Chapter Text
"I cannot imagine that one woman would be worth the trouble," Anthony concluded. "A similar sensibility will perhaps be the most difficult trait to obtain in another, but I have engaged with several candidates who are equally agreeable. A man of my standing shall certainly have no trouble securing a bride free from the encumbrance of an opinionated sister."
"I can well imagine what an inconvenience such a sister would be, given that you already presume to know it all," Colin incited with a grin. Naturally, the comment was uttered with deliberate provocation, for there was no greater pleasure for a younger brother than the exasperation of his elder. Delighted to see that his remark had achieved its intended effect, Anthony's eyes narrowed, the jibe evidently cutting deeper than any blade possibly could.
However, the final touch came swiftly. Seizing upon the lapse in Colin’s defense, Anthony lunged, and his foil struck true. “Please, do not exert yourself on my account,” he gritted as he scratched the foil away from Colin's jacket. "Benedict," Anthony sharped, nodding for him to substitute Colin's place. Pressing the palm of his hand beneath his clavicle, he rotated his shoulder while Benedict dragged his feet the prescribed number of paces.
The hilt of Colin’s sword clinked against the clasp of his jacket as he scurried to the refreshment cart. “Cheer up, Anthony,” he grunted, thrusting the point into the ground. Both hands now free, Colin wiggled his fingers over the assortment of delicacies. “I’m more than happy to let you win every time if that is what you want. There’s no need to take it out on poor Benedict.”
“A victory handed is not a victory earned,” Anthony's gaze sharpened as he glared down the length of his blade. “Mark me, there is no sweeter feeling than that of a true triumph over one’s opponent.”
"Good God," Benedict winced. "We haven’t even begun." Further protests were silenced as Anthony signaled for him to assume his position. Such unbridled energy was bound to erupt during their bout, and as Anthony's present adversary, Benedict was damned to bear the brunt of it. Therefore, he resolved to quickly divert Anthony's immediate attention. "And who remains for your consideration?" Benedict sprang back, narrowly avoiding the blade that sliced through the air he had just occupied. "You have dismissed all the tolerable options, any one of whom would have been more than eager to fulfill the role of viscountess in whatever manner you deemed appropriate."
"I am certain that any one of them would be most grateful for me to reconsider, should I deign to ask," Anthony snapped. As they lowered their swords and retreated to their starting positions, Anthony kneaded the space between his brows. Not only was Miss Edwina the most endurable option, but she had far surpassed the others in manners, intellect, and poise - all essential qualities for a future Viscountess Bridgerton. Moreover, she was the diamond of the season. And why should Anthony settle for anything less than the diamond? "Bold of you to presume I would settle for anything less, Benedict."
“I did not even say - ”
Driving himself from his back foot, Anthony angled the tip of his blade to guard his upper openings. “I am entitled to the best - the diamond,” he declared. Pushing off his back foot and extending his front leg, his arm and blade thrust in a direct line towards his brother.
Benedict, however, met him with a well-timed parry, deflecting Anthony's attack.
Undeterred, Anthony swiftly regained his stance. “I shall not allow some odious sister to prevent me from getting what it is that I - want!” he growled. Executing another lunge, this time directed lower, his blade slipped through Benedict’s defenses to land on his thigh.
Glancing down, Benedict noted the faint sting where the blade had made its mark. “Whom you want, you mean,” he scowled, beginning to unfasten the straps of his padded jacket. In his impatience, he neglected to properly loosen one of the straps, which caught on the fabric of his shirt and caused it to bunch around his shoulders.
Savoring the moment of his brother’s clear defeat, Anthony’s smile curved into a full-blown smirk.
Biting into his pastry, Colin chewed as he processed the scene before him. “Besides,” he muffled through a mouthful of croissant, “it may not even be the sister that beats you out.” Pausing for effect, he allowed the words to hang in the air as Anthony’s sneer faltered into curiosity. “I heard Lumley is taking Miss Edwina to promenade today.”
“Lumley?” Anthony snapped.
Swallowing his food, Colin had all but confirmed his suspicions. Anthony had expected the other suitors to retreat upon making his claim on Miss Edwina. "You do realize you are not her only suitor in London?" he cooed through a saccharine smile.