"Anthony.." Violet began. She would stop at nothing to inquire what had prompted her favorite redhead to rescind the engagement with her dearest son. "This melancholy cannot be allowed to linger. I know your heart has been grievously wounded, but you must share with me the particulars.. Why did Penelope feel forced to extricate herself from your betrothal so completely?"

Anthony squeezed his eyes shut, the memory of Penelope's icy cold demeanor flashing behind his lids. When he finally found his voice, it was low and gravelly.

"Penelope.. Has no recollection of anything after her accident, mother. Her mind is entirely devoid of the months we spent cultivating our courtship."

Violet's eyes widened fractionally, one delicate hand rising to her lips. "No.. no memories of your growing fondness? Of your attachment becoming something more profound?"

"None whatsoever." Anthony shook his head morosely. "In her mind, I remain simply the Viscount, the officious elder brother of her dearest friend Eloise. Any intimations of romance between us are.. Unnatural to her."

Violet made a soft noise of dismay as realization bloomed. "Oh Anthony.. The poor, dear girl. To have come so far, only for this cruelty of fate to dash your hopes entirely.."

Sinking onto the settee beside him, she grasped his hands in her own. "Was that the true extent of her distress? Did Penelope not.. Explain further why she felt compelled to renege on your understanding?"

Anthony's jaw tensed minutely - Penelope's other life-altering confession; being the real Lady Whistledown, still burnt like acid in his mind. But he could not bring himself to share that revelation, not even with his own mother. It was Penelope's secret to disclose, not his own.

"She felt it unforgivably selfish to accept my suit when her own feelings could not meet mine in equal measure." He answered instead, the words like glass in his throat. "Penelope believed it dishonorable to uphold our engagement under such unbalanced circumstances."

Violet squeezed her son's arm reassuringly. "I could truly understand her. Penelope is a kind and selfless young woman. In her current state, she likely believes that continuing with the engagement would be unfair to you, as she cannot recall the depth of her feelings. But do not surrender all hope just yet, Anthony. Her heart still yearns for you, even if her mind cannot remember the details."

Anthony's eyes flashed with desperate longing. "You believe.. Penelope's affections for me endure still? Despite her mind's attempt at unremembering?"

"I know it to be true, my son. The heart does not so easily forsake what it has given itself to fully, memory or no. Penelope's younger, cloistered self may be at the fore currently.. But the woman who learned to love you remains within, merely… slumbering."

"The banns for your wedding have not been removed, and the Featheringtons have made no public declaration of a broken engagement." Violet continued. "This means there is still a chance to rekindle the flame between you and Penelope."

Anthony's misery slowly faded, replaced by a newfound determination. "What would you have me do mother?"

Violet Bridgerton smiled knowingly. "As the gentleman, it falls upon you to guide Penelope's heart back to you. Court her once more, remind her of the love you share. If you could capture Penelope's attentions once before as a friend, you can surely rekindle her regard as a suitor as well. All she requires is the chance to fall in love with the honesty of your character anew."

For the first time in days, a tentative spark of hope flickered to life in Anthony's eyes. "You.. you truly believe me capable of such an undertaking, mother? Or rekindling the bond we allowed to bloom between us without her being conscious of its genesis?"

"I have never been more certain of anything in my life." Violet replied with conviction. "We Bridgertons face this challenge standing firmly united behind you, Anthony. Though the path be newly obstructed, it yet remains ripe with possibility."

Pulling her son into a fierce embrace, she murmured fiercely into his hair. "Your betrothed's heart is simply waiting to be reawakened to its truth through the steadfastness of your devotion. Do not concede its capabilities to the temporary veil of this human condition."

Pulling back, Anthony met his mother's gaze with rekindled fire. "I will do whatever it takes to win back Pen's affections, mother. With your guidance and the support of our family, I shall not rest until Penelope remembers the depth of our love."

"Excellent." Violet replied, her eyes twinkling. "The first step is to present yourself as a devoted and charming suitor. The Abernathy ball tomorrow night provides the perfect opportunity. Ensure you are at your most dashing, for an emerald like Penelope deserves nothing less than a polished and attentive fiancee."

Anthony straightened his posture, determination etched across his features. "I shall not disappoint, mother. Penelope will remember the love we share, and our engagement will be restored. I give you my word. She will be the only one to become the next Viscountess Bridgerton."

Violet smiled proudly, her heart swelling with confidence in her son's ability to reignite the flame of love between him and the youngest Featherington.

—-

At the Abernathy Ball

The grand ballroom at Abernathy Hall was alive with the hum of conversation and the vibrant swish of silken gowns as the ton's most esteemed members filtered inside. Light from hundreds of beeswax candles glinted off polished marble and glittering crystal, casting a warm, inviting glow over the proceedings.

The arrival of the Bridgertons, fashionably late as ever, drew the roving eyes of many in attendance. At their head strode Anthony, cutting an unmistakably dashing figure in his perfectly-tailored tailcoat and crisp cravat. He escorted his radiant mother Violet on one arm, with his sister Francesca on the other. Just behind trailed Benedict with Eloise, both exuding sophisticated charm.

Murmurs instantly began buzzing about the ballroom over which, if any, of the infamous Bridgerton rakes might next be intent on claiming a wife this season. Unbeknownst to the gossips, Anthony's eyes were already keenly scanning the crowd in search of one particular quarry.

There - across the dance floor near the Abernathy matriarch herself stood the familiar ginger tresses of one Penelope Featherington. Heart bloomed in Anthony's chest as his gaze raked over her elegant champagne green gown, so perfectly complementing the creamy expanse of her decolletage and shoulders. A lace fan fluttered coquettishly as she conversed with her mother and the hostess, entirely unaware of his burning appraisal.

At least, not until the taller figure of Lord Andrew Preston sidled up beside Penelope, shamelessly angling his body to better monopolize her attentions. Anthony felt his jaw clench reflexively as the young lord bent unnecessarily close, clearly relishing any chance to bask in Penelope's smiles and charms.

The sight proved too much for Anthony's already overwrought composure. Whirling on his heel, he hastened back to where Violet was holding court with his siblings.

"Mother." The Viscount rumbled in a low aside. "I've located Penelope but she appears.. Indisposed with another suitor's pursuit at present."

Violet's sharp eyes instantly read the tautness around Anthony's mouth, the slight tinge of color riding high on his cheekbones. Patting his forearm placatingly, she nodded in understanding.

"Say no more, my dear. We shall extricate your betrothed from such distractions posthaste."

With a conspiratorial look, she began steering their party across the marble towards the small knot of conversants surrounding Penelope and the offending Lord Preston. As they neared, Violet smoothly interjected herself.

"Lady Featherington! Lady Abernathy! What a delightful pleasure to encounter you both amidst such splendid company." She effused with a luminous smile. "Penelope, oh my dear future daughter-in-law, you are a vision tonight - though I confess I've missed your vivacious presence dreadfully these last few days!" Violet explicitly addresses Penelope as such, to emphasize the redhead as her son's betrothed.

Without preamble, she enfolded a surprised Penelope in an enthusiastic embrace while Anthony adroitly inserted himself like a bulwark between her and Lord Preston. Pulling back Violet kept a possessive hand on Penelope's arm as Anthony bent over her gloved hand with studious attentiveness.

"A thousand greetings, Miss Featherington. You look resplendent as always." He purred in that rich baritone, lips brushing her knuckles in a scorching caress. "I hope this evening finds you in utmost felicity?"

Penelope felt her cheeks flush hotly at his ardent regard, suddenly conscious of the surrounding company's captive interest. What game was Anthony playing at?

"L-Lord Bridgerton." She stammered, struggling to find her usual poise. "I am well, though perhaps we ought make our own introductions with the others present?"

"Of course, of course." Anthony replied smoothly, though his eyes never left hers. Straightening, he cast a dismissive look towards Lord Preston. "You'll forgive me, I trust, for my wanting to acquaint myself with my fiancee's delightful company first?"

The young lord's expression soured instantly at the Viscount's brusque tone and utter indifference to propriety. He opened his mouth to protest, but Lady Abernathy interjected with a politic. "How fortuitous you've arrived, Lord Bridgerton. I was just introducing Miss Featherington here to Lord Preston. He has inherited his father's title after retiring to relish his remaining years in the country."

Anthony merely arched an insolent brow at the sycophantic declaration as Penelope cast him a quelling look. Very well, have it your way, that exasperated glance seemed to say, and Anthony felt a tiny frisson of satisfaction. If she wanted the niceties observed first, he would oblige - but only so he might then pursue his quarry by his own chosen tact.

"A pleasure, I'm sure." Anthony drawled, acknowledging the other man for the first time. "Though if you'll pardon my ruthlessness in this instance, I'm afraid I must commandeer my betrothed's presence for the evening's first set."

He did not wait for assent before pivoting towards Penelope and offering his arm with an insouciant tilt of his head. "If my lady would indulge me?"

Four sets of eyes instantly bored into Penelope, Lady Featherington and Lady Abernathy both frozen in polite expectation. She suddenly realized with a jolt what Anthony's intention was - to snare her into a private tete-a-tete in the only way honor dictated she could not refuse: by asking her to dance. Portia was clearly on the verge of demurring on her daughter's behalf, but the very public tableau trapped them all.

Fuming inwardly at the Viscount's calculated maneuvers, Penelope mustered what remaining grace she had. "I would be delighted, Lord Bridgerton." She replies, placing her hand on his proffered elbow as cheerfully as she could manage.

Triumph glittered for a fleeting instant in Anthony's gaze before his expression smoothed to one of consummate suavity. Escorting Penelope away with a shallow bow of consideration to the utterly bamboozled Lord Preston, the pair made their way to take their place among the other couples preparing to take the dance floor.