Chapter Text
“I do not understand,” Lady Mary’s face crumpled along with the piece of paper she clasped tightly. Her voice shaky and cheeks wet as she added: “Edwina would not abandon us to marry a perfect stranger.”
“There there, dear. Do not upset yourself.” Anthony’s mother rubbed a soothing hand over Lady Mary’s back as she collapsed into a chair, her head on the table before her. “You say you found this letter where, Miss Sharma?”
“On her pillow, Lady Bridgerton.”
Anthony’s heart ached at her regretful tone. A tone he knew only too well. One he’d used often concerning his own siblings. A tone laced with guilt at having missed something.
“I believe she must have waited for me to fall asleep before absconding.” Her gaze fell to the floor as her mother let out a loud sob.
“We will find her and prevent this social suicide!”
Lady Danbury’s cane struck the floor with such force that Anthony visibly jumped. He was acutely aware of the sidelong glare he received from Miss Sharma at that.
“Engaged to a Viscount and she chooses to throw away all prospects for a mere fancy she’s in love?” She continued with a small scoff before clicking her tongue. “It will not do. You,” She rounded on Anthony now, “what do you intend to do about this?”
Anthony stepped back impulsively as she stalked forward, eyes narrowed and nostrils flaring.
“I … I…” he stammered.
For goodness' sake man! You are a Viscount.
He cleared his throat and stood a little taller. It was hard to look dignified in yesterday’s rumpled shirt and breeches but Miss Sharma had raised the alarm before dawn.
“I shall set out immediately to find her and return her safely to her family, of course.”
“And then?”
Anthony’s eyes met his mother’s sharply. It was only two nights ago that she had knocked on his study door, closed it softly behind her and asked, eyes large with concern, whether he was regretting his proposal.
“I cannot force her to marry me if she does not wish to do so.”
“So you would see her ruined?” Miss Sharma now. She took a step closer and he closed his eyes, allowing the scent of lilies to wash over him.
“I have to say, my Lord, that you do not seem at all upset by this … setback.” Lady Danbury studied him as though he were a bug she had speared for her own curiosity.
It is a relief.
Anthony cleared his throat.
“It is a disappointment to be sure. And I will leave post haste to catch up to them. They’re surely heading to Scotland to marry at Gretna Green.”
“I’m coming.” Miss Sharma’s voice was sure now.
“Absolutely not!” Anthony and Lady Danbury spoke in unison before turning to frown at one another.
“Miss Sharma. I will be travelling on horseback so as to catch them sooner. There is no time for trunks and carriages and -”
“And I intend to ride on horseback same as you.” She interrupted sharply, “I am strong and fast in the saddle and you know it.”
Anthony’s mind cast back to their first meeting. Miss Sharma riding astride like a man, her dark curls braided neatly over one shoulder. Colour in her cheeks and her chest rising and falling quickly from the exertion of their race.
His cock stirred at the memory.
“It is me Edwina trusts. Me she will listen to. So I am coming.” She glared at him, brown eyes flashing fire. She squared her shoulders as though preparing to stand her ground.
He felt desire unspool low in his belly. This woman. How had he ever thought he could deny this woman anything?
He watched as her eyes darted to the firm set of his jaw.
Anthony inhaled deeply.
“Very well.” He gave a small nod. The corner of Miss Sharma’s mouth ticked upward. “We shall leave directly.” He turned to the others in the room with a bow.
“I will send word to the ton that Miss Edwina has taken ill here at Aubrey Hall and that the engagement ball has been postponed.”
Just like mother; looking for ways to minimise a scandal before there even was one.
“Thank you, mother.” He said stiffly.
Anthony locked eyes with Miss Sharma. She gave a small pitying smile, as though knowing his thoughts.
They’ll still talk.
He turned on his heel and set about marching through the door. He found Miss Sharma at his side in an instant.
His traitorous heart soared.
“Wait!” Lady Danbury called after them. Her cane tapping swiftly against the cold hard floor. “Miss Sharma requires a chaperone. I shall send a maid to follow on horseback.”
Anthony wasn’t entirely certain why he deflated a little at the mention of a chaperone. He stopped abruptly and spun to face the harridan.
“I assure you, Lady Danbury, that will not be necessary. I am a gentleman. On my honour, Miss Sharma is safe with me.”
He bristled a little at Miss Sharma’s scoff. Lady Danbury fixed him with a slanted glare before her eyes shifted to the bane of his existence.
“Might I remind you, Miss Sharma, that you are under my protection? I shall not have the both of you ruined. Clara can accompany you.”
She straightened her posture, tapping her cane lightly against the floor to signal the matter settled.
Anthony honestly felt a little sorry for himself. He realised he’d been looking forward to riding beside Miss Sharma. Just the two of them. Alone. Like on that first morning.
He was about to reply that any maid who was as inept at riding as the one on the hunt that day would only slow them down when -
“Might I remind you, Lady Danbury,”
Anthony’s head snapped up then. At the sound of Miss Sharma’s cold and considered reply.
“That I am a spinster. I will be travelling with the man betrothed to my sister. In effect, my brother.”
Anthony frowned. He did not like the sound of that.
“Gentleman or not, my virtue is safe with Lord Bridgerton.” She continued and he breathed a little easier.
He hadn’t completely sullied her opinion of him it seemed.
“We do not require a chaperone. After all, he walked past me to propose to my sister. He could not possibly care for or desire me.”
Her words were like a blow to his stomach.
Before Lady Danbury could further protest, Miss Sharma had turned sharply towards the stairs. Sending a stony glare his way as she went.
***
They rode hard and fast along the dirt track that first morning. Their horses’ hooves thundering against the ground, kicking up a trail of mud behind them.
There were few words exchanged bar the odd instruction he threw over his shoulder until she overtook him, her chin tilted defiantly. With her mare being slighter and faster than his bulky gelding and the ground being sodden from a recent downpour, it was not too difficult.
He was planning to return the favour once his blasted horse caught up when he saw Miss Sharma pull up short, turning to face him.
“Which road?” She motioned to the fork in the dirt before them.
“Stick to the right,” Anthony instructed, nodding to the main track. “There are better inns along this path and, unfortunately, I do believe it will take at least a couple of days to find them. Especially if they left soon after you retired.”
Of course, Miss Sharma cannot agree with Lord Bridgerton on anything. He watched her brows knit together and mouth twist. Then she edged towards the narrow track.
“Surely, my lord, they would be wiser to take the road less travelled in order to avoid detection.” She sat up straighter on her horse, eyebrow raised as though expecting him to challenge her.
This was their game, was it not?
“Perhaps,” he said on an exhale, “although from the little I know of Bagwell, wise is not in his repertoire. Clever, certainly in an academic sense, but not wise.”
Anthony watched as she absorbed his words, could almost see the cogs turning in her mind. Only the soft rustle of the breeze through the trees was audible as she considered this new information. Then she took a deep breath, seeming to decide something.
“We cannot rely on your opinion of a man you hardly know, my lord. I believe the more discreet path to be the best one to follow. Perhaps we should split up and see who happens upon them sooner?”
Anthony rolled his eyes. She always spoke to him as though admonishing a child when he is a Viscount!
He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. When he looked up to meet her gaze he would swear she was smirking.
“Miss Sharma,” Anthony began placatingly, as though he were now addressing a child. “You are newly arrived in this country. I was born and raised in this part of England. Trust me, please. They are no doubt travelling by carriage, as you yourself noticed Miss Edwina’s small trunk was missing. I believe they will stick to the main roads to avoid their carriage wheels becoming bogged on the narrower path.”
He had her there. She let out a huff, followed by a reluctant nod. He took the lead once more after that and they went at more of a canter to spare the horses tiring quickly.
By the time they’d reached a small inn the sun was hanging low in the sky. Anthony’s bones ached from the day’s ride and although it was not cold, the late summer air was damp with the promise of rain.
“We shall rest here for the night.” Anthony instructed. “Our horses are in need of it and it may be dark by the time we reach another inn.” He swept his leg over his horse and slid to the ground.
“I say we press on.” Declared Miss Sharma. Because of course she did.
Anthony audibly exhaled, pulling a hand down over his tired face.
“Miss Sharma -”
“You may not care for my sister’s welfare, my lord -”
“Can you please stop saying ‘my lord’ in that manner?”
Miss Sharma’s lips twitched. Anthony’s jaw ached from the set of it.
“And which manner is that, my lord?”
“You know very well -” He stopped himself abruptly and ran a trembling hand through his hair. He longed to be indoors by the heat of a roaring fire. His belly full and a wine glass in hand.
“Miss Sharma,” Anthony began, his teeth grinding together. “I too am concerned for your sister’s welfare but we have not eaten since breakfast, the horses are close to collapsing and it will be dark within the hour. It is best for all concerned to rest, nourish ourselves and start afresh in the morning. Or are you happy to drive that mare into the ground?”
Her gaze dropped to the head of her horse. She reached a tentative hand out to gently stroke the chestnut mane. It stirred something in him to see this almost maternal gesture.
“I also believe rain to be imminent.” He spoke carefully, saw her eyes grow large as they shot up to meet his.
Anthony hoped she saw his sincerity there. That he wasn’t using something she had admitted unsettled her in an attempt to bully her into conceding. That he simply wished to prepare her.
Miss Sharma gave a small nod in defeat, her eyes downcast. She moved to dismount and Anthony eagerly offered her his hand which she ignored, swinging herself to the ground and landing with a thud before him.
“For the horses.” She said firmly when they were near eye-level and inches apart.
“For the horses.” He repeated, resisting the urge to reach his hand up and tuck an errant curl back into place.
***
“Sorry, sir,” the innkeeper thrust his gnarled hand, wrapped around a large key, towards Anthony. “Only the one room left for you and your good lady. My lad’ll see to the horses.”
Anthony felt his eyes grow round with horror.
“That cannot be possible I -” He forced himself to take a deep breath. He could feel the panic swelling within him. What must Miss Sharma think? Running a hand through his already mussed up hair he thought of his options. Perhaps if he bribed the man?
“My good man, this lady here is under my personal protection. I assure you money is no object if you could-”
“Thank you, sir,” he heard Miss Sharma say kindly. He felt the heat of her as she pressed close to his side and carefully took the key into her own hand. The dizzying scent of lilies was intoxicating as she took hold of Anthony’s arm. “It’s alright, darling. I can put up with your snoring for one night.” She risked a playful wink.
The innkeeper smiled and led them to a table by the fire. Two tankards of ale were placed before them followed by a beef stew. It appeared to have been slopped haphazardly into the bowls but to the two travellers who had ridden hard all day with only a ration of fruit to sustain them, it looked a meal fit for royalty.
Anthony’s mouth watered as the rich aroma rose up to meet him. A hunk of bread was placed between them and both he and Miss Sharma began tearing at it, dunking it into the gravy of their stew before devouring it like starving children.
They ate in silence, mostly because they were too busy feasting to make the effort to converse but once they’d finished and were each nursing their tankards, Anthony furtively studied his companion.
She sat as comfortably as he’d ever seen her in any drawing room. She appeared completely unphased by their bizarre plight.
The inn smelled of hops and dirt and was a cacophony of gruff yells and ungentlemanly language, the odd peal of laughter from a common woman filtered across to them as did the sound of a baby crying in the corner.
Miss Sharma seemed unperturbed by the scene. Her eyes roaming about the room contentedly people-watching. She looked as though she were sitting in a theatre, observing a piece of performance art, rather than facing the reality of a well-bred young lady spending a night in a commoners’ inn, sharing a room with a ‘capital R rake’.
Anthony couldn’t take his eyes from her. The thought of Miss Edwina in a place like this if, say, Eloise were eloping was laughable.
“Why did you accept the room?” He asked suddenly. Miss Sharma turned back to face him. She sat quietly for a long time and Anthony began to doubt she would answer. “I feel certain I could have bribed him or, at the very least, he may have allowed me to sleep in the stables.”
Her expression remained unchanged at his small chuckle and Anthony felt oddly nervous. He peered down into his tankard, preferring to study the murky liquid than face her.
“It just seemed trivial.” She answered eventually, sighing. “Finding Edwina is our most pressing concern. Sharing a room for one night is,” she shrugged, watching her own finger as it traced a dent in the table. “Inconsequential when compared with that.”
She looked up, her eyes searching his before taking a sip from her tankard. Anthony shook his head with mirth.
“What?” She asked, wrinkling her nose at the taste of the ale.
“I think you are the most complex lady I have ever met. A complete enigma! Most well bred ladies would be aghast at the mention of a place like this. Yet you sit here comfortably, as though it is your most natural habitat.”
“I saw and heard worse at sea for five months.” She shrugged again.
“Ah, of course.” He replied with a smile.
“And I have you to protect me.”
Her lips twisted into a smirk and Anthony shivered as desire licked its way up his spine. He didn’t have a clue how he was going to survive the night in such close proximity to the object of his desires.
***
Anthony’s foot tapped against the stone floor of the tap room. He checked his pocket watch for the fifth time in as many minutes.
Fifty two minutes. It had been fifty two minutes since Miss Sharma had ventured up to the room. That seemed a respectable amount of time to wait.
He made his way to the flagstone steps, taking them two at a time. Once he’d located the correct room, Anthony hovered awhile outside. His heart was beating at a rapid pace as he watched the candlelight that was leaking through the crack in the bottom of the door.
He could see Miss Sharma’s shadow bustling about and butterflies began fluttering low in his stomach. Suddenly Anthony felt dizzy. He placed his head carefully against the door to steady himself.
His betrothed had eloped with another man and he felt a flood of relief. He was about to spend the night in a room with her sister and he was a jumbled mess of nerves and excitement.
What had he done?
Anthony wiped his sweating palms on his breeches and gently knocked. Hearing a muffled “you may enter”, he opened the creaking door and peered tentatively round it.
His heart fluttered at the sight of Miss Sharma in a similar nightgown to the one she wore in the library. The night he found her looking for a distraction from the storm when he could not sleep for thoughts of her.
She stood near the head of the bed. A red shawl was wrapped around her shoulders, her hair a black wave cascading around it. The room smelled of lilies and Anthony was forced to swallow as his mouth watered at the whole of it. He licked his lips and softly closed the door behind him.
“Miss Sharma.” He said in greeting though it came out as almost a whisper.
Her eyes were wide and her breathing heavy as she shifted her balance from foot to foot.
“Lord Bridgerton.” She said, colour rising in her cheeks.
Anthony nodded to the tin bath in the corner of the room. Its contents still stirring as though she’d not long gotten out.
“I see the innkeeper’s wife brought you the tub, as I requested.”
“She did, my lord. Thank you.” She motioned towards the bath with her hand. “The water is still warm should you wish to bathe. I can always dress and wait downstairs awhile.”
Anthony sighed. He would’ve liked nothing more than to soothe his aching muscles in a warm bath. But he shook his head.
“I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
He did not wish to leave Miss Sharma at the mercy of any drunkards. It had been getting rather raucous as it was. A fist fight had even threatened to break out at one point.
“Nonsense. I brought my own soap too should you wish to use it.”
“That explains the lilies.” He said almost to himself.
“My lord?” Miss Sharma’s head cocked to the side as she studied him.
Now he ached to sit in the water her naked form had recently vacated. To be tormented by the scent of her skin on his own.
“It is alright, Miss Sharma.” He managed to croak out. “I shall bathe in the morning. While you break your fast.”
“Very well.” She nodded on an exhale.
After a brief disagreement over which of them would take the bed, Miss Sharma finally relented and slipped between the cool cotton sheets.
Anthony made himself a small bed on the hard floor, fluffing up his pillow with unspent frustration. Clad only in his shirt and breeches and with a spare cotton sheet to keep him warm.
He settled himself, uncomfortably, against the stone; so cold it made him shiver even through his clothes.
Though it was summer, the air had cooled and was damp in a way that settled on one’s skin and chilled it to the bone. Like a dead man’s touch.
He lay staring up at the ceiling, his hands beneath his head, conjugating Latin verbs in his mind as he’d learned to do when just a boy. It was all he could do to keep from losing his senses.
Miss Sharma lay mere feet away, scandalously underdressed and smelling divine. His arousal was evident as his cock strained against his breeches. Like a green boy, he thought. The crimson mark of shame hotly burned in his cheeks as he moved to reciting sonnets to himself.
Struggling to recall the poetry was working to tamp down his excitement, his arousal slowly diminishing with each word, when he heard a soft sigh from Miss Sharma.
She was still awake.
The sound had given rise to a fresh wave of excited anticipation. His mind wandered to other sounds she may make in his presence… to the ways he may elicit sounds from her mouth by using his own-
Enough!
With a huff he turned to the side, thumping the pillow with vigour. He heard Miss Sharma startle at the noise. The rustle of sheets in the silence of the room.
“My lord?” Her voice was nearer. She must be sitting up. He turned his head and saw her leaning over. Gazing down at him with wide eyes. Hair hanging down like the mouth of dark waters, reaching out to drag him into its inky depths. He’d go willingly.
“You are uncomfortable.”
“No, I -”
“It was not a question.” Her tone was curt and her lips pursed.
Miss Sharma rolled her eyes as he opened his mouth to reply and held a hand up to stop him.
“We have ridden all day and, no doubt, will do the same tomorrow. You refused to bathe in order to spare myself the discomfort of waiting in the tap room.” She pulled back the bedsheets and patted the mattress beside her softly. “I’m sure we can manage to share a bed for one night without risking anyone’s honour or virtue.”
Anthony sat up and turned to face her, staring slack-jawed. She was right, he knew. It was highly inappropriate that a gentleman such as he would share the bed of an unwed young lady. Yet all the same, she was right.
They both required a good night’s rest if they were to endure another day riding hard and fast to reach Miss Edwina in time.
No one need ever know.
He wanted to relent. Yet propriety kept him rooted to the floor.
“My lord,” she began, before adding softly: “please. Do not make an issue of it. Inconsequential. Remember?”
He should have said no. He opened his mouth to do so, yet no words would come out. Instead, he found himself nodding at her. She gave a small smile in return.
Anthony rose, pillow underarm, and climbed into the bed beside Miss Sharma. He was immediately struck by the scent of her and his nostrils flared wide to inhale it deeply.
Her eyes grew large and he knew she was nervous.
“Goodnight, my lord.” Miss Sharma’s voice was almost a whisper.
“Anthony.” He said softly. “You should call me Anthony.”
He saw her throat bob as she swallowed.
“Goodnight, Anthony.”
A shiver of pleasure ran through him, the flesh on his arms pimpling. Anthony watched as she turned to lie on her side, facing the door.
“Goodnight, Kate.” He replied. His tone was soft and gentle. He was aware of her breath hitching in the darkness at his use of her given name.
Anthony nestled down into his side of the bed knowing that he should turn and face the window.
He could not.
Some of her long silken hair lay across one corner of his pillow. He reached out to grasp the very ends of it between his fingertips.
Usually, when in close proximity to her, his body appeared to enter fight or flight mode: Heart racing, palms sweating, the rushing of his blood in his ears.
Now, even with her intoxicating scent crashing over him, Anthony felt a peace he had not known since before his father’s death.
He lay silent and still, listening to Miss Sharma’s breathing. His teeth cutting into his lower lip as one thought kept troubling him: He’d made a grievous error. He could not marry Miss Edwina when lying beside her sister in the still of the night felt so right. When the sight and smell and thought of Kate aroused him to distraction.
Of course, he’d known as soon as he’d dropped to his knee. As soon as he’d seen the sorrow and disappointment in her eyes as she’d stood holding her sister’s glove.
It was the very look that haunted his own eyes whenever he faced his reflection.
After a while, her breathing evened out signalling she was asleep. Anthony allowed his own breath to fall in rhythm with hers until his eyes grew heavy and he too drifted off on a bed of lilies and silk.
***