gestured to a passing waiter to refill their drinks as he popped a cigar in his mouth. The Duke decided to play with his friend a little. He leaned forward conspirationally and smirked, "is it your plan to fuck her forever? Your mistress?"
Anthony disguised his anger by leaning forward to collect his newly topped-up drink, but the Duke continued, undaunted by the expression on Anthony's face, "you shall need to sire an heir. What of the lovely Miss Edgehill, already in situ at Bridgerton house, and learning to run a household from the current Dowager-Viscountess, a ready-made wife, if you ask me," he smirked mischievously at his friend, who had sagged back, uncomfortably.
"I am in possession of something that you are not," Anthony countered, ignoring the tug at his chest at the thought of Iris, as the Duke meant to question him further, he carried on, "I have brothers." He offered a cheers before swigging down his drink again, and standing.
It has reached my ears that Mr. Colin Bridgerton shall be awarded the year's grand prize when he sweeps Miss Thompson off her pretty little slippered feet.
In other news, a most peculiar suitor for Miss Daphne Bridgerton has emerged.