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Chapter Text

“Yes. Yes! Yes! I shall be your viscountess. I shall marry you.”

The immediate effect of that moment had been underwhelming. There had never been any planning for happiness in his future. Contentment perhaps, which would come over the years as life would go on in an uninterrupted series of comfortable mornings and quiet evenings, watching his children grow up. In that moment, though, of her acceptance to his proposal what he had hoped to feel was some sense of satisfaction for the fulfillment of his duty. Instead, a vast nothingness engulfed him, which grew colder as that young woman beamed with joy at the prospect of their marriage. He replied with a forced twitch of his mouth that could pass as a smile.

Two reactions on opposite sides of the spectrum of human emotion.

That alone should have been enough to make him realize that this was a mistake he would regret. Because no matter how hard she would try, she would not be able to maintain enough excitement for both of them, at least not for long. And if he would not contribute to the effort, the fragile foundation of their union would collapse, taking them and their families down with it.

But he couldn't. Any resolve to his initial plan that had brought him to that moment, did not endure against the grief which filled his heart.

The following weeks gave him many opportunities to come to that conclusion.

Her family had to remain at Aubrey Hall for a few more days to discuss pressing matters for the coming nuptials. The reality of a betrothal was significantly different to what he had imagined. It wouldn't have been a bliss, but he hadn't expected that it would annoy him. The whole affair demanded a lot of his time and attention for one obligation or another. What was worse, however, was Miss Edwina. A continuous presence at the breakfast table, on his morning round in the garden. At luncheon, at afternoon tea and finally at dinner; the woman he had given his family's ring to was everywhere he looked, even occasionally in his study, flanked by their mothers for one more important decision in which he had no interest.

What distance had he really imagined would exist between them mere days after he named her his future wife? Her voice, her questions, her opinions, her laughter was a constant noise fighting to invade his every moment, except in the privacy of his bedchamber.

In those short pauses she occupied his thoughts, depriving him of sleep, unless it was to dream of her.

The woman he almost kissed, almost held. The woman he almost claimed. The one who could make him happy and he had almost let her.

Almost. That word should be engraved on his tomb.

“Say you do not care for me. Tell me you feel nothing, and I will walk away.”

“I feel...I feel.”

He never heard the end of it. Of course he knew how it would end, but God, did he want to hear her say it. Just once if not forever.

Perhaps she would have said it the next morning.

No.

He was sure she would have. But he walked past her and offered to her sister the words that belonged to her.

She would never say it after that. She would never say anything to him, ever again. In the course of less than a day he had become a ghost to the woman he loved and he would remain one for the rest of their lives and he had no one but himself to blame.

With everyone else she was the same she had been; kind and caring, offering interesting conversation and good advice. Her laughs had become rare, but she wore her smiles when people expected her to smile; whenever her sister would tell her how happy she was, at every toast for the betrothed couple, with every idea for the celebrations to come.

In order to achieve that unruffled placidity, it seemed that for her the house had one less resident than it actually did. Not even her gaze would fall on him, not even by accident. She went to great lengths to not be involved in anything he might be included in and she exited any room he was in if the rest of the group was not big enough to feel secure that she would not have to interact with him. And he would always look away; at his hands, at the floor, at the wall, outside the window as if it didn't kill him every time to watch her fleeing his presence.

The situation did not change in London. There were fewer occasions when she had to take measures to stay away from him, but her diligence did not falter. In fact, whenever he had called on Miss Edwina, or when he and his mother visited the Danbury House, she was nowhere to be seen. No explanation was given to them and neither he nor his mother asked of her whereabouts. She deserved her peace. That much he should give her.

If only he could.

Inside him a greedy monster of need and desire grew bigger and stronger than reason. In vain, he was lingering in Lady Danbury's drawing room, just in case she would appear but she never did. He had grown used to the lack of the warmth he felt whenever she was looking at him, but to be denied his last source of comfort of enjoying even a glimpse of her, was a penance he could not cope with. Every time he stepped out of the Danbury House, he looked up to see if he could find her figure on any window; he never did. Once, though he noticed that the moment he glanced up the curtains of a window were hastily closed, hiding whomever was inside. Perhaps it wasn't her, shielding herself against his hurtful attention. Perhaps it had been a maid; he tried to convince himself of that notion, but eventually he knew that he should not entertain that delusion.

For their audience with the Queen of England he was late. Getting out of bed for that performance was too taxing. In the carriage, his mother kept silent and did not meet his eyes. No longer did she try to persuade him to end this charade, and once her consoling words did not work there was nothing left to say. He had been lying and did so convincingly; and to none more than to himself but the lie was getting too big to escape and too heavy to bear. The wise thing to do was to take this one day at a time, but each day was becoming more difficult than the previous one. The Queen declared them a love match and all he could think of was that it had been eight days since he had last seen her and he did not know if he could manage through the ninth.

The dinner with the Sheffields, which she could not avoid, offered him one chance to set eyes upon the woman he had lost. The moment she walked in the drawing room, he nearly forgot the purpose of his visit, the promises he had made to her sister. He nearly forgot his own name or how to breathe. The only thing he could think of was the life he would not live; all that he wanted but could not have because in a moment of weakness he had denied her.

Around the table there was civility and the subject of Miss Edwina's dowry was not raised. Lady Danbury had informed him in time and he saw no reason to upset things even more. For her there could not be much conversation with Lady Mary's estranged family who had time only for their granddaughter. Except for a few short replies that gradually turned to mere nods towards his mother she kept her eyes on her plate and lifted her head only to drink her wine. More glasses, he noticed, than she used to. He did not need to wonder what she was thinking; she was thinking how quickly time could pass so that she would leave for India and finally be free of all of them, him mostly.

He only wondered if she knew, or cared about, how much he wished he could follow her.

Chapter Text

It was the fifth time Benedict found him sleeping on his desk. He picked up the empty glass that was still clutched in his hand and helped him to sit properly on his chair. Usually the ritual ended there but then his brother looked at him and told him that he had been calling her name. It wasn't a reproach; Benedict knew the futility of such a thing. It was just to caution him.

It had always been Miss Sharma, or the sister whenever Anthony was thinking of her. Then it changed to she or her. But they were not enough. From the creases of his mind a soft Kate would come forward until it prevailed. A scathing irony; she would never truly be Kate to him, so she became Kate in the only way available; in the solitude of his thoughts. Now it was escaping into the real world. Another barrier was shattered. Benedict was right to worry. Soon Anthony would share a bed, a life, with his bride. Longingly calling her sister's name was going to be a problem to which he had no solution.

If I ever learn how to control my breathing, then perhaps I can even learn how to not need to call her name, he told his brother, until then...

The end of the sentence was a generous refill of his glass.

At the engagement ball Miss Edwina had the misguided idea that he should dance with Kate. Anthony was standing before that young woman and he could not fathom that he was marrying her. It was the wrong thing to focus on, because her ridiculously naive suggestion threatened the delicate peace they had managed that evening, but he could not bring himself to stop thinking how inconceivable it was that he would be calling wife, a woman he didn't see any differently than any of his sisters.

Benedict, gave up waiting for him to say anything useful and tried to persuade Miss Edwina all by himself. She did not heed his subtle warnings and briskly moved towards her sister. From the other side of the room he could see Kate grabbing Miss Edwina by the elbow and guiding her to a small room nearby. He followed even though he didn't know why. Hearing that conversation would be a vicious punishment and the very first thing Kate said proved him right.

In a severe tone she was reminding her sister that all that had been asked of her to do to bring the much desired proposal and secure the wedding was done and done well, implying that her role in the whole affair had ended. For her the sight of him was as unwelcome as it had been on the first days of their acquaintance and therefore dancing with him was out of the question.

Miss Edwina tried to change her sister's mind by telling her that it was expected of them to dance, but from his fiancée's startled reaction he understood she was met with less tact than she had been accustomed to. The fact that Kate had not spoken a single word to him since the ball at Aubrey Hall was brought to Miss Edwina's attention. A thing she contemplated briefly but dismissed its importance. It had to be instinctive, he guessed. Something inside her mind fought to not register any of the warnings. The lack of any communication between him and Kate was unusual and it should have made Miss Edwina question their motives behind such cold alienation. He almost faulted her for that self-imposed ignorance. But then again it matched his own cowardice.

Kate emphasized that if she had to dance with a male Bridgerton one of his brothers would have to suffice. Dancing with his youngest brother would make for a sweet moment, she suggested but the bitter desperation in her voice indicated that the would rather dance even with the spirit of his dead father than with him.

Anthony's whole body turned to stone. If anyone would cut his veins no blood would run from the wounds.

Miss Edwina attempted to placate her with words about family when invoking her sense of duty had failed. It was a mistake. In a harsh outburst Kate stated, fighting against her tears, that he would become Miss Edwina's husband, but he would never become her family. Miss Edwina apologized in a weak voice and he was left to wonder if the true meaning of what had transpired just then had reached her. If it did, she did not let on. There would be no deliverance that night.

Before the sisters would return to the ballroom, Benedict motioned for him to leave. What could you even do if you were to stay? His brother asked.

What indeed.

He wanted to fall on his knees before Kate and beg her to never send him away. He wanted to hold her and kiss away the tears from her face. He wanted to tell her that the broken heart in his chest beat only for her.

But he couldn't.

Not because those gestures would be lacking true sentiment or because it would be beneath him to make a spectacle of himself with no regard for his station and reputation. But because Kate would not allow it.

What he could do was to entrust her protection to his brother. Benedict would dance with her and then he would make sure she was undisturbed for the rest of the evening, away from anyone's idle chatter or intrusive gossip. He promised so.

After that night Anthony avoided any visit to the Danbury House and if he absolutely had to be there he would remain at the door.

Suddenly, excuses started to flood the Bridgertons for Kate's absences from any event and gathering. There were letters, they were told by Miss Edwina, that Kate needed to reply to and interviews for various positions of governess she was interested in. Miss Edwina's over-displayed enthusiasm was proof she had understood that her sister and her intended would not even be in the same room together, even if she remained uncertain of the why. Lady Mary and Lady Danbury silently acknowledged that the matter was closed.

Everyone in his family nodded and smiled at every mention of Kate's plans and asked Miss Edwina to convey their warmest wishes. Even Hyacinth and Gregory played their parts well. Since their return from the countryside, much to their disappointment, because they had grown to like Kate and that menace of a dog she loved so much, his younger siblings had been told not to expect her and not to ask any questions about her. The older siblings, equally fond of her, needed no such instructions. The true reason was the best kept secret among them. They learned to keep their dismay hidden, even if it wasn't always possible.

Once, he overheard a conversation between Daphne and Benedict where she voiced her concern for Kate's decision to leave. His brother did not know much about how an unmarried woman's life would be, but he expressed the certainty that Kate's would be a fulfilling one. A lonely one, his sister replied, away from everyone she knew and loved.

Away from me, Anthony thought. He was selfish enough to tell himself that she had loved him too, even if it was her greatest regret.

It wouldn't have to be a lonely one, though. Anthony tried to ease his guilt with the thought that companionship could be found with other like-minded women. Perhaps, he thought darkly, she would even find love. Yes, there was a great danger that this devastating blow would be in his future. At every turn, she had rejected the idea, but there was no guaranty that once she'd become unburdened by the responsibilities which had forced her to live for others, she would not search for love.

A parade of gentlemen would undoubtedly court and revere her as she deserved. And she might respond to one of them. To the luckiest of men, she would be free to offer her hand and it was irrational to believe that there had been anyone else in the whole creation as criminally idiotic as he had been to not seize any opportunity to be with her.

She would not be Miss Sharma anymore.

Would she even inform them? Would they ever receive a carefully written letter mentioning an engagement or worse, a marriage? At that thought, his throat went dry. Marriage was unacceptable. Because marriage was so finite. An engagement on the other hand... An engagement could be broken. Any number of reasons could result to it. As her sister's husband, Anthony could object to it. He could find legitimate reasons to prevent it, if only he had enough time to act. Because of course he would. If any such letter would find its way in his hands, he would try anything in his power to stop the wedding from happening.

Good God. One hypothetical announcement in an imaginary letter and he had almost formed a plan to stop a non existent engagement.

The absurdity of that line of thinking, though, did not frighten him as much as the possibility of Kate seeking happiness away from him did, so he allowed himself the sense of entitlement that as her sister's husband he had some power over the matter.

Of course as her sister's husband it might had been within his rights to deny her, on certain grounds, the permission to marry, but after that what? Could her sister's husband express his burning jealousy, his undying desire for her, lay an indefensible claim on her, love her and make her his without shame?

No. No, he couldn't. So, very wisely and with great effort he stopped himself from spiraling down that path or he would end up insane.

He buried himself in work, instead. The estate and his parliamentary obligations would have his undivided attention. Even in their household, anything that had to be done, important or tedious, he'd do it himself. There could be no moment free for such dangerous speculations any more.

It worked for a few days.

Fate was a cruel mistress, though.

One day he was passing by Madam Delacroix's shop and through the window he saw Lady Mary showing fabric samples to someone. When that person came into view he saw the beautiful face that his dreams were made of. Normally he would have left, but normalcy was a medicine that cured nothing those days. So, in he walked.

It could have been a heightened sense that warned her of any danger or a bloody curse that condemned him to eternal torment; he did not know what had caused it, but the minute he approached Lady Mary, Kate was gone. Had she been an illusion, a trick of his tired mind? No, her intoxicating scent was all around him in the store. Kate had been there, but she was gone. Anthony mumbled a greeting, asked dutifully about his intended, muttered a few pleasantries, offered a feeble excuse for not being able to stay any longer and then he left.

But that greedy monster inside him was not defeated. It was becoming ungovernable and now it struggled to be released.

…

One morning, his mother announced to him that, at Lady Danbury's request, she would host a dinner for the two families, one week before the wedding. It would be a nice opportunity, his mother said, for the two families to get together, including the Sheffields. The niceness of another evening of pretending, especially with the Sheffields, was lost on him so he countered that it was pointless since the upcoming wedding would seal whatever loose bonds still remained. His mother told him that Lady Danbury insisted on the importance of that specific evening and as if that made any sense he accepted it.

Not knowing what to hope for or from where that hope sprang, he asked if everyone would attend. No, she told him. There was no need to elaborate. Just when he believed it impossible, his heart sank in deeper despair. One week and no hope.

The day of the dinner arrived and he took his seat at the head of the table looking at faces who expected a lot from him, but he felt that he had given too much already; any more and he would be left an empty shell of a man. As the dinner progressed with toasts and stories and laughter he found himself melting into the background until it felt like someone else occupied his life and that man's choices he could not understand, explain or suffer anymore.

After dinner, instead of following the others back to the drawing room, he went to his study. On his way in, he poured himself a drink and loosened his cravat. A gift for his intended was set on top of the ledgers he had been checking earlier. It was put on his desk by his mother after she had chosen it, purchased it and brought it home.

He ignored it and walked to the bookcase. A few heavy tomes on the shelf hid the small round black velvet box he was looking for. When he opened it, an emerald ring that used to belong to his grandmother glittered softly as he moved it closer to the dim candlelight. It had never been a special piece to him. Apart from the ring that was already on Miss Edwina's finger, he had had no use for jewelry. That family heirloom from his mother's side would have remained at Aubrey Hall until Benedict would need it for his bride, but for sentimental reasons his mother wanted to move a few things back to London and the emerald ring was one of them. Anthony had been present when she was unpacking them and all it took was one look at the ring and he immediately thought of the woman who should wear it as a token of his love and devotion. He kept it in his study and since that day at Madam Delacroix's many times he brought it out and tortured himself with the same image and then he put it back to its hiding place.

This time he put the emerald ring in his pocket.

He emptied his glass and made himself presentable.

The footman at the entrance of the house was surprised to see him approaching, but he opened the door without delay. From there his steps took him on the street, and then Anthony moved in the direction of the Danbury House.

Chapter Text

Every two minutes Kate would remove the folded paper from her reticule and read it. With big letters the name of the ship and the date of departure were spelled on the yellow paper. Her own name was written on it, stained with her tears. The passage to her freedom was in the palm of her hand, heavy with her hopes and dreams. Now that the day had finally come it was more real and more intimidating than it had seemed when she had first decided to leave. She held it close to her heart and prayed it was what would bring her peace.

In a matter of hours she would leave that house in search for a home.

Her time was limited and her movements had to be as quick and efficient as possible. Her family and Lady Danbury would be back soon from the dinner at the Bridgerton house and Kate had to be gone long before that. When she had approached Lady Danbury with her request, she knew it would be very possible that she would be denied the assistance. The matron had no reason to enable her escape, but she mastered enough sympathy for her and showed Kate kindness by devising an excuse for everyone to be out of the house long enough for her to leave undetected.

The close circle of the two families knew of her imminent departure but leaving one week before Edwina's wedding would come as a surprise because everyone assumed that she would at least attend the ceremony if not await the return of the newlyweds from their honeymoon. The great concern of the scandal, though, would be avoided because the rest of the ton were given ample information that she was traveling back to India and any talk of her absence from the wedding would be about how unfortunate it was that her appointment as a governess demanded her to leave early, but as it was a much coveted position, it was understandable that she could not refuse.

It was a blessing, really. For them, anyway. If the engagement ball had been any indication the wedding ceremony would not be uneventful. That horrible night was unmistakable proof of that. Surely Edwina had shown signs of understanding that her dream of a big loving family, living harmoniously would remain unfulfilled, but any unsuspecting guest could create friction with a comment or a suggestion.

She wouldn't be missed, after all.

If they could decide to get married without her agreeing to it, they certainly could get married without her witnessing it.

…

It had all started with the reckless lapse in judgment that she could ignore the frustrating attraction she felt for him. It was constantly fueled by their banter, the intense looks, the stolen and private moments until she got herself involved with him in ways that shamed and pained her in equal measure. All for the fleeting thrill to be held by him, to feel the warmth of his heart beating under her palm, to have that man shed his armor before her and desire her beyond any social boundary. To believe that their connection was deep and honest. How could she deny him anything after that? She was ready to give him her love.

Love.

Before she met him, she had had no need of it. To feel it, to nurture it, to dream it would be returned. From him, though, it felt like she could accept it. His love had felt right. Between her fear and her guilt, she felt that she could let herself be loved. She even fell in the trap to confess her feelings. He sought and took from her but did he truly care? He had to, he wasn't that good of a liar...

But whatever he had felt for her, there was something stronger inside him pulling him away and she was not enough to fight against it. With only a side glance that told her the truth, that he was choosing her sister over her, he walked past her. Without ever having him, she had to let him go.

How she had survived that moment when she stood, a statue of heartache and fury, and held her sister's glove so that he could put his ring on her finger, she would never know. It was a lesson of her character, though; if she survived that she believed she could survive everything.

Everyone gathered around them to congratulate them and share in whatever endearing sentiment could be found in that moment, and she found the opportunity to slip unnoticed, get on a horse and ride until her screams and tears would not reach the others and spoil their merriment.

Away.

That was the key word. Away from her sister and mama long enough so she could build inside her the strength to pretend in their presence. Away from Lady Danbury's condemning looks. Away from his family whose kindness was genuine but pointless. She would never get to know them better than that, so forming meaningful relationships with them was ill-advised. She did what she had to do, the bare minimum and would encourage nothing else.

And of course she would be away from him. Always and at all costs. She had to ignore him or she would not be able to avoid hurling herself against him and demand explanations and even revenge. For her broken heart and her betrayed feelings, for her pride that he had ground to fine dust she should do it, but nothing would protect her from further harm. Because the danger that she would crawl in his arms and let him win again was very much real.

No. As far as she was concerned he did not, and should not exist. Once the wedding was over, she would leave and it would be as if the two of them had never met. As it should have been.

…

The Danbury House was as grand as they would come, but still during his visits, it felt like a mousetrap. Clara, her faithful confidant, would keep her alert of his comings and goings and stopped her from entering the drawing room before he had left it. But the realization that she could not stay even for the wedding was getting too clear to be overlooked. Another solution had to be found.

And she found it.

When she found the ship that would set sail before the wedding, it had been the first moment of victory. There was just enough money to secure her passage and from then she planned and worked to make a life for herself. She dedicated her time to search all advertisements for the position of a governess and just when she was about to despair a respectable family who offered an excellent wage hired her. No wealth would be accumulated at the end of her life, but a good sum would form. If that money was not needed by her family, she decided that she would leave it for some young woman who like her wanted another path in life. Such a recipient would not be hard to find.

Of course she kept it a secret. The others could not know she had most of her affairs in order. Aside from the arrangements that were still left to be settled, her days had to remain busy with hours of supposed correspondence and fake appointments for interviews. It was the perfect cover for any lack of involvement in the wedding preparations.

But not even Kate Sharma, notorious for her strong-mindedness, could manage to keep the inevitable from happening.

That insane dinner with the Sheffields that she had to attend was a torture. She was seated across from him and she could feel once again his eyes boring into her like fire that could destroy them. His mother took notice, but there was nothing stopping him. Every time he set down his glass, Kate feared he would make a mistake. But he never did. And her disappointment was as great as her relief. There was talk of their happiness and images of their married life would slither into her mind and amplify her pain. For every moment she had lived in his arms, her sister would have years. For every second she had been the one, decades would pass with her being a distant memory who would eventually be forgotten by the healing time.

The nightmare began that night.

“Say you do not care for me. Tell me you feel nothing and I will walk away.”

“I feel... I feel that if you won't hold me close I will scatter into the wind. For you I have saved the most precious gifts of my heart. Take them.”

“My love...”

And the nightmare would always end in the same moment, with him calling her my love, kissing her and everything was alright, only for her to wake up alone in the bed, hands covering her mouth so that her sobbing would not be heard.

She could not pretend that staying away was not her choice, but she could not deny that in the end the cost had been too dear.

When she had been with her mama at Madam Delacroix's out of the corner of her eye she saw him outside the window. A quick excuse and she slipped behind the curtain to the modiste's surprise. Her expression while she listened to the conversation he had with her mama must had been dreadful enough for Madam Delacroix to take pity on her. And if her expression was not enough the way her fists were clenching the fabric of the curtain to make sure she would not run to him, certainly did. Her unexpected ally offered shelter and a sympathetic nod. It was the most she had received in a long while.

The last few days were a draining alternation between anticipation and fear. A new beginning and a bitter end. In her darkest hours Kate feared she was ready for neither.

…

With most of her belongings already packed, there were still a few items lying around the room for everyday use that she had to gather. Clara, with tears in her eyes, was assisting her to remove every sign of her ever being in that house.

The last trunk was shut closed when she heard a knock on the door. James, the footman, came in and informed her that Lord Bridgerton was there and he wanted to see her. For a second she wondered if the servant could be mistaken because the Viscount was supposed to be attending dinner at his House, and there was no reason he could remove himself from a situation where he was a center figure to make impromptu visits. With poor and desperate hope she asked if James had the name wrong. The footman hesitantly reassured her that the man waiting for her was Lord Bridgerton. A quick pace around the room was unlikely to resolve her predicament and James awaited instructions, so she told him to inform the Viscount that she was not there, but the footman told her Lord Bridgerton already knew she was in the house.

In a calm voice, despite her racing heart, she gave the order to tell his Lordship that even though she was in the house currently, she was not receiving any guests; a message that was to be delivered with absolute finality. James shared an anxious look with Clara who shrugged her shoulders and then turned to her again, telling her that his Lordship had predicted her reaction and his instruction was that she should be notified that in spite of her refusal to meet with him, he had no intention to leave. In fact, he would remain in the drawing room until he was discovered there by her sister, her mother and Lady Danbury, with all the implications that discovery would have for all of them and if she wanted to be in control of how they would manage that confrontation she would have to speak with him first.

Damn you.

One last look to her belongings and the promise of the future she had ahead of her, and she steeled herself to see him.

Before walking into that room, however, there were a few last things she had to arrange. Clara and James were tasked to move her luggage downstairs without any noise reaching the drawing room and inform the driver that he had to be very careful and discreet while loading the carriage. She had been concerned by his conduct when she had hired him, but his fare was affordable and she had no other options. And if either of them, James or Clara, had to tell her something while she was with his Lordship, they were to write a note and give it to her to read. Under no circumstances could he know she was ready to leave that same night.

Walking down the corridor, she tried to plan her movements. She would walk in calmly, she would maintain the lack of eye contact, she would not sit down so that he wouldn't either and therefore be forced to cut his visit short, she'd allow him to speak and say little in response...

She halted and leaned against the wall, bringing a hand on her chest. Her planning never worked where he was concerned, she remembered with chagrin. When he put his mind to achieve something, whether it was to win her heart or leave her behind, she would be left the devastated loser every time.

So, what is this something he wants tonight?

Just outside the drawing room, she stopped, gripped the door-handle and contemplated the possibility of running away. It certainly was the perfect time for it. There was no reason to do his bidding. Just because he snapped his fingers she did not have to run to him. It would be the rational thing to do; turn on her heel and leave. She was planning a life without him, inviting him back was a mistake she could not afford. Slowly her hand relaxed and her fingertips lingered against the closed wooden door that separated them.

Perhaps it should remain so.

Chapter Text

In the same breath, though, Kate knew that if it was the last time she'd ever see him, she would.

James was asking her if he should announce her, but she told him there was no need. Next he offered to open for her the double doors that led to the drawing room and only then did she realize that he had closed them against Lady Danbury's preference. James had done so to give her a little more time to prepare. She thanked him for it, but it made her feel too exposed. She was certain that she and the Viscount were providing the Danbury household with enough gossip to last them through winter. This shouldn't turn to an even grander spectacle than it already was.

The clicking sound of the knob turning must have alerted him to her entrance, because as the doors opened she could hear him walking in her direction before she could actually see him approaching.

Behind her, James closed the doors again, leaving them to their privacy.

The Viscount was standing too close to her; the rhythm of his breathing was giving away his nervousness. Would her hammering heart betray her? She kept her eyes on the floor.

“Miss Sharma.” It sounded dreadfully rehearsed, as though another name had been recently replaced by the formal address.

“Lord Bridgerton.” Without any question or invitation it was as if his presence before her, after such unforgiving absence, unsettled nothing in her; not even her curiosity.

She had yet to meet his eyes. He had yet to earn that right.

With a maneuver she slid past him and walked to the sofa and noticed a pillow was thrown off it. That had to be the work of his restless nature. She knelt to pick it up and wished this would be the only mess he would create that evening.

Rather urgently he questioned whether is was really important to focus her attention on the room's decoration. A comment that was testing her ability to remain calm and not throw the pillow at his face, but she conquered the impulse. When he saw that the situation did not progress to his satisfaction he issued the order to leave it.

Not even to address his audacity would she fully turn in his direction. Still kneeling, she only slightly tilted her head. With a slow hand she moved to pick the pillow and if she hadn't been in a hurry for her departure she would have spent at least an hour on straightening the pillow's tassels on both sides before putting it back to its place; just to annoy him, she would.

He inhaled sharply, as he always did when his whims were not catered to and the phrase Leave it was heard again, this time with a growl. She warned him that another attempt to give her an order would force her to have him thrown out.

“You have already tried that. It did not work.” He said, undeterred by the ice in her voice. “You denied to see me and came in only when the footman told you of my intention, did you not?”

“To create a scandal, by abandoning a family dinner and coming here, one week before your wedding?” She took her seat on the sofa with her back to him. “Is this the intention you speak of?”

“You were not there.”

“The woman you chose to marry was.”

Instead of acknowledging his shameful behavior and take his leave while there was still time to escape that nonsensical meeting with a shred dignity he moved around the sofa like a tiger circling its prey.

“Look at me.” He ordered when he should have been begging.

“Need I remind you-”

“Look at me.” He repeated more firmly. “You finally talk to me. You can also look at me.”

She jumped to her feet and met his eyes; she knew she had been avoiding them for a reason.

A storming sea under a thunderous sky. Others would have fear of the danger, she would never have enough of it; But she would not lose herself.

The last time I looked at you, you did not care about what I had to say. You did not even care if I wanted to speak to you or if I was standing before you. Why did you do this to us?

“Why?” She asked curtly. “Why should I care about what you want?”

“You really shouldn't. Do not think I don't know that.” He admitted, without excessive difficulty. “But you do care.”

“Did you come here to mock me?”

He crossed his hands behind his back and squared his shoulders. “I came here to explain. If you see mockery in that-”

“What else am I to see? Honesty? Or perhaps regret? Am I to be moved by your anguish? This belated honesty and regret is mockery. Your anguish is not my concern, my lord. Manage your affairs and your feelings as I do mine and leave me be.”

“Unleash your anger. Say it all. Loud. Lash out and hurt me. Nothing.” He paused to take a step closer. “Nothing can be worse than the torment of the last month. When you are done, we can talk.”

He spoke in a manner that suggested there was a future after that encounter. An outlandish notion.

“It could take a lifetime.”

“A lifetime and a day it is, then.”

Had he resolved all matters and decided to make promises, unencumbered by any problems?

Doubtful. He had not been followed by a distraught Lady Bridgerton calling him back to reason. None of his brothers came to take him away. Her own family's demands for explanations did not resound in the halls of the Danbury House. Everything was so still.

She dared not to ask, but she wanted to know. She had to know what had he done, what had he said and to whom. In a low tense voice she demanded an answer, but he remained silent. She urged him to speak, to name the reasons he gave in order to leave his house that night.

There was none.

She was struck by it, but she shouldn't have been. He did not use even a pretense to excuse his actions. The others did not know. Once again he was trying to keep her, them, in the shadows. Devastated, she instructed him to return at once. “Tell them that you needed some air and took a stroll on the street. It is ridiculous, I grant you, but you have demonstrated enough absurdity so far to not raise suspicion.”

He did not flinch at her insult; a reaction one could attribute to his earlier declaration to suffer her outbursts no matter how unbridled they would become. Should she push him to the edge? Could she not follow him?

“There is no return. I have no life to return to.”

There was his family, she told him, his responsibilities. And the worst of all, as he had not broken his engagement with her sister, there was a wedding in a week's time. He need to leave, she added. He could do with the reminding. They both could.

A mournful expression, a desperate gesture to reach for her hand was left unfinished. “I have no intention to renounce my family or my duty, but no wedding will take place between myself and Miss Edwina. If I go through with it, I will ruin everything I have not yet destroyed. It is a marriage I decided, of that I need no reminding.” He added to stop a rightfully anticipated interruption. “Being it my choice, it does not mean that I must honor my stupidity. It only means that as long as there is a chance to stop this madness I have to take it, and make things right.”

Rage was boiling in her chest. “I have lost count of the times I warned you about this. I objected against this damaged idea of a marriage you were fixated upon. I tried to reason with you but you thwarted me, you manipulated my sister and mama into believing the facade of the honorable and good man. The perfect gentleman. And now that your charade worked, sir, now that you got what you wanted, now that you have the life-”

“I have no life without you. I need no life without you. I dream no life without you.”

Damn you and your words.

“Without me?” The cry flew out of her lips sharply, pulling strength from her anger, to kill her own traitorous hope. “When did I give you leave to include me in your dreams?”

“This is the only thing you cannot deny me; you are the very essence of my dreams. Life is tragic in that regard. To allow us fools even our most deceitful fantasies.”

Such a hypocrite. Such a beautifully reckless liar. “Since when is poetry your chosen way? You thought it hollow once, as I recall.”

“As you may also recall, I said it is hollow unless accompanied by actions. I am prepared to act. If you let me.”

“I will not.”

“Will you condemn me then?”

“Condemn.” She repeated the word. It whirled in her mouth like a thorn, making her bleed. Was it she condemning him? How novel. “By that you imply it is in my power to offer salvation and I withhold it.”

“Do you not?”

“I should not wonder you believe that. You always thought me spiteful.”

“You have been spiteful. I have been arrogant and selfish.”

We have always been a perfect fit.

“To keep with this reviewing of our imperfections is to drown in misery.” He went on. “You must see that. We are so much more than what keeps us apart. Together, you and I-”

Someone knocked with force on the door. It should have been a pause from the meaningless torture but she could not be relieved. None of the Danbury footmen would make such-

Language that was not used in the Danbury House was heard mixed with sounds of struggle and then someone burst in. The carriage driver she had hired. When Kate asked what had been the matter she doubted her panic was as masked as she would have liked.

The driver apologized for the disturbance. The Viscount was at a loss for words at the scene that unfolded before him and did not correct the man's improper address when he called him Sir. He was more focused on the fact that the driver informed Kate that they should be gone soon.

If she could get the driver out quick enough, perhaps she could avert the disaster. She thanked him and gestured at her door, but luck had not been on her side that evening. James barged in seconds later while he was adjusting his peruke. He apologized properly and thusly alerted the driver to his earlier misconduct. The man seized the opportunity to correct himself, and turned to the Viscount, who having found his voice and wits, started asking questions.

The driver replied that he wanted to warn her of the danger of running late. The man insisted on delivering the news himself and not in a written message, as instructed, because he did not know how to write and James did not inspire trust apparently. But the driver did reassure her that even though he did not know to write he knew how to drive and there was no need to worry about that.

Any doubts the Viscount might had had about the man before him not being Lady Danbury's driver no longer existed. Unlike the driver, everyone in Lady Danbury's employment had manners that would honor the name of the family they served.

Lord Bridgerton went on with the queries that would lead him closer and closer to her secrets and her annoyance was turning to agony. She watched as he did not break his stare at the driver, every inch the formidable Viscount; jaw clenched, nostrils flaring. He demanded his answers and ignored her many wordy objections.

Once he knew almost everything, save the destination, Lord Bridgerton walked to the man, towering over him. He would extract that last piece of information as well.

Another protest from Kate was crushed by his tenacity to have the truth. He repeated his question about the destination, enunciating every word. To no avail, Kate tried to make the driver understand the dire need to lie, but the man had been gulping uncomfortably.

“Southampton, milord.”

Now that he had the truth, what would he do with it?

Lord Bridgerton, slowly turned, fixing a scowl at her and started pacing the floor. Three people, herself included, waited for him to react. Of all that had happened in the last half hour, that inaction from her part had to be the most shocking development.

When his mind stopped processing the information he wanted to know if the carriage was loaded. The driver nodded his confirmation and Lord Bridgerton sent him downstairs to wait for his word. As expected, the driver bowed to his authority and left, relieved to be away from his lordship's intense glare.

Without letting of the airs and graces of the great Viscount, he turned to her to ask if there was anything else she wished to collect from the house. As if waking from a dream Kate started yelling at him. She refused any right he might thought he had to do as he was doing, asking for things that did not concern him and giving orders left and right. And the most egregious thing; he really expected compliance.

He interrupted her, telling her that there was no time, at least according to the schedule she had set and repeated his question about her belongings.

“No.” It was not to answer his question. It stated that his impertinence would not be tolerated. He informed her that she would have to get used to the idea of answering him when asked, since he was escorting her to Southampton. Her cry must had reached the street.

Far calmer than she, he made it clear to her that at that point she was not in a position to allow him or forbid him anything. “The road at night is dangerous. Whether you like it or not, if you must leave, I must make sure you are safe. Now, do you have anything else you wish to take with you, Kate?”

Kate. Unlike his formal address earlier, those four letters in that order, in that meaning, seemed to have been on his lips quite often. And it scared her the way her whole body was on fire at the sound of his voice when he spoke it.

“I already have everything I wish to keep in my life.” From his angry look, she understood that the double meaning of the message had been delivered as intended.

But he was not the type who would not fight back.

“Any messages for your family to let them know of the reasons behind your cowardly flight?”

“Don't you dare!”

“Any letters, Kate?” He had noticed her reaction to her name and used the newfound weapon again. He had come prepared to act.

The Viscount seemed unaffected by her lack of response and began his search. When he found the notes, he turned to the footman and left instructions for them to be delivered to the ladies as soon as they got home. After that, he asked for ink and paper.

It was rather pointless, she knew it, but she asked what he was doing. When he said that he had a few messages to write she felt the need to remind him that he should stop and resume that activity in his own study in his house. As if she had not spoken he suggested that if she did not wish to be in his company, she could wait for him downstairs.

He laughed humorlessly when she mentioned that she did not have to wait for anyone and she could go downstairs and leave the house, whether he permitted it or not. He also offered the bitter reminder that the driver would not move until he gave the word, despite the fact that it was she that had paid him.

His lordship would use his status to get his way and there was precious little she could do to resist.

Furious she stalked out and called for Clara who was watching her with frightened eyes as she was giving her item after item. With almost punching movements she managed to put on her coat. Gloves, reticule and she was prepared to leave. But her path had obstacles. Kate collapsed on the stairs. She brought her elbows on her knees and buried her face in her hands. Apparently her state of fury was greatly subdued because she felt exhausted. Every waking moment her whole existence was fighting to ignore him, to deny him, to forget him and when all failed at least to love him less than the day before. And he had the nerve to speak of torment.

Is this the strength of your resolve, Kathani? Where's the anger you wanted to unleash? He expects it. He deserves it.

No, he would not have her anger. That strong and compulsive hold he had on her would be severed that night. She would refuse him a say on her life. She ran out of the house and got to the carriage. Every order to the driver to get going was ignored. Plain threats and fervent pleas did not work either. The man did not dare to disobey a man of the aristocracy and she cursed for every situation she was not allowed to decide for herself because a man, any man, thought he knew better.

The comfort of a private carriage had outweighed the option of the stagecoach. Now she wished she had chosen differently. In a crowded coach and with only one trunk to travel with, she would have her freedom instead of all her earthly possessions but it would be worth it.

At some point the Viscount graced her with his presence. He spoke briefly with the driver about where their first stop would be on the way to Southampton. The confirmation that her destination had not changed caused a strange surprise. His willingness to help her was not a convincing ploy.

When he got in, he sat on the opposite bench and signaled the driver to start.

Before he had knowledge of her plans he had been nervous and vulnerable. But as time passed he seemed more determined and assured.

Now he was a threat.

Any other man that would not have vexed her so.

Any other man would not have made you love him so.

In heavy and stiff silence each waited for the other to speak.

…

An hour had almost passed.

When it seemed that he would explode unless he spoke his mind, Anthony told her that she should had opted for a stagecoach.

He pointed out that she would have to carry far less things, but it would be worth it.

Miss Sharma's quick and successful getaway, was the end of his comment and he could not avoid the sarcasm.

She emphasized that she was not escaping the law, to which he replied that she was trying to escape something. An observation, he clarified, not an attempt to goad her. She asked him to keep his observations to himself as she had no need of them.

With a bitter expression, he assured her that the impression had been made. Even more bitter was his voice when he added. “You are running away, Kate. It is a coward's mistake. You even left your dog behind! Is this the love you have for him? You took care of him, you made him learn your love and depend on it and now you abandon the poor creature to its own devices?”

“I abandon no one.” Her eyes were shooting daggers. “Newton cannot follow me where I am going. My employers do not allow it. But I have found a good home for him. Hyacinth will take care of him-”

“Hyacinth. My sister- As her guardian, I don't remember being consulted on the matter.” He was flabbergasted. Had she really expected him to live with her sister, her dog and occasionally with her mother and still be denied the presence of the only member of the Sharma family he wanted in his life?

“You would have objected?”

No he wouldn't have. He would love that canine menace and let himself be tortured by it just as he did with her. “It is peculiar, though. You would leave your dog on my doorstep, hoping that my sister will take care of him?”

She scoffed. “Hyacinth is a child and Newton is adorable company, I do not see how it wouldn't work, but no. It was her idea. We discussed it when she accompanied the Duchess at the Danbury House.”

“I see. So, now if you must leave someone you love you make arrangements for them to be cared for. I wonder what arrangements you have in mind for me.”

“I don't need to make such arrangements for you. You made them yourself.”

The anger that sustained their arguing gave way to the sullen realization that what had brought them trapped in that carriage was not an easily resolved issue with a lively banter. And since neither dared to touch the open wound that was his engagement to her sister, more silence followed.

…

A sudden obstacle in his way, made the driver pull the reins and bring the horses to a wheeling halt, making Kate fall forward from the sudden movement. In order to avoid him, Anthony watched her targeting the floor and landing on her shoulder. Immediately he crouched beside her.

“Are you hurt, my love?” His hands moved from her waist to her shoulders and then to her neck; desperately looking for a sign of any harm.

“Unhand me this instant, my lord, and refrain from using such terms. In fact refrain from addressing me altogether. This journey is already an awful ordeal. We do not need to embellish it with sentimental drivel fit only for the naive. Have I made myself clear?”

He could not have imagined that a simple question as that one could have caused an eruption of rage, but even in that moment of crisis, Kate would not relent. It was as unwise as it was bold, but he could not have stopped himself from worrying at her cry and the sight of her holding her arm and wincing, any less than he could have stopped himself from finally calling her as he should; his love. She was and would always be.

However, he moved aside and in a heroic display of independence she crawled back to her seat.

Anthony got out to see what had caused the stop. As he had suspected, it was merely the driver's incompetence. The thought that he nearly missed her and she would be alone with that nitwit frightened him. When he returned inside he seized the opportunity and sat beside her. His hope was renewed when she did not send him back to his original seat, but soon he realized that in his current position it was easier for her to ignore him, keeping her eyes on the road.

When her breathing was calmer, he dared to ask again of her pain, adhering to her wish to not use any special form of address. It wasn't serious, she told him, her shoulder was only a little tender to the touch. It did not quiet his fear and he pressed for more details, but she had given all the answers she would give.

She had grown restless in her seat, continuously shifting to find a comfortable position until her foot kicked something on the floor. Both of them looked down and when Anthony realized that it was the box with the ring that had fallen from his pocket, his heart stopped. It was too soon. She was ready to see no ring, to hear no promises.

With surprisingly quick reflexes, considering her hurt shoulder she reached for it and only a fraction of time later he did the same. When his fingers brushed against her gloved hand she snatched the box, drawing away from his touch.

She opened the box and saw the little treasure it hid inside. Whether she had understood what the ring implied, what purpose did it serve, he could not tell. What he knew was that her face had softened with a small smile on her lips. “Your grandmother's ring.”

How could she know that? The question must had been painted on his face.

“At Aubrey Hall, I visited the library to get a book and I accidentally walked in when your mother was selecting the pieces she meant to bring back to London. She invited me to stay with her. This one, she told me, was for your brother's bride.” That had to be the longest answer she had given him, without insulting or attacking him. Without taking the ring out of the box she ran a finger on the gemstone. “I don't know why she showed them to me.”

He couldn't guess either, but he would have loved to see them together; his mother spending time with Kate. What a lovely thought.

“It is very beautiful.” A final touch and she shut the box closed. “You shouldn't have taken it from your brother.” She went on and placed it in his hands.

The reminder that the ring was not his to use could never be enough to prevent him from doing what was in his mind.

“He never liked it.” He lied to her. Anthony had no idea if Benedict even remembered which particular piece was intended for him and even if it had been Benedict's absolute favorite, his brother would have to taste disappointment.

“His bride may like it.”

“Mine already does.”

“I.. I did not mean-” She exhaled, flushed. “Oh, you are incorrigible. Beyond-”

“What I am is hopeful, if not hell-bent, to make you see that my wishes are unwavering, my mind unchanged, my heart set.”

“You are also unaware of the fact that you cannot take back what happened that day. I know you want to, but you cannot.”

The hell she had been through would always be his greatest sin.

“I was scared, Kate. It is not an excuse, it is the truth. My love for you terrified me and I tried to hide from it. But-”

“Did you not think I was just as afraid? We could have fought together, but you abandoned me alone in that fear. Now you promise and promise. What if you decide that something else is more important than these promises? How many times must I collect the pieces you break until nothing is salvageable?”

“Nothing is more important than you,” he said frantically, taking her hand in his. “I have learned my lesson. I will never leave you alone again.”

“Perhaps it would have been for the best if you had never caught me before I left.”

“No.” There was more conviction in that two letter word than in anything else he had said. “It would change nothing, only delay the inevitable. Whether it would be tonight, two weeks, two months, or two years from now, I would come to find you. There is no place where you would go that I would not follow. I would spend all my remaining days looking for you in every corner of the earth to tell you that I love you. Even with my dying breath.”

“A lifetime and a day.” She said nothing more and turned to the window again. He kept looking at her face to not miss even the slightest sign of change, the faintest trace of hope. That night would be the longest of his life.

…

The beginning of the conversation had been about their sense of duty towards their families. It had been their common ground and Anthony had hoped that it would bring them closer. But an ill-advised remark about her decision to leave her family behind was not well received. He had not tried to hide his true feelings on the matter even at the night of the Hearts and Flowers ball when he had first heard of it. He had been torn between understanding her need to go and deep resentment for her willingness to leave. Of course this resentment had been rooted in his own hurt feelings, but her reasoning was correct; Miss Edwina and her mama would be well provided for, they would be protected and it would not be her responsibility to stay any longer. She could and should leave.

But then the situation escalated. As it always did.

The circumstances of Kate's departure were brought up and on those Anthony had many things to say. Most of which he yelled. He did not remember the exact moment he had started yelling, but he was certain that it was shortly after she let it slip that Lady Danbury insisting on that stupid dinner was not a coincidence but a well planned ruse to conceal her escape, which meant that his next meeting with the dragon would be an unpleasant confrontation, and several moments before Kate doubted once again that he had any right to question her decisions.

“I had a problem to solve and I did.”

“And what a solution you came up with. Escaping like a thief in the night to avoid facing your family.”

“In what manner should I have left?” She retorted. “What conditions would meet your convenience?”

“It is about your safety, not about my convenience.” He roared. “Although yes, it would be extremely inconvenient to suffer the agony of not knowing what had become of you, until I received word that you were well. Oh, but of course you wouldn't have sent word. Because my anguish is not your concern, correct?” He took a few moments to calm down, but he couldn't so he kept yelling. “I used to believe you were capable of rational thinking, but now... What possessed you to choose that imbecile out there for such a journey? Did you consider all the dangers or the only thing that mattered to you was a dramatic exit?”

“Oh, so now I am an irrational idiot, prone to useless dramatics, as well as spiteful.”

“Well, if you are not, you are acting like one.”

“And those are the words of a gentleman.”

“Yes. I believe they are.”

She leaned back and as much as her hurting shoulder allowed her, she crossed her arms on her chest. “Which begs the question. If this is your opinion of me why don't you stop the carriage and leave me be?”

“Because even if you are an irrational idiot, prone to dramatics, on my best days I am far worse than you and I love you as you love me and I know we will not be happy without each other.”

“This might be true, but it is too late.”

That was the only thing he wished she wouldn't say.

…

They would spend the night at an inn. Anthony himself had not been in those parts before but Colin had and he gave a raving review of that small place. Hospitable, clean and peaceful. Thankfully one of his brother's stories that had been stuck in his head was actually helpful.

The problem was Kate's persistence on disagreeing with him.

At his simple suggestion that they should tell the innkeeper that they were a married couple, a simple and respectable story, she shook her head as if he had suggested they would rob the place. What else could they claim and not invite scrutinizing looks and questions? Her idea to appear as a widow and he the solicitor of her dead husband was such a ludicrous one, it did not warrant even the slightest argument against it. So did most of her propositions.

When he asked her how many questions was she willing to answer about her dead husband, his family, her family, their marriage, his death, the children she had with him, she asked why the same intrusive questions would not be posed if they said they were a married couple.

“Because to play the part of your loving husband comes naturally to me, but I cannot stand next to you and pretend I do not love you as I do. It would be a terrible complication if I am supposed to be your dead husband's solicitor, don't you agree?”

“Fine.” She consented after a few minutes, when she accepted that this was their only viable option. “Meera.” She said the name, softly, looking out the window. “This is the name I will use.”

He nodded. “Matthew and Meera Grant. It sounds right.”

“If only it were.”

He had to convince her it did not have to be a lie.

…

The problem of the driver was easily dealt with. When he was presented with a handsome payment, he forgot anything he knew about their true identities and with the warning that Anthony would know whose lips were loose in the event of them being discovered the matter was closed.

They walked in and were greeted by a smiling and kind old woman who was working past her time. When Anthony made the introductions, Kate clasped his hand to show the affection Meera had for Matthew and perhaps allow herself to touch the man she loved. If all she could do was to live vicariously through the identity of a woman who did not exist, she would. When the old woman went away and did not pay attention to their movements, Kate tried to loosen her grip but Anthony held her hand in place. With his thumb he caressed her gloved fingers. He did not let go even when they were inside the room. Once the door closed he pulled her and held her against him and whispered in her ear.

“It can be true, my love. Say the word and we travel north this instant. We can make it happen.”

She believed she had done all her crying but more unshed tears were now streaming on her face, when she hit his chest with her fists and yelled again that it had been too late. They had backed themselves into a corner and there was no path they could cross and find happiness.

He implored her to never say that, never accept it. They had all the time in the world.

“You asked my sister to marry you. You brought her between us. You cannot have her removed and choose me next. You cannot!”

…

It had been a mistake. He must had repeated it so many times, that the words had started losing their meaning. But accepting the blame and persuading Kate that they could get past it were not two correlative actions. And she was right on almost all her accusations, except when it was about her sister.

“You used my sister and then left her.”

“We used each other and I did not leave her. I simply left.”

Kate did not appreciate the importance of the detail. “She loves you.”

Anthony reminded her that according to her own words her sister was impressionable. When she nodded he went on to give her his own estimation.

“Miss Edwina gets easily distracted with a nice story, mainly one she creates on her own; that of a love match. It is nothing but a vacant lie that she tried to fill with my promises. In those circumstances yes, I believed she confused love for me with love for the life she would have with me.”

“She does not have a calculating mind and would never choose the most profitable match. She was raised on love stories where everything ended happily. You cannot blame her for wanting this. For thinking she could have it.”

Anthony understood most of what she said. “She believed love was easy?”

“I deceived her, by making it sound easy as breathing. I had to ease her worries for the Season.”

“We all played out parts in deceiving her. It does not mean that Miss Edwina did not get too comfortable in her deception to see the truth. She bothered herself very little with worrying if she knew the man who was standing next to her. At one point, I believe she even took Colin's arm in her haste, believing it was me.”

Kate pointed out that his brothers made greater efforts to get to know her than he did. It was amusing that his lack of effort angered Kate but Miss Edwina did not even notice it. And Anthony told Kate as much.

“Even tonight she would remain oblivious of my absence unless she wanted to tell me something about the wedding or the honeymoon or someone informed her of it.”

“You make her sound willfully self-absorbed.”

“Until the engagement ball did she once ask you why you were so distant?”

Kate had no answer. Which spoke volumes.

“Kate, I heard how you talked to her than evening. You had little patience and no sympathy for her naivety. For the first time you made her confront her own shortcomings. Do not go back into sheltering her from everything. If you feel guilty about us, treating Miss Edwina like a child, will only spoil her more and hurt you. I cannot allow this. You made mistakes with her. Anyone who raises a child makes mistakes-”

“Stealing her intended is not a mistake. It is a horrible betrayal.”

“I am not a pair of gloves to be stolen, Kate. It is my choice to be here. But apart from that if she loved me, perhaps it would have been a betrayal but she doesn't. Now, she will feel entitled to attention, she will throw a tantrum, we cannot avoid that, but eventually she will grow up like we all do and move on. As all notoriety will fall on me for the end of this engagement there is no reason to believe that she will not find a suitable suitor and why not? even happiness. If not this year then surely the next. I sent my explanations in a letter. She must have read it by now.”

“A letter? You break your engagement with her in a letter-”

“It was all I could manage within the time-frame I was given, between learning that you were leaving and the moment of your departure. Losing you to spend hours on explanations to her was never an option.”

“You could have done the explaining before you deserted the dinner.”

“And by the time I would come to find you, you would be gone.” He shook his head. “Unacceptable."

“So we have done nothing wrong? I am free to absolve myself of any responsibility, is that it?”

“You need to accept that it is not your responsibility to fix her life for her. Guide her as you have always done but do not sacrifice yourself. You did warn her against accepting my proposal. She should have listened but she didn't. She will recover, be sure of that. I wish I could say the same for my own sisters.”

The scandal would have a negative impact on the marriage prospects of his sisters. Kate pointed out that Eloise did not want to marry. And he agreed but he added that even Eloise Bridgerton might wish to change her mind.

“Anyway Eloise is not the problem.”

Neither was Hyacinth. His younger sister was too young indeed for such worries. He even joked that until it would be her time, talk of the infamous Viscount would have lost its impact. Then Kate mentioned Francesca who would be débutante next year. He was certain it would be difficult for her even if she would not blame him. Kate seemed to count on the Duke's and the Duchess's help, to which Anthony nodded. He hoped it would be enough.

“There is a way to avoid all of it-”

“There is not.”

“But-”

“A scandal of a broken engagement is far better than a scandal of a divorce.”

That ceased her objections on that subject. Now he had to make her believe he could make her happy.

…

She listened to him; all the wonderful details of their life together. To stop him from promising her the world when she wanted only him, she kissed him. He responded to her kiss, softly and then more hungrily like it was sustenance. Numerous times they had come close to this and every time they had to stop. So for every other moment they had lost she kissed him and held him. And for every moment they might not have, she wanted all of him. All her past and future selves desired that man and she would have him.

Even if it would be for one night.

Their clothes were piles on the floor.

On the narrow bed of their room in that small inn, in that unremarkable slot of earth she was his and he was hers.

…

Rest would not come. Kate was lying in Anthony's arms, afraid of the dawn that would come. The future seemed so uncertain, with no good options. Her relationship with Edwina would suffer a lot. Her mama might even turn against her. Would Lady Bridgerton welcome her in her family? Now that Kate was the reason Anthony's honor would be questioned and the girls' prospects would worsen? Society would certainly abuse their privilege; they would devour every detail of their lives they could get their gnarled fingers on and treat each person affected by the scandal like a pariah. In that hostile environment it would be ever harder to let go of the hurtful past and mend her relationship with Anthony. That would be her life if she would choose to follow him.

On the other hand, if she did not choose him one word was enough to make her shiver with dread. Separation. Permanent separation from the man she loved was at the threshold of that inn door and she did not even turn to look at it.

And then she knew that even if it would take some time to heal from the pain of the last month, even if she would have to fight strenuously to rebuild her relationship with her sister, even if she would have to face every last judgmental old crone in London, Anthony was the future she wanted.

All night, little by little she had been tying herself to that promise. She was building herself in that life.

But as she had come to that realization, Anthony had come to another.

“I want you to know this. We do not have to return to that life. We can go far away from anything that might hurt you.”

She could not agree to that. Months, years even, were spent in planning her future away from her mama and sister and Kate knew the cost of it. Anthony's plans were never about living a life away from his family. There was no doubt he meant it, when he was promising her that they could leave, but she was certain that he did not completely understand the ramifications of his decision. Not for the others in his life, but for himself. His big, challenging, wonderful family was the core of his life, his respect for his father's legacy and his devotion to his duty were too important to let it all burn even for her. He would never accept it as something different than a complete failure.

“Benedict,” he went on, trying to convince himself of his own words, “with my disastrous example to avoid and the Duke's and the Duchess' help, can be far better at it than I have ever been and I can live with that. And if I have you I will live happily.”

Kate did not disagree immediately. “And we will live as Matthew and Meera Grant would? Will we even assume those identities as our own?”

His faint smile was full of sadness. “We could have their quiet life. Can you imagine it?” he struggled through the words, but he would brave it all if it was what she wanted.

Because it was. Before she met him, a quiet life had been her dream. To manage a house of her own, a modest one. To enjoy simple pleasures and everyday life. But the beauty of dreaming was its ever-changing nature. Her dream was now taking the shape of Anthony and their huge chaotic family of Bridgertons and Sharmas and Aubrey Hall with its vast beauty where her children would grow up.

That was the key. She knew the mention of children would trigger something in him. Anthony would never accept his children to be raised away from their birthright. “Our children would grow up happily in a little country house. But would you be happy with that?”

“Kate,” he began but even he did not know what his argument could be.

“You said you did not intend to renounce your family. But what you suggest now it is exactly that.”

“I also said I was prepared to leave this life in search of you.”

“But it is not the same.” Looking for her, even if it took years, he would be in a constant state of change and movement, restless and agitated, but with a purpose in mind, a goal to achieve. But settling for a life away from what he loved, knowing what he could have... The pain would always live inside him and it would fester into bitterness and misery. “I do not want this for us.”

“Kate,” he whispered. “Is this how you truly feel? Do you want to come home with me?”

She picked up the ring from the table.

“Tell me what you feel, Kate.”

“I feel that you have a question to ask now, Lord Bridgerton.”

“My love...”

The nightmare would never come again.

…

Bridgerton House, the night of the dinner

Lady Danbury walked in the study. Benedict lifted his head to acknowledge her presence.

“What was the noise?” His mother asked, wiping the corner of her eye with her index finger.

“Miss Edwina is screaming at Lord and Lady Sheffield who saw fit to insult Miss Sharma about her absence tonight. I suspect they would have preffered to insult her in person.”

“Let's hope she maintains this attitude when she finds out the rest of the story.”

“Leave Edwina to me.” Lady Mary was standing at the opening of the door, her arms crossed over her chest. “Well?”

Lady Danbury took a step closer and for a second Benedict really thought that her shadow on the wall was shaped like a dragon. “Did he do it, then?”

“The ring is missing.” Benedict put back the volumes that had been moved. The shelves appeared untouched, as if Anthony had not walked in there, as if he was about to come in. “So, yes. I believe he did.”

“He will propose to Kate? While he is still engaged to Edwina?” Lady Mary cried appalled.

“So disappointing.” His mother kept repeating. “Why did he leave this way?”

“If he had been anymore delayed there would be no point in leaving at all.”

Three pairs of eyes were fixed on Lady Danbury after those cryptic words and she shed light on them by informing them of Miss Sharma's intention to travel that very night to Southampton, to board a ship that would take her to India. Lady Mary's reaction to the news was that of a woman who realized that her entitlement to anger was very limited by her previous neglect to provide meaningful support to the daughter who had to fend for herself in all things.

“I think we need to wait until he either returns, or a messenger comes.”

So they did. Benedict hoped his brother would be successful. Their mother's wishes did not diverge from his, but she wished for less complications for the family. Lady Mary's loyalty was tested, even if her love was not torn between her two daughters. And Lady Danbury did not deny that she felt she should have either been more deeply implicated and impactful or she should have stayed completely out of the way, regretting her involvement as it was.

A knock on the door got them on their feet. A footman Lady Danbury identified as James, delivered a message to Benedict's hands that read,

Brother,

I know you will hate me. More than the others ever will. Don't try to fight it. It shall give you enough strength to see the family through this mess. Kate is set to leave tonight. The moment I write these words, I have no news for you, only my steadfast intention to follow her for as long as she allows me. Even though I have her heart I am unworthy of it, so I cannot be sure of the outcome. But I cannot rest if I don't make any and all possible attempts to earn her trust. I will send you my information as soon as I am able. Even if it is to send me a piece of paper that tells me to go to hell, please, do send it.

Tell mother that I am sorry for failing her.

Tell Daphne that now I know she was right. In everything.

Tell everyone I love them, and I wish I had been better for them

Godspeed

Anthony

P.S. Your take from this, I hope, is that when the time comes, your choice must only be true to your heart.

“There's a note for Miss Edwina as well.” Benedict offered the note to her mother. He did not need to know the contents of it to be certain it would not be a pleasant read for the young woman. But given his brother's desperation he could excuse this indiscretion.

“What does this mean? He's gone? Never to return? Will I never see him again?” His mother cried.

Benedict, oblivious of any means in his power to help his mother, did not know what to tell her.

“Is there anything to be done for them?” Lady Mary asked.

His mother's eyes widened at the fresh hope. The Sharmas had the Queen's favor and protection. If the Sharmas would not demand Anthony's head on a platter, perhaps there was still a chance that Queen would have mercy on them, if Anthony and Miss Sharma would decide to return. With a hand on her chest, she asked in return. “Are you willing to fight for them, Lady Mary?”

“I do not wish to lose my child and never see her again, Lady Bridgerton. The same as you. The rest I do not know.”

“We don't know if there's a them, mother. He says so. Miss Sharma has not changed her plans.”

“She did not manage to forget him in the relative safety of the distance she put between them,” said Lady Mary. “I believe she loves him enough to accept him.”

His mother put a hand on Lady Mary's shoulder. “As does he. Be sure of that, Lady Mary.”

Lady Danbury mimicked her. Lady Mary had one matron on each side. Support, understanding, comfort.

“We must move to make sure we don't lose them, for they have not lost us.” Lady Danbury's words sealed their decision. “Shall we?”

THE END

Chapter Text

Same as every day, Kate woke up with Anthony’s kiss before their morning routine of being late to the breakfast table. Well he was being late. As a married lady, who could break her fast in bed, Kate simply let everything grow cold on the tray, chasing to sate a different appetite.

Eventually, the day's duties summoned them. The soft knocks on the door increased in urgency and frequency.

Kate released Anthony from their bed. Propped on one bent elbow she watched him preparing for his day through the half open door to his dressing room, getting out of bed only to fasten his waistcoat buttons and steal one more kiss before letting him disappear in his study for hours on end.

Then it was her turn to dress the part of the Viscountess. With Newton in her arms, Kate sauntered down the corridor, trying to decide at which point she’d disrupt Anthony’s neat schedule but her own plans were thwarted.

A vibrant chorus of Bridgertons, led by Violet, was waiting for her in the drawing room. The youngest ones were eager to take the corgi to the garden. Eloise was looking for someone to keep her mother occupied which wasn’t too much of an ask, given that Violet was looking for Kate anyway. The grand ball for the wedding anniversary was fast approaching and one more dress fitting was necessary, another spot in the house needed to be covered with flowers, one more mind numbing detail about a guest Kate had to remember.

The pressure of society’s expectations still weighed heavily on her mother-in-law. Franseca’s perfect debut and complete absence of scandal during the season helped mollify the crones but Violet did not want them to simply end the season without trouble; she wanted them to thrive.

Edwina’s recent engagement to Prince Friedrich would be the crown jewel of course. No direct reference would be made from the family during the ball, but Violet in the days preceding the festive anniversary let everyone know that “Oh, yes the Viscount and the Viscountess will travel with Lady Mary to Prussia for the Prince’s wedding to the Viscountess’ younger sister. We are all delighted for the couple.”

The truth was that everyone was relieved because an era of strife and bitter rows with slumped doors and silent tears had ended. As soon as the Queen introduced Edwina to her nephew and she became the center of his attention, her sister was all sweetness and smiles. It wasn’t a lie, despite what most people suspected. Edwina was spoiled and getting what she wanted would help. Not the greatly advantageous match to royalty, but someone to love her and cherish her. It was her the first person Edwina had sought to tell the great news, even before their mama knew. The moment she had left the room Anthony reminded Kate, “I told you she’d be fine. More than fine, actually. She’ll be a Princess.” Kate could see that he was satisfied with the good outcome of Edwina’s courtship with the Prince because it meant fewer worries for himself and Kate, but he was also comforted by the fact that Edwina’s household would be across the channel in a relatively safe distance from English soil. Which Kate thought was for the best too.

That was why she regarded Violet’s newest rush of activity with an eased mind. She kept nodding at everything she was being told, knowing that Violet would change her mind at least twice before a final decision, as the butler brought in the correspondence.

“This one is pressing, my Lady.” The butler pointed at the small folded parchment on top. It was the strangest too, for it bore no special mark. Smooth red wax sealed it together. His cryptic tone made her heed him. Kate was about to ask Violet to reconvene later for the rest, but her mother-in-law was already too absorbed in her own messages. Kate slipped from the room to read the letter in private.

My darling wife, my dearest love.

In a few days we will be celebrating our first wedding anniversary with grandeur. Fear not. It does not bring me joy, this public display, but you do. You make everything better. This past year with you has been the happiest of my life. Waking up in your arms, living in your light, my love, is the only heaven I will ever seek. I could add more risque details, but for fear of this falling in the wrong hands, I shall not. However, I reserve the option to demonstrate my most inner thoughts. Which brings me to the purpose of this letter. There’s another, secret anniversary only you and I know of, that marks our union. The night we spent in that small inn.

On this day, I wish for us to be there to renew our vow to always choose our path together.

Give me a nod, my Meera,

Yours in eternal love,
Matthew

Kate did not rush into the study to give him her very enthusiastic response and not for lack of desire. The plan demanded more flair than that. As discreetly as she could she informed his valet that he needed to pack for a two day journey to the countryside. Her lady’s maid was charged with preparing outfits that Kate could take care of on her own. Of all the siblings, Benedict was the one she let know of the short trip they would make.

“Not that you asked for it.” He gave her a quick kiss on her hand. “Or even need it, but you may go with my blessing.”

“Violet will erupt of course.”

“The Duchess and I will contain the tremors and clear the smoke. Just enjoy yourselves.”

One last thing remained.

…

Anthony had never been a particularly patient individual. Whether he was anticipating something or not his nervous nature sought quick results. Time, his time primarily, was not to be wasted.

So, it went without saying that he organized his day to work from home thinking that he’d receive Kate’s reply to his letter within a quarter of an hour since he sent the footman to leave it on the pile of the morning post. Five times he checked with John if the delivery had failed. Five times, John reassured him that the Viscountess most certainly read the note. The delay was curious but he assumed that his wife had her reasons for keeping him in suspense. At luncheon Kate was Lady Danbury’s guest -a very convenient last minute development- so he did not see her. Benedict’s smirks were a tell that something was going on, but Anthony did not falter. It was a matter of principle. He would give her until dinner time, which he made sure she would attend. Of course, he hoped that she would relent sooner than that.

The footman delivered the afternoon post.

Despite his years, Anthony acted like a schoolboy when he searched for the type of epistolary paper Kate preferred. The feeling of victory when spotting the lavender piece in the sea of white was unmatched.

A delicate M was written across it, beside the seal. Breaking it, Kate’s handwriting made him smile.

My dearest husband, my most beloved,

My Matthew

In response to your latest missive,

Your Meera wishes you to look up from the paper so that she can see your handsome face.

Confused, he obeyed the instruction.

Kate was standing there with the most divine smile on her face. “We leave at dawn, Mr Grant.”

…

It was an enjoyable journey. Nice weather, beautiful scenery and a skilled driver keeping a steady pace. A stark difference from the first time they were covering that distance, both of them deep in agitation and heartbreak. Now Anthony’s greatest concern was to make good time.

Holding his hand, Kate was peacefully gazing outside the window, taking in the view while Newton was jumping from her knees to his at a dizzying speed.

“It is a good thing the window has a glass or we’d have lost him to those fields.”

Kate wrinkled her nose, petting the corgi. “He’s excited for the journey.”

“The journey?” Anthony scoffed. “I would have sworn that he displays the same excitement at tea time or when someone enters the room.”

“Especially when you enter the room, my love.”

It was true. Sometimes, depending on the way the dog expressed his love, it could be entertaining too.

…

There had been some work done in the building but it mostly resembled Kate’s fondest memories of it. Turning to ask Anthony what he thought she noticed that he had the same contemplative expression and caught his hand between her palms.

“Here we are again.”

There again, but so different. So sure of each other. So in love. So in tune and constantly interrupted by Newton’s barking.

Just in time their driver followed them inside and Kate handed him Newton’s leech. “Let him run a little and then have some rest.”

“Yes, mi- Ma’am.” The driver’s mistake could have betrayed them, but thankfully the innkeeper had only just joined them.

“Hello.”

The woman that they had met at the inn was still there welcoming the travelers. Kate had doubted that she’d remember them among all the other guests that walked through the inn’s doorstep and Anthony was inclined to agree. They were both mistaken. It took the woman a few moments to register their faces but she did remember them.

“Mr and Mrs Grant!” she exclaimed, coming around the big counter. Upon their departure, it had not seemed prudent to correct the information regarding their identities. For her they’d always be the merchant and his wife. “Welcome to the Lion and the Rose, once more.”

Anthony greeted her with a nod. “We are happy to be in these parts again. We were hoping for a room?”

“The same one we used the other time, if it is available,” Kate added. “It was-”

“The big one on the left. I remember.” The amount of details she could recollect was impressive. “It is available. How fortunate. Come, come.”

Led by the innkeeper, Kate climbed the narrow stairwell holding her husband’s arm without pretending as she did all those months ago. Now the game of being Meera Grant was only that. A game.

A desperate hug to bind them together was no longer necessary. Now, Anthony enveloped her playfully in his arms, dotting kisses on her neck. “Mrs Grant… how I have missed you.”

It would have been so easy to fall in love with him at that moment if she hadn’t already been. “I have missed you too, Mr Grant.”

…

“Will we go downstairs for dinner with everyone else?” Anthony asked, inserting his own answer in the question.

“We could spend the evening with some company,” Kate teased him. “There will be plenty of opportunities for you, husband, to find new ways to increase the revenue of your business…”

“Yes. Yes, I could. It is my duty to improve our circumstances.” The only circumstances he cared to improve currently were to settle them deeper under the covers with no thoughts of leaving the bed.

“That is good to know, my love.” Kate wiggled closer, her back against his chest. Anthony rested his chin on her shoulder, sometimes pulling back to brush his lips across her skin. “Building our future for our son.” She brought his hand on her belly. Not just a wish.

“Our son…”

The words every married man hoped to hear. The continuation of the family line, yes, but so much more.

A child born out of his and Kate’s great love.

“Loving you has been my greatest happiness.”

“Being loved by you has been my greatest privilege.”

Those had been their wedding vows. And they would repeat them for as long as they lived. Together.