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Chapter Text

Sophie had never really had the chance to marry for love.

She’d hoped to. She’d certainly hoped.

Unfortunately, before she’d even had a chance to debut, she was already engaged. A betrothal she had never even said yes to (not that she was given a chance to even say ‘yes’ or ‘no.’) Only being made aware of the arrangement when she was ten and seven, and more than a decade after it had been secured. 

Her guardian – her father really – the Earl of Penwood, pulled her aside one day in late May. An unexpected action as he usually barely gave her any notice, dismissive distance was his norm, but he brought her into his office that afternoon to inform her she would not be going with her step-relatives to London the next year as she had initially thought (as she had originally hoped she should say). She would not be given a season in the ton at all as there was no reason for her to enter the marriage mart. He'd already found a match for her. A match that had been arranged back when she was still a child, without her knowledge or awareness, let alone her opinion, by her father and a viscount. She was to marry said viscount's eldest son. 

Many emotions went through Sophie at that moment. Shock. Disappointment. Anger. Anxiety. Fear. Dread. And very briefly, hope. 

None of which she could show to the earl as he informed her. 

As much of a shock as it was, it was a match she had no reason to complain over. She couldn’t. She was 'marrying up' as the ton would say. A lowly ward marrying a viscount through an arranged marriage was not just unusual but unheard of. It was only because she had "connections" and "legitimacy" that it would be barely forgiven by upper society but forgiven, nonetheless. Her guardian had respectability through his title and business dealings. At the same time, the family she was marrying into was well-known and was just as well regarded as her family by those around them.

And her father's promise of a fifteen-thousand-pound dowry also helped.

But Sophie had always been a romantic. After a childhood of loneliness that turned into an adolescence of it, the one hope Sophie had left was finding someone who loved her for who she was. That had now been taken away for her in an instant. By the same man who had helped contribute to her lonely life. 

And she barely knew anything about her intended besides his name.

Anthony Bridgerton. 

That wasn't entirely true. Sophie knew he was a very sought-after match, who had become a viscount only two years after their engagement had been negotiated. He was also apparently very handsome and had seven siblings, three brothers and four sisters, which helped mitigate some of the disappointment she felt with the arranged marriage. That she would at least be marrying into a rather large family. 

Maybe one of them would like her. 

She only hoped her eventual meeting with them would go better than the one with her step-relatives. 

But her father being less than forthcoming about the man she would marry made the agreement challenging to swallow. And it wasn't easy for her to find anything herself. Spending all her time in the country meant she knew nothing more about the upper echelons of society, the drama, and scandals occurring in London each season. Only what she was told by others. Posy was not out yet herself but had been dragged to London during her sister's seasons and was able to provide what she could about the Bridgertons. Sophie would never ask Rosamund for help, especially since Rosamund threw a fit when she found out Sophie was engaged to the eldest Bridgerton (and Araminta had only been worse about it). 

Which was why Sophie found herself doing something incredibly foolish towards the end of the summer. 

The Bridgerton family estate, Aubrey Hall, was only a few miles away from Penwood Park, and the dowager countess was hosting a masquerade. One to celebrate the end of the season and the members of the ton's returning to the countryside. With help from Miss Gibbons and some of the servants, Sophie had slipped out the back kitchen door dressed in an old, silver gown once belonging to her paternal grandmother and a white, crystal-beaded mask covering her face and into a waiting carriage. It was the same carriage that had taken Araminta and Rosamund only a few hours earlier and would have to return her to Penwood Park before midnight. The earl was in London till the coming weekend, and Posy had promised to stay quiet in exchange for knowing first everything that happened. Everything that Sophie saw and learned. 

It was idiotic and risky, but the rush of excitement that had flood through Sophie at the thought when Miss Gibbons had presented to her the gown was too much to ignore. Sophie had never gone to a ball before. 

Besides, if no one was going to tell her what the man she was supposed to marry was like, what he even looked like, then she would just have to find out for herself. 

Slipping into Aubrey Hall, the home of the family she was to soon marry into, Sophie maneuvered with ease through the building and the crowds of the high-ranking members of society. The ones who had traveled out to Kent for the event. Forcing courage in an effort to not stand out, Sophie worked to make it look as if she knew exactly what she was doing and thus would blend in without issue. 

Aubrey Hall had been beautifully decorated for the occasion. The estate felt more lively and homier than Penwood Park. Brighter. The home painted and decorated in lighter colors compared to the murky, dark tones of Penwood Park. She could hear giggles and whispers from upstairs as she moved quickly through the front hall, noticing the tops of heads peeking over banisters from the corner of her eye, before they immediately ducked down. 

Sophie took in as much detail as she could as she wandered throughout the home behind a few other late arrivals, hoping to find a family portrait or maybe even an individual one of the mysterious Anthony Bridgerton. Perhaps she would be lucky to overhear a conversation regarding the hosts of tonight's event.  

Sneaking into the ballroom, Sophie had only taken a few steps into the room when she suddenly felt overcome. Freezing in place momentarily. A buzzing sensation rushed through her, the oddest of sensations, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up straight, making her involuntarily shudder. Trying to brush off the feeling as she continued through the room, Sophie still felt as though someone was watching her, but when she glanced around, there was no one staring in her direction. 

However, she spotted Araminta and Rosamund standing on the other side of the room, conversing with another young lady and mother who looked eerily similar to her step-relatives. The blonde hair was a similar platinum color, and Sophie could tell the same icy looks, ones she'd commonly seen on Araminta and Rosamund, were behind those purple and blue masks. 

Like calls to like , Sophie supposed as she continued on.

Posy told her the Bridgerton all had dark hair, except for one of the daughters whose hair was reddish orange, but that didn't make it any easier to pick out who they were amongst the crowd. And all the daughters had yet to debut, meaning the three eldest sons would be the only ones potentially in attendance. 

And everyone was also wearing masks. The men, especially, were all wearing matching black evening suits and masks. 

"Bridgerton did well enough at the races last week." 

Hearing the words "Bridgerton" from a group of men nearby, Sophie slowly walked closer to them, keeping herself hidden behind one of the prominent pillars set up around the room to hold up a large vase with purple and white flowers on top. 

"That's because he's struck some deal with the devil to never lose a bet he made," another gentleman said. 

The other man he was speaking with laughed. "Unless it involves cards."

They continued on in their conversation, moving away from their discussion on one of the Bridgerton men. And not providing enough detail to figure out which, forcing Sophie to move on. 

Moving again through the ballroom, a quadrille was danced as all the non-dancing guests conversed, watched, and drank on the sides of the room; she soon came across a group of young ladies standing off to the side. They were all fanning themselves and speaking about the eligible men they hoped would still be available in the coming year. Sophie kept enough distance to hear what they were saying but was still overlooked and ignored by the group. 

One of the ladies who wore a champagne dress with white lace flowers seemed rather distressed, being comforted by the others. She appeared upset over not securing a marriage this year and bemoaned having to become a spinster if she did not find one next season. 

"I heard Lord Weatherby is planning to seek a wife next season," one of the ladies who wore a soft lilac dress said. 

"And Lord Lumley," another in teal with pink and purple embroidered flowers added. 

"And none of the Bridgertons are married yet," a third lady dressed in green with sunflowers stitched into the skirt said. 

"None of the Bridgertons are looking for a wife," the lady in champagne whined. "And by the time they decide to, I'll already be an old maid."

"Every rake settles down at some point, especially the firstborn," the lady in teal explained. Sophie perked up at the mention, shifting every so much in their direction.

"Lord Bridgerton barely gives any lady the time of day unless it's his mother or one of his sisters," champagne stated. 

"I heard the viscount is already engaged, though," a fourth girl in orange informed them, smiling proudly, and the others all gasped as Sophie cringed.

"When did you learn this?" the one in lilac asked. They could be sisters, Sophie realized. Both had the exact same shade of auburn hair. 

"To whom?" the one in green asked. 

The one in orange shrugged. "No idea. My lady's maid heard it from one of the Bridgrton's maids. Apparently, the girl will turn ten and eight next year, and that was when it was decided they would marry. She said that the entire family is unhappy about it."

If the ground could have opened up and swallowed Sophie whole at that very moment, she would have welcomed it. 

Her in-laws hated her. The man she was to marry probably hated her, and she had yet to meet him or any of his siblings. 

"If they all hate it so much, why not call it off? Gives the rest of us another chance to snag him," the champagne-dressed one asked. 

"Because the previous viscount, their father, arranged it," Orange said. "None of them will go against it."

"Lucky girl, whoever she is," Green commented, sipping her drink. 

"I wish my father could secure a match with the Bridgertons," Teal said with a sigh. "If someone could get one, there must be a way."

"The Bridgertons are all about love matches. That's why they're so difficult to catch. It's probably why they are so upset about the arrangement," Champagne remarked angrily. "Lucky cow."

"She's probably ugly," Lilac assured. 

"She's probably rich," Champagne corrected. 

"She's probably rich, but she's also probably ugly," Teal said, and they all laughed. 

It was best to move on before her nonexistent self-confidence was further beaten into the ground. The barbs stung, but the knowledge of how her in-laws felt was far worse. Her eyes were becoming wet, and she wasn't in a position to be crying in public. 

This was a horrible idea, she realized. Coming here. 

Trying to find a way out of the stuffy, crowded room, Sophie became distracted while attempting to wipe away the tears forming behind her mask. So much, that she wandered straight into a solid body coming from the other direction.

"Apologies," Sophie blurted out as she stumbled back. 

A taller gentleman in a black evening suit with an emerald color cravat stood before her. Like the other male guests, he wore a mask, a simple black one.

"Not at all. The fault was mine," he reassured. 

Even with the mask obscuring half of his face, what Sophie could see was he was pretty handsome. He had a nice jawline, his hair was as dark as the mask he wore, and his pale eyes were a lovely mix of gray and blue. The gentleman was also smiling, a crooked one where the left side of his mouth perked up higher than the right. 

"Have we met before?" he asked, looking at her curiously.

Sophie shook her head. "I do not believe so."

"Are you certain? I only ask because you seem very familiar," the gentleman said.

"I am not lying, sir, if I-" she started, her voice cracking. She was doomed if she was recognized or someone figured out who she was. Worst of all, her fears were threatening to overcome her. 

"I was not accusing you," the gentleman assured softly, his hands hovering over her arms. Not touching, just hovering over her sleeves. "You have my sincere apologies if I offended you." 

Sophie shook her head again, trying to stop the still-forming tears. "It's alright." 

"I can see I've upset you," the gentlemen told her. 

"It's fine, really."

"Are you sure everything is alright?" 

"Yes."

"You don't look fine."

"I'm fine, really," Sophie repeated, trying to sound neutral, but her voice betrayed her by cracking again on the last word. She cringed. 

"Please let me at least get you a drink to help you feel better. Or maybe a dance?" the gentleman asked slowly. 

A nervous laugh escaped from Sophie's lips as she got a gloved finger under the mask to wipe away a tear. She'd taken lessons, but Sophie appeared to have been cursed with two left feet. She'd never been able to fully remember the steps for a waltz or a quadrille and had constantly stepped on her teacher's toes when practicing. Posy was better at dancing than she was, better than Rosamund too. 

She'd just met the man, and now he was offering to dance with her. "I would only embarrass you if we did. I'm afraid I'm rather terrible when it comes to dancing. Horrendous, in fact." 

"As someone who had to help teach their sisters how to dance, which was not a pleasant experience, I'm certain you would not be the worst dance partner I've had," was the gentleman's reply.

Sophie shifted nervously. She barely knew the gentlemen in front of her, and there was a little voice in her head telling her she'd be caught if she went with him. And if she was caught, she was doomed. 

But there was another, tinier voice whispering excitedly for her to take the offer. A tiny little devil standing on her shoulder whispering “ Go with him. Go with him .”

"There is a patio. A quieter one. One I'm certain no one will be using if you are so worried about others seeing you dance. I'd be happy to give you pointers to improve your skills. Helping to teach three sisters has made me quite good on the ballroom floor," the gentlemen explained, offering her a hand. 

The tiny voice whispered again at her to go. There would never be another chance if she said no. In a year, she would be married. She'd be a viscountess with duties and expectations and married to a family that hated her, but tonight she was still Sophie Beckett.

And the gentlemen before her did not know of any of that.

A gentleman she could not ignore was very pleasing on the eyes. 

Very pleasing. 

"You can get some air as well," he added. 

She smiled, sniffling still as she took his hand with her gloved one. "Alright. If you believe yourself so adept that you can succeed where others have failed, by all means, lead the way." 

The gentleman's crooked smile only grew. He gently escorted her from the room and down a hallway. It got quieter as they moved through the estate, away from where most of the guests were until they slipped through a door and onto a stone patio. She could still hear the music playing a distance away, but the crickets were louder than the music. And there was no one else on the patio, nor in the room they had exited from. 

"How did you know no one would be out here?" she asked the gentlemen.

"Attend enough of these and you learn where people gather and where they stay away from," he replied dismissively, gently pulling her toward the middle of the patio. "Now, I believe I was going to teach you to dance."

"You mean try to improve my skills," she corrected. 

"But of course," the gentleman joked. He'd turned, so they were now facing each other. One hand on her waist and the other holding her hand still. Sophie knew from her teachings to put the hand he was not holding onto his shoulder. 

"You seem very confident," she told him.

"Well, I am very good," he replied, leaning closer. 

With him closer to her, the sensation she'd felt earlier had suddenly returned; now, it was a warm flutter in her stomach. Like butterflies or doves trapped within a box. Trying to get out.

"Well, I wish you the best of luck in your endeavor," she said with a smile. 

"I don't need luck," he returned, smiling. "Now, can you hear the music?" 

She nodded, and the man continued explaining to her the steps for the waltz. It was a slow process. The man told her to follow the music and showed her the steps she needed to take as they moved. A continuous manta of "one and two and three and four" as they glided around the half-moon-shaped patio helped her focus somewhat. Still, as Sophie expected, she stepped on his foot a few times and apologized profusely. He appeared unbothered each time.

"I taught three sisters, remember? They did far worse to my feet and shins than you have," the gentleman reminded as he spun her around. "Just keep your eyes on me." 

Sophie glanced up, taking her eyes off of where they'd been intently focusing on his shoes. "Are you close with them? Your sisters?" she asked. 

"We have our differences at times, like most siblings. They are all younger than me and yet believe themselves far more intelligent and experienced, but I'd still do anything for them," he replied. 

Sophie couldn't help but smile. "That's wonderful."

"Do you have any siblings?"

"Stepsisters."

"Are you close?"

"As best as we can" wasn't entirely a lie. She got along with Posy, which was easier when Araminta wasn't around, but stayed out of Rosamund's path whenever she could.

"My sisters can get into quite the arguments sometimes. Over the most trivial matters," he told her, spinning her around again before pulling her back towards him, making sure to keep a gap between them. "For instance, my sister Daphne was furious because my youngest sister, Hyacinth, borrowed a pair of her shoes without asking and then scuffed them. It was silly, really, Daphne has almost fifty other pairs, and they weren't even a pair she liked." 

Sophie was sure Rosamund would slap her if she borrowed any of her clothes or shoes without asking; she probably would if all Sophie had done was touch them. 

"They made up in the end," he added. "Daphne realized she may have overreacted, and Hyacinth apologized for taking them without asking…well, she apologized after some prodding from my mother." 

"It's lovely that you all get along," she said.

"Trust me, it can get rather chaotic at times, but there is never a boring moment in our house," he replied. The music being played began to slowly fade to silence. "And I believe it has been almost a full song since you last stepped on my toes."

Sophie let out a soft "Oh!" in surprise, but in her surprise it led her to get distracted, forgetting the mantra she'd been repeating in her head. She stumbled, stepping directly onto his foot. Again. 

"Maybe I spoke too soon," he said with a laugh.

She couldn't help but groan. "I am so sorry. I truly am hopeless."

"I would say there is still hope. You did successfully dance through one song," he reminded her as he stepped back. 

"You are far too kind," she told him. 

The dancing had helped. Her head felt a little clearer, and she didn't feel the unwanted need to cry anymore. A nice escape from the coming reality she would have to soon return to the moment she returned to Penwood Park. 

She moved over towards the balcony's stone banister to rest against it for a moment. 

"Thank you," she said as she turned back to him. 

"I'm glad I could help," the gentleman replied. He stood next to her, leaning against the banister with his arms crossed over his chest. 

They stood there for a moment, silently, the sounds of the band beginning to perform another song played in the distance. The crickets were still chirping in the bushes around them. 

"Forgive me if I'm being forward, but are you certain you are alright?" The gentleman asked finally. 

Sophie sighed. "I frankly feel much better now than I did earlier."

"May I ask what happened?" he asked. 

"It's fine, I just…well…" she hesitates to answer. She was engaged. Set to marry another man. How was she supposed to tell him she belonged to someone else?

"Has someone said something untoward?"

She shook her. "I found out…well…I found out that I'm not very well-liked by the family I'm expected to marry into."

"You're engaged?" he sounded surprised, expectedly, and Sophie cringed as she saw him take half a step back away from her. "My apologies…had I known I would have-"

"It's an arranged match," she told him quickly. "I had no say in the decision."

The gentleman relaxed somewhat but still kept his distance. "Ah, I see…and I suppose you are not happy about it?" 

She shrugged. "I do not exactly have a choice in the matter." 

"When are you going to marry?"

"Soon."

"And I suppose this was your first season?"

"I've never had one." 

"So, who did you come here with?" 

Sophie stopped, eyes widened as she felt her cheeks burn. The gentleman watched her before his gray eyes widened. He’d realized what her lack of response meant.

"You snuck in here?" he whispered, letting out a chuckle as he leaned away from her in surprise. He was smiling, impressed by her actions. 

"I only slipped in through a door when no one was looking," she smiled sheepishly as she admitted to her crimes. 

He laughed. A deep, hearty laugh of joy at what she had done, which only made Sophie smile more. 

"Very impressive. And might I say 'very bold,'" he told her.

She smiled to herself, touched, before sighing. "I guess I just wanted a moment before everything happened."

"A moment of what?"

Thinking it over, Sophie wasn't entirely sure. She supposed just something better than the loneliness of her life and the hopelessness she'd felt since finding out about her engagement.

"I'm not sure," she finally told him. "I guess I was trying to fit a lifetime into one night."

"A rather difficult endeavor, I'm sure," the gentleman said, and she couldn't help but agree.

"A little escape before my marriage, then," she replied, amending her answer.

The gentleman paused for a moment. "I'm sorry," he finally told her. "I know it is probably not much, but I am sorry."  

She shrugged. "There is not much you can do. I do not have much choice in any of this. I have to go through with the marriage. I have to, and I will." 

"Still," he said with a slight tilt of the head as he spoke. "I wish there was more I could do."

Sophie glanced over at the man, smiling. "You were a wonderful dance partner and a pleasant distraction."

The gentleman smiled playfully. "You find me pleasant?" 

She giggled. "I believe I also said 'wonderful.'"

"That you did," he said.

He'd moved closer to her as they spoke, even though she had informed him she was engaged. Now, the gentleman was only an inch away from touching her as he leaned against the banister and appeared to no longer be bothered by her not being single (technically).

"I find you wonderful as well," he told her softly.

"And pleasant?" she joked.

"Beautiful," he corrected. 

Sophie swallowed as her heart began steadily increasing in its beating. A nervous chuckle slipped from her lips as the warm fluttering feeling in her stomach continued building, moving up from her stomach towards her chest. Her cheeks burned from the compliment.

No one had ever told her she was beautiful. 

"I mean it. Even with the mask, I do not believe I've ever seen someone as heavenly as you in my life," he told her.

Why she did what she did next, Sophie was not sure, but she found herself grabbing the ribbon, holding the mask against her face, and pulling loose the bow. Grasping the mask before it fell off her face, she gently placed it down on the hard, stone top of the banister before turning back to the gentleman. It somehow felt better without it on. She could feel the wind cooling her face.

"If I may amend my word," a strike of fear jolted through her as she worried he would now reject her, but the gentleman seemed to be staring at her in wonder. "Because I find mesmerizing to be a far better descriptor. You are mesmerizing."

Sophie smiled. "You aren't too bad yourself." 

Shaking his head in disbelief as he looked at her. "I do not understand how we have never met before. You seem so familiar. As though I have known you my entire life."

"I'm certain I would recall if I had," she couldn't ignore the strange feeling that came over her as well, like deja vu but different. However, she knew she'd never met the man. There was no possible way she could have. 

The gentleman snorted, still smiling at her with his lopsided grin. "You're certain?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"Truly," he was leaning closer now. 

Sophie turned, so her back was now resting on the banister. "Positive."

"Shame," he breathed out. He moved an arm around her and rested his hand on the banister, trapping her between his arms. He towered over her, but Sophie felt neither scared nor alarmed by him being so close. Instead, her heart began beating faster and faster as she found herself filled with excitement. 

"Had I met you earlier, I would not have wasted a moment courting you."

She couldn't help but laugh in disbelief. He would surely think differently if he knew who she really was. Of her ward status. She knew she was not the woman men – eligible men of class and stature – would seek out by choice.

"What?" he asked. 

"I doubt you would have wasted a moment on me if we had," she informed him, shaking her head. 

The gentleman watched her, silently, not surprised or confused by her words but Sophie could see he was frowning. He did not seem to agree with her. 

"I assure you," the man said, voice low and quiet. "I would certainly have spent every moment of my time seeking your attention, and it would have been worth it. Every second." 

She swallowed. "Well, I'm sure I would have enjoyed it."

He was incredibly close to her now, his face inches away from hers. A dangerous territory for them both, that only further excited her. The tiny voice, her little devil, was back, egging her on. Whispering to her to kiss him. 

"I would like to remind you," she said slowly, glancing at his lips and back to his eyes. "I am engaged. To another man."

"A man you said you did not want to be married to," he returned.

One of his hands was on her hip now, his thumb right where her hip bone was, pressing down. 

She tried not to smile, glancing away from him to stop the continuous temptation that came with staring into his pale eyes. "Still…"

"I believe you also said you wanted an escape?" he added. 

"I did, didn't I?" she whispered, her eyes drawn back to staring at him again and taking a deep breath. She wasn't sure what to do. She'd never kissed anyone before.

"It could be a nice one," he said, his breath tickling her skin with how close he was, and she hummed. 

"How nice?" she breathed out, focused intently on his eyes. 

“I could show you,” he told her. 

They were moments away from kissing, from their lips finally touching, when there was a loud boom. 

They jumped apart, Sophie spinning towards the source of the sound to see bright, sparkling fireworks exploding in the sky above them. More shot off and filled the sky with temporary light. 

"I see we are towards the end of the night now," the gentleman said, and Sophie's head snapped towards him.

"What time is it?" she asked.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pocket watch. "Half past eleven."

Her breath stuttered as she realized she'd been here longer than she'd planned. She was supposed to leave half an hour ago, and now she most certainly needed to get out of here before Araminta and Rosamund left. The party was supposed to end after midnight, and she was undoubtedly pushing it with getting back to Penwood Park in time.

"I need to go," she blurted out, grabbing her mask and tying it back over her face as quickly as she could.

"Pardon?" the gentleman stared at her. 

"I'm sorry, but I have to leave. Thank you. Thank you for this, really, but I must go," she blurted out, heading towards the door.

"Wait! Where are you going?" the gentleman yelled out after her, but she couldn't stop. 

Moving as quickly as she could, Sophie was panting by the time she made it to the ballroom again. She gently pushed her way through the crowd, apologizing as she jostled and elbowed some guests out of her way. Unbeknownst to her, the gentleman had followed, trying to catch up with her, but the crowd blocked him. Debutants who had not secured a match during the season fluttered around him when they spotted him entering the room.

She finally made it back outside into the cool evening air. The Penwood carriage was waiting at the front for a quick escape. Rushing towards it, she grabbed the door and jerked it open.

“Where have you been?” John, the driver, demanded as she pulled herself quickly into the carriage.

She ignored him. “Go, just go!” she yelled and practically threw herself into the carriage as it started off. Her heart raced, beating erratically in her chest as they galloped away. Leaving Aubrey Hall behind them. 

It wasn't until she was back at Penwood Park, safely tucked in bed, with the gown and mask stuffed underneath and hidden from view until Miss Gibbons could collect it in the morning, that she realized she'd never asked for the gentleman’s name. 

<+>

A week after attending the masquerade at Audrey Hall, Sophie found herself sitting on one of the lilac settees in Penwood Park's parlor, with Anthony Bridgerton sitting across from her on the matching one. 

The earl had returned from London and, the morning after he arrived, informed her the viscount would be coming that afternoon to meet her for the first time. 

It left Sophie very little time to prepare.

“He’ll be here before noon,” the earl told her, before moving on down the hall and into his office. 

The arrival of the viscount has also finally dragged Sophie out of the clouds she'd spent the last few days dallying in.

She'd spent the whole week as though she were floating. Faux-waltzing through Penwood Park when no one was looking and humming to herself the music she had danced to that night. It was silly, pinning away for a man she'd never see again. A man she could never be with. A man whose name she'd never learned. 

And now she found herself awkwardly sitting across from the viscount, her intended husband, unsure what to say. 

Oddly enough, there was something familiar about him.

Anthony Bridgerton was handsome, very handsome in a severe way, and he was also young, thankfully. But his serious nature, added with his youth, made him look like he was carved from marble. Only a decade separated them in age, which Sophie found herself grateful for. 

While the viscount was young and attractive, he also stoic and closed off, his stare a constant serious one even when he was relaxing, which reminded her of her father (although he was much colder of an individual than the viscount appeared to be).

Formal and polite as well, the viscount had kissed her hand and bowed when they were introduced, but Sophie noticed he had given her a once over before nodding to himself. Assessing whether or not she would do. 

From what she observed, Sophie believed he found her good enough. She tried to swallow the lump of anxiety that formed in her throat as he watched her. Unsure how to continue.

The entire interaction was awfully intimidating. 

He was intimidating. 

"How are you, Miss Beckett?" he asked.

Sophie blinked, jolted out of her thoughts and back to the present conversation at hand. "Well, my lord, and you?" 

"Well enough," he informed her, leaning forward to place his cup on the saucer sitting on the table between them. "My apologies for not coming to visit you earlier. I had not been made aware you did not know of this agreement till now. It may have made this easier."

"It's quite alright, my lord," she replied. "The Earl informed me you are quite busy."

"Yes, my family and duties have kept me that way, I'm afraid," he added.

She nodded. "I was told you have seven siblings?" she asked. If there was ever a time to try and get more information about him, now would it.

"Yes, three brothers and four sisters. The household can get rather chaotic when all eight of us are together," he answered. Sophie opened her mouth to inquire further into what they were all like, but Lord Bridgerton had already moved on in the conversation. "Your guardian informs me you speak three languages."

She swallowed. "French, Latin, and Greek." 

"And your interests? What do you like doing?" 

Sophie froze, trying to remember what her interests were again, but her mind had gone blank. She had interests, multiple ones, in fact. It was the only way she could pass the time when she'd spent her whole life living alone in Penwood Park, but they had all been wiped clean from her memory. 

"Reading," she finally said slowly. "And embroidery."

And immediately realized that was the stupidest answer she could have possibly given.

"I’ve also always enjoyed mathematics," she added quickly. 

Lord Bridgerton only nodded, seemingly unaware of her growing mortification and discomfort. "And how many children do you want?"

She blinked. “Pardon?”

That was a rather direct question. 

“How many children do you wish for?” he repeated, unfazed.

"Well…I suppose I would like a few children. Three or four, maybe," she smiled as she thought it over. "Boys, but hopefully, at least one girl." 

"And you've spent your life living in the country, correct?"

"Yes."

"And do you enjoy it?"

"Yes," which was not entirely true, but not wholly a lie. She didn't know anything but living in the country. "But I have always wished to see London." 

One of his dark brows rose. "You've never been?"

"I've never had a reason to visit," she quickly supplied. 

Lord Bridgerton reached for his cup of tea again, taking another sip. "I'm certain I can find one. Give you an excuse. My family does wish to meet you, and London may be the easier place to do so. They are all very excited to meet you."

The fabric of her dress seemed to be slowly suffocating her as Lord Bridgerton's family was brought up, constricting her like a snake would a mouse. The prospects of meeting the viscounts family, the family she'd heard was not happy about this arrangement, would be an endeavor. 

But the viscount was just trying to be kind to her by inviting her to London, it did not appear as though he was actively trying to insult her or be cruel. He was giving her an opportunity her father had never given or allowed her. 

Maybe he did not know how his family truly felt about their engagement. 

"Might I ask you something?" 

Lord Bridgerton nodded. "Of course."

Chewing her lip, Sophie hesitated for a moment. The last thing she wished for right now was to accidentally insult him. 

"Do you truly wish to go through with this engagement?" she finally asked.

Lord Bridgerton frowned, not in anger but confusion. His head tilted to the side slightly, studying her. Intrigued. "What do you mean?"

"This arrangement was made by his lordship and your father. I only wish to confirm that this is something you want?" she asked. 

"Is this something you want, Miss Beckett?" he returned instead. 

No , she thought but did not say aloud. "I know of my responsibilities, Lord Bridgerton. I know what is expected of me,” she told him.

"And I have my responsibilities as well, Miss Beckett. I hope you will understand that. But you will have your freedoms, I'll make sure of that. You may do whatever makes you comfortable and happy," Lord Bridgerton said. 

As blunt as it was, at least he was honest. Lord Bridgerton's honesty, she supposed, was also a kindness. And Sophie knew, if married (and married to viscount no less), she would be given quite the freedom. 

Sophie wondered if the stoicness – the coldness – she felt from the viscount was nothing more than a mask, concealing someone who felt far more than they were letting on. Yes, he was cold and distant, but not cruel or rude. He just seemed uninterested in connecting with her past a formal relationship for some reason. 

At least he seemed to like her. 

"Then I suppose we are engaged…or still set to be engaged? I'm not really sure what to call this since we will not marry till next year," she told him awkwardly.

Lord Bridgerton smirked, a very small one. "I believe our situation still matches the definition of engaged, Miss Beckett." 

Ah, so, she was officially engaged now. 

"Then please, call me Sophie. I believe we are allowed to drop the formalities now," she told him, before realizing what she had said and hastily adding. "Only if that is okay with you!" 

"Anthony is fine," he told her, still smirking and obviously amused by her flustered state. 

She nodded, smiling. "Well, I am glad we were finally able to meet, Anthony." 

"As am I, Miss Sophie," he replied. 

He did not seem to despise her, and while agreeing to the betrothal for apparently the same reason she was, he did not seem to blame her for it. There did not appear to be any emotional attachment in his decision to go through with this. He was accepting of the arrangement as if it were just another task on a checklist for him to fulfill and nothing more. 

It was not a love match. Sophie had suspected (known really) that it would not be from the beginning, but Lord Bridgerton did not seem uncaring or dismissive. Cold and distant like her father. Maybe, she hoped, they would at least get along. That they were able to be friendly and cordial with one another, more so then her father was with Araminta. 

"I will go speak with your guardian to finalize the arrangement now that we have met. And I'll see if I can convince him to allow you to visit us in London sometime soon," Anthony told her, standing from the settee.

Sophie rose with him, nodding. "Thank you."

"If you ever need anything, you are more than welcome to write," he added. 

They said their goodbyes, and Anthony went off to find her father while Sophie quietly headed back upstairs. She made it to the top step before being snatched up by Posy and dragged into her stepsister’s room so she could tell her everything that had just happened. 

That evening, she was called to her father's study, where she was informed the engagement details had been finalized and would be reviewed again before the wedding. To her surprise, he'd even agreed to allow her to visit London in the coming months. The plan would be to announce the engagement in London next April before traveling to Audrey Hall and holding the wedding in Kent. 

With less than a year before she would be a married woman, Sophie found herself having to force herself to accept what was happening. 

Lady Bridgerton, the dowager viscountess and Anthony’s mother, did send word once or twice to meet for tea. But Araminta refused to let her visit, writing letters back on her behalf expressing her apologies that Sophie could not visit for whatever reason she made up but stated she'd be more than welcome to visit with Rosamund instead. 

Those letters received a polite cancellation due to a sudden family matter. 

Each. Time.

But it was Araminta’s final and only remaining way to control Sophie's life before she married, and the only way her stepmother had to take out her anger over the betrothal. It didn't help that the earl declined any invitation where he would be forced to share a room with her for longer than a few seconds. With how he was acting, Sophie assumed he would make up a last-minute excuse to not attend the wedding. 

The months slowly dragged on, which Sophie spent anxious over her impending marriage, and dreaming of the lingering moments she'd had on the Audrey Hall patio with the unnamed gentleman, until March arrived. She prepared all of her items for the trip she would take to Aubrey Hall at the end of the month when the unimaginable happened. 

One morning as her father wandered out to the gardens for his regular morning walk, he collapsed. A physician was called for immediately and declared it to be apoplexy. For a few days, it was touch and go over whether he would survive, and it was expected he would be dead soon. The physician had even told Araminta the matter was ‘in God’s hands.’ The whole house was on edge and waiting, with her father’s heir arriving as a precaution along with the solicitor who held the other copy of the will, but as suddenly as he had collapsed, the earl woke up. 

He was weak, but alert and conscious again. He spent almost two months in bed recovering, sleeping most of the time. The left side of his body was practically paralyzed, making his movements difficult. He had to relearn how to walk, and his speech was now slurred at times. Sophie had tended to him, staying by his bedside through most of it, and following every instruction the doctor had given them in helping him recover. It was the most time they’d ever spent together.

But by the end of the summer, it was confirmed her father would have to rely on a cane for the remainder of his life.

Araminta had taken the opportunity to delay the wedding, writing and expressing to the Bridgertons how much the earl wished to be at Sophie's wedding and begging them to wait until he recovered, which they agreed to immediately. On one hand, Sophie was almost grateful for her stepmother's actions but, on the other hand, knew she was now back to square one. Waiting in limbo for the inevitable. 

The earl had been surprised to see Sophie still at Penwood Park after he’d awoken, assuming she had already been sent to Aubrey Hall and married, which was when he was informed of the delay created by his wife. 

He'd been furious, but by then, it was late June. 

And the Bridgertons had also become busier towards the end of the summer; the youngest son was off to Eton, the third son had left England to travel, the second daughter was preparing for her debut the following year, and the eldest daughter had married a duke during the season and was now pregnant. Lady Bridgerton had found it easier to wait till the next season to make it so the whole family could be present since it was the eldest son's wedding. The earl was forced to allow the delay, which didn't help Sophie feel any less of a burden than she already knew she was. 

And she was stuck waiting another year.

Prior to the start of the next season, her father received notice from an old associate. A Mary Sheffield Sharma. The wife of his previous solicitor, Miles Sharma, who’d left for India a few years before Sophie arrived at her father’s doorstep. Mary had written to him asking for assistance. She had two daughters old enough to debut but no place to stay in London and not much income to give them a full season. She’d only asked for guidance in properties she would be able to afford, but for some reason Sophie’s father offered to host them himself. In exchange for the housing, Mary would play chaperone to not just her daughters but to Sophie as well, only until Sophie was handed off to the Bridgertons and married. 

A win-win for both parties. 

The Sharma daughters were both older than Sophie. The elder daughter, Kate, was two and twenty, only a year younger than Rosamund, and the younger daughter, Edwina, was ten and eight, a year older then both Posy and Sophie. The family was expected to arrive in London from India in February, after Sophie and her relatives arrived at Penwood House to open it for the spring and summer months. 

Araminta was not happy about them staying at Penwood House during her daughter’s season. Sophie’s stepmother had no interest in associating with the likes of Mary Sheffield Sharma, who Sophie found out had been the diamond during her season. A lady of status with a list of eligible matches to marry, who instead ran off to India with a common worker, who not only had already married and been widowed, but who also had had a child from his first marriage. 

The story only made Sophie like Mrs. Sharma even more. 

And Sophie also had noticed the perturbed look her father got as Araminta had ranted about the lack of standing his former solicitor had. He reminded her, quite impassively but with enough edge to his tone, that Miles had been rather good at his job and he would prefer her not to speak ill of the dead. 

Essentially, he told her to shut the hell up. 

Something he rarely did.

But still, Sophie’s anxieties got the best of her leading up to the Sharmas arrival from India, the fear they would react to her the same way Araminta and Rosamund had filled her brain with assumptions of what they might be like (even though she tried not to), but instead they were the opposite. 

They were actually kind to her. 

The three Sharma ladies took one look at her and all smiled, happily introducing themselves and thanking the earl for allowing them to stay at Penwood Park for the season. 

And as days turned to weeks, the Sharmas seemed to prefer her company over Araminta’s or Rosamund’s. Edwina and Posy found themselves to have many common interests and quickly became friends, and while, even with the age gap and opposite personalities, Sophie and Kate got along well. The four of them happily chatted in the parlor together and joined Posy and Sophie when they went deeper into the city to shop.

And Sophie found Kate’s dog, Newton, to be a rather good barrier against her stepmother. 

Araminta hated dogs, even rotund, sweet, little corgis like Newton who would just lay on the settee panting happily next to his owner. The dog barely even barked, just happily trotted behind his family as they wandered through the estate. Whenever Sophie was in the company of the small dog, Araminta kept her distance. Sure, she would still shoot a verbal barb at her if they were alone, but would not linger in the room to continuously criticize her or demean her. In fact, Newton seemed to make her uncomfortable. 

Sophie found it amusing to watch the older woman shift with discomfort at the sight of Newton, cringing with fear and hissing curses when he came too close to her. 

A corgi. Not a large breed like the hounds or pointers her father had in the country for hunting, but a small, fat corgi. 

It was laughable really. And while Sophie found it funny, Kate Sharma seemed to relish in it.

Kate did not like Sophie’s steprealitves (minus Posy). She had made eye contact with Araminta and Rosamund – once – during their first meeting and she had garnered enough information about the pair to know they were individuals one showed only formal politeness to. Nothing more.

And while Kate never asked her directly, she had noticed the way Sophie was treated by the earl and his family. Cold distance from her guardian and open hostility from the man’s wife.

Making Kate happy to allow Sophie to walk Newton in the mornings while she snuck off for a quick morning ride. Sophie typically did those walks with her father, as uncomfortable as that could be given his preference they not be seen together. 

February became March which slowly turned into April and once it had, the earl sent word to the Bridgertons, who had just arrived in London from Kent, regarding the plans to move forward with the engagement. 

“I do not envy you Sophie,” Kate told her as they lounged in her room together. Newton rested his head on her lap as she sat on the chaise, petting him. 

Sophie was going through all her gowns and items that were to be packed and sent with her to Aubrey Hall. She spared a glance over her shoulder towards her new friend as she fluttered about the room, making sure everything was in order for the maids to pack. 

“Thank you, I suppose,” she returned slowly, jokingly, giving her friend a faux-quizzical look. 

“I mean…it does not seem fair for you to have to do this. This arranged marriage,” Kate said. “Rosamund and Posy are allowed seasons, yet they are the earl’s stepchildren. Should you not have been given an opportunity to find a match yourself?”

Sophie wished she could explain why. And the Sharmas, she knew, suspected. Kate did, and Sophie suspected Mary did as well. The matching blonde hair and green eyes, the nose and chin she shared with her father, could give it away almost immediately, so much so it was too much of a risk for her to be in close proximity to her father in public. 

“I have a five thousand pound dowry,” she told her new friend simply as she folded the new gowns she’d gotten for her engagement period, gently placing each one on top of another in a small stack. “I doubt many men would look twice towards me.”

“The earl put ten thousand down himself for your betrothal?” Kate reminded her. 

“Which only further proves my point,” she returned. “Besides, I thought you were uninterested in all this marriage mart work?” 

“I have no interest in dealing with any of the men in this city,” Kate replied, dismissively.

“Yet you wish Edwina to marry?”

“I want her to be happy, and, besides, it’s what she wants. I might have no interest in them, but I am going to make sure only the best of them marry my sister.” 

“She seems rather interested in Mr. Bagwell,” Sophie supplied. 

And Bagwell appeared to be a good enough match for Edwina in Kate’s mind. The two had met before the season had even started and Mr. Bagwell had since begun courting Edwina. Academic and charming, he’d spent almost an entire morning conversing solely with Edwina over different literature they had both read. And Edwina appeared equally happy in his company. Kate was still hesitant, but watched the two intently when they were together and had yet to find a fault in her sister's suitor. 

“Who is this Anthony Bridgerton that you're marrying, anyway? Have you met him?” Kate questioned. 

“Once.”

Kate blinked at her, thinking she’d misheard, before she sat up quickly. “Once?”

“We met two years ago,” Sophie told her with a shrug. “He seemed nice enough.”

“He seemed…he seemed nice enough?” Kate repeated slowly to herself in shock and disbelief, trying to wrap her head around the new information she was receiving. “Sophie. You are marrying this man!”

Sophie nodded, continuing in her folding. “I know.”

“And you barely know anything about him?”

“I know a few things. I’m meeting him again tonight, Kate. And his family.”

The earl had headed off to the Bridgertons’ home that morning. He had made up a story about tenants and ledgers he had to take care of immediately at Penwood Park, so he could hand her over to her new family without issue and without being present. 

“I should be coming with you,” Kate said. “His lordship should not be shipping you off to them like you're a prized mare.”

More like a burdensome toad, Sophie thought to herself. 

“I’ll be fine,” she assured her. 

But Kate wasn’t listening. Rising from her seat as she spoke and disturbing Newton from his peaceful snooze as she did. “I’ll go speak to Mary. See if I can convince her to let me come with you,” she told her. 

“Kate, really, there is no need-” Sophie started, but her friend had already slipped out of the room.

She sighed, glancing towards Newton, who had perked up and was watching her from where he lay. Waiting, most likely, for her to come over and pet him.

Not wishing to disappoint, Sophie made her way over to him to give him a quick scratch on the head before returning to her folding. There wasn't much else she could do as she waited for her father to return.

Chapter Text

There had been a time Anthony Bridgerton was bothered by the betrothal his father had arranged for him.

"You're marrying me off to a seven-year-old?" he'd remembered angrily remarking to his father in his upset.

"Well, obviously you won’t marry her now, Anthony. Maybe next year. When she's eight," his father had joked, trying to make light of the situation.

The discomfort on his father's face as he had informed him of the matter had made it clear to Anthony that he had not made the match willingly. 

But his father had still betrothed him to a girl ten years younger than him. A girl who had most likely had been sitting in her guardian's estate hosting tea parties for her teddy bears while his father was telling him of the match. Who wouldn't be upset? But now, years after his father's death, Anthony found himself rather grateful for it. 

He would not need to waste his time seeking a wife. And his father had at least arranged a suitable one for him. 

From the conversation they'd had when they'd first met, he'd found Miss Sophia Maria Beckett (she preferred to be called 'Sophie') all that he needed in a wife; tolerable, dutiful, having suitable hips to bear children, and also intelligent. Sophie spoke three languages fluently and was apparently a wonder with mathematics from what the housekeeper had happily told him as she led him to the earl's study. She was also beautiful with round, doll-like, mossy green eyes and honey-blonde curls for hair. Her character was quiet and kind, a little anxious at times, and she was someone who hoped to be a mother.  

If he was honest, he had assumed her to be sheltered, maybe even a little dim. She'd never gone further than Kent in her life. Never made any formal appearance at anyone's events (even though everyone who knew the earl had taken her in). She was a somewhat mysterious figure to those who knew of her. 

It had been let slip to the ton by the earl's mother, the dowager countess, before her death. Sophie's mother had died tragically in childbirth. Her father of illness when she was three. Her parents were distant cousins of the Gunningworth family, the descendants of a second son somewhere on the family tree but nonetheless cousins. There was no one else in Sophie's immediate family to take the young girl in. The earl was her only living relative. She'd have been sent to a poorhouse if he hadn't accepted guardianship.

Regardless of her ward status, she was raised with the same education as other ladies', the same education Anthony’s sisters had. She also had a dowry. Initially, it had been five thousand pounds, but the earl had added another ten to solidify the engagement, given she was marrying above her station. Anthony had no doubt they would get along fine, even if it wasn’t a love match. Anthony found her more than capable of running a household as a viscountess.

A small part of him still felt terrible for her. 

She was young, naive, and bright-eyed, the same age as Daphne, but Anthony had felt nothing when he saw her, no spark or intrigue. No desire. And he knew it was the same from her.

She was a young lady who wished to marry for love was now being shackled to him instead, even if he knew it was only for a few years. Once he was dead and gone, she could remarry, hopefully, this time for love, and be truly happy. In the meantime, he would treat her well and ensure she was given her freedom in their marriage. Make her as comfortable as he could. 

They'd been expected to marry the previous year. His mother had been prepared to plan two weddings with Daphne debuting the same year, but only planned one in the end. 

The Earl of Penwood had suffered a sudden health scare before the season's start, nearly dying from apoplexy. He'd collapsed one morning and lingered at death's door for days before making an almost spontaneous recovery. During that time, his wife had requested a delay in the wedding to allow him enough time to recover before they proceeded.

A year had passed, and the earl had sent word they could continue with the arrangement. 

He expected them to. 

The plan was to marry after his mother's yearly Hearts and Flowers Ball, granting the two a short, public engagement period and time to get to know each other better. Their engagement would be announced at Lady Danbury's opening season ball, after which Miss Beckett was expected to travel with her guardian to Audrey Hall. 

That had been the initial plan. They would meet there, where she would then officially meet his family, they would attend the ball together, and after everyone had left, they would hold the wedding ceremony, and all would be as it should be.

"My lord, the Earl of Penwood, is here," his steward, Nelson, told him as he was returning inside from his morning ride. 

Nelson informed him the earl was waiting in the foyer, which is where Anthony found the older gentleman conversing politely with his mother. Since his near-death the year prior, Richard Gunningworth had been forced to rely on a cane, favoring the right side of his body. His body listed to the side somewhat as stood up right, all his weight put on the side holding the cane.

"Lord Penwood, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Anthony announced as he approached, nodding politely toward the earl. 

"Lord Bridgerton, you look well," Richard returned, nodding to him. His speech was slow at times, as if he was intoxicated, but still understandable, which was a miracle, frankly. "My apologies for calling unexpectedly, but I had a request to make."

"Is everything alright, my lord?" Violet asked.

Lord Penwood nodded. "I know it is late to ask, but matters have come up at Penwood Park that I need to attend to immediately. Matters involving my tenants. I plan to leave London as soon as possible, but I fear these issues will take up far too much of my time in the coming days. Time I will need to escort Miss Beckett to Audrey Hall."

"Is your wife not traveling with you?" Violet asked.

The earl stiffened ever so slightly as though the mention of his wife had just been reminded of an annoyance he wished to forget. "Lady Penwood wishes to give her daughters more time with the season. She apologizes for the late notice of her absence but promises to still be in attendance at your summer ball."

When the rest of the ton arrives in Kent. Anthony assumed the countess would be excited to finally plan a wedding, like most ladies, but it appeared she was more invested in her daughters than her husband's ward. 

If Anthony remembered correctly, the Reiling girls were on their fifth and second seasons, respectively. The two girls appeared to be polar opposite in appearance and personality, and neither had been successful in finding a match so far. 

Anthony knew some of the eligible, marriage-seeking men would be attending his mother's ball. The wealthier, single ones who could leave for the country briefly.

The better matches, as some would say. 

"So, you will need an escort for Miss Beckett?" Anthony said.

Richard nodded. "I apologize for the inconvenience this may cause. I know we had an agreement on how-"

"Not at all," his mother quickly assured, smiling politely. "We'd be delighted to escort her. It will give us all the opportunity to get to know her earlier. I know everyone has been very excited to meet Miss Beckett."

Excited was an understatement. His siblings had been a mixture of dread, awkwardness, and discomfort regarding his intended. They mainly wanted to meet Miss Beckett to figure out who she was and to finally be proven in whether or not they should like her, even though he had repeatedly informed them they would. He'd put up with more than ten years of unnecessary remarks from them since they'd all found out. 

"I will have a room prepared for her immediately," his mother added cheerfully. "When should we be expecting her?"

"I was on my way back to Penwood House to gather my items. I will return around noon with Miss Beckett before I depart," he informed them. "I've also been hosting an old friend's family recently, the Sharmas. They've offered to assist in escorting and chaperoning Sophia. They'll most likely meet you with you at the ball tonight." 

"Sounds like a fine plan," his mother said. "We shall see you then." 

Lord Penwood nodded, shaking hands with Anthony, and politely bowing to Violet (a stiff, shaky one he'd struggled to accomplish) before giving his goodbyes and departing from the home. 

"Well, it appears we will finally be seeing you marry," his mother remarked once the earl was gone, her tone pleasant enough, but Anthony was well aware of her intentions. 

Anthony hummed. "I suppose so."

Continuing towards the drawing room, his mother quickly stopped to inform one of the maids to prepare a guest room before catching up with him, back on her pursuit to discuss the engagement with him.

"And we should let the others know we will be having company," she added. 

Anthony hummed again, saying nothing, which only caused his mother to frown. 

"Anthony…" she started, and he took a deep breath, turning to face his mother as she took one of his hands. "You are certain you wish to go forward with this?"

“It’s not as if I have a choice, mother,” he replied with a sigh.

“I know, I know,” his mother said. “I just-“

"It spares me from the torment of navigating this insufferable marriage mart," he told her. 

His mother sighed. "Anthony…"

Of all his relatives, his mother was the most against the betrothal. Had been since the beginning, and she'd argued with his father over the matter for days. It was probably one of the worst of the few rows he'd ever watched his parents have. She'd almost gone to Penwood Park herself to call off the arrangement (not that Anthony would have stopped her at the time), but the assurance of her husband that he would not force any of the others into arranged marriages and that his hands were tied on the matter stopped her. The Earl of Penwood apparently had something on his father, enough to make him agree to marry off his firstborn son, and for a viscount to go against an earl would cause a ripple effect in his families' standing that would stay with them for years. His mother had been forced to back off, but that did not mean she was happy about it.

"I had always wished for you to marry for love," she told him. "It is not fair that your siblings have an opportunity you do not." 

"I am fulfilling my duties, mother. Of which I have no issue with doing. And you have no need to worry about Miss Beckett. She's a fine young woman. More than capable of running this house, and I am certain you will see that too. Father chose well," he assured her.

One of his mother's dark brows arched up as she gave him a look. "Your father did not choose this match," she reminded him. 

"Well, he was handed a rather good one then," Anthony reaffirmed. 

His mother sighed, knowing this conversation was going nowhere. "I have no doubts Miss Beckett will be a fine wife. I would have liked to have at least been able to meet with her before now."

Sophie had seemingly used every excuse, from illness to injury to existing plans to avoid meeting with his mother. Something Anthony had found odd. The countess apparently was more than welcome to come in her place, which both he and his mother knew was for the sole purpose of shoving her daughters at his brothers in the hope of a match being formed. Still, for every excuse, Sophie had to decline; his mother had a hundred more ready for the countess. 

"You had every chance to visit her," he reminded her. While his mother had always invited Sophie to Aubrey Hall, she never asked to visit Penwood Park. 

"And be forced into a room to converse with Araminta Gunningworth?" his mother replied, a look of disgust crossing her face as she shook her head. "I'd rather endure a ducking stool." 

The corner of Anthony's mouth curved up as he smirked. 

His mother smiled back as she silently rubbed her thumb over his knuckles. "I just want you to be happy, Anthony," she told him, staring down at his hand as she spoke.

No answer he could make would make the situation better. And he did not want to discuss it further. He was tired of talking about it. Anthony gently pulled his hand out of her grasp as she sighed again.

Entering the drawing room, his siblings were scattered around the room, chatting, and lounging about. Francesca was playing on the pianoforte, working on improving her skills, while Colin was telling Hyacinth and Gregory to stop bickering. Eloise, as usual, was giving a sparing comment to them in an attempt to help Colin even though she was more focused on reading.

"Miss Beckett will be coming to visit," his mother happily announced. 

The music stopped mid-note. His siblings all looked up at her in mutual surprise, brows raised and eyes wide as they heard the news.  

"She'll be here at noon," Anthony added, expressionless.

"Ah yes, the fiancée," Eloise finally said teasingly, a sly smile crossing her face as she looked up from the book she was reading. "Shall we finally be meeting your mysterious betrothal, brother?" 

"Finally," Colin commented. "Took long enough."

“She certainly took her time,” Gregory added, wanting to join in with his older siblings.

"I do hope you will not be making these kinds of remarks when Miss Beckett arrives," his mother told them sternly. 

Colin held his hands up in surrender. "I'm only pointing out that she never once visited."

"I hope she's nice," Hyacinth remarked aloud to no one in particular. 

"I'm certain she will be," his mother assured, turning from scolding Colin to smile at her.

Counting off the siblings in the room as they began chattering amongst themselves, Anthony noticed they were one short, besides Daphne, who was in Clyvedon with her husband and son. 

"Where's Benedict?" Anthony asked, noting he was absent.

"In the library," Gregory replied. 

Most likely, doodling was Anthony's guess. Benedict had been distant as of late, coming in and out of their home throughout the day, barely saying a word to any of them as he did. Anthony had assumed it was due to his suddenly invested interest in his artistic talents.

It was either that or the alleged 'Lady in Silver' he'd been looking for.

"I can assume you will all be on your best behavior?" he asked his siblings, assuming the opposite. 

"Absolutely," Eloise mockingly informed him.  

He tried to not roll his eyes. Taking a deep breath instead. “Will you all be present when she arrives?” he asked, knowing the answer.

Immediately, he was given a list of reasons for why his siblings could not assist him and his mother in being present for Sophie’s arrival, from working on Latin assignments to them having other places to be (when Anthony knew otherwise). He would have asked Benedict, but he still had matters of his own to attend to before Sophie arrived and seeking his brother out would take away from the time that he had.

So, it left him and his mother being the ones to greet Sophie when she arrived. Anthony had been able to only get a few of the time-consuming tasks he had to complete before tonight done before her arrival.

The Gunningworth carriage arrived with her at noon, as the earl had said she would. It was a relatively uneventful affair if Anthony was honest. 

The moment Sophie stepped out of the carriage and her bags were taken off, it left without another word, leaving the poor girl standing alone outside their home with all her possessions; two large trunks and three little bags. The footman assisted her in bringing them inside, leaving her standing awkwardly on the street as they moved around her, looking as though she was unsure whether to help them or not. She did move to take one of the bags off a trunk as they lifted it up, clutching it in her hands like it was her only lifeline. 

She looked terrified, and his mother picked up on it immediately. 

"You must be Miss Beckett," his mother happily announced as she approached the young girl, pulling her into a quick hug, much to Sophie's surprise. "It is such a pleasure to finally get to meet you."

Once they'd pulled apart, Sophie bobbed a quick curtsy. "Thank you, your ladyship." 

"Oh, please, call me Violet," his mother informed her, keeping her hands on Sophie's shoulder, comfortingly. "There won't be any need for the formalities."

"It's good to see you again, Sophie," Anthony remarked, bowing to her.

"As it is to see you, Anthony," Sophie told him.

"How have you been?" he asked.

"Well, thank you," she replied, nodding politely before looking back toward his mother. "I apologize for not being able to come to visit earlier, your ladyship-I mean, Violet."

"Oh, there is no need to worry about that," his mother assured her, linking her arm with hers. "You're here now."

They invited her into the home, bringing her up the front stairs and into the house. The footman brought her bags upstairs to the room his mother had arranged for her to stay in. His mother introduced her to the staff present, Mrs. Wilson and a few maids. 

They brought her into the home, pointing out what was necessary for her to know about helping her run the house. The front foyer was something Anthony had never felt was important enough to point out as his mother gave a brief history of the home. 

"We've had a room prepared for you upstairs. And you do not need to worry about anything while you are staying with us, Miss Beckett," his mother explained. 

"Thank you, your lady-Violet," Sophie corrected herself again quickly as she spoke.

"The earl mentioned you had friends who would be traveling with us. The Sharmas?" his mother asked.

Sophie nodded. "Yes. They wanted to come and introduce themselves before tonight, but Mrs. Sharma was already set to visit Lady Danbury. They are old friends, from what she told me. She and her daughters, Kate and Edwina, will meet us tonight at the ball."

"Sounds lovely," his mother told her. 

"The rest of my siblings are waiting upstairs. I'll show-" he started to explain.

Anthony was suddenly interrupted by a loud crashing noise behind him. Something heavy had fallen down the stairs. At first, he thought it was the footman, believing one of them must have dropped one of Sophie's trunks. But his mother's reaction let him know it was possibly more serious.

She'd jumped from the noise in surprise, looking over her shoulder to see what had happened before she was suddenly moving quickly towards the stairs. Before Anthony could see what had occurred. 

"Goodness," Miss Beckett gasped, wide-eyed, as she stared past Anthony.

Turning quickly, Anthony found no trunk but his brother sitting flat on his arse at the bottom of the grand staircase. The footmen had rushed to his side and were in the midst of helping him back to his feet. It appeared that Benedict had stumbled, slipped, and then fallen straight down the last flight of stairs as he was coming down them. 

"Benedict! Are you alright? Did you hit anything?" his mother questioned, reaching Benedict's side.

"My ego," Benedict grunted out, rubbing his lower back as the footman helped him back to his feet.

"You alright, brother?" Anthony called out.

Benedict nodded back to him as he patted himself down, but Anthony noticed his brother's eyes were trained on Miss Beckett; all while his mother was fluttering around him like a pale blue hummingbird, pushing his hair and checking his skull to see if there were any physical injuries to worry over. His brother stared at Sophie as if he had just seen a ghost.

Anthony turned back to Miss Beckett, still watching the scene in concern. "Since he is now here, I might as well introduce you both."

He extended his arm out to her, which Miss Beckett took, holding his elbow with both hands as he led her over to Benedict. 

"Miss Beckett, if I may introduce my brother, Benedict," he introduced. "Benedict. Miss Sophie Beckett." 

Sophie nodded politely to him. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bridgerton." 

Benedict blinked as if slowly coming back to his senses and back to reality. He cleared his throat, giving her a quick bow. "The pleasure is mine, Miss Beckett."

Anthony would have found his brother's behavior odd, but Benedict's behavior in general lately had just been that. Odd. He'd been distracted. Running around London for the past two years in search of this 'Lady in Silver,' a woman he'd met at one of their mother's balls. A woman he and his siblings, were beginning to doubt even existed. 

And a hopeless endeavor, given Benedict had told him the woman was engaged to another man. A man who, at this point, she had most likely married. 

"Are you sure you did not strike your head on your way down, brother?" he asked.

It set off their mother again, who quickly gave Benedict another once-over. "You're sure you are-?"

"I'm alright, mother," Benedict sighed.

He kept glancing at Sophie in disbelief. As if he couldn't believe she was standing there. Anthony surmised he must have been shocked that she'd finally come to visit. That the wedding was finally happening.

Had his brother not been hiding away all morning, he would have known Miss Beckett was coming. 

"We were just about to take Miss Beckett upstairs to meet everyone," his mother explained.

Benedict glanced towards her, having not heard anything she just said. "Right, yes, of course."

"Headed off somewhere?" Anthony asked.

His brother shook his head. "No, no, I…I thought I left something in the dining room, but I just realized it's still upstairs."

So, he followed them up as they made their way toward the drawing room, where the rest of their siblings were patiently waiting. Benedict watched Sophie with hesitancy the entire time, staying within a foot distance behind her. Sophie did not seem to realize, too busy conversing politely with Violet to notice he was watching her. 

No longer lounging around the room lazily, all of their siblings were sitting upright in their seats. The definition of prim and proper. All looking to be prepared to give the best behavior possible.

Anthony was on to them immediately. 

Francesca and Hyacinth were the first to greet Sophie, both already on their feet and approaching them as they entered (Hyacinth faster than Francesca). Colin, Gregory, and Eloise stayed back, watching Sophie intently as the introductions were made. All politely nodding to her when their mother pointed them out. Anthony had thought Benedict would enter the room behind him, but looking back, he noticed he'd disappeared.

Again. 

Anthony sighed, shaking his head, knowing he'd have to speak to his brother about this later, before returning his attention to the room.

"What are you planning to wear tonight?" Francesca asked.

"Oh, I don't really know yet. I'll have to look at what I brought," Sophie answered.

 "We can help you!" Hyacinth stated. "Eloise never lets us help her when she's getting ready." 

Eloise rolled her eyes and made a face at the back of Hyacinth's head, annoyed at being reminded she was attending tonight's ball, given her recent debut, before returning to her book without saying a word. 

“Oh, sure. I suppose that should be fine,” Sophie anxiously replied, which excited both of his sisters.

After being dragged over to the settee by Francesca and Hyacinth, Sophie sat between them as they began rapidly interrogating her. Asking her multiple questions at a time. They wanted to know about her interests and about her life at Penwood Park. Did she prefer the country or London? Did she like horseback riding? Had she read the recent novel by A Lady? Speaking of reading, had she been reading Lady Whistledown? Did they even get Whistledown out in Kent? 

All the questioning left Sophie looking increasingly flustered, a nervous pink blush spreading over her nose and cheeks as she tried to keep up with them, answering the questions to the best of her ability.

“Girls, please. The least you can do is let Miss Beckett breath if you’re going to be asking her all these questions,” Violet voiced them calmly, noticing the state it was causing Sophie.

Francesca took it as a sign to reduce her questioning, turning more to complimenting Sophie and telling her about her time at Bath. Hyacinth was a different matter, calming briefly before slowly returning to the rapid fire questioning she’d been doing before.

“Hyacinth, why don’t you show Miss Beckett around?” Anthony suggested. He’d prefer not to himself, given the discomfort he’d noticed Sophie appeared to be in when he was around, and it seemed like an idea that would keep his youngest sister busy until it was time for the rest of them to prepare for the ball.

Hyacinth jumped at the chance, taking Sophie from the room before anyone could stop her (or remind her to slow down), with Francesca following. Sophie was practically dragged out of the room, stumbling a little, but he got her away from the side-eye and judgmental looks Colin and Eloise kept giving her.

“I hope both of you will be kind and welcoming to Miss Beckett,” their mother commented once Sophie was gone, before Anthony had the chance to point it out.

“We will, mother,” Colin quickly replied.

“She seems…alright,” Gregory added.

Anthony decided to take that as a good sign. Hopefully, his skeptical siblings would warm up to Sophie.

He excused himself quickly. With Sophie being shown around by Hyacinth and Francesca, and most likely kept busy until they departed for the ball, he had a chance to get through more of the ledgers and lease agreements he had yet to. Ones which needed to sign as soon as possible.

Stepping out of the drawing room, Anthony noticed a figure moving down the hall.

“Benedict,” he called out, realizing it was his brother.

His brother stopped, turning back to face him. He’d been headed in the direction of the stairs.

“Everything alright?” Anthony added, noticing the alarm on his brother’s face as he approached him.

Benedict nodded, rather aggressively, glancing behind Anthony towards the drawing room’s doorway. “Of course.”

“Headed out? You know we have-“ Anthony started.

“Lady Danbury’s ball. I know. I’ll be back in time, I promise,” Benedict hastily responded, seeming to want this conversation to end so he could leave.

Anthony frowned, noticing the agitated state he was in. “You’re sure you’re alright?”

“Of course,” Benedict repeated. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Something was off. There was something Benedict wasn’t telling him. And Anthony did not have the time currently to deal with that as well.

But Benedict was his brother, and the one who had been the most supportive of the betrothal. Not just the betrothal, but in general. The least he could do was return the favor.

He opened his mouth to ask again, this time with the intention of not allowing his brother to leave until he told him what was going on.

“I’m fine, brother,” Benedict told him before he had a chance, clapping him in the shoulder and giving him the famous ‘Bridgerton smile’ he was most known for. A smile Anthony knew was not true. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Good. I’m certain I can trust you to help make Miss Beckett feel welcomed,” he admitted.

The smile faltered for a second, just a second, but Benedict kept it up.

“I’ll see you tonight,” Benedict repeated, before giving his arm a quick squeeze and heading off towards the stairs and out of Number 5.

Chapter Text

Benedict was confident he was madder than his majesty King George right now. 

She was here, the Lady in Silver. The woman he had spent the last two years hopelessly and desperately searching for was standing in the Bridgerton House's foyer.

And engaged to his brother. 

The young woman, who in the span of a few hours one evening years ago, he'd fallen in love with, was also the woman his brother had been betrothed to for the past ten years. She'd even said she was engaged, that she would marry soon, and somehow he hadn't put two and two together.

He had been moments away from walking right out of the house and having himself institutionalized at Bedlam when he had slipped on one of the steps and gone straight down them. Falling flat on his arse at the bottom and badly bruising his ego in the process.

All in front of Miss Beckett. 

Benedict realized he wouldn't be institutionalized as the footman rushed to his aid and helped him back to his feet because he was going to drown himself in the Thames instead. 

But it became apparent, very quickly, after introductions were made, that she did not recognize him. He tried to curb the disappointment building in his stomach as he watched her, seeing no expression of surprise or recognition, only polite timidness. A complete reversal of the excited wonder he'd met that night. Her true self was apparently concealed behind a mask of quiet obedience.

As he searched for her, he'd known it was a fool's errand. She'd told him that night she was to marry another, and at first, he'd been prepared to just indulge her, let her slip through his fingers like sand, and be done with it. But there had been something about her that set something off in him. The way his heart accelerated at the mere sight of her when he first spotted her across the room. For the first time in his life, he'd felt alive just by standing there in her presence. As if he had waited his whole life just to meet her. 

He wanted to find her before she married and figure out some way to be with her because he just couldn't let her go. He needed answers.

And now he had them.

He was fucked. He was truly, eternally, fucked. 

It was taking everything he had not to tell his brother. Or anyone else in his family, for that matter. What would that do if they all knew? He'd practically fled Number 5 for the sole purpose of not having any of his siblings witness him have a breakdown, heading off to Mondrich's so he could keep himself as far away from Sophie Beckett as possible. 

He'd have to return. He'd promised his mother and brother he'd come to Lady Danbury's ball tonight, and he wanted to go as well, mainly to support Eloise given how well she’d been handling her debute, but with Sophie thrown into it, he wasn't sure how he'd get through the evening. 

Three glasses of whiskey at Mondrich's had undoubtedly made it easier to get back to his family's home. He'd quickly inhaled the fourth one as his valet had helped him dress at his lodgings before he walked the two blocks to get to Number 5 again, finding his family waiting for him in the foyer. 

"There you are," his mother smiled, coming towards him to give him a once over. She sniffed the alcohol on him immediately, her nose scrunching up, and her sweet smile shifted to a frown.

"Mother," he gave her a polite kiss on the cheek, planning to not explain himself. Glancing towards the others, he saw only Colin and Anthony were downstairs with them. Ready to depart.

His mother quickly slipped her arm in with his, planning to keep him at her side now that she'd detected the whiskey on his breath. "Eloise and Sophie are almost ready. They should be down soon," she told him. 

He hummed back his response. 

"Should I be concerned about you tonight?" she whispered.

"No, mother," he replied. 

"Is everything alright?" she asked. 

"Yes, mother," he repeated stiffly, not looking at her as he spoke.

From the side of his eye, he saw her frown deepen. She opened her mouth to ask him again, more forcefully, he surmised, but the annoyed stomping of feet alerted them to comiing approach of Eloise as she descended down the stairs. Huffing in disdain, pulling, and fiddled with her dress and gloves as she did. She had a look of absolute distaste over having to attend tonight's event on her face, one that generally would have Benedict chuckling.

But, coming down behind her was Sophie. 

And Benedict tried to ignore how his heart skipped a beat as he saw her. 

The muted periwinkle gown of shimmering silk with short cape sleeves did nothing to show off her beauty. She seemed to just continuously radiate even with the cool tones she wore. A simple tiara of silver, with diamonds and amethysts decorating it, rested on top of her head of honey blonde hair, sparkling whenever the gems caught the light. 

As she got towards the final steps, Anthony moved towards her and politely held his hand out for her to take. She quietly grasped it with one of her gloved hands before moving to link her arm with his as they stepped away from the stairs and towards the rest of them. 

Benedict bit the inside of his cheek as he ignored the repeated painful stabs to the gut he felt watching them. 

"Alright, we should get going," his mother told them and that was that. They all left without another word.

Getting to Lady Danbury's ball was relatively easy for him. His mother had decided to have two carriages take them there, meaning Benedict ended up in one with Eloise and Colin while his mother rode with Sophie and Anthony. He had Eloise's moans and Colin teasing her as background noise while he continued mulling over what to do.

With their carriage departing after the one Sophie had been placed in, she had already been helped out by the time Benedict had arrived and was being escorted inside by his brother. By now, his light alcohol created buzz had begun to unfortunately fade.

He kept pace behind them, escorting Eloise while Colin had their mother on his arm. Anthony politely and quietly explained Lady Danbury to Sophie and other potential guests of importance, whom they may meet that night as they headed inside. 

And the moment they did, waltzed right into the ballroom where all the other guests were, eyes were trained on them immediately. The light sounds of the violins was all that could be heard when the chatter appeared to disaperate momentarily, wide eyed and surprised looks from some of the gentlemen. Confused ones from the debutantes and their mothers. The whispers started right after. 

Benedict noticed how Sophie stiffened in front of him. He couldn't see her face, but her back had straightened and tensed as she noticed how many eyes were watching her now, making him assume she was feeling rather anxious. 

Anthony gently patted her arm, leaning over to whisper something in her ear. Most likely an encouraging, supportive word to help her relax. 

"There's Penelope," Eloise pointed out, slipping her arm out of Benedict’s as she quickly escaped. Her goal now to spend the evening with her friend and as far away from the dance floor as possible.

His mother did attempt to stop her as she fled from them, but her fingers barely brushed over Eloise's arm as she moved away from them and manuevered her way through the bodies crowded around them. 

Violet let out a sigh before an alarm expression crossed her features as she glanced around, realizing Colin had also now disappeared. 

"I turn my back for-" she spun around before facing Benedict. Violet let out another sigh as she looked at him. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do with them?"

Benedict smirked. "I'm certain you'll figure out something." 

"I'll go grab you something to drink," Anthony told Sophie, before patting Benedict on the back, leaning close to whisper. “Keep an eye on her for me. Make sure she’s comfortable,” before moving towards the table of clear crystal glasses filled with lemonade a short distance away.

Sophie stayed close to him and his mother after Anthony headed off, glancing around the room nervously. There was a protective urge to wrap his arm around her, bringing her closer, putting himself between her and anyone who even stepped in her direction.

"Excuse me," Sophie quietly said, slipping away from their group. She’d spotted someone.

Benedict watched her approach a group of women, ones he did not recognize. One of the women was even standing behind a pillar, making it difficult for him to determine what she looked like, except that she was wearing a gown of light blue. Of the ones he could see, Benedict surmised they were a mother and daughter. 

"Lady Mary Sheffield Sharma," his mother whispered to him. "That must be her daughter with her. Although Sophie said, there were two. They're Lord Penwood's guests for the season."

"Sheffield. That sounds familiar?" he told her. 

"Lord and Lady Sheffield don't usually make appearances in London anymore," she whispered back. "After Mary ran off to Bombay during her season with a…Miles Sharma, I believe his name was. It was a scandal at the time, given he was previously married, had a child from that marriage, and was just a common solicitor. But, from what I heard, they were in love." 

"Good for her," Benedict remarked.

Violet hummed. "Hmm, yes. I do not believe it would be my place to judge someone for finding their happiness."

"They'll be coming to the wedding?" Benedict assumed.

"They're assisting in chaperoning Sophie in Lord Penwood's absence, so they will actually be joining us at Aubrey Hall before then, but it is no issue," Violet replied. “Sophie spoke very highly of them.”

Sophie was approaching them, most likely coming to introduce the Sharmas, given they were following her. But only two of them approached.

"Lady Violet. Mr. Bridgerton," Sophie nodded to them. "If I may introduce Lady Mary Sharma and her daughter, Edwina Sharma."

"A pleasure," Mary bobbed a quick curtsy, her daughter following suit. "Thank you for allowing us to accompany Sophie."

"Oh, it is no issue. It's wonderful to finally meet," Violet told them, sparing a quick glance around the room. "Is your eldest not in attendance tonight?"

"Apologies, Kate went to get some air quickly," Mary replied. "I'll make sure she introduces herself before the night's end."

"I understand. I have three children also here tonight. Two of which have already fled my sight," Violet joked, smiling. "But here comes one of them."

Anthony was approaching the group, holding only two glasses of lemonade. He handed one to Violet and the other to Sophie. They both thanked him while Benedict gave his brother a mocking look of shock.

"None for me?" he joked, and Anthony rolled his eyes at him. 

"This is my eldest, Anthony. Anthony. This is Lady Mary Sharma and her daughter Edwina," Violet introduced. 

"My lord," Mary and her daughter quickly curtsied again to him.

Anthony gave a polite bow in return. "A pleasure, Lady Sharma." He nodded to Edwina. “Miss Sharma. I hope London has been to your liking.”

“Oh, it’s been wonderful to finally visit,” Edwina told him. 

“It has certainly been nice to return,” Mary added, politely. 

Benedict doubted she truly meant it, but Edwina had. The youngest Sharma had a sweet, excited smile on her face as she spoke. A look of wonder in her kind eyes as she studied the room around them. 

But Benedict’s eyes kept drawing back to Sophie, who was standing on the edge of their group, quietly sipping her lemonade, and listening. She’d barely said anything since they’d arrived. He’d noted how little of her voice he had heard since they’d made introductions with one another earlier that day. Granted, he’d purposaly been gone for most of it.

“Are you excited for the wedding, Lord Bridgerton?” Edwina asked suddenly, with a cheerfull tone. 

Sophie froze mid-sip, eyes shooting up towards Anthony. Benedict hesitantly glanced between the two, feeling his mother’s hand tighten around his arm as she somehow kept her polite smile from faltering. Even Mary shifted uncomfortably in front of them, as aware of the situation as his family was apparently. Something Edwina had not noticed in her sweet naivety. 

Anthony blinked; face still neutral as he processed Edwina’s question. “I’m certain it will be lovely,” he finally answered. 

Edwina’s smile grew. She opened her mouth to ask another question but was interrupted. 

“Miss Sharma?” a man Benedict did not recognize asked. He was young with nice, short, dark hair that curled into small waves and an equally nice smile. He then bowed to Mary. “Lady Sharma.”

“Mr. Bagwell,” Edwina blinked before smiling at the gentleman. “I did not know you would be here tonight.”

Mr. Bagwell's smile grew. “I decided to delay my return back to Cambridgeshire. Might I say you look spectacular tonight.”

Edwina's cheeks went pink. “Oh! Thank you.”

“I wished to ask for your hand for the next dance? If you are free that is,” Mr. Bagwell offered his hand to her.

Edwina spared a glance towards her mother, who smiled and nudged her supportively, motioning for her to accept, before turning back to Mr. Bagwell. 

“Um, of course,” she told him, with a nervous and giddy smile as she took his hand. 

Sophie watched happily as her friend was escorted out onto the ballroom floor. The first smile Benedict had seen on her face since she had arrived. 

He opened his mouth, prepared to ask her to dance even if a tiny part of his brain was screaming at him not to.

“Sophie?” his brother asked, hand out for her to take. He didn’t ask. Didn’t need to. Sophie knew what he meant.

“Oh!” she immediately glanced down at the glass she was holding, unsure what to do with it now that she was being asked to dance.

“Here,” Violet quickly took the glass from her.

With her hands now free, Sophie took Anthony’s and allowed him to pull her gently towards the other guests preparing for the next dance. 

And Benedict's stomach tightened as he watched them move away.

“Excuse me,” he told Violet.

“Where are you going?” she asked him.

“Just to get some air quickly,” he replied, heading towards the door leading onto the patio.

As the string quartet started up again, Benedict found no need to stay and watch what would come next.

<+>

He’d been outside for some time, finding a little crook at the edge of the patio hidden away from sight, as he smoked his third cigarette of the evening, leaned against the carved stone railing wrapped around the home. 

The air had helped focus him, only somewhat as his mind was still caught in a state of perpetual racing, over the petite blonde hanging on his brother’s arm inside the estate behind him. He couldn’t seem to get her out of his head. His mind constantly repeating It’s her. It’s her. It’s her. He desperately wanted to know what higher power he had pissed off enough for them to subject him to this.

“Oh!” a voice said behind him, snapping him from his thoughts.

He spun around to see Sophie standing a short distance away. She must have done the same as him, come outside to get some air, only to stumble across his little hiding place without realizing. 

“Apologies,” she quickly told him, turning to leave.

“Wait!” he called out and she stopped, turning back to look at him with a bewildered look. He cleared his throat, before motioning towards the empty, expansive patio around them. “There is more than enough space for us both.”

She hesitantly glanced around, chewing her bottom lip as she mulled over the idea of staying outside with him. After a moment of silence, she stepped closer to him, appearing to have made her decision. Deciding to stay. 

Quietly, she approached, taking a spot next to him as Benedict quickly stubbed out his cigarette on the stone and threw the burn paper and tobacco remnants into a bush nearby. He didn’t believe Sophie to be the type interested in smoking. 

They stood there both, quietly. Neither one really spoke, not that Benedict knew what to say. He was alone with her, a small part of him still not able to process that she was here as Sophie looked around, completely oblivious to his internal panic. 

“Nice dance?” he finally asked.

She looked towards him before nodding politely. “I’m not very good at it, but it was nice.”

“I’ll assume my brother shared two dances with you?” he guessed. More than two dances would announce to everyone they were engaged. And his mother would have confirmed it to anyone who asked. By now, the whispers would have only grown.

“I did my best to not step on his toes. Too many times,” she replied sheepishly. 

He chuckled. “I’m sure he’ll live.”

She smiled back at him as the silence descended between them again, looking back out at the gardens around Lady Danbury’s estate.

“It’s a beautiful home,” she remarked. 

Benedict hummed, glancing around as well. “Yes, it is.”

“Do you garden, Mr. Bridgerton?” Sophie asked, unexpectedly. 

It did surprise him, her sudden chattiness. He couldn’t tell if she was doing it because she was interested in getting to know him or if it was the discomfort from the awkward silence forcing her to speak.

“No, I’m afraid I’ve never had the talent to keep a plant alive longer than a week,” he answered. 

“Neither have I,” she told him. “I’ve tried once. Roses. Lord Penwood’s gardener had to step in to keep them from becoming nothing but bushes of thorny vines.” 

“I’ve heard roses are difficult to grow in general. And you can call me Benedict. I don’t mind if you drop the formalities,” he informed her.

Sophie nodded, understanding. “Do you have any hobbies…Benedict? Given, gardening does not appear to be either of our fancies.”

“I draw and paint sometimes,” he answered, his mouth speaking before his brain had a chance to think. 

“Oh! You’re an artist?” she perked up, intrigued. 

And immediately, all of Benedict’s confidence fled from him. 

“Well, I don’t know if I would say that,” he informed her, awkwardly stumbling over the words as he found himself nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not very good at it. I mainly just…doodle.” 

Sophie frowned, seeming confused by his sudden reversal. She shrugged. “Well, you’re probably better than I am. I’ve never had the talent for art. I tried watercolors once but everything I tried to make came out a rather spectacular mess of different brown colored blobs. And I only seemed to get increasingly more dirty whenever I tried charcoal sketching. There was more of it on me than there was on the paper in the end.”

“I think that's just charcoal in general,” Benedict jokingly informed her. 

Sophie gave a dramatic sigh. “Much like dancing, and gardening, I’m afraid it's another pass time I’m just terribly dreadful at.”

“There must be something you’re good at?” Benedict said. 

She thought it over, head tilting slightly to the side. Benedict noted how adorable she looked as she chewed her bottom lip, lost in thought. 

“My governess always said my mathmatic skills were better than most. And I am particularly adept with a needle, I suppose. I’ve done repairs or fixed the seams on some of Posy’s dresses. And my own. I’ve found it's easier just to do it myself than bother one of the maids or bring it to a seamstress,” she finally told him. 

“Well, that’s more than me. I never excelled with mathematics. I essentially know what's necessary to handle my accounts, which I assure you I dread doing,” Benedict watched as Sophie giggled at his dramatic tone and he found himself unable to hold back a smile of his own. “I do my very best to manage them, but in the end I always find myself dealing with Anthony correcting it all. And, in all honesty, I would have no idea what to do if you handed me a needle and thread and told me to repair a tear.”

“You could still learn,” Sophie said lightly. 

“We could do a trade. I’ll teach you how to draw and you teach me how to sew?” Benedict suggested.

It wasn’t his intention for his tone to be flirtatious when he spoke, but Sophie picked up on it nonetheless. Her brows shot up in surprise before she frowned, a small crease appearing between her honey rust colored brows. Her defenses were shooting up. The sweet charm she’d initially shown him fading away as they did. 

“I do not believe that would be a good idea,” she informed him politely, noticeably uncomfortable.

“I did not mean it like that-” Benedict started, trying to back track. 

“I think I should head back inside,” Sophie told him tensely, moving to leave. “I realize probably it isn’t a good idea for us to be out here alone.” 

“You’re engaged to my brother-” he began, stepping in front of her as he spoke. 

“Which is exactly why I need to go back,” she interrupted him, a sharper edge to her voice this time. 

Benedict paused, watching her. There was no stopping the feeling of annoyance that he felt building in him, over how she was so willing to stand out here with him, alone, until his remark. 

Something she’d also been more than willing to do two years ago. Opening flirting with him. Enjoying his company.

“I doubt anyone is going to question why you're with me out here,” he returned, his own tone shifting. 

“Mr. Bridgerton, I am still unmarried-” she started. 

“So, I’m Mr. Bridgerton now?” he shot at her. 

Sophie took a deep breath. “ Benedict . I am engaged to your brother and I find it in our best interests that we not be seen alone together now.”

“Or what?”

“Or it will cause a scandal!”

Benedict tried not to roll his eyes. “It won’t.”

“You don’t know that!” Sophie snapped at him. “All it takes is someone seeing us and misunderstanding what is transpiring here and the next thing you know the entire ton—the entire city will be chattering about it.”

“You’re being dramatic,” he told her, dissmissively.

“I’m being realistic,” she was angry now. Furious at him for not taking this as seriously as she was. “It’s not proper and there are rules to make sure-” 

“What rules?” he barked at her.

Sophie was almost shaking with fury over him continuously interrupting her, but he was just as angry. But unlike him, she was trying to keep her temper from getting the best of her, biting the inside of her cheek as she breathed through her nose. 

If he wasn’t angry himself he might have found her frankly adorable to watch her, vibrating with rage. It reminded him of the small dogs he’d seen the Queen owned. Sophie was close to a foot shorter than him. Her height also meant Benedict tried to keep his eyes on hers, and not on her chest rising and falling with each deep breath she took.

“I have no interest in creating a scandal. For your family or mine. I will not ruin this. Which is why it is best for us to just follow the rules set in place to guarantee that does not happen,” Sophie explained calmly, yet still glaring up at him. 

He’d had enough. Something inside him snapped. 

“Because this would be your first time disobeying the rules,” Benedict hissed suddenly, his mouth once again running off again before his mind could stop him. 

Sophie blink, surprised by his fiery accusation, but Benedict knew from her reaction he’d gotten her. Caught her. The anger disaperated in a second and Benedict could see her heart rate had gone up, her breathing had increased. 

“I do not know what you mean,” she told him hesitantly, trying to keep her courage as she glanced away, deciding it best to not look at him any longer. She couldn’t, that’s why. Instead, she focused on the gardens around them. 

“I doubt this is your first experience," he told her slowly, watching as she stiffened. Freezing in place. “Alone on a patio.”

Sophie's head snapped towards him. Fear flashed in her round eyes ever so briefly. But the shock shifted and turned to a frown, one of confusion, and concern, over where he was going with this. A hesitancy to ask what he meant. 

"Receiving dancing lessons from dark-haired gentlemen," he added without being asked, leaning in closer and cocking his head to the side, waiting, and watching as the penny dropped. 

The frown deepened as she studied him before slowly turning into shock. Like being struck by lightning. Moss-colored eyes widened in panic. She gasped. "Oh God–how do you…that was—that was you ?!"

"Glad you've finally caught up," he deadpanned. 

Sophie's face was bright red from mortification as the realization set it. "Oh god, I–what am I–how did-" she stuttered before pausing. Benedict watched her blink before the shock shifted to anger and annoyance as she stared up at him. Her gloved hands clenched into tight, little fists at her sides. "This whole time! You know this whole time ? Why didn't you say anything?"

"I knew since you arrived at my family home today, not a moment before," he shot back defensively. "And pray tell, Miss Beckett, how exactly was I supposed to explain to my brother that his fiancée and I once spent a lovely evening together, alone , when she failed to even tell me who she was?" 

If her face wasn't already beet red, Benedict was sure Sophie would have turned redder. She looked away from him in shame.

"I didn't know who you were," was all she said. "What would I have possibly said?" 

"Well, 'my name is Sophia Beckett' would have been a good place to start," he told her. 

Sophie only looked up at him and frowned back, mouth scrunching up tightly, lips pressed together as if she had just sucked on something particularly bitter. Her adorable furious look had returned to her face.

"You didn't tell me who you were. If I recall, you never once mentioned your name to me, either. So, do not think you get to have the moral high ground with me, Mr. Bridgerton," she snapped back. 

"Well, look where it got us," he retorted. "What exactly am I supposed to tell Anthony?"

"You will tell him nothing!" Sophie shot quickly, voice louder as the fear and panic whipped through her tone.

Truthfully, Benedict had no interest in telling Anthony about this. Not right now. Certainly not now. And even if he wanted to, he had no idea how to even begin to explain, let alone what Anthony’s reaction would be. He didn't even know if his brother would believe him.

"I won't," he admitted, softer this time. "I won't. I promise."

Sophie relaxed, but the fear, the nerves, were still there. She was as stressed by this as he was frustrated, pressing a gloved hand to her chest as she tried to calm her racing heart. 

"Excuse me," she told him, moving past him.

"Where are you going now?" he started harshly, feeling a sense of deja vu all over again.

"I need to leave. I need to…to get as far away from here as possible. To get away from you ," she declared forcefully, picking up the skirts of her dress to make it easier for her to move. 

"Sophie, wait!" he called out after her, but she had already fled, slipping around the corner and back inside before anyone noticed her. 

He cursed, grimacing as she disappeared. His heart was beginning to slow. He was calming down, and with that, realizing how horribly he had just messed up things.

There were a thousand ways he could have handled that, handled it better, and instead he had gone and both offended and terrified her by revealing to her what he knew. And he still had no idea what to do, even now that Sophie was aware that matter had only been complicated further. 

Sophie would probably never speak to him again. From their conversation, she still appeared set to marry his brother regardless of this new information. 

And his brother still had no idea about this. 

God, he was truly truly fucked. 

Chapter Text

Kate found the London ton's opening season ball to be infuriating and incredibly dull. 

Given her frank lack of interest in marriage, Kate felt well prepared to keep any tempted man away from her (and Edwina if necessary) and had so far been successful in not catching anyone's eye. Her disinterest in speaking with the male guests meant half of the room's potential conversing pool was gone.

But the other half seemed uninterested in speaking to her or Edwina as they walked through the room.

The other society members had been watching her stepmother since the three of them entered. Their early arrival, courtesy of Mary being old friends with the host, Lady Danbury, did not prevent the looks of contempt and judgment, and the whispers shot their way. Ones which had only convinced Kate further how ill-suited it was for her to remain in London once the season was through and Edwina had found a match. The arrogance and spitefulness of some people. How they looked down their noses at Kate and her relatives because Mary dared to marry a man beneath her station only fueled a burning fire that Kate felt deep within her. 

Her father had loved Mary deeply, as much as he had once loved Kate's own mother before her untimely death. He'd done his best to provide for them, but with him now gone and Mary disowned, there was only enough money for one dowry. Kate felt it was only fitting that it went to Edwina, with her disinterest with marriage, and Kate was going to make sure it did. 

Kate had noticed Lady Penwood and her two daughters before she noticed Sophie. The older woman, technically also their host, did not even glance in their direction as she continued gossiping with another group of ladies. Neither did Rosamund, who gave them the cut direct as looked them straight in the eye, before giving them a twisted smiling and turning back to viciously gossiping about them with another young lady. Only Posy gave them a kind smile and cheerful wave as they moved by.

Kate nodded back as they passed, feeling sorry for the younger woman. Knowing Lady Penwood would not allow Posy near them during the evening's event, meaning Posy would spend it awkwardly hanging on the outskirts of the conversation her mother and sister were having with the others.  

And she could see on Posy's face that she knew that too. 

While Kate had yet to interact enough with Lord Penwood to gauge what type of character and man he was, Lady Penwood was another story. 

Arrogant, hypocritical, social climber. Looking down her nose at anyone whose rank was lower than her current husband's when Kate was sure she was on her third or fourth marriage. From the moment they'd met, Kate had caught the way Araminta's upper lip had curled before she caught herself, plastering a fake smile as she introduced herself. She barely spoke to Kate and her family after that day, constantly giving excuses for why she could not assist them all done with fake pleasantries and smiles. Rosamund was blunter in her reasoning, but dimmer.

Not that Kate minded. She preferred not having to socialize with Araminta or Rosamund.

Which left her mainly listening to the pair. 

The arguments they'd heard had even stunned Mary after they arrived. How willing Araminta was to do it when they were there, screaming the house down over the smallest of matters. At both her husband and the servants, but Kate had noted it was more difficult for her to get her way when Lord Penwood was present. Araminta still had no issue loudly arguing with Lord Penwood about Sophie's betrothal as if assuming the size of Penwood House prevented her screechings from being heard by everyone else in London. 

"You gave your simple, low-born ward-" Kate had heard her screaming one evening. Araminta had decided to renew and argument she’d already had with the earl the night before, one where Sophie had been present. An argument she’d been repeating almost word for word. "A betrothal to a man higher than her station to marry. As if she deserves any more of your kindness. You’ve given her far more then she needed, and you still give her this. Never once did you not tell me you have gotten betrothal from the Bridgertons. We could have used it for Rosamund."

"This arrangement was made over ten years ago, Araminta. Before I met you," Lord Penwood had curtly replied, more of a hiss which Kate almost did not hear due to him keeping his voice low. Not screaming or shouting the way his wife was. 

"If you have already secured one, why can you not just secure another? The viscount has two eligible brothers. If you have something on the Bridgertons then why not use it to our advantage?" Araminta had retorted, dramatically lamenting. 

"Forgive me if I assumed you could marry off your own daughters. You assured me you would when we did. Hence why do they have their own dowries, remember? And frankly, Araminta, if I am honest, I just do not have any time or interest in assisting you with this matter," Lord Penwood had replied. Kate had to cover her mouth quickly when she heard him, preventing herself from letting a laugh out, which would have immediately drawn attention to her standing at the barrister of the staircase listening in on them. 

She'd wanted to listen in longer, noting how Araminta's voice had gone up another octave as she began screaming at her husband for not providing her enough money to make Rosamund look more eligible (as if that was the reason men turned and ran from the eldest Reiling) when Mary had caught her lingering in the hallway, harshly whispering a reprimand to her. Telling her to return to her room and not listen in on matters that did not concern her. 

Soon, Kate spotted Sophie hanging on the arm of her betrothed, the first time Kate had ever seen him besides learning his name. A man whom Kate wouldn't admit to her friend or anyone else; how surprised she'd been to see how young and handsome Sophie's fiancé was. 

Rakish was Kate's first thought. Like a Byronic hero with dark hair and equally darker eyes, ones with a sternness to them Kate did not believe was normal (or correct) for his age. He was too severe looking for his age, yet even as he stood tall and rigid, he moved with an element of grace and power. It reminded her of the Bengal tigers she'd once seen while on a hunting trip, the slow fluid movements it made as it prowled the jungle looking for a meal. 

He was a tiger standing next to a mouse that was Sophie Beckett.

Kate did not mean it as an insult, but she couldn't help but notice how small Sophie looked next to her fiancé, the Viscount Anthony Bridgerton. 

Sophie did not initially see them as she entered. Too distracted by the looks she was getting from the other guests that she kept her eyes focused on her future in-laws and not on those hawkishly regarding her. She did notice them shortly after Anthony had stepped away from the group, with two other individuals Kate had suspected were his siblings moving away as well. The tension in her body seemed to ease as she saw them, relief at spotting someone she recognized, and she quickly excusing herself to come over to them.

"You look lovely, Sophie," Mary told her as she approached.

"Thank you. So do you. All of you," Sophie replied. 

"Was that the viscount?" Edwina excitedly asked. "You did not tell us he was handsome." 

Sophie's cheeks went red as she nervously swallowed, chuckling slightly in an effort to cover her embarrassment. "Yes, he is, isn’t he?" she replied, awkwardly.

“And his family? What are they like? Are they nice?” Edwina questioned, wanting to know all the excitement of Sophie’s day since she and Kate had been unable to come with due to Mary wishing to meet with Lady Danbury.  

“Yes, yes, they’ve been quite lovely. Please, let me introduce you to them,” Sophie replied.

As much as Kate did want to meet this Anthony Bridgerton, the room had begun to feel overbearingly warm and stuffy, becoming uncomfortable for Kate to deal with given she was wearing a stiff corset underneath her dress. She needed some air before she faced off with her friend’s fiancé and finally confirmed her suspicions of him not being a good match for her. 

"I'm going to get some air quickly. The room is rather warm," Kate told them. She only needed a moment. “I’ll catch up.”

As the others followed Sophie, Kate slipped out one of the large bay doors and onto the terrace. The late spring evening was cool, not freezing, but cool enough that her bare arms had gotten goosebumps from the breeze blowing through. The temperature was bearable, even if Kate still missed India's warm, humid nights. 

Closing her eyes, Kate took a deep breath.

All she had to do was get through this season. Once Edwina was married, probably to Mr. Bagwell with how things had been going, she could return to India knowing her sister and Mary would be provided for. That had been the plan. And while she still has some lingering reservations towards Edwina’s suitor, Kate could not ignore how sweet he was towards Edwina and that he did fit the description of Edwina’s ‘ideal man.’

Even though Bagwell seemed to hold all her sister’s attention, the season would be starting and there was a potential for other suitors to now notice Edwina’s beauty and sweet disposition, ones Kate was more than welcomed to keep away.

And she wouldn’t ignore that Sophie’s wedding meant they would be gone from London for the next month.

She hadn't meant to involve herself in Sophie's future as well. Kate suspected it may have to do with Sophie being similar to Edwina in personality, that it was difficult for her to not want the best for her as well. And Sophie had been one of the first people in London they’d met to be kind to them, always assisting and making sure they were comfortable. More welcoming than the earl, who while he had opened his home to them, was never around to exactly host them.

And it was evident to Kate that Sophie had not grown up with much love, end yet, through all that, was a kind and caring woman. A genuine kindness that Kate had learned from the housekeeper was a trait of Sophie’s since childhood.

It was a shame that her friend could not seek out love by her own accord, even if Kate did worry Sophie would be taken advantage of.

She'd only wanted to take a few moments to herself, alone on the empty terrace, but Kate had gotten lost in her thoughts, wandered around the gardens longer than planned, and losing track of time. 

Soon she found she had looped around to the door she'd exited from, having wandered quietly around the large, spectacular building, which resembled a greenhouse as the exterior walls were made up of tall, broad, glass windows and bay doors framed with white and gold. As she approached, she quickly spotted a trio of men standing by the balcony above her, chatting. She planned to slip past unnoticed and back inside when another gentleman exited, forcing her to wait at the bottom of the stairs, hidden behind the large green hedges and plants. 

"Lord Bridgerton," a male voice called out. "Won't you join us?"

Kate froze. Anthony Bridgerton, Sophie's fiancé, a man she had never met but wholeheartedly felt was unsuitable for her friend, was standing directly above her. She couldn't see him from this angle, but she could hear him. 

"Gentlemen," he replied politely to the others. 

"Lord Fife was just telling us you are engaged," one man replied humorously. He was one Kate could see, standing next to a dark-skinned gentleman he'd nodded towards. "What a shame."

"We had hoped you'd finally announce your intentions for a wife this year. Keep all the marriage-minded mamas off our backs for a season," the one Kate suspected to be Lord Fife joked. The others laughed along with him.

"My sympathies for you all," the viscount jested in return. 

"How is it that you met your intended?" one of the other men asked. "I do not believe I've ever seen her before. Quite the looker." 

"The earl has certainly been hiding her away from all of us for a reason," the first one remarked. "What was it I heard? Ten-thousand-pound dowry? Twenty?"

"Fifteen," Anthony corrected impassively. 

One of the men whistled in response, and Kate felt her hands tightening into fists. Even with the gloves' fabric between her nails and skin, she could still fill them, digging in hard enough to leave crescent-shaped marks. 

"And for a ward no less," one of the men remarked. 

"You're sure there is nothing wrong with her?" another asked with a smirk. "Has to be a reason Lord Penwood is so eager to get rid of her." 

"I've found no fault. So far," Anthony replied with a chuckle, and Kate bit her tongue to prevent any appalled sound from escaping her. Found no fault? How dare he!

"Lord Penwood isn't hiding any more pretty, distant cousins we should know of?" one of the gentlemen asked curiously. "Miss Beckett does not have any sisters hidden away in the countryside?"

"Not if you count the Reilings girls, Wright," Lord Fife reminded and Kate heard all the gentlemen groan. 

Wright scoffed with a disgusted curl of his lip, shaking his head. "As if I would bother with them. The elder one is certainly pretty, but her character alone would be hell to endure, and the younger one is just too large for my tastes."

"And you're forgetting their mother," the third still unnamed gentleman added. "I do not believe there's a man in England who wishes to have her as a mother-in-law." 

Kate begrudgingly agreed with that.

"Miss Beckett, fortunately, does not share the same disposition as the Reiling sisters," Anthony informed them. "What she lacks in quick wit, she makes up with intelligence and genteel manners."

"You are far too lucky, Bridgerton," Lord Fife declared. "My congratulations on being given a perfect bride."

"We're heading off to the smoke room. Will you be joining us?" Wright asked. 

"I'll follow in just a moment," Anthony replied.

Kate observed the other men all nodding back their understanding as they moved away, heading towards the door. As they left, Anthony moved toward where they had been standing, all Kate could see was his back. 

And with his back turned, the others having departed back inside, she now had a chance to escape. 

But as she went to quickly flee up the stairs, her eyes were still on the viscount, and as a result, her head turned in the wrong direction. As a result, she failed to notice an empty pot sitting at the bottom of the stairs, simple decoration but one laying smack in the middle of her path.  

One she promptly kicked over. The pot tipped over and cracked apart, loudly breaking into two pieces. 

Kate tried not to curse over how loud the crack was, and how she'd stubbed her toe when she kicked it.

"Is someone there?" Anthony called out. 

There was a staircase a short distance in the other direction, one Kate decided was where she needed to get to and fast. She turned and hastily tried to get away from the area, but could not move far enough in time; hearing him come down the stairs behind her and knowing he would spot her immediately.

"I said, is someone ther-Aha!" he started, stopping in his tracks as he saw her.

She sighed, mentally cursing herself again, this time for getting caught, knowing she needed to escape this situation. And fast. 

Kate turned to face him, giving a quick, polite bob. "My lord," she said. 

Anthony smirked. An infuriatingly handsome and cocky smirk that only aggravated her. "You are aware it is rude to listen in on the conversations of others," he informed her, lightly teasing her. 

"My apologies. I was merely out here trying to get some air," she replied curtly, not meaning the apology, wishing to remove herself from this situation as quickly as possible. 

"It's no issue. Did you get what you needed?" Anthony informed her dismissively. 

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

He gave her a chuckle, appearing to not understand why she was confused. "I've seen how competitive this marriage mart can get. I assume you wished to find information on the eligible men of this season so you may have an up on the others."

Kate was confident her brain had momentarily stopped working. She could only blink again, stunned, as she tried to process what he was implying. 

"And how do you know I wish to marry?" she asked with a forced smile. One barely able to hide her anger. 

"Is that not the expectation of all women? The one goal in life that they set themselves?" he returned. 

The way in which he spoke it, with a dismissive shrug, was what angered Kate the most. She had found herself having to bite the inside of her cheek to keep herself grounded as she straightened her back.

It was a goal of women because society deemed it and had decided it was the only way to survive. The dowry their father left them would go to Edwina’s husband once she married, for him to control and decide what to do with. Which was another reason for Kate being so invested in who Edwina married. 

“A goal?” she raised a brow at the viscount.

“So, they might find happiness,” Anthony added reassuringly, finally realizing he had offended her.

Only if they found love, and a love that lasted, then they could be happy. It was the dream of all young women, even Kate, no matter how much she denied it, to find a love match. A partner who treated them as an equal, but those men seemed to be a rarity in Kate's experience. That, or they truly were nonexistent. 

At best, a woman was lucky to find a husband that, while lacking love for them, would give her freedom, but those who could not or chose wrong found themselves trapped in a prison. And those who never married were considered burdens to their families and the society around them. 

And an arranged marriage was just a coin toss. The luck of the draw. At least the other women here tonight had the choice to find a good match. 

"You believe marriage means happiness? You? A man who is betrothed to another," she reminded him. 

"That's not what I meant," he replied, a crease appearing between his brows as he frowned at her. 

"Please do tell me then, how do men see marriage? How it differs from the views of women?"

"It's a duty."

"And yet, I am certain many of the eligible men inside find they have all the time in the world to string the debutantes along until they find one amongst the batch dutiful enough, with good wit and genteel enough manners to be a suitable wife," she snapped. "Or they merely ask their fathers to find them one."

Anthony's jaw clenched. "I never asked my father for this arrangement," he gritted out at her. 

"And yet, you believe yourself quite lucky with the match you were given," she retorted. 

“I never said that,” Anthony said, defensively.

"But it is your duty to marry her, yes?" she questioned sarcastically. "Do you find yourself happy with your situation? With your duty?"

"Forgive me if I have doubts about your ability to judge the happiness of others," he shot at her, not answering her questions. 

"And you believe your betrothed is happy?" 

"She understands what is expected of her. As do I." 

"Then, if that is the case, my lord, my sympathies can only be given to Miss Beckett," Kate informed him. "For a woman of such warmth and kindness to be shackled to such a cold man like yourself, it must be quite a disappointment." 

Her insult struck. Hard. Anthony stiffened, eyes narrowing at her. A wave of frigid anger swirled in his dark eyes. "And who exactly are you? I do not believe I caught your name," he practically hissed at her. 

Kate opened her mouth, prepared to give another scathing insult before making a quick escape instead of answering him, but was interrupted by another voice calling out for her. 

"Kate!" she turned and saw Sophie hastily rushing down the stairs towards her in a panic. 

Anthony's eyebrows shot up as he looked from Sophie and back to her. "You're Kate Sharma?" 

"There you are. I need to speak to you," Sophie said as she caught up to them, out of breath. She took a few moments to catch her breath, before spotting her fiancée. Sophie jumped in surprise, having not realized he'd been standing there. "Oh! Anthony! Apologies, I did not see you there." 

The angry look dropped from Anthony's face, he returned to the severe but neutral expression Kate had seen him wear when he arrived, as he quickly nodded towards her. "Have you been enjoying the evening, Sophie?"

Sophie flushed cheeks only reddened as she nodded her head back even quicker. "Oh, yes, it's been…wonderful. Exciting. Lovely evening, really." 

She was panicking. Flustered. If anything, Sophie resembled a ruffled cockatoo as she spoke rapidly to Anthony, wringing her hands, pulling the tips of her gloves as she babbled. It was evident to Kate that her friend was nervous. All of which was made worse by the realization she was in the presence of Anthony right now. 

"Are you alright?" Kate asked her gently.

Sophie quickly glanced towards Anthony and back to her, shifting in discomfort. The discomfort she had hidden behind a forced smile. "Yes, I just…um…need to speak with you privately," she whispered the last couple of words. 

"Is everything alright?" Anthony asked, frowning in concern.

"Oh yes, it's just…womanly matters, I'm afraid," Sophie quickly told him with a nervous laugh, pressing a gloved hand over her stomach. A lie, Kate realized. 

And for a man with four younger sisters, a lie that did not work. "If you need assistance, Sophie, I can fetch my mother-" Anthony started. 

"No! No, it's nothing too serious," Sophie rapidly explained, beginning to nervously babble again. "It won't take more than a moment." 

Anthony frowned, unsure of what to do as he watched them. Sophie seemed desperate to get rid of him, and Kate only glared at him every time he looked at her. It appeared best for him to go without further question.

"I'll leave you both to it," Anthony told them, bowing quickly. "I'll be inside if you need me, Sophie." 

"Yes, thank you," Sophie hastily replied. 

Giving a quick, polite bow, Anthony then headed off back towards the estate, Sophie watching him intently until he was far enough away and slipping back inside before turning to Kate. 

"What's wrong? Are you alright?" Kate asked, reaching out to grasp her friend's arm. 

"Remember how I told you I had maybe snuck off to a ball one night and met a gentleman? How I had a very lovely evening with him and wished I was marrying him instead?" she asked, bouncing nervously. 

Kate nodded, recalling how she'd gotten a giggling Sophie to spill her secret to her one night at Penwood House. Sophie had told her about the night at Aubrey Hall two years ago with the mysterious gentleman she danced with. Her 'little escape' as Sophie had called it. Kate might not have been someone who believed in love at first sight, but the way Sophie had described her experience had only made Kate feel sorry for her.

"Well, I met him. Again," Sophie told her, panicked.

Kate frowned. "Who is it?"

"Benedict."

"Benedict, who?"

"Bridgerton."

Silence.

"The brother!?"

Sophie shushed her, looking around them to ensure they were still alone. "Yes, yes," she hissed. "The brother."

"Which one is he?" Kate asked, trying to remember the order. She had yet to even meet any of the other siblings.

"The second. Their names are alphabetical by age," Sophie reminded her. 

"Does he know?" she asked, and Sophie gave her a terrified nod. "Oh, God, Sophie…"

"I know," Sophie cringed, covering her face. "Oh, God. What am I supposed to do?"

"Is he going to tell anyone?" Kate asked. 

Sophie shook her head. "I don't know. I don't think he will," she replied before freezing. Her panicked eyes widened as they shot up toward Kate's. "You don't think he'll tell Anthony do you?"

"They are brothers," Kate reminded her with a hesitant shrug. 

Her answer only made Sophie's panic worse. 

"If he tells Anthony, he'll surely call off the engagement. He'll want nothing to do with me. Nothing, and it was all just announced tonight! I'll be ruined," Sophie gasped in near tears as the fear overwhelmed her. "And if that happens, the earl will never forgive me. Never."

Kate felt her stomach tightening as she watched her friend beginning to fall apart.

Deep down, Kate knew. About who Sophie truly was. From the moment she met her, there was no doubt in her mind Sophie was Lord Penwood's child. Even Mary had put it together. The similar colored eyes and hair, the features that matched Lord Penwood's. Add to it how Lord Penwood never spent longer than a minute in the same room as Sophie, and it was apparent what was happening.

She would probably never ask, though. Kate hadn't thought it her place to. She and Sophie had come to an unspoken agreement that both parties knew the truth without having to say a word to support it. 

And it was not as if Lord Penwood looked down kindly on Sophie. The cold, dismissive distance he gave her added to how Lady Penwood appeared to treat Sophie; Kate understood why Sophie was so desperate to see the wedding through. Even if she was not happy about it, marriage was her only escape option. 

"Sophie. Breathe," Kate told her friend, seeing Sophie was on the verge of hyperventilating. 

Placing her hands on Sophie’s shoulders, Kate continued telling her to take deep breaths. After a few moments, Sophie took a shuddering gasp. Her chest expanded with each breath she took as she followed Kate’s instructions, slowly calming down.

"We'll figure this out. I promise," Kate told her. "If I have to drag Anthony down that aisle myself, I will. It will be fine."

"You're sure?" Sophie asked. 

"Yes," Kate assured her, not at all lying as she spoke. 

Well, not entirely. She wasn't trying to lie to Sophie. She was more or less just trying to hide her own fears from her already flustered friend. 

"Everything will be fine," she added, trying to convince herself as she spoke. “Let’s get you back inside, alright?”

Chapter Text

I'm confident the distraught cries of the newly debuted and their marriage-minded mamas can still be heard after this weekend's start of the season ball. For it appears, dear reader, that the rumors are unfortunately true.

The Viscount Anthony Bridgerton will not be in search of a wife this year.

For he is already engaged.

His intended is the young Miss Sophia Beckett, ward of the fifth Earl of Penwood. The engagement was confirmed at this past weekend's ball hosted by Lady Danbury, where the two were seen in attendance on each other's arm (and where they danced together. Twice). The Earl of Penwood, as he has been for many seasons now, was not in attendance, having allegedly left London to handle crucial matters pertaining to his estate in the country. 

One must wonder how a young woman of such a lowly status as Miss Beckett's was able to secure an engagement to one of the ton's most sought out bachelors. Has a blooming love been occurring right under my nose? Or is there more to this odd pairing? I do truly hope to find out, but for now, this author cannot ignore how wonderfully good-looking the pair are together. I'm sure they will have equally wonderfully good-looking children, and I wish them all the best in their engagement. 

- Lady Whistledown's Papers

| April 17th, 1816 |

Sophie sighed as she placed the pamphlet on the vanity in front of her. It wasn't as though she could be upset with the gossipmonger. Whistledown had given her approval of the match. 

But also fueled speculation in the same paragraph. 

"Is everything alright, miss?" her lady's maid, Claire, asked as she continued pinning Sophie's hair. 

"Yes, of course," Sophie quickly lied. 

Everything had been fine, Sophie supposed. Since the panicked evening a few nights ago, when she'd discovered that her future brother-in-law was the same man she'd been fantasizing about for almost two years, Sophie had not spoken to Benedict again since then. 

She would give the credit to Kate, who had done what she could to act as a temporary barrier the last few days, starting up conversations with Benedict whenever he was present to prevent him from being able to converse with Sophie. The fact that could not be ignored was that Benedict was currently choosing to keep his distance from her. As far as she could tell, Benedict had not said anything, to anyone, about their previous encounter. It left her lingering in limbo, waiting for it to be revealed. For the penny to drop. 

But as she waited, Sophie had learned that Anthony himself was a busy man. Too busy that it may have prevented his brother from being able to inform him. He hardly spent any time with her, keeping her in the company of his siblings as he went about completing his viscount duties.

She suspected she would not see him today either, especially with the plans for the day. 

They were to go to the modiste today so that Sophie could try on her wedding gown, which Madame Delacroix had worked on for the past few weeks. The final adjustments would be made for it to be completed and sent to Kent. 

Just another sign of her impending marriage. 

A knock on the door interrupted her from her thoughts.

"Sophie," it was Hyacinth, the youngest Bridgerton. "Are you awake? Can I come in?"

"Yes, you may come in, Hyacinth," Sophie quickly called back.

Hyacinth, for whatever reason, was greatly interested in getting to know Sophie, more so than her older siblings were. Sophie had mainly had awkward, silent interactions with Anthony’s younger brothers Colin and Gregory, and his sister Eloise. It had been Hyacinth and Francesca who Sophie had conversed with the most after her arrival. Both girls were kind and charming and yet had utterly differing personalities from the other, but both were open to getting to know her better. Hyacinth was excitable and chatty, easily distractible at her young age, whereas Francesca was quieter but hiding a quick wit and intellect behind her poised posture. 

The door creaked open, and Hyacinth poked her head in, glancing around until she spotted Sophie sitting by the vanity. She happily bounded into the room, her curled hair swaying with each bounce, as she said her 'good morning,' heading towards the cushioned stool at the end of the bed and taking her seat there. 

Claire had finished pinning up her hair, telling Sophie she would return quickly after she brought the tray of tea back to the kitchen, leaving just Hyacinth and Sophie in the room as she quietly slipped out.

"Are you excited to see your dress?" Hyacinth asked her after a few quiet moments. 

"Oh! Um…of course," Sophie told her quickly, giving her a quick smile through the mirror. "I'm certain Madame Delacroix has done a wonderful job."

Hyacinth smiled back. "Is the earl going to walk you down the aisle?" she asked, moving on in her questioning. 

Not likely. Sophie was confident that on the day of the wedding, another sudden emergency would come up, and her father would be unable to attend. Besides, it was not as if he had said so or that he would offer to begin with.

"I do not believe so," Sophie answered.

Hyacinth cocked her head slightly to the side, confused. "But did he not raise you all these years? Would that not make him the right person to walk you down? Is he not your father?"

Sophie grimaced. "I would not necessarily call him my father. He is my guardian. His lordship ensured I was provided with a home and an education after my parents died because I was too young to do so myself. That is all. I have never really expected him to do more than that."

Her answer seemed to only confuse Hyacinth more. "Anthony is technically my guardian, and I want him to walk me down the aisle when I get married," she told her matter of factly. 

"And I'm certain he would be very honored by that," Sophie replied with a smile. "But the earl is…different."

“How?”

“Well, he just…he just isn’t someone I would call a parent,” Sophie explained.

"Do you miss your parents?" Hyacinth asked her hesitantly.

Sophie's brows snapped upwards in surprise as she looked at Hyacinth's reflection in the mirror. Slowly, she turned to face the young girl, thinking over her answer as she turned.

"Um, well…I did not really know them long," Sophie told her. "My parents passed when I was very little, so I did not get the chance to form many memories of them. But I suppose I do miss them sometimes."

She did miss her mother. The mother who died the day she'd been born. Sophie had sometimes wondered what would have happened to her if her mother had lived, what her mother would have been like. From the few memories of her grandmother, Sophie had always thought – hoped – that her mother was an equally caring and kind woman. 

The only clear memory Sophie had of her maternal grandmother was of her smiling down at her, rubbing her thumb over Sophie's cheek comfortably before she double checked Sophie's coat was appropriately closed (and that she had the letter in her hand for her father) before leaving her at the front door of Penwood Park and fleeing into the darkness.  

Sophie never saw her again after that night, recalling how her grandmother had always had a terrible cough. A cough that had led her to doubt she was still alive, and since her father had never given her a name for her maternal family, she had no idea where she was even buried. Let alone her mother. 

Even if she did, there was a possibility her grandmother had been tossed in a pauper's grave. Unclaimed and thus buried as an unknown. As might have been the case for her mother, too, if there had not been enough money to afford a proper burial.

Sophie tried not to think about it. 

"I'm sorry you lost them," Hyacinth told her softly.

Sophie gave her a sympathetic smile. She was aware that Hyacinth knew what that was like to lose a parent at a young age. Hyacinth's own father had died as the result of a simple bee sting only a month before she was born, the stress and grief from his death having caused her mother to go into early labor from what Sophie had been told. 

"I'm sorry you lost your father," Sophie returned just as gently.

Hyacinth shifted awkwardly at the condolences, one of her ankles kicked up before the heel of her shoe clicked against the wooden stool's leg. "Did you ever meet my father?"

"Briefly," Sophie replied. "I believe it was the day the arrangement between your brother and I was made, but I am afraid, though, it is the only time I met him."

She was supposed to go unnoticed that day. Her father had ordered the housekeeper, Miss Gibbons, to keep her in her room while he met with the Bridgerton patriarch, but Sophie had gotten bored. Even her abundance of patience was not everlasting. She'd been waiting for the housekeeper to return with lunch and had decided to go to the library to grab a book, thinking she could be quick in her goal. She was unaware that was the same room the butler had left Edmund waiting in, and he'd heard her crash onto the carpet in the hallway after she'd tripped on her own feet, trying to hastily sneak away in a panic. 

He'd been very nice. Providing her some comfort after she got carpet burns on her palms from her fall. He'd even cracked a few jokes, making her laugh to distract her from the stinging pain in her hands before Sophie's father had come across them.

Suffice to say, she'd been quickly ordered back to her room by her father without even getting to say goodbye to Edmund. And without her book.

"He was very funny," she added.

"So, my siblings tell me," Hyacinth returned somewhat sarcastically.

The conversation faded into silence. It was a rather tricky conversation to continue, and Sophie noted the discomfort and sadness coming from the girl so early in the day. She did not believe Hyacinth had come into her room to have this conversation, and Sophie had undoubtedly not been pushing for it either, but here they were. 

To make her feel better, Sophie recalled a matter she wanted to discuss with Hyacinth. One she suspected would be well received.

"You know, while we were on the topic of wedding processions, I realized I forgot to ask. I'm going to need a flower girl-" Sophie told Hyacinth, noticing the young girl perk up as she continued. "And I was wondering-?"

"Yes!" Hyacinth jumped to her feet. "I kept asking Anthony, but he told me to speak with you, and I really did want to ask you when you got here, but mother said that would be rude and to give you time to settle in, but yes! A thousand times, yes. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

Arms were thrown around Sophie's neck as she found herself in a bone-crushing hug at the hands of the youngest Bridgerton, squealing excitedly as she bounced up and down while hugging her. Hyacinth rambled on about how she would go tell her mother what had happened before running from the room without another word. Sophie could hear the loud yelling fade away as Hyacinth called out for her mother, desperate to tell her the news that she was already shouting it through the halls. 

Claire soon returned to help Sophie finish getting ready, pulling on a soft, robin egg blue gown, the Bridgerton colors. Her father had made sure the majority of her new wardrobe matched her new family's traditions. No champagne or navy blue, colors typically worn by Penwood matriarchs and daughters, could be found in Sophie's wardobe. Araminta had made it her entire wardrobe after she married Richard, along with some bold, expensive colors like purple. Pale lilac had apparently been Sophie's paternal grandmother's favorite color; many of her father's cravats were either that color or dark blue. Araminta had claimed it to be her reasoning for having so many gowns made in expensive dark purple fabrics. 

But it wasn't as if Sophie had been allowed to wear the Penwood colors, to begin with. Her father had usually had her dresses made in shades of pale green or simple whites and muted browns, nothing overtly fancy but never plain either. Her gowns were always far fancier than the ones she'd seen on the village girls near Penwood Park.

Now she had the wardrobe of a fine lady, one befitting a viscountess.

As she departed her room, fiddling with a stubborn button on one of her expensive lace gloves, she had not realized a taller form was coming around the corner as she turned to head towards the stairs, leading to her slamming right into them.

"Oh! Apologies," she quickly uttered, glancing up to see, to her shock and horror, it was Benedict.

"Miss Beckett," he nodded politely, looking as uncomfortable as she was becoming.

Sophie stuttered, trying to find the words, but they kept fleeing from her throat before she had a chance to use them. "Good morning," she finally went with after a few awkward stutters. 

"Good morning," Benedict replied curtly. 

Her fingers fiddled nervously with the button she had yet to clasp as silence took over. "Busy day?" 

"Yes… I'm just finishing my packing for Aubrey Hall," he told her. "I had a few items I left here, though. Wanted to grab them before I forgot." 

"That's smart," she tried to force a polite smile. She finally clasped the button of her glove closed. "I have the…um…" she found herself trailing off as she realized where the sentence was going. "The fitting for th-"

"Wedding dress?" Benedict supplied, his jaw tensing. "Yes, my sisters have been talking nonstop about it. Hyacinth said you asked her to be a flower girl."

She nodded, her movements jerky and stiff as if her neck and jaw wished to have no part in this conversation. Of course, that would be the first thought to come to mind, the dress fitting as if the conversation was not already uncomfortable. 

If she lingered any longer in this hallway, Sophie was confident she would melt into the floorboards from discomfort. 

"I should get downstairs," she told him after a few moments of silence. "I do not want to keep your mother waiting long."

Quickly sidestepping around him and heading towards the stairs, Sophie soon realized Benedict had followed her, most likely heading in the same direction when she bumped into him. She tried to stay a reasonable distance ahead of him, but in her haste, her heel missed most of the stairs in front of her, aiming for the one after it, and causing her to lose her balance. 

A panicked squeak escaped her lips as she slipped backward, a rush of air blowing her pinned curls forward before she fell against a soft, solid form. 

"I got you," Benedict softly said, his arms wrapped around her waist as he caught her.

He gently helped move her up to stand again, and Sophie tried to ignore the tingling sensation sporadically shooting out through her body like fireworks from where Benedict's hand glided over the fabric of her dress as he helped her regain balance. His hand inevitably came to rest on her lower back, at which point she was desperate to try and hold back a shiver. 

"Thank you," she told him, her heart racing from the shock of her near fall. 

"Can't have you breaking an ankle before your big day," he replied, trying to joke, but the edge was still in his tone. The disappointment lingering in each word. 

She thanked him again as she took a slow step down, briefly hesitant she thought she might slip again, as she continued moving down the stairs with Benedict's hand still gently resting against her lower back until they got to the last one.

The moment they were standing on the ground level, Benedict's hand dropped away from her back, but Sophie was sure she felt a gentle tug on the skirt of her dress like the fabric was being pinched between fingers and played with. 

"Ah, Sophie, there you are," Violet beamed as she approached them. 

There was a sharp tug on the back of her dress before Benedict stepped away from her, giving his mother a quick kiss on the cheek, telling her he would return that afternoon but had matters to attend to at his lodgings before departing out the front door. He barely looked back at her as he moved through the front hall and out the door. Benedict did not even say a word to her. 

"Are you ready?" Violet's voice dragged Sophie away from watching the door Benedict had just exited from. “The Sharmas will meet us at Madame Delacroix.” 

<+>

"Oh, do you not look beautiful, Sophie?" Violet crooned, clasping her hands together in awe as she studied the gown Sophie wore before turning to the modiste. "Madame Delacroix, you have done such a spectacular job."

"Yes, it is c'est magnifique," Madame Delacroix returned with a smile, her obvious fake french accent having been something Sophie had picked up when she first met her. "You look lovely, Miss Beckett."

"Thank you," Sophie told her, even though she had been trying to not look at her reflection for the past few minutes. 

It was a spectacular gown; she would not deny that. The creme-colored silk shimmered whenever it was moved. The fabric would catch the light and take on an almost metallic shine. Embroidered on the silk around her bodice were small doves in mid-flight, the stitching light enough to make an outline of the bird with emphasis on the wings to make them more detailed, all with wings outstretched and ready to take off. She was even wearing a simple french lace veil to give a complete idea of what it would look like.

"You look beautiful," Mary added kindly as Kate nodded her agreement. 

And yet, every time she looked at herself in the mirror, her stomach did another anxious flip.

"Mother, what about this one?" Hyacinth suddenly called out from the front of the store. 

Violet sighed. She had already had multiple conversations with Hyacinth over the young girl's dress for the wedding, but Hyacinth kept on suggesting new fabrics and colors for a new one. One she felt was absolutely necessary now that she'd been named the flower girl for Anthony and Sophie's wedding. 

The Bridgerton matriarch took a deep breath. "Hyacinth, I told you already, the dress we had made is perfectly fine for a flower girl."

"But, mother…" Hyacinth whined. 

Violet sighed again, shaking her head before glancing at the others. "One moment, please." 

She headed back into the storefront. As she exited the back area, Violet reminded Hyacinth that she would not receive a new dress, no matter how much she whined. Hyacinth only argued back, turning the conversation into a back and forth as Violet gently tried to lead her away from the different fabrics and lace. 

"How has his lordship been?" Mary inquired politely. Edwina was not with them, having gone off with Francesca and Eloise to visit the pastry shop down the road with a maid. 

"Um…well. He's been rather busy, so I have not seen him much as of late," she replied. 

Kate snorted, shaking her head in disappointment. "Of course," she muttered. 

One of Sophie's dark brows perked up at the comment. She couldn't help but notice the tension between Kate and Anthony when they were in the room together. The last time they had, which was the last time Sophie had interacted with Anthony, she'd been stuck silently watching them bicker over her expected duties as a viscountess or, frankly, over any topic that came up. All the while, both of them were volleying disguised insults at each other whenever Violet and Mary had their backs turned. 

She was starting to believe they did not like one another.

Mary frowned in confusion at Kate's remark, but the jingle of a bell prevented her from questioning her stepdaughter as they heard the alert Madame Delacroix had for new customers. The modiste excused herself quickly to go check who it was.

"Ah, Lady Penwood," Sophie stiffened as she heard her stepmother's title. "One moment. I will fetch your gowns now."

"Quickly, please, Madame Delacroix," Araminta almost snapped. "I do not have all day."

Sophie's eyes connected with Kate's. Her friend moved to peer through the gap, trying to catch sight of Araminta to confirm it was her when they both knew it was. 

"Lady Penwood," Violet's sweet voice was heard. "How are you?"

"Oh, Lady Violet. I did not see you there," Araminta quickly replied dismissively. "What brings you here today?"

"I'm here with Sophie," Violet replied as if it was a well-known fact for her being at the modiste.

There was a sound of boxes being placed on a counter. "Here you are, Lady Penwood," Madame Delacroix stated.

"Alice, take them to the carriage," Araminta ordered the lady's maid she'd brought with her before turning back to Violet. "Sophie's here?"

"Yes, we were just here for the final fitting for her wedding gown. It's turned out wonderfully, but that is to be expected with Madame Delacroix's work. Sophie looks practically angelic," Violet informed her.  

"Does she now?" Araminta said, intrigued, but her voice sounded more like a hiss. "Is she back there?"

"Yes, your ladyship, but-" Madame Delacroix started, but Sophie heard the clicking of heeled shoes on the wooden floor, the dread building in her with each step.

The curtain flung aside, and in stepped Araminta Gunningworth, wearing her typically dark, royal purples. Her platinum blonde hair was curled and pinned up by matching indigo carnations. As if a bucket of ice-cold water had been dumped over her, Sophie instinctually froze up as her stepmother's icy blue eyes fell on her, her mouth curling up into a toxic smile. Dread and anxiety flushed through her veins, freezing them stiff, as she watched her stepmother slowly move around the room. Madame Delacroix and Violet stepped in behind her, a sickly sweet smile plastered on Araminta's face as the older woman appeared to have stepped into playing the role of 'supportive stepmother.'

"Oh!" Araminta gave a faux gasp as she covered her heart, and Sophie felt her own drop suddenly into her stomach. "Look at you!" 

She walked around Sophie, studying the dress intently as if she were nothing more than a dirty rag hanging off a table, a sneer briefly pulling at her lips. All the while, Sophie focused on her breathing.

"You look wonderful," Araminta told her, the furious glare of her eyes apparent even as she smiled.

Then Araminta stepped towards her, making Sophie flinch as her stepmother reached out and took her hands in hers, rubbing her thumbs over the tops with enough force and pressure to be almost painful. Pinching Sophie's hands like the claws of a crab would as she forced her fake smile even wider.

"It is such a shame your mother could not be here to see you," Araminta smiled predatorily, showing her teeth off. "She would have been so proud of you, Sophia. Moving your way up in life." 

Sophie bit the inside of her cheek. A quick glance and Sophie spotted the glare Kate was directing at the back of Araminta's head, the frown Mary had as she appeared to be biting her tongue, unsure of what to say. Even Madame Delacroix had picked up on the tension, a dark brow raised as she listened silently, making herself look like she was focusing on pinning Sophie's dress properly.

"Are you ready for the wedding?" Violet inquired politely, slicing through the tension with a few specified words.  

"Oh, of course, we are all so excited and would not dream of missing such an important occasion," Araminta directed a fake smile in the dowager viscountess' directions, which Violet only copied. "Just picking up the dresses I had ordered. And, before I forget, I do have to apologize for our absence in the coming days. I did truly wish to be present before you hosted your Hearts and Flowers ball. It is such an honor to be invited, but you must understand how important I take my girls' futures. Having them lingering out in the country would do them no favors on the marriage mart."

And Araminta wasn't likely to get Benedict or Colin to find her daughters eligible, that Sophie knew. 

"But of course," Violet replied with a smile that did not reach her eyes, a stiffness in her posture. "I do have four girls of my own, Lady Penwood." 

Araminta's smile widened like little hooks were pulling back her lips. No genuineness in her expression or words. "I knew you would understand. Well, I would love to stay longer, but I have far too busy of a day today," she told them before glancing over her shoulder toward Sophie. "Oh, and Sophie, darling, you'll want to watch what you eat over the next couple of weeks. Just a little womanly advice. Heaven forbid you not fit that lovely gown of yours when the day comes."

And then she was gone, the ringing of the bell over the door the confirmation she had left the store as Sophie's cheeks burned from mortification. She knew Araminta would say something cruel, she'd prepared for that, but it didn't stop the shame and embarrassment she felt from her stepmother doing that in front of others, one being her future mother-in-law. 

And Violet had a concerned frown on her face as she looked at the door Araminta had just exited from. Meanwhile, Hyacinth was glaring furiously where she stood behind her mother, her glare as harsh as Kate's, who muttered something under her breath. Sophie couldn't hear her friend's remark, but Mary quickly reprimanded her for whatever she said. 

Sophie felt it was pertinent she continued the conversation after Araminta departed, the awkwardness becoming too much for her. “The veil, Madame Delacroix? Will it be the same as the one I wore the day of?" she asked, wishing for the discussion to move on as if nothing had just happened.

A rather difficult affair.

"But of course, Miss Beckett," Madame Delacroix gave her a sympathetic smile. "If you prefer this one, I can add it to your order."

Violet soon started up the conversation again, asking Mary and Kate if there was anything she could do to help them with their travels to Kent in the coming days. As the discussion shifted away, as if nothing had happened with Araminta, Sophie silently watched her companions as Madame Delacroix continued moving fabric and pinning it into place.

Chapter Text

Aubrey Hall was lovely.

Traditional. That was a better word for it.

A large, grand, gray stucco and brick building with dark, thick ivy that had grown on the front of the home, twisting around the windows and front doors in tangled messes. They'd been growing there, untouched, for some time, yet it could not be considered that Aubrey Hall had been left empty for a moment. Like many other old, grand English estates Kate had seen around London, with impeccable gardens and multitudes of bright flowers, the green lawn was perfectly cut, Aubrey Hall was a beautiful estate.

It was. Kate couldn't deny that.

Stepping out of the carriage she'd arrived, along with an additional passenger in the form of Lady Danbury (it was her carriage, after all), Kate gave the large mansion a once over. Newton jumped out of the carriage behind her, hopping down to excitedly sniffing the gravel path leading to the estate, happy to finally be free of the confines of the carriage and most likely planning to relieve himself as soon as possible after their long travels.

They were arriving two days after the Bridgertons (and Sophie) had, having spent their remaining days in London in the company of Lady Danbury. As the Duke of Hasting's godmother, she'd had been invited to come earlier than the rest of the ton and offered Kate and her family to escort them herself. And it turned out to be good that she had, as Araminta decided the day before they were set to leave that she could not grant them the Penwood carriage, even though Lord Penwood had set it aside for them before he left. Far too many events for them to attend before traveling to Kent themselves, Araminta had told them. They did not want to risk sending the spare carriage out of the city if something were to happen.

"Oh, it's no issue," Mary had told Araminta with a polite smile. "We planned to travel with Lady Danbury."

Araminta had blinked back, surprised, but she had still kept her forced smile up. "Well, how…wonderfully kind of Lady Danbury. I had not known she'd offered."

"My apologies for not informing you. I was going to. I did send word to Lord Penwood we would not need his carriage, but I realize now I’d forgotten tell you as well," Mary replied, head held high. She was lying. She had not written to Lord Penwood that they would be traveling with Lady Danbury, they’d only just received the offer that day, but Araminta did not know that.

Kate could have sworn Araminta's eye had twitched, and her smile tightened. "Well, do give my thanks to Lady Danbury and safe travels."

And they quickly learned during their travels that Lady Danbury was also not a fan of Araminta Gunningworth, making her opinion known. That Lady Penwood was a social climbing leech whom Lady Danbury still had no idea why the earl had found fit for the countess role (let alone being his wife). A look of disdain crossed her features as she spoke, brow perked up like a raised guillotine as she made her remarks. She surmised (out loud) that Araminta had decided to interfere with her husband's promises for the sole purpose of making their lives difficult, as Araminta felt the need to do to everyone else as well. Acting like a widow, that her husband’s estate was for her to do as she pleased, spend as she please.

Something Mary had much more calmly agreed with.

“But enough about that selfish cow,” Danbury continued, her bold language making Edwina gasp. “Tell me, ladies, how have you both faired on the marriage mart? Any eligible young men catching your eye?”

While Edwina had quickly begun chatting to Lady Danbury about Mr. Bagwell, Kate had remained silent. Uninterest in speaking about her nonexistent love life.

She doubted there was a man for her out there.

"Miss Sharma," Kate was interrupted from her thoughts by the sound of Anthony's voice. She glanced over to see the viscount approaching her.

Kate bobbed a quick curtsy. "My lord."

"I assume your travels were to your standards," the viscount joked, smirking as he watched her brows pop up.

"Fine, thank you," she replied, ignoring the jib.

"I see you brought your dog," Anthony sniffed, nodding towards Newton, who gave him a curt bark in return.

"Yes, no point in leaving him behind in London. And I've found Newton to be an excellent judge of character," Kate informed him cheerily, after which Newton gave another short, snappish-sounding bark as if agreeing with her. She glanced back at Anthony and smiled. "Case in point."

Anthony returned her smile with a tight one of his own.

"Well, I intend to change that opinion," Anthony informed her.

Kate only scoffed, trying not to roll her eyes. "Good luck with that."

Before Anthony could retort, there was a look that he was about to; a faint trickling sound could be heard, which caused Kate to frown. It was not raining, nor had it before they arrived. The sun was shining brightly above them in clear blue skies. Wherever was the flowing water sounds coming from?

Glancing down, Kate saw it was Newton. With one back leg held up in the air, he was peeing directly on Anthony's dark leather shoe. Her reaction of surprise, eyes widening in shock, caused Anthony to glance down and see what was happening.

"Newton! Newton!" she hissed harshly, tugging at Newton's leash as Anthony staggered back in shock. "Bad dog! Bad!"

But Newton had already emptied his bladder onto the viscount's shoe (and the tip of his pant leg), happily hopping away from him before using his back legs to kick the gravel stones at Anthony, attempting to cover his mess. He trotted over to her side and sat down as if he had done nothing wrong, blinking up at Kate happily, his tongue hanging out of his mouth as he panted.

"My apologies, my lord," Kate looked back towards Anthony, who was staring down at Newton in shock, brows raised and eyes wide.

Anthony closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "It's fine," he told her.

It most certainly was not fine. They both knew that. Embarrassment was settling in Kate's stomach. She might have found it funnier, in any other situation, especially against Anthony, but she couldn't help but feel mortified by what Newton had just done. She hoped Anthony couldn't see her blushing. She prayed no one else had seen what had happened.

"Is there anything I can-?" Kate started, guiltily.

"It's fine," Anthony repeated curtly. "Excuse me."

He stepped away from her, turning and heading towards the front door. He passed by Sophie as he went in, who frowned in confusion as he barely even regarded her as he slipped past her and headed inside. She glanced towards Kate, seeing her standing alone on the outskirts of the group, and immediately came towards her.

"Everything alright?" she asked gently.

Kate cleared her throat, swallowing down the guilt she could feel spinning within her, and forced a smile. "Of course. How are you?”

“Good,” Sophie smiled, crouching down to give Newton a quick scratch under the neck as a greeting, before rising again. “How were your travels?”

“Well enough,” Kate replied.

Glancing behind Sophie, she noticed the second Bridgerton, Benedict, watching them from where he stood by his family. Watching Sophie.

“Has it been alright with…?” she pointed with her eyes at him.

“Well, he hasn’t really been around much but…” Sophie glanced over her shoulder, which was when she made eye contact with Benedict, and quickly whipped her head back towards Kate as Benedict averted his eyes elsewhere. Sophie cringed. “Maybe we can speak about it inside instead?”

“Sounds like a fine idea,” Kate told her. “You can help me unpack.”

“I’m not a maid, Kate,” Sophie reminded her with a laugh.

<+>

"How exactly am I supposed to make it to the wedding while she's here?" Anthony asked no one in particular. "You will have to drag my corpse down the aisle because, at this point, I'm certain Miss Sharma will be the cause of my early demise."

After having to change his pants, shoes, and socks as a result of Newton's bathroom habits, which had somehow still been easily spotted by Hyacinth (even after he'd changed into similarly colored pants), Anthony had found himself ranting to his brothers about the morning's events. About what had occurred since their guests had arrived. Technically one brother, Colin, had already slipped out of the room while Anthony's back was turned, uninterested in listening, which had forced Benedict to stay. His remaining brother had decided it was now early enough in the day to have a glass of whiskey, lounging in the soft, leather chair as Anthony paced the room.

"I'm certain you'll live, brother," Benedict muttered as he poured himself a second glass before collapsing back into his seat and slumping down in it.

"I am merely trying to do the duty assigned to me by our father," Anthony added.

"Uh huh," Benedict said, nodding to what Anthony was saying.

"As if I had even for a moment asked for this betrothal," Anthony continued, becoming increasingly agitated.

Benedict hummed a response this time.

"An infuriating woman, is she not? Apparently, I am at fault for all the actions of men in her mind. She blames me for my father's decisions – and I do not blame him, Benedict – but I did not create this arrangement. I did not force myself into an agreement I never wished for. However, Miss Sharma does not feel the same. Somehow I am causing Sophie immeasurable distress when I have barely done anything to her. I've barely even spoken to her. Does she look distressed to you? It is not as if it does not matter what I do," Anthony ranted, pacing the room angrily. "And that is not even getting started on the infernal dog she's brought. You have seen it, yes?"

Benedict hummed again. Anthony frowned, stopping in his tracks as he realized he'd barely gotten a response from his brother over the past few minutes.

"Are you even listening to me?" he snapped, turning to see Benedict slumped down in one of the cushion chairs, more focused on swirling whiskey around the glass he held in his hand than listening to what Anthony was saying.

"Of course, brother," Benedict replied dismissively, not looking up. 

Anthony took a deep breath, trying to gather what remained of his patience. "Then would you mind repeating what I have just spoken?"

He could practically hear his brother rolling his eyes as he spoke. "You were saying how terrible Miss Sharma is, as is her dog apparently, and that she considers you at fault for being engaged to Sophie," he replied, sounding bored, even a little agitated, before downing his whiskey in one go. "Truly horrid experience, brother. My condolences."

Anthony's frown deepened. While his brother was more than welcome to call him out when he was being an idiot (as much as he hated it, he knew he sometimes needed it), Benedict was still usually more sympathetic than this. More understanding than Colin would be.

"Has something happened?" Anthony asked.

"No. Why do you ask?" Benedict replied, stiffening, and shooting a quick glancing toward him.

"You've been…distant," Anthony supplied. "Brooding is a better word. Mother has noticed as well."

She was upset about it too, but Anthony did not need to say that part to Benedict. Practically everyone had picked up his lack of appearance prior to their travels.

Benedict sighed. "I'm fine."

"Is this to do with the 'Lady in Silver'?" he asked tentatively, unsure whether or not he should be asking. The last time the conversation had come up, Benedict had taken offense to him refuting the idea the woman he'd met that night even existed, so Anthony had decided to let it be. He'd never taken the matter that seriously, even as the mysterious woman had captured much of his brother's time and attention over the past two years.

But Benedict's eyes widened slightly when the nickname was mentioned.

"Did you find her?" Anthony added. Benedict immediately looked away, answering Anthony's question.

Ah, so he had found her.

Strange, Anthony assumed Benedict would have told him by now. Or at least one of their siblings. He'd expect his brother to be jumping for joy over the matter. Prepared to rub it in Anthony’s face that he had been wrong. Which Anthony would now admit he had been.

Honestly, he was rather impressed now.

"You know who she is? When did this happen? Have you spoken to her?" Anthony questioned, intrigued to know more. If anyone was to have a whirlwind romance, it had always been assumed that Benedict would be the one to have it.

"It does not matter," Benedict replied, placing his glass on the table.

"Has something occurred?" Anthony asked, concerned, watching his brother rise from the chair and straighten his jacket out.

"She belongs to another," Benedict grounded out. "Not much I can do about that. Doubt I can do anything, frankly."

So, the engagement part was genuine as well. And by now, she had probably already married. Anthony opened his mouth to tell his brother that he had warned him this could happen, but he stopped himself. He knew he did not need to rub salt in his brother's wounds.

Anthony sighed. His brother needed support, not ridicule or a lecture. "Benedict, I'm-"

"It's fine," Benedict interrupted it, rather snappishly, before he cringed at the sound of his voice and took a breath. He straightened up and flashed Anthony an apologetic smile. "Apologies. I just don't want to talk about it right now."

Anthony nodded. "I understand. If you change-"

"You should speak to Sophie," Benedict interjected, making it apparent he really did not want to speak of it further. "At least try to get to know your future…wife, brother. You might find you actually like being around her."

"I'm not purposely avoiding her," he replied. "And I never said I did not like her. My duties-"

"Are the same duties our father had when he became a viscount, and it never prevented him from spending time with mother. Or with us," Benedict reminded with an exasperated sigh. "He was able to balance his duties and his family quite well. Meaning it is possible for you to do the same."

Anthony hated that Benedict was right. When he was alive, their father had spent almost every waking moment of the day in the company of their mother or with Anthony and his siblings. The only time Anthony remembered him being away from home was if he was called to the House of Lords. But even then, his father had hated leaving them, only staying away from home for a few nights as long as he needed to.

"You know I'm right," Benedict added, having read his mind.

Anthony sighed, shaking his head. He sighed. "Alright, yes. Yes, you are."

He should speak with Sophie. He couldn't ignore that he had left her in the company of his mother and sisters these past few days so that he did not need to worry about her. It wasn't that he saw her as a nuisance; Sophie seemed to be actively trying not to be a bother to anyone whenever she was around them; Anthony just did not feel the need to. The marriage was set to happen, and once an heir was produced, the Bridgerton lines guaranteed, they could go their separate ways.

But maybe they could at least be friends. And being on good terms with his future wife would make his life much easier.

Daphne was also going to escort the Sharmas around the grounds with Simon, giving them a tour of Aubrey Hall. He wouldn't have to deal with Kate distracting him.

Distracting? She wasn't distracting. She was a nuisance (unlike Sophie). A horrid, annoying pain. One that riled him up to no end. Constantly arguing and debating him. On everything. In every conversation they had so far, she had always had a deferring opinion to him, and she would make apparent that hers was the correct one. At times he wondered if she was purposefully disagreeing with him on topics just to anger him.

It didn't anger him, though. It excited him. Some tiny part of him relished in the sight of her. His heartbeat increasing whenever her sharp, dark brows furrowed as she glared at him. Or when she would smirk smugly after leaving him speechless or stuttering a response. Challenging him.

He hadn't felt like this when he was with Sienna, and he certainly did not feel it when he spoke to Sophie. Which, as Benedict pointed out correctly, had only been a few times.

Now that he thought about it, he really should at least give Sophie a chance.

"I suppose you're right," he told Benedict again, taking a deep breath. "Besides, I still have to give her mother's engagement ring. Might as well check to see if it needs to be resized."

Mind now set; Anthony didn't notice the pained expression that crossed his brother's face as he left the room, as he referenced the engagement ring he needed to grab. How, once the door was shut, Benedict immediately turned towards the table and poured himself another glass of whiskey. His shoulders slumped before he downed his drink, annoyed with himself for still not coming to terms with what was happening. For giving advice.

He had other matters to attend to.

<+>

Anthony found Sophie in the parlor with his mother and his sisters. They seemed to be talking about the wedding. Well, Francesca, Hyacinth, and his mother were. Eloise looked bored about the topic, wanting to discuss something else, and Sophie was just politely nodding and agreeing with all that was being said.

"Apologies, but I need a moment with Miss Beckett," he told them.

None of them moved. They all stared up at him in silence.

"Is that alright?" he added, frowning at his sisters.

He then got varying degrees of loud, exasperated sighs, and mutterings of annoyances from his sisters as their mother ushered them all quickly from the room, leaving her spot on the settee for a chair by the table on the other end of the room. She picked up her latest embroidery project and began working on it, sparing a few sneaky glances toward Anthony as he sat next to Sophie.

"Is everything alright?" Sophie asked.

"Yes, I just had something I needed to give you," he told her, reaching into his pocket.

He pulled out the ring box he’d grabbed from his office, carefully opening it as he held it out towards her, showing the pearl ring his father had once given his mother.

"Oh! It's beautiful," Sophie told him politely.

"It was my mother's ring," he informed her off-handedly.

Sophie's eyes widened, and she quickly shook her head, motioning with her hand for him to take it away. "I couldn't possibly take it–"

"It's fine, I assure you," Anthony returned. He gently plucked the ring from the case and held it out toward her. "My mother always intended for me to give this to my bride, even when I was little. I thought it best to bring it to you now that you are here, and the announcements have been made."

It was enough to stop Sophie from arguing with him. She reached out with her left hand to take the ring from him and put it on herself, but Anthony only took it himself. She wore no gloves today, making it easier for him to just simply slide the ring onto her finger.

"Does it fit?" he asked.

Sophie held her hand out in front of her, studying the ring. She squeezed her hand into a tight fist a few times. Anthony could see her thin, long fingers were too small, the metal band poking up whenever she made a fist and loosely spinning around when she spread out her fingers.

He should have seen it as a sign.

"It's a little big," she finally admitted.

"We can have it resized," he assured her.

Carefully, Sophie slid the ring off her finger, handing it back to him. "I would prefer if it stayed in the box till then, so it does not become lost. If that's alright?"

He nodded, preferring as well that his mother's ring remains safely protected in his office until the time for the wedding came.

With the ring safely tucked back into its box, Anthony was unsure what to say next. And Sophie's quiet personality meant she was just as chatty as he was. He had no idea what to ask her, realizing he didn't know what she liked. What her interests were besides reading or mathematics. Did he even ask what her favorites were when they first met? He couldn’t remember.

Awkward silence returned to the room, with his mother mouthing at him to speak to Sophie whenever he glanced in her direction, looking at him like a child.

"And are you enjoying Aubrey Hall? I know it's no Penwood Park–" he started.

"Oh no, it's lovely," Sophie quickly assured him, shaking her head. "The grounds are beautiful."

"Well, I would get used to spending more time outside then. My family can get rather loud when we are all together. I suppose having all this space around us helps when trying to find some quiet," he informed her.

She giggled quietly at that. "I don't mind the noise. It makes this place more…homey. Penwood Park gets rather quiet whenever Lord and Lady Penwood are away."

"Did they leave you alone often?" Anthony asked, frowning.

"His lordship had many business matters he had to attend to, and Lady Penwood prefers the city," Sophie replied.

That hadn't answered his question.

"She didn't take you with her?" he asked, wanting to clarify. He remembered how Sophie had said she preferred the country. Now he wondered if that was by her own choice.

"It would be more expensive if I went with them. And then Rosamund had her seasons. Lady Penwood was very focused on that. I'd just be in the way," Sophie replied with a shrug as if it was nothing.

Anthony frowned. "Still, it seems rather unfair for you to be left behind."

He was one of eight; somehow, it always felt like his family went everywhere together. Yes, Gregory was now at Eton for most of the year, Hyacinth was still too young for the balls, and Daphne was married; it felt wrong for one of them to just be left behind or excluded. Compared to his own upbringing, Sophie's sounded lonely. He couldn’t imagine what it would have been like to have been an only child.

He was going to ask her more questions, to gather more information from her. Across the room, even Violet looked concerned by what she’d just overheard.

"Your sister told me we are to play Pall Mall," Sophie told him suddenly, shifting the conversation away from herself before he had a chance to ask another question. "I do not believe I have ever played before, but from how it sounded, you and your siblings seem to be experts on the game."

"It's an annual tradition," he informed her. "Every year, we have a competition to see who’s the best."

"You all must enjoy playing it then,” Sophie said back.

"It can get rather competitive, but it's all in good fun," Anthony told her. At the table nearby, Violet scoffed. Anthony ignored his mother, knowing it was directed at him. "I'm certain you'll be able to keep up. It's nothing too complicated. Just getting the balls through the wicket."

"And whoever gets their ball through them all first wins?" she asked, and he nodded. "Any tips?"

At her table, Violet raised a brow, watching Anthony. He was fully aware of his competitive nature and how he got when he was playing Pall Mall with his siblings. He was sure she believed he would not help Sophie, not wanting his fiancée to beat him.

"Keep an eye on Daphne," he told Sophie. "She won last year and intends to do it again. Francesca can also be pretty sneaky, but if she sits out again like she did last year, you won't have to worry about her."

"And what about you?" she asked. "From how Daphne put it, you tended to be the most competitive out of your siblings."

"She said I'm competitive?"

"I think she said you were a cheat, actually," Sophie smiled her sweet-natured smile as she spoke.

"I do not cheat," Anthony immediately told her, getting defensive. Violet scoffed. Again.

But Sophie giggled. "I feel it may be you who I need to keep an eye on."

She was smarter than she let on, Anthony realized. There was more intelligence than he'd initially thought. He also got a sense she could be sneaky if need be. A tease if pushed. For all he knew, she could be lying about never playing Pall Mall. Simon had once said it was the quiet ones you needed to keep an eye on.

"I will keep that in mind," he returned jokingly. "But you'll have to keep up with me for that plan to work."

"I think I can manage," she replied.

There was more to her than Anthony had initially thought. Her lovely and kind disposition was, frankly, infectious. He couldn't help but smile back at her, which only helped her relax. Her stiff posture dropped, and her smile only widened, as if she was getting more comfortable being around him. Maybe he could gauge her personality better if he spoke to her more.

Damnit. He hated when Benedict was right.