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Anthony Bridgerton would never tell anyone he had a favorite sister, no matter who it was that asked, not even if a gun were to his head.
But, buried deep in the depths of his mind, it was a simple known fact that his favorite sister, and perhaps his favorite sibling, was, of course, dear Hyacinth.
While he loved all of his siblings with equal fervor and respect, his tragic connection and role in Hyacinth’s life made his love for her more paternal, more protective, more cherished.
It was perhaps why he rejected the previous six proposals for her hand in marriage she had amassed over her seasons out in society.
Not that any of the men were wholly terrible, they were just…lacking.
Anthony’s youngest sister was spirited, intelligent, and ambitious beyond compare. He knew the man she would one day marry need not only match her energy but encourage it.
There were few things worse, Anthony could imagine, than Hyacinth Bridgerton being stifled and restrained.
Anthony was many things, but he was not a brother or father who would just let anyone marry his sister. He had been through it thrice before, and lord knows he did not always process his other sisters’ love lives how he should, but he’d been beholden to whatever God existed that despite it all, Daphne, Eloise and Francesca were each married to men who worshipped the ground they walked on. He would ensure, so too, that Hyacinth received nothing less.
Lightning in a bottle, his sister was.
That was why it did not come as much of a shock when his mother recently informed him a Mr. Gareth St. Clair seemed to be engrossed with the youngest Bridgerton. Anthony had never met St. Clair but had come across his father, Baron St. Clair.
What an odious man. Anthony could only hope the apple fell far, far away from the tree.
From the way his mother spoke of Hyacinth and St. Clair, Anthony anticipated a proposal was imminent. Violet said she’d never seen Hyacinth so happy.
This was why it was even less of a shock when, on a perfectly normal Tuesday afternoon, his butler announced a visitor.
Anthony was out in the courtyard of Bridgerton House playing with his sons Edmund and Miles, ten and eight years of age, respectively, much the way his own father used to play with Anthony and Benedict when they were those same ages.
Miles was just about to jump onto Anthony’s back when the butler appeared.
“Lord Bridgerton, a visitor is here to see you,” he said. “He did not give a reason as to why.”
Anthony sauntered over, something in him already knowing who this visitor was.
“Ah,” Anthony grunted. “Does this visitor have a name?”
“A Mr. Gareth St. Clair, sir.”
Anthony chuckled softly to himself. There quite literally would only be one reason a man a dozen years younger than he was, would be calling on a Tuesday afternoon.
“Show him to my study, but, uh, wait a few minutes.”
He gave the butler a knowing look. Turning around to his sons, he picked up his day coat and smiled at them.
“Boys, run along inside please, it seems I have a very important meeting to have,” Anthony said gently.
The boys ran to find their mother as Anthony took his time walking to his study, deciding what approach to take.
Jovial, welcoming older brother, or assured, dominant viscount?
As he sat behind his desk, he settled on somewhere in between. After all, if he trusted his mother, which of course he did, this man was the one Hyacinth loved, and by all accounts, would marry. He’d be in the family, Anthony couldn’t do too much damage. Yet.
There was a slight knock on the door as the younger man entered.
“Mr. St. Clair,” Anthony said as he rose to greet him.
It was not required of him to do so in accordance with etiquette, nor was it typically common for these types of meetings, but Anthony felt compelled, for this man had actually bothered to seek his approval, something his other sisters’ husbands had not been quick to do. Jovial, welcoming older brother.
“Lord Bridgerton,” St. Clair said, nodding. Anthony could tell this man was both nervous beyond wit and utterly confident.
He motioned to the chair opposite the desk.
“Sit, please.”
St. Clair sat, and Anthony did not miss him swallowing, or how he couldn’t seem to decide what to do with his hands, or how he clearly wanted to impress Anthony.
Anthony loved that even in his growing age, his presence and role were still enough to make people think twice. Not because he loved the power it gave him, but because it allowed him to protect those he loved most.
“I imagine you know why I am here,” St. Clair said.
Anthony was going to have fun with this, he couldn’t make it too easy. Of course, he knew why St. Clair was there, but he needed to hear the man say the words himself.
“Perhaps, to save both of us from possible embarrassment, you could state your intentions clearly.”
Assured, dominant viscount.
The younger man sucked in a breath.
Checkmate, Anthony thought to himself.
St. Clair looked up, directly into Anthony’s eyes, meeting him with purpose and certainty.
“I would like to marry Hyacinth,” St. Clair said.
Anthony waited, not breaking eye contact.
“Er, if she’ll have me,” St. Clair finished.
It was at that moment, Anthony knew this man was the one for his youngest sister. Not because he had all-knowing power, but because none of the other men who had shown interest seemed to actually care much about what Hyacinth thought. But in four simple words, Gareth St. Clair displayed to Anthony that the decision was really Hyacinth’s. And for that, he knew this man loved his sister.
Anthony exhaled, practically deflated in his seat, no longer needing to be the big, scary viscount.
He couldn’t be sure, but he even may have said the words “Thank you, Lord,” out loud as he quickly glanced up at the sky, as he often did when something happened he wished his father was there for.
Anthony let the palms of his hands land against the desk, more forcefully than he’d intended, as he looked St. Clair directly in the eyes and said, “Oh, she’ll have you. She’ll definitely have you.”
He knew St. Clair was a bit stunned, as he slowly said “I beg your pardon.”
In St. Clair’s defense, Anthony’s reaction was rather odd, and he knew it. Most young men were prepared for fathers and brothers and guardians to question, poke and prod about intentions.
And while that may have been what Anthony expected initially, something in him knew, just knew, that Gareth St. Clair was the one to make Hyacinth happy. No need to make a farce of things just to prove his brotherly dominance.
“I need a drink,” Anthony said, rising to his feet. “A celebration is in order, don’t you think?”
“Er…yes?” He could see the confusion on St. Clair’s face.
Across the room, Anthony went to his bookcase and plucked a decanter off the shelf, before remembering the cognac he’d hidden.
“No, the good stuff, I think.”
He turned back to St. Clair, trying his best not to giggle like a young child.
“The good stuff, wouldn’t you agree?”
Anthony sensed St. Clair's hesitation, knowing the younger man surely was confused about why Anthony was so happy.
“The good stuff,” Anthony said firmly. He pulled the cognac out from its hiding place. “Have to keep it hidden.”
“Servants?” St. Clair asked as Anthony poured a liberal amount into each glass.
“Brothers.”
Anthony noted the smirk on St. Clair’s face as he handed him the glass. “Welcome to the family.”
St. Clair, still clearly confused and shocked his proposal had gone over so well, accepted the glass.
“Thank you, Lord Bridgerton, I-”
Anthony interrupted him, deciding right then the formalities were unnecessary
“You should call me Anthony,” he said, thinking of the man not as St. Clair but just, Gareth. “We’re to be brothers, after all.”
“Anthony,” Gareth repeated. “I just wanted…”
“This is a wonderful day,” Anthony said. “A wonderful day.”
And truly, it was. When his father died and all of the responsibilities of viscount shifted to him, he made a vow to himself and to his late father. Anthony knew above all others, the most important job he had was protecting his family, making sure his mother was happy, his brothers accomplished, and his sisters loved. Gareth was helping him fulfill his vow to his father.
“You don’t have sisters, do you?” Anthony asked.
“None,” Gareth confirmed.
“I am in possession of four,” Anthony said, taking a large sip of his drink. “Four. And now they’re all off my hands. I’m done. I’m free.”
He knew it might come across as patronizing and harsh, but it was not at all what he meant. Anthony truly, viscerally, would go to the ends of the earth for his family. And now, knowing each of his sisters would be loved and cared for, long after he was gone; knowing they were happy, it was freeing.
“You’ve daughters, don’t you?” Gareth asked, almost tauntingly.
Anthony thought of his dear little girl, Charlotte. He of course would not admit this, but yes, he was terrified to go through all of this again one day, when the young woman in question was his daughter. But that was years from now. Tiny victories.
“Just one, and she’s only three. I have years before I have to go through this again. If I’m lucky, she’ll convert to Catholicism and become a nun.”
Gareth choked on his drink. Anthony kept his laugh to himself, knowing Gareth would understand if he was ever blessed with a daughter himself.
“Now then,” Anthony said, leaning against the edge of the desk. “You’ll want to discuss the settlements, I’m sure.”
It was no secret that a Bridgerton dowry was of no small size. It was also no secret that the St. Clair fortune was not large. Anthony knew there was always a financial incentive for someone wanting to marry a Bridgerton sister, he just hoped that was not Gareth’s motivation. He rather liked the boy. And, Gareth truly seemed to love her.
“It is common knowledge that I increased her dowry last year,” he said, growing more serious. “I will stand by that, although I would hope that it is not your primary reason for marrying her.”
“Of course not,” Gareth replied quickly.
Good.
“I didn’t think so,” Anthony said, “but one has to ask.”
“I would hardly think a man would admit it to you if it were,” Gareth said.
It was a logical comment, but, as they discussed, Gareth didn’t have sisters. Anthony looked up at him sharply.
“I would like to think I can read a man’s face well enough to know if he is lying.”
He didn’t mean it to sound threatening, but if it did, he was not upset it did.
“Of course,” Gareth said, sitting back down.
This was a good man, Anthony knew.
“Now then,” he said, changing the subject back to the dowry. “Her portion stands at…”
But Anthony had to take a second and breathe this moment in.
“My lord?” Gareth asked.
“My apologies,” Anthony said. “I’m a bit unlike myself just now, I must assure you.”
He heard Gareth say something as he chose his next words carefully.
“I never thought this day would come,” Anthony said. “We’ve had offers, of course, but none I was willing to entertain, and none recently.”
He let out a long breath as he thought of the imbeciles before who thought they were good enough for Hyacinth Bridgerton.
“I had begun to despair that anyone of merit would wish to marry her.”
Gareth looked at him, clearly carefully too choosing his words.
“You seem to hold your sister in unbecomingly low regard,” Gareth said.
Anthony looked up.
“Not at all,” he said cooly. “But nor am I blind to her…ah…unique qualities.”
This was the time to make it clear exactly how much Hyacinth meant not just to him, but to the entire Bridgerton family. He liked Gareth, but he would not let the young man mistake levity and relief for the notion that he was letting Hyacinth go with ease.
Anthony walked to the window, using his height and stature to impress upon the young man the gravity of his next statement.
“My sister Hyacinth is a prize. You should remember that, and if you value your skin, you will treat her as the treasure she is.”
He paused, if not for dramatic effect, to see if the young man was stupid enough to interrupt. He was not.
“But while Hyacinth may be a prize,” Anthony continued, turning around to face Gareth slowly, well familiar with the power he currently held, “she isn’t easy. I will be the first one to admit to this. There aren’t many men who can match wits with her, and if she is trapped into marriage with someone who does not appreciate her…singular personality, she will be miserable.”
Anthony flashed back to Hyacinth’s childhood, running wild and free, demanding she learns all the things Gregory did, never apologizing for commanding the life she so incredibly deserved. Anthony would be damned if he saddled her with a man who would diminish her light.
He maintained his eye contact with Gareth. “I will give you my permission to marry her. But you should think long and hard before you ask her yourself.”
Gareth stood, “What are you saying?”
Anthony was glad Gareth seemed worried. It meant Hyacinth mattered a great deal to him.
“I will not mention this interview to her. It is up to you to decide if you wish to take the final step. And if you do not,” he shrugged in a way that seemed casual but was wholly cautionary. “In that case, she will never know.”
Gareth gulped and it was clear to Anthony Gareth knew just how deadly serious he was.
“If you don’t make my sister happy,” Anthony continued, never breaking intense eye contact with Gareth, “then you will not be happy. I will see to it myself.”
As would Benedict and Colin and Gregory. And their sisters and their husbands. And even Violet Bridgerton herself. There was not one Bridgerton who would not kill for Hyacinth.
Gareth’s face scrunched with a look of fire and wit, one Anthony had seen in Hyacinth many times, and he knew the young man was capable of a Hyacinth-level retort. But, at the last second, Anthony observed his face fall.
Smart choice, Gareth.
“You love her, don’t you?”
Anthony snorted impatiently. How could anyone ask him a question like that? Did the sun rise every morning?
“Of course I love her. She’s my sister.”
“I loved my brother,” Gareth said quietly. “Besides my grandmother, he was the only person I had in this world.”
Never before had Anthony heard anyone say something with such conviction. He recalled the Baron and the rumors of the tenuous relationship he shared with his son.
“You do not intend to mend your rift with your father, then,” Anthony said.
Quickly, Gareth responded, “No.”
Anthony would not ask questions. A man’s relationship with his father could be the most precarious. They were not all as fortunate as he was, to have a father like Edmund Bridgerton.
Instead, he just nodded and said, “If you marry my sister, you will have all of us.”
He saw Gareth struggle to form words.
“For better or worse,” Anthony went on, with a little chuckle. Being loved by the Bridgertons was both the greatest gift and the most annoying sentence. “And I assure you, you will very often wish that Hyacinth were a foundling, left on a doorstep with not a relation to her name.”
He’d meant it as a joke, but Gareth clearly knew the consequence of such a fate.
“No. I would not wish that on anyone.”
Not that he needed further reassurance, but after that statement, Anthony knew Gareth would not harm Hyacinth or ever leave her alone. But Gareth was not his father and did not yet have his father’s power or title. A man as intolerable as Baron St. Clair could make things difficult.
“Is there anything you wish to share with me about him?” Anthony asked.
“Who?” Gareth was uneasy.
“Your father.”
“No.”
Anthony took his answer in and thought only of his sister. Gareth had done well thus far, but if the baron posed any threat to her, Anthony had no problem rescinding his previous approval of the young man.
“Will he make trouble?”
“For me?”
“For Hyacinth.”
“He might,” Gareth responded. Anthony appreciated that he didn’t lie. That directness went a long way. It was clear Gareth loved Hyacinth and would do anything to protect her.
Anthony had done his job, it was now up to Gareth to decide what he wanted.
He raised his glass toward Gareth once more, who followed suit.
“To Hyacinth,” Anthony toasted, clinking his glass with Gareth’s, who replied in equal measure, “To my future wife.”
Anthony nodded, giving his final gesture of approval. He walked Gareth to the front door.
As the younger man began to leave, Anthony clasped his shoulder.
“Gareth,” he started. “Thank you. For coming to me and for being honest. It shows a great deal of your character. I would be honored to have you in the family.”
Gareth smiled with relief. Anthony scrunched his face and said one last thing, a final brotherly reminder.
“Just never forget, if you hurt my girl, you will answer directly to me, and whatever crimes I commit against you, remember, I am the Viscount Bridgerton.”
And with that, he closed the front door.
His wife, Kate, was smirking at him when he turned around.
“Should I expect a wedding soon, dearest,” she said as he wrapped an arm around her.
“A brother can only hope,” he replied as they went off to find the children.
It was not even two hours later when a missive arrived from Number Five, one sentence written quickly in his mother's handwriting.
“Hyacinth has agreed to be married to Gareth St. Clair, thank you, darling.”
Anthony smiled to himself and softly looked up to the sky.
“We did it, Father.”