Chapter Text
Edmund Bridgerton knew the following about girls:
- His mother was the best girl he would ever meet because she was funny and did things like stick her tongue out and play the flute, though not very well, and chase him around the house and not yell at him when he got his breeches dirty, which was what his father did.
- Girls liked flowers and talking and dresses and things that were pink. All his girl cousins liked pink. Edmund did not like pink.
- Girls did not like fun things like mud and bugs and jumping off high tree branches and frogs. Girls especially didn’t like frogs. Even his mother and Aunt Eloise and Aunt Hyacinth didn’t like frogs when they were surprised by one.
Edmund Bridgerton was very confident he knew everything about girls he needed to. And then he met Isabella Montgomery.
Miles had just found a fat, bluish grey frog with two large, dark spots on its back hiding the grass by where they were playing near the Serpentine. Edmund had been trying to catch a cricket when his brother apprised him of the discovery.
“Look! A frog!” Miles squealed excitedly, pointing at a spot in front of him.
Edmund jumped up from where he was crouching and moved beside his brother. “Where? I can catch it.”
“There! By the green thing and the brown thing!”
He huffed and rolled his eyes. “There are a lot of brown and green things. We are outside.”
“The big green leaf and the brown rock,” Miles pointed again.
The frog moved slightly and Edmund caught sight of it. He bit his bottom lip and focused on the amphibian. Slowly and quietly he extended his hands until they were hovering just above the animal. Then, moving swiftly and silently, he successfully captured it. “Got it!” The frog squirmed in his hands.
Miles reached out and ran a finger down the animal’s back, trying to pet him. “You don’t pet frogs,” Edmund said superiorly.
“Then what do you do with frogs?” Miles asked.
Edmund looked up, hearing a nearby voice growing louder. “...please remember that we don’t eat worms and it’s much too cold to go swimming…” He watched as a girl with curly hair and a little boy walked toward them. Then he had an idea and a mischievous grin grew on his face.
“I will show you,” Edmund said, ready to put his plan into action. “You call that girl over here. Don’t tell her about the frog. I will surprise her and then she will scream and we will laugh.”
Miles wrinkled his nose, “Will that be funny?”
“Yes! It will be like when Mother throws something and hits Father.”
“I like it when she does that,” Miles giggled.
“It will be like that but even funnier,” Edmund guaranteed.
“Okay. Should I do it now?”
“Yes,” Edmund replied, keeping a firm grip on the frog, which was wiggling quite a lot; he didn’t want it to escape before he could scare the girl.
“What should I say?” Miles asked.
“Just say, ‘Hello, girl! Come and look at this pretty pink flower!’ Girls love pink and flowers.”
Miles nodded and turned to call to the redhead who was trying to comb down her brother’s messy hair with her hands. “Hello, girl,” he waved and parroted , “Come and see this pretty pink flower!”
She tilted her head to the right, a chewed the corner of her lip in thought, brows furrowed. “Why do you think I would like to see a flower?” she said loudly. “I can see those all the time in our garden.”
Miles looked at Edmund to see how to proceed, but Edmund just looked confused. All girls like flowers and all girls like pink. Yet this girl doesn’t want to see a pink flower.
“There’s also a cricket!” Miles said spontaneously.
She began to close the distance between them, the other boy following close behind. “I do like crickets! They made a delightful chirp and can hop very far.”
“Delightful chirp?” Miles whispered to his brother under his breath. Edmund shrugged.
“Well?” She had arrived and was standing right in front of Edmund. Miles pressed his lips together tightly so as not to giggle. “Let’s see it then.”
Edmund quickly pulled the frog out from behind his back and held it over her head while it fought for freedom. She looked up at it, quizzically. Then after a second, her hazel eyes grew wide and she let out an excited squeal. Edmund, by this point, had moved the amphibian right in front of her face and was shaking the creature gleefully. He and Miles began giggling, Edmund very pleased with himself.
Then the oddest thing happened. The girl, who Edmund had thought to be upset, smiled widely and began to jump up and down, not in horror, but in excitement. Quite unexpectedly, she flung her arms around him and hugged him tightly. He didn’t know what to do; he suddenly felt nervous and his stomach had gone all squiggly. Before Edmund could process what was happening, the girl happily took the frog from his hands and planted a kiss on his cheek. Then she skipped away back towards her parents, leaving the two Bridgerton brothers behind her.
Miles grinned, obviously impressed. Edmund, however, just stood there, his mouth agape, wondering what had happened. His insides still felt like jelly and the spot on his cheek where she had pressed her lips was warm and tingly. He only could watch her copper curls bounce mesmerizingly as she bopped from adult to adult, happily showing them the frog.
“I don’t think you scared her,” Miles said to his still speechless brother.
Then she turned, looked at Edmund, and bellowed, “Boy! What is your name?” He tried to speak, but couldn’t find his voice. All he could do was stare at her.
Miles tugged his arm briefly, then ran up to the girl and responded, “His name is Edmund.”
The future viscount began walking back toward the gaggle of grown-ups and when he was close enough heard her say, “…Should I give him another kiss for saving Henry?”
Before he could ask himself if he did or did not want another kiss, her mother answered her.
“I think a thank you will suffice.”
“Thank you, boy!” she said to Edmund, who had stumbled over to his parents.
“He has a name,” her mother reminded her.
“Thank you, Edmund! You found Henry! We are friends now,” with that she hopped over and placed the frog in a lidded basket, leaving Edmund gazing at her, mouth still open.
“We should probably leave,” his father said to their friends. “We must put Colin in a carriage and I think Edmund might perish from the shock of his failed mischief.”
His Uncle Colin laughed. “If he is perishing from anything, it’s from being lovestruck. He’s completely moon-eyed; he doesn’t understand what is going on.”
Edmund, of course, did not hear any of this conversation. He was still fixated on the girl who was chatting with Aunt Eloise’s friend Penelope and another man. Before he knew it his father was dragging him towards his grandmother and away from the redheaded puzzle.
He was filled with questions and wondered if he should talk to his father or mother. He remembered Father mumbling a few days ago about not understanding women, so he would probably not be a good choice. He could ask Mother, who was a girl, but he thought his questions would best be answered by a boy, someone like him… someone like his Uncle Colin.
Edmund let go of his father’s hand to fall back and walk with his uncle.
“Uncle Colin?” he tugged on the blanket Colin was wearing to get his attention.
His uncle’s green eyes turned to look at him. “Yes?”
“Can I ask you a question?”
Colin smiled, “Of course.”
“Why did that girl... you know.”
“What?”
He dropped his voice to a whisper, “Kiss me?”
“I think she was happy that you found her frog.”
“Girls do not like frogs.”
“Maybe some girls don’t, maybe even most girls don’t, but Isabella must.”
“Isabella?”
“Yes, Isabella Montgomery, the girl.”
“Is that her name?”
“Yes.”
“That is a very nice name.”
His Uncle Colin smiled, “Yes, it is.”
Edmund’s face turned pink, “She is a very nice girl.”
“Is she?” Colin asked, amused.
He shrugged; he supposed he didn’t really know if she was nice. But hugging is a nice thing and she had hugged him. Then she had kissed him. His insides jiggled again at the memory.
“Uncle Colin, why…” he knew the question he wanted to ask, but wasn’t sure how to.
“Why what?”
“Why do when girls like Mother and Grandmama and Cousin Amelia kiss me I just feel normal, but when that girl kissed me it felt like worms were in my stomach?”
Colin chuckled, vexing Edmund, “Because she is a different kind of girl.”
His brows knitted together, “I don’t understand.”
“You will one day,” he grinned.
Edmund paused to think before asking his next question. “Do you get worms when Miss Penelope kisses you?”
Then his Uncle Colin stopped and looked at him, “I don’t… Miss Penelope has never kissed me.”
“Oh,” he pondered that for a moment. “Then when you kiss her?”
“I’ve never kissed her either.”
He was disappointed; he hoped for an answer. “Never mind, then.”
Colin looked at his nephew, “Sometimes when we like something our body lets us know in odd ways.”
“I didn’t like the kiss,” Edmund insisted. “It was awful.”
“Was it?”
“Yes,” he lied.
“Well, let us hope you are never subjected to it again.”
“Subjected?”
“Let’s hope it won’t happen again,” Colin clarified.
“Yes. Let’s.” But even as he said it Edmund, whose cheek still tingled, was secretly praying that it would.