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You stood on the side of the dance floor, watching with bated breath as Anthony moved through a waltz with your best option yet. Anthony had officially declared his intentions to find a wife this season, and he’d asked you to aid him in the journey. Knowing the likelihood of his search ending in either dissatisfaction or the literal opposite of a love match, you agreed.
It may not have been the most brilliant decision, helping the man you were in love with find a wife, but you knew you did not have any chance at his affections. Anthony saw you as a friend and respected you immensely, but there was nothing more there — you were sure of it. You figured if you had a hand in Anthony’s search for a wife, he would at least end up with a woman that he liked, or even loved. He was far too pragmatic to go for a love match and far too stubborn to admit he deserved one, and so you took the responsibility yourself — Violet certainly appreciated your help after all the years she had spent on her own trying to find her son a match.
But Anthony was pushing your patience to its limits. His list of demands for what he desired in a lady was far longer than you thought, but you'd still managed to find and introduce him to several eligible debutantes. You had been quite proud of them all, finding each lady to be lovely in her own way and definitely good enough for what Anthony wanted, and yet he refused every single one. Whether it be her poor dance skills, her lack of intellect, an inability to voice her opinions, or just his own ‘bad feelings’, Anthony consistently found a way to shut down every debutante you found.
But this time, you had a good feeling. Lady Delilah Addlebury was of good breeding from a respectable family and considerable wealth. She was an excellent dancer, she spoke English, French, and Mandarin and could hold an intellectual conversation in any of them, she could play the pianoforte and the cello with such skill she rivaled the musicians hired to play at the balls, and she, if you dared to say so yourself, had fantastic hips, perfect for childbearing. Surely, Anthony would be satisfied with Miss Addlebury — she was not only perfect in every way, but she was perfect for him.
The waltz came to a close and they bowed to each other, Anthony touching her arm lightly and saying a few words before they separated. Delilah returned to her mother and Anthony started towards you, and you could not contain your smile. This had to be it.
“Well?” you said as he came to a stop by your side. “What did you think of her? Isn’t she—”
“She is not the one,” Anthony interrupted, and your smile immediately faded.
“What?”
“She is not the one,” he repeated as he folded his hands behind his back. “She wants five children; that is far too many for a woman like her.”
Your brows furrowed as you crossed your arms. “Anthony, you have seven siblings and you played a part in raising each one. I should think you could handle five children.”
“I can,” he agreed, “but she cannot. I can tell — she is not fit to be a mother, nor a viscountess.”
You nodded, your annoyance rolling off of you in waves. “And how exactly can you tell?”
“It is just a feeling I have,” he said. “After all these years I have learned to trust my intuition.”
“Unbelievable,” you muttered, and before you could question what you were doing you grabbed Anthony’s arm and stormed out of the ballroom, all but dragging him behind you.
“What— what are you doing?” he protested in hushed whispers, too much of a gentleman with far too much honor at stake to cause a true scene. “Have you lost your mind?”
You ignored him as you ducked into the first spare room you found, and you shut and locked the door before you stalked to the other side. You knew it was improper to be in here without a chaperone, especially with Anthony’s reputation, but right now you simply did not care.
“What in God’s name was that?” Anthony demanded, staring at you completely bewildered as he rubbed his wrist. “How is your grip so strong?”
“I have quite a bit of practice dealing with half-brained men,” you fumed. “You ask me what I am doing — what are you doing?”
He huffed as he walked over to the mirror — you’d ended up pulling him into a guest bedroom, it seemed — and adjusted his lapels, very pointedly avoiding eye contact. “I am attempting to find the woman I will spend the rest of my wife with, which you apparently see as a very light matter.”
“You know I don’t; it is just that I do not understand what you want from me!” you exclaimed in pure frustration. “I am sure that I have introduced you to every eligible lady in all of London, and yet you refuse every single one!”
“None of them are right,” he said simply. “I have given you my reasons; are they not enough?”
“Your— your reasons?” You huffed a laugh as you threw your hands up in exasperation. “There is no rational reason to reject a woman like Lady Addlebury! She is beautiful, intelligent, an excellent dancer and musician — I cannot imagine why anyone could turn her down!”
“She is just…” Anthony trailed off and shook his head. “She is just not right.”
“Then who is right?” you cried, your frustration reaching a peak. You loved Anthony in every way, shape, and form, and yet he was simply the most infuriating man you had ever met. “You have gone through the entire ton by now — I do not admit this often, but I am at a loss. I truly have no idea what will satisfy you.”
“That is where you are wrong,” Anthony said, and you raised your eyebrows. “There is still one woman you have not yet entertained.”
You laughed in disbelief as you shook your head. “Oh, pray tell! What woman is perfect enough for Lord Bridgerton’s endless list of needs that I have overlooked?”
Anthony let out a loose breath, adjusting the fit of his vest before he turned around. “You are.”
It took you a moment to process what he had said, and when you did you blinked and took a step back. “Excuse me?”
“You are the perfect woman for me,” he repeated, his words crafted so easily and so surely that you could hardly believe it. “I have known it for a very long time, but I have only just now allowed myself to accept it.”
“I… I do not understand,” you floundered.
“What is there to understand?” he questioned. “I love you. I want to marry you.”
There was so much buzzing around in your head that you opened and closed your mouth at least thrice before you managed to form any semblance of a word. “How long? I mean— how long have you known this?”
Anthony cleared his throat, tugging at his collar. “Since the beginning of last season.”
“Good god,” you whispered, pressing your fingers against your temples before setting your glare on him. “Are you completely inept?”
He frowned. “Excuse me?”
“In what world does a man ask the woman he is in love with to help him find a wife?” you cried. “Anthony, have you anything at all in your head or is it all just empty space?”
“I had a perfectly good reason for doing things in this way!” he defended, and you huffed an incredulous laugh as you crossed your arms.
“You have my full attention.”
Anthony sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head once again before his gaze returned to you. “You must understand that I have never thought I would get a chance with you. You are a wonderful woman of good standing, a lady that any man would desire. A lady that wishes to marry for love, a love that you so completely deserve. A love I was convinced I could never give to you.” He paused for a moment, tongue darting out to wet his lips before he looked back at you.
“But the more time we spent together, the more I began to feel for you. Every time you sang while Francesca played the pianoforte, every game you played with Gregory and Hyacinth, every conversation you held with Eloise over the analysis of poetry—” Anthony managed a small laugh. “I almost considered asking you to stop visiting, for I knew every time I watched you merge so flawlessly with my family the harder I fell. I could not stop imagining you as my wife, as Viscountess Bridgerton, and so I did what any foolish man in love does and threw myself into my work. My work just so happened to be a search for a woman that would allow me to get over you. I admit that… asking you for help was not my wisest idea.”
Not his wisest idea. He simplified it far too much.
“I cannot believe what I am hearing.” You shook your head yet again, still completely incredulous. “You are stubborn, and irritating, and—”
“In love,” he interrupted with a smile. “I am stubbornly, irritatingly in love with you, so much so that you consume my every thought, and I cannot seem to make even one rational decision around you. I do not expect anything in return, but you should know how I feel about you.”
You let out a loose sigh as you crossed your arms, more than slightly miffed. “Well, you should try harder to have a conscious thought when around me. It would have saved us both quite a bit of pain had you the simple foresight to not ask for my aid in your search for a wife.”
It slowly dawned on Anthony, his eyes widening as a rarely seen hopefulness emerged on his features. “You mean to say…?”
“I am in love with you too, you idiot,” you huffed, more than a little frustrated that you had to spell it out for him. “There is a reason I have gone three seasons without ever accepting a proposal. I cannot believe how long it took you to figure it out.”
A wide grin bloomed on his lips as he drew nearer, a palpable weight off of his shoulders. “Perhaps it took me so long because of all the insults you insist on throwing my way.”
A smile tugged at your lips as you shrugged. “Someone has to keep you humble. It clearly has not worked.”
You heard a noise from the hallway and you blinked, your senses coming back to you as you realized exactly where you were. It was your idea to come here, but it truly was not a smart one.
“It is improper for us to be in here together,” you said, focused on the door as if you expected someone to break it down and catch the two of you. “We should head back to the event.”
It was then that you felt Anthony’s arms around your waist and his breath against your neck, and you craned your head back to look at him with a barely contained smile. “Did you hear anything I just said? We have to return to the party.”
“Must we?” Anthony asked as he pressed a kiss to the corner of your lips from behind. “We will be engaged soon anyway; I believe we can have some fun after all the trouble we have caused each other.”
You raised your eyebrows, attempting to bite back your smile. “You so readily assume I will accept your proposal after the agony you have put me through?”
“Of course,” he responded with a cockeyed grin. “Where else are you to find the stubborn and irritating husband you desire so?”