Chapter Text
Fighting the urge to let out a sigh full of boredom, you raised the glass of sparkling wine up to your lips.
While taking a delicate sip, your eyes roamed across the vast room once again. It seemed like they were in search of something, but you honestly could not say what. For what seemed like the hundredth time, your gaze was occupied by men who drank too much, women who thought too little, and musicians whose instruments were the slightest bit out of tune.
Taking in the sight as you stood by the table of refreshments, you were hit with the sudden realization that your eyes had been in search of the glamor a high society ball once offered you.
Before you were married, a party with such intricate dances and overhanging chandeliers would have certainly filled you with awe and amazement. But these days, you found that your feelings aired more on the side of weariness than wonderment.
You supposed that was to be expected given how unpredictably cruel you knew life to be.
Since your mother’s death following your birth, and your father’s death not soon after, you were raised by a frightful aunt who married you off to some lord not even a full month into your first season.
But as the fates would have it, your new husband ended up catching a fever during your honeymoon that quickly developed into something darker.
Having just enough time to get his affairs in order, the man you were sentenced to spend the rest of your life with, took his last breath only hours later.
This unforeseen turn meant you went from wife to widow within the span of a week.
Though you were not really acquainted with the one you called husband, the rules of society still demanded that you mourn him as if you were.
So after secluding yourself and donning black for the required year and a day, you looked forward to attending an event where you did not have to wear the subdued color.
However, now that you were here, your mind incessantly wished that you were not.
Even prior to your marriage, a part of you always thought balls to be mundane affairs with only the prospect of finding a match to make it interesting.
But now that you were aware of all the aspects that pertain to wedded life, you were not convinced you should seek it out again.
After all, you had already achieved what many young ladies set out for by using the marital institution to secure wealth and a respectable position in society.
With all that you could want in hand, you were starting to question what you were even doing at this magnificently dull soiree since parties such as these were for matchmaking and the marriage mart—neither of which held your interest as you were coming to learn.
Setting your drink down as you stifled another sigh, you turned and decided to start looking for some kind of exit.
Slowly making your way through the throng of elegantly dressed people, you first felt relief once you came across a set of double doors on a nearby wall.
Thinking them to be the doors you originally entered through, your next emotion was confusion when you saw an outdoor garden rather than an indoor hallway on the other side.
Realizing you had made a mistake, you were about to turn back in order to rejoin the party. But as the serenity of the quiet, night air enveloped your being, you found that your feet had slowly begun to make their way forward instead.
Hoping that a simple stroll through this season’s blooms and blossoms might put you in a more agreeable mood, you continued walking through the lavish landscape.
You were not sure how long you spent wondering, but it could not have been more than a few minutes later before you eventually gave up.
Deciding it was best to just leave altogether, you started to make your way back to the party until a sudden grip on your upper arm prevented you from doing so.
In a flash, you spun around to face the one who had grabbed you and were both terrified and relieved to see it was a face you knew.
You had been introduced while you were on your honeymoon and your husband was on his deathbed.
When it became known that his health was failing, it was this man that showed up looking for an inheritance.
Being your husband’s younger brother, you could still remember how he heartlessly announced that he was present to ensure his place in the line of succession and nothing more.
So as your present fear turned into outright irritation, you let out an annoyed huff of your brother-in-law’s name while forcefully shrugging your arm from his hand and demanding to know,
“What are you doing here?”
When your pulling away caused him to stumble in place for a moment, your other senses immediately took note of the alcoholic stench permeating from his body and the slurred way he began to speak.
“W-what am I doing here? What are you doing here??”
He jabbed an accusatory finger in your direction as he asked this question before he brokenly followed up with,
“If…if anyone should not be here, it is you and…and not I, you wicked harlot!”
You could not deny that your eyes had narrowed the slightest bit at this insult. So after straightening your back, you coldly responded to the drunken man in front of you.
“If you wish to address me, you will do so by calling me, ‘Your Grace’. If that is too much of a challenge for you to overcome, I suggest you do not address me at all.”
Done with the idea of being in his presence, you turned to make your way back inside only to be grabbed again not even a foot away.
Quickly putting your hands up to shove as hard as you could, you pushed your late husband’s brother back as you determinedly yelled out,
“Unhand me!”
He only stumbled back a little before regaining his barings and making a second attempt to rush you.
Only this time, he was intercepted by another man.
Letting out a gasp as your brother-in-law was suddenly thrown to the ground, you could only watch as the person still standing threateningly said,
“I believe I heard the Lady say to unhand her. I would advise leaving now before I feel the need to intervene any further.”
He kept himself in-between you and the drunk on the floor as he spoke which meant you could not see who your rescuer was. But whomever they might be, it was obvious that their tone left no room for negotiation.
Watching over the shoulder of the stranger as your husband’s brother staggered to his feet, you kept your face blank as he threw one last glare in your direction and walked away on unsteady legs until he was out of sight.
Once you could no longer see him, you let out a sigh you did not realize you were holding and raised a soothing hand to your temple as you closed your eyes.
When you opened them again, you unexpectedly found yourself staring into someone else’s gaze.
You and the handsome stranger continued to stare at one another until you remembered yourself moments later.
Clearing your throat and taking a step back, you opened your mouth and cordially said,
“Good sir, while I appreciate your stepping in, I can assure you that I had the situation well under control.”
Raising a surprised brow, the man in front of you proceeded to cross his arms over his chest as he replied.
“Oh? You looked like you were in need of rescuing from where I was standing.”
“A matter of perspective then.”
Though you allowed the flippant response, it was your rescuer who allowed an amused smirk to grow on his face after the fact. Briefly looking you up and down, his tone was confident as he quietly repeated back to you in the quiet, night air,
“A matter of perspective, indeed.”
You felt an unexplainable flutter when he said this and his eyes locked onto yours. But before you had the chance to get drawn in another time, you decided to give a prompt nod of gratitude and goodbye prior to making your way back to the party at last.
Once inside, you looked back to take in the sight of the ball as you finally neared the correct exit.
In search of something again, your eyes continued roving over the crowd until they landed on someone already looking in your direction.
Catching the gaze of your handsome rescuer from across the room, you were pleasantly surprised to have a playful smile thrown your way after a respectful bow of his head. Unable to prevent your expression from mimicking his, you tried to keep your smile to yourself as you finally turned to leave the party.
On the other side of the soiree, Anthony Bridgerton was being brought back to reality as his eldest sibling clasped a hand onto the Viscount’s shoulder.
“Brother, what are you looking at with such intensity?”
But as the second oldest Bridgerton only had to follow his brother’s eyes to see what had captured his attention, he was no longer confused when they landed on your retreating figure.
Amused, the artist turned back to the Viscount when he dazedly asked,
“Tell me Benedict, who is that?”
“I do not know. I have only seen her a few times.”
As they both watched you leave, Anthony decided that this was not enough information.
“Come now, you must know more than that.”
Smiling at his brother’s impatience, Benedict calmly replied,
“All I know is that she is widowed and has just come out of her mourning period.”
And with what he had heard at his gentlemen’s club, and all that he had read from Lady Whistedown’s column, Anthony finished putting two and two together and was suddenly hit with the fact that he knew who you were.
“That is not some widow, Brother.”
Catching the last glimpse of you, the Viscount astonishingly breathed out,
“That is the Duchess.”