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Anthony had stood on the docks that day, a little down from the ship he knew she was on, watching as her things had been loaded on board, watching as she herself departed the carriage, looking back over her shoulder, once more. A nearly longing look cast out at England for her mother and sister, never to set foot back on English soil again most likely, before she shook her head disappearing below decks. Anthony had watched her sail away until she was nothing but a spot on the horizon. Until his heart had shredded itself again and again and again on the broken pieces of the person he used to be that still resided in his chest.
It took him 14 seconds after her ship disappeared to realise that he didn’t care. That he’d made a mistake. That he didn’t care if his family name was in tatters, and he himself could never return to England, if the queen restored his reputation or not. He could bare anything, endure anything as long as Kate was at his side.
They were two sides of the same coin, halves of a whole. He’d felt it last night when he’d held her on the dance floor and her eyes had been begging him and he smile had felt warm against his chest. Say something. Say something and I won’t go. But he hadn’t. And now he might have lost her forever.
But not so. Because hadn’t he told her, that there was nowhere, no corner of the earth she could go to hide from this thing between them? And he’d been stupid enough to let her try but no more. No more would it be endured.
The front door banged open as he strode in, marching through into the drawing room while his mother looked up in surprise.
“Dearest, are you-?”
“I’m going to India.”
He had expected surprise, he had expected outrage, or shock, or scandal, anything other than the small smile that curled on his mother’s lips as she nodded. “Of course, darling. For how long will you be away?”
“For as long as it takes to bring back my wife.”
___________
It had taken him, far longer than he intended, to conclude his business, to make arrangements for the year at least he would be away, just the journey there and back would take that long, and he’d never been a very good sailor, but it would be worth it. In the end it would be.
He’d written her everyday, an address begged from her Mama with pleading eyes and his voice cracking. “I know, Lady Mary that I have caused immeasurable harm to your family, but I love Kate. I love your daughter, and I hope you allow me the opportunity to prove that I can be a man worthy of the affections that the most incredible woman, nay the most incredible person I have ever known.”
He poured his heart out, in those letters until tears soaked the pages and his ink smudged and he told her, that he was coming for her, that he was coming to bring her home to her family, and he never received a response.
But still. Five months later, he stood on the deck of a ship and watched London fade into the distance and he waited. Waited as the morning came and then the nights and he scribbled down thought after thought onto the pages, between bouts of sea sickness that never got any better, each one of them signed
His legs wobbled, when they docked in Bombay, his head swimming as he abandoned the small trunk he’d brought with him, desperately asking for direction to the address he had for her, pounding on the door, his voice shaking when the door opened.
“I’m looking for K-Miss Kate Sharma.”
The woman’s brow had furrowed, “There’s no one here by that name sir.”
Anthony’s heart had stopped, before it started beating double time, pounding in his ears, drowning everything out in his panic. No, she has to be here, I came here, I came all this way. “This is the address her mother gave me. She assured me it was accurate.”
“I’m sorry, Sir. There are many Sharmas in the region, perhaps you will find who you seek with one of them.”
Anthony had nodded, a little unsure what else to do, stumbling down away from the house, his head spinning and yet, rooted to the spot, as if something were holding him there.
And then he smelled it. the infuriating scent of lilies nearby. He whirled around, and sure enough, there she was. Just a few feet ahead of him, her back to him, head bowed but he could tell. He knew it was her, he could feel it, he’d recognise her everywhere and-
“Kate!” His feet were pounding against the road, sweat beading on his brow int he heat of the day as he jostled past people with apology after apology. “Kathani Sharma!”
Her head shot up, and slowly, slowly she turned, surprise etched on her beautiful face, so beautiful. Even more beautiful than he remembered, tears well in his eyes as her lips formed his name
Anthony?
And he couldn’t hold it in anymore as it burst from his chest, “I love you!”
And then he saw it, the reason her head had been bowed, she had something in her arms. No, not something, someone. A tiny Baby, cradled in her arms, barely months old and he couldn’t breathe, the ground rushing towards him before Kate’s arms shot to try and steady him, her voice full of panic.
“No no no! Anthony! Help! Please help us!”
And the last thing he remembered as it all went black was the woman who just before had claimed not to know her saying “Mrs Bridgerton?! Whatever is the matter?!”
___________
It had been a difficult journey, even more fraught than the one to Englands had been. Six months stuck in a tiny cabin, travelling alone this time but for Newton. No Mary or Edwina to entertain her, no one to talk to her or make her laugh when the wind whistled past and the sea grew rough.
She had looked back at London as she’d stood on the deck of the ship and imagined, just for a moment, that she could stay. That she could stay with her family and not be bothered when one day she’d read the news that Viscount Bridgerton had found a wife. That there would be nobody to interrupt this ceremony. No kangan to fall to the floor and distract him. Likely no thoughts of her at all. But she could not. It would be too painful, so she left. Looked away from the life she wanted and sat in the cabin until London disappeared into the distance and her tears littered her pillow.
Kate had tried to occupy herself at first, tried to sit on the deck of the ship and count the clouds as the passed over head, tried not to remember how the sky had looked in the country over the house she wished they stayed together, the family she wishes was partially hers. And they could have been.
He’d tried to ask her to marry him, hadn’t he? While he told her he’d taken liberties with her, and she’d shaken her head because her virtue had been something she’d given freely. He hadn’t taken anything from her. She had known that they could never be together, not with his near marriage to Edwina, but she’d wanted in that moment to give herself one night. One Night where she could pretend to be his, delude herself into thinking she was his wife. But when he’d offered it to her she’d known that marriage was a duty for him. And this one would destroy his family. So she’d run.
She sat in the cabin of the ship taking her hundreds of thousands of miles away wearing the clothes she’d stolen from him before she raced home, letting herself sit amongst his scent: masculine and powerful, but soft at the same time. Gentle. And she knows it will fade, in time, and she should save it for when she needs it, but what is there to be done now?
And then it starts.
She should have noticed her courses stop, she knows she should have, but she’d lost count of them, if she was honest, in the rush and the emotion of everything that had happened, and so: it is only when the nausea starts, every minute of every day that she knows.
And All she could do is cry. Cry and Cry for the child she will bare who will never know their father the same way she never knew her mother. Who will never know his soft smile, or the way his laugh sounded or the way it felt to be held by him. Would never know how she had loved him.
But her spine had stiffened, those six months on the ship, while her stomach swelled and she changed and she loved the tiny life her love had created. And she’d known that what she felt for the viscount, no, for Anthony. She’d loved the man, not his title. What she’d felt for him had not been for nothing. And by the time she departed in Bombay, she was ready.
She made her way through the city, her heart aching for the familiarity of it: went to the house, where a room had been advertised to let, and immediately, the housekeeper had eyed her suspiciously.
“Can I help you, Miss is it?”
Kate cleared her throat, she’d practiced this on the ship, again and again until it felt natural on her tongue, right down to the affectionate eye roll. “Mrs. I married in England. My husband has sent me home while he fights in France.”
“You, have family here?”
“Yes.” She didn’t even falter on the lie, because it wasn’t for her, it was for her child. For the only thing she would ever have of him. “But they have no room for a guest. I have money, and I plan to find work after the baby comes in a few months time.”
The housekeeper had given her a sharp look for a very long moment before she’d sighed. “Very well, Mrs…?”
She’d trailed off, waiting for her to fill in the space with her name. smith. She’d practiced that on the ship as well. Mrs Smith. Chosen for how nondescript it was, how many people in England bore that name, impossible to trace. She would be Mrs. Smith, and in a few months, when it would be feasible that she could pass off one of the letters Mary would send her as news from her husband: She would be a widow. But when she had opened her mouth, a different name came out. “Mrs Bridgerton. I’m Mrs. Bridgerton.”
She knew it was wrong, to take his name from him when he had only offered it from obligation, never the feelings she felt, but she couldn’t change it now. Couldn’t change the person she desperately wished in her heart she was. So she started her new life as Mrs Bridgerton.
She sent a letter to Mary, her address attached and when the time came to tell her, about the life inside her: she didn’t. If Mary knew she would drag Anthony to India and force him to marry her and it would be just as bad, stuck loving a man who couldn’t love her. So she stayed, and she waited for the postman to come every morning to ask if he’d any letters for the house. Snatching the ones addressed to Miss Kate Sharma before anyone could see them.
And one day. God, one day. One arrived from him. From the man whose wife she pretended to be while his child grew inside her, stronger by the day. Tears clouded in her eyes as she stared down at it, sat in the chair in her room, the envelope resting on her stomach, his child kicking at its father’s handwriting. And she couldn’t bring herself to open it. Not even when they arrived in bundles. She could not. Not ready to hear what he would say. That he’d married, that he loved another, that he was ready to forget her. She could not read it.
And then the baby came.
She remembered when Mary had delivered Edwina: Soft screams for a few hours and done. Maybe her memory had dulled, softened by childhood but this was not like that. She had always been weak, she knew, begged for attention for love from anyone who would stand close enough to her but this was another sort of weakness. When she ached, and cried and screamed and prayed for him to come. For Anthony to burst down the door and save her. But he did not come. In the morning, his son did.
She’d wondered about the baby, of course she had, what it would look like, a girl or a boy, and in her heart she’d hoped for a boy. A boy who’d grow handsome and strong like his father, whose smile would steal hearts and his hair would curl just so on his forehead. Edmund she would call him. For the father Anthony had loved so desperately and never grieved openly. And so Edmund Bridgerton II was born. Named for his father and hers.So beautiful she could cry, did cry, her heart bursting with love. The boy who in a kinder, Better world would be a viscount. Now a Governess’ son.
She had been out. Running errands, Edmund bundled in her arms as he always was, Kate too weak to be without him, to be away from him. The tiny piece of Anthony she still had, returning home in the heat of the day when she heard it
“Kate!” She barely heard it at first, thought she’d been hallucinating likely, her mind showing her the voice she had wanted so desperately to be here.
“Kathani Sharma!”
Her head shot in the direction of it this time, unable to help herself. God how long had it been since anyone had called her that. And there he was. Anthony, Ninth Viscount Bridgerton hurtling down a street in Bombay with no coat on, his shirtsleeves rolled hair wild.
“Anthony?”
He was right in front of her, his shoulders heaving as he fought for breath, his eyes wild as they raked over her face. “I love you!”
Her mouth fell open in surprise, her mind racing, struggling to put together the pieces as Anthony’s own eyes widened, his eyes falling on Edmund, and he started falling, panic rising in her own chest as she darted forward, trying desperately to support his weight and keep them upright.
“No no no! Anthony!” She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but desperately try to support them “Help! Please help us!”
The housekeeper heard the ruckus, throwing open the door, her eyes wide, “Mrs Bridgerton?! Whatever is the matter?!”
Anthony’s eyes rolled back in his head, and his entire body went limp. Edmund was wailing, unsure, terrified of being jostled so much, panic rising in Kate’s chest, wheeling around, looking for someone to carry him.
“Sir, please, please help us carry him inside.” The man nodded, staring curiously at Anthony, at them both, at her panic but he hauled him to his feet as Kate whirled around, “Mrs. Varma, please fetch the doctor for him, please.”
“He was here a short while ago, asking for a Miss Sharma.”
Kate’s heart was pounding in her chest, her shoulders heaving as she said, “He’s my husband. That’s my maiden name, he told me to use it here.”
She was inventing wildly of course, but Mrs Varma seemed not to care, seemed to think there was no harm in it.
“Mrs? Where do you want him?” The man said gruffly, staggering under Anthony’s tall frame, and Kate tried to think no more of it as she showed the man to her room.
“It’s a bump to the head, Mrs Bridgerton, nothing more. He will awaken soon.”
The doctor had said, but that had been hours ago and there was still no movement.
Kate couldn’t stop staring at him, her mind racing. He looked just the same, if a little care worn, with dark circles under his eyes, a little thinner, paler even than he had then.
She’d never expected him to come, even if she’d had dream after dream where he found her, swept their child into his arms and showered them both with love: She’d known he wouldn’t come. And yet, here she was, unconscious on her bed while Edmund slept soundly in her arms.
Kate stood slowly, letting her hands trace over his face, just as she had that night, when those lips had moved against hers and she’d wanted. Her heart pounding in her chest as she left him, walked to her wardrobe and took out the bundle of letters he’d written to her. page after page he’d scrawled out in his masculine, cramped, hand and for the first time, she opened one.
They were all the same. Signed the same, the same declaration. Some were short.
Some were pages and pages where he told her of the dreams he had for their future together, raising their children on his estate and by the end of the bundle, she could barely breathe
Her shoulders heaved as tears ran down her face, sobs wracking her body as she clutched her son to her chest, heart pounding painfully for the man in the bed who-
“Kate, please don’t cry.”
The man who was awake.
A shuddering gasp left her body as she darted forward, her hand reaching for him of its own accord, cupping his cheek as his eyes burned into his.
“Are you alright?” Her voice was shaking, as Anthony’s eyes fluttered closed at her touch, his hand covering hers.
“I’ve never been better than in this moment.”
“What are you doing here?” She knew, she’d read his letters, but something in her needed to hear him say it.
“I came to find you.” His shoulders heaved with a shuddering breath as he pressed his forehead to hers, “I love you, Kate and I never should have let you go. I have loved you from the first moment I saw you, and I have loved you every day since and I will keep on loving you until I have no more tomorrows to give you. I have never been a perfect man, but I will strive every day to be someone that you could be proud to stand beside and call your husband. I will give you the life you deserve, Kate. I want to spend every day for the rest of my life, with you.”
Their tears were mingling, lips nearly brushing just as they had, all those months ago now, and she couldn’t hold it in.
“I love you too. I loved you that night in the Library at Aubrey Hall, and I loved you when I told you I was ashamed to have kissed you, I’m not ashamed to love you, Anthony. I could never be ashamed of that.”
“Come home with me, Marry me.” His voice was so gentle, his hand on the back of her neck, sealing their lips together while her heart hammered in her chest, the salt of their tears on his tongue.
“Yes.”
His smile was so beautiful, so young and handsome and carefree, eyes shining at her for a very long moment before he said, with his voice achingly soft. “Kate, Can I- Um- May I-hold the baby?”
Kate startled as his eyes fell to Edmund, eyes just opened, staring up at his father curiously, Anthony’s hand hovering just over him, the shape of their eyes exactly alike.
“He’s yours.”
Anthony huffed out a laugh, nodding his head. “He?”
She nodded against him, placing Edmund softly in his arms as Anthony’s breathing shuddered. “This is your Papa, Edmund.”
Anthony’s eyes shot to hers, his shoulders heaving as she swiped at his tears. “Edmund.”
“He’s named for your father, and mine. I thought it… I thought it was what you would name your son.”
Anthony shot forward, his lips meeting hers desperately, so much emotion passing between them I love you gasped against her skin, pressed there until she believed it.
“Edmund.”
“We might… have a little explaining to do when we return home.”
Anthony chuckled against her, his lips curling upwards, “That is the very last thing on my mind. Let me hold my wife and son, Viscountess. I’ve been without you long enough.”
And she didn’t have it in her to correct the title that tomorrow would be hers.
And when they stepped off the ship in London once more, Edmund cradled against Anthony’s chest, her hand on his arm, she couldn’t have cared less about the tiny lie they told. A secret wedding (the date on their marriage certificate slight fudged), a trip home to collect her things, waiting until Anthony joined her for their honeymoon. All she cared about was him. And the tiny thrill she got when Edmund’s first word was Papa
___________
It was funny really to think about how she’d told Lady Danbury all those months ago that she couldn’t wait to leave London. She’d meant it then, full of longing for home and the anxiety that had eaten at her stomach at the unfamiliar surrounds and the task ahead. But home wasn’t a place anymore. Home was a person. Two people really.
Anthony’s smiles warmed her chest, and his voice in her ear, and his hand in hers settled her nerves and she would miss India, of course she would. Miss the places and the people and the warmth, but Anthony she would follow anywhere. Follow him back to the place where the very worst day of her life had happened. Where his family would judge her for the child she bore him, and her family would still despise him; because with Anthony at her side she could have born anything.
So they left within a week. Their marriage legalised, her position resigned, her feeble possessions packed. All of it, with Anthony at her side, Edmund cradled in his arms, his smile bright.
“He’s so beautiful Kate.”
Anthony was so gentle, with the child he hadn’t known existed, had had no time to prepare for, but he lay beside her in bed, bare chested with their legs intertwined and her fingers in his hair and their son laying on his chest with his eyes shining.
“I love you, and I love him so much, I’ll make you both so happy, I promise.”
And her voice shook when she brushed her lips against his and murmured, “You already have.”
She’d sent a letter to Mary, just as Anthony had to his own.
And the journey had begun, and though the cabin was larger, the journey just a taxing in a different way. Traveling with a tiny infant, day in, day out was difficult, not to mention Anthony’s less than steady sea legs, but even so, they were together. Day after day, nestled together, her legs thrown over his, the tiny baby they’d made nestled between them before they lost themselves in each other every night. Learning and growing with one another, discovering tiny facts about one another until Kate had never felt closer to another person in her entire life.
“I’m nervous.” Kate whispered into the night, just hours before they would dock in London, anxiety rolling in her stomach, her fingers intertwined with Anthony. “People will talk about Edmund, They’ll make their judgements and I- I worry for him.”
Anthony had shaken his head, their noses brushing, his fingers brushing her hair from her eyes. “You have been my wife, Kate, since the first time my lips touched yours, in my heart that was true and a piece of paper doesn’t change that. Edmund is my son, you are my wife, and I will protect you in any way I must.”
And she’d just wished she could believe it.
Kate’s heart pounded in her chest as they stepped from the ship, the cool air with no right to the familiarity it sparked in her chest, in the content she felt back here, with Anthony at her side, their son in his arms, eyes darting around curiously.
Anthony’s spine stood straight as he nodded to his valet, greeting them with the carriage.
“Milton, you remember my wife, Lady Bridgerton.”
The look on Milton’s face made it obvious that he in fact did not remember Kate as anything close to his wife, let alone that the child might belong to them but he said nothing beyond-
“Of course, Lady Bridgerton.”
Anthony cleared his throat, “Perhaps you might send word of our safe arrival to Lady Bridgerton’s family at Danbury house. Invite them for tea, they have much to catch up on.”
Milton nodded briskly before setting off, leaving them to be bundled into the carriage, the anxiety rising in Kate’s chest the closer they got, delayed by their things being unloaded, even when Anthony had used his most commanding tone, Come now, man! My wife and son are waiting! His hand was tight on hers the entire way, his lips pressed against her temple.
“Relax, my darling, everything will be just fine.”
Her anxiety peaking as the carriage rolled to a stop.
It was just as she had remembered it in her dreams where this had been her home, or Aubrey hall had, bright and colourful and filled with signs of life. Even if the butler balked when anthony smiled politely still unwavering with his arm around her waist, Edmund nestled in her arms, his tiny face tucked against her neck babbling quietly.
“Humboldt, you remember lady Bridgerton, and Master Edmund.”
The man had floundered, unable to speak until Anthony had taken pity on him. “My mother is at home?”
“Y-yes sir, in the drawing room, and Miss-Lady Bridgerton’s family arrived some time ago.”
“Excellent!” Anthony had clapped him on the shoulder, steering Kate towards the drawing room even as panic dug its claws in more heavily. her heart pounding in her chest as Anthony threw open the door and the entire room went silent.
Mary and Violet were together in the corner of the room, Edwina perched beside the Duchess of Hastings, Anthony’s brothers lounging around nearby with his younger siblings and every pair of eyes on the room fixed on them as Anthony nudged her inside.
Mary’s eyes widened in surprise, even as her brow furrowed, her mind clearly racing as she attempted to fit Edmund’s older form into just six months, even as Violet gasped beside her.
“Anthony-”
“Everyone, you remember Kate, my wife.” His chest heaved proudly, his smile so handsome Kate almost thought she wouldn’t have cared about anything else in the entire world if he would just keep looking at her and their son like that. “And this is our son, Edmund.”
Violet let out a small, choked noise, her eyes flicking over Kate as she stood slowly, Mary only inches behind as she made her way across the room, Mary’s soft nod of understanding, her gentle smile soothing Kate’s heart as her hand reached out for her, Violet frozen in front of her as she stared back at Kate, her eyes swimming.
“My darling, I’m so glad to see you.” Mary’s arms around her were so tight, comforting, her breath shuddering as she stared down at Edmund, blinking curiously back at her, his hand reaching out trying to grab for her, babbling a little unintelligibly. “Oh Kate, he’s beautiful.”
“Mama, I’m sorry I didn’t-”
But Mary shook her head, pressing her lips to her forehead, and then Edmund’s before she pulled back, smiling gently.
“May I hold him?”
Violet’s voice was gentle, wavering a little her hands shaking as she reached for her grandson, Kate’s eyes widening.
“Of course, Lady Bridgerton I-”
Violet shook her head, “Violet. Please.”
Kate hummed, as she passed Edmund, pointing, “Your Appa’s Mama, Edmund. Say Hello.”
Kate heard Anthony intake of breath as Violet gasped, her grandson in her arms. “He’s so like Anthony was. He’s so beautiful.” And then, before Kate could react, Violet had moved swiftly forward, wrapping her arms tightly around Kate, her voice desperate in her ear, “Thank you for bringing my boy back to me.”
Tears pricked at Kate’s eyes her voice wavering, “It’s been my pleasure.”
Anthony huffed beside her, “No kind words for me, mother, glad to se your son returned safely home? Well married and settled.”
Violet pulled back with an exasperate sigh, one eyebrow quirking upwards before she said, “No. You are in rather a lot of trouble young man. Do not think, because you’ve come back here with your adorable son that i’ll not be able to do the sums on when he was conceived.”
Mary fixed Anthony with a rather sharp look and hummed in agreement, “I quite agree. Though I must admit, an excellent diversion.”
And somehow, through all the nerves, the panic that had settled on her shoulders, as her husband’s face fell indignantly, Kate found it in herself to laugh
___________
Anthony wasn’t a fool, despite the impeccable impression of one he’d been doing for the last few years. He knew that there would be whispers, there would be rumours, despite the date on his marriage certificate now bearing the same as that fateful accident. People would talk. But in his heart, truly Kate had been his wife since they’d stood at that altar and her lips had claimed his. Whether she had known it at the time or not, she’d walked away with his heart cradled in her hands. He’d known even then that he would not marry, not if he couldn’t marry Kate. He belonged to her so completely, even as she refused his proposal gently, that he could never wed another. Would never even try. But miraculously, he’d found her, and even more miraculously she loved him in return. And somehow, even more miraculously than that, there was Edmund.
When he’d opened his eyes in Bombay, he’d been struck by how beautiful Kate was, even as the tears streamed down her face, his heart pounding in his chest as he poured it out to her. And then his eyes had fallen on the baby in her arms and he’d couldn’t breathe. She had born him a child, Kate had. A shock of curly dark hair on his head, dark eyes that seemed to pierce right through his soul, just like Kate’s did, right to the very heart of him. Edmund. named for his father and hers, even though she’d never read his letters, had thought it would be too painful, so she had no way of knowing Edmund would ever meet his father. She had wanted him to belong.
“I… I stole your name.” Kate had whispered as they’d fallen asleep that night, skin to skin, sweat still cooling on their bodies, foreheads pressed together. “I told Mrs Varma I was married, that my husband was fighting in France, and I hadn’t meant to, but I stole your name.”
“My name was already yours.” He had said, his heart pounding in his chest as his lips chased hers. “Everything I have, everything I am is yours. It’s not much, but I will make you proud, Kate, I promise. I’ll be a husband, a father you can be proud of.”
The saddest smile had crossed her face as she’d said- “I’m already proud. I know it will be difficult, we’re both at fault but you came all the way here, all of this for me, and I love you. No more running away.”
But now they were back, and it seemed a little less easy to rationalise it all.
“I thought perhaps that something had occurred between the two of you. Not this though.” His mother hummed, a gentle smile on her face as she watched Kate across the drawing room, gently watching as Gregory held his new Nephew a huge smile on his face. “Why else would you have called at Danbury House so early that morning?”
Anthony’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know about that?”
“I know everything, darling.” She hummed, and then- “Well, not everything apparently.”
“I offered to marry her.” He said quickly, somehow needing his mother to know he hadn’t spent the night with Kate then thrown her to the wolves. “When she awoke, I went to see her, and I proposed. But I- I was still scared and I- I didn’t pose the question very kindly, and she refused me.”
His mother hummed, but remained silent, waiting for him to get up the courage to tell the rest of the tale.
“This isn’t obligation. I love Kate, and she loves me and I don’t care what anyone says, I don’t care that the queen smoothed things over. She’s my wife, and I will strive to be worthy of that love.”
His mother stared back at him for a very long time before she cleared her throat. “I think you’re doing a better job than you think.” She turned away from him, her smile growing as they both took in Edmund, once more on his mother’s knee, Kate’s smile so beautiful it pulled something from his chest. “She is a beautiful mother, and truly, there’s no one better for you, I assure you.”
Tears pricked at his eyes, his voice gruff. “Surely this is not you and I agreeing, Mother.”
She tutted fondly, “Perhaps I’ve gone soft. My Grandson’s dimples are rather adorable.” She lifted her voice, “Kate, Darling, bring that beautiful baby to his grandmother.”
Kate looked up in surprise at having been addressed, her bottom lip between her teeth betraying her nerves as she settled Edmund in his grandmother’s arms. Anthony reached out for her hand, tugging until she toppled against his lap, a sound of protest in her throat eyeing his mother cautiously, but she was barely paying attention.
“He’s so beautiful. Well done my darlings.” His mother hummed to them both. “And I assume you’ve taken care of the papers, Anthony, so no… questions can arise.”
Anthony felt his jaw tighten already. “I was enjoying a honeymoon with my wife. Edmund was quite the surprise, Kate left ahead of me to collect her belongings.”
His mother hummed, “Of course, Darling.”
And the next Day Anthony straightened his spine, tucked his wife’d hand into his arm, his son on his hip and marched into Hyde Park, ignoring the stares and double takes, smiling brightly as he spoke to lady Featherington of their honeymoon.
“Well I think we’ve sent enough tongues wagging today.” Anthony hummed as they left, making their way slowly home.
Kate hummed in his ear as the door to Bridgerton House opened, “I’m not sure why we’re bothering. It’ll be quite a scandal when I deliver your second honeymoon baby in about seven months.”
And just like that, before Anthony could catch up, she took Edmund, and walked inside, a smirk tossed over her shoulder leaving him fumbling after her. Just like always.
“Kaaate!”