Chapter Text
Anthony steps into the entrance hall of Danbury House and has to remind himself to breathe.
He tries not to feel too hopeful, he truly does. But hope blooms deep in his chest nonetheless as he twists the bouquet of pink tulips about in his trembling hands, waiting for the footman to hasten him to Kate’s side to that he can immediately declare his intention to place his heart solely in her keeping for the rest of his days.
“Can you let Miss Sharma know that I am here.”
The footman nods and turns in the direction of the drawing room, only to be halted in his tracks by the sudden appearance of Lady Danbury at the top of the stairs. “There will be no need for you to do that, Partridge.” She asserts as she descends the central staircase, the echo of her cane against the marble floor mirroring the loud thump of his heart. “I will tell Miss Sharma myself, after I have spoken with the viscount.”
Anthony swallows as Partridge exits the hall fairly quickly, leaving him to face the dragon of Mayfair all on his own.
As Lady Danbury approaches, he notes that her expression appears to be friendly, but Anthony is not foolish enough to believe it completely. He can see the displeasure in her stern gaze, the disappointment in the pinch of her mouth as she comes to stands before him, effectively blocking his way from the rest of her home.
“I am somewhat surprised to see you here this morning, Lord Bridgerton. Your absence has been keenly felt this past week but you have been rather busy, I understand.”
“Regrettably so.” He replies, not wishing to be drawn into an argument about his recent conduct, at least not until he has spoken to Kate about it first. “I was rather hoping to talk with Miss Sharma-”
“Miss Sharma is not accepting any callers this morning.”
His stomach dips. “Is she still unwell?”
“Quite the contrary, for she is as lively and animated as I have ever seen her.” Lady Danbury explains, narrowing her gaze slightly. “It is only that the doctor has advised that she rest and Lady Mary has taken that to mean that she not be disturbed by anything - or anyone - that may cause her any distress.”
The implication in her tone is quite clear and Anthony does his best not to resent it.
“I see.” He says, frustration clawing in his chest. “I assure you that I have not come to cause any upset, but to try and make things right.”
“Perhaps you should not merely try, my lord, but do.”
“Lady Danbury-”
“Her mother and sister have been swayed into taking a walk around the park this morning, leaving Miss Sharma in my care, and whilst I have no interest in being the young woman’s gatekeeper, I have grown quite fond of her and do not wish to see her hurt any more than she has been already.”
“That is not my intention.”
“And it is not I who you need to convince.” She stares at him shrewdly, clearly trying to make up her mind about something. Then, she smiles slightly before leaning forward on her cane to add, “I had planned on keeping Miss Sharma company in the drawing room but have suddenly remembered a rather pressing matter of correspondence that I need to attend to, though it should take me no longer than ten minutes or so to deal with…”
Her dark eyes twinkle mischievously as understanding slowly dawns on Anthony.
Not wishing to waste any of the time given to him, he nods gratefully and turns to hurry across the hall. The door to the drawing room is open and he instantly spots Kate leaning back in one of the armchairs, a book forgotten in her hands as she stares ahead, clearly lost in thought. She looks beautiful, the late morning sunshine illuminating her with a halo of ethereal light, and the sight of her slams into his chest with such force that he stumbles (ignoring the snort of Lady Danbury as she retreats in the opposite direction) as he steps into the room.
His near inelegance alerts Kate to his presence and she immediately sits up in disbelief.
“Lord Bridgerton.”
Anthony bows in greeting, keeping his gaze fixed on her face. After seven days of separation, despair and fear as his mind waged war between his duty and his chance at happiness, seeing Kate again feels like taking a deep breath of fresh, clean air. But sadly, any elation and gratitude he feels falters, for beneath the confusion, he can clearly see the hurt and his heart squeezes tightly.
He knows then that he will do whatever it takes to be worthy of her.
“I’m glad to see you’re awake.”
Kate nods, her dark eyes watching him warily. “I hear it was you who found me and brought me home safe.”
“I suppose I must be grateful for our very first race in the park. If it were not for that fateful moment, who knows what else could have happened.”
The acknowledgement hangs in the air between them, filling the space created by the sudden awkward silence. Throughout the few short months of their acquaintance, there has been vexation and exasperation alongside the longing and consuming passion, but never this heavy and almost unbearable clumsiness. Anthony is completely at a loss of how to navigate but it is Kate, his beautiful, brave and fierce Kate, who steps into the unknown for them both.
“Thank you for the flowers.”
Anthony nods again, barely glancing down at the tulips as he places the bouquet on the nearest surface and takes a step back, slowly grasping his hands together behind his back.
Ever the poised and effortlessly charming Viscount Bridgerton.
Outwardly confident.
Inwardly terrified.
“Was there something else, my lord?” Kate whispers softly and Anthony stills, tightening his grip.
He cannot help feeling like her question is a warning shot across the bow of the rapidly sinking ship of his foolishness, reminding him that he has stayed away for far too long and now, Kate is slipping away like sand through his fingers. So this time, he knows that he must be the one to delay the inevitable by confessing the full truth of his heart, but every word he wishes to speak feels like it is going to condemn him to either her scorn or her pity, neither of which he desires nor wants (even though he knows it is far more than he could ever deserve).
He loves her. He wants a life with her. He just needs to find the right words to tell her that.
So he takes a deep breath and simply tries.
“I called on you, the morning after. I called on you to apologise. You deserved so much more than that. I took liberties. I…I did not want it to happen like that, so…I came to apologise-”
“-yes, you already said that-”
“-and to ask you to marry me.”
She blinks, eyes wide in startled surprise.
“Uh…”
He steps forward, rushing to remove the ring box from his coat pocket.
“Miss Sharma. I am here-”
“-what are you doing?”
“-and I am asking you-”
“-no. My lord, I do not need you to ask me anything at all.”
“Kate!”
Anthony thrusts the ring towards her and Kate feels as though he has suddenly lunged a rapier point straight into her aching heart.
It is the same ring, of course. The same setting of delicate pearls and diamonds on a thin band of gold, just as beautiful and just as meaningful as when it had been placed upon Edwina’s finger all those weeks ago. The band catches the sunlight, fracturing into a kaleidoscope that captures the pattern on sequins stitched into the material of her dress and as the colours dance in the light, Kate is momentarily blinded to the grief and the censor and the undeniable hurt that she has caused and that she has suffered, all because of love.
A love that she has neither sought nor wanted, but one that has consumed her nonetheless, leaving her burned and scarred and utterly helpless in its wake.
Her eyes fill with tears but she blinks them back, as unsure of herself as she has ever been. Though she has hoped that the viscount would call upon her, she has also feared seeing him again and from the very moment Anthony entered the drawing room, Kate has been torn between either throwing her arms around him or pummelling her fists against his chest. There are a thousand things that she wants to say, a hundred questions that she so desperately wants to ask and have answered, but her thoughts are all so jumbled up that she cannot follow a single thread long enough to know what to do.
For it has been less than a day since she woke from her accident and the world seems to have moved on around her.
Edwina is suddenly less hostile and more inclined to talk as though nothing difficult has passed between them. Mary hovers and fusses, actively seeking to insulate her from the possibility of any form of distress like she did when Kate was growing up. Even Lady Danbury is less severe with her and has agreed to allow Newton to sleep on Kate’s bed for a short time (though she still scowls when she does not think Kate is looking).
It is quite clear that the fall from the horse has changed everything and everyone’s opinions of her, and she is struggling to catch up.
Because Kate is still in the ballroom of Bridgerton House, frozen by her sister’s unkind words. She is still underneath the wisteria and the stars, finally believing that she could do something for herself. She is still out in the rain, desperate to outrun the immeasurable longing and the lingering touch of his lips pressed to her burning skin.
And above all that, she is still standing by the Danbury carriage, holding her sister’s glove in one hand and her bleeding heart in the other.
Kate knows she has no right to feel jealous, but she cannot help the comparison. There is no heartfelt, romantic gesture for her. No courtship to end on bended knee. No whispered words of love. There is only obligation and Kate understands completely and she cannot let Anthony do that to either of them.
So she shields her heart, carefully constructing the foundations of a wall to hide behind until she is alone once more to succumb to her heartbreak.
“I am returning to India.” She bursts out, forcing the truth passed the scratchy lump that has formed in her throat; she can offer him no absolution because she cannot find it for herself. “The moment I resolve matters with my sister, I am returning to India. It is decided.”
Anthony’s heart plummets, the ring suddenly heavy in his hands.
No. No, no, no, no.
“And your family’s financial affairs?” He splutters, desperate to find an excuse. “What of-”
“Lady Danbury has offered to sponsor my mother and sister for another season.” Kate swiftly answers, holding her hands up in defeat. “I am certain they will do perfectly well on their own as it is clear I am of no help!”
The silence between them now is deafening.
In all the possible outcomes Anthony had imagined in the carriage ride over to Danbury House, this definitely had not been one of them. India hangs over him like the razor-sharp edge of a pendulum blade, swaying back and forth as it moves ever closer to severing his existence from Kate’s. It leaves him shaking with barely restrained fury that the woman he loves more than life itself might well be lost to him because she refuses to listen to good, plain common sense.
Perhaps a more agreeable suitor would cower to her inflexibility, but Anthony is a stubborn man.
He snaps shut the ring box and shakes his head.
“You are running away.”
He knows it’s a gamble. A risky provocation that could quite easily find him cast out of the room with no hope of reprieve or second chance. But as his intention is to convince her to share his life with him, to forgive all his folly of the season and let him love and cherish and worship her all the rest of his days, it has to be worth that risk.
It has to be, because he cannot bear the thought that it is anything otherwise.
So Anthony takes the shot and he waits and tries not to crow triumphantly when the veneer of her inflexibility finally cracks. Her whole body turns towards him, eyes ablaze with radiant fire and indignation and he has never loved her more.
The tight grip Kate has on her emotions, usually so strong but admittingly wavering for weeks now, loosens completely. Why must men be so predictable in such unpredictable ways? Frustration bubbles up within her and she has to tense every muscle she possesses so that she doesn’t pick up the nearest thing on hand to throw at him.
Because the truth is that Anthony knows her better than anyone and Kate almost hates him for it.
“And what is it that you are doing, my lord?” She asks fiercely. “For you tell me that I deserve so much more and yet, you afford me very little. Is such a proposal to be accepted when you have clearly stated that it is such an ‘unthinkable fate’ to be married to me?”
To his credit and her absolute ire, Anthony stands his ground and does not flinch.
“There were no liberties taken by you that night that I did not want you to take.” She continues, no less calmly. “I did not want you to stop. So then, why must you feel the need to taint my wants and desires and wishes by your sense of duty?”
Anthony frowns. “That is not how I feel at all.”
“But you believe that you took liberties all the same?”
“Yes,” he says equably. “Though maybe not in the way I have led you to believe.”
“You have led me to believe?” Kate snorts in derision. “So you accept that your behaviour towards me has been most erratic?”
“I do.”
“Then tell me what is it that you think I believe?”
“That I regret what we did.” He answers immediately, taking a purposeful step towards her. “That I regret any and every moment we shared together in that gazebo when the truth is that you are, and always will be, the object of all my desires. Being able to kiss you, to hold you, to taste you in all the ways that I had only been able to dream about…I do not regret being with you in that way. I will not regret it. My only regrets are the where and the why, but never you.”
“And the rest?” She snaps, fists clenching in the material of her dress as she tries not to be persuaded by his pretty words. “What about Edwina and the wedding and everything that has passed between us since our first meeting...do you regret any of that?”
He briefly closes his eyes and nods. “Some of it, yes. My behaviour towards you and your sister has been inexcusable and reprehensible and I beg you to tell me if there is any way that I can atone for it all, Kate.”
“I think you must depend upon your own mind to pass judgement on your conduct, my lord.”
“Anthony.” He quietly corrects. “Will you let me try?”
“I will not be an obligation, Lord Bridgerton.” She bites, wilfully ignoring his request to use his name. Now quite unable to look at him, Kate turns away to take a deep breath to try and centre herself, but when the seat dips beside her and she feels Anthony’s fingers loop around her wrists, her shoulders tense as she tries her best to pull free. “What are you doing?”
“You were gone, Kate.” He murmurs in her ear, his breath warm though it makes her shiver as if it were the depths of winter. “I woke that morning, having slept more deeply than I have done for years, feeling as though I could finally breathe again…and you were gone. Those liberties…if we had been found in that gazebo, I would not have been ashamed of it.”
Despite her anger, Kate feels her body sway towards his and Anthony inhales, hoping that the comforting and distracting lily scent will bring him some much-needed courage.
“I called on you to apologise, not out of any sense of obligation but because I should have done this all so differently. It was you who I should have courted from the beginning, your dance card should have been filled with my name at every ball. It should have been your arm on mine as we strolled out with that menace of a dog of yours, your hand both in and out of that boat on the Serpentine. I should have brought you flowers and ices and made every one of my intentions clear that night of the Observatory Ball. I should never have proposed to Edwina and I…Kate, you cannot resent me any more for what I have-”
“And yet, I do.” Kate protests, leaning back. Being this close to him and hearing him make such declarations was having a rather adverse effect on both her ability to think straight and her determination to stay mad at him. “What happiness can I guarantee myself of with a man capable of so much inconsistency?”
Anthony holds on, stroking his thumbs over the spot on her wrists where he can feel her pulse thundering.
“Name anything that is in my power to give and it is yours.” He whispers desperately. “Anything.”
“You should not make promises you cannot keep, my lord.”
“Impossible, Kate. I intend on keeping them all.”
She shakes her head at his ridiculousness, lips twisting as if she has a lot more to say and none of it good. Her immediate reaction is to feel annoyance and deny even the possibility that he is capable of such a thing; after all, there are so many reasons to tell him to go…but she knows that she cannot. So, she sits there feeling shaky and a little untethered as she tries to decipher her own thoughts enough to find a way forward.
Anthony watches her closely, refusing to loosen his grip as he feels it’s incredibly important to keep a connection between them as much possible as Kate looks away, her gaze now fixed on something just over his shoulder. Her face remains impassive and Anthony hates that he cannot tell what she is thinking in that moment, that he has to wait and second guess everything that he dares to hope and what he absolutely fears.
Would she demand his penance or would she finally condemn him for his idiocy?
Minutes tick by and the clock upon the mantel strikes the hour.
“What must I do, Kate?” Anthony asks softly, anxiously, and Kate involuntarily squeezes his hands. “What do you need?”
Her gaze shifts to the pink petals of the tulips. Perfect and deep love. In all honestly, Kate does not want this power over Anthony, does not want him to beg her to tell him how to fix his mistakes. She has made so many of her own that she still must make amends for, to herself and Edwina and even to him. So she cannot provide him with the answers he seeks because she doesn’t know herself what can be done to begin to heal the rift.
She does know that she loves him though, with every breath and every beat of her heart. Anthony Bridgerton is as much a part of her now as her own soul, and the very thought of losing him, of returning to India and never seeing his face or hearing his voice or touching his skin again, leaves her cold and clamouring for each and every breath. But Kate also understands that there is still so much anger and confusion and betrayal just beneath the surface that, until everything feels resolved between herself and all those that matter to her, she cannot give him what he wants, to be with him in the way she wishes.
The only thing she can do is give herself the space to come to terms with all that has happened and only then, only then, will she know if she can trust him again.
Resolved, Kate slowly returns her gaze to meet his, seeing the depths of her own hope reflected back at her.
“Time, my lord. All I need right now is time.”