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1
“You know, he was not always like this.”
“Hm?” Kate says, eyes snapping to her guest, away from the street-facing window, where she can see Anthony return, expecting him any moment.
“So… open, so happy. Not many of us can recall when we last saw him so.”
Kate purses her lips. “I beg your pardon, Your Grace, but I do not understand what you mean.”
Daphne tilts her head and smiles, bangs framing her face, her curls sweeping across her back. “Anthony is a different person around you.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
Daphne sets her teacup down with a clatter. “You– you cannot see it, can you? The difference.”
Kate shakes her head. “I truly do not know what you mean.”
Daphne smiles, a little sad, a little happy. “I am glad you do not. Anthony was not always the man he is today. Many of us credit you as the reason for his change.”
“I cannot have made such a change in his character. Whoever he is with me is who he has always been, in some way, is that not so?”
“Lady Bridgerton,” Daphne says, and Kate cannot help but smile, feel her heart flutter, because she cannot get used to the title, cannot get used to the idea that Anthony is hers and that she is his, “there are few souls living who know the Anthony Bridgerton you have brought back. He has not been like this since before our father passed.”
Kate frowns and ends the pretense of drinking her own cup of English tea. “Your Grace, I would appreciate it if you could be a little more straight-forward with me. I’m still not understanding you. My husband has been who he always has. I have never known him to be a different man.”
“Before you, I do not think the older children in my family could remember the last time Anthony had laughed, truly laughed. Sometimes, there were heartfelt smiles with the youngest two, but not the rest of us. And yes, he could give obliging chuckles, but nothing unfettered, not the way he laughs with you.”
“Your Grace, he is usually laughing at me,” she tells Daphne. She does not share with Daphne what hearing Anthony’s laugh does to her, no matter if the laughter is aimed at her or not; she does not tell Daphne that every time she hears that laughter, she wants to laugh too, wants to pour it all out, because this happiness right now? She never thought it would be– could be hers. Years in Bombay, in India– she never thought someone could love her the way Anthony seems to love her.
Daphne frowns. “Oh, bother, Kate, I really wish you would stop calling me ‘Your Grace’. Daphne, please. We are sisters.”
Kate purses her lips together as she smiles, all in an attempt to keep it sedate, a more proper smile for a duchess. “I will try, Your Grace.”
Daphne sighs and rolls her eyes. “Just promise me you will not call my husband by his name. Simon and I are betting on who will receive the privilege first.”
Kate blinks. “Pardon?”
“We like you enormously, Kate. We like you for who you are, but also for the change in Anthony. Simon knew him best, from their school days. Simon recalls how he was. He wanted to pass on his thanks as well, for bringing back his oldest and dearest friend.”
“Oh, Your Grace, if you want to beat your husband at this bet, you will have to do more than ask me to call you by name. Your husband has already attempted several bribes. You are only lucky in that he has nothing I want.”
Daphne’s jaw drops, then she huffs, and her mouth opens and shuts a few times, no words emerging. “I will—I will—”
“Punish him, I hope,” Kate says, laughing, and picks up her teacup for a sip of the nonsense English tea.
Daphne shuts her mouth and tosses her head. It’s a regal gesture, and Kate is impressed despite herself. She sees the duchess in her sister-in-law, but she also sees the younger sister standing beneath the trees, teaching them Pall Mall, and crowing over a poor shot by Colin. “His Grace will soon regret trying to pull one over me.”
Kate smiles, sips the cooling tea, and then there is the creak of the door as someone enters the room. Daphne turns on her chaise to see who it is, but rolls her eyes and returns to her former position when she sees it is just Anthony, who makes a beeline for his wife, eyes not leaving Kate’s face.
“I missed you,” he says, with a smile, pressing a kiss first to the apple of her cheek, one closer to her nose, and then a final one to her mouth. When he pulls away, Kate cannot help the sigh that slips from her mouth, and she watches his Adam's apple bob and his tongue dart out to lick his lips.
“I wonder if Simon and I were ever as bad as you two. I cannot imagine it so, but it is a possibility.”
Kate tugs his arm, and Anthony takes his seat next to her easily, pulling her arm into the crook of his, holding her hand with two of his. He takes his eyes off Kate for but a moment to shoot an unhappy glance at his sister.
“I prefer not to think about those days too deeply, I’m afraid,” Anthony says. Kate shifts a little closer, because if she sits closer, she can feel the vibration of him speaking. One of his hands lets go of hers, and then she feels his arm sliding around her waist. She looks down at their entwined hands, smiling, trying not to look up at him, but somehow unable to resist the look.
As Kate suspects, he is still looking at her, a soft smile turning full-blown when he catches Kate’s eye once more. He presses a kiss to her temple, another to her hairline, and is interrupted by Daphne.
“Kate, this is what I mean. I have not seen my brother smile so much in a very long time.”
Anthony’s smile turns into a frown. “What are you talking about?”
“Nothing of importance,” Kate says, using her free hand to pat the hand holding hers. “I believe Her Grace was on her way out?” She turns to Daphne with a raised eyebrow.
Daphne raises her eyebrows in response. “I have yet to tell you how Augie is doing,” she says, and Kate can tell she’s about to launch into a long-winded story that will prevent Kate and Anthony from absconding to their bedroom, where she knows they both want to be.
“Daphne,” she says, “how about coming by again, tomorrow morning? We can continue discussing Augie then.”
For a moment, Daphne just blinks at her, then laughs. “Oh, I do like you, Kate,” she says and stands. Anthony, ever the gentleman, stands as well; Kate follows suit, because she knows she will not be remaining in their drawing room for long.
“What was that about?” Anthony whispers to her as they follow Daphne to their entrance, where a maid is passing Daphne’s belongings along.
“Nothing to concern you, my lord.” Kate knows he’s clenching his jaw, but now Daphne is gone, so she takes a couple stairs up the front staircase, and gives Anthony a look, taking her dress and lifting the hem, showing her stockinged ankles; Anthony has seen her all before, but she knows he likes her when she’s daring.“Now, are you sure you want to continue discussing your sister?”
“No,” he says, nearly growls, and then chases her up the rest of the stairs, laughing a little when, in her haste, Kate slips on a stair. He helps her stand, but he is still laughing, still smiling, wide and open, and Kate doesn’t understand what Daphne was talking about. He is always like this around her, even when they didn’t properly know each other, when they both acted as though they hated each other. He is always like this.
2
The Danbury estate is much unchanged, though Kate’s not sure what she was expecting. Would Lady Danbury change the landscape, replace the roses with peonies, or rebrick the exterior, because Kate was gone? She wants to laugh at herself, but finds herself laughing for joy when Edwina runs up to her carriage, too eager to wait inside for her.
“Didi!” she exclaims. “You have returned! I have missed you!”
“You could’ve visited me at Aubrey Hall,” Kate tells her, stretching out her arms for Edwina to give her a tight hug, a sisterly hug.
“And interrupt your time with Lord Bridgerton?” Edwina raises an eyebrow, disengaging from the embrace. “Actually, it’s not so much I didn’t want to interrupt you two, as I simply did not want to see you two together.”
Edwina turns and enters the manor; Kate trails behind, frowning. She hands her reticule to the footman and then continues to follow Edwina up the stairs, to the main drawing room. “What do you mean? Does everything that happened before still bother you?”
Edwina gives her a look over her shoulder, pausing on the stairs. A few steps are between them, and the sisters are more of a height. “I am not sure if it is love blinding you, or if you are acting ignorant.”
“I–Edwina, I do not understand.”
Edwina sighs and resumes taking the stairs. Mary and Lady Danbury are already taking tea there, the former doing needlework and the latter reading the paper.
“Kate!” Mary exclaims, putting her hoop aside to hug her eldest.
“Lady Bridgerton,” Lady Danbury says with a sly smile and knowing tilt of her head. “Did you enjoy your honeymoon?”
Kate’s face warms, and she shrugs as nonchalantly as she can. “It was acceptable. I had some quality tea for the first time since I originally left India.”
Lady Danbury laughs, Mary resumes her seat, and Kate and Edwina sit next to each other on the nearby chaises. “Now, I want you to explain what you meant, earlier,” Kate whispers, linking their arms together and leaning close.
“The two of you, when together, are obnoxious. I don’t necessarily enjoy the sickening way the two of you are together. You are my sister, Kate! And he is now my brother. The way he leans and whispers to you– ah, you just do not understand, because he was always like that with you.”
“Was he not–was he not… similar, with you? Tender, and so on?”
“Oh,” Edwina says with a laugh, “he was attentive, and he gave me some very nice smiles, but not like the smiles he gives you. Not like the smiles since you two got married. I could say the very same about you, even.”
Kate bites her lip. “Bon…”
“Tell me more about your honeymoon,” Edwina says, reaching for the tea service and preparing a cup for her sister.
Kate takes the saucer and cup and has a small sip. Then, a longer sip. “Edwina,” she says. “What is in this tea?”
Edwina smiles at her, eyes twinkling. “I found a merchant who sells cardamom and cloves.”
Kate sets her cup down on her saucer loud enough that both Mary and Lady Danbury turn to them in startlement. Seeing that nothing is amiss, they return to their conversations. “Bon, you must share the merchant with me. I brought back spices from my honeymoon, but I know my store will need replenishing sooner rather than later.”
“Of course I will share with you. I wouldn’t tease you so.”
Kate takes another sip of tea and lets the beloved taste of chai wash over her tongue. While expecting regular English tea, the unexpected addition of spices make this cup one of the very best she’s ever had.
“Oh, Kate,” Edwina says, setting her saucer aside and grasping her sister's arm. “I don’t believe I have ever seen you this happy.”
“Hmm?” Kate says, putting her cup and saucer on the table like Edwina.
“You and Lord Bridgerton— I am just so happy for the two of you. The both of you have changed since you have married. Didi, I have only seen you for a few minutes since your return, but I can tell. I can tell that you are happier and a changed woman.”
Kate feels the burning start at her neck and then sweep across her cheeks. She is only grateful that Edwina cannot tell she is flushing. “Changed?” she asks, trying for casual and only vaguely interested. She also tries not to think about all the different things Anthony has taught her since their wedding; she tries not to think about learning some of the ways a lady can be seduced.
“Oh, I’m not sure,” Edwina says, still grasping Kate’s hand. “I am just so happy, for the both of you. Yes, your road here was bumpy, but that doesn’t make me any less happy for you.”
“Why don’t you tell me about Prince Friedrich?” Kate asks. “I’ve heard rumor that he is in town.”
Edwina laughs, that beautiful, tinkling sound. “I know you are just trying to change the subject because you dislike being the topic so, but I shall let it slide.”
Kate gives Edwina a flat smile, but she’s not wrong. Kate does dislike being the subject of conversation, which makes her worry about how she will do as Viscountess Bridgerton. Then again, Kate thinks as Edwina starts to prattle about her prince, Anthony has assured her more than enough times that she will be perfectly fine. He said that anyone who can handle the Bridgerton family is more than up to the challenge of handling the ton.
3
Kate is promenading with some of her newer family members in the park, and Anthony is to join them soon. She knows that; she knows that Anthony is just off attending a House of Lords meeting, and that he will be with them shortly, but she cannot help but crane her neck in search of him every thirty seconds. Benedict makes some joke, causing Colin and Eloise to laugh, and Kate doesn’t even recall what the joke was. Most likely, at one of his siblings' demise, but she can’t find it in herself to care. All she cares about is her husband's return to her side, where he belongs.
What she does not miss, though, is how the three Bridgertons accompanying her gasp when she nearly trips over a stone on the grass. Colin, the brother walking closest to her, has reached out to grab her, holding awkwardly onto her arm, and Benedict is half-stepped forward, alarm in his face. Eloise is grimacing.
“It was a pebble,” she says, confused. “Not–not something to be so distressed over.”
Colin lets go of her arm with an awkward laugh. “Well, to some, perhaps.”
The three siblings try to continue walking on, but Kate does not move. “What does that mean?”
Benedict and Eloise share a glance over their joined arms. “I don’t know how to tell you this,” Benedict says, disengaging from Eloise to join arms with Kate. “But Anthony was a bear when you were…unwell, earlier, before your marriage.”
His steps force Kate into walking as well, Benedict taking shorter steps to match her pace. “I beg your pardon, but I’m not at all sure what you could mean. He was no different to me.”
Colin soon takes Eloise’s arm, and they are walking as two pairs. “That’s because it is you, sister. Anthony is a changed man after meeting and marrying you. And when you were ill, it was like the harder Anthony was back. None of us wish for that.”
“He never apologized for that either, did he?” Eloise asks, giving Colin a nudge with her elbow. “Not that he’s the type to apologize.”
Kate frowns. Anthony had apologized to her just that morning, kissing her softly, face lingering, over the dining table, murmured sorry’s that he would be out most of the day attending House of Lords business, but that he would hurry to return to her side. She had been dizzy with his kisses, a surprise attack from him, and hadn’t the time for a proper rebuttal. But he had apologized to her, for something as simple as performing his duties.
“He apologizes,” she says.
Eloise snorts, and Colin rolls his eyes. “Once again, that is because of you. He mistook one of my travel diaries for one of the estate journals and apologized. I was so surprised I couldn’t say anything.”
She shakes her head. “I am thinking,” she says, looking at Colin and Eloise, and then to Benedict at her side, “that perhaps you three just don’t know your brother that well.”
“I have known him all my life,” Benedict says, “and he has not been this way since we were young boys.”
“Since father, isn’t it?” Eloise asks, lifting a hand to shade her eyes as she looks up at her brother.
Kate cannot help the way her lips push together, thinking of Edmund Bridgerton, and the way loss and grief might have poisoned Anthony. That’s what they do, those two emotions; Kate is well aware of her own change, how one day her own Papa was okay, but then the next– a snake bite, the doctors had said, and Kate held Mary as she sobbed, tucked Edwina into bed that night, gave the news to the royal family her Papa was secretary for, then organized the household move. Anthony, Kate has gathered, did much the same for his own family.
“Grief is terrible.”
“Grief can change a person,” Colin says. “Are you… acquainted with loss, Kate?”
She nods her head, small ups-and-downs, but doesn’t say anything.
“Grief changed Anthony.”
Kate doesn’t respond; she has spotted Anthony, her eye drawn to his form over the crowds along the Serpentine. He hasn’t spotted her yet, and she grins as she sees him duck his head in greeting to couples and other families walking by. He gets stopped and pulled into a conversation with Lady Goring, and she giggles as she sees the quick nodding that indicates his impatience. He still smiles, though, and Kate redirects their path so they walk past his line of sight.
Joy washes over his face, and she bites her lip as she continues to grin. That look is her favorite, the wide smile, the crinkled eyes. It is her favorite right after his frown of exasperation with her because she is, once again, not listening to him. Her steps quicken as they approach, and Benedict lets go of her arm with a pat.
“Go ahead,” he tells her, and she slips away to dash towards her husband.
4
Dinner is over, and the ladies are gathered in the drawing room while the men have withdrawn for drinks in another. Edwina and Mary are both present, but they are talking with Francesca and Eloise, which leaves Kate with Violet. Kate does not know what to make of her mother-in-law. She still remembers, so very clearly, the night they had dinner with the Sheffields. She remembers the disappointment and the disapproval, and they both weigh heavily upon her.
“My dear,” Violet says as she takes the seat next to Kate. “It is so very good to have you and Anthony back.”
Kate smiles, or, rather, she gives a facsimile of a smile. She would rather be back on her honeymoon, or, quite seriously, anywhere else than next to Violet. “It is good to be back.”
“I doubt that,” Violet says, laughing, a twinkle in her eye so like Anthony’s that Kate’s smile turns much more genuine.
“You are right,” Kate admits, sighing dramatically and popping her shoulders up and down. “It was so good to get away and relax. I can only hope that not too much work has piled up for Anthony in his absence.”
“Oh,” Violet says, with a slight wave of her hand. “I am sure there is not too much. Our various stewards are quite good and trustworthy.”
Kate opens her mouth for a pause before closing it. After Violet looks at her askance, Kate says what is on her mind. “That does not mean anything if Anthony has to make all the final decisions. Was there no one to meet with them one-on-one? Were the stewards signing off on all payments?”
Violet’s mouth is now the one to open, but just for a moment before she speaks. “I am impressed, Kate. You seem quite familiar with… land management.”
Kate straightens her posture, eyes drifting to Mary. Her step-mother laughs at that moment, and she feels her heart soften. “When my appa, my father, when he passed, I was in charge. My mama did her best, but I was always better at sums and dates than she.”
“If you don’t mind my asking, how old were you when he passed?”
“Eighteen, my lady.”
“Please, do not call me that, but call me Violet.”
“Oh, my lady, I could never,” Kate says, truly aghast. She has no problem referring to any of the other Bridgerton women by their name, but her mother-in-law? She feels less qualms about calling the Duchess of Hastings by her given name.
“After what you have done for Anthony, I truly feel you must call me by my name.”
Kate pauses. “I will try… my lady.”
Violet sighs and reaches out to pat Kate’s hand. “You know, you were the same age as Anthony was when my Edmund died.”
“I did not–I was not aware of that.”
Violet hums. “I suppose that is part of why you two are so similar.”
Kate ducks her head as she smiles. Hearing that always makes her so pleased, though she couldn’t really say why. She can see some of her worst and best traits in him. That other people can see the same things she sees just feels–special.
The conversation, poor though it is, hits a lull; Kate searches for a topic of conversation, but cannot think of anything good. Embroidery? Never something Kate had talent for. Languages, instruments? She is passable on the sitar and can muddle through on the pianoforte. It has been a long time since Kate came to terms that she will never be like Edwina.
“I’ve been meaning to thank you,” Violet suddenly says, breaking the silence. “For… For bringing my Anthony back. He is changed, since you two wed. I haven’t seen him laugh so often and so easily in many, many years. Not since Edmund died, I believe.”
Kate blinks. “Changed?”
“Yes.” Violet shifts, a hand going to rub anxiously around her neck and at her collarbone. “This is hard to talk about, so forgive me, but Anthony–he smiles like he once did, when a boy. He was lost, and you’ve brought him back to me.”
Kate’s eyes close, because something is welling up inside her, and she does not want to lash out. She does not want to lose her temper, not in this drawing room, not during the first real and honest conversation with her mother-in-law. Snippets of the conversation occurring on the other side of the room float by; they are discussing the next races, and who the favorites are. Kate takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, opens her eyes.
“Excuse me for saying this, my lady, but if you thought Anthony was lost, he was lost because his family did not search for him. I know,” she says, continuing on despite Violet’s mouth opening for a response, “because we are so much the same. I love my Mama, but I was not the same either, after my Appa died. If we are lost, it is because of circumstances out of our control.”
Violet has tears in her eyes, and Kate has to force herself to look away.
“If you feel like he has returned, I am glad for you. Truly and quite sincerely. But, my lady, I hope you think about how he became lost and what was done to help guide him back. You say I brought him back to you, but the Anthony we see before us today is the same Anthony I first met. I do believe he has always been there.”
“This is precisely what I mean,” Violet says, tone desperate, now reaching for Kate’s hand with both of hers. Her hands are tight on Kate’s, but Kate lets her hold on tightly as she watches a tear roll down Violet’s cheek. “You became his lighthouse, dear. I will never be able to thank you enough.”
Kate swallows and pats Violet’s hands with her free one. “Violet,” she quietly says, “he was not the only one lost.”
Another tear rolls down Violet’s cheek, and Kate searches for a handkerchief to offer, something to help tidy up, but can’t find anything. Instead, she reaches out with that free hand, and wipes away the tears with her thumb. “Please don’t cry,” she whispers. “Anthony and the others will be here soon. Do you want them to know?”
Violet shakes her head and visibly pulls herself together; Kate can see, in that moment, the previous Viscountess Bridgerton. She is more regal, more graceful and commanding than Kate had realized. The eyes are no longer watery, and Violet carefully dabs at her eyes to wipe away any final traces.
“How do I look?” she asks.
“Beautiful,” Kate says. “Like a Viscountess.”
5
Today marks a beautiful spring day, and one of the very first luncheon parties Kate hosts. Anthony assured her the preceding weeks that everything would be wonderful, that his mother would help make sure of it, that even Daphne, Duchess of Hastings and her sister-in-law, would make sure that the Viscountess’s very first social gathering would a grand success.
And yet, despite all these assurances, Kate does not feel any relief. People arrive just after noon, and Kate is as gracious as she can be, smiling at everyone. Anthony remains by her side, one arm around her waist, occasionally leaning in to whisper breathe into her ear. It tickles and arouses more than anything, but she will never tell him that. At one point, her obstinacy gets the better of her, and during a lull in her receiving line she tells him to leave.
Anthony looks wounded, but the hand around her waist goes to the nape of her neck and squeezes, light and gentle. “I will leave if you want me to,” he says. “Do you want me to leave?”
Kate almost makes a nod before shaking her head in the negative.
Anthony sighs, and his thumb presses soothing circles into the skin behind her ear. “We will get through this line, and then I will get you some lemonade and sandwiches.”
She nods and gives a smile to the next family coming through the door; eventually, everyone has arrived, and Kate takes the free moment to sit down on a nearby chair. She breathes deeply, and Anthony’s hand is on her back, his thumb a pressure down the divot of her spine. It helps, for a moment.
“Please leave,” she says, “I think I need a moment alone, right now.”
Anthony crouches down, so he can look up at her, hand now cupping her face. He searches her expression before nodding. “As promised, I will set aside your favorite sandwiches.”
“And lemonade.”
He smiles. “And lemonade.”
She nods, but takes his hand to press a kiss to his palm before he leaves. The gesture makes him pause before he finally takes his leave. When he’s gone, it is just Kate and the footmen standing at the doorways. She sighs and leans forward, resting her face in her hands. Kate has an idea as to what being a viscountess means, but the reality she’s now handling is different. Pressure is always different when experienced versus imagined.
A few more deep breaths, and Kate stands to return to the luncheon when Benedict comes through the front door, looking around the receiving room guiltily.
“Benedict,” Kate says, surprised. “I heard you were already here.”
He puts a finger to his lips, glancing around. “Is Anthony here?”
She waves towards the door leading to the outdoor terrace. “He’s out with the other guests.” Benedict nods, relief stealing across his face. “What’s going on? Is something the matter?”
Benedict presses his lips together in a quasi-smile, shaking his head. “No, nothing’s the matter. I had to duck out for… personal reasons, and I don’t feel like hearing a lecture.”
Kate frowns. “A lecture which you don’t think is deserved?”
Benedict shrugs, his mouth quirking into one of his more open grins showing teeth. “Not always. Anthony’s lectures are just boring…” He finally looks at Kate, and she must appear quite angry and upset, because he backtracks. “Anthony’s completely focused on duty to the Bridgerton name, and it has made him historically… difficult.”
“And his family,” she says. “Especially focused on his family.”
Benedict nods, almost reluctantly. “And to us.”
“And so what is so wrong with his attachment to duty? What is so wrong about it?” She is incensed, on her husband’s behalf, on her own behalf. Does his family truly think that little of him?
Benedict frowns, shoulders going up and arms spreading in a helpless gesture. “Nothing wrong, it just makes him thorny. It’s easier, now, with you.”
“There is nothing wrong with finding duty so important,” she says. “Is this what you think of him? Of your older brother?”
Benedict’s arms drop and cross over his chest. “I think he is fixated on what he believes he must do, whether or not it is right.”
“And what of the rest of your family,” Kate asks, taking a step closer to him. “Are the rest of you truly so blind to how he sacrifices for you?”
He sort of snorts, and Kate makes herself take a deep breath. “My brother,” Benedict says, “is not the sacrificial sort. In fact, he’s the most demanding man I know.”
She tosses her head, trying to gain control of her emotions. “Benedict, please, tell me— what responsibilities do you have?” Benedict opens his mouth to respond, but Kate holds a hand up, and he stays silent. “I don’t believe you’ve ever met the Bridgerton solicitor. Have you ever balanced the estate ledgers? Do you know what your sisters and mother spend on frocks and ribbons, or books? Do you read the papers daily, from three different sources, keeping track of political news or worthwhile investments? Tell me, Benedict, when was the last time you could not sleep for worry? Anthony slept poorly last night because he was worried about Hyacinth’s sniffle. Did that concern you at all?”
Kate is breathing fast when she finishes, and she finds she cannot look at Benedict and see Anthony’s face in his, in the laugh lines Anthony has too few of, in the way one corner of their mouth is always the first to curl. She cannot look at him and not feel overwhelmed with her love for her husband, for how he consumes her thoughts and feelings even more than before they were wed. She simply cannot—
“You are right,” Benedict says. “You are right that I did not worry about Hyacinth becoming ill. You are right that I don’t know the financial life of the Bridgerton estates, and that I could not tell you what the name of our solicitor even is. You are right, and that shames me.”
Her eyes dart to Benedict, eyebrows drawing together, approaching tears. “Pardon?”
Benedict’s lips press together, in a half-smile, half-commiseration expression. “Anthony is a hard man to understand, and I don’t think we, as his family, try to understand him. I apologize, Kate. Sister.”
Kate shakes her head. “I–I only wish you would not be so hard on him. He loves you all so very much, and it makes me upset when I hear one of you say something cruel about him.”
“I apologize, again. But, Kate, I wish you to see that you really have changed him. He is not– he is not the same. He is kinder, he smiles more easily, he listens better. Yes, he was always a good man, but he is better now, and it is because of you.”
“Thank you, for the kind words, Benedict, but I don’t quite believe that. Anthony—” She pauses, eyes fluttering, thinking of his eyes and his mouth and how his frame hovered over hers that morning, caged in by his arms, how her thighs rested on either side of his hips, and she swallows; Kate, instead, makes herself think of the roses he sent her when he was gone all day, and the tulips the day before that, how he periodically sends flowers and notes to Mary and Edwina, how he is quite the best man she knows while simultaneously being the number one vexation in her life.
“He is a contradiction, is he not?” Kate opens her eyes, tilts her head with a one-shouldered shrug. “Again, I thank you, Benedict, but I cannot claim such praise. Anthony, to me, is who he has always been: a generous and loving man, who wishes nothing but the best for his family.”
Benedict grins at her. “I am so glad he has you, Kate. You are a marvel.”
She laughs and turns away. “Now, may we return to the party? I am famished, and there is only so long Anthony will keep the sandwiches safe until my return.”
“My sister,” Benedict says, catching up to her and tucking her arm into the crook of his, “if you think Anthony would not give you the moon should you ask it of him, you are insane. He will keep your sandwiches safe.”
+1
Middle of winter, and Kate can barely stop shivering. Anthony keeps to her side like they are two magnets, like glue; he stays by her like she is the pages of a beloved book, and he the spine, holding her together. She dresses in the warmest furs and wools they have, and yet she shivers each morning and evening.
“India is different,” Anthony says, a bracket around her body, holding her tight to his warm body.
“India is warm,” she says. “India still has sunny days, even when it is chilly.”
He smiles. “Well you, my dear, must become accustomed to dreary England winters.”
She huffs and rolls onto her other side so she won’t have to see his face. “I do not wish to. We should simply winter in India, or somewhere warm. I hear Spain has lovely winters.”
Anthony kisses the back of her head, then shifts her hair to kiss the back of her neck; his lips are uncomfortably cold. She squirms and sits up in their bed to glare at him. “Don’t do that.”
He shifts, an arm going behind his head, and she doesn’t understand how he can sleep without proper clothing in this freezing weather, as his torso is exposed to her gaze. The firelight catches on his chest hair and gilds his body. She tilts her head, watching him, and when he trails a finger down his chest she jerks her gaze away to meet his own and his smug smirk.
“See something you like, Viscountess?”
She sniffs, looking away, hair sliding across her back, some of the curls sliding over her shoulder. “No. I simply cannot fathom how you are not freezing.”
“My wife keeps me warm.”
There’s a gentle tug, and she turns back to Anthony to find him staring at her hair, now wrapped around his fingers. He is intent on the strands, combing through them with his fingers, and her breath catches when he presses a kiss to the ends, eyes closed, reverent. She cannot breathe for a moment; he opens his eyes just to flick a look at her, eyelids low, lust pooling between them once again.
Kate swallows and reaches out just to pinch him. “You are being particularly vexing this morning.”
Anthony just grins at her, tension still between them, like all those months ago when all they could do was look at each other, but now the tension is at rest. “Lay back down with me, Viscountess, and let me keep you warm.”
“I wager you have a great deal more in mind than you let on, my lord.”
He tugs on her hair, still wrapped around his fingers. “Always.”
His gaze returns to her hair, taking more strands and twisting the hairs between his fingers, the earlier smile still on his face, surely without him even realizing. She lays back down, Anthony letting go of her hair so she can rest on his bicep. She cuddles close to him, his skin warm on her cheek.
“Anthony,” she says quietly. In the new position, Anthony still has free access to her hair, and he is once again looping strands between his fingers. “I want to ask you something.”
“Yes?”
“Since we married, so many have told me you’re different. That you’re happier, that you smile more. Is that really so… true?”
He shifts, hips moving, and her head moves along with his body. She throws an arm across his chest to keep him close, and a leg soon follows to drape across his legs, so Kate is nearly fully on top of him. His fingers continue to comb through her hair as they lay there, Anthony looking thoughtful and a little empty as he gazes towards the ceiling. Every now and then, his fingers get to her scalp, and he gives her a scratch, a little massage.
“I’m not sure,” he says. “If these people you speak of are my family, I’m sure it’s true. I know that I was more reckless, before I met you. Maybe I was less…” His gaze leaves the ceiling and trains on her. “I was less happy,” he says quietly. “I must’ve been, because I have never been as happy in my life as when you promised to marry me, and my life has only become happier since.”
Kate swallows. “I love you. Will you allow it?”
“I love you as well,” he murmurs, and then looks back to the ceiling. His gaze is less vacant than it was a moment ago, and there is a smile at the corner of his lips. She wonders if this one, too, is unintentional. Maybe that is what all these people have meant, that Anthony smiles without noticing, that before every smile was a performance, but now they are genuine and unfettered.
Maybe, when they say that Kate changed Anthony, what they mean is that she freed him. What they mean is that, for so long, Anthony has been tied to his responsibilities and had no avenue for joy, for respite. What they mean is that, finally, at long last, Anthony has found happiness and discovered how to live a full life.
Kate knows they must mean that, because that is exactly what Anthony has done for her. She has never felt more free and more herself, living a life that best suits her at his side.