Chapter Text
Hastings House, London, 1813
The Duke and Duchess of Hastings’ End-of-the-Season Ball
The Honourable Miss Eloise Bridgerton took one look at her sister and brother-in-law’s guests mingling around the courtyard and decided to take Daphne up on her offer of escape. Gathering her skirt with one hand, she turned and hurried back up the stairs then made a beeline for Hastings House’s library.
Surely no one will bother me here, she thought as she settled in a leather-covered chair with her journal and quill and started to write.
The Most Honourable Brynden, Marquess Rivers, was half-listening to a Member of Parliament drone on and on about the latest Act when a liveried servant approached him with a sealed letter on a silver tray.
“A message for you, my lord, from Downing Street,” the man said with a bow.
Brynden nodded as he accepted the letter. Unsurprisingly, Simon, one of his closest friends and the party’s host, was immediately at his elbow.
“Unwelcome news?” the young duke asked sympathetically.
“Most likely,” Brynden muttered as he examined the seal for any signs of forgery then turned to him. “I assume your library is available? Something this important requires privacy to read and form a reply.”
Simon nodded. “Take all the time you need.” He smirked. “It’s not as though you would be depriving any young ladies of a dance partner any more than you already are.”
Brynden rolled his lone eye. “You should know by now, Hastings, that I never dance.” He spotted Simon’s duchess Daphne making her way to them. “You, on the other hand, should dance with your wife.” He knew the two were having difficulties, though Simon had yet to confide in him the specifics.
Simon took a deep breath then went to speak to his wife while Brynden made his way inside.
Eloise looked up as the door to the library opened and the man known as Lord Bloodraven entered the room. They had never met but she would know the Prime Minister’s right-hand man, and rumored spymaster, anywhere – his albino coloring, the port-wine raven-shaped birthmark on his right cheek, and the patch over his missing left eye were unmistakable. Despite the man being friends with Anthony since their Oxford days, her brother had never seen fit to introduce Bloodraven to his family. Eloise knew of the man’s reputation – ruthless, merciless, only romantically interested in Lady Shiera Merétoile (who was rumored to be his half-sister), dabbling in the dark arts, keeping a close eye on the Prime Minister’s allies in Parliament, and an even closer eye on his enemies.
Due to said reputation, the man was rarely seen among the ton, so to see him in the doorway of her sister and brother-in-law’s library was doubly surprising. The young marquess was dressed in the finest evening clothes, his long white hair tied back, and his cravat expertly-tied. He bowed as she got to her feet.
“Forgive me,” he muttered, though it seemed to Eloise that he was merely following etiquette instead of any real feeling of contrition.
Not that I’m any better most of the time, she thought as she curtsied. “It’s fine, truly. My sister said I could, um, hide in here for the rest of the ball.”
“You must be Miss Bridgerton.”
Eloise couldn’t help a smile. “Yes – Miss Eloise Bridgerton. And you are friends with my brother Anthony and Simon, my brother-in-law.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I take it you know who I am.”
“All of England knows who you are, Lord Bloodraven.” Her eyes widened as she realized she’d let his sobriquet slip. “Er, Lord Rivers.” She eyed the folded and sealed parchment in his hand. “You obviously have business to conduct so I’ll leave you to it.” She curtsied again and didn’t wait for him to bow before hurriedly leaving the library.
It wasn’t until she was halfway down the hall that she realized she’d left her journal and quill but by then, the library door was firmly closed. I’ll just have to wait him out.
The latest crisis required an immediate return to Downing Street – international politics left no time for social affairs. It was one of the main reasons why Brynden rarely participated in the Season, the other being that he disdained most of the ton, the Bridgertons and Bassets excepted. High society wanted only perfection and he fell short in too many ways for them to fully accept him.
I am only here tonight because it’s Simon and Daphne’s first time hosting as the Duke and Duchess and they need all the support they can get.
He was about to leave the library when he spotted a leather-bound book and quill on a small table beside a chair near the windows, the same chair Miss Bridgerton had occupied when he had entered. Brynden had to admit he was sorely tempted to read whatever was written inside as its author had intrigued him but decided such an action was beneath him as a gentleman.
Instead, he carried the journal and quill into the hall, where, as expected, Miss Bridgerton waited. He gave her a slight bow as he presented them to her. “Yours, I believe.”
She accepted them with wide eyes. “You … didn’t read it, did you?”
Brynden chuckled quietly and noticed that the young lady shivered. “Despite what you may have heard, Miss Bridgerton, I am a gentleman and a gentleman does not pry into a lady’s secrets.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Even a gentleman that has ‘a thousand eyes and one?’” There was a challenge in her eyes but not one he had the time to meet.
“Don’t believe everything you hear,” he replied, his voice low and just a hint of warning in his tone.
As he expected, that was enough to intimidate her. “Right, of course. I bid you goodnight, Lord Rivers.” She curtsied and he bowed before walking past her without another word.
He wouldn’t see her again for almost two years.