A/N: I'm late, but I brought 2 chapters.

CHAPTER - 6 - WRONG FOOT

Anthony entered the conservatory with his mother, Benedict and Eloise. Violet had quickly readjusted to the societal expectations of her and put on a charming smile. Though Benedict was behaving with utmost decency that he could, he soon began chuckling at Eloise, who was fidgeting with her dress.

"Stop fussing with your dress," he said curtly.

"You look lovely, dearest," joined Violet, who was simultaneously in the middle of greeting her acquaintances and handling her daughter.

"However, Eloise was not pleased. "I look like a prize calf, trussed up for auction," she said, staring into the distance. Benedict mooed at that, and even Anthony could not resist finding that funny. His mother and Eloise however, did not seem to share that sentiment. Though Eloise rolled her eyes at that, Violet got hold of Eloise's hand and her attention.

"Even Daphne felt apprehensive at her first official ball, and look how well her season turned out," she mused as his sister scowled.

Anthony suppressed his smirk this time. He couldn't help but wonder, if it had been someone other than himself who had caught Daphne and Simon in the gardens that night, her mother would certainly eat her words. Yet there is no point in telling her now, Daphne was truly happy in her marriage, and Anthony would keep this secret forever since doing otherwise would only yield him more scolding.

"Oh," exclaimed Violet, looking at a young redhead boy approaching them. The Baron of Ashdown, wait, no, The Marquess of Ashdown, ever since his father passed months ago. Anthony was astonished at what a mere boy of seventeen was doing looking around for a wife. Most misses here would be older than him, being eighteen or more of age.

Benedict however was quick to approach. That is in frisking Eloise away from Violet, who looked keen to introduce her to the Young Marquess. "Come sister," he said, grabbing Eloise's hand at once. "The cakes at these occasions are surprisingly good," he said and quickly dragged her away. Anthony was certain that he had read Eloise's mind. Violet however, remained unimpressed about everything, as the young boy left unable to be introduced to his sister. For better or for worse, thought Anthony, now left with his mother.

"It truly is a sparse crop," he mumbled looking at the bleak ballroom floor.

"Oh, I am sure there is someone here who will charm you," replied Violet who continued looking around at her surroundings. "After all, this is the seASON THE VISCOUNT INTENDS TO FIND A WIFE," she announced loudly.

Anthony was taken aback suddenly. Much like the entire crowd which went still. His mother, his very own mother set him up like a … he wouldn't even know what to call someone who would sell another out like this. It was the season he intended to find a wife, but he would have liked to keep his distance. Now all of the young debutantes would come flocking to him and he would be surrounded like the diamond of the season, up for snatching.

"You honestly just did that," he said to her, looking stunned as the crowd of matchmaking mama's gathered around them.

"I believe I did," she smiled gently, keeping her composure as if nothing had happened. It was unbelievable. No reason Eloise was terrified of being married, their mother was absolutely cunning when it came to the marriage mart, and this season she had two kids she had to get married successfully, might he add.

"Lady Bridgerton", "Lord Bridgerton", "My Lord", "My Lady", came the voices from young women who were curtsying everywhere around him. And now he had no choice but to sign their dance cards.

And so Anthony Briderton began the next round, of fooling himself, fooling his mother and the next round of fresh Debutantes into thinking he was a charming gentleman and catch of the season. He carefully picked out five new faces, debutantes he had not previously interviewed with to dance, leaving three dances for refreshments and respite from dancing. Maybe he will dance one round with his own sister, to show her around the ballroom and warn her of certain dubious men. But for now, this would be enough he thought, as he asked a young debutante, if she had permission to dance the Waltz.

"One minute to the first dance," announced the Master of Ceremonies.

And so it begins.

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A/N : The next one is a new scene which I have written.