"Well?"
They had just returned from the Queen's ball and since sleep was out of the question Anthony chose to deal with some matters of business when Benedict walked in his study, got himself a drink, sat down and propped his legs on the desk, pushing the ledger that Anthony worked on away from him.
"What's going on with you and the dear Diamond's dazzling sister?"
"What do you mean?" Anthony asked, avoiding the telltale throat clearing.
The situation had nearly spiraled out of control but with a few tactical moves, continuing Miss Sharma's warfare analogy, Anthony managed to save it. That was the extent to which he would allow himself to think of it for the time being. However, his brother had other plans and he looked rather determined.
"Whatever has been going on is an interesting swerve from traditional courtship, isn't it? It is so unlike traditional courtship in fact," Benedict went on, "that it tires me to simply look at you constantly fighting for her attention. Why not choose someone else? She is a really beautiful woman, a fascinating spirit and life at home will be immensely interesting with her addition but is it truly worth it? For you, personally, I mean. It is not as if you could not have your choice of bride."
"Someone else?" There was something so foreign in the thought of pursuing another woman while Miss Sharma existed. "No."
"The way you refuse to let go of her, even after that attempt to display disinterest on her part, it shows that Miss Sharma becomes too important to you, Anthony," Benedict said. "I will applaud you if you changed your mind but if you haven't-"
"Miss Sharma is important. As important as I wish her to be." It was a shaky confirmation at best, rooted at the shock from Dorset's presence that still affected him, apparently. He had been alarmed and caught himself succumbing to jealousy and irrational possessiveness. But it would pass; being emotional about it was a mistake he would not repeat. It was simply a challenge he would overcome. It had to be. "I have everything well under control."
"The principal ideas of your plan are still intact?" Benedict asked.
"What principal ideas could have possibly changed?"
"Love and your aversion to allowing it a place in your marriage, Anthony." Benedict was blunt. "Is that still what you prefer?"
"It is not a matter of preference. It is a matter of choosing rationally what I need and I do not need love in my marriage. I need what I can have in Miss Sharma. The perfect viscountess who will-"
"Yes, yes," Benedict interrupted him. "With regret I have to inform you that this dull speech doesn't improve with any number of repetitions."
"It is the truth, Benedict."
"No it is not. The truth is it is a matter of preference. You want Miss Sharma." He stopped for a while. "Not the Viscountess she can become, but the woman that she is now. You. Want. Her."
Yes, he did. Miss Sharma was the definition of desire. "What of it?"
Benedict rose from his seat. "Desire is a strange and fickle bedfellow to strict control, brother. Remember that."
"Maybe for common men. I am not them."
"Here's to uncommon men's folly, then," Benedict toasted his drink and disappeared.
Anthony pulled the ledger back in front of him and he would pray what Benedict had said was not true. Any of it.
Kate was in a foul mood. So foul that all morning she would move from room to room, arguing over every little thing and finding nothing acceptable to her standards. The post delivery was too slow that morning, the ink was drying too quickly, the tea was a vile concoction.
Lady Danbury seemed amused by that endless list of complaints and quietly enjoyed her lunch. Her mama on the other hand was a lot less patient with her. "Kate," she told her. "Go for a ride, dearest. It usually helps you."
"The park is a good idea, didi," Edwina said, hiding her sweet smile behind her cup. Now that her debut went smoothly and her greatest worry was quieted, she was in high spirits and entertained herself at Kate's expense. Who could blame her? It was too good a jest! Kate, riding at the park where that infernal man was probably stationed to ambush her.
"Oh, I could ride to the moon and back and still have enough steam to power a locomotive." On every syllable she imagined herself, destroying the bouquets she had been presented with, tearing the buds from the stems with her nails, but she did not. Instead she tapped her fingertips on the card in a fast tempo.
For Miss Sharma,
Expectantly,
Viscount Anthony Bridgerton
It wasn't the reminder of the dinner or the presumptuous beckoning. It wasn't that tantalizing word or the fact that he was certain that one word would be enough. It wasn't even the ridiculous amount of bouquets he had the florist deliver to the Danbury house -a draft had been caused in the time it took the footmen to bring them all in- earlier that day. No. It was his choice of a flower.
Lilies.
A frank statement. A bold move that Kate feared would lead to her associating her favorite scent with him.
"Flowers usually improve a woman's spirits, Miss Sharma." Lady Danbury said. "Especially after a ball."
Kate chose not to explain why her reaction wasn't so unfathomable and left the lunch table to follow her mama's advice. As she prepared for her ride her mood did not improve. The delivery of Lady Whistledown's paper interrupted her exit. She paused at the foyer to skim the column as it occasionally made her smile with how easily everyone was bedeviled over other people's private concerns. That morning though it failed to amuse her. She barged in the drawing room like a bull in a china shop.
"Read this," she demanded, giving the paper to Edwina who did as she was told.
Dear gentle reader
This author is still recovering from last night's festivities. True to her word, the Queen offered us grand entertainment. Spectacle and gossip were in abundance at her ball.
And while a lot can be said about the many first signs of attachment -enthusiastic or cautious- that appeared to form between certain ladies and their potential suitors, the excitement that had been bred finally reached its peak; the ton has its new Diamond.
Miss Edwina Sharma charmed the Queen in such a manner that a second look was rendered unnecessary. Within minutes of her arrival the young lady got the royal seal of approval, much to her own as well as her family's unadulterated delight.
The young lady has a lot to recommend her. Lady Mary was the incomparable of her season after all and it might be no surprise that her daughter follows into the dainty steps of her mother. But what do we know of her? A gamble with a newcomer to our city and society or a tactical decision by the Queen?
"Kate, it is not so bad. I am a newcomer-"
"Read on," Kate urged her.
In any case this author reassures you that the eligible bachelors seem to agree with her Majesty. It is no secret that Miss Edwina has been accepting gentleman callers around the clock at the Danbury residence, but the number of gentlemen who had to be disappointed last night because they had not secured a dance with her was quite striking indeed.
In the weeks to come, there will be plenty of opportunities to see how finely she will prosper in our midst with such a heavy responsibility, bestowed to her by The Crown.
Edwina sighed, still unconcerned. "There seems to be a mountain of expectations along with her praise but you have taught me well-"
"Read on," Kate repeated.
One hopes, however, that one will have the pleasure to see more of the Belle of the Ball; Miss Sharma, the eldest. This author will not give the name of the gentleman who named her so but will admit to have noticed what an intriguing Belle, Miss Sharma is proving to be.
"Well, you were lovely last night. I told you, didi!" Edwina said with a smile but when Kate opened her mouth she frowned. "I should probably read on."
Not only did she dance twice with Mr Thomas Dorset, an acquaintance that is moving steadily according to one's sources, Miss Sharma was entertained by Mr Benedict Bridgerton for the duration of two dances, sharing with him a comfortable ease but no sparkle, before she danced with his Grace, the Duke of Hastings. Of course, given the fact that the Duke's godmother is the sponsor of the Sharma ladies, his intentions towards her are rather fraternal.
The same cannot be said for the Viscount Bridgerton who was next to enjoy a lively set with her and who definitely contended to be a suitor of hers. The two of them looked quite handsome together and it was as compelling watching them dance as it was watching them talk because apparently they had a lot to say to one another. Oblivious to all others around them, their goodbye after only one dance was certainly promising enough. Especially because neither danced with anyone else after that. Even though we were deprived of a second dance that would have cleared matters more, this author has it on good authority that a dinner has been arranged between the two families at the Bridgerton House the day after the ball.
Today, for those who have not been paying proper attention.
If we are quiet enough we might be able to hear the Viscount's toast…
Lady Whistledown
"Loathsome subpar writer!"
"Didi, you used to like her column-"
"Those days belong irrevocably to the past."
How did that odious woman behind that bizarre name find out about the dinner, Kate would never guess. If she didn't know that the Viscount would not welcome such attention on his own affairs she would have suspected him as the one liable for the circulation of the information to make sure she could not escape it.
"As I said, I am not unprepared for-"
"Yes, bon. You will be a success regardless of what they say. How could you not be?" Edwina was perfection personified, Kate was not. "But me? Lady Whistledown called me The Belle of the Ball; it will follow me everywhere I go. It will be a nightmare."
"A gentleman called you so, says the paper." Lady Danbury corrected her. "Not Lady Whistledown herself."
"And why shouldn't he?" her mama said proudly. "You were lovely last night, dearest. Just as Edwina said."
While flattery was the stuff of dreams for any young woman -Kate was not entirely immune to it- all it took was a malicious comment about her age and the compliment would turn to mockery. A Bell of the ball? That old spinster? Kate wasn't entirely immune to that either.
"And what if people assume that I sought to overshadow Edwina?"
"If that atrocious lie passes anyone's lips, I will make sure to correct those people, on the nature of your character." Her mama replied. "We have nothing to fear or hide."
"What if people will think there is some truth in those false observations about the viscount being my suitor?"
Lady Danbury grinned widely. "It will be forgotten, Miss Sharma. By the next issue, another couple from another ball will emerge to excite our imaginations." She took a rather long sip and then went on. "Unless you will choose to respond to his pursuit in some manner." She ended her reply with a leading comment.
Kate wanted to make a dramatic declaration about her intention to stop any such speculation but feared that it would not be so easily done. Best to wait and gloat after the triumph. "I only hope that the viscount hates this as much as I do."
"In truth the viscount has little patience for her intrusive observations. This," Lady Danbury said, hiding another mischievous grin. "I would imagine it will please him."
"Anthony."
His mother walked in the study with a paper in her hands. She rarely performed the task of delivering his mail unless it was important. When she closed the door behind her, he knew it was.
Lady Whisteldown's scandal sheet was particularly interested in his family. Again. The previous unsavory mention to him was hidden in his drawer.
Rake with capital R.
Many times he had been tempted to find every last issue that had been sold and burn them all in a glorious pyre in Grosvenor square.
On the paper before him, Lady Whistledown's typical nonsense was printed, albeit a little quicker than he had thought. The one true positive view from it was that Whistledown seemed to be more inclined to refer to Anthony as a suitor for Miss Sharma, leaving Dorset with the unfavorable characterization of a mere acquaintance, which would keep others away too.
"You did look great together, dearest."
Even Thomas Dorset appeared to have noticed the shift in the dynamic. When one was entering the smoking room the other was exiting it and the look they exchanged said it all. Nervous vexation from Dorset as he nodded, agitating confidence from Anthony as he nodded back. It was so gratifying that Anthony actually forgot to punch him, without ruling it out.
"With a little luck and a lot of care, tonight will be a success," his mother kept speaking.
"I suppose you came with advice."
"Do not make any comments about what Whistledown wrote."
"Do you frequently catch me quoting her?"
"As your mother, I know you would wear that paper fashioned as a hat, to advertise the favorable remarks. Perhaps, you would even plant it beneath a napkin for Miss Sharma to find?"
It was a great idea, but Miss Sharma would not appreciate it. She would likely pick up the carafe and douse him with the exceptionally decanted wine, instead of smiling amicably so Anthony promised his mother he wouldn't provoke his guest's anger. The flowers he sent were enough.
"Now that their arrival has been advertised, I predict that Lady Featherington has already chosen a good spot at her windows to watch them coming," his mother commented. "The other neighbors as well."
"Let them, mother."
A few hours later the Sharmas, led by Lady Danbury, arrived. After last night's eventful encounter Anthony had decided to limit any contact with Miss Sharma to verbal one. At least in the beginning, to ease her into the family night he hoped to spend with her but the lady was concentrating on allowing the most basic pleasantries which were pleasant in name only when directed at him.
When she was looking away, which was more often than not since she appeared determined to ignore him, he would smile to himself because she was making a marvelous job of it and he indulged her by being courteously ignored. It gave him another opportunity to marvel at her while she looked gorgeous in her moss green gown and his eyes surveyed her so intently that he even spotted a few creases around her hips that he would have liked to smooth with his palm. Or better yet get her in a dark corridor and crease the silk gown even more.
Benedict's words about desire and control echoed in his head. It will not do.
An exclamation from Eloise caught his attention. His sister was fascinated by Miss Edwina's ability to maintain an interested and composed expression at all times. For a while she followed the younger Sharma who was discussing with Francesca, in order to discern her secrets. Benedict and Colin were following Eloise to make sure she wouldn't scare Miss Edwina. The Duke and the Duchess were being interrogated by Lady Danbury on the conditions of their happiness and Anthony was busy with Hyacinth, Gregory and the invitation the Duke had carelessly extended to them without Anthony's permission.
"Why can't we go to Clyvedon, brother?"
"Because soon we will be leaving for Aubrey Hall, Hy. You know that. The whole family will be there. Including Daphne and our nephew. Don't you want to spend time with Augie?"
The children's faces did not express any particular interest in their infant nephew. Not if they could explore the vast estate their brother-in–law ruled.
"If you will have Daphne with you, can't one of us go and stay at Clyvedon for a while with Simon?" Hyacinth asked innocently. "He says he will have new horses in his stables and I really wish to ride them."
"Oh, you mean yourself, of course?" Gregory did not like the idea. "If she goes I will go too."
"No one will go to Clyvedon," Anthony stated his decision. "His Grace will be joining us too, after all."
"No, he is not," Hyacinth disagreed. "He said he had to be there to receive the horses."
"Ah, his plans just changed." They looked at him confused. "Why don't you both go tell him? And come back to give me his response."
Anthony focused his attention back to their guests. Lady Mary and his mother were having a conversation, overseen by a silent and skeptical Miss Sharma. Lady Mary seemed to have shed some of the insecurities that burdened her and Miss Sharma, who did not leave her side all evening, often looked surprised by her mother's fresh attitude.
Simply by watching the two Sharma women no one could have understood that Miss Sharma wasn't Lady Mary's daughter by birth. Not because of any resemblance between them, but their bond. It seemed so natural, so heartfelt. Looking after her younger sister was admirable, but if Miss Sharma cared so deeply for her step mother as it was obvious she did, it really spoke of a spirit of rare generosity, more than the strong sense of duty he had identified. It made Anthony more confident in his decision that Miss Sharma was the one to help him take care of his family too. A look around the room reminded him that there was nothing more important than that.
Kate got dizzy from the speed with which Miss Hyacinth and Master Gregory were arguing about who was the fastest rider, who was the first who managed to ride without a saddle or the best with hurdles, among other important accomplishments they could think of.
A lively conversation between the Duke and the viscount caught their attention. Their names were mentioned too many times for them to ignore the call.
"How do you enjoy the Season so far, Miss Sharma?" The Duchess provided a good respite from the demanding Bridgertons who were as loud as they were tiny.
"It is busy, your Grace, as I am sure you know."
"Well, you have one of the best guides the ton has to offer. Lady Danbury is the most capable person to help you navigate the deep and murky waters of the marriage mart."
"And avoid the great beast below?" She felt her gaze falling keenly on the viscount. While he appeared preoccupied, trying to assert dominance over his younger siblings, out of the corner of her eye Kate saw that the Duchess's gaze was focused on her.
"I will try to help Eloise in any way that I can, but I feel that my efforts will not be met with success."
Kate remembered the conversation from the afternoon tea. "Miss Bridgerton seems unwilling to enjoy her season in any conventional manner."
"Indeed. It makes sense, I think," replied the Duchess. "During my season, she thanked me for being perfect so that she didn't have to be. I had never felt so misunderstood."
Kate let her confusion show.
"I was far from perfect, Miss Sharma." Daphne Basset explained. "I was insecure and worried and snorted in front of a Duke so if I can give you some advice is this; do not pressure Miss Edwina with an idealistic notion of perfection. She will find her way and her love. My mother told me to marry my best friend. In retrospect that is better than any scheme one might think to try."
The Graces' love match was the standard of happiness and success her sister hoped and endeavored for. "She will be most pleased with the advice."
"I am glad." The Duchess smiled and then she shared a brief look with the Duke; one that married couples often used to silently communicate. If Kate wasn't grossly mistaken, a nod by the Duchess was the response to a slight tilt of the Duke's head towards the viscount.
"Apart from Eloise, I also have to support my older brothers when they choose to marry. My mother has, not very discreetly if I am honest, extracted the promise that I will help her." It wasn't a rare craft, but the Duchess seemed quite proficient at it, easing Kate to a specific brother's journey to matrimony. "So while I adore my family, in this instant I do envy you for having only one sister!"
Kate could not respond curtly to the challenge, but she would not let the apparent effort be so apparently effortless. "I did meet Mr Benedict Bridgerton last night and I would say that apart from the good looks he has been gifted with, he seems very amiable and kind. You should not find trouble marrying him off once you have clarified a few rules of dancing etiquette to him."
Daphne Basset hid a smile of admiration. "And if we can keep Colin in the country long enough, he will easily find his bride. I do not worry about him."
"One can hope that Mister Gregory Bridgerton will be just as sweet as a grown man and gentleman as he is today." Dimples and soft curls; the boy was the sweetest menace Kate had seen. It made her wonder if all Bridgerton men were just as cute during their childhood. For a split second a little boy with the viscount's hair and her eyes was smiling at her. Was that the evolution of the previous night's dreams? The thought scared her, but she would fight it. "For now your task is arduous indeed, your Grace." This time Kate knowingly let the Duchess follow her gaze to the eldest Bridgerton. The least easily defensible of them all.
"You have made the viscount's acquaintance, Miss Sharma." She smiled again. "Anthony is a challenge for most who meet him and a revelation for those few who get to know him. I would advise you to do the latter." Her sincerity wasn't easily rebutted.
Kate let out a small sigh, feeling the impact of the words she was about to speak. "He seems resistant to any other outcome."
"I have often found myself admiring his persistence." It was cryptic the way the Duchess said it, giving the impression that she might not always appreciate his tenacity, perhaps even be exasperated by it. "But with Anthony I have learned to expect the biggest changes from the most constant person I have known. I rather look forward to the next one."
With that she left Kate to her thoughts.
Such change would be impressive, Kate thought. A smaller part of her whispered that it could be true. Lord Bridgerton used cold logic in his life but one cannot deny that Anthony Bridgerton felt too and felt deeply. One look around the room was proof enough; devoted, caring, protective. Especially to his youngest siblings. What else could he do, being the only father figure they knew? It was endearing to witness. Which was exactly what he wanted her to see. And yet she found no sign of performance or pretense.
When he wasn't trying to charm her he was quite charming indeed.
One might even…
It was a pity that he…
She forced those thoughts and any other thoughts those first thoughts would invite in her head away.
Charming or not, the viscount was none business of hers.
Was he?
"What do you want?" Anthony asked, walking to her. There were irresistible masks of confusion and bewilderment passing from her face and he had to know what she was thinking.
"What I have wanted since I met you, my lord," she replied dryly. "For you to leave me alone."
"You could not have made that any clearer if you had burned the message on my arm with hot iron. What I am asking is what you came to England to do?"
He waited for her to speak, but she simply shifted her weight on her other leg and gave him a side glance. Without a word she walked to the closest seat. Unluckily for her it was close to another available seat which now Anthony occupied. Her dark eyebrows shot upward at his audacity. When she realized that he would not leave she frowned.
"Indulge me, Miss Sharma." He readied himself for a snide remark but was surprised with the truth.
"I want to help my sister find a husband."
"Let me be useful to you, then."
"When would you find the time? Don't you have a bride to find, my lord?"
She meant that the two were mutually exclusive. Delightful approach.
"I am able and willing to help you because you matter to me. You are a priority of mine."
Miss Sharma laughed at the word which she repeated incredulously. "A priority?"
"Among other things, that I can begin listing but you so often object to the impropriety of the things I say…" He would have moved his hand to brush against her knee but her mother's eyes were on them.
"Lord Bridgerton…"
"Fine. I will be a gentleman," he promised. "Just to prove to you that I can be." He managed to get a genuine smile. "To the matter at hand. I know these men you are considering for your sister, Miss Sharma. Their weaknesses, their faults, their merits such as they are. I went to school with some of them." That was as clear an innuendo for Dorset as he could muster to get another reaction, but she had adjusted her mask to one unreflective of her emotions and thoughts. "Nowadays, I play cards with them when I don't do business with them." Anthony continued. "Every other night I get bored with them or by them. In short I can help you make a list of the ones that show more promise."
"I already have a list like that." Of course she had. Miss Sharma couldn't have been more perfect if he had created her himself. "Debretts is a fountain of information and useful details. Lady Danbury, a walking Debretts if you like, contributed to my research with anything that cannot be found in public sources."
"I can imagine. The names are in order of decreasing preference?"
A sharp side glance told him that his guess was correct.
"Just out of curiosity," she said, "how do you imagine you can help me?"
"Invaluable experience," he explained. "Last year I helped my sister avoid a gambler and a liar."
"You also arranged for her to marry Nigel Burbrooke. How do you defend that choice?"
How on Earth did that become known to Miss Sharma? "It was a severe error in judgment and a hard lesson learned. Believe me." However he could not not ask. "Did the Duchess mention that?"
She gave him another side glance; this time with divine deviltry in it. "The Duchess was very careful in not saying anything that would not recommend you. Quite the contrary."
"Hmm," He would have liked to believe that.
"She did not disagree with my comments, though."
That sounded more like his sister.
"But I would appreciate your notes on the eligible bachelors. How soon can I expect the note with all the relevant information?"
"A note?" he blurted out. "You do not wish to do it in person?"
"I see no reason for that. Do you have good penmanship?" she asked unironically. "I know many lords often scribe as though they hide directions to a treasure from prying eyes."
A letter his lady wished? Scrolls she would receive. "I have excellent penmanship," he replied, daring a fiercer look. "You will be reading that letter to your old age, Miss Sharma. I can picture you in that same chair you now occupy, gray haired and gorgeous, reading it and telling me that you still marvel at my handwriting."
"My lord," she whispered, leaning forward. Her scent curled into his nostrils. The power he had gained by offering lilies to her had returned to her, unrestrained and lethal, as though he had only usurped it for a second. Blazing brown eyes captured his. "That I believe is what learned people call wishful thinking."
The butler announced dinner but what Anthony needed was some cold air and some much colder water.
At the table Miss Sharma was unfeignedly surprised to find herself seated on his left as he sat at the head of the table. She regressed to avoiding him and addressing him only indirectly. Anthony did not feel as magnanimous as he had been earlier and never missed an opportunity to speak to her in a manner that required a response. Benedict was on her other side and Miss Sharma seemed fixated to include his brother in any conversation Anthony was trying to have with her. Her effort was commendable but Benedict was only half participating, torn between them and Eloise. She was busy sulking due to their mother's reminder that she was not excused from the next event on their social calendar if she wasn't prepared to explain the need to be absent.
On Anthony's right was the ever quiet Francesca and next to her was Gregory who seemed absorbed in annoying Hyacinth across the table, so Miss Sharma was left with no enthusiastic conversationalist, but himself.
The footman filled their glasses with wine and Anthony took a moment to appreciate the little pearl in the shape of a teardrop that rested on her collarbone against her luminous brown skin. He wanted to kiss her steady pulse beneath her jewelry. The previous night's touch as they danced was like the first bite of a delicious dessert; now he wanted to taste her skin with his fingertips.
The things that woman made him think…
But Anthony refused to accept that Benedict was right in his logic. Desire did not have to be an everlasting threat to the peaceful life he envisioned for himself. In time it could become a manageable joy. Those unchaste thoughts were taunting him only because they belonged to a sphere of mystery. Once that side of things stopped being a fantasy he would be calmer. Which meant that the wedding needed to happen very soon. The sooner the better.
She drank her wine and once again Anthony found himself unable to tear his eyes from her mouth. Another sip, another swift flick of her tongue on her lower lip, another strong sensation rippled through his body.
He needed a diversion. He needed her to disagree with him, to tell him something so aggravating that would get his brain working on something other than images of him dropping on his knees between her legs right where she was on her velvet cushioned chair mid-dinner.
Again. The things that woman made him think…
He focused on the meat on his plate; venison. He tried to remember the last time he had gone hunting for deer. He enjoyed deer hunting. As much as he enjoyed doe hunting… Stop, his mind screamed. Weather permitting, they would have to arrange a hunting trip at Aubrey Hall. Good sport for everyone.
"I wish to thank you for the lilies, my lord." Miss Sharma deigned to speak to him first after a long time.
"I am glad you liked them." He had been warned against wishful thinking so he did not presume that she mentioned the lilies only to express her thanks. Miss Sharma could be flattered and offended at the same time, by the same man. A lesser man would back away. Anthony was thrilled and curious.
"Freshly cut and wonderfully fastened into magnificent bouquets." Her comment drew near to what most women would say with a much softer smile, but Anthony waited for the rest. "I did not have the opportunity to inspect all of them, but I believe every one of the countless bouquets was indicating the intended sentiment of the sender."
"Fervent admiration, of course."
"Of course." She repeated with such a sweet annoyance in her voice. "You also attempted to establish your presence across the entire house."
It was her room he wanted to invade. "One can only hope."
"Such religious optimism. Incurable, is it?"
"As is your intransigence. Do you usually treat flowers like traps made of a spider's web?"
"Only when they are a nuisance." She glared at him. "We cannot turn in the house for tripping over them."
"That is unfortunate. If you feel that returning to Lady Danbury's house is unbearable you can always stay here." It took a moment for her to recover. "Indefinitely," he added.
"The exits are nearly blocked, but we manage."
"Patience, Miss Sharma, you may discard them before long," he suggested playfully. "Unless you will keep them as mementos. Isn't that something women do? Press a bud between the pages of a book?"
"A bud, yes." Miss Sharma agreed with a fierce smile. "An entire county's harvest? No."
Laughter rose on the other end of the table. When Anthony looked at them he found everyone sharing in the merriment. Everyone except for his mother who appeared desperate to change the subject.
"Daphne," she turned to his sister with a weak smile, "was flawless that day. Just like you were Miss Edwina," she moved to the young Sharma next, "even though it wasn't a formal presentation. Trust me, my dear-"
"No, no, mother. We cannot move on from our topic."
"Colin!" his mother called.
"No. I refuse," his brother protested with a laugh. "The viscount must explain himself!" It seemed that whatever they had been discussing was at Anthony's expense and his younger brother had more to say. "He kept echoing himself on the importance of being there for family and how badly I had organized my trip because I missed Eloise's presentation and yet he was the one who nearly missed Daphne's!"
Fuck.
It wasn't Colin's fault. He only meant to tease him. That was what their family did. Anthony had insisted on a family night that would help him ingratiate himself to Miss Sharma and teasing was an integral part of it. How could Colin know that the matter of his delayed arrival at Daphne's presentation was best left alone when Anthony made sure that no one knew of the life he had outside the big family house?
Everyone expected a reply from him so Anthony forced a smile. The footman brought the dessert. He moved to place the plate in front of Anthony and for an instant he hid him from Miss Sharma's sight, but when he left, Anthony felt her inquisitive eyes on him.
"I was fashionably delayed, brother."
It was poor, unoriginal and untrue but it sufficed.
His mother insisted on speaking about something else and her wish prevailed. Benedict, Daphne and Simon led the conversation on preferred fruit for desserts, allowing Anthony to figuratively sink in his chair.
Miss Sharma straightened the napkin on her lap, keeping her voice intentionally low. "What kept such an honorable man away from his duty?"
What could he say? A lie? No. He despised lying. Especially with Miss Sharma even his faults needed to run closer to the truth. So what were his options? An idle and frivolous dalliance from his past? Or meaningless outdoors fucking with his then mistress? God, what a glorious selection of answers.
"A mistake," he muttered.
The question mark in her eyes lingered as she nodded.
Fuck. That was not the note on which he wanted the night to end. Anything but that.
He quickly turned to Francesca for her plans to spend the rest of the summer at their aunt's. His sister very dutifully kept the pretense of an interesting conversation.
Miss Sharma was not just as hasty to turn to her other side and listen to whatever Benedict would have to say to her, but eventually she did.
Fuck.