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The room was quiet save for the faint rustle of curtains swaying in the morning breeze. The bouquet Anthony had brought sat in a vase on the table, its blooms a stark contrast to the storm brewing between the two occupants of the room.
Kate kept her posture stiff, her fingers clenching the edge of the quilt as though it were the only thing tethering her to reality.
Anthony remained near the door, the tension in his frame palpable. He had rehearsed this conversation a hundred times in his mind, but now, faced with Kate’s guarded demeanor, the words felt foreign.
“Lord Bridgerton,” Kate said at last, her voice clipped.
“I’m glad to see you’re awake,” Anthony replied, the formality in his tone masking the weight of his emotions.
Kate stared, her eyes cool but questioning. “I hear it was you who found me and brought me home safe. I suppose I must be grateful for our very first race in the park. If it were not for that fateful moment, who knows what else could have happened?”
A flicker of something crossed Anthony’s face. Regret, perhaps?
“Hmm,” he murmured, his hands clasping behind his back.
“Thank you for the flowers,” Kate continued, gesturing toward the vase. “Was there something else, my lord?”
“Yes,” Anthony said, his voice steady but uncharacteristically soft. “I called on you. The morning after.”
Kate tilted her head slightly, waiting.
“I called on you to apologize,” he went on, his eyes meeting hers. “You deserved so much more than that. I took liberties, I—” He faltered, his voice tightening. “I did not want it to happen like that. So I came to apologize.”
Kate’s expression remained unmoved. “Yes, you already said—”
“And to ask you to marry me,” Anthony interrupted, his words deliberate, heavy.
The air seemed to leave the room. Kate blinked, momentarily stunned, before recovering. “I—what?”
“Miss Sharma,” Anthony began, taking a step closer to the bed. “I’m here, and I’m asking—”
“What are you doing?” Kate snapped, cutting him off, her voice rising. “No. My lord, I do not need you to ask me anything at all.”
Anthony froze, his jaw tightening. “Kate, I—”
“I am returning to India,” she declared, her voice firm but trembling slightly at the edges. “The moment I resolve matters with my sister, I am returning to India. It is decided.”
Anthony’s eyes darkened, the weight of her words hitting him like a blow. “And your family’s financial affairs?” he asked after a beat.
“Lady Danbury has offered to sponsor my mother and sister for another season,” Kate replied briskly. “I am certain they will do perfectly well on their own, as it is clear I am of no help.”
“You are running away,” Anthony said quietly, his voice low but sharp.
Kate’s lips parted in disbelief, and then her anger flared. “And what, pray tell, do you believe I am running away from?”
Anthony stepped even closer, his frustration slipping through his otherwise calm facade. “From this. From me. From us.”
“Us?” Kate laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “You speak as though there is some great bond between us, some unshakable connection that defies logic and reason. But let us be honest, my lord, what is between us is mere passion, nothing more. Whatever fleeting moment we shared, it was a mistake. One that you are clearly desperate to fix with a marriage proposal.”
“A mistake?” Anthony echoed, his voice rising. “Is that truly what you think? That what happened between us was meaningless?”
“What else could it have been?” Kate demanded, her eyes blazing. “You were engaged to my sister. Or do you intend to stand here and tell me that you have forgotten that small detail?”
Anthony flinched but didn’t back down. “I have not forgotten. Do you think this is easy for me? Do you think I wanted any of this? Do you think I planned to feel—”
“Feel what?” Kate interrupted, her voice sharp but trembling. “What is it that you feel, my lord? Guilt? Obligation? Regret? Because if you think for one moment that I will allow you to trap me in a life built on duty and shame, you are sorely mistaken.”
Anthony’s eyes locked onto hers, his frustration boiling over. “You think so little of me,” he said through gritted teeth. “You think I am here because of some misguided sense of honor? You think I would propose to you, ask you to be my wife, if I did not—” He stopped himself, inhaling sharply before continuing, his voice quieter but no less intense. “It is a choice. My choice.”
Kate’s breath hitched, her defenses momentarily wavering. “And you would choose me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Yes,” Anthony said without hesitation, his gaze steady. “I would.”
Kate stared at him, her heart pounding painfully in her chest. She wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that he saw her as more than just the second-best choice, more than just an obligation.
But she couldn’t. Not when his actions throughout the season had spoken louder than his words. Never once choosing her, not when he had the choice.
“You are a fool,” she said finally, her voice breaking. “Because I cannot—I will not be the woman who destroys her sister’s happiness. I will not be the cause of any more of her pain.”
Anthony’s face hardened, but there was no mistaking the anguish in his eyes. “And what about your happiness, Kate?” he asked quietly.
“My happiness does not matter,” she said, her voice resolute despite the tears threatening to fall. “It never has.”
Her words hung in the air, desolate and final, though the tears glistening in her eyes betrayed her. Anthony stood rooted to the spot, his chest rising and falling as though he’d been struck.
Kate turned her head away, her breath uneven. “Please leave,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
For a moment, Anthony didn’t move, his gaze fixed on her as though willing her to look at him. But when she didn’t, he straightened, his expression hardening.
“As you wish,” he said quietly before turning and walking out, the sound of the door closing behind him echoing in the silent room.
Kate collapsed into herself, her composure unraveling as tears finally spilled down her cheeks.