Chapter Text
Kate Sharma-Bridgerton had long since accepted that marrying Anthony Bridgerton had also meant marrying the rest of his family.
It wasn't unusual to find one of her siblings-in-law in her house at almost any hour of the day. Anthony insisted that everyone had a key - for emergencies he had claimed. Kate had pointed out that Gregory forgetting his phone charger did not constitute an emergency. Anthony had argued that it might.
Besides, their house on Kensington Lane had become something of a refuge. It was closer to central London than most of the others' homes, had a perpetually stocked fridge thanks to Anthony's inability to grocery shop in sensible quantities, and Kate had a habit of making tea for whoever wandered in looking miserable.
Over the years she'd seen it all.
Colin arriving at midnight because Penelope had jokingly called him "dramatic" and he'd wanted reassurance that he wasn't.
Gregory bursting through the front door at six in the morning because he'd accidentally set off the fire alarm trying to make toast in his uni halls while slightly drunk.
Hyacinth hiding in the spare bedroom after losing an argument with Violet.
Even Eloise, who loudly declared she didn't need anybody's advice, had appeared more than once with a bottle of wine and a crisis she'd sworn she didn't have.
Sometimes they came celebrating.
Sometimes they came crying.
Sometimes they simply helped themselves to Anthony's expensive drinks cabinet and left again.
Kate had grown used to Bridgerton-level emergencies; problems that somehow managed to be both catastrophic and entirely ridiculous. Looking after Edwina when they were younger suddenly seemed wonderfully straightforward in comparison. She wasn't entirely sure how Anthony wasn't completely grey already.
Still, experience did little to prepare her for switching on the kitchen light at two o'clock in the morning and finding Benedict Bridgerton sitting silently at the breakfast island.
She jumped.
"Benedict!"
The light flooded the room, and for a second neither of them moved.
He sat perfectly still on one of the stools, elbows resting on the counter, absently spinning a cork coaster beneath his fingertips. He wasn't scrolling through his phone. He wasn't nursing a drink.
He was simply... staring into the abyss.
"Neddy," Kate murmured automatically as the sudden movement woke the sleepy toddler balanced on her hip. He gave a tiny, disgruntled whine before burying his face against her shoulder again.
Only then did Benedict seem to notice she was there.
He blinked.
"Kate?"
His voice sounded oddly distant.
"What are you doing here?"
Kate stared at him.
"I live here."
"...Right."
"But you," she continued, "are sitting in my kitchen at two in the morning."
"Oh."
He glanced vaguely around the room, as though only just realising where he'd ended up.
"I suppose I am."
Kate narrowed her eyes.
He wasn't drunk.
Normally, when Benedict appeared unexpectedly, there was at least one empty taxi receipt in his pocket and the faint smell of overpriced cocktails following him through the house. Tonight there was none of that.
He looked... shell-shocked.
"I thought you had a date tonight," she said, carrying Neddy towards the fridge.
"I did."
"And?"
He watched her take out a bottle of milk.
"Here was closer than home."
Kate sighed.
"That's not an answer."
She poured milk into Neddy's bottle while Benedict resumed spinning the coaster.
Silence stretched between them.
Eventually she looked over her shoulder.
"So?"
He sighed so deeply she wondered if his lungs might collapse.
"I think I might have said something stupid."
Kate paused halfway through screwing the lid onto the bottle.
"You're a Bridgerton."
He looked up.
"I can already tell you've done something stupid."
For the first time that evening, the corner of his mouth twitched.
"I walked into that one."
"You really did. Go to the living room. I’ll be in in a minute,” she instructed. He nodded and once she had Neddy’s bottle she followed him in and found him lying on the couch as if in a psychiatrist’s office. Anthony had always claimed Benedict was the dramatic one of the family - if film making didn’t work out, the front of the camera beckoned.
“So the date didn’t go well?” Kate was surprised, he had actually planned things for it and had asked for countless opinions on his clothes and the restaurant. It was so unlike him.
“No. It did.”
Benedict stared at the ceiling, but his face changed as he spoke. The shock faded slightly, replaced by something softer. Something almost dazed.
“She was perfect,” he continued. “She was funny. Properly funny. Not just polite-date funny where someone laughs because they feel they should.”
Kate leaned back in the chair, watching him.
“She was smart. And quick. She had this way of looking at me like she was trying to decide whether I was ridiculous or charming.”
“That is a difficult call.”
“I know.” His mouth curved faintly. “But I think she was leaning towards charming.”
“Dangerous assumption.”
“She laughed at my jokes.”
“You do have some good ones.”
“Thank you.”
“Some.”
He ignored that.
“And we talked. For hours. About everything. Art and food and terrible landlords and childhood films and whether tiramisu is overrated.”
“It isn’t.”
“That’s what I said.”
“That doesn’t sound like a problem.”
“Then she ran off.”
“She was saying she hated her flat. There were... rats. Or bats. It might have been bats. I wasn't really listening."
"You weren't listening." That was just rude.
"I was distracted."
"By?"
"The fact I was wondering how quickly she'd agree to marry me."
Kate slowly lowered Neddy's bottle.
"Benedict..."
"So I suggested she move in with me."
Silence.
Neddy finished his bottle with a contented sigh.
Kate stared.
"You... what?"
"I told her she shouldn't have to live somewhere with rodents."
"So naturally..."
"...I said she could live in my spare room."
Kate continued staring.
"I've lived alone since Henry moved out."
"Benedict."
"I thought she'd like to see the flat."
"Benedict."
"I said we could leave straight after dessert."
"Benedict."
"Then she stood up."
"And?"
"Said she was going to the bathroom."
Kate already knew the ending.
"...She never came back."
"No."
Kate looked at her brother-in-law. He was watching her with genuine confusion and a little bit of panic, as though he had spent the last few hours replaying the evening and still could not quite understand how it had gone wrong.
“I think,” Kate said slowly, “you scared her off.”
“How?”
The question was so sincere that Kate nearly laughed.
Instead, she stared at him for a long moment, wondering not for the first time how the Bridgertons had survived into adulthood. They were clever people. Successful people. Charming people. And yet, when it came to emotions and sense, they had all the survival instincts of moths near a candle.
“You asked a woman you barely know to move in with you.
"I was being kind."
"You were being unhinged."
"I wasn't."
"You absolutely were."
He looked genuinely bewildered.
"I only meant— If I’m going to marry her..”
“Ben! You don’t know her!” Kate tried to make him see sense.
“But there was this connection Kate. Like something clicked. A light went on. Everything was clear. In full technicolour. Like Dorothy arriving in Oz.”
Kate rolled her eyes; referencing movies was never good.
“Ok. We’ll go over this again.” She put Neddy over her shoulder to burp him. “You asked a complete stranger to move in with you. You could be a murderer or anything. Naturally that’s going to freak her out.”
“I was a bit strong then?”
“That’s like saying the Titanic was a little boating accident.”
He groaned and dropped his head into his hands.
“I gave off true crime documentary vibes.”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“I told a woman to live with me before I’d even paid the bill.”
“You did.”
“I might as well have asked her what size wedding dress she wears.”
Kate pressed her lips together.
“Did you?”
“No!”
“Good. Small mercies.”
He looked up, horrified.
“Do you think she thinks I’m a murderer?”
“I think she thinks you’re a man she met on the internet who invited her home and offered her a bedroom.”
“That sounds worse when you say it.”
“It is worse when I say it accurately.”
He fell back against the sofa and stared at the ceiling again.
For a moment, Kate let him sit with it. She adjusted Neddy, who had finally relaxed fully against her, his little body heavy with sleep.
“Have I ruined it?”
The question was quieter this time.
Kate hesitated.
She could have softened it. She could have given him a pretty answer. But Benedict did not need pretty. He needed honest.
“Probably.”
His face fell.
Kate immediately felt a little guilty.
“Maybe,” she added.
His eyes lifted to hers with pathetic speed.
“Maybe?”
“I don’t know, Benedict. You may have frightened her so badly that she has already blocked your number and told three friends to check in if she ever mentions your name again.”
He looked pained.
“Or,” Kate continued, “she may realise, eventually, that you are not dangerous. Just ridiculous.”
“I can work with ridiculous.”
“You’ve been working with ridiculous for years.”
He took that as encouragement, which was perhaps her first mistake.
“Can I fix it?”
Kate sighed.
“I don’t know.”
“But could I?”
“Possibly.”
“Could you help me?”
“No.”
“Kate.”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“My favourite sister-in-law.”
“I’m your only sister-in-law.”
“Ergo, my favourite.”
“That is not how compliments work.”
“It is when they’re true.”
Kate shook her head and stood carefully, shifting Neddy so his cheek rested against her shoulder. He was fully asleep now, one hand curled into her jumper.
“We’ll continue this in the morning,” she said, when her brain would be on full power. “I have a baby to put back to bed.”
“What should I do now?” He asked.
“Do not text her again tonight.”
His guilty expression appeared far too quickly.
“Benedict.”
“I haven’t sent anything.”
“Yet?”
“I typed something.”
“What did it say?”
He hesitated.
Kate’s eyes narrowed.
“It started with ‘Please don’t be afraid.’”
Kate stared at him in horror.
“Delete it.”
“I didn’t send it!”
“Delete it from existence.”
He took out his phone obediently and tapped the screen.
“Done.”
“Good.” She pointed towards the stairs. “Now. Phone down here and go to bed.”
Maybe Kate should have said no.
She should have told him that one date was not enough to know such a thing. She should have reminded him that love was not a film scene, that real life did not turn to technicolour just because a pretty woman laughed at your jokes over tiramisu.
But she was a Bridgerton snd she did mostly believe in their idea of love matches. So she was in - whether it was a good idea or not.