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Something felt different.
Kate did not remember her bed, tucked into a guest bedroom at Lady Danbury’s home, being so spacious, nor did she remember a time where Newton had not snored in his dog bed. Yet, here she was, in a bed that felt far bigger and more plush than she remembered it being mere hours ago, in a room that was quiet and still, save for the soft ticking of a clock.
She was also a bit cold. Impossible, for it was nearing summer, and she’d gone to bed in nothing but a simple nightdress, just as she did the night previously. A spring storm had moved through the country the night before, the lightning interrupting her sleep and forcing her to seek refuge elsewhere, with a book. And then, the viscount…
She squeezed her eyes shut.
The sound of the clock tolling midnight shook her out of her reverie, and Kate sat up, gasping at the sight before her. In front of her eyes, beyond the large double bed, stood a room she was undoubtedly unfamiliar with. From what she could make out in the darkness, it was large - so much larger than her room at Lady Danbury’s - and had an attached sitting area and two (two!) darkened, unused fireplaces. Multiple chairs and a chaise longue decorated the space, with side tables, sculptures, and vases of flowers alongside them. She caught sight of a mirror, which was angled towards the bed, and in the dim, moonlit reflection stood a small cradle, delicately carved from the same dark wood that made up the bed she was lying in.
Her eyes widened.
Kate’s breath caught in her chest, and she turned to look at the cradle at her bedside, for the reflection didn’t offer a glimpse of what lay inside. But there, nestled gently on the smallest mattress she’d ever seen, lay a sleeping baby, clad in a long-sleeved nightgown, with tiny fingers bunched into fists.
Was she this baby’s nanny? Their future governess, paid to look after them while their parents could (or would) not?
Baap re baap.
For a moment, the only thing she could do was stare, watching as the child’s impossibly small chest moved up and down in sleep. The baby shifted, a small sound leaving their lips, and Kate realized she was wholly unprepared for whatever reality she’d woken up in.
Reality? That was nonsense. She had to have been dreaming.
Still, it felt wrong for her mind to have conjured up a dream such as this, looking after someone else’s child, and for her not to have taken advantage of it. In this dream-reality, she hadn’t returned to India, for she did not know of anywhere there with decorations so English as the ones in this room. And with the cold that ever-so-slightly nipped at her skin, she knew this to be England, not India. Where exactly was she?
She could find out. Would it be so wrong to explore? Perhaps, she reasoned, if she did, she would wake up before it felt even more frighteningly real. The possibility of staying in England as a governess was one she’d never considered, and it scared her.
Staying on the continent meant she was on the same corner of the earth as Anthony Bridgerton. She couldn’t have that. It was too dangerous - her heart wouldn’t be able to take it. She had to leave.
Quietly, so as to not disturb the baby, Kate rose from the bed, spotting a robe hanging over a chair that she could use to cover herself from the chill. It wasn’t one she thought she’d ever consider picking out for herself, but it was a gorgeous teal fabric, printed with silver and black flowers, and it did warm her considerably once it was snug around her body.
She tried to ignore how well it fit.
Shrugging the thought out of her mind, she glanced at the sleeping child, relieved when she saw they had not awoken, and carefully opened the double doors of the room.
In front of her was yet another room, and Kate was beginning to think her mind was playing tricks on her. Surely this was no room for a nanny, but perhaps she had been lucky enough to find employment with a particularly rich and welcoming family, one who did not care about her background and lack of options for herself. Still, it seemed quite far-fetched for a governess to have been granted her own dressing room and study, complete with even more couches, side tables, and flowers.
Perhaps she really was dreaming. She needed a cup of tea to snap her out of this. If this was truly a dream, she should have had ample ingredients at her disposal - enough to make a good cup of chai from.
She opened another door, one which led to a hallway, and she kept going. Even in the darkness, she could make out portraits of older men hunting, along with multiple brunette children sitting with a woman she assumed to be their mother, in delicate frames hanging on the walls. So this was the family she worked for.
The main staircase showed off even more portraits - more family members she could not make out due to the lack of light. Kate figured there had to have been a way to get to the kitchen from under the stairs, and so she crept down to the ground floor, cautious of the steps that creaked underneath her feet. As she reached the grand entryway and turned to make her way to the basement, where she assumed the kitchen resided, a light in a nearby hallway caught her eye.
Was there a candle burning? That could be a danger - not just for her, but for the family who employed her and the child she was apparently looking after and would teach once they grew up. Carefully, she approached the hallway, realizing that the light was not because of a lit candle on a sconce, but rather due to a warm glow emanating from behind a slightly-open door.
A lit fireplace.
It would be even more dangerous if the fire spread and the door was not locked, causing the flames to fan out towards other parts of the large house, while its residents slept in their beds. Even if this was a dream, she didn’t want it to turn into a nightmare.
Kate’s hands shook as she turned the handle and slowly pushed the door open, the hinges creaking. Inside, she could hear the fire crackling, and she knew she would have to put it out before it was too late–
“What are you doing here?” A quiet voice startled her, and Kate nearly jumped, her eyes widening as her gaze came to rest on that of Anthony Bridgerton. A bearded Anthony Bridgerton. Older, yet less rigid.
The viscount was slumped onto a leather couch, and she realized she’d invaded his private study (which he was clearly still working in, if the papers in his large hands were anything to go by). Alone, and at midnight, no less.
The universe must have been torturing her, laughing at her, or, perhaps, both, because Kate never would have imagined her mind would have dreamed up a scenario where she was working as a governess to Anthony Bridgerton’s child.
Her cheeks burned.
“I’m sorry, my lord,” She said, hurriedly. “I should not be here.”
She backed up, ready to turn and close the heavy door behind her, but, in one swift motion, the viscount discarded his papers and got up from his couch.
“No, no, wait.” He replied, his long legs reaching the door in two large strides and his hand coming to rest on the edge of the door, stopping her from closing it. “I just thought you were asleep.”
She drew her robe tighter around herself, acutely aware of the hour and their proximity to each other. “This is entirely improper.” She chided, and a light crease appeared between his brows as he frowned, narrowing his eyes at her in a way that was oddly... playful. Kate looked away.
She had seen the viscount when he was mad - at her, mostly. She knew when he was vexed, when he was angry, and somehow, even as he frowned at her, she couldn’t say with certainty what his true feelings were, but she knew they were not ones of true anger. This was not an Anthony - a Lord Bridgerton, pardon her - she was accustomed to.
“It is your house, Kathani,” He countered, her full name falling smoothly from his lips as easily as water from a waterfall. Like he'd said it hundreds of times before.
Kathani?
Her eyes flew upwards, making contact with his. “How do you– what?”
That was far too much information for her to handle. She did not know this house, did not know how the viscount knew her true name. She must’ve looked quite alarmed, because Lord Bridgerton stepped forward, his deep brown eyes softening.
“Kate–“
“No, I–" She stepped back, her arms wrapping around her chest. Although the viscount was sans cravat himself and was not as buttoned up as usual, Kate still felt far too exposed in his presence. At least in the library the night prior, they had met as (quite scandalous) equals, both in sleeping clothes. That was not the case here. “What do you mean this is my house? My lord, I have never been here in my life.”
A slow, amused smile grew on the viscount’s face, and he shook his head, closing his eyes. When he opened them and looked at her, Kate felt as if he was looking into her very soul.
“Darling, please don’t play games with me.” He said, letting his hand skim the edge of the door. She watched as his palm smoothed over the wood. “I know it may not feel like it, given everything that has happened in that time, but you have been entitled to this residence for the past two years. I need you to know that it will always be yours.”
Oh. Kate felt warm. She knew there was truth to his words, somehow. There was a softness to his voice she had not known him to possess. And yet–
“Lord Bridgerton, I do not know of what you speak,” She replied, watching as he moved away from the door, reaching for the papers he’d discarded all over the floor and the leather couch. “I have only just arrived here.”
“Yes, from Aubrey Hall. I know,” The viscount said, gathering his work and placing it on the couch.
Kate blinked in shock, frowning. How could he have known? What sort of dream was this?
“How did you know that?” She blurted out, perhaps with more aggression than she intended to, and Lord Bridgerton turned around rather suddenly, his frown much deeper now.
“Kathani, are you quite well?” He asked, placing his hands on his hips. He looked worried - more worried than Kate had ever seen him. Not that she had known him to look particularly worried, of course, it was just– nevermind. “Is everything alright?”
She swallowed. “I am well, it is only that–“
“Is it the baby?”
The baby. Yes, that’s right. She was supposed to be looking after his baby. His baby.
His baby and his family, his wife, were sleeping upstairs. Kate knew that Lord Bridgerton had proposed to her sister just this morning, in reality. Were they married in this dream? Was she truly the nanny of her sister’s child, under the employ of the man she thought it too dangerous for herself to be around?
She thought she might be sick.
“The what?” Kate replied, her voice weak, and the viscount’s questioning gaze seemed pained.
She stood there, unsure of what to do, until Lord Bridgerton reached for her. Kate panicked, trying to move away from his grasp. She didn’t know what she would do if he were to touch her again - the mere idea of his skin on hers seemed to burn. It burned in the woods, on the dance floor, and in the library, and if he were to touch her again Kate thought she might melt.
“Kate, sit down.” He hissed. “Please, darling, you are not well–“
“I do not need to sit down, I need to go home! I want to wake up!” She burst out, and the viscount stopped in place, freezing as if he’d been slapped.
Surprisingly, he didn’t question her further. That seemed like something he ought to have done, she thought. Wasn’t he never one to not have the last word?
They’d fought like this before - him, thinking he knew what she wanted and demanding answers she couldn’t give - in the library at Aubrey Hall, and he was so not keen to give up then. In her mind, that was just a day or so ago. What had changed?
Slowly, the viscount settled himself onto the couch, hands planted firmly beside him as he took a breath. He rubbed a hand over his tired face, palm wiping at his beard, before he looked up at her from his seat.
“Can you answer some questions for me?”
Kate stared at him, her expression blank. “Fine.”
“Who was with you at Aubrey Hall?” He asked, and she crossed her arms.
“Well, you.” She shrugged, and Anthony tsked.
“It would be odd if I were not there,” He commented offhandedly, clearing his throat and sitting up a little more. “And? Who else?”
It was odd and disconcerting to feel as if she was being interrogated about her own (very recent) memories, especially by a man who was, damn it, somehow even more infuriatingly attractive than she remembered him being just a day ago, but Kate soldiered on.
“Your family,” Kate continued. “Along with Lady Danbury, my stepmother, and Edwina.”
The viscount frowned, that little crease appearing between his brows once more. “And it was spring,” He interjected, a strange look in his eyes.
“Yes,” She replied. “How did you–“
“Hold on.” Lord Bridgerton interrupted, holding up his palm to silence her. “How old are you?”
Kate shifted awkwardly, narrowing her eyes. She was standing in his study, in her nightclothes, and now he was asking her for her age? “My age, sir, is none of y–“
Strangely enough, he seemed to have anticipated her defensive response, because he sighed and raised his hand just a bit higher, his gaze meeting hers. “Just answer the question. Please.”
“Six and twenty, my lord.”
Lord Bridgerton exhaled, massaging his beard. He paused for a moment, clearly thinking of the best way to tackle whatever this was that Kate had gotten herself into. “Alright. Well. My l–“ He stopped himself before he could continue. “Miss Sharma. It is not spring anymore.”
“Ah. Summer, then.”
The viscount actually hesitated. “It is fall,” He said, finally, his voice quite odd. “Of 1816.”
More than two years had gone by? How?
She scoffed. “You jest.”
“No.” Lord Bridgerton shook his head, scratching at his cheek. “It’s nearly winter, actually. Hence the beard.”
Kate rolled her eyes at his correction as he pointed out the hair on his face, but began to unpack the situation in her mind. “So you… hired me,” She began, and he sat up in alarm.
“What?” There was that frown again. “No, no, Kate–“
“And I am the governess to your child?” She asked, her voice pointed, and he shook his head, getting up from the couch.
“Kate–“
Again, she began to back away, feeling the heat of the fireplace on her legs. Lord Bridgerton looked hurt as he pleaded with her, but Kate continued to advance backwards.
This was the strangest dream she’d ever had. Why couldn’t she make him see how wrong this was? Why was he so okay with whatever situation the two of them had found themselves in?
When she awoke, she would demand to speak with him. He had to see why she couldn’t stay in England. This was not the life she had wanted for her sister, or herself, least of all an innocent child–
So she barreled on.
“Because I awoke, alone, in an empty bed, with a baby in a cradle, and here you are asking me about that baby–“
“It’s our baby, Kathani!” The viscount burst out, eyes blazing in the firelight. His chest heaved. “He’s our son.”
Kate felt like the wind had been punched out of her lungs as she collided with the back of a chair, which sat opposite the couch.
A son. Her son. Their son. The tiny bundle upstairs that she’d looked down on as they slept had been one half her, the other half the man in front of her, and she’d been none the wiser.
Her mind was cruel.
Something she’d wanted, something so dear to her, had appeared in her dream, in this hypothetical upstairs bedroom in a massive home she’d never been in, made up of her hopes and fears, but it wasn’t real.
He wasn’t real.
But couldn't she find out more? She’d come this far, and more would be within reach if she was brave enough.
The crackling of the fire seemed louder now than before, and when she finally opened her mouth, she couldn’t find the words to speak. “I…”
“Edmund,” Anthony said, his voice soft and his eyes drifting towards the portrait of his father that hung above the mantle. “Our child.”
She swallowed thickly. Just yesterday, in the library, he’d told her of his father, how humbling it felt for such a great man to be felled by something as small as a bee’s stinger. Guilt had flooded her bones at the realization of how he’d acted when a bee had stung her. She’d thought him mad but tried to calm him anyway. Now his reaction made sense.
Was she wrong about him? Perhaps she was. Was this her mind telling her so?
Tears pricked at her eyes. “You named him after your father.”
“You named him, actually,” He replied, a small smile tugging at his lips. “It was your suggestion.”
Her thoughts drifted towards the recent day she’d played pall mall, falling into the mud and discovering the late viscount’s grave. Where she saw his memorial, saw how loved he was. But why did she suggest his name? How could she love someone she’d never met?
She was terribly confused by this reality.
A broken, awkward laugh escaped her as she looked at him. “My lord, you are confusing me.”
“How so?”
“You are different,” Kate confessed, swiping at her eyes. “I do not know this version of you. I do not know what I feel–“
“You are different to me, too,” Anthony said, looking at her with tired, soft eyes. “But I know you.”
“And this version of me you speak of, what am I to you?” She bit out. “You say we have a child, but… how?”
“Kate,” He sighed. “You really should sit down. It will make things easier.”
She glared at him through bleary, tearful eyes. “I don’t appreciate taking orders from you.”
Something about that statement made him chuckle. “So you’ve said to me,” Anthony replied, pulling out the chair opposite the one she was leaning against. “Many times.”
She frowned at his nonchalance as he folded himself into his seat. “Tell me,” She said, her voice shaking. As fearful as she was of his answer, she truly did want to know. “Tell me, so this dream can end.”
He folded his hands, looking up at her. His calm exterior did not match hers, which was marred with confusion and hurt. “Sit and I will tell you, darling.”
“You–“ Kate began, but he shushed her, gesturing towards the seat opposite him. Reluctantly, she sat.
He was looking at her in the oddest way, like he could see every part of her. The viscount she knew did not look at her like this. It made her uncomfortable.
“Kathani, you are my wife.” He said, his voice measured and truthful, his eyes kind as he gazed at her. “You and Edmund are my whole world.”
Kate froze, her mouth parting slightly as her hands gripped the armrests. No.
“We traveled frequently, so you have not spent much time at home, here, than you have at Aubrey Hall and other parts of the continent. We returned here from Aubrey Hall with the baby after we went to India.”
Kate’s eyes widened, and she shook her head in disbelief. India. She went home with this man by her side. Impossible.
“No, my lord, that is impossible. It would take far too much time–“
“We have time,” He replied softly, reaching for her hand. Her breath caught as his skin made contact with hers, and she tried to pull away, but his fingers intertwined with hers, gentle yet sturdy. “I took you to India so you could have our child, so we could spend time together as a family and teach him about his mother’s heritage. Your heritage.”
Her eyes welled with tears once again. “But why?”
She couldn’t understand the man in front of her. How had he changed so much in two years time? She knew him to be solemn, irritating, and cocky, bound by familial duty, unwilling to stray from society’s rules. He seemed to see women as nothing but a chess piece, a statue or a trophy to complete the path he was expected to take as the lord of the house. Now, here he was, moving the heavens and the earth to be with her.
It was unfathomable to her, and yet to this version of the viscount, it seemed to come as easy as breathing.
“Because I love you,” He said, his voice quiet and certain, and she gasped, both at the words and the sensation of his fingers rubbing over her knuckles. “I told you now that you and Neddy are my whole world. I told you when I asked for your hand that I could not imagine my life without you.”
“It must be hard for this version of you to hear this,” He continued, closing his eyes. “Because if I remember correctly, the version of me you know is about to–“
“You proposed to my sister,” Kate interrupted, her voice shaky. He sighed, tilting his head back. “Just today.”
“Yes.” He said, exhaustion and regret filling his voice. “So you are past that point already. It is confusing, to be sure, but it will make sense in due time.”
She couldn’t help it - she sniffled and began to cry, and the viscount’s eyes snapped open in alarm. In a flash, he had exited his seat and was down on his knees before her, both hands clutching hers.
“I did not mean to upset you, my love,” He replied, brows furrowed in concern over her weeping. “Oh, Kathani, my darling, I am so sorry–“
He brought her into his arms, cradling her as she wept. His hands smoothed her hair and his lips kissed her forehead, which only made her cry harder.
“I don’t know what I feel for you,” She hiccuped. “I don’t– I can’t understand–“
“You do not have to understand right now,” He said, his voice soft as Kate felt him breathe in where his nose touched her hairline. “It is late, and you said this is a dream, correct?”
She nodded, quivering, watching as his nose bumped against hers, their foreheads touching. One hand rubbed her back, the other massaged her fingers, and Kate felt the weight she’d been carrying lift.
His touch didn’t burn. It was warm, comforting. She gulped, closing her eyes.
“Then you have time to figure it out, Kathani,” He reassured her, his lips ghosting against hers as he spoke, his beard lightly tickling her cheeks. “The version of me you speak of does, too.”
Kate exhaled, tears streaking her cheeks, and Anthony pressed a kiss to her forehead. He got up from the floor and offered her his hand. She took it, albeit hesitantly.
“You can go back up to our bed and finish your dream,” He continued, leading her towards the door. “And when you wake, you may be confused… you may still hate me, actually,” The viscount winced. “But you must know, you can still have what you want, even if it scares you. I don’t think anyone on earth knows that better than I.”
Kate huffed at his audacity, but a broken chuckle still left her lips. “Of course.”
“And you, in time,” He added, smiling. “We are very happy together, you and I. I hope you will come to recognize that.”
She ducked her head in acknowledgment as he squeezed her hand, not quite feeling confident enough to nod and agree with him. “Good night, my lord.”
“Anthony.”
“Anthony.” His name fell from her lips quite easily.
He smiled, wider this time, his hand coming up to cup her face and tuck her hair behind her ear as he pressed another kiss to her forehead. She flushed, stepping away.
She’d allowed herself to be caught up in whatever this was, and now reality was catching up to her. This was entirely inappropriate. She was not what he was accustomed to her being to him - his wife. Here she was, an unmarried woman, a spinster, in the viscount’s study at midnight.
“I’m sorry, this is not–“
“Good night, Kate.” He interrupted her, nodding towards the door and reaching to close the large open ledger on his desk. “I will take care of the fire for you tonight.”
The fireplace. She’d forgotten, she’d come here to put it out. But she’d never mentioned such a thing to him. How could he have known?
“But I never–“
“I know you, Kathani.” Anthony said, his eyes so dark and persuasive she could feel herself breaking out into a sweat as she looked at him. “You must have faith in that.”
“I… I will,” She responded. She was still unsure, but decided to take his words to heart. Kate softly closed the door behind her, meeting Anthony’s eyes one last time before it shut with a soft click.
Once she was alone in the hallway, her eyelashes fluttered rapidly as fear coursed through her veins. Her heart pounded as she breathed heavily, her pulse racing. What had just happened?
She needed her chai, now more than ever. Retracing her steps, Kate quickly found the door to the basement and let herself inside, making sure the coast was clear and that no one saw her leaving the viscount’s study.
When she descended the steps and arrived in the large kitchen, she still felt uneasy, both warmed and panicked by what had occurred, and steadied herself against the countertop. A clock, hung high on the wall, ticked loudly, which didn’t help to calm her nerves.
She was scared. Terrified, really.
Anthony’s words echoed in her brain. You can still have what you want, even if it scares you.
Something was different.