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Despite feeling like a sailboat caught somewhere close to the eye of an unending storm for most of last season, Simon Basset considered himself a content man. If he were to comment on his current life with the bleary lens that he held close to his heart most of his life, he would have balked and perhaps taken the first ship on the port.
Yet, here he was, balancing his son on his shoulder all while standing several feet away from the edge of the terrace, a most precious weight on his shoulders, providing them with a purpose. Behind him, the source of his strength and the balm to his soul enjoyed the flowers that she had employed his gardeners to lay across the roof.
Their lodgings in London were in quite the disarray, given they hardly spent any of their time in the city post their final parting ball. It was incredibly astounding, how far they had come. How bleak and terrible things had been for the longest time, like an incredibly persistent night and an equally delaying morning sun, but they ridden into the brightness together as a unit. As a family.
“Mother would be delighted to receive some of these very beautiful flowers,” Daphne said, approaching him. He reached forward to intertwine their hands but currently his wife was on a mission, with the only goal being to make this house as lively and pleasant as Bridgerton's house, and so her fingertips only narrowly touched his as she reached over to the edge to look down to the front porch, where the gardeners were hard at work, remodeling all the arrangements and causing a general upheaval.
“Do you think we should have delayed our arrival? Given all the work that is left to do, perhaps it would have been wiser to wait a week more at Clyvedon?” He wasn't the biggest fan of the constant mess, or the smell of construction, wood, and soil, but he knew his wife's answer.
“And miss my sister's debut? Agatha's conservatory ball?”
“No, absolutely not.” Simon found himself agreeing.
“That and of course, the Sharma's. I have ensured Lady Mary that her daughters would have my protection and support.” He added.
“The youngest is named Miss Edwina, is she not?” Daphne asked, finally turning around to look at him, before reaching for Augie. He carefully pulled his son down, holding him to his chest for a precious moment before handing him over to his beloved.
“Yes. She is quite the accomplished young lady.”
“And what about her sister?” Daphne asked, only curious to know more about the new family in the ton. They had heard all about Lady Mary from the various older help and his godmother, and the fact that the sisters held the lioness's highest regard only meant they would be quite the pair making their debut.
His duchess had expressed interest in meeting and befriending them both but was held back due to the discovery of some rather old metalware from the gardens. So it was only Simon who had appeared at the Danbury household, intent on making introductions and offering his protection. For a family of young ladies without a brother or a father, that sort of support was necessary. He couldn't have them be insecure or step into society with any nagging doubts.
As it turned out, the Sharma family hardly had anything to worry about. His godmother was an excellent host and a formidable woman who was far too feared in society for anyone to try anything, but the security and faith that glimmered in the eyes of the Sharma women seemed to stem from the fact that they were being led by the older sister.
Kate Sharma was a force. A slightly rattling but largely protective force. Standing tall and proud, she held the confidence and poise of a woman who had wielded swords in many a war and emerged victorious. There was nary a thing that made her voice quiver, and for the introduction where she so passionately praised her sister, even at the expense of Agatha's wrath, he knew that she commanded every single attribute to perfection. Power too, perhaps.
If he had not heard his godmother worry about her slightly advanced age for London's culturally repressed marriage mart, he would have assumed her to be some powerful foreign man's intended. She held that sort of aura, of a princess to be, perhaps.
She had immediately declined an invitation to the mart, stating that she was content with only watching over her sister. Simon agreed with her sentiments. A woman did not need the bars of marriage to achieve security or behave in the most assured of ways.
He had taken his time to converse with both the sisters. Miss Edwina was the picture of beauty, grace, and amenability, but for all of her carefully weighed and dutiful responses, she was a young miss, hardly aware of the world and the monsters of the ton. As incredibly polished and perfect as she was in the talents that were taught to her, she needed guidance.
He shared his sentiments with Miss Sharma, who agreed, requesting him to help her sister slowly unfurl her feathers, acquaint and situate herself in society, find her mate, and learn to soar in tandem.
He had agreed, already planning to bring his wife on board to introduce Edwina to the ton and to give her her account of marriage, and life in the ton. He had promised to watch out and to protect her sister's honor.
When Simon had ended his conversation with Miss Sharma, it perplexingly felt like he was being transported back to a conversation with an old friend, a most tragic one at that.
Both conversations seemed to align in his head for some unfathomable reason, which was most befuddling because the older one was the burial ground of a lifelong friendship while this one laid the foundations for a new one.
Simon had crossed the threshold of the Danbury household when it finally dawned upon him, the similarities between the two. Trapped between imperious words of duty and what needed to be done was a silent cry to be released from the stifling nature of the responsibilities they were carrying. Only, neither of them could run away.
Perhaps Miss Sharma could use a friend. Perhaps, while she watched out for her sister and her family, he could watch out for her. Ensure that she wasn't consumed in the tide that would be out to devour this new family.
Simon could never put things to mend with his old friend. Their friendship was severed and trust was lost forever. Perhaps, in helping out Miss Sharma, he could do what he was too afraid to do with the Viscount.
Which is why, the next evening at the conservatory ball, when he found himself hovering somewhere behind the trees, listening intently to a conversation that was testing his ability to not laugh, he knew he had to confront Bridgerton.
“You take issue with my requirements?” From what he remembered of his friend, if a similar conversation went with someone else, there would have been fists and pistols raised alike already. The Viscount was not amenable to being challenged, or to having his opinions questioned, and he would never have had the patience to listen to someone chastise him for so long. Simon remembered being slammed to the ground, a table shattering under his bones, and he knew that Miss Sharma being a lady was not the only reason that Bridgerton was being this patient.
“I take issue with any man who views women as mere chattels and breeding stock!” Miss Sharma's indignant stomped over whatever sly attempt his brother-in-law had made at turning the situation around, and he knew the anger to come soon.
“Viscount Bridgerton, yes?”She wasn't asking. The rustling meant someone was stepping forward and he preciously hoped it wasn't Anthony. Not under the guise of intimidation and most definitely not under the guise of seduction. Miss Sharma did not need her spirit and opinions doused only because a man knew some tricks. “When you find this paragon virtue what is to say that she would accept your suit? Are the young ladies of London truly so easily won, by a pleasing smile and absolutely nothing more?”
“So you find my smile pleasing.”
Simon gaped into the distance, jaw hung open at that impertinent cad. He was almost proud of his friend's ability to filter out the one badly intended compliment and try to twist it into his favor. Not only that, it confirmed his suspicions. His brother-in-law intended to begin something with Miss Sharma, and a fight on their first acquaintance was not it.
“I find your opinion of yourself entirely too high.” Good heavens, this was perfect. Miss Sharma knew exactly how to put a man as arrogant and promiscuous as Bridgerton to his place. It was only her second sentence that put a stop to his glee.
“Your character is as deficient as your horsemanship. I shall bid you good night.”
Simon retreated into the shadows just long enough so she stepped inside without seeing him, before quickly rounding to the open, where his former friend had the most troubled expression on his face, even as he watched her enter the hall. When Anthony saw him, he jumped again, as though the surprises of the night were never-ending.
“Hastings.” He scurried to collect his features to a neutral, the tiring game where they both tried to one-up another snapping back into motion.
“Bridgerton.” He started, spine straight and hands behind his back, looking at him steely. Simon realized that in a whole year of being married to Daphne, he had never once had a proper one-on-one conversation with the Viscount. Not after that fight, which itself was one of his big regrets.
“I believe an apology is in order.”
Bridgerton had to be thinking along the same lines as him because he tensed up immediately, the familiar anger and indigence flashing in his eyes, his body all rigid and staunch. Simon did not let him pounce, because he knew that if left unchecked, the man would.
“No young lady deserves to be left unappeased, especially when her distress could be removed with a simple clarification.” He felt like an offender giving sage advice, but he was a year older than his past mistakes and had done several rounds of repentance to most of the aggrieved parties.
“I do not need your opinion on the matter.” The Viscount snapped. This was perhaps the longest conversation they had had, and for some reason, Simon could see himself stepping back into the Bridgerton house after all. Especially now because Miss Sharma was his charge and he would ensure that she got her due.
“But you will have it, Bridgerton. Miss Sharma is under my protection, and whatever it is that you said to offend her, you will correct it.” There was a surprise and a layer of curiosity in the Viscount's eyes before he stiffened again.
“Is she your family?” Given the look on Bridgerton's face, they both knew he sounded ridiculous. His attempts to know more about her would become more fervent and pathetic quite soon.
“She is Lady Danbury's guest. And because I am her godson, she is currently my responsibility and I do not take kindly to any distress caused to her.” It was poetic, how the tables had turned, and if anything, Simon felt like a brother demanding satisfaction for his sister. “I also suspect that there is more to your acquaintance than let on, given there was talk of horsemanship and you are not the kind to ride straight into a ballroom. Whatever it is, I would suggest you find her, seek a proper introduction, and do her right.”
Feeling the momentary victory, Simon marched back into the hall. Over the few years, he had started segregating his feelings into layers, according to importance, it helped with reactions and it most definitely helped when he and Daphne had their moments of disagreements. Currently, the cream was gratification. To school the same insipid man who had so frequently bungled his affairs last season. Simon knew he was a flawed man to think this way, but the turning of tables felt good.
If he had known even a little bit of Anthony from all these years, he knew that the man would come flying back. Like a moth drawn to a flame, the fierce contempt in Miss Sharma's words would enchant him into engaging in a more spirited fight, just so he could test how far his luck ran before he was singled and destroyed.
He returned to Daphne, who was deep in conversation with Lady Mary and a few other Ladies of the ton when he spied Bridgerton storm back into the hall, his trademark rushed movements carrying him to his brother, who he cuffed from around the neck, dragging him along. Their destination wasn't too difficult to predict, he was certain he would head towards his mother, who was conversing with his godmother.
Smirking, Simon walked up towards that crowd, coming to stand close to Benedict as his godmother beckoned Miss Edwina forward. He could see the alarm on Miss Sharma's face before she schooled it into an unbothered neutral, not letting this insipid man drive her astray.
“May I introduce Miss Sharma and Miss Kate Sharma.” There was a glint in Bridgerton's eye when he caught Edwina whispering out a hushed “Kate!” when she mentioned wanting to leave because it was far too late.
“There's only one set remaining.” Simon intervened. “You should stay, they are usually the most anticipated ones, with surprise fireworks and such.”
“Given this is Lady Danbury's event, you have to expect something magnificent,” Bridgerton added, twisting his words to set the stage for whatever he intended to try. Simon noticed that his eyes had never once wavered from Miss Sharma's, and the clench in her jaw meant she wasn't quite amenable to it. A few moments back he had demanded Anthony apologise but if it bothered Miss Sharma to this degree, he would never impose that upon the Lady.
“Benedict.” He started, engaging in a well-intended stare-off with the Viscount, who was just about to ask Miss Sharma to give him the honor of a dance. “Perhaps you should escort Miss Sharma to the floor. She shares your interest in a good piece of art.”
Bridgerton glowered at him, but Miss Sharma flashed him a grateful look, all while his godmother and mother-in-law looked at him with a contemplative look. He regretted having put poor Benedict in a spot, but he recovered fairly well, escorting Miss Sharma to the floor. Simon found himself joining them for the quadrille, the diamond on his arm.
Bridgerton, to his credit, had some tricks up his sleeve. He found Daphne and almost pulled her away from her group to join the queue next to Benedict and Miss Sharma. Only, in his haste, he chose the wrong side, which meant that when the partners would exchange, he would have Miss Goring and not Miss Sharma.
This was vastly entertaining.
“He is your friend. The Viscount.” Miss Sharma said the moment she spun into his arms, not as a question but as a statement. She spun back to Benedict, but even as Simon danced distractedly with Edwina, his efforts mostly a statement to all the bachelors who would be attempting to woo her from the day after, he spied on how Miss Sharma's eyes lingered on Bridgerton's.
“Something like that.” He said when she returned to his side, spying the way her eyes flickered to the side, snapping back and blinking when she found him already looking at her. “He used to be, at least.”
Miss Sharma gave him an odd look, before spinning back toward Ben. In tandem, Bridgerton found himself taking Daphne in his arms, diagonally opposite to her. If the arrangements were to shake up just a little, the right people would have the right partners.
His wife seemed to catch on, just as Miss Sharma decidedly looked away and her brother chased her eyes for another second of indulgence.
As if the two of them had found a way to engage in a dance while having different partners. One would look at the other whenever there was a spin, bodies aligned as if trying to catch each other. She would wince and look away each time he was positioned so he could look at her, and Bridgerton, that cad, he was not even bothering to blink.
Simon spied him and Daphne conversing, and he could feel the Viscount tense and snap back at his sister, who in turn snipped back with equal vigor, rolling her eyes and changing partners again. Of all the things that were going on, Miss Sharma's reaction was most illuminating.
When Bridgerton would exchange partners, she would find herself looking. Bridgerton almost ended up turning the wrong side, towards Miss Sharma instead of the other lady, and she nearly reached out. Their gloves touched, and she pulled back as if scaled.
Shaking his head, Simon gestured to Daphne.
Did you see that?
I did! I did not see that coming!
He smirked. This is fun.
His wife managed to glare at him while going around in a circle, and even that was so endearing he felt his chest soar. You will not make this deliberately harder for him.
Only a little bit.
It was crazy, how well they could communicate. Without words, without touches. Just by certain looks.
Judging by the fervent look that Bridgerton had in his eyes, Simon knew he had to be careful and ensure these two were kept at a safe distance. He couldn't have the elder Miss Sharma compromised and stranded.
He spied the Viscount reaching for her instead of his other partner, once again, their gazes so in sync with one another that Simon had to scoff. Deciding to act, Simon broke the queue, cleanly transferring Edwina to a confused and already frazzled Benedict while he swept up his wife in his arms, leaving the Viscount and his godmother's guest to finally have it out, within the limits of propriety.
They both looked disoriented by the sudden change, not having accounted for the magnetism to pull them into each other's arms. After a moment Bridgerton realized it was his scheme all along and another glower was directed at Simon, which he responded to with a shrug and a well-meaning look as if urging him to get on with it.
The surprises came in the form of lights and fireworks cascading all along the dance floor, as the couples pulled into each other.
Simon was in the perfect position to hear everything, and while he wasn't the sort of man to invest himself so deeply in a friend's affair, this was simply too engaging to let go of.
“Miss Sharma.”
“Lord Bridgerton.” She quipped back. If there was anyone who could stand neck to neck with Anthony Bridgerton, it would be her.
“You must allow me to explain myself, and to address any miscommunication before you resent me.”
“I do not resent you, My Lord. A well-off gentleman with questionable values is hardly my concern. You do not need to address anything.”
“Must you question my values? You do not even know me.”
She was spun away and Bridgerton nearly growled.
“I know enough. You are presumptuous and consider yourself a blessing to any person you impose your company on.”
He bristled, before glaring back as she spun into him.
“And you consider yourself omniscient, understanding it all, despite having drawn the worst conclusions from a conversation not meant for your ears.”
“it said enough about you. If you say any differently I would know it is not genuine.”
“So you claim to have never resorted to agreeing simply to get away from certain people? Certain conversations? Or are you such an expert in the art of conversation?”
Damn the man for being logical. Simon was certain Miss Sharma was cursing him out as well.
The final notes dropped in and their half hour was over. All of them dispersed, a quadrille converted to a curious group of six which left many ball goers displeased but Simon couldn't care. Everyone save for Benedict seemed content, and he watched Miss Sharma press her lips to a thin line before curtseying, and Bridgerton offered her a bow, before taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her fingers, eyes never wavering from hers. “Miss Sharma.”
She swallowed, and when the Viscount turned, the victory was written all over his smug face.
A similar sort of victory remained in the man's face as he marched along the viewing area of the Royal Ascot, looking quite like a proud peacock with an irritated Miss Sharma on his arm.
There was a line of suitors terrible enough outside the Danbury household when Simon had arrived to escort the ladies, only to find that Anthony Bridgerton had beaten him to it. Not only had he managed to cut the line by ensuring that he wasn't there for Edwina but for Miss Sharma, making the excuse of continuing a most revetting conversation, he had also flippantly told him to return to his wife and son and perhaps, escort them if so needed.
The Viscount had taken note of his meddling and had responded with some sort of a battle call. And if that was how they were going to go about this season, Simon was more than happy to indulge him.
The staring games continued all through the greetings around Ascot. Taking heed to Anthony's recommendations, Simon had brought Daphne along, who was now happily yapping next to Miss Sharma, the two of them largely ignoring the Viscount.
Only when Benedict brought the other Bridgertons and a storm of chestnut-haired people came at him, Simon found himself momentarily distracted from his newest endeavor, of troubling Anthony Bridgerton till he was blue in the face.
His wife was now engaged in a most revetting conversation with the youngest of the Bridgerton lot, and Bridgerton and Miss Sharma were again engaged in the most intense, consuming conversation, the sort where all of the noise dimmed out, despite being in one of the most crowded venues of the day.
Simon found himself stepping closer.
Good Lord, they were arguing about horses.
He had known Miss Sharma to be intelligent, but her observations were truly noteworthy. He now knew why she felt so convinced of her interpretations of the Viscount, and Simon decided to torment his friend for another few episodes before he would recommend the man to the lady.
“No matter what you do, My Lord, you will not receive my permission to court my sister. She desires a love match and she is far too soft-hearted to survive the sort of marriage you would offer. I suggest you divert your efforts and time elsewhere.”
Shock colored all of his old friend's features, immediately replaced by anger.
“Where on earth did you get the idea that I would try to woo your sister?”
“She is the diamond.” Miss Sharma snapped, all ruffled feathers and uncomfortably tight expressions. “She checks off every item in your most abhorrent list. It is only imperative for you to try and court her.”
Anthony scowled, while Simon shook his head. Perhaps there was a fault to Miss Sharma's observation skills, or perhaps Bridgerton had done something so severely stupid that she chose to be blind when it came to him.
“And the conversation on the terrace was the last time you deemed me an honest man? Did you even hear what I said after? What about all that I said this morning?”
“You say a lot of things, my Lord. I can only remember so much.”
Anthony gaped and then caught his eye in the distance. Surely, Simon must have not concealed his expression well, a wonder, because from the distance, Bridgerton, and his highly expressive features were like “Do you even hear her?”
He nodded, shaking his head after. A tragedy. Whether Miss Sharma was truly resolved with being a spinster, or if she simply hated Bridgerton, was a question yet to be answered.
Thomas Dorset was the perfect candidate to get that truth out of her.
Hasty greetings aside, he pulled the man along with him, repositioning the group so now he and Daphne were pressed far too close together for propriety, Edwina and Lumley next to him and Miss Sharma sausages between a very charmed doctor and a highly aggravated Viscount.
“Why would you do that?” His wife asked, glaring at him.
“Because he deserves to sweat.”
“You cannot continue with this, he is my brother.”
“And he was a boar for all of last season.”
His wife's eye softened. “Do you ever plan to speak to him? Properly? You were the best of friends.”
He sobered, looking down. “I wish to. But before that, he needs to find common ground and have a conversation with a certain miss, who, coincidentally, is under my protection. Why can't a man help out his friend and exact revenge on his brother-in-law at once?”
His wife laughed before pressing a kiss to his cheek. The world went quiet.
It erupted soon after, in the form of cheers and screaming and jumping, followed by whistles. The whistles were what ended Bridgerton, and Simon had to stand guard behind Miss Sharma lest the frazzled, crazed guy recreate some of the debauchery from their youth.
His conclusions were simple. Neither did Miss Sharma truly wish to be a spinster, nor did she hate Bridgerton. She just needed wooing, and perhaps better prospects for a life with him.
Simon later got a detailed letter from his godmother, an unreasonably amusing account of how the Viscount had purchased the horse he had bet on, Nectar, wrapped him in a big red bow, and presented him to Miss Sharma. Words like 'Trojan horse' and 'common ground to reestablish our acquaintance' were apparently thrown out, with Miss Edwina cheering on the couple. They had conversed while Lady Danbury acted as a chaperone, and it was most astounding, how mule-headed both were.
The next day, Anthony Bridgerton stormed into the soiree that he wasn't even invited to with nary a care of the world. Simon and Daphne were conversing with Miss Sharma- Kate, as she had allowed them to call her when he marched up to them. “Sister.” “Miss Sharma.”
Not acknowledging a Duke led to serious social consequences, but when had Bridgerton cared? The man was currently peacocking around an event he wasn't even invited to, with no tricks to show.
With the last display of the evening, the young ladies were about to leave, when Simon intervened.
“We have one last reading. My brother-in-law, Viscount Bridgerton has a few words to say.”
If Bridgerton's glares could have killed, Simon would have been dead for over a year. But he was here, married to his sister and a father, and now a certified obstacle to whatever nonsense the man was trying to wade along.
The rather disgruntled man made his way up to the stage, and directly in front sat Edwina, Miss Goring, and a few other girls. Edwina simply turned to look at Kate, giving her a cheeky smile, while her sister blushed and tried to cover it with a straight face. In the background, Violet, Lady Mary, and Agatha hovered anxiously.
To his credit, Bridgerton pulled out a note. What in heaven and hell and everything in between? While he and Daphne shared equal incredulous looks, he began.
What is it, to admire a woman?
Very good Bridgerton, a horse would have said it more ardently.
To admire her beauty, honor her being…
They sounded mechanical to even his ears, and if he knew Bridgerton was to make such a fool of himself, he would have dragged him to a poetry reading years back, when he was allowed to laugh as much as he wanted.
Bridgerton turned himself entirely to Kate, and when Simon caught the look in her eye, he understood why he stopped. The poor piece of writing was tossed into the fire and what followed was an intense eye contact before his brother-in-law began speaking again, words that suited him. To his horror, they sounded much like a promise and a lifelong vow, with action and duty taking the centerpiece of it. Was this man proposing? Or was he going to, soon after?
Kate was completely enraptured by the end of it, and several young misses were gasping and sighing. His wife was near tears and he could only groan and pull her to himself.
“He is so profound.” She sobbed, curling into Simon's side. And Simon, well, he must be going to hell because he could only imagine the roaring laughter in the halls of Oxford if someone emphasized a marriage based on action. Given his brother-in-law's rakish tendencies, he knew the cad would get that bit right.
Simon found Kate after some time, who had finally returned after a rather dramatic exit where she all but scurried away from the room.
“If you want me to kick him out, I will.” He stated, as a greeting. Perhaps it would lead to another fistcuff in the hallway. Good. Simon had been training.
“That is not necessary.” She shook her head. Was she crying?
Perhaps he should have let Daphne handle this.
“He is infuriating.” She added.
He knew this dance long enough to know that she did not mean it.
“He is persistent. But if you truly do not want him then tell him, he will honor your needs.”
“You speak highly of him.”
“He is a good man.”
“And yet you do not address each other in the same room. Why?”
Simon nodded. “It was complicated.." When she did not look convinced with a threadbare asnwer, he continued. It was easy to tell her because knew Miss Sharma wouldn't judge him and his mistakes.
"A year back, my marriage wasn't as happy and fulfilled as it is today. Before that, I had refused to marry my wife and had resorted myself to a life of loneliness. Bridgerton had told me not to court his sister, and I did the exact opposite. When circumstances changed, he had to point a gun towards me at dawn to get me to marry her.” He noticed how she stiffened at that, before continuing. “He and I knew too much of each other's lives, and that knowledge became a weapon harsher than a sword or gun. It fractured something and now I am not strong enough to mend things with him. I can lead him into a merry dance though, if that is what you want.”
Kate laughed and said that she was strong enough to handle him and spin him about if he so needed.
Later that evening, he and Daphne had sneaked out for a little bit of air in the gardens, and they were in the middle of robbing it from each others' lungs when the whispers of a heated argument wafted up to them.
“Must you be so obstinate?”
“Do all the people of London propose marriage while insulting a lady, or is it just another unique attribute of yours?”
“It is not an insult.” Bridgerton snapped back. “It is the truth. You were perfectly amenable to speaking with me on horseback, could you at least grant me the grace of a proper few conversations?”
“And where exactly would the conversation lead to? Duties? A marriage built around the sole need to beget heirs?” Kate asked, and from the rustling of leaves along his godmother's driveway, they could be nearing each other, and Simon might just have to burst out from the back anytime soon.
Bridgerton faltered. “I could court you.”
“You would distract me. And then, over time, you would realize that I do not fit your criteria for a suitable viscountess, and would conveniently withdraw your courtship and ride away to a proper miss. I cannot spend my days gallivanting with you when I need to be there for my sister.”
Both Simon and Daphne groaned. By the rushed movements, he knew Bridgerton was storming off. He then watched Kate disappear, and then Daphne removed herself from him to go console her brother.
He held her back. “Let them handle it.”
“I am sorry to say, Simon, but Miss Sharma is being harsh. She should give him a chance to at least court her and let his feelings be known.”
“Your brother told her he needs a wife of good stock to bear his children all while enduring a loveless marriage. She heard him agree to the suggestion that after such a lady is wed, bed, and bred, he would move on to more pleasurable pursuits.” Daphne paled as he recounted that conversation he had had with Miss Sharma, where she had laid out her misgivings for Bridgerton.
“A marriage based on duty and action might be profitable for a young miss, but for a lady who has already made plans to be alone? Only true companionship could sway her. Love and respect are what Mis Sharma needs if she is to marry. Marriage is a lifelong commitment, and to take such a vow from someone only to be left stranded again, is cruel, Daphne. If she were my sister I would not want her near such a man.”
Then his wife was again sobbing, all resolved to make her brother see sense.
Later that day, there was the loudest argument Bridgerton house had seen in years, with Daphne questioning Anthony's stance on love and his resentment toward them all due to the sacrifices he had made, which resulted in his retaliation that his efforts for the family were what kept them afloat through the testiest of times, and he would rather not have her comment on his ideas and state of mind. Not when he had spent his youth shielding her, and all of them, away from such troubles.
Simon watched his wife curse and spit fire at the walls and cry miserably till he was forced to march to Whites to try and find the man, but he was nowhere to be seen.
The next day was the opening of an art gallery, and the same man had brought flowers for all Sharma women and Lady Danbury. Edwina was being escorted by some Lord Ashton, and judging by the grimace on her face, she could hardly stand him. Before Simon could intervene, Bridgerton swooped in and whisked her away for a turn, and it turned out he did a good job at brightening up the young girl. He did have four young sisters, surely he would be good at the job.
Behind a statue of a pair of lovers embracing, he found his old friend and his new friend, deep in conversation. Something was softer between the two of them, and when he ventured closer, he heard something.
“If I were to hazard a guess you simply enjoy the sight of me on horseback.” Bridgerton was saying, and Simon rolled his eyes. He did not want to find out about these rides. He only hoped Kate's virtue was intact by the end of it.
“If I enjoyed such a sight I would be trailing behind, my Lord, but I clearly remember winning every single one of our races.”
“Only because you start the races and end them on your own accord, most times with a most fashionably dangerous stunt.”
“You are simply terrified to make a jump.” Kate scoffed
“I am not, and I am right. It is dangerous.”
“Your horsemanship is simply not at par with mine, my Lord.”
“Is that so?” This time, it was too soft, too close, and then Bridgerton was taking her hand in his, pulling her closer.
Simon made his entrance.
“This place is not sequestered enough for whatever you two are discussing. Bridgerton, I would suggest you unhand Kate at once and step back.”
“You address her as—?” He thundered but dropped her hand, duly situating himself back, all while Kate looked everywhere else.
“Perhaps you would want me to relocate this conversation to the gardens? More sequestered, as some would say?”
Simon was not here for this horseshit. “Listen here Bridgerton, say what you have to say about me but you will not dishonour Miss Sharma. That means keeping your distance and keeping away from unchaperoned conversations. I should not hear about another meeting on horseback.”
Bridgerton's glare was murderous and possibly terrifying, but what rattled him was how similar the scowl on Miss Sharma's face was.
The Sharma family found themselves in Aubrey Hall, after all, three days before the hearts and flowers ball. Simon had been there for a week, as their only son-in-law, and while everyone was at different levels of energy, the ninth Viscount was busy sending correspondence to every lady in London.
“I have to find myself a wife. Isn't that what we had decided, at the start of the season?” He had brushed away any of Violet's concerns, and he barely spoke to Daphne, who in turn looked at each letter like she wished to toss them into a volcano.
The problem began when after the visit to the art gallery, Edwina decided that she was happy to get engaged to Lord Ashton, the first son of a Duke. Who she had not even liked. The present Duke had a nephew, Earl Radcliffe, who was looking for a more mature woman because of his inability to handle a conversation with any lady barely out of leading strings. He came recommended, and Kate Sharma was all over Whistledown for having found herself a very good suitor, and the last ball that they had attended, she was flocked by many men, including Lord Cho, who was the idiot that had said the exact words 'wed, bed and bred.'
He remembered how Daphne had scowled and passionately tried to remind Kate that she had options and that she should follow her heart. Kate had held her hand and told her with the saddest eyes that she held her plans for India closest to her heart, followed by anybody else.
“My brother is an idiot.” She had concluded, storming into their room in Aubrey Hall. “And he would not listen to me. She cares for him, Simon, have you seen them laugh together?”
He had. Far too many times. In that art gallery. In that ball where the moment her carriage had rolled up, Anthony had rushed past all footmen to help her down and she had ignored his hand, jumped down, and then grinned smugly at him. His insistence to claim her first dance and then his rage when she was swarmed by other gentlemen, post which he had stormed into Mondrich's, and sipped on the most ridiculously expensive drink. The man had crushed the Whistledown which called Kate and Lord Radcliffe a handsome but incredibly aloof pair.
“You must make him see sense!” His wife implored. The past four days had been tense. The Sharmas were supposed to arrive with the Hastings, but after Edwina's intended invited her to help plan out his latest ball, which was supposed to be yesterday evening, the Sharmas stayed back. Bridgerton did not take their absence too well, and with every report from the city, his mood got fouler and fouler, till he started writing to every family that had an eligible miss. The man was a nutcase, truly.
Last evening hosted the ball where Kate had apparently danced twice with Lord Radcliffe, if Whistledown was to be believed. And she widely was, so every corner had the whispers of another Sharma sister betrothal. Whispers of an impending proposal were everywhere but all Simon could see was that neither sister was happy.
He had resolved to find out more about it.
“I cannot make your brother see sense. Not when he is behaving like a mad bull in his jealousy. let Miss Sharma arrive, and we can hope that she knocks some sense into him.”
The Sharma's arrived and Simon sensed the same dance of longing and self-loathing between the two, whispers of heaven knows what communicated in the form of intent, pained stares. Beside him, his wife commented that if a pair had so many promises and questions held in their eyes, they ought to be locked together in matrimony so they could have their lives to figure it out.
“It is getting stifling,” Ben commented, just an hour later. “I wonder if Anthony was dropped on his head as a child.”
“He must have been.”
Simon watched Kate blend in perfectly in a game of Pall Mall, he watched Bridgerton make a fool of himself in his very own game. He then watched Anthony Bridgerton return from the wilderness, covered in mud, and he took the liberty to hold his stomach and laugh.
He found Edwina sometime before dinner, looking morose.
“Why must a newly engaged lady look so morose?” This was the perfect time to find out.
“I am not—” She started before tears filled her eyes. Beside her, Lady Mary placed a hand around her shoulder.
“What is it, Edwina? Is the man troubling you? Is he not in good faith?” Simon charged, ready to pull out guns and kill the man. The demanding satisfaction business was too dramatic for his tastes.
“He is a good man.” Edwina shook her head, finally looking at him with pained eyes, while Lady Mary explained.
“Edwina does not have a dowry.” And then she winced. “She does, but it is conditional. My parents, the Sheffields, agreed to give her a dowry only if she marries a man of nobility. I did not know, and neither did Edwina. It was Kate who wrote to them. The same child they refused to accept as their own. The same child who they humiliated at every turn.”
Simon felt something sink in his stomach.
“Lady Danbury told me of the dowry, and I knew what I had to do," Edwina whispered. "Kate has done more than enough to ensure our survival, it is now my turn to contribute to it. So when Lord Ashton proposed, I agreed. I satisfy the conditions and with Earl Radcliffe courting Kate, she would not have to go back to India. I might not live a fairytale for my love story, but at least I will not lose my sister.”
Simon did not know if he was feeling anger or grief for the two sisters and their mother, but if he could locate a person to point fingers at, he would call them out. Unfortunately, how was one to call out circumstances?
Edwina wiped her tears, stiffening when she looked up. He followed her line of sight, groaning when Anthony Bridgerton stood there, fists clenched, jaw held so tight all of his teeth could shatter.
He relayed the happenings to Daphne, who nearly screamed in frustration before stomping over to her brother and flinging a bouquet of dried tulips at him.
“Would you let the Sharmas resort to such a fate?”
All of these Bridgertons and their late-night arguments. There was screaming and Anthony Bridgerton was not the one doing it, and only then Simon knew the water was reaching a dangerous level.
It stormed that night, and only that saved the family from his wife's screechy begging of her brother to reconsider his life choices and to let go of his stubbornness. Later, a maid informed him that she found Lord Bridgerton and Miss Sharma comfortably asleep in each other's embrace on the library floor, fully clothed and with a book of poetry tossed behind them.
Simon knew that the confrontation with his old friend would come sooner than later.
The next day was fairly chaotic, with all the Bridgetons hounding Kate. Eloise involved her in a long discussion about women's rights, but upon suddenly barrelling to a conclusion that she might influence Kate into returning to her homeland, she turned the script around, emphasizing that a life based on mutual affection was equally important. It sounded fabricated and even Kate had to wince before Francesca was pulling her away to see to the pianoforte.
Daphne involved Kate in ball planning while Violet introduced her to the staff. Gregory and Hyacinth complained to her all about their governesses and instructors. Later that evening, all of the family ended up in the village, to buy ribbons and decorations and all other inane things that Eloise liked to complain about.
They were in yet another jewelry shop, owned by one Mister Brookes, when Kate, who was simply hanging behind with Hyacinth, gravitated towards the counter. He did not know what she was seeing, but Bridgerton was making his way over to her, his eyes set on getting it for her.
A sharp jab in the ribs and Simon looked incredulously at his wife. “See that.”
“I was already seeing it.” He winced. At this point, he was the omniscient entity, always hovering around the two of them.
Daphne only pulled him to the side, and he was confronted by the sight of the softest expression on Bridgerton's face, as though he were melting. He sighed, shaking his head and looking away from what was certainly an intimate moment.
“She is crying.” And with that, Daphne pulled him along, using him as a means to eavesdrop.
He gathered that they were very similar to her mother's bangles. Or perhaps the same piece, because she had sold them to an English trader who was visiting Bombay, when their family situation was dire.
At Bridgerton's request, Mister Brooks pulled out the badge, handing it to Kate and helping her wear it.
Simon saw Bridgerton transform into a wounded mess at her tears and then he watched him raise his hand to wipe the affronting teardrop with a neatness he was yet to achieve with Daphne. To no spectator's surprise, Kate leaned into his touch, and so did Bridgerton, before his eyes flickered to them and he seized up, hastily retracting.
“My apologies.” He whispered to Simon.
Kate jumped up too, realizing where they were, before pulling back and flicking away the other tear. Her collected, limited crying was another thing to ponder about. How many times did she have to repress her tears before it became second nature to flick them away and move on?
She went about removing the bangles, but both Daphne and Anthony jumped forward, stopping her. “No!” and “Please don't.”
He immediately knew it was not just about the bangles, but he wasn't going to interfere any more than needed.
“But I have to,” Kate added miserably. The rest of the party, along with Benedict and Colin, were at the toy shop, inspecting fake armor.
With steeled determination, she tried to pull them off, but Bridgerton was faster. He held the bangles still over her skin, his hand shaking slightly from god knows what.
“Allow me to buy them for you.”
“No.” Kate said with so much finality no one could argue. “I gave them away, and that is my truth.” With that, she raised her other hand, ungloved and unguarded, softly removing Bridgerton's hand from hers before returning the bangle. She turned and left, and before they could follow, Simon turned to look at his old friend, who looked completely at war with himself. Simon also noticed him flex his hand, where she had touched him, but this wasn't the time or place to discuss that.
The next day, the rest of the ton descended. It was hardly surprising that neither the Ashtons nor the Radcliffe's were invited. In the noise and chatter, no one noticed their absence. Especially not the women they were meant to charm.
Miss Sharma ended up in the hunt with them, all while Daphne and Violet schemed to have Edwina meet all the kinds of eligible gentlemen they knew she would like. They did not want her to marry Lord Ashton, because that somehow sounded like a seal to Miss Sharma's fate, and Kate marrying anyone but Lord Bridgerton was now an unheard concept to the family.
He watched them bicker and nearly shot Bridgerton through the chest when half an hour later, they emerged from a secluded clearing, all alone, with clothes far too ruffled for his peace of mind.
“It is not what you think.” Bridgerton snapped as they went to seek cover. He marched over to Kate, offering her his jacket and ensuring she was completely covered up before helping the trembling maid.
Simon saught the grumbling man under the tree. “What is it then, pray tell?”
“You.” A finger was pointed at him. “You do not need to go about issuing warnings. You are not her brother or her guardian.”
“You should not take the lack of male members in her family as a lack of protection,” Simon whispered, trying to ensure that no other member of the party heard them.
“And what a splendid job you have done. One sister shackled to a marriage of convenience and another's fate rested in the hands of a flighty gentleman? Did you even make inquiries about the Ashtons? Try to know of their motivations?”
“I would have if you did not uninvite them from your blasted ball.”
Bridgerton looked ready to resume the duel from last year. Simon remained unfrazzoled.
“And isn't that exactly what you proposed to her, after the soiree? A marriage based on convenience and duty? Do you take objection to your set standards? It is not like you offered the lady your feelings, despite knowing that it was her only requirement.”
This time, his brother-in-law tossed the gun and lunged at him barehanded, grabbing his collar. “Do not dare speak to me of what I feel.”
“How dare anyone try to discern Anthony Bridgerton's feelings. How dare anyone try to push him in the right direction? You could never remove yourself from your path of self-destruction, not even for Kate. And now you pull her into a life of longing.”
The punch hurt. Then he raised his fists and swung back, hoping it hurt just as much.
That was an incredible evening. Daphne handed them both bags filled with crushed ice all while she menacingly held the mortar and grinder in her hands, as if contemplating crushing their heads.
“You.” She turned to him, and Simon groaned. “I told you to talk sense into him, not punch him a night before his last chance to woo the lady.” Beside him, Bridgerton mumbled something about Kate finding him pleasant-looking no matter what state he was in.
“And you.” She rounded at her brother. “You either tell Miss Sharma what you feel, or you let the sisters decide what is best for their life. Do not slink away with her to some wilderness and do not hold her hand in a jewelry shop all while looking at her like a man is supposed to look at his bride walking down the aisle. Either give her those bangles—I know you purchased them, and profess your love, or let her become Mrs Radcliffe so Miss Edwina can at least have her sister around.”
The rest of the night was quiet.
The Hearts and Flowers ball was wondrous, and the only time Simon looked away from his wife was when she jabbed him in the rib again, pointing him toward something.
Most of Bridgerton's jaw had healed, and yet Kate pointed it out for him, only stopping herself from caressing the slight bruising. He watched Anthony pull out the bangles from his pocket, he watched Kate almost burst into tears as he helped her put them on beside an ecstatic Edwina.
Soon after, the young miss was seen in the arms of Matthew Bagwell. Come morning, a letter would be sent to the Ashton estate, regrettably ending their engagement.
Simon was enjoying a waltz with his wife and of course, to trample on his peace, came the hushed musings of Kate and Anthony. At this point, he seriously contemplated locking them together in some room and then happening to chance upon them, that would surely do.
“Is that what you want? To return to India?”
“I do not know, my Lord. Edwina would find love eventually, and then who would need me?”
“Me.” Bridgerton answered with a lot of assuredness, the sort that would warrant him a handshake. Not many men could so assertively state their feelings.
“I need you, and I do not think I could stop if I tried.”
“To be your viscountess? To run your estate and give you heirs?”
“To be my wife. I have only recently allowed myself to embrace love, and now I find myself unable to survive the idea of a life without you. I want your morning rides and your evening teas, I want to dedicate every waking moment to loving you, and making myself worthy of your love.”
Kate gasped, pulling herself closer. “You do?”
“I love you. I have loved you from the moment we raced each other in that park. I have loved you at every dance, on every walk, every time we have been together and every time we have been apart. If I were a selfless man I would tell you that you do not have to accept it, embrace it, or even allow it, but I am selfish, and so I would still beg you to reconsider.”
The bangles jingled on Kate's wrists.
“I do not think that there is anything else to say, other than I love you too.”
And when Anthony Bridgerton had wished for a life that suited the two of them, an intensely private conversation that was done, quite like them, in the middle of a dance floor, he looked at Simon. There were no hard lines of anger or frustration. With his intention in his arms, his friend nodded at him, and he responded, that weight finally off of his chest.