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It had been a long time since he had seen this particular dream. Several years, in fact.
It was a warm summer night, thick and humid and uncomfortable. The children were finally asleep. As was mother. Aubrey Hall was eerily silent.
And papa was dead.
Anthony walked down the long corridor to the Viscount's Chambers, to where they had laid his father to rest. In this dream, he always walked that way, never able to turn back.
Fully knowing what lay in wait for him. Yet moving mechanically, like a wound up toy, unable to change course.
The chamber loomed around him, as it always did. He could hear the beat of his mangled heart under his cracked ribs. On the bed, his father lay, still and silent underneath a white sheet. In every nightmare, he pulled back the sheets. In every nightmare, his father's bloated blue visage haunted him.
Only this time, it was not papa.
The corpse under the bedclothes is smaller, angles sharper. His heart thuds in his throat as he approaches, and pulls down the covers to see her face.
Dark. Pale. Sunken and bloodless. Eyes milky, face a mask of grief. Black hair strewn over a blood drenched pillow.
The nightmare bleeds, and Anthony wakes up screaming.
Kathani was dead.
It did not matter that he knew she still breathed.
Kathani could die.
It was his fault. Gentlemen did not do what he did to her. Not without, at the very least, declaring his intentions. And he did have intentions, dear God, he wanted everything with her.
He wanted to love her, to marry her, to watch her play pall mall at Aubrey Hall.
To look on as she presented Franny and Hy to the Queen.
To hold her when she birthed his baby.
He wanted and wanted and shuddered, because she was a goddess and he was half of a man, who had no heart to give her. She belonged to the heavens, and he was a creature chained to hell.
He had gone where no mortal should have gone, and he did not know what to do anymore.
My fault.
Myfaultmyfaultmyfaultmyfault.
Her death would never not be his fault. But Anthony was a man of action. No matter how hard it was, he got the job done.
It was this trait that made him a rich man and a powerful viscount.
It was this trait that let him point a gun at the boy he had loved as dearly as he loved his own brothers.
He does not have the courage to see her pale and still. He cannot bear that no one on this Earth will see her shining eyes again.
But he cannot bear not knowing. He will not survive losing her like this. But he must atone his sins.
And that alone gives him courage.
Lady Danbury probably should have realised who it was pounding on her door at the crack of dawn.
"We wondered when you'd come."
He does not hear her.
" Is she alive?"
The boy was frantic. Sweaty, pale, eyes darting around the room as he runs up to her sick chamber, as if guided by some unseen force.
"Lord Bridgerton-"
"Please. I cannot bear it anymore."
Nothing on Earth could stop him.
Miss Sharma was laid still on her bed, clean, in a fresh nightgown, scrubbed with soap and detergent. In the dim light it seemed that she was only sleeping.
He stared.
She breathed.
Slowly, as if dragged by the same unholy power, he approached her.
Slowly, not taking his eyes off her face, he sat lightly on the edge of her bed. Placed one shaking hand on her cool cheek. Let out a choked breath.
Agatha Danbury was not one for fanciful thoughts. But the whole house seemed to loosen and relax after that.
Her face was not blue.
The pillows were not blood stained.
The nightgown was dry and a vague scent of spirit wafted from around her.
In the faint light of day, she seemed to glow.
Her skin was baby soft under his hand.
Kathani.
Alive. Asleep.
Edwina Sharma rarely knew what to expect from anything these days, but when Lady Danbury suggested that perhaps she would prefer to stay away from her sister's room, she knew that only two things were possible.
The first was that her sister was dying rather gruesomely.
The second was that the viscount was finally here.
Judging by her mother's dry eyes and anxious glances, it was probably the second.
Edwina wondered what it would be like to confront the man she would have married. There was a lot of anger at him. Righteous anger. How dare he make a fool of her like that? With her sister, no less!
Half sister.
And Kate, too! How should she lie so barefaced to both of them? When had she become this keeper of terrible secrets? Where was her strong and dependable sister?
Half sister.
If Kate died without waking up, Edwina would drown twice.
Once in grief. Once in guilt.
Half sister.
She wished she hadn't said it.
Suddenly it did not matter that Lord Bridgerton was in her room. Edwina wanted her sister. She wanted her sister alive and happy and if that meant watching her marry the man she had wanted, then so be it. She would rage at him instead.
But the man at her sister's bedside was not the handsome viscount who had charmed her. That man had been charming, confident, commanding.
This man was none of those things.
He sat on Kate's bed, hunched, breath shuddering, pressing her limp hand to his face. This man was barely holding on to the threads of sanity. Restless hands, haunted eyes and all.
Strange, Edwina thought. He was the perfect gothic romantic hero, and yet there would have been no romance in a marriage to him.
At least not for her.
"Please don't ask me to leave."
"I wasn't going to."
He started. And rose to his feet.
"Miss Edwina."
"Lord Bridgerton."
The silence is awkward.
"I suppose I should go, miss Ed-"
"You should stay."
He sits back down.
"Thank you."
The silence is deafening.
"She has feelings for you."
"Yes."
"What you feel for her, is it lust?"
"Not on my part."
"So it is love.
I do not fault you. She is easy to love. When did your dalliance start?"
He sighed. Pressed a kiss onto Kate's hand.
"There was no dalliance. Your sister made sure of it.
But there were unchaperoned moments. Things that went further than they should have. But it was all me. Your sister only ever wanted the best for you. Until you left me at the altar, she made no overtures.
I hurt her terribly, just to convince her to confess her feelings. She never did.
She only ever wanted the best for you. She fought for you. Even when it broke her."
"Oh?"
"The morning after that dinner; I was going to break the engagement. It was not fair on you. I would never have been able to marry her, but I could not marry you. Not like that. She begged me to continue. She said these feelings would pass. Now I know they never will."
"What I will never understand is why she would lie."
He paused. Traced a vein on the hand he was holding.
"You should speak to her when she wakes up. I do not know what was going on in her head. But I suspect I would do the same, were I in her shoes."
"How-"
"Your sister and I never had the luxury of being young. We had families to take care of by the time we were eighteen. Our siblings were our responsibility. When that happens, one tends to give those siblings everything. Even at the expense of ourselves."
"I never asked for-"
"You did. You wanted the fairytale I sold you. Don't disrespect her like that, miss Edwina. Blame me all you want. She is blameless."
"I-"
"Did you ever wonder why she never married?"
Edwina fell silent. And all at once, the magnitude of her sister's secrets and sacrifices seemed to make itself clearer. And something that had been haunting her for a few days came back to the fore.
But no matter.
"Things will never be the same between us."
"No. But she will always love you."
"It isn't all her fault."
She took a deep breath.
"The day of the wedding… I called her half-sister. The last thing I said to her was that she was cruel.
I think I've hurt her terribly too. And I don't know how to make it right."
The tears came unbidden. She thought she'd cried herself out already, but apparently not.
"At least you want to make it right." He sounded bitter.
"My lord-"
"I think a simple conversation will heal many wounds, miss Edwina. As a start. She would be grateful for the honesty."
It was the most honest exchange that they have ever had. Which perhaps means something, seeing as they almost made it to the altar.
Despite the scandal, Edwina is once again terribly grateful for the failed wedding.
They sit silently together. Edwina brings in her embroidery. Lord Bridgerton does not stray from his perch.
In time, it turns noon.
"My mother will be searching for me. There is business to attend to, books to balance. I should be going."
He stands. Kisses Didi on the forehead.
"I will return tonight."
He pauses.
"You should speak to your sister. When she wakes up. I'm sure she'd appreciate it."
She smiles at him, for the first time since the failed wedding.
"I will. You should take your own advice. I do not think Didi knows your true feelings for her."
He returned that night. And every night after that.
Propriety be damned.
It was only by good fortune that Whistledown had stopped writing. Or Anthony would have brought down another scandal on their heads.
Some nights he brought his ledgers with him. Sat by her side, and went through them.
She would know about ledgers, his Kate. And she would not want him to let his family fall apart. Thus it was nothing unusual to balance his accounts at her sickbed.
Perhaps if she accepted his suit, they would spend nights like these together in his study.
Some nights he wanted to get into bed and lie beside her. Smell her sweet lilies. But these moments by her side were a luxury. He did not want to overstep the line.
Some nights he could not breathe for terror that she would steal away from them. It would be so like her to flee when none of them were looking.
At some point, he began talking to her.
"Eloise finally came out of her room today. She had breakfast with us."
"Gregory asked me to buy you daffodils. I think he has a tendrè for you."
"No matter what I do, I can never keep them happy. I am either too harsh, or too exacting. I expect too much, I admonish too much, I frown too much. Sometimes I feel like I will break under it all. That my bones will turn to dust as I stand."
"I wish you would wake up my love. I have so much to say. So much to apologise for."
"What made you go out in the rain, Kate? Was it so terrible, that last night? It has never been so good. Not for me."
"I proposed to your sister because I knew I would never love her. It was never because you were not enough. You terrify me, love. I did not think I could marry a woman like you."
"My mother fell apart when my father died. I'm sorry that I judged your mettle by hers."
"Forgive me. I love you. Come back to me."
In the end, what got him away from the Danbury house is an accident at one of the mills back in Kent. It is just his stubborn luck that Kate wakes up while he is gone.
"Where is he?"
"Who?"
"Ant- Lord Bridgerton. He was here, I heard him."
He returned urgent and slightly restless. As if he was certain that he missed something vital.
He is right.
"My Lord."
"She was awake. Whiskey eyes open, leaning on the headboard with a soft smile.
"Miss Sharma. I'm glad-
I'm glad-"
It is no use. The grief he has held on to crushes him. The guilt comes in waves.
The woman he hurt looks at him with eyes full of soft love, and he cannot bear it.
His face twisted, and before he can cover his mouth or control himself, a sob bursts out.
"Anthony."
And then she beckons him to he'd with open arms, and he can't stay away.
Her arms are gentle around him, and she smells of lilies. From a distance, he can hear her asking her family for a moment alone, but he does not care. He has spent the last decade craving comfort, and this entire season craving her. He weeps anew when she feels her hands in his hair. He lays a damp kiss on her shoulder.
The ferocity of his weeping shakes their bed.
I'm sorry. Forgive me. I love you. I cannot be without you. His heart screams.
I know. I am here. And I love you too. Hers replies.
Her family finds them- him sans coat, vest and cravat, and still seated with her arms around him- sobbed out and asleep, wrapped in each other.
There is no way out, but onwards.