Two things had become quite clear.
Miss Sharma wanted to leave and Anthony would not let her go.
Ungentlemanly conduct to be sure, but the transition from the sweet surrender to a disgruntled expression was too abrupt.
Her surrender was not without stipulations.
Why? Why was she so wilfully opposed to making it easy for him? Speaking of his unsuitability due to his reputation. What utter nonsense.
"List them alphabetically, Miss Sharma, or in chronological order, I do not care. Just give me my answer."
Those eyes of hers were like burning embers, scorching his soul; to say nothing of her waspish tongue, piercing his mind.
"Need I, though?" she retorted. "Your reputation precedes you, my lord. A young woman cannot set foot in the streets of Mayfair without being bombarded with praises for the prominent Viscount Bridgerton."
"Only you would use praise as an excuse to fortify your opinion behind distasteful prejudice, Miss Sharma. I applaud you for your ingenuity."
His words were paired with the corresponding hand gesture and he watched as she bowed her head in mocked appreciation, a smirk curling the corner of her mouth. Their children would be little terrors.
"Distrusting any reports about the most eligible bachelor in London was a natural instinct, but praises were but one side of the coin."
"What else then?" he demanded.
Arching an eyebrow, she tilted her head towards the door for her exit.
"Rumors," he grunted. The usual mindless slander by some well-wishers who must have thought they were doing her a favor no doubt. Before Anthony would have the sources of those rumors and the tongues of those sources, he had to ask. "Is it a habit of yours to base your opinion on hearsay and rumors? Because I must say, it is rather disappointing."
Miss Sharma took offense to the insinuation. "On principle I base my opinion on what I can verify or the information I collect myself."
Oh.
Disappointment gave way to disquiet at the thought of what information she had in her possession and more importantly how that came to happen.
"A habit I did not neglect on the occasion of our first meeting." She paused, adding dramatic flair to the crossing of her arms, the clenching of her jaw. "Do you remember that morning, my lord?"
It would be merciful if any antidote could make him forget what he was almost certain she was alluding to. He only nodded and tried to keep his face stern.
"A female scent. The inexpensive kind, not associated with ladies in good society. You practically reeked of it so I must assume that you-"
"Yes," he blurted uncomfortably. "It is very clear what you must have assumed."
"Is my noticing the proof of your intimate experiences too improper?"
If Anthony had been the kind of man who let embarrassment affect him, that would be the moment his shame would peak. But even mostly untouched by timidity as he was, he still found it imprudent to discuss such matters with a respectable unmarried lady.
"I am quite learned in the ways of the world, my lord," he heard her say with profound complacency.
Hot blood surged through his body at the mere hint. Anthony both despised and despaired to know the company in which she gained such perspective. The most salacious thoughts swarmed his mind, with Miss Sharma on center stage, replacing the shadow figure with himself.
"There is no danger of you corrupting me, my lord," she said. Probably just because she thought she could.
Had she not noticed how ravenous he looked as he was trying to picture how to best tear through her velvet riding clothes and beneath that through the delicate silks which wrapped her body? Had she not noticed that she was so damnably close to forgetting once and for all that she believed she knew about sating one's passion?
"Do not test me, Miss Sharma. I might be inclined to prove to you just how wrong you are." Anthony balled his fists to keep steady, voice pitched low, eyes dropping to her lovely mouth before flicking up to her eyes. "Now pray tell, what do you know about men with my reputation?"
To distract herself from the intensity of his stare she started fussing with her riding jacket. "I do know that men keep mistresses. When a permanent mistress is not available other services are required in certain establishments."
It was like she was reading from an educative pamphlet on carnal relations of unmarried gentlemen.
"Very learned indeed."
Anthony was once again a hairbreadth away from her. To what end he did not know. When he was advising her to be cautious, he was also guaranteeing that cautiousness was a lost cause.
"Learned enough." Her chest rose with a deep breath, her breasts nearly spilled from the bodice, kindling even more the heat between them. All he had to do was tip her chin upwards, drawing a slow, hot trail from her supple lips down the tell-tale pulse on the base of the neck that he had been longing to kiss. He knew she hungered for it too.
But she would not allow it, closing all doors and nailing boards on them to keep him out.
She retreated, leaning against the wooden panel behind her. "Learned enough, my lord, to know that what you called 'a mistake' was time spent in the intimate company of a woman. A casual partner?"
Anthony felt resigned to his inability to lie to her. Perhaps it would be better if he owned his mistakes. Perhaps he would stop paying for them.
"If I must verify that you are right on this." He inhaled sharply. "You are. Now, tell me who-"
"It was her bed you had left the day I met you? Or was that an entirely new mistake, my lord?"
"Whoever that was, it does not matter."
Anthony captured her hand. The one he had hoped to adorn with his family's heirloom. Nectar was not his only gift that evening. His mother's ring was in his pocket and he had been planning to seal the courtship. He inhaled her intoxicating scent, and knew that nothing else mattered.
"Listen to me, K-"
The first letter of her name alarmed her. Her eyes widened as though it would be a horror to allow him familiarity and an unforgivable sin for him to request it. Anthony did not press any further but he did not end the awkwardness either.
Hopelessness mingled dangerously with selfishness.
"What you hold against me is that before I met you I had a mistress and I visited brothels. That is why you want to end things."
"What else can any woman do if a man so callously admits such behavior?"
"Honesty is not callousness, Miss Sharma." A ridiculous echo from another argument.
"An admission, either way."
"You ask for the truth and I give it to you and now you condemn me for it."
"Were you expecting a reward, my lord?"
He raked his hair with his hands, unable to process that. At the club some married men spoke of their wives' discontentment on illicit affairs during the marriage. A few even shared receiving complaints about some indiscretion during the engagement and maybe courtship. Which all sounded sensible to Anthony. Even courtship was a commitment he took seriously, despite how other gentlemen did not. But no one had ever mentioned comments made about the days before the acquaintance had even begun. It was outlandish to even imagine that a well bred woman would occupy her thoughts with, let alone remark on, such things. Furthermore, it was ridiculous. Anthony ought to congratulate himself for finding the only one who would.
"Did you expect to find many men, if any, who have not laid with other women before being acquainted with you? Is that how learned you are, Miss Sharma? What else did you expect to greet you in England? Unicorns, leprechauns and fairies?"
Her anger shimmered on her quivering lips. "Do not patronize me."
"My apologies, but this naivety doesn't suit you."
"Of course you think it is imbecilic and naive." She exploded in words and gestures. "Because how could I ever dare to be offended! Members of my sex are required to guarantee our virtue, to the point we cannot enjoy a moment's freedom without chaperons breathing down our necks, but we can hardly demand the same from the members of yours."
Anthony considered her earlier declaration about having knowledge of intimate relations. To be so irritated by the restrictions women were subjected to, that knowledge had to be theoretical. It was quite absurd that in the midst of their argument Anthony found that to be the focus point of his attention. He returned to the ridiculousness of her allegations.
"Am I to single handedly defend our society's archetypical ideals because if that is the case I believe I should need my solicitor present to clear you on the fact that I did not make the rules."
"No, you merely and unjustly benefit from them without a thought for those who don't. Goodbye, my lord."
"Goodbye?" he cried, astounded. "You said your piece and now you will walk away on your high ground? Is that it? After everything that happened moments ago?"
She stopped in her tracks, a perfect Fury. "If you mean to accuse me of wanton behavior-"
"I do no such thing."
How could he? Anthony had chosen to meet her there with exactly that notion in mind.
"Miss Sharma, I simply state the fact that you experienced what it is to be attracted to someone. And you acted on it. It might not be what society would allow you but… God." He rubbed his temples to find the strength to concentrate. "What I said to you when we danced? I meant it. I wish to be the one you explore these feelings with."
"That was a mistake. They are common after all," she said pointedly. "I will not deny the effect you have on me, but will I allow it to govern my decisions?" The shake of her head was more to convince herself than for his benefit.
"No, I expect you will not." Anthony could hardly fault her for thinking she needed to protect herself. "Let me-"
"I believe you think yourself sincere, my lord, but you conceal too much for my peace of mind." It was said in a voice that brooked no argument. "I have no desire to spend the rest of my life recovering morsels of truth. It would be exhausting, don't you think?"
Yes it would be. The thought that he had been honest with her in more ways than he had been with any other outside his family and it still wasn't enough terrified him. What he needed was security and a calm environment not this.
Sharing a lifetime with someone shouldn't be so difficult.
Another thing became clear.
"At long last, Miss Sharma, I can give you what you want. I will not darken your doorstep again." Much to her credit she did not postpone the end of that farce with an attempt to have the last word. She blinked and nodded, though no relief was detected.
"Before I leave you for the last time, you need to know something to end any doubt you might still harbor." The edge in his voice was unintentional and he regretted it but he needed to share that last thing with her. "For the duration of our acquaintance there has been no other."
Miss Sharma bit her lower lip, enough to make it bleed, he thought. "What expectations do you have from such a declaration if you are saying goodbye, my lord?"
What expectation indeed? Just another complication to mull over.
"Keep it. If there is one thing you will remember from me, let this be it. From the moment I saw you there was only you."
He left the stable. He left the Danbury House. He left Miss Sharma and with her the idea of marrying someone he desired or even remotely liked. The least objectionable lady would have to do.
Kate no longer wished to ride, unless it was to leave England behind her.
From the moment I saw you there was only you.
It chimed like a clock. At the dinner table. In the drawing room. While Edwina was talking to her about the wedding. When she said goodnight to her mama. In the privacy of her bedroom.
She let out a deep breath.
From the moment I saw you there was only you.
Was.
Past tense.
Which meant that from then on there would be others. Several suitable ladies would line up, vying for the place she shortly held. Soon enough a courtship with one of them would begin and conclude to an engagement. An iron fist clenched her heart.
Kate only wished she would be spared the wedding. The announcement, the anticipation, the ceremony itself.
No.
Edwina needed to marry as soon as possible so that her departure would soon be possible. Now that the decision was made they had no time to waste. That was the new plan. Kate made a mental note to meet with Miss Lumley in order to organize everything with the utmost efficiency.
She wrote down her notes, made her lists, prepared her plans and dressed for sleep.
The echo returned louder.
From the moment I saw you there was only you.
For all the good that it would do her, she would keep that memory. It was the only one she would have.
Kate blew the candle but there would be no sleep for her.
On the next morning Anthony chastised himself for the choice to get drunk -he did not remember much, except for the fact that Hastings had carried him home. It did little to help him forget the encounter in the stable and even less to help him prepare for the next stage in his life.
He took a look in the mirror and the reflection was a poor imitation of the prominent viscount. That was the man he had to be. He had survived the loss of his father and ten years of his mother's quasi parenting. The loss of a potential wife would not undo him. Even if the woman was-
"My lord?" his valet called.
Anthony realized that he had broken his cufflink in half. He swallowed, threw the two pieces away and dismissed his valet. Some agitation was to be expected so soon after… everything. There was nothing more to it.
Determined to brave the ocean of questions from his family without specifying the reasons for the end of his courtship with… Once again he mentally tripped over the name and a faint whisper taunted him from the recesses of his mind. He used his fist to push the door of the dining room, scaring the butler as he walked in.
An uncommonly cheerful Daphne had joined them for breakfast. For the first time since their wedding, the Duke was gracing them with his presence too and Anthony could not shake the feeling that this reappearance had something to do with the previous night's events. Had he revealed anything without meaning to?
What mattered was to make the announcement. It would be a tad louder affair than he had initially planned, but it had to be done.
At the table he mumbled something close to 'good morning' and pinched a few grapes from the fruit platter before Daphne began interrogating him on the details about his riding rendezvous that she was meant to join as a chaperon.
Straight to the point. The sooner the better, he thought. Strange. That was exactly what he thought about the wedding too. In retrospect perhaps he had rushed into things and she was right to halt his plans. She was wise to be careful… And he circled back to thinking that she was by far the best candidate to be his viscountess. The most suitable and most desirable woman, born to be a viscountess. She simply did not care enough for it.
"Anthony!" his mother called urgently. "I think that's enough tea, dearest."
The footman ran to clean the mess Anthony had created by pouring tea not only in his cup, but everywhere on his side of the table, creating a small pool between his and Colin's sets of plates.
Daphne suggested going riding in two days' time and then they could return to Bassett House for tea. Anthony tried to appear calm when he thanked her for planning the day but he informed her that he was no longer interested in that courtship.
From his seat he had a perfect view of everyone. Judging by the way they were looking at him, he might have suggested they should upend their lives and leave for France amid the war.
Daphne's speechlessness bordered on incredulity. The confirmation she requested made her turn to her husband for support or some sort of explanation of the male mind. Hastings held Daphne's hand tenderly, withholding his thoughts on the matter for the time being.
The rest of them were more vocal with their reluctance to believe the end of his unusual courtship, but few of their exclamations merited a wordy response.
When? It had been the night before.
Where? He vaguely mentioned the Danbury house, without adding the detail of the stables.
Why? For that he conjured his Parliamentary skills, telling them that through the most honest conversation they had shared it gradually became apparent that ending things was the right thing to do.
Once the initial shock wore off, Benedict kept looking at the Duke who only nodded once. After that his brother shook his head, muttering into his cup. Colin was trying and failing spectacularly to silence Eloise. Gregory was pushing Hyacinth's elbow for whatever Colin and Eloise were discussing on her other side. Franscesca dared a peek at him but when Anthony caught that glance she averted her eyes.
"Well," his mother said, "these things happen."
No one believed she had nothing more to add but for the time being she would go on as if it was just another typical morning. Nothing was more typical than her eldest son, disappointing her, though. Auggie's cold was the change of subject she had chosen but Eloise had a more pressing question, demanding to know what Anthony had done to cause the rift. It did not surprise him that he was the one to be blamed as far as Eloise was concerned.
Anthony, already too tired before the sun rose in the sky, informed her that no drama had unfolded. Their different priorities did not let them continue. His sister did not seem to accept that explanation, reminding him that until that morning their priorities were identical, spending every waking hour caring for their respective families.
"What has changed?"
In between Eloise's excellent remarks, Anthony found a plausible excuse. While their shared devotion was admirable it was also an obstacle in a way he had not realized before as no thoughts for herself were included in her plans.
Eloise pursed her lips, more annoyed with him than he had seen her lately.
"And you cannot wait?"
When Benedict chose to interfere he became the target of her attack for not joining her. From that exchange Anthony learned that his siblings had repeatedly discussed his plans without any of them mentioning a word to him. Apparently his choice was considered the finest woman and he was an idiot, per Eolise's choice of word, for letting her go.
Anthony's exhaustion made him irritable and he could not help snapping at her, doubting that Eloise would grieve for the end of any courtship, when she deemed the whole idea akin to a life sentence.
Eloise admitted that she briefly considered that for some women there might be a chance in marriage, even if she would not decide that fate for herself. Evidently, she concluded, women fared better alone.
"A whiff of disagreement and if Miss Sharma will not compromise, you certainly would not." She pushed her plate away, crushing it against the glass of water. Without hiding her sarcasm she thanked him for the lesson.
"Eloise, that is quite enough," his mother said. "This development requires a level headed approach not pointed exaggerations."
She did not quite jump to his defense or at least seem to hold a different opinion.
Anthony already knew he didn't live up to their expectations. He was in fact falling rather short in most things. He was a substitute. In comparison the ninth viscount was something lesser than the eighth. The father figure, but not the father. Always the head of the family, the brother only whenever he could. As if he cherished the idea of living in that inescapable gap with the void beneath his feet. He looked around and he was sure that they did not know how much he'd rather die as an heir than receive his title in the way it occurred. They did not know and they never would. For them their own grief was more important, piling the problems, the issues, the tragedies at his doorstep to take care of. That was why he needed… her.
Then she asked Daphne to stay after breakfast. Anthony was not invited, but sensing that he was the topic of that conversation he followed them anyway.
They waited for him to explain the change of mind.
"Well, it isn't a change of heart." Daphne was adamant that he wasn't as serious in his declaration to exclude love from his life, since Miss Sharma's appearance. "There's clearly more-"
"My choice of a wife will adhere to what I need in my marriage, not the other way around, sister."
"But-"
"When we saw her at the Conservatory ball," their mother interrupted. "I informed you of Miss Sharma's wish to not enter the marriage mart along with her sister and you told me, quite enthusiastically, that you would change her mind. If you say now that she still has no plans for a match of her own, you admit that your efforts failed. What I care to know is this; why my son, who has been relentless in any other pursuit until he got the result he wanted, is willing to accept this defeat."
The lie he had used had potential traps, but Anthony hoped that his search would yield results soon and none of his former courtships would matter. "One must choose one's battles, mother. Do not fret, though. I have no intention to fail again."
"That is precisely what I fear, Anthony. The course you will follow to avoid another failure truly frightens me."
Anthony did not answer her. He bowed and left the drawing room to get on with his day. He had a list to revisit.
"What do you mean by that?"
"What could I possibly mean, Lady Danbury?"
Kate felt exasperated. Despite her many wordy refusals she was dragged to the Serpentine and instead of at least trying to enjoy the nice weather Lady Danbury insisted on her line of questions. Edwina and her mama were satisfied by a vague statement. They knew that once Kate said 'no' she had good reasons to do so and it would be in vain to persist. Her mama reminded her that her life was hers to command, undeterred by other people's expectations and Edwina promised her that she would not let anyone annoy her. But in Lady Danbury Kate had found a strong opponent in the battle for the most obstinate mind.
Kate had been under the impression that she had successfully covered any trail of that night beneath the polite mask she was wearing, but evidently the old lady was the keenest observant of human behavior. For the fifth time she repeated, "Lord Bridgerton is not my suitor. It never was a proper courtship anyway."
Lady Danbury looked at her with renewed interest once the last sentence hung between them. It was the first time that Kate had acknowledged the nature of her relationship with the viscount.
"I beg to differ on the importance of that. Neither of you would allow for a proper courtship after all." She stopped by the small dock, where couples were getting in boats for a turn in the lake. After a quick look around, checking for eavesdroppers, she turned to Kate. "Has he been more improper than what you would allow?"
"Nothing of the sort, my lady. He is a gentleman."
"That is good to know." Lady Danbury sounded genuinely relieved which made Kate drown in shame. The liberties Kate would allow the viscount if only he had not been so utterly disappointing, was a betrayal of Lady Danbury's trust. What was she thinking, risking their whole campaign for Edwina, just to feel his hands on her body? And it all was for nothing.
"Then why have you been acting as though you have taken ill since he visited you in my stables?"
Kate sighed. One blow after another. Lady Danbury's instincts were greatly assisted by her omnipresent staff, reporting to her everything.
"He came to explain and he wasn't convincing." More or less that was what had happened. The details would remain between the two interested parties.
"That is a failing indeed," she finally conceded.
It was a great deal more than that. But Kate did not offer that bit of insight on her own heart. It needed shielding from everyone, more than ever before.
"I hated to ask you as much as you hated to listen, but I needed to know. I bear great responsibility for you, you know."
Lady Danbury did not mean it only as a sponsor. It was more personal than that. It was said in friendship. At the time being, though, it was unbearable. Her lies could destroy that strong connection.
Anthony buried himself in both aspects of work; managing his estate and searching for a wife. All the appointments he needed to keep for the rest of the month were crammed in the space of a few days, while he prepared himself for a new round of interviews. The odds of a gentleman successfully reigniting an ended courtship were not in said gentleman's favor, but not every gentleman was Anthony Bridgerton.
Miss Bartlet was still a nervous creature, but she was astute enough to make Anthony think that if she was taken away from her overbearing mother, the situation would improve. But he doubted he was the man for the task. Lady Anne Fitzroy was of stout constitution, few words and fewer smiles. A blessing for many men, but Anthony did not care to find out that his household would fall into miserable silence, at least for the sake of his younger siblings and his future children. Miss Price seemed to have tempered her tendency to inexplicable cheerfulness, but right outside the drawing room door he overheard the staff gossiping about the 'need for an urgent marriage', so another visit was out of the question.
The two most promising ladies were Miss Seymour and, surprisingly, Miss Goring. Miss Seymour was a new addition to the list due to her family's late arrival in the city -by the time the Seymours had unpacked, his attention had been caught. Miss Seymour was kind and more knowledgeable than most, despite her reserved manner. As far as Miss Goring was concerned, she had reigned in her love for the harp. It still loomed in the corner of the room, but she was not attached to it, allowing time for other topics, giving the impression she had chosen to start reading.
The main problem in the whole business was that none of them was like Miss Sharma. Oh yes. By the end of the fifth day he could think of her name without coming to a complete standstill, mentally or physically, or breaking things. Now there was a tug at his spine or a twitch at the corner of his mouth and the ever powerful pierce in his mind, but he never lost control. He took pride in this progress. With some effort he'd be ready to expel all of her influence on him. His existence would soon return to the state it had been before she had galloped past him in the park.
Until such time would come, he kept unconsciously comparing them to Miss Sharma. Their answers, their reactions, the moments of silent contemplation, the devastating lack of charm… Sometimes when life slowed just enough for him to close his eyes he thought of... But no, it was a good thing that he was avoiding the thrilling sensation of gazing into a woman's eyes. Even if those eyes held the world.
"So it is between these two?" Hastings asked. What he wanted was a confirmation that the passing of days had not softened him back to the pursuit of Miss Sharma. What he meant was 'are you certain?' Hastings had made his opinion clear; Anthony should overcome whatever it was that was stopping him -never quite believing the excuse he had given to Eloise- but he did not share with Anthony if he had tried to influence his Godmother's protege towards the happy union.
Anthony, of course, would not ask.
"I believe so, yes," he mumbled in a deflated tone. There was news from a farmer about his crops that excited Anthony more and it showed.
That conversation in Lady Danbury's stable still irked him. It kept taping in his head like a leaking roof. Finally Anthony asked his brother in law whether Daphne minded his lascivious past prior to their wedding.
Hastings gave him a knowing look as if a realization dawned on him. "Daphne cared about my past. They all do, Bridgerton."
Anthony had started to believe that to be true. In any case his sister seemed to have made her peace with it. Perhaps Miss Sharma was different. Perhaps she was right in thinking of him as unsuitable. It saved them both a great suffering, but still, an irksome thought.
As if conjured to test his patience Lumley walked to their table. He immediately got to details of his schedule for the next few days, mentioning his fiancee and her family who would be guests at Lumley House the next evening, among a few other close friends.
The graceful figure of Miss Sharma appeared in his mind, radiant and irresistible, shadowed by a man hellbent on entertaining her. Her head falling back in melodious laughter, her hand slipping into her mysterious partner's palm as they moved around the room.
That was enough drinking for the evening.
At the promenade he noticed that quick Timmy had reappeared and with an unpleasant smirk on his face too. Actually, it was Miss Seymour the one who first spotted Dorset on the grass. Anthony did not have to ask her how she was acquainted with the gentleman; she informed him that they had shared a 'rather thought-provoking argument on medicinal properties of garlic' of all things. After listing the benefits of the root she turned to her quiet and unassuming self, letting Anthony stand there and wallow in jealousy and seethe undisturbed as Dorset walked to Lady Danbury's tent.
Miss Sharma seemed sulky and quiet, in contrast to the alluring air of arrogance she was known for, but gorgeous nonetheless in her lilac dress. Dorset tried this or that to make her look or listen but the more Anthony watched the scene the more it seemed that Miss Sharma's attention to the four legged fur that Anthony wished would bite Dorset's shin.
When he stopped trying to communicate his wish to the dog, Anthony wanted to study her face once again, but he met her lingering stare. There was something in that look. Something that would not let him keep his promise to never bother anymore. Anthony almost broke into a run towards her to gather her in his arms, offering a spectacle for the ton. In just that moment her gaze shifted to his left and settled on Miss Seymour, registering the meaning of the young lady's presence by his side. She snatched the leash from the maid's hand, wrapped it around her wrist and moved to the exit, leaving her party in confusion.
Anthony tore his eyes from her retreating figure, remembering every reason he had not to fantasize about her and turned to Miss Seymour who appeared to be following the same object of fascination as he did. Her cheeks were flushed and she swallowed with difficulty, complaining of a dry throat due to the heat, hiding behind her fan. Her shyness would give him a short respite but her chaperon had other ideas. Prompted by her aunt, Miss Seymour tried to make conversation but unfortunately she spoke of Miss Sharma, finishing her admiration with a whisper 'stunning' before she fell into an awkward silence.
There was no point in remaining there if neither of them were eager to make a good impression on the other.
A few days later Anthony attempted another appointment with Miss Seymour with more opportunities for refreshments that time, the gelateria. She appeared with the same meddlesome aunt but she was not alone there to pester him. Daphne and Hastings thought it a lovely idea to enjoy ice-cream as they had done during their courtship, which Anthony thought was a stomach-turning experience to bear witness to.
Miss Seymour was not engaging in conversation unless spoken to, but at least in her replies she was articulate and witty. In one of the many lulls of the conversion Daphne tried to catch his attention when a clinking sound made him turn. Miss Seymour's spoon had fallen on the marble surface of the table. He followed her eyes to the door where Miss Lumley was with Miss Sharma.
Miss Seymour showed signs of distress and for some reason, despite being indoors and having a gelato in front of her, she was flushed once again and unable to concentrate on anything else but the two women by the door.
Her aunt coughed and it alarmed her. When Miss Seymour realized that her every move and expression was being watched, kept her eyes to the bowl.
"My apologies, my lord." She stole another glance at Miss Sharma before scooping the rest of her ice-cream and gulping it down to cool herself.
Anthony felt the strong urge to leave.
They stood to depart, getting involved in a series of greetings with the attendant crowd in the store. By the moment they had reached the door, Anthony noticed an addition to the company of Miss Lumley and Miss Sharma.
Ethan Reeves.
Third son of an Earl. A man of moderate wealth, fine looks, intelligent mind and good character. An old classmate. Another one. A man who was now captivating Miss Sharma with an anecdote from their school years. Which would be just annoying if the story was not at Anthony's expense. Now it was nearly criminal.
"Ah, Bridgerton! Hastings!" Reeves smiled goodnaturedly, unaware of the murderous instincts he ignited.
Anthony tipped his head, waiting for a subtle sign from Miss Sharma. Surely he was entitled to a small nod or a hint of a smile. His expectations were dashed.
After greeting Daphne and Hastings, Miss Lumley sought to introduce Miss Seymour and her aunt to Miss Sharma and Reeves, giving all the pertinent information.
"We met at the Queen's ball," Miss Seymour whispered in regard to Miss Sharma, keeping her wide eyes on her. "How are you, Miss Sharma?"
"Very well, Miss Seymour," Miss Sharma replied politely, taken aback by Miss Seymour's nervousness. She complimented her on her gloves and then asked about her health.
Miss Seymour smiled brightly, perhaps for the first time since Anthony had met her. "Lovely," she breathed. "Just lovely."
Her introduction to Reeves was quite the opposite of lovely. Hurried and with effort, ending with both of them turning to Miss Sharma.
"Were you discussing the night trip to the woods, Reeves?" Hastings asked, leaving Daphne to divert Miss Serymour's aunt while she complained for one thing or another.
"Indeed. Remind me. Which of you was the one who ended up in the pond when we were carrying the mattresses to the forest?"
"That would be me," Anthony grunted, looking for Miss Sharma's reaction, but there was none. She wasn't even looking at him but at some spot a few inches above his head. "Everyone laughed, though and it improved the group's morale so I have no regrets."
"A man of no regrets. That is impressive, my lord," Miss Lumley remarked. Several nods in agreement followed that statement. Not from Miss Sharma.
"We were all menaces back then so I suppose it is a great feat that you remember the incident so fondly, Bridgerton." Reeves mentioned it sincerely. "But I shall explain myself, for I did not mean to cause anyone embarrassment. Miss Sharma and I have been exchanging humorous stories and it was my turn. I have run out of things to say about myself and I resorted to group efforts from our school years."
Exchanging humorous stories.
"Well you have been at it since after dinner the other day, so running out of material was only natural, Mr Reeves." Miss Lumley shook her head. "Oh my brother has the silliest ideas for dinner party games. If it hadn't been for Miss Sharma's stories from India I would have asked them to stop."
Dinner party games. The other day.
"Miss Lumley relishes the idea of pointing out the recklessness in every endeavor!" Reeves laughed and Miss Sharma joined him with a grin.
"I wouldn't say she is entirely wrong, though, Mr Reeves." Miss Sharma defended Miss Lumley which Reeves found amusing. "Half of what you narrated resulted in broken limbs."
"I beg your pardon, Miss Sharma, but who was the young miss who wanted to ride an elephant and then maneuvered on its back, ending unceremoniously on the ground?"
Anthony was certain that he would suffer a horrible toothache, by clenched his jaw with such force.
"I did land on a thick patch of leaves, so no harm was suffered, Mr Reeves."
Reeves laughed, leaning closer to her. One slip of his hand and he would be brushing Miss Sharma's arm, perhaps even hooking his wrist in the crook of her arm to pull her away.
Anthony's hand was itching for his dueling pistol.
"Do not make me regret telling you, Mr Reeves."
"I would never abide causing you regrets, Miss Sharma."
The rest of the conversation drowned in the noise Anthony's thoughts were making.
The mysterious figure from the night at the Lumley House was not a figment of his imagination. There had been a man. And that man was Ethan Reeves.
Being right in the past used to be a very satisfactory experience, Anthony thought.
He would have given his half estate for not being right just then.
Kate was not having the greatest morning, nursing a headache. The last two encounters with the viscount left her more troubled and impatient to abandon the cursed island.
That insufferable man kept looking at her as though there had been something unfinished between them. More vexingly so he was looking at her as though she was the only light all around him, stringing along that poor young woman whom he was courting, while expressing his annoyance that Kate did not stay at home and mourn his loss. Of course a woman by his side was the one thing Kate had been preparing herself for, but seeing it was an entirely different concept.
The line of potential brides that Kate had imagined consisted of several young ladies whom he had already considered before, at least according to the gossip reports. The mist cleared around Miss Seymour and Miss Goring. The two of them had received more than one visit from the viscount. So soon after telling Kate that he was the one she should explore feelings and sensations with, the viscount had already been so busy in his pursuit to get amicably engaged and married that he was perhaps a week away from proposing.
"Didi! Did you hear a word I said?" Edwina had been asking her to put on the next dress Madame Delacroix meant for them to see for the wedding. "I am so tired, didi."
The idea of sampling anything related to weddings was demanding great inner strength from her, but putting on an ivory dress with a veil was beyond her limits. "We are nothing alike, bon." It was a weak argument but it was the only one left.
"We only need to see the design, darling," her mama said. "It will be just for a few seconds. I promise."
Kate did not want to think so ungenerously of her family but she had the distinct impression that Edwina's excuse was just as fake as Kate's. By dressing her in wedding gowns, they were trying to invoke some longing for marital happiness in her, but that was not what Kate was lacking. She swallowed the rest of her rebellious thoughts and nodded just to be done with it. Every chore was bringing her close to the day she would get on a ship and journey back home.
In the changing room Kate was alone with the modiste.
"Magnifique!" the woman exclaimed.
"If you were instructed to tell me I look like a vision in this dress, please don't."
"It is no lie," Madame Delacroix grinned. "They do worry about you. Cheering you up a little is not a crime, mademoiselle."
"I wish they didn't. I do not know how to respond to it anymore. Very soon I will snap at them or start nodding condescendingly. They deserve neither for thinking that I should not deny myself any chance at happiness, but what they ask of me is beyond my power."
"Does that mean that you do not dream of walking down the aisle?" the modiste asked, adjusting the bodice.
"Only in nightmares, I am afraid."
Madame Delacroix nodded kindly. "Nothing good in your quest to trust him?"
Kate buried her face in her palms for the longest moment and felt grateful for the modiste's silent companionship as she recovered.
"Your mama mentioned that you are looking for a few traveling items. I would like to make them as a gift for you."
"Oh. I don't know if I-"
The modiste caught her hands and made Kate turn to face her. "We can't have every memory you have from England to be bitter."
Tears burned her eyes and Kate wiped them before stepping out.
Edwina, as expected, gasped and gushed about how pretty Kate looked. When Kate reminded her that she had yet to make any comment on the dress Edwina asked her to twirl on the stand. Again and again.
Kate felt dizzy from spinning and froze when she noticed a figure outside the window, watching her intently.
The viscount, accompanying his mother and the Duchess, was looking at her, mouth gaping, eyes narrowed in a deep frown. Without breaking his stare he tilted his head to say something to the Duchess who felt compelled to heed his order.
Seconds later her Grace, the Duchess of Hastings, walked through the door, apologizing for the interruption.
"I could not help myself, ladies. Trying on dresses for one's wedding is such a beautiful moment and I just remembered the endless hours I spent in this very room!"
"It is always a joy to have you here, your Grace," Madame Delacroix welcomed her.
Daphne Bassett looked around, avoiding the windowpane, for any sign of what she needed without really asking for it. Having no help from Edwina or her mama, the Duchess turned to Kate. "Miss Sharma," she said, a confused smile painted on her face. "You are a lovely bride."
"Thank you, your Grace, but this dress is not for me." It was neither a polite response, nor a very informative one. But for the intended recipient it should be more than enough.
Daphne had delivered the cryptic message Miss Sharma had sent. The ivory dress was not for her. That had been the extent of it. In truth he regretted asking his sister to go inside the modiste's shop and investigate the reasons for which Miss Sharma was dressed as a bride, but the sight of her rendered him incapable of logical thinking. She was breathtaking but the thought that she was preparing for someone else… The world had stopped. He had to know if what he feared was actually happening.
And now she had let him know that she knew just how curious he was and to add salt to the wound she had made it quite clear she would do nothing to ease his mind.
Through every channel of information he tried to find the tiniest hint. He started combing the gossip sheets for any reference to Miss Sharma and any possible suitors. Nothing thus far, beyond mentions on Miss Edwina's upcoming wedding.
Searching for Ethan Reeves was even harder. Reeves was rarely mentioned in the scandal columns and mostly as a bachelor who did not plan to marry, much to his mama's and sister's dismay. However, his reputation, and Anthony had that on good authority, should fall under the rakish category and Anthony did not know how he managed to avoid the branding. And yes, Anthony really contemplated the possibility of guiding Miss Sharma to that information regarding her new suitor.
"Idiot." Benedict took his seat opposite him on the chess board.
Anthony hid behind his paper.
Uncharacteristically for him, his brother had kept his distance since the end of the courtship with Miss Sharma. He regularly muttered 'idiot' when passing him by, but all the same he was trying a new approach, Anthony gathered. Benedict's method was to wait for Anthony to speak when he was ready, knowing that pressure would have the opposite result. The bet would be if Benedict would wait until Anthony would declare his intention to propose to either Miss Seymour or Miss Goring. But he was just wasting his time. Anthony had, and doubted that anything would change on the matter, nothing to say about Miss Sharma and the doomed experiment of their courtship.
"That is unfortunate."
Anthony turned to his mother. "Pardon?"
"Miss Seymour is leaving for the Mediterranean shores." She waved a letter that had just come in.
"Is she?" The loss of Miss Seymour should have made more of an impact, because she was the nicer between the two candidates but he felt that the young woman would benefit from the change of scenery. "I hope they will not saddle her with that dreadful aunt."
"If that is all you hope for the girl, Anthony, I should not spend more time on the matter." His mother added the letter to a small pile of unwelcome correspondence on the tray by her tea.
Daphne and Benedict had become used to the peculiar way their mother had chosen to react to Anthony's broken courtship but every new detail made them look even more dumbfounded than before.
"Any thoughts on our guests' list for the house party at Aubrey Hall?" she asked, moving on with her day. "We have delayed it long enough, Anthony. We never had our ball so late in the year."
The cause for the delay was his failed season, so he tried to be prepared. A parchment with the people he wanted at their ancestral home was in his mother's hand. "Combine it with yours, mother and I believe we will have a success."
Her eyes scanned the names. Reaching the bottom of the list she thinned her lips. There was one name that would cause that. Ethan Reeves. Whether the invitation would be accepted would explain a lot of things, but his mother would not begrudge him that. It had to be the omission of Lady Danbury and her guests. But that infinitesimal reaction quickly changed into a broad smile. "Marvelous."
"Is it now?" Benedict pressed, having checked the list himself only moments ago. "Sometimes I use substances to get my creativity flowing through me, but clearly, Duchess these two have surpassed me."
Daphne gasped at the crude remark, but seemed to consider it for a moment.
"What are your plans this evening, Daphne?"
Benedict gave her a shrug, instead of a verbal comment and she nodded. "Simon and I are attending the performance at the Opera. Will we see you there, mama? Anthony?"
"Yes," Anthony replied with barely concealed boredom. "Miss Goring mentioned she did not want to miss it."
"What Miss Goring wants, Miss Goring must get." Benedict said. "Idiot."
Not, idiot, just really really tired.
Lady Danbury's box was on the other side of the auditorium. Far enough to not be able to hear any conversation held there but close enough for Anthony to watch Reeves walk in, kiss the hostess' hand and take his seat right next to Miss Sharma, ready to keep her entertained throughout the night with more anecdotes no doubt. Lady Mary and Miss Edwina were absent. Which, if one was inclined to make anything out of it, meant that the evening served a purpose other than Miss Edwina's season. It was the elder Sharma's turn.
The silver gown accented her almost regal quality, matching perfectly with a delicate tiara that sat wonderfully in the maze of her ebony locks.
Reeves rather scandalously brought his stretched arm on the railing so that he could angle towards Miss Sharma, whispering nonsense in her ear. She kept her posture without the usual girlish signs of reciprocating someone's attention, but with enough enthusiasm to make anyone optimistic.
Purposefully Reeves included Lady Danbury in the conversation who chuckled not once but twice, which spoke volumes.
The sound coming from the stage, whether it was voice or music, was just an annoyance, because whatever was happening made Miss Goring jump in excitement, seeking to discuss it with him in great detail.
During the intermission Anthony left the family's box with the excuse to greet a friend he had not seen in years and ran with the intention to get to Lady Danbury's box.
Halfway there he stopped, having nothing to say. Absolutely nothing worth anyone's time and attention.
Daphne had run after him, presumably to stop him for such folly.
"Brother? Do you want me to go and-"
"No, sister. If you wish to help me, plainly refuse any such request I might make in the future."
They returned silently to their seats. Time passed in a blur. Daphne had to nudge his elbow at the end of the performance. Everyone stood in ovation.
Miss Sharma was luminous when the light hit her in a certain way...
"Absolutely divine!" Miss Goring exclaimed, speaking of the singer's talent.
"Quite right," Anthony agreed, speaking of something else entirely.
As they made their way out the two parties met at the landing of the great stairwell. Greetings, laughs and comments on the costumes couples kept them occupied.
When it was time to descend, to free the path for others too, Anthony with Miss Goring on his arm, walked right behind Miss Sharma who had Reeves on her left. Being so close to her after so long had him unprepared. He was bathed once again in the scent of lilies she favored and the feel of it was just as maddening as his wildest memory of it. The stairs would end soon and they'd be separated for the night. Perhaps forever. It was a phenomenally bad idea, idiotic Benedict would say, but Anthony reached for her upper arm with his fingertips, causing a tiny tilt of her head in his direction that revealed her gorgeous profile. That small reaction made him take a quicker step and he fell into step with her, his hand sliding on the length of her arm. Her hitched breath reminded him that if they escaped notice until then, they were certainly barreling towards a scandal if he wouldn't stop. As he withdrew his hand, tearing a new wound inside him, Miss Sharma searched the contact anew, brushing her knuckles against his. In an impulse and with a racing heart he… It was a mistake to even think of it but he wanted to feel her ring finger. To see if there was something beneath her satin glove. Any proof of proposal. There was nothing. Yet.
But there was nothing he could do. Her rejection allowed him to see the sharp scissors Benedict had mentioned. If he let himself he would have fallen in love with her and he could not do that to her.
When he said goodnight as Reeves helped her in the Danbury carriage Anthony realized that it had to be a goodbye.
After another dream of Miss Sharma, quivering with pleasure at his touch, then sleeping soundly in his bed, answering to the name of Lady Bridgerton, and years later, dressed in black and with a tearstained face, ripping manically the sheets off the bed in soul-crushing grief, Anthony decided to marry Miss Goring.
At least that fucking harp of hers would drown that ceaseless whisper in his mind.
"My lord."
The following morning, Anthony stopped his mother before entering the drawing room, still suffering from the revelations of the previous night at the Opera. "Have you sent all the invitations for the house party?"
"Yesterday afternoon," she said softly, quite pleased with herself for the efficiency in the task. "I am expecting replies today. Why?"
It was too late to forget the meaningless plan to Reeves away from Miss Sharma. But it should not affect him.
Miss Cowper was her usual obnoxious self in declaring her anticipation for the house party at Aubrey Hall. Miss Penelope Featherington tried to steer Kate away from the Cowper girl and her silly friends and discuss the Sharmas' plans instead.
"So, you are leaving for Lord Lumley's estate. It is quite wonderful this time of year I hear. My papa used to hunt there with the late Lord Lumley."
Kate nodded wordlessly. The sting of not being invited was just as torturous as being invited as a mere guest would be. Oh this was insupportable. She could not be in public for her reaction if cared to avoid a scandal.
Miss Penelope kindly released her and Kate searched around the flowerbeds for Edwina.
The look on her sister's face gave away that she too had heard of the Bridgerton house party.
"Are you-"
"Let's invite your grandparents for dinner, bon." Kate forced herself to sound cheerful and carefree. "Perhaps they too wish to join us at Lord Lumley's estate?"
Edwina did not hide her confusion. "Won't you mind? Spending so much time with them?"
She wanted nothing less, but for the sake of her plans she had to endure it. "Why would I, bon?"
The Queen, too preoccupied with unmasking Lady Whistledown, left the wedding preparations to the two families, ordering them that no time should be wasted, which was the first good news Kate had received in days. If the Sheffields would be included at the Lumleys' then perhaps with Kate's heavy hints, a small wedding at the local church could be arranged in no time. The Queen had as good as promised a special license.
And Kate would be free.
It all happened too quickly for anyone to notice.
First a loud crack stopped their conversation, immediately causing a violent rattling through the entire carriage which toppled on its side, with Lady Danbury landing on her arm and cursing like a seasoned sailor.
Kate crawled out of the wreckage, tearing her dress when it did not cooperate with her movements, frantically pulling anything that was in the way of getting to the others. Assisted by one footman she got Edwina first out, while the other footman was helping her mama and the driver was seeing to the maids.
When everyone was accounted for Kate had only Lady Danbury's injury to think of.
"The carriage needs a new wheel, Miss, and one of the horses is hurt too." The driver's report was not helping her calm down. Damn their luck, there was no one else on the road with them. The last village they had passed was miles away which meant that onwards there had to be another one closer.
"Is the other horse well enough for a rider and a close distance?" she asked. The driver nodded. "Unharness it."
"I have no saddle for you, Miss."
"I do not require one," she reassured him. "Hurry."
"Miss Sharma it should be me," one of the footmen offered. The bleeding on his brow and his unfocused eyesight said otherwise.
"I am faster on a horse, Peter."
Kate rode as fast as she could, hoping that sooner rather than later she'd find the edges of an estate and hopefully someone there to help her.
Like a shipman lost at sea, crying when meeting land, she galloped towards the first man she found. She informed him of the accident, asking for the closest estate.
"You're lucky, Miss." The man smiled.
Kate doubted it very much.
"The lord is nearby, I will get you to him right away."
He led the way and Kate followed on a slow trot around a deep foliage in the middle of the field. At the sight of the lord in question Kate almost begged to return back to the wrecked carriage and push it on the road herself.
"Miss Sharma?" The viscount asked, sheer terror in his voice and countenance. Her appearance, as though she had emerged from a bloody fight, would terrify most people. "What happened?"
"My lord, we-" the horse kneeled beneath her.
"Wait!" he cried, dismounting.
Kate had just enough time to free her legs and maneuver to avoid a crash landing on the ground.
The viscount was before her, grabbing her elbows to get her on her feet, while the man was telling him about the carriage.
Without releasing her he gave his orders to his estate's agent to get help from the house.
"Miss Sharma, can you estimate how far-" the words caught in his throat as he went pale. "Is that blood trickling down your arm?"
Kate looked for the blood and was surprised to see it there. "I don't-"
"Are you hurt?"
"I don't know."
He brought his hand on her cheek, supporting her head. She rested her hand on his bent elbow. just like that night. Could they be back there? Could they rewrite it?
Anthony's heart nearly stopped when he thought she would faint, but she recovered quickly. He knew it was a bad idea to get her on the horse with him, but he needed to keep her close. He needed to know that she was well.
She pointed at the direction they had come.
"All will be well, Miss Sharma."
"Thank you." Then she rested her head on his shoulder, exhaustion winning over.
Her scent… Lilies.
That fucking pull wrapping around him like a rope, keeping him entranced.
If they lived in other times, when lords were enforcing their will… If he had been the sort of man who could, he would take her before a clergyman to marry them and be done with it.
For the time, he just held her close to his body as they galloped.