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The Bridgerton drawing room appeared a calm scene at first glance, but upon closer inspection, one could see the signs that it had been invaded and thoroughly claimed by one tiny heir—Edmund Bridgerton II, who clearly considered the room his rightful domain.
Small blocks, wooden horses, and other trinkets appropriate for the toddler were scattered about on the rug. Dessert plates and teacups had been pushed back from the tables’ edges, breakables and family heirlooms temporarily removed from the space.
And in the middle of it all was little Neddy, toddling clumsily like a tiny king between the two women who were most informally sitting on the rug prepared to bend to his every whim.
“And then he asked me to be his mistress,” Sophie said, reaching for a cup of tea that had long since gone cold.
Kate nearly dropped the spoon she had been attempting to pry from Edmund’s determined fist.
“He did not.”
Solemnly, Sophie nodded, though her lips twitched as Edmund abandoned the spoon in favor of her necklace. “Quite sincerely,” she continued. “As though he were offering me a position of great distinction—and as if he were quite clever to have thought of such a plan.”
Kate scoffed, “I see you and raise you—Anthony informed me that having to marry me would be an unthinkable fate.”
“Anthony said that?” Sophie asked as Edmund took two unsteady steps back to his mother.
“Growled it, more like,” Kate recalled as the toddler patted her cheeks. “But meant it quite honestly, I believe. Then, when I told him I was going back to India he informed me it was not far enough away.”
Sophie choked on her tea before returning the cup carefully out of Edmund’s reach. “Oh, that is brazen,” she said once she finally regained her breath.
“Well,” Kate added, one brow arching, “I did also tell him I would never listen to a man I so whole-heartedly disagreed with.”
With deliberate care, Sophie stacked a small tower which Edmund promptly noticed and set to destroying with a cheerful clap of his hands.
“I told Benedict that bachelors were meant to live in bachelor lodgings,” Sophie stated, a hint of amusement in her voice. “And promptly turned him out of Bridgerton House.”
“Oh, that’s genius,” Kate laughed. “I almost wish I would have thought of that.”
Sophie reached for a small, soft biscuit and held it out to the toddler.
Delighted by the temptation, Edmund abandoned the fallen blocks and toddled toward her with determined purpose. She opened her arms without hesitation, gathering him into her lap as though it were the most natural place in the world for him to be. He took the small offering with a satisfied hum, one hand securely gripping his treat, while the other rested firmly on her arm.
Her fingers drifted absently through his curls, her expression softening. “And you married him anyway?”
“You married yours,” Kate replied smugly, though there was a hint of sentimentality in her voice. “He might be a fool, but he is my fool.”
“Cheers to that,” Sophie said, raising her teacup in solidarity. “And they are very handsome.”
“Oh yes,” Kate smiled conspiratorially. “That does help tremendously.”
Edmund clapped again, biscuit crumbs scattering like confetti across the rug as both women dissolved into laughter.
“We chose well,” Sophie said softly.
Kate’s smile turned knowing. “We certainly did.”
Meanwhile, down the hall in the study:
“I think it is healthy,” Benedict said, studying his glass, “that we are a little afraid of our wives.”
Anthony did not hesitate. “I should want nothing less.”
Benedict smirked. “Well, you did very nearly marry Edwina—and she never once frightened you.”
“And you failed to recognize your own wife in a silver mask.”
They considered this.
“We were idiots,” Benedict concluded.
Anthony lifted his glass. “But we are their idiots.”
They drank to that.