#the bridgerton brothers know how to make love harder than it needs to be
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Anthony, Benedict, and Colin:
#bridgerton#anthony bridgerton#colin bridgerton#benedict bridgerton#taskmaster#incorrect quotes#bridgerton netflix#the viscount who loved me#romancing mister bridgerton#an offer from a gentleman#kathony#polin#the bridgerton brothers know how to make love harder than it needs to be#tvwlm#Al Murray#paul chowdhry#dave gorman
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My miracle
Anthony Bridgerton x reader
summary: Anthony’s wife is in labor and it’s not looking good
warnings: mentions of death
“Where is she?” the loud voice of Anthony was heard in the entire mansion. The door he opened slammed into the wall but he couldn’t care less as he saw some servants running his way to take off his coat. “Tell me where my wife is!”
“My apologies, my Lord.” the poor man trembled under the Lord’s menacingly glare, that were just a cover for the worry and fear that was running though his veins. “The Viscountess is in your chambers. The midwife and your mother are already present with her. Shall I inform your brothers to come and wait with you until the child is born?”
Anthony didn’t bother to respond. He quickly climbed the stairs, two steps at once, seeing with wide eyes as the maids ran to his room with towels in their hands. He doesn't even settle for knocking, immediatly opening the bedroom door. None of his mother's stories could have prepared him for the sight that lay ahead.
His darling wife was drenched in sweat, dressed in her nightdown. One hand was on her round belly protectively while the other was in his mother’s hands, who was whispering words of comfort. Her jaw was clenched in pain and it was only then that he noticed the midwife between the Viscountess legs.
“You!” Y/n screamed accusingly, managing to point a finger at Anthony with hatred. “You did this to me! You will never ever put your hands on me again!”
“I-” Anthony was at loss of words. He knew that his wife was in pain, and looking like she was ready to kill, so he just nodded his head in agreement. He took slow hesitant steps towards the bed, hoping to comfort her without dying. “I’ll never touch you again, my love. How are you feeling?”
“How do you think I’m feeling? I’m pushing your child that inherited your big head out of my lady parts! So tell me, my dear husband, how am I feeling?”
“Like you are giving birth?”
“Anthony...” his mother whispered while shaking her head in dispair. “You should leave the room. Your brothers must be coming to keep you company. We shall call you when the child is born.”
“I’m not leaving my wife.” was the only thing he said with firmity, holding Y/n’s hand and kissing her soft skin gently.
She turned to him, a change in her demeanor, eyes full of tears of terror. “I’m scared, Anthony. It hurts.”
“I know it hurts. It’s okay, love. You will be alright and then we will have our child with us.” he whispered. A feeling of guilt washed through him. How could he have made his wife suffer through childbirth? “You are the bravest person I know. So so much braver than me and everyone else. I’m so proud of you.”
"I can't do this. It hurts too much. Make it stop, Anthony, please." Y/n cried.
It was only then that Anthony saw the look in his mother. She was worried, exchanging looks with the midwife. And as much as the Viscount would like to also show his anguish, his first priority was to comfort Y/n. "It's going to be okay, my love. Just a little longer, you're being so strong."
But she no longer had the strength to respond. It was getting harder and harder to keep her eyes open and she just wanted to sleep to escape the pain. Between her legs, an increasingly larger pool of blood was forming. Anthony's eyes were wide and there was enormous pressure in his chest. It felt like I was running out of oxygen, and it only got worse when Y/n finally gave in to unconsciousness.
"What's happening?" he whispered, looking in alarm first at Violet. Afterwards, he turned to the midwife furiously. "What's wrong with her? Help her! Do something!"
"Anthony, you need to leave." Violet advised, trying to remain calm for everyone's sake. Anthony was becoming more and more desperate, tears falling from his eyes as he grabbed his wife's hand tighter and brought it to his lips.
"I'm not going anywhere!"
"Viscount Bridgerton, the baby is in pain. You won't want to see what I'm going to do. I promise I'll try to save both of them." the midwife said, taking a small knife and flying it over Y/n's stomach.
"If you need to choose, save my wife's life." Anthony begged, now more desperate as his mother called his brothers to take him out of the room.
"Anthony..."
"No, mother, you save my wife's life!" Benedict and Collin grabbed the man by the arms and began to carry him outside, despite Anthony's struggle. "You hear me! My wife is going to survive! Let me go! Mother, save Y/n!" he shouted before the door closed in his face.
The last thing he saw was the woman making the cut on Y/n's stomach, who woke up with a jolt. She then let out a scream that would torment Anthony for the rest of his life.
With a cry of anger mixed with sadness, Anthony broke free from his brothers' grip and put his hands to his face. He didn't want to think about the possibility of losing the love of his life. He simply couldn't take it.
"Wow, Anthony, calm down." Collin whispered when Anthony, in a rage, threw a punch against the wall. "The Viscountess is a fighter. If anyone is capable of overcoming this, it's her."
"You don't tell me to calm down, Collin. Not when my wife is in that room fighting for her life over something I did." he cried, jaw shaking and eyes red that only showed the immense pain he was in. He sat on the floor, leaning his head back and looking at the ceiling. "I need her to live."
"And she will live, brother. I will bring a drink, and we will wait together for news." Benedict said, rushing to bring the alcohol when Y/n's screams became louder.
On one hand, each scream was like a stab in the heart of Anthony, who was increasingly pale and looked like he was going to vomit at any moment. On the other, it was the only way to know she was alive.
Moments passed. The Viscount didn't know if it had been seconds, minutes or hours. Things seemed to be getting mixed up in his mind. Nothing made sense, not when the love of his life was in the next room in pain and he was away from her. He had to protect her, it was his obligation as a husband. And he failed.
And then came the moment when Anthony's heart stopped. A baby's cry was heard, and he allowed himself to smile a little. He had a son or daughter. A mini version of his wife. And then he burst into tears when Y/n stopped screaming and everything became too silent.
It was uncontrollable. He cried without being able to stop, making it even difficult to breathe in. Anthony refused to believe that he would have to raise this child without Y/n. Without her affection, her kindness, her love. He didn't want to open his eyes and realize that all this wasn't a nightmare, but reality.
Benedict and Collin didn't know what to do. But one thing was certain, they would be there to help Anthony with whatever he needed and never let that child forget the wonderful mother he had. Then, Violet left the room holding a pile of blankets that held the baby.
"You have a daughter, Anthony."
He just cried more. His body was shaking and he couldn't even look at his mother and the baby. "Y/n... Is she...?" He took Violet's silence as a yes. "Oh god..."
"Enter the room, Anthony. She is waiting for you."
Anthony had never stood up so quickly in his life. He quickly opened the door, stopping momentarily when he saw the amount of blood on the sheets, but the most important thing was Y/n's half-open eyes. She was alive and looking around the room in confusion.
"Anthony? Where is my baby?" her voice was hoarse and extremely weak.
The man fell to his knees at the edge of her bed, and lowered his head to rest on her chest. A feeling of relief spread throughout his body when he felt the rising and falling movement of her chest, indicating that she was breathing and that it wasn't just his imagination.
"I love you so much." he cried, feeling her hands start stroking his hair. "I'm sorry. You were so brave and strong. I'm so proud of you, my love."
"Where is my baby?" Y/n didn't want to seem like she didn't appreciate Anthony's words because that was a lie. He was the most important person in her life. But at that moment, Y/n just wanted to know where her baby was.
"She's right here, dear." Violet reassured with a smile, announcing her presence.
Very carefully, she passed the child into the arms of her son's wife, her smile widening as the little family was finally together again. The new parents had a gentle smile as they looked at their creation, a new love emerging for this fragile human being.
Anthony kissed Y/n's temple. "We have a daughter."
"She is beautiful."
"She takes after her mother." Anthony quickly said, never feeling so much love as he did in that moment.
He was extremely proud of Y/n admiring her strength and courage. Now, he was going to protect his two girls until the end of his life. Nothing was more important than his family.
#anthony bridgerton#anthony bridgerton x reader#anthony bridgerton x y/n#anthony bridgerton x you#Bridgerton#benedict bridgerton#benedict bridgerton x reader#bridgerton x reader#bridgerton x female reader#anthony bridgerton x female reader#bridgerton x y/n#collin bridgerton x reader#bridgerton imagine#anthony bridgerton x wife reader
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I Mean It
Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!reader
Characters: Fem!reader, Daphne Bridgerton, Anthony Bridgerton, Benedict Bridgerton, Colin Bridgerton, Simon Basset
Warnings: Fluff, cringey content, this has been in my drafts for a while, it’s more modern than our classic Bridgerton time, I manage to write the most heartfelt sentences a man could say like five minutes before I have to go to work, no regrets for this bad boy, anthony and the reader denying their feelings, anthony breaks so he can have the reader, daphne and benedict are very proud of their plan, vague backstory for readers ex, the reader being the smartest when it comes to bridgerton sibling fights, I hope you all can find it in you to enjoy this
Word Count: 2,662
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“Another line left in yet another book for you, I see,” Daphne teases you.
You roll your eyes. “Would it hurt you to quiet down.”
“Yes, truthfully. It would.”
“You exaggerate.”
“I do but only because you don’t want to try and figure out who it is? Or even suspect that maybe it could be-”
“It’s not him, stop trying to bring it up every time we’re here.”
She opens the door, gesturing for you to go inside. “Chickens first.”
You narrow your eyes at her, “rude.”
“I am not rude. I merely, tell the truth.”
“Like I believe that.”
“Believe whatever you want but when your secret admirer comes to light. and it is A-”
“Good morning, ladies,” her older brother greets with a smile, having some idea that he was interrupting but not seeming to care (or so he lets you believe).
“Good morning to you too, Anthony,” she returns with the same upbeat he had in his tone, only stressing his name as she turns back to you.
You ignore her and smile, nodding your head to greet him.
“Daphne, you have five minutes before your shift.”
Her head snaps in his direction. “What? Why? I have more than five minutes before I start.”
“That was until you started showing up late and not staying to lock when I needed you to.”
“But I had plans before coming in and you know that.”
“I do, which is why your lucky mother doesn’t know about what’s going on right now. I ask that you start your shift now because I need you to take over, okay? I need to be able to focus and give my full attention to the next wave of customers to come in.”
“Kind as ever, Anthony.”
They give each sarcastic smiles before she runs off toward the back of their family’s shop.
You’ve always loved coming here, not just because of the company but because it has each family member’s touch.
You have Anthony as the head of everything, making sure everything runs smoothly.
Benedict creating news pieces to put up for display or customers to buy.
Colin... he’s not as much involved as a few of the older siblings, but he does help out when it comes to calming down a particularly angry customer. Now that you think about it, he’s more of a diffuser than anything.
Daphne is basically a manager assistant but doesn’t work like it, she likes working in the book section of the store (not just because it gives her an excuse to have girl talk with Eloise and vice versa).
None of the other siblings have yet to step into the role of working here, nor have they talked about it. None of the older siblings seem to mind, if they decided they don’t want to (maybe Eloise, but even then, she’s just teasing them).
You realize you’ve been too lost in your thoughts.
Daphne shakes her head, knowing that you have, in fact, gotten lost in your thoughts and Anthony could care less.
With her other friends, he’d be grumpy and force them away from the door slash the edge of the register-counter combo but with you, it’s an entirely different story and she doesn’t know how you don’t see it.
No matter how hard she tries to persuade you into knowing that he does, in fact, feel the same. It just means she has to try harder and open your eyes.
Anthony moves you away from the doors, not wanting anyone to bump into you. He lightly shakes your shoulders, wanting you to stop looking dazed.
You owlishly blink, “what?”
He narrows his eyes, furrowing his brows in confusion. “You were thinking about something.”
“Was I?”
“Definitely.”
“Sorry, I’ll just- I'm going to get out of your hair.”
He opens his mouth to argue but you halfway away from him before he could.
-
“How was your morning interaction with Anthony?”
You shrug, “fine.”
“He’s still staring.”
“No, he’s not.”
“He is.”
“I don’t believe you.”
She chuckles, restocking the bookshelf. “Then look for yourself.”
You pout, furrowing your brows in annoyance. “I will.”
Anthony turns away as fast as he can, immediately helping the next customer to walk through the door.
“He wasn’t.”
“He was.”
You’ve never been one to give into her ideas, she thinks it’s because you don’t see it, but the truth is, you don’t want to give in and get hurt.
Your previous boyfriend was a bit of a, what’s the right phrase... ah, right, a dick.
He was nice in the beginning, treated you like you were a princess which included saying and doing all the right things.
But things slowly took a turn, and he wasn’t as nice, he never laid a hand on you, but he ruined the mental image yourself and it took a while before you told Daphne about what happened... or even went over to the Bridgerton household after you two parted.
None of her brothers know, you were barely brave enough to tell Violet what happened.
Another reason Daphne feels you and Anthony would be good together, she knows he won’t treat you wrong; he’d take care of you and won’t let you down.
“Do you want to have dinner tonight?”
“What are you thinking?” You ask her.
“Something filling but not too expensive.”
“That could be anything,” you giggle.
“I know.”
-
Benedict nudges Anthony, as the latter’s lips curve upward as he watches you look happy. “Ask her out.”
“I can’t.”
“Chicken.”
“Get back here you lit- hi, welcome to the B-Ton Store.”
-
Daphne texts you that she can’t make it and sent you something better.
A knock on the door pulls you away from the TV, you’re still unable to decide what you want to watch tonight.
You look through the peephole and are surprised to see another Bridgerton at your door. “Anthony?”
“Sorry, I just- Daphne told me you’d be here alone and I- mother told me to come over.” No, she didn’t.
“Oh, okay. Come on, come on in.”
“Or I could- I could leave?”
“No, this is better than what I had planned.”
“Not going out tonight?”
“Exactly.”
“I see you have some bags with you,” you comment.
“Observant, aren’t we?”
“Don’t be mean, Anthony. I am starving and you interrupted me.”
“Were you cooking?”
“Not exactly.”
“So, I didn’t interrupt.”
“That’s rude of you to say.”
“I brought your favorites.”
“My favorites?”
“Yes.”
“And how would you know my favorites?”
“Please, you’ve been to our family home so many times, I think it would be a crime if I didn’t know what you liked.”
You resist the urge to smile. “Let’s go set these down in the kitchen.” You try to grab a bag from him, but he pulls away.
“I know where it is and I am a gentleman, I won’t let you carry any of these.”
“Anthony-”
“No.”
You sigh and follow him.
“Go sit in the living room and find a movie or something I can tolerate because I know you were watching one of those romance movies, I can’t watch any tonight.”
“Why not?”
“Francesca and Hyacinth forced me to watch one too many this weekend.”
“Oh, okay. So, I’m going to go and find all of mine.”
He lets out a fake chuckle, secretly watching as you walk out of the kitchen. He shakes his head and starts setting up the plates.
You click off the movie you were watching before and search for a comfort movie of yours.
He enters, handing you your plate and setting his beside you while he runs into the kitchen to grab drinks before setting down beside you.
“I told you; you don’t need to serve me here. You’re the guest.”
“It’s okay. I got it.” He sits down beside you. “What are we watching?”
“Something.”
“Oh, I see. I feed you and you don’t tell me what we’re going to watch.”
“Exactly.” You don’t think you’ve ever been alone with him before and it’s nice, usually you two are civil towards one another but this, this just feels different.
You glance to the side when you hear his voice mumbling along to the words. “Do you-" You hesitate in the middle of the question, unsure how he'd react if you do.
He doesn't move and before you know it, you're asking him.
"Do you know the lyrics to this?” He pauses, not wanting to answer you but he knows you and you aren’t the kind to stop asking until you get an answer. “A few lines," he answers vaguely.
“More like all of them.”
You bounce in your seat. “When did you learn them?”
He shrugs, pushing himself off the couch, taking your plates into the kitchen. The corner of his lips twitch at your excitement, suddenly his sister’s pestering doesn't seem like it was as torturous as he thought.
You don’t care to pause the TV as you follow him. “You can’t just avoid the question. You know more than Daphne does and she’s seen this more times than I could count.”
“I- I don’t know. I heard… you listen to it and it sort of... got stuck in my head.”
“So, you played it until you somehow knew all the words, didn’t you?”
“I’m not going to answer you.”
“Why not?” You whine.
He shakes his head.
You take a step closer, leaning against the counter.
"You should go back and watch the rest of your movie."
"But I want to know when you learned all the words."
"Just," he sighs. "Go back into the living room and maybe we'll talk."
"Anthony."
He sets the plate in the dish drain before wiping his hands on the dish towel you keep beside the sink. "I will not ask you again."
You don't know where this change in behavior came from, but you don't... not hate it.
"Fine, you really want to know?"
You nod even though he's not facing you.
He spins around, setting the dish towel back in its place. "I learned because my sister's longest and closest friend always sounds so- there aren't enough words for me to use to even begin describing how lovely you sound while singing along."
He takes a step forward. "You also have no idea how much you're in my head. It drives me insane almost because I wake up and think of you. I go to bed, and I think of you. Before I realized what I feel for you, I hated you."
You furrow your brows and thin your lips as if you're in pain.
"But when I talked to my mother about it." He leans against the counter with one hand close to you. "She told me it's not hate, it's love. She also told me to stop acting like a fool but here I am."
Your brows shoot up in surprise, you turn to give him your undivided attention. "Anthony?"
"I learned all the words to that musical that's still playing because I wanted us to have more in common. I wanted you to know that I can and will learn all that I can so that I may be closer to you because this- this relationship you have with my family is worth too much to lose."
The warmth on your cheek isn't just from his confession, he cradles your cheek as if you'll break. "I don't want to scare you with how deep my feelings for you are, so I'll start with saying I like you more than a friend or family friend. I want to-"
"To what?"
"I told you I don't want to scare you."
"What if," you gulp. "What if it won't? I mean, what if I actually like it and you just think I won't."
"Is that what you truly feel?"
"I-"
"Because I think you're acting tough, and you don't mean it. I think you're pretending to want to know just so you can have an excuse to turn me down."
"What do you take me for?"
He leans in, "someone who denies themselves the right to be happy."
"I- No. You're wrong. I am plenty happy."
"But you can have more."
"Why are you pushing this so much?"
"So, you can stop being sad."
That certainly surprised you. "You deserve nice things too. Even as much as finding the one you'd be able to spend the rest of your life with." He pulls away and you crumble.
"What if I did find him and it took me a while to realize it?"
"Do you think you'd be happy with me?"
You nod. "I know I would."
He stands in front of you, blocking you, evidently trapping you in between his arms as he leans in and smiles; not moving any further, not wanting to pressure you.
You know that too which is why you're equally as shocked when you pull him in for a (long awaited) kiss.
One of his hands slides away from the counter to hold onto your waist, keeping his other on the counter. He smiles at you. "Do you want to go back into the living room and finish your movie?"
The corners of your lips twitch. "Maybe."
"Come on," he mumbles, guiding you with one hand resting on your low back.
You don't know why you're feeling so shy all of a sudden.
You two sit back down and rewind to where you were before his confession, only this time, you’re not as far from the other.
You curl into his side, mouthing along to the words as his voice travels through your ears.
-
Daphne knocks on the door, arriving earlier than you expected, curious as to what happened between the two of you but also because you have plans for lunch before going to her family home.
She groans and hangs up the phone again, her patience is wearing thin. She knocks on your door harder than before. “It’s me, open up before your neighbors think I’m a burglar.”
The door swings open, her jaw drops at the sight of Anthony with you curled into his side.
“Well, well. Now I know why you haven’t answered your phone.” She lets herself inside, leaving her brother to close the door. “We have plans, say goodbye to your girlfriend so we can get ready and then go out to lunch.”
“Is it where I made your reservation for?”
“Of course.”
“I’m coming too.”
She whines, “no you’re not.”
“I’m hungry too and it’s under my name. You would have forced me to come sooner or later.”
“But that was before last night.”
He raises his brows.
“You two are a couple now and I won’t have enough time to spend with my friend because you’ll be dragging her around with you.”
“I won’t be dragging her-”
“Fine, coupley things.”
“You can do coupley things with Simon.”
“It’s not the same.”
“What if,” you interrupt the two. “What if we go out together?”
They both are ready to object when you quickly add, “you, me, Anthony, and Simon? We’re going to your family’s home anyway, why not all four of us hangout?”
Neither of them object, seemingly going along with your idea. “Good. Daphne and I will get ready while you go back to yours then we’ll meet at the restaurant?”
He nods, pulling back into his grasp. “I’ll leave on one condition.”
“What’s that?” You ask with a smile.
“A simple kiss.”
You peck his lips.
“That’s not what I meant.”
Daphne lets out a fake gag as the two of you make out.
“Go away, Anthony. You’ll see her again soon.”
Once he’s left, she drags you into your room. “Tell me everything.”
“Daph!” You chuckle.
“Spill.”
“No.”
“Come on,” she whines as you walk into the bathroom.
“I don’t kiss and tell.”
“Oh!” She chuckles, “fine. I’m just happy he stopped leaving you those notes.”
“He what?”
“Nothing. Nothing. Finish getting ready.”
#Bridgerton#bridgerton fanfiction#bridgerton fanfic#bridgerton imagine#bridgerton imagines#anthony bridgerton#anthony bridgerton x reader#anthony bridgerton x female reader#anthony bridgerton imagine#anthony bridgerton imagines#anthony bridgerton x fem reader#anthony bridgerton x fem!reader#crazyk-imagine
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I’m enjoying this Irwins Au so much
Can you give a glimpse of Irwins Grucy or Lucy with Edmund (i feel like she and Sophie are the most similar and reading Sophie’s made me think of Lucy)
"You could be part of the pack, if you wanted? It’s my family’s ethos to make sure no creature ever gets left behind - and you, Lucy? I’d stay by your side forever if you wanted me to."
Following this offer by Gregory, Lucy intertwined her fingers with his and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, pulling back to regard him with a soft expression and shimmering eyes.
"Having lunch with you is the best part of my day." she admitted.
"Mine too." he squeezed her hand back, his face warming with elation that she felt the same way he felt about her.
"But I'm scared." she swallowed and in spite of her anxiety, she maintained eye contact with him, wanting him to understand her better, for him to know that the issues lay firmly with herself and not at all with him. "I'm scared of getting too attached, of growing too fond of you and ending up left behind and forgotten about."
Gregory clasped her hand tighter in his, regarding her with earnest concern. "Has it happened before?" he asked her delicately.
Lucy gave a timid nod. "Perhaps it was foolish on my part,"
"Whoever has done wrong by you is the foolish one. How anyone could even think of leaving you behind, of ever losing sight of you, of ever forgetting you... they're the fool. Not you, Lucy. Never you."
"But perhaps I was too much for them, or maybe I was not enough," she suggested - even after being screwed over by those who she had been closest to, she still didn't have it in her heart to speak ill of them, still feeling the need to defend them even though deep down she knew none of them would ever jump to her defence.
"Impossible, Luce." Gregory stated firmly. "You are more than enough; you are perfect."
He had said it so simply, without any pretense or side, and Lucy couldn't help herself. She leaned in and pressed her lips against his, feeling instantly safe and assured, and when he kissed her back and wrapped his arms around her, for the first time she felt truly loved.
He invited her to his nephew George's first birthday party the following day, a party exclusive to the Bridgerton family, and though Lucy felt out of place at first, it didn't last long.
As soon as she arrived hand in hand with Gregory she was eagerly greeted by Hyacinth St. Clair carrying the birthday boy. Little George was instantly smitten with his uncle's companion, squeaking to get her attention and then giggling and hiding his face in his mother's hair, peeking back at Lucy only to giggle and blush harder.
"Looks like you've got competition, Greg." Michael had laughed and clapped his brother-in-law on the back.
"Yeah, you'd better watch out." Gareth chimed in with a grin. "Your competition's cuter than you and he knows it." he remarked as his baby son batted his eyes and gave Lucy a dimpled smile.
Conversation ended up flowing so naturally between Lucy and all of Gregory's siblings and in-laws, and his various nieces and nephews were all excited to meet her and include her in their games and dancing. The people she had been apprehensive of meeting the most, however, were actually Gregory's parents. Lucy was convinced that if they didn't like and approve of her, then Gregory wouldn't hesitate to chuck her and leave her to the same fate she had grown far too accustomed to.
"They're gonna love you, Luce." Gregory kissed her cheek. "How could they not?"
She met Violet first and much to Lucy's relief Gregory's mother was delighted to meet her, saying how highly her son had spoken of her and how wonderful it was to finally meet her. She reminded Lucy so much of her own mother, a mother she dearly missed, and she and Violet ended up wittering away for a whole hour that flew by without either of the pair realising.
Then, once he had resurfaced from playing with his grandchildren, Edmund Bridgerton appeared and greeted Lucy with the biggest grin.
"And you must be the lovely Lucy!" Edmund boomed, his eyes lit up as soon as he took in the young woman who he knew his youngest son was crazy about. "We've all been dying to meet you!" he enthused in earnest and engulfed her in a big hug. "And from what I've heard about you, you're gonna fit right in."
Lucy had nearly teared up right then and there, to be as automatically accepted by the Bridgertons as she had been was beyond her wildest dreaming.
For the next few months she was showered with nothing but love and fondness from Gregory and his family. His nieces and nephews were always overjoyed to see her, his siblings chatted her ear off at every opportunity, the Bridgerton spouses always swung by to check in on her, Violet constantly invited her over for dinner, and Edmund made sure he stopped by her office everyday to ask after not just the progress in the program she was working on but asking after her and making sure she was alright.
Everything seemed too good to be true - and then Lucy discovered she was pregnant and she freaked out. She and Gregory had barely been together six months and she was terrified the unexpected pregnancy would scare him off, would make him realise she wasn't enough for him and drop her like a hot potato, leaving both her and the baby behind. Gregory was immediately alarmed when he opened the door to her fearful face, pulling her inside and asking her what had happened.
"I'm pregnant." she breathed out, her eyes shaking as she dreaded his rejection - but what she hadn't expected was for him to scarper down the hall and into his bedroom.
She hurried after him, mightily confused, and when she appeared in the doorway of his bedroom he was running back from the open drawer of his desk, tripping over his wastepaper basket in his rush and ending up flat on his face at her feet.
"Greg?" she trembled. "Are you okay? I'm so sor-"
"Marry me!" Gregory had pulled himself up to his knees, opening the velvet box in his hands before quickly realising the ring was hanging upside down and twisting the box round so it was properly presented. "I'm sorry, I should have done this ages ago,"
"What?" Lucy couldn't quite believe what was happening - far from being turned out by him, she was being proposed to?
"I mean we had been together a month when Milo asked when I was going to marry you and I knew right then that I would one day and that same day I went out and bought this so I should have proposed to you then but I didn't want to scare you off but now you're gonna have our baby so of course I want to marry you more than ever before but I've wanted to marry you for the last four months,"
"Gregory!" she exclaimed to bring a stop to his rambling. "You... you want to marry me?" she squeaked. "And... and you're not mad about the baby?"
Confusion marred Gregory's face before he burst into a smile. "Of course I want to marry you, Luce! You make me so happy and the thought of being your husband is so thrilling! But not as thrilling as being the father of your child! I cannot believe I'm so lucky to spend the rest of my - oh shit!" His eyes rounded in panic. "You never actually said yes, did you? Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!"
"Greg," Lucy tried to calm him down.
"No, no, no! Dammit this isn't romantic at all!" Gregory fretted. "It looks like I'm only proposing because you're pregnant - and asking you to marry me right by my dirty washing? God, I'm such an idiot!"
"Greg!" Lucy cried out, grabbing him by the face, her thumbs pressing against his lips to shut him up.
His eyes shone up at hers worriedly and she realised he was now the one afraid of being rejected - he was scared of losing her.
"You are the most romantic person I have ever met." she told him softly. "Everything you've ever said to me, everything you've ever done for me, everything about you, Gregory, is so inherently romantic. I was so scared you wouldn't want me anymore when I told you I was pregnant,"
"Never." Gregory spoke against her thumbs, his eyes wide as her words sunk in, pressing a kiss against the pads of her thumbs to emphasise his point.
"But you, Gregory Bridgerton, are the most wonderful man I've ever met. I love you with my whole heart... and if you'll have me, I'd love nothing more than to be your wife."
Gregory surged up, kissing her passionately, clutching her to him, coveting her dearly, never wanting to let her go -
"Oh shit, wait, here," Gregory drew back, falling to his knees, cursing to himself as he bent one of his knees, making Lucy giggle, and then slipped the ring on her finger, "there." he sighed, kissing her fingers as they both took in the sight of the diamond glimmering on her hand. "I'm sorry, this wasn't how I imagined proposing to you," he began regretfully
"It's perfect." a smile broke out on Lucy's face, one she had managed to contain until now. "You're perfect."
"That would be you, my love." he beamed back and in the next second Lucy had flung herself on him, toppling him over as she kissed him fervently.
Later on at the Bridgerton family dinner, Lucy had been nervous to announce not just their engagement but her pregnancy, worried his family would think they're rushing into things, apprehensive that they could go the distance and that she didn't truly belong - though really, she should have known better at that point.
The Bridgertons cheered ecstatically and were quick to congratulate the happy couple, with Edmund being one of the first to pull Lucy into a hug.
"Welcome to the pack, Lucy." he said - and from that moment forward, Lucy knew she had finally found her people.
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masterlist
albums masterlist
BRIDGERTON
anthony bridgerton
burn
When you got married, you presumed Anthony would cease his rakish behaviours. Evidently not.
it's quiet uptown
After tragedy strikes, Anthony spends his time building the bridge between the two of you once more. Will you ever forgive him?
in my mind
In a feverish haze, Anthony calls for another woman. You hope he hasn't returned to old habits. But the mind is cruel.
benedict bridgerton
i don’t need your love
You met Benedict at one of Granville’s ‘parties’ and fell in love. Unfortunately you had to marry an old man to save your family and now must return to your husband.
marriage is an economic proposition
You've been in love with Benedict your whole life, but he never seemed to acknowledge it. When you return to the city for your debut, he finally seems to notice you. But will it be too late?
bridgerton sister
slipping through my fingers
You lament with your mama on your little sister’s wedding day, worried for when it is your Elizabeth’s turn.
i won’t say i’m in love
You’re in love but refuse to admit. Your brothers try to help you out a little.
sibling rivalry
Your husband finds out every quickly that you and your siblings are incredibly competitive.
written on these walls
Little moments with your family that remind you just how much love exists in the Bridgerton household.
autumn rain
Tragedy has a habit of strengthening relationships.
love and marriage
You once had your life planned out to the last letter. When those plans are disrupted, your life begins to spiral out of your control.
men are stupid
When some man gets too handsy, thinking you’re an easy target, you show him just how a Bridgerton handles trash.
surface pressure
Being the oldest Bridgerton sister is much harder than anyone expects, but somehow your family always knows how to make it better.
SHADOW AND BONE
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Pain in My Heart // Benedict Bridgerton
Request: Could I please request a Bridgerton imagine where Eloise or Daphne are trying to matchmake Reader with one of their brothers (you can pick which one) but Reader actually hits it off with another brother who's in love at first sight (again, your choice!!). - @libraryoffandomsuniverse
A/N: I am so sorry for how long this has taken!! I hope I have done your request justice. I had a lot of fun writing this, I’m pretty proud of what I’ve come up so I hope you like!! Thank you for requesting! Title: Pain in My Heart - Otis Redding
Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader (Platonic), Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader (Romantic)
Warnings: pining, mutual pining, awful flirting (I can't write it for the life in me), unrequited love (?), a pride and prejudice moment, love confessions, fluff, very very light angst.
Word count: 4.7k
There wasn’t a lot that Daphne and Eloise Bridgerton had in common. It was thought by their mother that due to their closeness in age, they would get along swimmingly. However, by the time that Eloise could speak for herself, it became increasingly clear that there were to be no two people different than that of Eloise and Daphne.
However, whilst the two did not share the same tastes in music or literature, they were united in the hope that they would see their elder brothers happily in love.
It is on a Wednesday in the middle of February when Daphne decides that it is time for her eldest brother, Anthony, to find a wife.
Her decision is made when Anthony stalks into the family drawing room. The only sign of his anger being the blazing of his eyes. Dramatically, he throws himself onto the closest couch, his legs stretching across the pale blue fabric as he laments the meddling of mothers.
Daphne barely represses the urge to roll her eyes. She could tell that Eloise was having a hard time not telling her brother how easy he had it in comparison to rights of women and marriage.
Thankfully, however, Anthony is saved from such a lecture by the announcement of a beloved friend. (Y/N) (Y/L/N) had known the Bridgerton family for as long as she had been alive. The same age as Daphne, the two had fallen into an easy friendship that grew more cherished the more time passed.
Upon her announcement, Anthony sits up with keen interest. An action not missed by both Daphne and Eloise – they share a look, one only understood by sisters with masses of brothers.
“Dear (Y/N),” Daphne greets, standing from her chair to greet her lifelong friend, “How have you been?”
“I’ve been very well though it has only been a couple of days since you saw me last.”
Daphne laughs; a light and airy sound. “I can still miss you in that time. Come, sit by me and we can catch up.”
The two women are soon joined by Eloise who places her book down on the table, spine up so she does not lose her page. From where they sit, neither Anthony nor Benedict can hear what the women seem to be whispering about though it seems to be of a serious issue with grave looks on their faces.
Benedict decides that he doesn’t like the look of frustration on her face; the furrow of her brows. If it wouldn’t raise questions of his sanity, he would press his thumb to the furrow, smoothing out her brow so not a trace of the worry remained.
“(Y/N),” Anthony calls, interrupting the conversation currently taking place between the three women, “Would you be attending Lord and Lady Hopton’s ball later on this week? Lord Hopton has done nothing but discuss the expense being put into the event.”
(Y/N) swallows her small sip of tea, placing the cup and saucer down on the table before answering the eldest Bridgerton. “I do plan on attending,” She smiles, fiddling with her gloved fingers.
A pleased smile breaks out across Anthony’s face as he nods. Turning away from her, Anthony walks back to the pale blue couch that only mere moments ago he had thrown himself across in vexation at his dear mother. Now, he sits down gently, making sure every ounce of his nobility is on show.
Benedict cannot help but roll his eyes at the antics of his elder brother. As if on a covert mission for the crown, Benedict’s gaze slides back to her – runs over her figure, taking in the way her dress sits on her form and the way her smile lights up her whole face. He’s a fool in love, he realises, but he would rather be a fool in love with her than a fool in love with anyone else.
It’s as if he finally understands what the poets write about; how the artists never paint more than their muse. As Benedict peers down at the sketchbook in his hands, he comes to realise that he has been drawing her for months. He has found his muse and it’s close to breaking him when he sees the plotting glance shared between Daphne and Eloise.
(Y/N) sits at the table, utterly unaware of the plan being concocted between his sisters. He has the urge to scream, to yell but he keeps quiet. Benedict becomes the very definition of decorum; smiling politely at her when their eyes meet from across the room. The very moment sends his heart skipping a beat before picking up a rhythm he isn’t certain is compatible with life. He has to stop himself from reaching up to grab his chest to ensure his heart doesn’t beat right out of it.
All too soon the moment is over, and she returns to laughing with his younger sisters, but even she knows that something has changed between them. (Y/N) wasn’t one to believe in love at first sight; the very notion belonging only to fairytales, but she, herself, could not deny the thrill that overtook her body when she met the blue eyes of Benedict Bridgerton.
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Lord and Lady Hopton owned one of the last remaining Tudor residences in London. Many had fallen during the reformation, but in some strange stroke of luck, the Hopton’s home had remained largely undamaged. From there, it passed down the male line as all properties and titles were wont to do in such a society.
The current Lord and Lady prided themselves on the tracking of their lineage, dedicating themselves to the conservation of their home. It was rare for them to throw a ball such as this one, but with the favourable weather, Lady Hopton was able to convince her husband it would be well enough for the courtyard to be used to entertain their nearest and dearest.
There was no set theme; an idea many were grateful for. As much as (Y/N) loved the dress up, the competitive nature between eligible ladies wasn’t something she was in the mood for.
The atmosphere is much more relaxed as (Y/N) takes a turn about the room, smiling politely at the women she has grown up with in London society. They would be civil towards each other, but there was no real friendships forged. (Y/N) was quite content with the Bridgerton brood.
Though they had arrived together, (Y/N) found herself wandering from the comforting presence of the family. She could feel Anthony’s eyes on her, and she thinks of Daphne’s suggestion from the other day; the eldest Bridgerton girl had all but suggested that (Y/N) marry Anthony.
Whilst the suggestion was flattering, (Y/N) hadn’t stopped thinking of the moment she shared with Benedict. She thinks of the moment often; remembers the way his stare felt, as if he was staring into her very soul and he liked what he found. She thinks of the way her body responded; the shiver sent through her and how she realised that she liked the way he looked at her. As if she hung the moon and stars in the sky for him, and him alone.
(Y/N) loses herself in the crowd. She wanders and wanders, watching new love form and old love strengthen as she catches sight of couples beginning their night. (Y/N) continues her ruminating until she bumps into something hard. Another body.
(Y/N) cringes when she finds herself face to face with the chest of Benedict Bridgerton. “Benedict!” She gasps, “I’m sorry.”
He steadies her with a gentle hand to her elbow. “You have nothing to apologise for. You looked to be deep in thought, I’m only sorry for interrupting you.”
(Y/N) feels her skin begin to flush. I was thinking of you, she wants to cry at the man, but she only just manages to refrain herself.
Benedict laughs before he can stop himself. “If you’re reacting like that, I have to know what you were thinking of.”
“Nothing for nosies,” She responds, a coy smile crossing her painted lips.
Benedict gasps, pressing a hand to his chest in mock hurt. “You wound me, (Y/N).”
“I’m sure you’ll recover,” (Y/N) laughs, patting Benedict’s arm in mock pity.
“I don’t know,” Benedict expresses, his eyes running over her face and outfit. “I think I’m going to need someone to nurse me back to health.”
(Y/N) feels her skin once again begin to heat at the insinuation in his words. She had encountered banter before with the Bridgerton brothers, but she had never encountered such overt flirting. Benedict’s eyes glittered with mirth; his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes – this was him. This was Benedict in his element; he was an artist, a gentleman, and a man that could render her speechless with a simple line of speech.
She finds it hard to respond for a moment; finds it hard to string two thoughts together in his intoxicating presence. She flounders for a second, watching Benedict continue to smile widely as if he had nothing better to do than waste time with her.
Eventually, she collects herself enough. She peers up at the man from under her lashes, fluttering them to the best of her ability as she whispers, “Such requests may make the recovery period a lot longer and a lot harder.”
Leaving the man speechless, (Y/N) pats his arm once more before taking her leave. Feeling hot and bothered by her encounter with Benedict, (Y/N) ambles over to drinks table. Daphne and Eloise stand there nursing their own drinks; they smile widely at their friend as she approaches the table.
“Have you given thought to what I suggested the other day?” Daphne asks; watching her best friend over the rim of her lemonade glass.
“Courting Anthony?” (Y/N) clarifies, reaching for her glass of the tepid drink. She frowns absentmindedly; it was one of the main issues with balls, they never could keep the drinks cold enough to be refreshing throughout the night. They almost always turned sour.
“The very suggestion,” (Y/N)’s dearest friend states with a smile.
“It wouldn’t work,” (Y/N) protests, urging her friends to see the truth. “We aren’t suited for each other.”
“Anthony disagrees,” Daphne chimes, looking and feeling all to superior in the conversation. “He confided to me only yesterday that he wants to court you.”
The ground is close to swallowing her whole; the walls becoming far too close for her liking. Her mouth is dry when she tries to swallow around the lump in her throat. “That wouldn’t be fair to him,” She croaks, feeling all too close to tears.
“Why not?” Daphne demands, making her vexation known by placing her hands on her hips.
“Daphne,” Eloise interrupts, glancing warily between the two women. “(Y/N) isn’t in love with Anthony. She’s in love with someone else.”
The fight leaves her beloved friend in an instant; she brings a hand to her mouth to cover the shock of Eloise’s words. “I didn’t know,” She whispers, “I wouldn’t have pushed so hard.”
“I know you wouldn’t have,” (Y/N) appeases, “I’m rather new to this.”
“Do we know who it is?” Daphne asks, unable to keep the excitement off her face as she thinks of the handful of men worthy enough to love her dear friend.
(Y/N) sighs, deciding whether to come clean and tell her longest friend that she has found herself hopelessly in love with her brother. She hadn’t even expected it. “It’s Benedict,” She eventually confesses, feeling pressured by the investigative gaze of Daphne Bridgerton.
“Benedict?” Daphne asks, confused, “As in my other brother?”
“The very same,” (Y/N) comments lightly… too lightly as if ready to be on the defence for her feelings for Benedict.
Daphne blinks once, twice before her face breaks with the most beautiful smile. “Oh (Y/N)!” She cries, “This is wonderful!”
“He might not love me back,” (Y/N) whispers, doing her best to keep a light spin on the situation but the idea that Benedict may not return her feelings hurts far more than it should.
“And Anthony still wants to court you,” Eloise reminds her, her voice close to pity.
“Speaking of the devil,” Daphne murmurs with a smile on her face, “Anthony is heading this way.”
“He is?” (Y/N) asks, pivoting on the spot to the find the eldest Bridgerton making his way through the crowd. He smiles at his sisters, briefly checking their glasses to ensure they were sticking strictly to the lemonade offered. When he is suited with what he finds, he turns to (Y/N) and holds out his hand. “Would you care to dance?” He asks her with a confident smile.
She nods her consent, taking his offered hand and allowing herself to be led to the floor. Anthony leads her expertly across the floor; lessons as a child and years in the London society forging him to be an impressive dancer. He makes her laugh as they continue dance, and whilst (Y/N) has a good time with the eldest Bridgerton, she cannot see herself falling for the man like she can see her entire future with Benedict.
------------
The ball had wound down naturally; families and lovers beginning to make their way home through the early morning London streets. (Y/N) travels with the Bridgertons, having arrived with them in the first place. Daphne focuses on the streets of London, doing her best not to fall asleep before getting home to her bed.
“How are you getting home?” Daphne asks, not removing her gaze from the darkened streets of the capital city.
“I’m not sure, I don’t want to have to wait for another carriage,” (Y/N) complains, holding a hand to her mouth to cover a yawn that had slipped out. The tiredness was clinging to her bones now; she wanted nothing more to crawl into her own bed, sink into the pillows and fall into a dreamworld where Benedict climbs into the other side of the bed.
“Stay with us,” Eloise invites, meeting Anthony’s eyes.
“I wouldn’t be an imposition?” (Y/N) asks smally; the last thing she wanted was to be burden on her friends.
“You never could be,” Anthony smiles, “You’re always welcome to stay the night.”
“Thank you, Anthony,” She whispers, reaching for his hand in the dark and squeezing.
Silence falls for the rest of the ride; the weariness of each of them punctuating the air, creating a warmer atmosphere that leaves (Y/N) blinking away sleep. Eloise does her best to remain awake, but her head soon winds up on Anthony’s shoulder to which the man looks the surprised. He recovers quickly, adjusting his younger sister to make her more comfortable.
The Bridgerton siblings and (Y/N) all sigh in blessed relief when the carriage rolls to a stop outside Bridgerton House. The door opening lets in a cold blast of air, making her shiver as she reaches for the handle to help herself down.
“Here,” Benedict’s voice sounds in the dark light of night, “Let me help you.”
His hand reaches for hers; it clasps hers gently as he helps her down from the carriage. All too soon, his hand falls from hers and (Y/N) is left feeling bereft from the absence of his touch. “Thank you,” She whispers, taking a risk and glancing up at the blue eyes already fixed steadily on her.
“You’re welcome,” He murmurs. Benedict glances back to the carriage to find the rest of his family descending on them. “Goodnight,” He whispers, ducking his head in a bow and leaving her on the steps of Bridgerton House.
(Y/N) watches the man depart in somewhat of a daze. If she focused hard enough, she could still feel his hand in hers. She could feel every fingerprint, every crease, every line in his palm. She could feel it all; she wanted to feel more. She wanted everything with that man; would happily offer up her everything for a single glimpse at what it could be like to wake up in his arms and be happy.
Sighing heavily, she touches a hand to her forehead, pausing in the grand entryway of the Bridgerton family home. She felt so keenly for the man that she knew she would suffer the worst fate to man should he not return her feelings: heartbreak.
“(Y/N)?” Anthony calls from the door, his arm around Eloise’s waist. “Would you meet me in my study? I need to talk to you.”
“Of course,” She allows, smiling at the sight before her. Anthony whispers something to his sister to which Eloise offers her goodnights and begins to climb the stairs to her room, Anthony following behind her with a worried look on his face that only a beloved brother could master.
Anthony’s study smelled of wood polish; the mahogany desk sitting by the windows being the main feature of the room. It’s dark wood providing the much of the fragrance in the room; it’s a comforting scent. (Y/N) smiles when she realises that it’s comforting as it reminds her of the Viscount; the scent of his spicy cologne intermingled with the wood, becoming one and the same.
“Thank you for waiting,” Anthony whispers, closing the door behind him, “I know how tired you are, but I really wanted to speak to you.”
“Whatever’s the matter?”
Suddenly, Anthony no longer holds the prowess of a Viscount but rather, looks like the eighteen year old boy handed a peerage all too soon. He runs a hand through his hair out of nerves, pacing back and forth behind his desk. Eventually, he comes to a slow stop, resting his hands on the back of his father’s ageing chair. “Have you given any thought to your future?”
“It’s been on my mind more and more these days,” She answers honestly. It’s all she has thought of since her eyes met Benedict’s across the room and she got a glimpse into what her mornings, afternoons, evenings with the man could be like.
“I think we could be good together,” Anthony argues, offering up a slice of his heart for the taking, “I think we work well together.”
“Anthony, may I be honest with you for a moment?”
“I’d hope for nothing more.”
She takes a deep breath; steeling her nerves before smiling at the Viscount. “With all due respect, I don’t think you do love me.”
Anthony moves to interrupt her; a flash of anger and upset in his eyes. He quietens when she holds up a single hand; begging him to let her continue. “Anthony, I think you were looking for someone to stop your mother from pestering you about marriage. I just happened to walk into the room at the right moment.”
Anthony frowns; he takes in (Y/N)’s words, letting them roll around his mind as he thinks back to the first day when he realised he could truly love the woman sitting in front of him. Violet Bridgerton had been on him from the moment he walked through the front door; producing yet another list of eligible women in London that he could find a potential match in. He had taken the list from his beloved mother and in the privacy of his study, he had ripped the list to tiny pieces making sure that none of the names were legible.
On some level, he has always loved her. (Y/N) had been in his life from the very day she was born; mother being friends, Violet able to offer (Y/N)’s advice as she was her firstborn. At this point, Violet was a seasoned expert on motherhood. Anthony had always known of the girl that was best friends with Daphne; he had watched her grow up. On some level, he has always had some feeling for her.
He knows know, though, that those feelings could never broach romance. There was too deep an affection between them.
“You’re right,” Anthony states, “It wouldn’t be a love match.”
“It wouldn’t,” She affirms, taking a seat in front of the large, wooden desk. Silhouettes of his parents and siblings decorate the space; it brings a fond smile to her face. Anthony presented a strong front, but in private, he was as much the adoring son and brother.
“But you think you have found your love match,” Anthony declares, wanting to clear the air.
“I’m not sure,” She laughs mirthlessly. “I have no clue as to whether he feels the same.”
“He’d be an idiot, not to,” Anthony compliments, “Do I know the lucky man?”
(Y/N) looks sheepish as she stares at the Viscount. She had already confessed to Daphne and Eloise – what harm could one more person do?
“It’s Benedict.”
“You love him,” Anthony whispers; not an accusation, not an ounce of anger in his voice. A simple fact stated for the room.
(Y/N) nods. “I do. I love him with all that I am and all that I know I could be.”
A sad, bittersweet smile crosses Anthony’s face; he won’t speak of how the words hurt him. He reaches for her hand and clasps it tightly between both of his.
“Go to him,” He whispers, “You have my blessing.”
(Y/N) stands. Her intention is to leave the room and find the Bridgerton who had so readily taken root within her heart, but first she crosses to where Anthony stands behind his desk. He watches her with curious eyes as the silk of her glove brushes his cheek; his eye flutter closed when he feels the featherlight press of her lips and the whisper of her gratitude.
Anthony keeps his eyes closed when she pulls away from him; he keeps them closed until he hears the tell-tale click of the door. It is only then that Anthony allows himself to open his eyes and peer into the heartbreak now cracking open his chest. Not for the love he though he felt, but for the utter want racing through his body. He wants a love like that; he was going to find a love like that.
They would be happy together; he thinks to himself as he breathes in the floral scent of her perfume. They would be happy together, perfectly suited to the point that Anthony craves such intimacy. One day; he promises, one day he would hold such a treasure within his hands.
-------------
Bridgerton House remained warm and inviting even after the family had long retired for bed. The sconces lining the walls still lit; their warm light easy on anyone’s eyes should they need to traverse the hallways for whatever reason.
The path to Benedict’s room isn’t one she has taken often. Thinking on it, (Y/N) realises that save for being shown the door on her first ever visit to the London home, she has not stepped foot close to the room since. Until tonight, that is.
Her skirts swish delicately underfoot as (Y/N) makes her way to his room. She doesn’t dare utter a single breath for the fear of being caught; all around her slumber her closest friends. If she were caught by a member of staff, her reputation balanced on being ruined.
Her hand trembles as she clenches it into a fist, raises it to the plain white door and knocks twice. She waits on the threshold, twisting her fingers into her skirts – a nervous habit she’s had since she was a child. She was thankful that she no longer bit her nails down to the bed.
“Come in,” calls his quiet voice and her nerves only heighten. Taking a deep breath, she pushes open the door that could reveal her future.
“(Y/N),” Benedict gasps, the deep v of his shirt falling open, revealing far more of his bare chest than (Y/N) had expected to see tonight.
“I wanted to talk to you,” She whispers, hovering between the doorway and his room. She does her best to not stare at the defined muscles on display but loses the battle. Her eyes run over the parts of his muscular torso and the strong forearms shown with the sleeves of white shirt rolled up. She didn’t think it was possible to be attracted to the forearms of a person, but here was Benedict proving her wrong.
“What if you get caught?” He whisper-asks, worry lacing his tone as he glances at something behind her. She turns on instinct only to find an empty hallway and three lit sconces.
“Anthony knows where I am,” She retorts, stepping further into Benedict’s room.
“Anthony?”
“He gave me his blessing.”
“To enter my room… unattended… late at night?”
“Essentially, yes,” She smiles, thinking back to her conversation with the Viscount.
“Why were you talking to Anthony?” Benedict asks before he can stop himself. He doesn’t like the simmering jealousy he feels that the picture of (Y/N) alone with Anthony in his study. He clears his throat to chase away the hollow ache of envy; he doesn’t want to picture the conversation. He doesn’t think he could handle it.
“He asked me to court him.”
“Oh,” Benedict responds, feeling his heart begin to crack in his chest. “What did you say?”
“I told him I couldn’t. We wouldn’t suit each other and one other thing.”
“What other thing?”
“I don’t love him. I love someone else.”
“You do? Do I know them?”
(Y/N) laughs, stretching her arms out as she gestures to Benedict’s bedroom. “I’m stood in your room in the middle of the night, Benedict, with full knowledge that if I were to be caught by any of the staff, I would be ruined. What does that tell you?”
Benedict frowns, refusing to let himself fall into the hope growing in his chest. He feels like Icarus; too close to the sun, too close to thing he wants most in this world.
“Stop this pain in my heart,” She commands weakly. “Stop this pain and tell me if you feel the same. If you don’t, I understand but I’d ask you not to tell anyone of this midnight visit.”
His mouth runs dry, and he finds it hard to answer. He’s falling, falling, falling for the woman stood across from him and he cannot find the words to accurately describe the depth of his feelings for her. That day in the drawing room – he’s known her for years, always been aware of her, but that day, it was as if he was finally seeing her for the pure beauty that she inhabits. She could rival Aphrodite herself.
Upset shutters across (Y/N)’s face as she nods twice, trying her best to keep the burn of tears at bay. “It’s okay, Benedict,” She whispers, turning for the door, “Thank you for listening.”
At the last moment, Benedict reaches out and snatches her wrist. “Don’t go,” He pleads, “Don’t leave me. I don’t think I could live with myself if you left me.”
“I don’t understand,” She whispers; confusion lacing her voice. Her eyebrows furrow as she stares at the man before her, “You didn’t say anything. You stayed silent; I took that as my cue to leave.”
Benedict shakes his head. “Don’t go,” He whispers, bringing a hand up to card through the loose strands of hair framing her face. He almost preens as she leans into his touch. “I feel the same, I love you just the same,” Benedict confesses; feeling the weight leave his chest.
“You do?” She asks; her voice small but hopeful.
“I do,” Benedict smiles, brushing her cheek with his finger, “I think I always have, but I didn’t realise until recently.”
(Y/N) sniffles as tears threaten to make an appearance. She laughs wetly, unable to stop the giggle from leaving her mouth as Benedict wipes away the tears. “I hope those are happy tears,” He murmurs wryly.
“They are,” She answers, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him down to her level. “They definitely are.”
“Good,” He answers.
Their faces are so close now it would only take a fraction of a movement to press their lips together; to seal the promise of their union. “Kiss me, Benedict,” She whispers; need lacing her voice as she stares into his famously blue eyes.
Benedict doesn’t need to be told twice; it isn’t often he gets to kiss a goddess.
********
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Favourite brother - Part 2
A/N: well, part one went down surprisingly well!
“So, Daphne is now a duchess...”
Y/N raised her eyebrows expectantly at her brother, waiting for him to finish his comment. She looked back down at her embroidery and poked the needle through the fabric. “And?”
Colin leant forward in his chair. “Perhaps, now, the ton will be watching you.”
Y/N let out a unladylike snort. “Oh, please. As long as Miss Thompson is around and as long as Daphne and Simon are in their ‘newlywed’ bliss, I will always be the wallflower of the family.”
Colin eyed his sister with a sad gaze. He didn’t miss the way she stabbed her needle through the fabric a little harder than necessary nor the way she practically glowered at Anthony (probably hoping he would spontaneously combust).
“Colin, I can feel you staring at me,” Y/N said, looking up from her embroidery to give her brother a level stare. “What is it?”
“You truly don’t believe you are worth anything, do you?”
Y/N paused, needle halfway through the fabric. She slowly pushed it through, trying to ignore the burning in her eyes.
Colin was right. She didn’t see herself as worthy of anything. Compared to Daphne who’d captured the eye of the ton and then a duke and a prince, she’d had nothing. Her three older brothers had always been swarmed with suitors and Y/N had truly believed that, maybe, one day, it would’ve been like that for her.
But apart from an almost marriage to Nigel Berbrooke that was out of spite to her brother and sister and was unwanted by her, she had had no proposals and no suitors.
A fact she wanted to blame Anthony for but that Y/N knew was down to nothing more than bad luck.
If she’d made her debut a year later it would’ve been the same story. Everyone would’ve been captivated by Eloise and she would’ve been forgotten. Or everyone would’ve been terrified of Eloise and been forced to look at Y/N.
Either or.
When you were a twin of someone who excelled in everything you didn’t, it was easy to be overlooked and forgotten - especially in a family of nine.
But up until she and Daphne came of age, she hadn’t felt overlooked. She’d felt loved and seen as an equal to her brothers. Anthony hadn’t been so protective (He'd always been protective of them all. But compared to how Benedict was when someone upset or threatened his family, Anthony was a saint.).
Everyone fawned over Daphne when she began courting Simon - and rightfully so. But Y/N’s prospects and potential suitors had become nothing more than polite conversation between her and her ladies maid.
“Y/N?”
Y/N inhaled sharply and jumped slightly at Colin’s voice. She looked over at him and gave him a somewhat unconvincing smile. “I’m fine. I just feel somewhat underwhelming compared to my sister,” she replied, turning her eyes back to her embroidery.
Which was beginning to look less and less like a violet and more like an oddly shaped duck.
Colin, sensing his sister wasn’t in the mood to be proved wrong, left the conversation there. He also didn’t want to end up with a sewing needle in his eye - the chances of which were becoming increasingly likely the more he poked and prodded.
It was a beautiful ballroom.
There were candles in every window and garlands of flowers draped across the walls with petals dashed across the floor.
The garden was a lit with numerous furnaces and torches that blazed in the summer night and the fountain set in the centre of the sprawling, immaculate hedges and flowers trickled away.
None of the beauty, however, was making Y/N feel any better about being left out of yet another ball.
She’d been standing on the sidelines watching ever since she’d arrived. Benedict had offered to dance with her but Y/N hadn’t wanted to be mentioned in Lady Whistledown for dancing with no one but her own brothers so had declined the invitation.
Instead she chose to stand and watch the beautiful couples dance around the room as she sulked and drank yet another glass of lemonade.
“Why are you skulking back here?” Anthony asked, approaching his sister with a confused, concerned and curious expression.
Y/N swallowed the rather large gulp of lemonade she’d taken and tried not to give her brother a glare. “No one’s asked me to dance.”
“I’m sure Colin -”
“That is not the point, Anthony!” Y/N exclaimed, cutting him off. “I’ve had no one to dance with apart from my brother’s and Simon, who is now my brother too!” She almost growled but remembered that half the ton were around and forced herself to calm down. “Daphne has been the centre of everyone’s attention and had the suitors falling at het feet. I thought that now she’s married, they’d look to me - but apparently no one settles for second best.”
Anthony stared at his sister. “Y/N, you’re not second best to anyone.”
Y/N scoffed. She set her empty lemonade glass down, slightly worried she was going to through it at her brother’s head. “Then why haven’t you looked at me twice all season, Anthony? You walked off at my very first ball, leaving me to flounder. You never escorted me - not even tonight! You have, so far, not cared about who comes calling for me - which was no one, by the way - and you don’t care that I have had no suitors, no callers and no proposals!”
She was breathing fast and could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She was angry. She was so angry and even though most of the anger was at the ton for being so vain, she couldn’t very well direct it at a ballroom full of people.
Instead she directed it at her older brother, the one who should’ve looked out for her and guided her through her first season in society but didn’t.
Anthony, for once, had the decency to look hurt by his sister’s accusations. He had a broken look on his face as he realised she was right and that he’d ignored her. He was stunned into silence.
But Y/N hadn’t want pitiful silence, she’d wanted an argument - for Anthony to get angry at her and prove her wrong but also right.
“Say something!” Y/N snapped, glaring at Anthony.
Benedict and Colin had noticed the, somewhat heated argument, and were trying to weave their way through the crowd to intervene before one of them snapped and punched the other.
Anthony opened his mouth and closed it again. He was speechless - a rare feat, indeed.
Y/N scoffed and shook her head. “Fine.”
She turned on her heel and disappeared through the crowd, heading towards the door to the garden.
Benedict and Colin made it to Anthony’s side and frowned.
“What was that all about?” Benedict asked, looking at Anthony expectantly.
Anthony swallowed and forced himself to look at his brother. “She hates me.”
Colin, who had sensed the argument was coming, put a hand on Anthony’s arm. “No, she doesn’t. She’s angry at the world and the expectations society place on her shoulders. All she really wants, Anthony, is you.”
“I’ve ignored her almost this entire season,” Anthony said, staring at Colin. “How...”
“There’s still a few weeks left of the season, though,” Colin reminded him. He gestured to the door that Y/N had fled through. “Go on.”
Anthony didn’t need anymore encouragement, he brushed past his brother’s and all but marched through the crowd towards the door.
Y/N had disappeared out onto the fire lit terrace of the house and was leaning on the stone bannister, trying to calm down.
She loved her brother. Truly, she did. She also knew that he would never do anything to ruin her prospects intentionally.
That didn’t, however, stop her from wanting to throttle him.
“Y/N?”
Y/N closed her eyes and inhaled. She could feel Anthony watching her and heard his footsteps approaching closer as he walked up to her.
“Are you alright?”
There was concern - genuine concern - in his voice. Y/N was usually good at keeping her emotions together and not breaking down until she was either with her mother or on her own.
But all it took was Anthony’s concerned question and a gentle hand on her shoulder for her to lose any control she’d had.
Y/N felt the tears drip down her face and turned to Anthony, practically throwing her arms around him and clinging on to him as if he was the only thing keeping her afloat.
Slightly surprised by her sudden change in emotion, it took Anthony a moment to catch-up with the fact his sister was sobbing in to his arms and needed, not Lord Bridgerton, but her big brother.
Anthony wrapped his arms around her and held her as she sobbed, waiting for her to speak.
Y/N eventually managed to get control of her emotions again and she stepped away from Anthony, wiping her eyes as delicately as she could to avoid ruining her make-up.
“Sorry.”
“Never apologise for being human,” Anthony said softly, sitting next to her on a bench.
Y/N sighed. “I’m just... compared to Daphne I am nothing. No one has even looked twice at me this entire season. I’m her sister and nothing more.”
Anthony put a hand on her knee. “Do you truly believe that?” He asked, looking her in the eye.
“I don’t know. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. All I wish is for someone, anyone, to look at me and call on me because they like me. Not because they wanted an easy way to my sister or to you or to Eloise or to anyone who isn’t me!”
“Y/N, you are a wonderful young lady and if those men can’t see it -”
“Then they’re not worth my time, I know,” she said, shooting Anthony an amused smile. “You sound like Benedict.”
“I believe you meant that Benedict sounds like me, he did come second after all,” Anthony quipped.
Y/N smacked her brother on the arm. She shook her head with a smiles she tried not to laugh.
“Come on,” Anthony said, standing up and holding a hand out to her. “Will you do me the honour of a dance, Miss Bridgerton?”
Y/N took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. “Of course, Lord Bridgerton.”
“Excuse me, Miss Bridgerton?”
Y/N turned around. A young man, Lord Durrell if she remembered correctly, was standing in front of her looking slightly anxious.
“Yes, Lord Durrell?” Anthony asked, raising his eyebrows in his trademark brooding, older brother way.
“I was wondering if you would do me the honour of a dance this evening?” Durrell asked, looking directly at Y/N.
Y/N smiled and held out the arm that her dance card was on. “Of course, Lord Durrell. After I’ve dance with my brother, of course.”
Lord Durrell smiled and wrote his name on her card. “I look forward to it,” he said, bowing down.
Y/N curtsied slightly in response and watched as he left. She waited a few seconds and then squealed and jumped up and down.
Anthony chuckled, stepping back to avoid being hit by a flailing limb. “See, I told you.”
“No, you didn't, actually,” Y/N said, taking her brother’s arm. “You just repeated what Benedict said and gave me a hug.”
“Which is just as important.”
“Naturally.”
Anthony led Y/N to the dance floor and the two took up their positions.
“I don’t say this often enough,” Y/N said as they danced around the room, “but I’m so glad you’re my brother, Anthony.”
Anthony managed to concel his surprise by twirling Y/N around and using the brief moment she wasn’t looking to show his surprise before hiding it again.
“I’m incredibly lucky to have you in my life,” she continued, oblivious. “I just wanted you to know that.”
Anthony nodded and smiled, twirling her around again.
Later on, however, when he was in his own lodgings away from prying eyes, Anthony looked back on the moment and had to hide his tears in a bottle of whiskey and the mountain of paperwork he had to fulfil.
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To Love Someone
Colin Bridgerton x Fem!Reader
Summary: Love doesn’t always work out how you’d like it to, and sometimes it does.
Word Count: 4.7k
Warnings: angst, jealousy, heartache, fluff, kissing, requited love
Shock. That was the very first thing you felt upon hearing what was supposed to be delightful news. What was supposed to be a celebration of the next chapter of someone’s life. But that feeling quickly subsided, for you hadn’t expected your very best friend to hold the same feelings for you as he did him. You never did, though a small part of you had hoped this was some fabricated nightmare that you would eventually wake up from. But much to your dismay, it was not.
Now, you were in attendance of yet another dinner at the Bridgerton home. There had been an extravagant event held in celebration of the engagement one week prior of course, but everything after that, even just a simple dinner seemed to be just as celebratory all the same.
Benedict and Eloise, as a matter of fact even Anthony, knew of your long-standing feelings for their brother. Feelings that now seemed absolutely ridiculous as you sat before the happy couple, feelings that made your heart crack pitifully within your chest. They knew, and they were rather surprised to hear the announcement as well because they were sure you were the perfect match. They were certain with the way they always caught him staring when you weren’t looking.
“This cake is rather delightful, is it not, Y/n/n?” Eloise murmurs to you once she catches your painfully longing gaze lingering on her brother.
You break away from him with furrowed brows after she kicks you under the table, clearing your throat in a poor attempt to suppress the lump forming within it. You look at her for a moment, scrambling to remember the words you only half-heard her say. “Yes, I suppose it is.”
You pick at said cake with your fancy fork clutched in your shaky hand, hearing her soft sigh in defeat beside you. She knew her attempts at distraction were futile, valiant yes, but futile. It was hard to watch you sit there and sulk; she did not quite know what it felt like to be heartbroken, but she couldn’t imagine it to be easy. So, she knew she must at least try and call in reinforcements, her brother.
“Y/n,” Benedict starts on your other side, nudging you with his elbow to further gain your attention. “The garden seems to be in full bloom, you don’t suppose you’d like to go for a walk with Eloise and I after dinner, would you?”
You laugh softly at their more than obvious efforts, but you nod in agreement nonetheless. “Yes, Benedict, that would be lovely.”
When things moved from the dining room to the drawing room, Violet Bridgerton had talked the three of you into staying in their company for just a bit more before you could run off. Maybe not talked into, more like told the three of you in a hushed matronly scolding. You had no choice but to oblige to her wishes.
You sat between the two on the couch, breathing out a sigh as you wring your hands in a half hearted attempt to do something. Not even talk of Lady Whistledown could capture your attention for more than a mere moment or two. Not even Benedict’s teasing jokes to draw a portrait of you and the frown seemingly permanently on your face could get you to smile for more than just a few seconds at a time. For just about everyone seemed to be enamored with Miss Andrews.
It wasn’t hard to be you will admit, she was beautiful with many talents; she has even traveled quite a bit with her family. You knew that was of interest to him. You couldn’t blame her for being so captivating, but you couldn’t bear it either. Not with the way she linked her arm around Colin’s, or the way her parents spoke so highly of her that it made your head spin.
It was when you found yourself looking at Colin that it became far too much. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away just yet, no matter how much you wanted to, no matter how much you needed to. It was when he looked at you that had done it. The conversation and laughter seemed to fade in swirls of commotion around you, the shared gaze fleeting and agonizingly slowed all the same. For it was the first time all night that he had directly looked at you and you couldn’t take it. You could not stay.
Politely, you excused yourself, making your way to the door in a rush that left Benedict and Eloise to frown at each other. The room felt all too crowded no matter the fact that it wasn’t, the uninterrupted chatter and music still continuing in your absence.
The tears became harder to ignore with your newfound time to yourself, your chest heaving in your overwhelmed state. You had made it nearly to the end of the lavish hall before you were stopped.
“Y/n?”
You take a deep breath as you closed your eyes briefly, willing the tears to dissipate before turning around with a soft smile, your best friend closer than you had thought. “Yes?”
“Are you alright? I know Hyacinth is still rather new to the piano, but it can’t be that bad, can it?” He jests, laughing softly.
You bring yourself to laugh quietly despite your pressing desire to be anything but jovial in that moment. “I am quite alright, Colin.”
His brows furrow at your obvious distress, he could tell from the very moment you arrived at his family home in the early half of the evening. He was far too oblivious to see the cause of your behavior, but not so much to not notice you’d been acting differently. He knew you were lying to him.
“What is the matter, Y/n?” He asks again as he sees you rapidly begin to grow more upset, and he reaches out for your hand.
You pull away from his grasp, averting your teary gaze elsewhere. Anywhere but him would be perfectly suitable. “Nothing is the matter, Colin.”
You were certain your words couldn’t possibly be believable, not with the way your chest had begun to rise and fall at a much more noticeable pace, and not with the way your cheeks had flushed and obvious crimson. One must be a fool to not see the clear turmoil and upset painted all over you, weaving around your every word. Each passing second had only worsened such a feeling, and the more you allowed yourself to look at him, the more trouble you had found yourself falling into. You simply could not bear it anymore.
The crease between his brows only deepens upon your dismissive behavior, his hand falling back to his side as he takes a deep breath. “Well it would appear that something is bothering you. I know you far better than to believe that, Y/n.”
You laugh humorlessly, looking down at your feet as you all but crumble in front of him. Your chest tightened and your heart felt as though it could burst. He knew it may not have been appropriate of him to do so, but he reached out to grab your hands once more and you did not fight it, for this would likely be the last time. The look on his face was a silent plea for you to tell him of your troubles, ones he hadn’t known were caused by himself. His grip was gentle and warm as he waited for you, and the feeling fluttering in your stomach was unable to be ignored.
“I know it is not proper of me to say this,” You start, and his brows remain knit together. No matter how heavily your heart had been pounding, your words spilled out before you could stop them. “But I love you. I am in love with you, and you are in love with someone else. You are to marry. That, Colin Bridgerton, is what is the matter.”
He swallows thickly, his gaze on you far too intense to hold as you clear your throat and bring yourself to pull from his grasp, fervently willing the lump within it to disappear. His mouth opens, then closes almost immediately as he tries desperately to figure out his wording though his attempts prove to be futile.
“I—I do not know what to say.”
The hurt had crashed down on you in waves, immense and unrelenting as you stood before him. The tears pressing just behind your eyes rapidly became too hard to ignore. Yet despite the anguish pulling harshly at your heart, you take a deep breath and compose yourself once more.
“There is no need to say anything at all. I just—I am sorry. I needed to tell you,” you state, straightening your posture as you lift your eyes to meet his once more. Your lip began to quiver the more you held his gaze, and with a soft and faltering smile, you offered a simple nod. “I should be leaving now.”
You turn on your heel and walk away from him, desperate for a change of scenery and desperate for a breath of fresh air. Though impossible, it felt like the lavishly decorated walls were closing in on you in that very moment.
“Y/n, wait!”
It had crossed your mind that maybe you should stop, maybe you should turn around and listen. Maybe he’d have something to say that could be just what you are hoping to hear. But you couldn’t find it in you to look at him for another moment, so you part from him and continue down the nearly vacant corridor. It was only when he was distant enough that you let your tears fall, quickly wiped away by the satin glove on your hand.
—
Dealing with the aftermath of your lovestruck confession was not an easy feat, in fact, you felt as though you never wanted to show your face to the ton again. You were perfectly content staying in the confines of your bedroom for the rest of your life. Fortunately for you, your blunder hadn’t made it into Lady Whistledown’s story of the day, but what had been the talk of the ton was the ever spectacular planning of the wedding of Mr. Colin Bridgerton and Miss Hazel Andrews. There had been an excerpt on the very event every day for an entire week, possibly more but eventually you’d stopped looking to save yourself the heartache already striking down on you.
You had stopped visiting the Bridgerton family home because you had known you would run into him, and the very thought had made your stomach churn and twist in knots as you remember that very night but a handful of weeks ago. You feel as though you might never forget that, much to your dismay. For heartbreak does not leave someone completely, there will always be fragments of its torment left behind in everything you choose to do.
Eloise has come to see you frequently, always with a box of the very sweets she insists she does not share with anyone. She always has a message to pass on from her siblings, even Colin, especially Colin, but she always finds herself feeling unsure of if she should bring him up. So instead, she tells you her latest findings on the unmasking of Lady Whistledown; she could never run out of things to tell you of that. She tells you of how Benedict might just drive her crazy if he asks about you but one more time. She tells you of the ball you are invited to.
In the current moment, you had been seated at your vanity, sifting through all the letters Colin had written to you over the last three weeks. They had since tapered down when he hadn’t been getting responses in return, and you had been too afraid to read any more than just a few. Too afraid to see in writing that your love is unrequited, too afraid to read the possibility that he hadn’t wanted to see you anymore. You were perfectly content with the undesirable hurt you had now, you did not want to add to it.
A knock on your door had startled you from your thoughts.
“Mr. Bridgerton is here to see you,” your mother announces, a soft smile on her lips as you look at her reflection in your mirror.
Your heart nearly flipped in your chest as you sat there, turning to face her directly. Your mind had been racing with a flurry of thoughts; you missed him, but insecurity wore away at you and told you his visit would not be of anything good. Could not be. He had visited several times and the outcome was always the same, so surely he does not believe your excuses, surely he is fed up. “Tell him I am not here, mother.”
She nods at the expected answer, closing the door behind her quietly and leaving you be as you rushed to your window. In a matter of a few moments you saw him, and it felt as though your heart had stilled. You watched as he drug his hand down his face, watched as he turned to look up at your family home and you took a step back from your window, even though he would not be able to see you. You watched as he turned away, got in his carriage, and disappeared down the street.
You turn on your heel and release a shaky breath, your gaze falling to the gown dangling neatly from its hanger.
—
You fought to conceal your frown and your obvious discontent to be at such an event. However, your mother had made you attend and Eloise just might go crazy if you leave her to fend for herself one for one more ball. And as if on cue, her arm links with yours after you’ve taken all but three steps into the boisterous ballroom.
“Hello stranger, how nice of you to join me on this wonderfully dreadful evening,” she greets in faux annoyance, and you playfully roll your eyes at her.
“Hello, Eloise,” you sigh, leaning your head against hers for just a moment. “It is rather dreadful, isn’t it? I’m certain I’d much rather—”
“Stay in your room?”
You raise your brow at her and she does the same, a knowing smirk gracing her lips and you shake your head with a soft smile. “As a matter of fact, yes. If you keep it up Eloise, I just might leave.”
“That is absolutely not happening.”
“I have to concur!” Benedict chimes in, appearing at your other side with a smile on his lips. You huff out another sigh as you look up at him, something akin to annoyance in your gaze.
“I do not believe there is anything you have to do.”
He pretends to ponder your words for a brief moment before offering you his arm much to his sister’s dismay. “I believe I have to offer you this dance.”
You squint up at him skeptically, your lips pursed as he returned your stare with a grin, head tilted as his arm remains offered to you. You bite the inside of your cheek and huff out a sigh through your nose, a groan sounding from dear Eloise as you reluctantly allow yourself to be escorted to the dancefloor.
“I am not thrilled about this, I hope you know that,” you state, falling into rhythm with the cheerful music regardless.
“I very well do. Much like I am not thrilled that this is the first time I am in your presence in nearly a month,” he jests, and you frown at him and his counter.
It hadn’t taken you long to realize just what kind of dance you had been talked into, and the laughter coming from the one to blame was more that indication that he was very much aware of that fact from the start.
“Benedict, don’t you dare spin me off to your brother,” you warn firmly, looking up at him with a threatening glare.
“Do you really think so little of me, Y/n/n?” He asks in a scoff, feigning hurt as he nearly pouts at you and your very logical assumptions.
“Sometimes you make me wonder,” you say, softening your stare as you exhale a sigh.
“I will not do such a thing, but I cannot guarantee he would be as gracious as I am,” he says with a grin, passing you off to the arms of the eldest Bridgerton brother before you could get another word in edgewise.
You breathe out an exasperated huff as you fall into your rhythm, pursing your lips.
“Please, do not act too excited to see me, Miss Y/l/n,” Anthony jests, offering you a lopsided smirk to counter your lingering frown. “What ever is the matter, my dear friend?”
You roll your eyes at the playful insincerity held in his words, for he knew exactly what was the matter long before you had even confessed your feelings for his brother. In fact, he may have been the first to realize them.
“Do not call me that, Anthony. You know perfectly well what is the matter.” Despite the bite in your tone, you couldn’t suppress the smile that had tugged at the very corner of your mouth as you stepped around the dancefloor.
“You do know that my brother is not engaged, do you not?” He asks, raising his brow at you curiously. You furrow your own, eyes narrowing up at him in disbelief.
“Anthony, now is not the time for your humor,” you scold, looking away from him. As much as you would like his words to be true, you cannot imagine that they would be.
“It is nothing of the sort,” he defends, “You don’t believe me? Perhaps you should ask him yourself.”
You found yourself tightening your hold on his hand in a pitiful attempt to stay put, but before you can get another word in you are passed into the very arms you had been trying so desperately to avoid, his hand slipping in yours in a fit too perfect to ignore. Your breath caught in your throat upon looking in his eyes, upon being so close and you quickly found yourself averting your gaze. You were quite sure your cheeks were a deep scarlet with the way they’d burned. This had reminded you of the exact reason you hadn’t wanted to attend this very ball in the first place, it was a nightmare and you were now living it.
“How lovely it is to see you,” Colin greets and you’re unsure of his sincerity with the edge behind his words, falling into the pace of the jovial dance with a practiced ease. “I was beginning to think you just might go the entire evening without speaking to me.”
“It is merely a coincidence, Mr. Bridgerton.”
“You do not have to be so formal, Y/n,” he sighs, and you continue to move about the dance floor as you keep quiet. “And am I to assume that it is also merely a coincidence that you are not home each time I have paid you a visit?”
“Do you not have a fiancée to dance with? She is rather popular in Lady Whistledown’s stories, as are you,” you inquire, desperate to take the focus off of you and his question.
You try to keep your racing heart steady, and you hope your shaky hands aren’t too terribly noticeable. Your attempt to keep him from asking any further questions about the matter seemed to have worked in your favorite just this once.
“Then you should have seen that Miss Andrews and I are no longer to be wed.”
It feels as though your heart stills in your chest as you swallow thickly, meeting his gaze once more. A crimson blush stains your cheeks as you look at him, not a trace of a lie expressed on his features. Your heart had beat impossibly faster, and the realization of just how close you had been became increasingly apparent. Not to mention, it felt as though the very walls of the ballroom just might collapse on you if you spend a moment longer in there.
Anthony had not been lying to you, that much was obvious. The thoughts began to swim in your head in a whirlpool now. What the reasons could have been for his numerous visits to your home. What the words written in each of those unopened letters could have said. It engulfed you and rushed over you all at once.
You clear your throat, releasing his hand from your grip and stepping away from him. “I shall need a moment.”
You left him to stand there as you weave your way through the jovial crowd, your obvious distress drawing more than a few stares as you lift the skirt of your dress to keep yourself from tripping as you rush out of the room.
It was a rather chilly evening to be wandering about the gardens by yourself, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about such trivial things. It was much preferred to the stuffy ballroom that was not nearly big enough to house you and the Bridgerton boy you had fought so hard to avoid. The commotion of the jovial event was rapidly fading the farther you immersed yourself amongst the finely manicured shrubbery and blossoming trees. Though it’s outstanding beauty could not fully be appreciated with such a sour mood, it would have to wait for another time.
Your chest heaved and your eyes watered, the sight of him after having kept your distance for weeks on end proving to affect you just as greatly as it always had and always will be. How ever were you to move on and find another suitor when you were still hung up on him?
You suppose you should be happy at the news, but right now that was not the case.
Perhaps you would simply never marry, it seemed like a viable option in this point in time. To put your heart out on the line for another just did not seem of interest to you nor will it ever. To love someone hadn’t felt as rewarding as Mrs. Bridgerton had once told you and Daphne, it felt as though it had been just the opposite.
A breeze swept over you, promptly causing you to wrap your arms around yourself as you paced about the lush grass in hopes to ease your mind a bit. As refreshing as the night air had initially been, you were beginning to feel no better than you had when you were confined within that room.
Any and all attempts to ease your mind became futile when a voice had cut you short.
“Y/n?”
You startled at his presence, refusing to turn around if only for a moment more as you let your eyes fall closed with a sigh. “I believe I asked for a moment alone.”
It’s quiet briefly before he speaks up once more. “It is not safe for a lady to be out at this hour by herself. I don’t think my mother would be very happy with me should something happen to you on my account.”
“I am perfectly fine on my own,” you state, walking farther from him into the heart of the large garden.
“That may be true, but I am not leaving.”
You exhale a frustrated sigh, spinning on your heel to face him with a narrowed gaze. “Just why have you followed me out here? I do not wish for your pity, Colin.”
His brows furrowed as he takes a step closer, looking down at you with a look you cannot place. “My actions are not out of pity, Y/n,” he starts, his tongue swiping over his lips as he thinks over his next words.
The tears pressing behind your eyes threaten to spill as you stand there before him.
“Then what are they of?” You ask, lowering your voice before you draw any attention to yourselves should anyone be wandering. “What are they of?”
He inhales a deep breath at your upset tone before huffing it out through his nose, looking away only briefly before his gaze returns to you. His mouth opens and closes once, and again as the words nearly remain caught in his throat. For feeling so strongly, it was difficult to voice them. “I came out here because I miss you.”
You open your mouth to speak but he silences you with a gesture of his hand.
“You have hidden yourself from me for the last three weeks. I have written you letters, I have come to see you, and I have been unsuccessful with every attempt I have made. I believe it is fair to say that I do.”
You stand there, frustrated and overwhelmed with his words.
“It is not easy being in the presence of someone who both makes your heart flutter and ache all the same,” you state defensively, a tear spilling over your flushed cheek. “I sincerely apologize for not returning your letters and distancing myself from you, but I believe it was in my best interest.”
“I believe it was not.”
You frown as your brows furrow, frustration building within your chest as it heaved under your distress. “Why is that?”
He stares at you, tears lining his eyes as the crease between his brows deepens. “You are my best friend, you are—”
“Why have you called off your engagement, Colin?” You ask, your heart pounding in your chest.
He looked down at you, a myriad of emotions flickering over his face as he fought to find the words to say under your expectant stare. Words that played so easily in his mind yet so painfully difficult to speak.
“I realized I did not love her.”
You scoff, willing the bout of hope in your chest to go away.
“That cannot be so. I’ve seen the way you look at her, I’ve heard the way you talk about her. I simply—”
“I didn’t marry her because it is you that I love,” he declares, standing a bit straighter. He finds himself speechless for a moment now that your full attention is on him, now that the quiet of the night is obvious. But as he looks at you, he knows. “I am in love with you, with all that I am. I’m afraid it took your absence for me to realize it, but it has. It was always you, it will always be you.”
You stand there, seemingly frozen in your spot as you look at him in disbelief. “But I—you love me? You…”
Before you could find the words you hadn’t even been sure of yet, his lips had pressed to yours in a soft kiss. One of hesitancy to solidify his words, yet feather-light in fear of ruining the remains of your friendship. One that only intensified once you had gotten over the utter shock you’d been hit with, your hand reaching up to settle on his cheek. His arms envelope you in an embrace, so tight it had only proved his earlier words of missing you. Even in your absence you had entranced him all the same.
In that very moment, it felt as though sparks had danced across every inch of your skin, a feeling you had only ever thought of but never imagined to be true, to be quite so blissful. But what did remain to be true was the very fact that you had been kissing the love of your life in the secret confines of a garden.
Your fingers had begun to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck briefly, smoothing over his cheeks and down to rest on his chest when you part.
“Marry me,” he breathed against your lips, his forehead against yours. Not a drop of hesitancy could be found in the proposal, nor was there any humor.
You found it hard to catch your breath in that moment as you pull away only slightly, allowing yourself to look in his eyes. They sparkled with sincerity, with the promise that he loved you entirely. His kiss swollen lips quirked up in a smile, his gaze hopeful. It was then that you smiled, bright and beaming as you kissed him once more, murmured your acceptance a thousand times over.
To love someone was a risk in and of itself, but to love someone could be just as beautiful.
—
Tags: @dreaming-about-fanfictions @heloisedaphnebrightmore @elennox03
#colin bridgerton#colin bridgerton fanfiction#colin bridgerton x reader#colin bridgerton x you#colin bridgerton fic#colin bridgerton imagine#colin bridgerton angst#colin bridgerton fluff#colin bridgerton oneshot#bridgerton#bridgerton fic
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Violet Skies
Y/n watched as Simon danced with her little sister Fiona, the Bridgerton's and Simon were all invited to your home for a long weekened. Everyone laughed at the site of you 6-year-old sister dancing to no music with Simon as he hummed a little tune.
Anthony: That's quite adorable, how your sister enjoys Simon so much.
Y/n: I agree, but Fiona enjoys you too Anthony. She loves both of you very much, ever since my brother died, Fiona sees you and Simon as big brothers which I think is beautiful. If that's alright with you.
Anthony: No need to ask, I would be honored to be a brother figure to your sister. Seeing as her sister is dear to my heart too. He smiled, as he kissed your forehead. Now if you'll please excuse me, I want to have a dance with your sister as well.
Anthony walked over to Simon and Fiona, asking for her hand in dance as they started dancing Simon walked over taking a seat next to you.
Just as Simon was about to speak, your sister ran over a big smile plastered on her face.
Fiona: Y/n, would it be alright if I go for a ride with Gregory, Francesca and Anthony? She asked, eyes beaming with excitement.
Y/n: Fiona, dear. You don't know how to ride yet.
Anthony: That's alright, I'll hold her so she sits in front of me. I promise I won't let her fall.
Fiona: Please sister.
Y/n: If Anthony says it's alright, then I suppose it shan't be a problem.
Smiling brightly Fiona hugged you, then gave Simon a kiss on the cheek after she hugged him and moved over to Anthony. Taking his large hand in her small one, as they made their way out of the room.
Simon: The joy of a little sister.
Y/n: Excuse me? You questioned, turning to face Simon.
Simon: Your sister, she never gives you peace does she?
Y/n: Simon, I do have to more siblings.
Simon: Yes indeed, but they barely show face do they?
Y/n: Willow is 10 years of age, and Brian is 14 year of age. To them Fiona, bothers them and their studies. That is why she stays with me.
Simon: I see. So, if I asked you for a walk around the grounds what shall your reply be? Simon asked, his dark brown orbs looking into your y/e/c.
Y/n: I shan't say no. If you wish we could go to the Violet fields, there is a slight maze but not one of hard nature.
Once you both were in the Violet field maze, Simon's hand captured yours as he gave it a light squeeze making you blush at the feeling. It felt wonderful, but you didn't know what would happen if you came forth with your little secret.
You and Simon both loved each other, but your mother wanted you to marry a man with incredibly high stature even higher than Simon. To you stature didn't matter, you wanted to marry for love.
You were brought out of your thoughts as you felt Simon, kiss your knuckles softly.
Simon: Are you alright my love?
Y/n: Yes. I was just thinking is all. Sorry if I concerned you.
Simon: Might I ask, what you were thinking about? Simon wondered, as he smiled down at you.
Y/n: Marriage.
Simon: Marriage? I see, your mother is looking for a husband for you is she?
Y/n: Yes. I do wish there is something I could do-
You were cut of by a sound of laughter, causing you and Simon to loosen the hold on one another. You both looked at the bush, when Fiona jumped out with Anthony right behind her. Anthony grabbed her in his arms as he twirled her around, making her laugh harder then before.
You and Simon couldn't help but smile at the sight of your sister with Anthony, she was placed down gently as he placed a kiss on her cheek.
Gregory: Fiona, want to play hide and seek?
Fiona: Can I? She questioned, as she looked up at you.
Y/n: Alright, but stay with Gregory and Francesca.
Francesca: We'll look after her. She answered, taking her hand as they disappeared into the house.
Anthony: Excuse me, I have to make sure they don't lose your sister. Anthony spoke, as he ran after the kids.
Simon: You were saying?
Y/n: Simon, I don't want to marry for money or stature. I want to marry for love...and by what it looks like, I'll have a husband before the year end. You said, eyes falling down to the ground.
Simon didn't say anything, as you both walked back to the house.
Later that evening, everyone was seated at the dining table enjoying there meal when Simon stood up holding his champaign glass.
Dana (your mother) : Simon, whatever are you doing?
Simon: Lady Dana. I want no other pleasure than to ask your daughter hand in marriage. Y/n, has stolen my heart ever since I set sight on her 5 years ago. I would be honored if you blessed our marriage, if you agree to it.
Looking up at Simon, you smiled at what he said. You loved Simon just as much, but never wanted to say how you felt.
Your mother saw the way you both glaced at one another, the love evedent in the air and to everyone in the room.
Dana: I do agree for you to marry, you have my blessing Simon. All I ask is you to love and look after my daughter with all your life.
Simon: I shall. I promise with my heart and soul, that I shall give her all she wants. Simon said, as he kissed your hand as you stood.
Anthony: Finally, a wedding I'll look forward to. Anthony grinned, at the image in front of him as he kept eating.
#Bridgerton#Simon Basset#Anthony Bridgerton#Simon Basset Imagines#Anthony Bridgerton imagines#Bridgerton imagines
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Now that I think about it (thanks to your post yesterday), that's probably why they had to wait until Marina was dead to put Phillip and Eloise together. He's not just the type to throw his wife away for another woman, and she would be too good herself to go after him if Marina was around, so we would get nowhere. (Although given how miserable he was, if she was just around and there wasn't anything romantic about it, do you think he'd strike up a friendship with her and be in her company, with a chaperone, of course, for a little bit of cheering up?)
You're right, although I'm not a fan of the dead-wife-to-further-male-angst plot device, Phillip and Eloise wouldn't have have gotten together until after she passed away in any other plotline. because divorce didn't exist in Regency England. to give an extreme example, it’s also the reason why Jane Eyre and Edward Rochester absolutely had to be separated as soon as the reader finds out he’s married even if it’s in name only.
And I thought the angst couldn't be worse in this scenario, but now I'm realizing Eloise could have been Michael AND Penelope. Crushing on a friend who is also her cousin's husband.
The angst!
Imagine Eloise starting out as friends with Phillip, because you know, he's the husband of her cousin, she'd want him to feel included in the extended Bridgerton family gatherings, just look at how well she gets along with Simon and John. But it turns out he's actually someone she enjoys spending time with so they become friends who get along really well.
But halfway through them being friends, she realizes she's got a crush on him. On her friend, who also happens to be Marina's husband. Marina who is getting sadder and sicker by the minute and how could she dare have feelings for him when his lawful wife is slowly spiraling into a mental illness nobody seems to be able to cure.
And on Phillip's side, being Marina's only support and caretaker, super grateful for Eloise friendship, just maybe wondering, just a little bit what it would feel like if he had a different kind of marriage, with someone who actually wanted him around, like his friend Eloise. But also being too loyal to Marina to even consider dishonoring her even in his thoughts.
Then Marina dies. And the angst with feelings commences
I think in this scenario it would take the divine intervention of the 3 Bridgerton brothers to push them together, not just Colin's little nudges. Like what he did with Michael.
To get over all that angst they would need all the sexy scenes of When He Was Wicked and To Sir Phillip with Love.
On the other hand. If the show were to explore that tangent, it would be a little less angsty I think, because in the show Marina is not related to Eloise and at this point after season 1 Eloise knows that Phillip and Marina are not inlove and just got married for to save Marina's reputation.
So maybe she's doing her feminist rebellion thing and she befriends Phillip on one of those times he's in London with Marina and Eloise is hanging out with Penelope. It would be painful to watch, because it would be played off as Eloise having her first inappropriate crush on someone out of her reach, because he's married, even if it's to Marina who he doesn't love. And she's a debutante in her first season.
The emotional damage on Phillip's side would also be x100. Marina being the strong person she is on the show, and probably having more influence in his life than book Marina, bringing Phillip to the realization that his marriage could be better if he tried harder, Phillip actually trying to make things work with Marina. But also meeting Eloise, who really makes him happy and no, he shouldn't be crushing on her, he needs to be loyal to his vows. He's just a honorable man in a very sad, unresolvable situation.
Show Eloise and Phillip having one of those loves where ‘it’s the right person, but not right now’ thing that Regency Romance does so well may even make sense for the show.
Then the couple meeting up years later when Phillip is a widow. Because Marina either fakes her death to go and have the freedom she deserves. Or actually dies, in a less depressive circumstances because me thinks that if show Marina doesn’t fake her death, she will most likely die heroically, in an accident to save her children, or pushing someone out of the way of an incoming carriage.
And then Phillip and Eloise meet again and they are finally free to explore their feelings for each other and it’s a nice way to begin their season.
what do you think about my theory.
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row, row, row your boat with ferocious jealously
Kate Sharma is taking a boat ride with a man that isn’t him. Anthony Bridgerton decides he doesn’t quite like that.
---
Anthony Bridgerton was livid.
“Anthony.”
“Anthony?”
“What?” Anthony snapped, his tone harsher than intended as he snapped his head away from the source of his rage and back to look at his pestering brothers.
Benedict, frowning at his brother’s harsh tone, raised an eyebrow. “What on earth are you glaring at?”
Colin was smirking triumphantly over the glass in his hand, which made Anthony want to throttle him more. “I wonder what our dear brother could be glaring at. Or should I say-who.”
The widest lopsided grin spread out on Ben’s face.
Benedict, the traitor, quickly caught on as he followed Anthony and Colin’s eyeline to where Kate Sharma herself, dressed in a dark purple dress that made her brown skin glow and his legs weak, was talking to him. No-she was laughing with him. He couldn’t possibly be that funny.
Was it a pity laugh? Surely it was a pity laugh.
Anthony had never hated a man so much in his life as he hated William Trent. He was the second son of an Earl and Anthony had spoken to him a few times at Whites. Anthony didn’t know him well at all, he had been in Benedict’s year at Eton and Oxford and they had only met a handful of times.
Anthony still despised him.
Since when had he been courting Kate? Anthony couldn’t have possibly missed news that significant. He came from a family of gossips who would have said something, he attended most of the same balls as Kate did-he didn’t recall them dancing, much less speaking.
Kate’s ring of laughter rang through the air and it was like a knife to the chest, puncturing every bit of sense he had left in him. Anthony didn’t care much for sense at that moment.
All he knew was he wanted to be the one to make her laugh.
That fact itself rather terrified him.
“What do you think of Trent, Ben?” Colin’s teasing tone wasn’t lost on Anthony and he was this close to getting thrown into the river that was a few metres away from them.
“I rather like him. We went to Eton and Oxford together. Decent. Funny,” Benedict drawled, his lopsided grin close to falling off his face as it was stretched so widely. “Very popular with ladies, I believe.”
Anthony was clenching his jaw so hard, it began to ache. His grip was so tight on his wine glass, it was close to smashing in his hands. “I hope you two are enjoying yourselves.”
“Oh brother,” Colin said, patting his eldest brother on the shoulder with the same, teasing grin. “We truly are.”
This was ridiculous. He didn’t want to come today. The last place he wanted to be was at a full of young ladies on the marriage mart, their families and potential suitors. He had to come, as he is meant to be courting and finding a wife. He was also the head of his household. He was meant to be courting Edwina.
Edwina.
Anthony hadn’t thought about her since they had briefly greeted each other when they arrived. All he could think about, from the moment he saw Kate and her head full of bouncy, dark curls , was her. How much he wanted to wrap one of those curls around his fingers and pull her away, behind a tree and-
No.
He had to stop this. This endless torture of imagining things that would never be. He had already chosen a wife. Kate had dragged her sister off just as Anthony and his brothers greeted the Sharma women.
Kate had barely looked at him as she said those two words, “My lord,” that made the hairs on his arms stick up and an uncomfortable warm feeling spread through his stomach.
Those feelings only ever happened when she spoke to him.
He wanted her to whisper them in his ear while he had his way with her. He wanted her to whisper them in his ear in their bed. He wanted her to whisper them in his ear while she was sat on his lap, dancing in his arms, for the rest of their bloody lives-
“It looks like Miss Sharma is going for a boat ride down the river.”
Colin’s voice snapped Anthony out of his dangerous thoughts and the fury quickly spread through Anthony’s entire body as he watched Kate take that bastard’s hand and walk towards the boats that were lined up along the bank of the river.
Not on his bloody watch.
“What an excellent idea,” Anthony said, shoving his glass into his brother’s chest as he clapped his hands, looking around for Edwina. “I’ll go find Miss Sharma.”
“I believe Miss Edwina Sharma has already been escorted into a boat.” Benedict chimed in, gesturing towards a boat that was being rowed by a man Anthony couldn’t recognize.
Shit.
Anthony had to act fast. He had to ask a young lady quickly to take a boat ride with him so he could catch up with Kate. He would row the bloody English channel just to find out what they were speaking out and what was so bloody funny about Trent.
He scanned the crowd around them, most of the young ladies beaming at him but he struggled to put a name to most of their faces. He needed someone he could tolerate, that didn’t talk too much and someone that wouldn’t make him want to drown himself more than he already wanted to at the thought of Kate and that imbecile rowing along the river together.
He left his brothers, making his way through the crowds and spotting a few familiar faces. He nodded his head in greeting as people spoke to him, hastily turning around as he spotted Cressida Cowper and her mother making a beeline for him.
Colin had once compared them to the Queen’s yapping little dogs that never seemed to shut up and follow you everywhere and Anthony struggled to not laugh every time he had the displeasure of making their acquaintance.
There were many things Anthony would do to get closer to Kate Sharma and that man but trapping himself in a boat with Cressida Cowper would not be one of them.
He didn’t like bullies.
There, standing in a shockingly blinding bright yellow dress with embroidered sequins, was his saving grace.
Penelope Fetherington.
“Miss Fetherington,” Anthony said, slightly out of his breath as he approached her, bowing his head. “Would you do me the honour of accompanying me for a boat ride along the river?”
He felt slightly guilty, noticing she was alone and looking uncomfortable. Eloise was sick at home in bed, she had made her first season quite the strain on their family with her habit of complaining about everything and unwillingness to participate in anything.
“My Lord,” Penelope squealed, her round cheeks darkening as she bowed her head. “Oh! That is very kind of you. But-well, you don’t have to. I’m really okay. If your mother-”
“I want to,” Anthony said quickly, the guilt growing inside of him as she spoke. No one should have to feel as if they’ve only been asked because someone’s mother forced them to. Even if his intentions weren’t honourable, he’d try harder to make sure she didn’t feel like that. “Do I seem to you like a man who does what he doesn’t want to do?”
Penelope’s anxious expression faded slowly into a relaxed one, a small smile appearing on her face. “I would love to, my lord.”
“I will admit, Miss Fetherington,” Anthony spoke quietly to her, offering her his arm as they made their way to the river bank. Anthony pushed people out of the way until they were right behind Kate and William. “I do enjoy boat rides. However, I needed to escape the preying mothers and their daughters on the bank. My mother would have pushed me onto a boat if I didn’t pick a suitable young lady and I couldn’t have picked better company.
Penelope’s giggle, which was louder than expected, caught the attention of Kate, Trent, Cressida Cowper, another gentlemen Anthony hadn’t met and of course-Colin.
Colin, who had wormed his way into a conversation with Kate and Trent and grinning mischievously at his brother as he did so. Benedict had been wise enough to stay away.
“Viscount Bridgerton.” Trent said quickly, smiling and bowing his head as he addressed him. Anthony’s bow was stiff in return.
“Good afternoon,” Anthony said stiffly, feigning slight confusion and real distaste as he stared at him. He wasn’t very impressive up close. His jacket looked cheap and his hat was slightly wonky. Anthony surely didn't have anything to worry about. This man didn’t look funny. “Have we met?”
It was rude, but Anthony couldn’t find it in himself to care.
He chose to ignore Colin’s loud snort from beside him as well.
“William Trent, my Lord.” He said, blushing slightly as he shook Anthony’s hand while he pushed his shoulders back and stood up straighter. He looked scared. Anthony knew instantly he wasn’t a good fit for Kate. She would walk all over him. Anthony relished in how intimidating he could be sometimes. “May I introduce-“
Anthony could feel his blood boiling. How dare he. The hand that was free from Penelope’s arm curled into a fist, he knew the expression on his face was thunderous. No one had to introduce Kate to him. No one. If anything, he should be the one introducing Kate to people. That should be his job. Except it wasn’t and it could never be. “There is no introduction necessary. Good Afternoon, Miss Sharma.”
“Lord Bridgerton.” She said plainly, frowning slightly at him. Her voice and frown, and those two words once again, having an exhilarating effect on him like nothing else has before.
Anthony’s manners quickly made themselves known as he turned to Penelope. “May I introduce Penelope Fetherington?”
“Sir,” Penelope said kindly, bowing her head. “Kate.” Her smile was much wider as she greeted her. Kate’s smile and something inside of his stomach twisted.
“Lord Bridgerton,” A voice from beside them piped up, belonging to, unfortunately, Cressida Cowper. “I would be happy to accompany you on the river. Sir Byrne will take Penelope off your hands-”
“I don’t believe I asked you, Miss Cowper,” Anthony said sharply, turning to glare at the intruder who had wiped the smile Anthony had been staring at right off Kate’s face. “I believe I asked Miss Fetherington.”
That shut her right up. Anthony didn’t like to think too badly of ladies of the ton but Cressida Cowper was truly unpleasant. That was the nicest word he could think of that wasn’t severely inappropriate.
“But, Miss Cowper,” Anthony said, his revenge so sweet he couldn’t help the smile breaking out on his face. “My brother Colin would be happy to accompany you.”
The colour drained right out of Colin’s face.
Anthony couldn’t help but glance at Kate, who caught his eye before looking down at the ground, desperately fighting off a smile.
Anthony clapped his brother’s shoulder as they moved towards the bank of the river where footmen had set up the boats for the passengers. He moved quickly to make sure they got the boat right beside and behind Kate and Trent. Kate and Trent were saying something quietly but Anthony could see the smile on her face and it infuriated him more.
It wasn’t that he didn’t expect Kate to have suitors. How could she not? She may be different to some ladies of the ton but everything different about her made her stand out from the rest. Not to mention, she was absolutely beautiful. He couldn’t stand in a room with her lately without glancing at her every ten seconds.
Any man would be a fool not to want her. Of course she was going to be courted.
He just wished she wasn’t.
He had no right to, he shouldn’t, but he did anyway.
Trent, the incompetent idiot, was caught in a conversation with a man on the bank. Kate, of course, took it upon herself to get herself into the boat.
“Be careful.” Anthony said, jumping at the opportunity to offer her his hand after he helped Penelope into their boat. Kate stared at his hand for a moment, before, begrudgingly, accepting it and stepping into the boat.
“Thank you.” She said stiffly, avoiding eye-contact as she settled into the boat. The moment their hands touched, her touch erupted a sensation that traveled from the top of his fingers, all the way up his arm and into his chest. This was seriously getting out of hand. Anthony needed to get himself together.
“Enjoy your boat ride,” He said quietly, noticing out of the corner of his eye Trent was finishing up his conversation. “Kate.” Anthony made his way back to his boat, smiling briefly at Penelope as they waited for Trent to begin rowing so Anthony could quickly follow.
Once they started moving, Anthony had a small swearing fit under his breath but the chances of Penelope hearing his language was quite high. Another boat had pulled out in front of them and separated them from Kate and Trent. Anthony was manically rowing to try to catch up with them up the river and his arms were beginning to ache.
Penelope spoke up. “I was sorry to hear about Eloise. I hope she is feeling better soon.”
Anthony didn’t miss the sly smile on Penelope’s face, which momentarily distracted him from glaring over at Kate and Trent’s boat. “I would be willing to bet the deed to Bridgerton House that Eloise has made a miraculous recovery by this evening.”
Penelope laughed. Anthony couldn’t help but join in.
“I apologize,” Anthony said, both of them sharing a smile that his apology wasn’t sincere at all. They both knew Eloise quite well. “Betting is not an appropriate topic to discuss with a young lady.”
“Please do not apologize, my lord.” Penelope said, smoothing out the bright yellow skirt of her dress and fidgeting with a few beads.
“We have known each other for a long time, Penelope. Please, call me Anthony.”
“Okay, Anthony,” Penelope said slowly, testing out the name before smiling shyly. “I will not say anything. What happens on this boat, stays on this boat.”
Anthony quirked an eyebrow at her before returning back to glaring at Kate’s boat. He couldn’t help that his attention drifted there. He didn’t mean to be rude but he was just dying to know what they were talking about. He could see Trent rowing, and Kate laughing, and he couldn’t help the ache in his chest that he wished it was him.
“I do hope Miss Sharma is okay.”
Anthony looked back at Penelope, his arms slowing down slightly as they were really beginning to ache. He didn’t want to seem too obvious in his endeavours to get closer to Kate but he would be willing to capsize the boat between them to get closer to her. “I believe I saw Miss Sharma get on a boat earlier, with a gentleman I didn’t see. Is there a reason she wouldn’t be alright?”
Surely Kate wouldn’t have got on a boat if Edwina was ill or in some sort of trouble. Kate was always by her sister’s side, looking out for her. It was one of her traits Anthony admired the most.
“I didn’t mean Edwina.”
They briefly stared at each other in silence, an awful sinking feeling in Anthony’s stomach settling in as if he had been caught in the middle of an act. Subtly had never been his greatest form. If Penelope knew what Anthony was thinking, who was he thinking about, what he was trying to do-well, he was screwed.
“I was speaking with Kate earlier and well, she is not too fond of boats,” Penelope said, glancing upwards as they rowed under an oak tree. “I’ve always enjoyed the water. Kate, however, doesn’t. The movement makes her feel quite sick. I believe she tried to avoid a boat trip but Mr. Trent was quite persistent.”
It was as if the clouds had cleared and the storm inside of him had faded away, making way for the sun to shine brightly through.
Anthony tried very hard to smile. He focused on pulling each oar back and forth to hide his smile but he wasn’t having much luck. Kate was with him out of pity. Kate hated boat rides and she was probably miserable a few metres ahead of them, desperately wishing to be anywhere but on a boat with Trent.
A man who had to beg a lady to do something she didn’t want to do wasn’t the right man for her.
He wasn’t the right man for Kate.
“I hope the experience isn’t too unpleasant for her.” He said idly, desperate to keep up some sort of calm, cool and collected façade that he wasn’t thrilled to hear the news. The boat ride was actually quite pleasant, they chatted away while Anthony picked up the pace to make sure they were behind Kate and Trent as they pulled back into the bank of the river.
Anthony stood up and helped Penelope out of the boat herself, waving off the footman and smiling as she bowed. “Thank you so much for a lovely afternoon, my lord.”
“Anthony.”
“Anthony.” Penelope blushed slightly, her eyes catching something behind him. Anthony turned around to see a rather flustered Colin, desperately rowing and splashing to make his way to the back with a very displeased Cressida Cowper. Penelope bowed her head again before turning around and walking back towards her family’s tent, to her very pleased looking mother who was pretending she hadn’t been watching them the entire time.
“That was nice of you. To ask Penelope.” The voice next to him, one he could recognize in a crowd full of people, caught him by surprise as he turned around to see Kate Sharma beside him. She wasn’t glaring at him like she usually was, which was an excellent start.
“I like Penelope. I know this may come as a shock to you, Miss Sharma,” He said teasingly, the smirk on his lips the most genuine and amused all day. “On the rare occasion, I can be nice.”
To Anthony’s surprise, Kate laughed. The low, joyful laugh was like Christmas to him, flooding his veins with dopamine like no other. He never wanted to stop hearing it.
Anthony made her laugh.
It was the best feeling in the world.
He was secretly thrilled she approved of him inviting Penelope. He didn’t know why, but he had found himself lately needing her approval. He was desperate for it.
Kate’s eyes darted around them before landing back on him, quickly bowing her head. “Well, I will see you at your ball tomorrow evening.”
He bowed back, a small smile playing on his lips. “You will, Kate.”
“Well,” She said, gulping slightly as she fidgeted. She appeared flustered, her neck and cheeks reddening slightly. Anthony desperately wanting to kiss it away. “Good day Lord Bridgerton.”
“Anthony.” He quickly corrected her.
Kate wasn’t buying it. “My Lord.”
“Good day, Kate.”
He watched her nod her head before turning around, making her way back up the slight hill of the bank. He watched her fierce, bouncing girls fly in the wind until she disappeared into the crowd.
It was a good day, indeed.
#did I see those pap pics and write a fic based on them? yes#yes I did#bridgerton#kate x anthony#kate sharma#anthony bridgerton#canon#one shot#fanfiction#kate sheffield
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My favourite quotes from The Viscount Who Loved Me..
1. “Of course I know. It’s just that when you agree to be mother to a child you haven’t borne, your responsibility is twice as great. You must work even harder to ensure that child’s happiness and welfare.”
Can we take a moment to appreciate how amazing of a person Mary is. She is every step child’s dream 😊
2. “Miss Sheffield,” he murmured unthinkingly, “you are as lovely as your sister.” “And you, Lord Bridgerton,” she replied in a tone that could have frozen champagne, “are almost as handsome as your brother.”
This was the moment that Anthony realised that he would never get to have the last word with her, or the upper hand in any sort of relationship he would have with her, for that matter 😂😂
3. “You should have a tulip,” he said matter-of-factly. “It isn’t right that Edwina receives all the flowers.”
I find it so ironic that he was constantly trying to charm kate while he was supposed to be winning over Edwina. Also, If someone can read this and not immediately swoon, they are probably dead inside 😂
4. “He wasn’t sure how it had come about, but her good opinion meant a great deal to him. Of course he needed her approval in his much-neglected suit of Edwina, but there was more to it than that. She’d insulted him, she’d nearly dunked him in The Serpentine, she’d humiliated him at Pall Mall, and yet he craved her good opinion.”
This man was whipped soo long before he realised it. I can literally picture him asking Kate’s opinion on the smallest things, after they get married 🥰
5. “A man with charm is an entertaining thing, and a man with looks is, of course, a sight to behold, but a man with honor—ah, he is the one, dear reader, to which the young ladies should flock.”
Is it just me, or is Lady Whilstledown so full of wisdom. You could’ve never guessed that she’s a teenager. If only she was there to tell me this when I was going through my teenage years 😅
6. “And then there was Kate Sheffield. The bane of his existence. And the object of his desires.All at once.”
This perfectly sumps up their relationship and how they fell about each other 😍
7. “And instead he couldn’t stop thinking about Kate. Kate, who, much as she infuriated him, couldn’t help but command his respect. How could he not admire one who clung so steadfastly to her convictions? And Anthony had to admit that the crux of her convictions—devotion to family—was the one principle he held above all else.”
They’re so alike. Both are equally stubborn and would die for their families. A match made in fictional heaven 🤩
8. “And it was stunning how much he wanted to be the one to make her feel better.”
“But she wished—oh, how she wished—that when he was ready to face his fears, she could be the one to help him.”
The fact that they were so invested in finding out more about each others fears, and helping the other overcome it, is why their relationship is so meaningful ❤️❤️
9. “It was that spark. That damnable spark that never seemed to dim between them. That awful prickle of awareness that burned every time she entered a room, or took a breath, or pointed a toe. That sinking feeling that he could, if he let himself, love her.”
I CAN’T. 😢 Anthony Bridgerton is a lovable idiot. But an idiot nonetheless 😂
10. “It was a bee,” Kate practically wailed. “Just a bee! Surely we can’t be forced to marry because of a bee!”
This is the funniest moment of the book. That bee died a heroic death. Anthony probably thanked it every night in his prayers, for creating the opportunity for him to marry kate 🤣🤣
10. “He wouldn’t, in a million years, have allowed himself to choose her as a wife. She was far, far too dangerous to his peace of mind.”
I’m certain that Anthony has the emotional intelligence of a toothbrush. Thank god Kate was there to knock some sense into him 😂
11. “But Anthony’s mutterings were cut short by a big, sloppy kiss from Newton.“I think he likes you,” Kate said, so amused by Anthony’s disgusted expression that she forgot to be self-conscious about her position on his lap.“Dog,” Anthony ordered, “get down on the floor this instant.”Newton hung his head and whined.“Now!”
We all know that Anthony ADORES Newton, he just doesn’t like to show it. Also, the fact that he addressed Newton as “dog”, will forever make me laugh 😂
12. “Anything in my power, I give to you.”
He says things like this, and continues to tell himself that he isn’t in love with her. Edmund is shaking in his grave because of his son’s stupidity 😑
13. “It was as if a certain side of her were visible only to him. He loved that her charms were hidden to the rest of the world. It made her seem more his.”
Anthony is the only man who truly recognises & admires Kate’s beauty (both external and internal), when she was always considered to be just ordinary by everyone else. AND the fact that he takes pride in it. 😭😭😭
14. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice even and intense, “and listen well, because I’m only going to say this once. I desire you. I burn for you. I can’t sleep at night for wanting you. Even when I didn’t like you, I lusted for you. It’s the most maddening, beguiling, damnable thing, but there it is.”
This is the most romantic quote in the book, and the moment we all realised that we were a little too obsessed with Anthony 😍😍
15. “This Author cannot fail to note that he always seems to be murmuring something in his lady’s ear, and that something always seems to make her smile and blush. Furthermore, he always dances with her one more time than is considered de rigueur.”
The fact that he was acting like a love-sick puppy, when he was supposed to be keeping his distance from Kate, is iconic. Seriously Anthony, you could’ve tried a little harder. Also, Penelope is a kanthony stan like the rest of us 🤗
16. “He cared about her. He cared about her far too much. He craved her company when they were apart, and he dreamed about her at night, even as he held her in his arms. He wasn’t ready to call it love, but it terrified him all the same. And whatever it was that burned between them, he didn’t want it to end.”
The part about him dreaming of her when she’s next to him. 😢 If my future husband doesn’t feel this way about me, I’d rather remain a spinster 😭
17. “He had fallen in love with his wife, and now the thought of dying, of leaving her, of knowing that their moments together would form a short poem and not a long and lusty novel—it was more than he could bear.”
I’m convinced that Anthony used up the last active brain cell he had, trying and failing to manage his siblings. Though, I can’t help but find this sweet 😢
18. “But if she was destined to be alone, even with a husband at her side, then by God she’d be alone and strong.”
This right here, is the reason I love Kate. She doesn’t need a man to be strong. She’s an independent queen 👏👏
19. “When you two idiots find women gullible enough to actually marry you,” Anthony snapped, “Then you may presume to offer me advice. But until then…shut up.”
“Colin looked at Benedict. “Think he’s angry?”Benedict quirked a brow. “That or drunk.”Colin shook his head. “No, not drunk. Not anymore, at least. He’s clearly hungover.” “Which would explain,” Benedict said with a philosophical nod, “why he’s so angry.”
The fact that the two of them ended up marrying women who each has more intellect compared to that of the three of theirs combined, is ironic 🤣
Also, I love how Benedict and Colin ignore how distressed Anthony is, and continue to mock him, when he was supposed to be having an existential crisis. And how they were like, “just go tell your wife you love her, you drama queen” 😂😂
20. “It means that love isn’t about being afraid that it will all be snatched away. Love’s about finding the one person who makes your heart complete, who makes you a better person than you ever dreamed you could be. It’s about looking in the eyes of your wife and knowing, all the way to your bones, that she’s simply the best person you’ve ever known.”
Sighhhhh 😍😍
21. “It was the first time—even after all these years of expecting my own death—that I truly knew what it meant to die. Because with you gone…there was nothing left for me to live for.”
Why must he be so romantic? 😢❤️ Maybe one day technology will be so advanced that we can each have our very own Anthony Bridgerton artificially created for us 🤞(minus the sideburns of course) 😂
#kathony#anthony x kate#anthony bridgerton#kate sharma#the viscount who loved me#bridgerton#favourite quotes
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Bridgerton season II (TVWLM) and possible ways the episodes could go because I’m actively avoiding the work I’ve got to do so why not some headcanons
This is all spec for shits and giggles.
EP 1: Introduction to the Sheffields coming to London. Scene at Whites--Colin’s back from Greece bloomed and ready get rollin--cut to: A telling B&C he’s planning on getting married. (I’m still holding on to the hope that we’re getting that gem because he just told Daphne and Simon in the finale, not his brothers.) Possible flashback to Edmund’s death. I feel like it’ll likely happen in this episode unless we keep playing at the, what is Anthony hiding a bit longer? Although really, the audience should know assuming not all of them have read the book at that point. A bit of what other characters are up to, perhaps a scene with S&D and their son. Maybe some Whistledown etc. Pen and Eloise shenanigans. (I really don’t think we’re getting an introduction to the Queen again, if we do, it’d be really interesting to see her deem Edwina flawless and Kate well ... Kate.) Eloise probably avoids this moment like the plague or is banned by the queen. (Lol!) Finally the ball, Colin meddles, Kate and Anthony dance happens, nonstop boot stomping and all. She refuses to let him court Edwina, and he’s all--well now I’m gonna court her even harder. DRAMATIC DEATH STARES ENSUE.
EP 2: Some more Edwina courting shenanigans. NEWTON shenanigans. The Serpentine possibly? Another ball. Kate being Kate and throwing death stares at him constantly. (You go, girl!) Anthony’s ready to strangle her. Colin gets it. (This episode probably leaves a lot more room for some other characters to get screen time as well.)
EP 3: More Newton shenanigans? Yes? Yes. THE STUDY. I’m still so torn with how this scene or any version of it could possibly play out. On one hand, I highly doubt Violet would invite Siena into her house knowing Anthony’s courting someone, on the other, I can’t imagine anything being more crucial to his development than seeing her again and thus convincing him fully that this wasn’t love. It would also set Kate off because she’d be under the impression that he loves this woman and he will be with Edwina over her dead body. Plus, Anthony kissing her would be an even bigger revelation for him having (almost) the chance to have had Siena again but completely losing himself in Kate. I need this, but I’m super conflicted about it, namely because it’d ruin Siena’s moment of independence more than anything, and I thought that was a great scene for her. But the study, yo. I need some form of that scene. Kate crouched under his desk clawing his knee. Please God and Lord Jesus make this happen. Thanks.
EP 4: PALL FREAKING MALL, let’s go. This entire episode should be dedicated to it. And it could very well be. Bits and pieces of them at Aubrey Hall, the dinner, but mainly PALL MALL every little detail of this ridiculous game, Anthony gazing out the window trying to find Kate, wake up from dreams of her, being haunted by her and trying hard to court Edwina because he’s a stubborn shit and failing. Also since we didn’t get Anthony and Simon falling into the lake, I need Kate to do the thing and send him straight towards it. That is the most important Pall Mall after all--sending Anthony into the lake. And then the episode ends with THE LIBRARY. Which is a perfect place to leave off because again, we don’t have big huge moments like the duel so I’m thinking build up for them takes longer, and having this moment is their big set up. They see each other as they truly are, he comforts her through the storm, sees himself and his very darkness in someone else for the first time. The episode ends with them going their separate ways.
EP 5: (We could also continue getting more angst here with them avoiding each other after the moment then bam, bee sting, boob venom shenanigans, compromised, gazebo shenanigans, Anthony’s big fat book of rules. (Which he himself doesn’t plan on complying to.) Their wedding concludes the episode, Anthony’s bachelor lodgings then back to Aubrey Hall for their honeymoon.
EP 6: HONEYMOON, BEECHES. (See what I did there? Please indulge my dumb attempts thank you. xo) So, here’s the thing, their conflict isn’t as big as S&D’s. And they’ve already got so much build up and angst in the beginning that keeping them apart in the same way just wouldn’t make as much as sense. A ball?! Maybe?! So we get him shoving people to get through to her. The bits with Edwina coming over to talk about Bagwell. Or whomever. He comes home to be with his wife because he’s bored with everyone else! We get the storm here as well and the conversation with Mary about her trauma. So I can see this episode ending fairly happily for the most part, unless bam, end scene--dramatic buffoon runs away because she says “always and forever.”
(OR...we could possibly see some changes where he leaves prior to this because the feelings are just too much and he needs space. She doesn’t get it so it makes her sad. (And I will strangle him for doing this to her.) Realizes a storm is coming goes home to be with Kate finds her already reliving through the terrors. Then they go to Mary’s, then seeing her resolve her issues forces him to just distance himself.)
EP 7: Although ^ that said, I still love Eloise sending out the big bold, please come collect your man letter. And here’s where I’ve got headcanons just judging by how much intimacy we got with S&D amidst their fight. Anthony’s drunkass gives in to her--perhaps it’s holding her for a bit before he realizes, nope feelings. Maybe he does give in to Kate trying to kiss him. They do. And then maybe he does actually go home and tries to be tougher about his big bad, stupid plan. (Maybe the Bagwell/Edwina conversation could also take place here where they have to put on a happy couple face as well.) But then he’s constantly on edge about it in the episode so he continues avoiding her in the afternoons and goes to Whites, finally has his dramatic epiphany that ah yes love is the answer. (His brothers, but also Simon too in this scene plz) Runs home, but the accident happens--love confessions--the episode ends.
EP 8: (Flash forward to maybe a month) Okay so the reason I’m thinking or rather hoping the accident won’t happen in this episode is because I want more intimacy and it is what we good citizens of the world deserve. But also because their epilogue takes place so much later that I wonder how it’ll be worked into the actual season. So instead, seeing them actually try to work through their fears, seeing them both continue to talk about their traumas, and then having the season end with them moving into Bridgerton House feels like a fitting end, watching the family move out possibly, and a good start to Book 3. The masquerade could be held in this episode then Benedict meets Sophie and bam, kicks off the beginning of their story.
Thoughts? Opinions? Let’s talk!
#kathony#kate x anthony#anthony x kate#anthony bridgerton#kate sheffield#tvwlm#book talk#speculation#headcanons#sort of#this is such a chaotic meta#oddly appropriate for these idiots though
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rakes | chapter two
pairing: regency!Harrison Osterfield x regency!reader
words: 2.1k
warnings: bridgerton s1 spoilers, swearing, mentions of sex
a/n: this took me forever to write because i wrote the ending ish and I have even the whole end part planned out lmao. now I just need to write up to it lmao.
Please Reblog and Like if you enjoy!
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You awoke startled, sweaty, and with tears streaming down your face. It had been from a nightmare, of your first season’s debut. You knew that things could not go as horribly wrong that night did, yet, you were afraid deep down it might.
You could never forget the piercing scream that rang through your body as you watched helplessly, your worst unknown nightmare becoming real in front of you, and being able to do nothing for your parents.
After sitting in your bed for what seemed like hours, you decided to get dressed at the start making a list of what you had to do in haste to get ready for the season’s rush.
There was so much to do and so little time, so you knew one worry could be put at ease if you planned it all out. At least then your mind would hopefully quiet down the thoughts in your head.
Sitting near the window with it open, you watched the sunrise, wondering how your dear William was doing. You had left hastily, not even with a goodbye to him. It was too painful to be in Grosvenor square where all your fondest memories had been with your deceased parents. He was of course in those fond memories, yet it was too painful as you saw your father in him, and the man he became because of your father being a parental figure to him.
You wondered how he was handling being the earl, especially without the guidance or help of anyone. Especially since your presence is missing. You wrote to him all the time, yet he had no return address to send it to so you knew not much of how your dearest sibling was doing.
You knew not much of duty of being a man and running an estate and the burden weighed on society of being an earl, yet you knew the pressures and gossip and betrayal all too much so you knew it could not have been easy.
You only wished as much that you could have stayed for William, yet you knew your body would not let you stay as the fear would crawl into your bones, rotting you into some sort of insane spinster.
You stretched your body out after sitting for too long on the uncomfortable chair, deciding it was time to head on out- “the earlier the better”- you thought.
As soon as you stepped out into the hall you had turned, and collided with a strong torso, almost falling to the ground. Strong arms had caught you before you took a nasty spill.
“Pardon me-” you whispered quietly, as you then realized the close proximity of you and the man that had caught you, his face very close to your own.
He looked disheveled slightly, with his golden locks out of place slightly, and a small amount of dusting of freckles that adorned his face. His icy blue eyes had been staring into yours, almost too cold to even look into, yet you felt a sense of curiosity to capture the color of them in your mind. You also had noticed the closeness of your bodies in this very moment, almost too scandalous to even think of in society’s ton.
“Apologies, Miss.,” he said with a slightly crooked smile that could make any woman melt at this moment.
He helped you regain your balance on your own two feet, before heading towards the stairs, giving you a lopsided smile again, nodding at you, and went downstairs.
You were almost too stunned to move from the interaction. You had never been as close as that to a man in your life. It gave you a small chill down your spine, even thinking about him, the mystery man.
You were pulled out of your thoughts when your maid, Lucy, was walking out of the adjacent room to yours.
“Madam, shall I fetch the carriage?” she asks you politely, suddenly snapping you out of your entranced state.
“Yes, we should get going.”
Arriving at the Bridgeton home was, interesting to say the least, in a good way. It had been around noon, after your stop at the modiste, picking up dresses for the most -well- dreaded season, and you had been welcomed by most of the Bridgerton ladies in the drawing-room, embraced by Violet, asking for your time heading to their home. It was quite a shock as the chaos yet love could be felt in the room, as whom you were assuming the two youngest were arguing of some hair ribbon, and two of the other elder brothers of Daphne’s were in some heated debate about god knows what, and one sister was writing in a journal of some sort as the other played the pianoforte.
“Welcome dear, to our home. I apologize in advance for the chaos, we are getting ready for Elosie’s first season, and our masquerade ball.”
“No need to apologize, Lady Bridgerton. Thank you for letting me stay until William gets in tomorrow. I just couldn’t stay in the house alone.”
“Please call me Violet! And any friend of my family is welcome here. Children, This is Lady Y/L/N.”
“If I am to call you Violet I insist you all call me Y/n” she smiles warmly towards you, “Eloise, could you please show Y/n to her room, I’m sure she is but tired from her journey.”
She comes out of her trance of writing responding to her mother, “Of course Mama.”
As you walk out of the drawing-room with her she looks as if she’s in deep thought.
“I have so many questions to ask of you! How were you able to travel? I only thought men such as my brother could do so, yet here you are!”
“Well when my parents passed, I just- well, couldn’t stay here, so I ventured off with what my bro- erm, cousin, William had given to me. I went to visit some other cousins in France and had gone off to other parts of Europe. It was better than I had ever imagined. But now my duty is to my family, and the adventure has stopped, for now at least.”
You had stopped walking when you reached a door, that you assumed was your room.
“That is incredible, I shall wait to ask more of you, later on of course.”
“Why don’t you show me the grounds and I shall tell you more, right now, and you can tell me about yourself, Eloise.”
Her face lit up.
“I would quite enjoy that!”
After walking around their grounds, you had sat on the swings on a tree, telling her all about your adventures, and she told you about herself and even told you quite a bit about Lady Whistledown and her venture in trying to find the writer behind the pen. It had been a few hours, probably nearing dinner time, but you felt at ease with Eloise. At least, you knew you had a friend in her, that hated society almost as much as you,
“I cannot believe you went in the ocean on the beach! Most ladies here would assume it unlady-like!”
“Well, I am especially not one for lady-like behavior! Especially structured by vicious mamas!” you both laugh together at that comment. Oh how you both knew of the shocking behavior of the ton’s mamas.
“I believe we should head in now, Dinner will soon be ready, and I can only assume you are starving since we only had biscuits earlier.”
You both get up stretching your legs lightly, before heading indoors.
You felt warmth sitting at the dinner table, though not typical, it felt like they truly loved each other, and actually enjoyed each other as a family, something you had longed for from your own family, especially for William’s sake.
William had never felt like he belonged in your family, at least not fully. The warmth you and your parents tried to give to him almost did not get through his thick skull, that you had accepted him as an esteemed member of the family. You had always wondered if it was because his true father never accepted him until he needed him to fulfill his wants.
“So, Y/n are you excited for the season?” Anthony cuts through his current conversation, to include you.
“Probably something of the sort. I am quite intrigued to see how people have changed.”
“Well, most have not, especially the men.”
You laughed slightly at that.
“Well do tell whom to stay away from.” you joke.
“If you have not read the most recent lady Whistledown I assume you don’t know.”
“I’m not quite sure I’ve ever heard of a Lady Whistledown?” you question, curiosity getting to the best of you.
“Lady Whistledown is a gossip writer, under a pen name, whom, however, mentions people in the ton in name, by name in full.” Eloise cuts in.
You raise a brow quizzically. That was unheard of.
“She mentions you in her most recent edition” Hyacinth mentions, before going back to throwing peas strategically when her mother wasn’t looking at her brother Gregory.
“I’m sure Eloise has it if she hasn’t already shown you.” now you were fully intrigued. There was truly only one main thing you thought the writer could write about.
“She wrote about Lord Holland today, and might I say he is pretty dreamy.” Francesca pipes up, before earnings glare from Anthony and a kick from Eloise.
“Ow!”
“If I didn’t do it, Anthony would have and he kicks harder.”
You giggle at the family’s interactions. You only hoped you could have one as close as the Bridgertons.
“I see we are quite the entertainment for our guest tonight. I guess there’s no need for Eloise to get on the pianoforte. God knows I’m in motion for that.” Benedict adds before earning a kick from Eloise as well.
“Ow!”
“Back to the topic at hand, I’d stay away from Benedict for certain.” Eloise says, which erupts you five into a fit of giggles, before getting your end of the table gets a hard stare-down from Violet, almost as if to say ‘behave’.
“So I'm assuming other than Daphne missing, the letter C, Colin, must be the one travelling? Daph did mention he would be writing me asking about the best places to travel.”
“Yes, Colin is the one travelling, but was the letter system too obvious of whom is which?” Benedict asks in an amused manner.
“I think it’s adorable, and if you must know I find it orderly.”
“Don’t tell my mother that, or she won’t stop talking about how ‘Lady Y/n complimented her naming system’.” Benedict jokes.
You laugh before you see Eloise bringing out what you assumed was the gossip sheet. She hands it to you before you read it over, turning slightly pale at the mentions of your family so intimately.
Harrison had made it into town earlier that afternoon, only to be wondering why Mama’s, and Ladies alike- married or not- had been whispering and pointing at him. On the other hand, he had been met with a warm embrace from his wonderful sister Charlotte, and loving Mother, Phil, only to be dragged by Charlotte for her to tell him to read the latest Lady Whistledown, a woman he knew he hadn’t heard of, nevertheless thought he’d fucked.
He however listened to his sister and her worry, before being shell-shocked by what was on the page.
“Charlotte what the hell is this? And who the hell wrote it?"
“Lady Whistledown is but the biggest anonymous gossip columnist, and everyone reads it. Haz what am I to do if no suitors show interest when I am eligible for marriage? What if I end up a spinster?!”
“Char, I won’t let that happen I promise you.”
Harrison was determined to make sure charlotte never had to worry. She was the most lovely of any woman on the market and he would make sure she had a shot.
“Wait Osterfield, you’re saying, you’ll Woo whoever is the most desired by the queen and marry her?” Tom askes very confusedly as to what sparked this in his bestfriend.
“Yes Tom, That is my plan,” Harrison replies before taking a sip of his drink again.
The two men had reunited at the Bridgerton’s gentleman club, talking over Harrison’s not so genius plan, according to Tom.
“Do you know how many mamas loathe even the sight of you right now? Especially because of Lady Whistledown.” Harrison’s face scrunches up, cringing at that.
“Yes, I know already. But if I can just get in the good graces of Lady Whistledown, then I know any mama will turn around! maybe if I form an attachment with someone she might see that I’m serious about marrying. Don’t you have that cousin? Zendaya?”
“That’s a terrible idea, Harrison. Also, Zendaya is now going to be under my care according to my mother. She told her father, who is ill, I’d watch out for her during the season to find her a suitable husband.”
Harrison gets a mischievous, conniving look on his face as the gears turn in his brain.
“I said suitable Haz! Her father would have a heart attack if you came near her!”
“Fine, but can you at least convince her to show interest in me to the other ladies? So I can find a wife?”
Tom rolls his eyes before downing his drink mentally hating the idea, but agreeing to try for his almost brother, even if he didn’t think he’d find a wife.
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I’m almost embarrassed to admit how many hours i’ve spent going over your headcanons 🙈 they are so delightful! I’m wondering if you are interested in writing something about Ben and Sophie, Ben wanting to move in sooner than Sophie is comfortable with (cos of the money and all the jazz that the Bridgerton name brings). How does Ben convince an insecure Sophie?
Oh Lord! Hours?! I feel like I’d give up after a few minutes with a little shake of the head and a My god, she’s absolutely unhinged But thank you for having the guts to do it tbh!! I truly appreciate it!
Ben+ Sophie+ moving in together and the awkwardness of wanting to share your life with another person but being unsure if they want the same thing? When You asked so nicely how could I refuse?
No matter how ridiculous it seemed, Benedict Bridgerton could not pretend he hadn’t been in love with Sophie Beckett from their very first date. And when, after 4 weeks of dating she’d finally sighed and said “Because it looks like this.” When he’d asked why she’d stayed at his house, but he’d never even been in hers, She’d taken his hand and tugged him upstairs from the stoop he usually left her on, biting her lip the entire way, eyeing him carefully as she swung the door open to a tiny flat that was smaller than the bedroom he’d had as a child, his heart had threatened to break. Because Sophie Beckett deserved the best of everything, and none of the circumstances of her life and truly been her fault, but here she was picking up the broken pieces anyway. Benedict had forced himself not to scoop her up, and carry her back to his house and force her to stay forever. Instead he’d settled himself on the edge of the bed and said
“I like knowing things about you, Soph.” And though she covered them quickly, he’d seen the tears in her eyes.
He’d been fighting the urge to ask her to live with ever since, but he desperately didn’t want Sophie to think he was trying to save her. She was an independent person by necessity, and he’d heard from Kate how she’d asked for an invoice after Kate had told Sophie’s step mother exactly where she could go (Kate had wrapped her arms tightly around Sophie and said I haven’t had an argument that satisfying since I stopped pretending to hate Anthony I should be thanking you), And even though her new job at a restaurant Lucy had happened to know was hiring paid her rather a lot more than Penwood House had, their wealth disparity was still rather huge. But when she’d sighed a little this morning and said she had to go and sign a new lease for her flat later today Benedict had known it was time. They’d been together for nearly seven months after all, that wasn’t odd right? Anthony and Kate had practically been cohabitating since they started dating though Kate had maintained that No they didn’t live together until they’d been together for 9 months. Though Benedict had eyed the little sofa that had suspiciously appeared in the corner of his brother’s living room after a month embroidered with Newton rather dubiously.
So here he sat, staring at his girlfriend calmly reading a book as though he were a lunatic desperately trying to figure out how to delicately raise the subject with her.
“Do I have something on my face?” Sophie’s calm voice broke through his reverie, startling him a little. She was looking at him a little curiously, her hand frozen midway through turning the page of Vanity Fair. Benedict shook his head quickly
“Sophie, I want to talk to you about something, I’m just not really sure how to bring it up?” He said as calmly as he could manage though the end of his sentence tilted upwards as though it were a question. Sophie’s reaction was immediate. Her posture stiffened, her eyes were suddenly harder, as though she’d shut a door in them, her book closed sharply, and her voice wobbled only slightly when she said.
“It’s fine, Ben. I get it, this was probably a little too good to be true anyway.” She smiled sadly and made to get up from the sofa next to him, and panic clawed at Benedict’s chest. He’d thought she might be hesitant but this reaction he had no idea what to do with. She was halfway across the room by the time he could force himself to react.
“So you, don’t want to live together?” He said quickly, his words coming out as a jumbled mess, falling over each other. Sophie froze again, and then turned slowly back towards him, her mouth slightly open.
“Live together? So you don’t want to break up?” Her voice was tiny when she asked it, barely floating back to him on the couch. Benedict bolted from the sofa his heart in his throat, wrapping Sophie in his arms tightly.
“I love you, Soph.” He said firmly, and he heard her sharp intake of breath and felt something suspiciously like tears on his chest “I love you, and I want you to move in with me so I can keep loving you in a place that’s ours.” Sophie pulled back slightly her eyes still a little hesitant her voice cracking when she spoke.
“I want that too Ben but... I don’t think I can afford your rent?” And Benedict’s heart broke again.
“Sophie... I don’t pay rent? Or a mortgage. And I know that makes you uncomfortable but I’m not going to take money from you when I don’t need it.” Sophie shifted a little uncomfortably and was silent for several seconds. Benedict felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest, and then finally
“Okay.” she said, her voice still small though a smile was forming on her face.
“Okay?” He said, excitement creeping into his voice, into his whole body
“Okay. Let’s live together.” And Benedict picked her up and spun her around the living room, laughing brightly.
“I love you too.” She whispered in his ear later that night, in the bed that was now theirs and Benedict thought he’d do everything he could, for the rest of his life to keep her right there beside him.
This got so long I’m so sorry!
#bridgerton and sons au#benedict x sophie#benedict bridgerton#sophie beckett#moving in together#molly's asks and answers#sophie deserves everything good and i'm gonna give them to her in this au tbh
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An Agreement Between Gentlemen (Chapter 9/14)
Continuation of the E/R Bridgerton AU, regency-era fake-marriage fic. I feel confident enough in the remainder of my outline to finally put the end chapter number up top, though of course, it’s subject to change because I’m, you know, me. (Chapter 1 tumblr | AO3, chapter 2 tumblr | AO3, chapter 3 tumblr | AO3, chapter 4 tumblr | AO3, chapter 5 tumblr | AO3, chapter 6 tumblr | AO3, chapter 7 tumblr | AO3, chapter 8 tumblr | AO3)
Rarely has this Author been so inundated with the same piece of news, and so while most readers likely already know this, it must still be reported for those apparently unaware or living under a rock: the Marquess of Enjolras has made his triumphant return to the city.
But those hoping to catch a glimpse of the new Marchioness will find themselves disappointed: the Marchioness has returned to her family home, having apparently fallen ill while on her honeymoon. Still, there is plenty of time left in the season for her to make an appearance, so all hope is not lost.
And while she has not yet taken her place in the Enjolras manor, this Author has learned that her brother has been invited to stay with the Marquess, a move that gives no credence to the rumors that the two have fallen out ahead of the Marquess’s marriage to Mr. Grantaire’s sister. Indeed, if anything, the pair’s unlikely friendship seems only stronger now, which only proves that the marriage mart truly does make strange bedfellows.
Far more important than their living situation, of course, is the annual de Courfeyrac ball this very evening. With the Marquess back in town, he is certain to attend, and this Author is equally certain that even without his new bride to accompany him, all eyes will surely be on the one bachelor who got away…LADY WHISTELDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 14 MAY 1831
“Stop fidgeting.”
“I’m not fidgeting,” Enjolras grumbled, though he reluctantly stopped playing with the cuff of his shirtsleeves.
Grantaire rolled his eyes as the receiving line at the de Courfeyrac Ball inched forward. “You are so,” he said in an undertone. “And leave your damned cravat alone, it took me near a quarter hour to get it to lay right.”
Enjolras had barely even starting to reach up to adjust his cravat, and his hand fell back to his side as he gave Grantaire a look. “Yes, but only because you were the one who untied it in the first place.”
As Grantaire had indeed been the one who had untied it, in the carriage ride over to the de Courfeyrac manor, mostly to give himself better access to Enjolras’s neck, his self-satisfied grin was somewhat to be expected. “Yes, well, can you really blame me?” he murmured, eyeing Enjolras appreciatively. “I know you hate formal dress, but by God, man, you were made to wear an evening coat.”
Enjolras could not help but preen at that, just a little, even as he warned Grantaire teasingly, “Keep looking at me like that and our cover will be blown sooner than you think.”
Grantaire just laughed lightly. “Please,” he said dismissively. “I’ve been looking at you like this for ten years now with none the wiser.” He paused and considered it. “Or at least, with none willing to comment on it, and I doubt very much that would change now.”
But Enjolras was still focused on the first part of what Grantaire had said. “You’ve really been looking at me like this for a decade?”
Grantaire smirked. “Again, can you blame me?”
Enjolras hesitated, wondering for not the first time what it had been like for Grantaire, to love him as he had for as long as he had, and with Enjolras among those none the wiser. “Does it bother you that I never noticed?”
“I think it would have bothered me more if you had,” Grantaire said, sounding a little surprised by the question. “I wasn’t ready for you to know before.”
“And now?”
Grantaire shrugged, a little helplessly. “Well, that cat’s quite out of the bag regardless, isn’t it?” he asked, before his voice softened, just slightly. “Besides, no matter how prepared I was, it was worth it in the end.”
Enjolras smiled as well. “Keep talking like that and I might be tempted to do something untowards,” he murmured, bending his head toward Grantaire.
“Scandalous,” Grantaire said, with a wicked smirk. “Besides, keep talking like that and I might just let you.”
Enjolras let out a laugh, but his amusement did not last long. As the line barely moved, he could not help but bounce on the balls of his feet, trying to glance over the top of the receiving line. “I wish Courf would just let us go in with having to go through the whole thing,” he muttered.
“Yes, I too wish my friends would allow me to break all social protocol just because I dread having to sit through it,” Grantaire said wryly. “But alas, seeing as how we live in the real world…”
He trailed off as the line started moving again, and finally, with only a few more minutes’ delay, Enjolras and Grantaire were at the front of the receiving line. “Enjolras!” Courfeyrac called, sounding elated, and he grasped Enjolras by both shoulders before leaning in and kissing both his cheeks. “And Grantaire!” To Enjolras’s surprise, he embraced Grantaire in much the same way – and judging by Grantaire’s wide eyes, he was equally surprised.
“Christ, Courfeyrac, have you been borrowing Jehan’s opium?” Grantaire muttered when Courfeyrac finally released him.
Courfeyrac ignored him, just beaming at both of them. “From brothers in arms to brothers in law!” he trilled, clapping his hands together. “What an unexpected twist to this tale. Enjolras, you must find me later and fill me in on the details.”
Enjolras tried to smile, though he was pretty sure it looked more like a wince. “I am certain you would track me down if I didn’t.”
Courfeyrac laughed loudly and waved them through. For as long as he had waited to finally get inside, Enjolras found himself hesitating at the ballroom entrance, dreading what welcome awaited him within in the wake of his ‘scandal’ and marriage.
As if sensing exactly what he was feeling, Grantaire found his hand and covertly squeezed it, his own hand warm and strong in Enjolras’s. “Be easy,” he whispered in Enjolras’s ear, and for the first time all evening, Enjolras relaxed, just slightly.
Of course, he tensed once again when they finally entered the ballroom, and the first person Enjolras saw across the way was Combeferre. He reached out blindly for Grantaire’s arm, gripping his elbow harder than he likely needed to.
This was always going to be the hardest part of their charade, as Enjolras had confided in Grantaire the previous night as they lay together in his bed, neither one tired enough yet to fall asleep. “I don’t know what to tell Combeferre and Courfeyrac,” he had confessed, turning so that he was facing Grantaire.
“What were you planning on telling them before?” Grantaire had asked, curiosity clear in his voice.
“Before what?” Enjolras had asked.
Grantaire had given him a look. “Before, when it was just a straightforward fictional marriage,” he said dryly.
“Oh.” Enjolras flushed slightly. “Frankly, I hadn’t given it much thought. I was certainly going to allude to the arrangement solving certain matters with my mother, and let them draw their own conclusions.”
“And that same answer will no longer suffice?”
Enjolras had drawn Grantaire close to kiss him lightly. “Frankly, I suspect my interactions with you will undermine the credibility of that explanation. Combeferre and Courfeyrac are not stupid, and decidedly more observant than myself.”
Grantaire’s expression softened. “Then we need not interact in front of them,” he had said quietly. “I am overdue in seeing Joly and Bossuet, and it is not as if any of our friends expects me to be at your side all evening. Or at all, frankly.”
While Enjolras had agreed at the time, now, faced with the reality of the situation, he wanted nothing more than Grantaire to stay at his side. But Grantaire was already pulling away, even as the look he gave Enjolras was gentle, and understanding. “They’re your friends,” he reminded Enjolras in an undertone.
“They’re your friends as well,” Enjolras muttered. “And they will likely forgive neither of us for the deception.”
“Forgive? Perhaps not, or at least not immediately. But they will understand.”
“Will they?” Enjolras asked, more rhetorical than anything, and mostly because Grantaire had already abandoned him, making a beeline to where Joly and Bossuet were talking quietly together in the corner.
With no excuse left, Enjolras crossed to where Combeferre waited, feeling more nervous than he frankly expected to be. Combeferre’s expression was completely neutral as he approached, which did not help Enjolras’s nerves. “Hello,” Combeferre said when Enjolras finally reached him. “Long time no see. Anything new with you?”
Enjolras laughed lightly. Combeferre’s dry humor had never before failed to put him at ease, and this was no exception. “Oh, a bit of this, a bit of that,” he said airily before adding, in a more serious tone, “I certainly doubt either you or I were expecting the events of the past few weeks.”
“After the scene your mother made at the Musain?” Combeferre returned with an arched eyebrow. “I expected you married within the fortnight. Grantaire’s sister was a twist I did not see coming.”
Enjolras shrugged, avoiding meeting Combeferre’s eyes. “Yes, well. A twist, but perhaps not as unpleasant a one as some would expect.”
Combeferre nodded slowly, looking at him closely. “Whatever anyone may say, you seem happy,” he remarked.
“Well, I am rid of my mother,” Enjolras said. “Or will be, once I hand over the dowry.”
Combeferre’s expression didn’t change as he took a sip of his drink. “I didn’t say you seemed relieved. I said you seem happy.”
As usual, Combeferre saw right through him, and Enjolras took a moment to compose his answer, opting for as much of the truth as he could give. “I suppose I am happy,” he said. “It’s...freeing, in a way, to know that part of my future is settled.”
“To be free,” Combeferre murmured. “What greater thing is there.”
Enjolras smiled. “Precisely.”
Combeferre nodded slowly. “Well, if you are happy, then I am happy,” he assured Enjolras, before adding, in a slightly disapproving tone, “Of course, Grantaire’s going to be a bit insufferable for awhile, I suppose.”
Enjolras felt his heart stop. Had Combeferre figured them out so quickly? “What do you mean?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm.
Combeferre raised an eyebrow. “Surely you realize – you’ve rather elevated his status.”
“In what way?”
“By marrying his sister, he is now brother-in-law to a marquess,” Combeferre said slowly, and Enjolras felt immediate relief that he had not figured him out. “Which may very well make him the most eligible bachelor here. A fact I’m certain he’s realized, even if you haven’t.”
He nodded towards the corner that Grantaire had headed to, but where previously he’d been in conversation with Joly and Bossuet, now they seemed surrounded by numerous young women. Enjolras’s initial relief was replaced by a pit in his stomach as he watched one such lady laugh, touching Grantaire’s arm in a way that made Enjolras’s vision go red.
Combeferre, as he always seemed to be, was correct. Before, Grantaire had been notorious as a rake whose sole redeeming quality was association with many powerful peers and gentry. But now, while he may still offer no title, he offered societal status that far too many mothers would crave for their daughters.
And even though Grantaire seemed quite convinced of his affection for Enjolras, there was little doubt that this could change things. After all, while Enjolras would get no enjoyment from marriage to any woman in the entire city, Grantaire very well might.
He was so busy watching Grantaire flirt (or at least, not automatically brush the young women off, which was tantamount to the same thing in Enjolras’s mind) that he barely noticed when Combeferre was pulled into a different conversation entirely, leaving him standing alone. It ended up for the best, though, as he then had no need to make an excuse for crossing the ballroom, making a beeline for Grantaire.
But he was intercepted on his way by Éponine Thenárdier, who blocked his path entirely. “Lord Enjolras,” she said, smiling sweetly at him.
Enjolras jerked a nod. “Miss Thenárdier,” he muttered, trying in vain to sidestep her, but she moved swiftly to again block his path.
“You must allow me to congratulate you on your nuptials,” she told him, her tone saccharine. “I wish you nothing but happiness, no matter how surprising the event was.”
Internally, Enjolras rolled his eyes, knowing damn well that she was trying to goad him into sharing details that would almost invariably make their way into Lady Whistledown the moment he spoke them. Externally, he forced a smile that almost certainly looked more like a grimace. “I’m not certain there’s much of a causal link between surprise and happiness, but thank you nonetheless.”
Éponine laughed lightly. “But where is your lovely bride this evening?”
She almost certainly already knew the answer, having undoubtedly read about it like everyone else had in Lady Whistledown, but Enjolras nonetheless gritted his teeth and told her, “I’m afraid she is ill, and staying at her family home in the country until she recovers.”
“Oh, how dreadful,” she said, though Enjolras noted she didn’t sound particularly upset by the news. “And we were all so eager to meet her.”
“I’m sure you were,” Enjolras muttered, before Grantaire appeared without warning at his side.
“Isn’t it a lovely ball?” he asked, so brightly that Enjolras wondered for a moment if he had been hit in the head – or been hitting the whiskey already. “It is as if someone has unhooked the stars and put them on the table in the guise of candles, don’t you think?”
Éponine’s smile slipped, for just a moment. “Indeed,” she murmured politely, but the look she gave Grantaire was icy as she swept away, clearly put out at having her attempted interrogation so rudely interrupted.
Grantaire smirked as he watched her leave, resting his hand on Enjolras’s back, a little too low to be entirely proper. “The trick,” he murmured in Enjolras’s ear, “is to be so banal that absolutely no one wishes to continue the conversation.”
Despite himself and the jealousy he could still feel, Enjolras was unable to stop his smile. “Is that your secret?” he asked in an undertone.
“My secret is usually to get drunk as quickly as possible and then disappear without saying goodbye,” Grantaire said cheerfully. “But as I am in polite company—” He nodded his head graciously at Enjolras, who rolled his eyes affectionately. “—we must make do together.”
And indeed they did. Enjolras was shocked to find that Grantaire’s trick of not providing any details about his fictional wife and instead speaking of the decor, or the weather, or something equally boring was enough to forestall almost all conversation that followed. It helped, he realized, as he and Grantaire made the rounds together, that far fewer young women and their mothers attempted to monopolize his time or beg him for a dance, almost certainly because they had set their sights on more available targets, and the ones that did want to make conversation were after gossip, like Éponine, and easily thwarted.
But neither was what really made the evening bearable; instead, it was Grantaire who proved the difference in the evening.. Grantaire, always quick with a quip or scathing observation under his breath, who stayed by his side despite the invitations to dance that he received. Grantaire, who knew without Enjolras needing to say a word when they needed to stop for refreshments or be pulled away from the conversation. Grantaire, who was as easy a companion as Enjolras had ever had.
And Grantaire who was, according to Combeferre at least, now the most eligible bachelor in the place.
As much as Grantaire was turning this most dreaded part of his social obligations into, perhaps not the most anticipated, but at least something that could be enjoyed rather than merely endured, Enjolras could not shake what Combeferre had said, or the pit that formed in his stomach when he thought about it.
“Is everything alright?” Grantaire asked an hour or so later, his brow furrowed as he looked at Enjolras.
“Fine,” Enjolras said quickly, giving him a tight smile. “Just a bit warm in here, do you not think?”
Grantaire studied him closely for a moment. “Perhaps we should step out onto the balcony,” he suggested. “Get some air.”
“That sounds like a good—”
“There you are!” Courfeyrac exclaimed with his usual exuberance as he joined them, oblivious to how close Enjolras had been to escaping. “As promised, since you did not come find me later as requested, I have instead hunted you down. And Grantaire is still at your side, how lovely.”
“Not for long,” Grantaire said, ignoring the pleading look Enjolras shot him. “I’m due for a refill. Anything for either of you?”
He did not wait for a reply, leaving Enjolras alone with Courfeyrac, whose smile had sharpened. “Come now, you can afford to look a little less panicked,” he said innocently, looping his arm through Enjolras’s. “After all, people will think you don’t wish to speak to one of your oldest friends.”
“Speak with, or be interrogated by?” Enjolras muttered.
Courfeyrac’s grin widened. “Potato, po-tah-to.” He patted Enjolras’s arm reassuringly. “But truly, more the former than the latter. Too many prying ears, and I’d rather learn the details of your scandal where they can’t be transmitted to the inimitable Lady Whistledown.”
Enjolras snorted. “Yes, that would be a shame,” he said dryly.
But something in his tone made Courfeyrac pause, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at Enjolras. “I was hardly anticipating you being the model of wedded bliss, but you seem far too downtrodden for someone who must no longer put up with the marriage mart. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Enjolras said, by instinct alone, and when Courfeyrac just looked at him, he sighed and relented. “Just something Combeferre said.”
He was expecting Courfeyrac to demand details, details that Enjolras would not be able to share without revealing the truth, but to his surprise, Courfeyrac just rolled his eyes and waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, ignore him,” he said. “He’s just jealous.”
Enjolras frowned. “Jealous?” he repeated. “Of what?”.
Courfeyrac looked at him as if the answer was obvious. “He thinks he’s been replaced, you fool,” he said impatiently, and when Enjolras still looked confused, added, “As your best friend. By Grantaire.”
The statement was so absurd that Enjolras barked a laugh before realizing Courfeyrac was entirely serious. “Really?” he asked derisively. “Forgive me, I did not realize we were still in the nursery.”
Courfeyrac just shrugged. “Perhaps not, but you cannot deny that he used to be your partner in crime when it came to your schemes.” He gave Enjolras an appraising look. “And whatever else you may say, you and I, I think, can acknowledge that this is a scheme of some variety, though of which, I could not say.”
Enjolras felt stricken at the realization of how Combeferre had interpreted his involvement with Grantaire, which, of course, couldn’t be further from the truth. “I never thought—”
Courfeyrac patted his arm. “Of course you didn’t.”
Enjolras sighed and tugged his arm out of Courfeyrac’s grip. “Still, I should go apologize.”
“You should do no such thing,” Courfeyrac said firmly, turning to face him head on. “You’ve done nothing wrong, but even if you had, actions speak louder than words. Spend some time planning with him before the next Les Amis gathering, and all will be forgiven.”
“But not forgotten.”
Courfeyrac just looked amused. “My dear fellow, none of us, I think, will be able to forget the moment when you and Grantaire finally stopped trying to kill each other using just your words.” His expression softened. “And believe me, no matter what Combeferre may say, we’re all quite grateful that you have.” His eyebrows raised. “Speaking of Grantaire, I believe he wants a word.”
He nodded over Enjolras’s shoulder, and Enjolras turned to find Grantaire, holding two glasses of champagne and gesturing with his head toward the door that led out to the balcony. Enjolras nodded his understanding, and turned back to Courfeyrac, who had already disappeared into the crowd.
Enjolras crossed to the balcony door as quickly as possible to avoid being waylaid once more, and this time, he was successful. Never had he been so relieved to find himself alone and out of doors, even if the night was unseasonably cold. Grantaire laughed lightly from where he was leaning against the balcony railing. “You look like you need this more than I do,” he said, offering Enjolras one of the glasses of champagne.
Enjolras took it gratefully and drained it in one long gulp. “I did need that,” he told Grantaire, setting the empty glass down on the flat top of the wide marble balustrade. “I suppose I did not fully appreciate how complicated this all was going to be on my return.”
Grantaire eyed him carefully, his expression unreadable. “Curious,” he said lightly. “You normally think through every detail before you take any action.”
Enjolras shrugged. “Desperation apparently made me less thorough,” he said. “And, of course, there were unanticipated complications along the way that I did not account for.”
Grantaire let out a light, humorless laugh. “Am I to assume that I am one of those complications?”
“Yes,” Enjolras said, not seeing any point in sugarcoating the truth. “Though a mostly welcome complication.”
Grantaire nodded slowly. “Who would have thought the word ‘mostly’ could feel like a dagger being driven into me,” he murmured, though he also hastened to add, “I jest, I jest.”
Enjolras traced a finger along the line of the balustrade. “I did not intend to hurt you by saying it,” he said heavily. “Only I think we need to be honest with one another.”
Grantaire searched his expression for a long moment. “I have been entirely honest with you,” he said carefully. “So if there is anyone with something to hide…”
He trailed off, looking at Enjolras expectantly. “Not to hide,” Enjolras hedged. “But one of the complications I did not anticipate has revealed itself this evening, and that is related to your social standing.”
Grantaire blinked. “My— what?”
“Combeferre pointed out that by me marrying your sister, your status has risen to one of the most eligible bachelors,” Enjolras explained. “And that knowledge complicates things.”
“How so?” Grantaire asked, his brow furrowed.
Enjolras shrugged, avoiding Grantaire’s eyes. “You have...options now, I suppose,” he muttered. “Real options, for a real marriage.” He hesitated before adding, “Options that I would not discourage you from exploring.”
Grantaire nodded slowly, turning to stare out at the sprawling grounds that surrounded the manner. After a long moment, he asked softly, “Am I being thrown over, then?”
“What?” Enjolras asked, confused.
“Is this your rather inelegant attempt to be rid of me?” Grantaire asked, his voice brittle. “Trying to soften the blow by intimating that I now have ‘options’?”
Enjolras stared blankly at him. “Of course not,” he spluttered. “That’s not at all what—”
“Then tell me,” Grantaire interrupted, “when I told you, multiple times now, that I love you, did you think I was speaking falsely?”
Enjolras scowled. “Not at all, but you did not know all the facts then!”
“And what facts could possibly matter in this regard?”
“The fact that you have a real chance to make a marriage match that would improve your standing and your family’s standing!” Enjolras snapped, though he wasn’t quite sure why he was angry, and especially at Grantaire. “You could secure a future for your lineage that any man would be envious of. It’s why most men put themselves through these torturous affairs.”
Grantaire just shook his head. “Most men, but not you, and certainly not me,” he said quietly.
Something in his tone caused Enjolras to deflate, but it also allowed him to realize why he was so angry, or more accurately, at whom he was so angry: himself. He had dragged Grantaire down this path, and this was perhaps the last real opportunity that either had to part ways before irreparable damage was done. “Think of what you are saying,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “I cannot offer you anything, not my name, not my title, not even the promise of the future if we are discovered. You deserve so much more than that.”
Grantaire shook his head again, but slower this time, and with a crooked sort of smile. “You can offer me the only thing I have ever wanted: you,” he said simply. “There is no one on Earth who can offer me more than that.” Enjolras shook his head, ready to interrupt, but Grantaire did not let him. “Do not seek to dismiss my words, when I mean every one of them. There is no happiness that I would find now with any other, not now that I know what true happiness is. Not now when I know what true love is.”
The breath caught in Enjolras’s throat, and for a moment, he could not speak. If he had been waiting for the perfect moment to finally tell Grantaire that he loved him, he knew he would never find one better than this. The music from the waltz taking place inside the ballroom swelled, and Enjolras leaned in toward Grantaire, reaching out to lightly cover Grantaire’s hand resting on the railing with his own. “Grantaire,” he started, his voice soft, “I—”
But before he could get the two most important words out, the doors to the balcony banged open, and Enjolras and Grantaire instinctively moved apart as two giggling couples spilled out of the ballroom.
The moment was thoroughly ruined, which perhaps explained the face Grantaire made as he turned back to Enjolras. “Shall we consider this our sign to adjourn for the evening?”
“Yes please,” Enjolras said with a sigh of relief.
His relief was short-lived, however, as a current of tension resonated between them as they made their way back through the ballroom and then waited out front until his carriage pulled around. As soon as they were inside and en route back to his place, Enjolras cleared his throat. “Shall we continue our conversation?”
Grantaire sighed. “I did not realize there was more to say.”
Enjolras gave him a look. “There is always more to say.”
“That should really be your family motto,” Grantaire muttered. “Plus semper est dicere.”
“I don’t think that’s an accurate translation,” Enjolras said mildly. “Though at least it’d probably be more appropriate than my actual family motto, Nox finiet.”
“Perhaps I’ll have Marius figure out the correct translation, then, and we can have it engraved on our stationary.”
Ordinarily, Enjolras probably would have laughed, but now, Grantaire’s attempt at glib just fell flat. “Grantaire—”
Grantaire ignored him. “After all, my family is too new amongst the gentry to have a motto of our own. Of course, if I ever got to pick a family motto, I’d probably choose Fidelitas usque ad mortem.”
His words were pointed, and Enjolras swallowed, hard. “Faithful until death.”
Grantaire met his gaze steadily. “And I aim to be.”
“I do not doubt that you will be,” Enjolras said quietly. “I only wish that you would consider what your loyalty will cost you.”
Grantaire reached out and took his hand. “Even if it costs me everything in this life and the next, it will be more than worth it.” He raised Enjolras’s hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “If you will have me, at least.”
Enjolras squeezed his hand, but before he could respond, the carriage jolted to a stop, and he glanced outside. “We’re home already?” he asked, somewhat surprised.
Grantaire just chuckled lightly. “One day we’ll figure out our timing,” he said before stepping out of the carriage and turning to help Enjolras down.
But Enjolras was not so willing to surrender the moment this time. As soon as his driver had left, he grabbed Grantaire’s hand, pulling him away from the lamplight at the door. “Before we go in, there’s something that I wished to say.”
“Something so secret you dare not speak it in earshot of your servants?” Grantaire asked, amused.
“Be serious,” Enjolras said with a frown.
Grantaire just smiled at him, his eyes sparkling even in the dim light. “I am wild.”
“Grantaire…”
“Fine, fine,” Grantaire said, chuckling. “What is it you wished to say?”
Enjolras took a deep breath. “Only that our time together has meant more to me than I ever thought it could. Not just our time up north, when it was just the two of us. But our time tonight as well. “
“Even when we were quarreling?” Grantaire asked.
“Especially when we were quarreling,” Enjolras said firmly. “Because our quarrel came from us wanting the best for each other.” He took both of Grantaire’s hands in his. “I do not know what the future holds, but I know that I want you in it, options be damned. Besides, with you at my side, I’m beginning to think anything is possible.”
Grantaire was quiet for a long moment before he leaned in and kissed Enjolras gently. “I may not share your belief in possibility, but I too have valued our time together,” he said softly. “It is everything I always dreamt it would be, and so much more.”
Enjolras laughed breathily. “You dismiss my belief in possibility, only to speak of dreams?”
Grantaire half-smiled. “Possibility speaks to hope,” he said with a shrug. “I never hoped my dreams would come true, though I am gladder than words can say that they have. That they are.” He squeezed Enjolras’s hands. “And who knows, you may make a believer out of me yet.”
This was Enjolras’s moment, and he took a deep breath, ready to finally say those three words he knew Grantaire wanted to hear more than anything else. “Grantaire, I—”
“Lord Enjolras?”
Enjolras could not stop the groan that escaped from his lips as he let go of Grantaire’s hands at the sound of his butler’s voice. “What is it, Porter?” he asked tiredly, taking a step towards the now-open door.
Porter cleared his throat. “Begging your pardon for the interruption,” he said, “but we’ve received word from the Marchioness.” Enjolras and Grantaire exchanged startled glances, and Porter corrected himself. “Beg pardon, the Dowager Marchioness. Your mother.”
Enjolras felt the blood drain from his face. “Christ,” he muttered. “What does she want?”
“She is planning on visiting tomorrow morning,” Porter said, glancing at Grantaire before looking back at Enjolras. “And I thought you would want to know immediately so that, ah, arrangements can be made.”
Not for the first time, Enjolras wondered how much Porter had surmised of what was going on between himself and Grantaire, and decided quickly that he cared less than making sure his mother knew absolutely nothing. “You were correct, Porter, thank you,” he said, and Porter nodded before closing the door again.
Enjolras sighed and looked back at Grantaire, but before he could say anything, Grantaire cleared his throat. “I should spend the night at mine tonight,” he said, in a tone that brooked no argument. “The last thing you need is to start your conversation with your mother with an explanation for our unusual living arrangement.”
“I know that you’re almost certainly right, but I wish to God you weren’t,” Enjolras said, reaching out to draw Grantaire close. “I need you on my side against her.”
Grantaire just laughed and tilted his head up to kiss Enjolras, a quick, fleeting kiss. “You will be fine,” he said with far more confidence than Enjolras felt. “I promise that I will be back tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, but before or after my mother leaves?” Enjolras muttered mutinously.
Grantaire laughed again and pressed one more kiss to Enjolras’s lips. “I love you,” he murmured before stepping away. “And I will see you in the morning.”
Enjolras watched him go, dreading the next morning and wishing more than anything that he had not waited until Grantaire was out of earshot to finally reply, “I love you, too.”
#exr#enjolras x grantaire#enjoltaire#enjolras#grantaire#with some Les Amis actually making a real appearance!#gasp!#les miserables#fanfiction#bridgerton au#regency au#canon era#fake marriage#developing relationship#chaptered#part 9
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