Chapter Text
Day 1
Huffing out a frustrated sigh, Kate heaved off her blankets and threw her legs over the side of the bed. It was no use, after hours of fitfully tossing and turning under the covers she was no nearer to sleep than she’d been when she had first laid down hours prior. Rising from the mattress, Kate crept quietly to her wardrobe, searched for where the maids had unpacked and hung her riding attire and dressed as quickly as she could.
Convincing the stable hand to allow her to ride before dawn—with a standard saddle no less—was easier than Kate would have imagined. With only a few charming smiles, and without having to dip into her change purse, Kate was up on a horse and riding away from Danbury house before the birds began to sing their morning songs.
The crisp morning springtime air in London was strange in its unfamiliarity to be sure, but Kate could not deny the refreshing quality as it quickly cleared her head of the lingering lull of sleep. The brisk air also carried the scent of early blossoms and greenery which had swept out the smell of the sea—Kate was certain she could still taste it when she closed her eyes. Being back on land anywhere would have been a welcomed reprieve from six months at sea, but there was something about the tranquil English chill in the air that energized her.
It was so bracing that she coaxed her steed to canter faster through the woods until they reached an open clearing. With a quick look around the park, and satisfied that they were truly alone, Kate kicked the horse to a full gallop, revelling in the way the cold morning breeze whipped around her face to tickle at the back of her neck. She considered slowing down, she had already shaken the cobwebs out of her travel-weary mind when she heard a gentleman call out behind her, she rolled her eyes and did not slow her pace.
“Miss, are you in trouble?” he barked across the open field, his voice echoing through the trees.
While she understood it was strange to see a young lady riding astride and galloping at dawn—she knew such speeds were illegal in the park—but to assume she was a damsel in need of aid? It was offensive and in fact, it made Kate so angry on behalf of all English women that she dug her in heels once she heard him draw near and drove her steed even faster forward.
Looking back over her shoulder as she barrelled through the misty field, Kate saw the gentleman was still in pursuit, though he had hopelessly fallen behind and would certainly never catch up to her. Grinning and feeling a spark of triumph, she faced forward and eyed a fence covered in overgrown vines directly in her path.
“Careful now,” the gentleman called out uselessly. Rather than heed his warning, Kate swallowed the chuckle that had started to bubble up in her throat and settled low onto the horse's back in preparation to jump. Just as her horse poised to lunge over the fence she heard his voice again, “Woah there!”
As expected, they sailed effortlessly over the hurdle, and Kate did not turn back to face the gentleman interloper until she had steered her horse up a small hill. Once she had gained the higher ground, her heart beating giddily in her chest, she turned to see his expression.
Even the most genteel of men, when faced with a woman besting them at sport or in any employment for that matter, would become red in the face or bluster and scoff as if a lady’s prowess threatened their very existence. This mystery rider, however, seemed to be quite different indeed, as he looked… pleased. The moment their eyes met, Kate felt her heart—which had been slowing steadily after the successful jump—speed back up to beat a staccato rhythm against her breast.
Gripping the reins tighter, Kate heard her riding gloves squeak against the leather reins as the gentleman dipped his head in deference, a fervid look in his eyes. Holding his gaze, Kate allowed her mouth to split into a small pleased smile as she tipped her chin up at him.
At that same moment, the sun peeked over the horizon, shining brightly in the corner of Kate’s eye and she blinked.
Day 912
The first thing Anthony noted upon waking was that he was not alone in bed.
Considering that he’d visited his preferred brothel just the day prior—and stayed long enough for his evening bed partner to fall asleep—he wondered if he’d foolishly allowed himself to drift off on his subsequent visit. However, he couldn’t recall visiting the establishment again last night. Shifting his shoulders against the mattress, he felt the soft thread of the sheets slide against his skin, much unlike the lower-quality linens frequently used in brothels.
A sleep-softened sigh from beside him had his eyes flying open in alert. He had been correct, he was not alone, but he certainly wasn’t at a brothel. There was a woman in bed with him, his bed in fact, at Bridgerton house of all places. Nerves buzzing in his chest, Anthony stared at the back of the head of his bed partner and swallowed hard as he tried to piece together what must have been an alcohol-fuelled night of depravity, that or he’d fallen into a fugue state. Those could be the only explanations for the monumental lapse in judgment that was bringing a woman back to Bridgerton house. To his mother’s house of all places and not to his bachelor lodgings.
As his mind reeled, the lady turned in her sleep and rolled onto her side, blinking her eyes open a moment later. Anthony’s mouth popped open in shock as recognition dawned on him—it was the mystery rider he’d seen in the park that morning. For her part, the young miss seemed just as alarmed to see him as he was to see her, and with a piercing yelp, she jumped back from him and with a loud thump fell from the bed and onto the floor.
“Uh, miss, are you alright?” Anthony asked hesitantly, rising to his knees and leaning forward to peer over the edge of the mattress at her. Before he could catch a glimpse of her, however, she jumped to her feet and he reared back in alarm.
Face pulled into an almighty rage, the mystery lady pointed at him. “Who are you and how did you get into my chambers? What kind of villain are you?”
“Actually, I—,” Anthony started but the lady continued as if he had not spoken.
“You followed me home after that race this morning did you not? Then broke into our home and— and then,” she sputtered before looking down at her state of undress, her eyes widening as she took in her night shift. Crossing her arms across her breast, she looked back up to pierce him with a glare again. “What have you done to me?”
“Miss, I assure you I have not—,” he tried, lifting his hands to calm her, though, again, she continued as if he had remained silent.
“You must have attacked me with a blow to the head, that must be why I cannot remember,” she muttered, beginning to pace. Lifting a hand to her head, she patted her hair awkwardly as she seemingly searched for a sign of injury. Upon finding none, she stopped and turned back to him. “What did you do to get me here? Did you give me some sort of poison?”
“Poison?” Anthony asked incredulously with a laugh, which only served to enrage her further.
“You laugh after having abducted me and stolen my virtue!” she seethed, her brow creasing as her cheeks flushed with indignation. Her arms dropped and she fisted her hands at her side, nearly vibrating with her anger. If he had not been so confused and insulted, he may have found it amusing.
“I most certainly did not,” Anthony retorted, affronted by her accusation. He may be a rake but he was a gentleman after all.
“You must have, there is no other explanation for why you are in my chambers,” she spat.
“Look around you my lady, you are in my chambers,” Anthony answered with a false smile.
At long last, the lady closed her mouth with an audible click. With widened eyes, she looked around the room slowly, wrapping her arms around her body once again.
“Then you abducted me to your home?” she asked timidly with a fearful expression that leeched the last of his desire to be right.
Suddenly Anthony felt ashamed he had not done more to assure her that she had not been violated. For as confused as he was at the situation they had found themselves in, Anthony could acquiesce that a young lady had more to fear than he upon waking in a strange place with no recollection of how one arrived there.
“I assure you, I did not abduct you and I have not laid a hand upon you,” Anthony said, leaning back on his heels and feeling a flush creep up his chest as he suddenly recalled that he slept nude. Surreptitiously pulling the bedsheet around his waist tightly, Anthony hoped the nervous miss did not notice his bare chest as he suspected she may begin throwing things from his bedside table, or at minimum scream and alert the entire house. “We are in my family home, where my mother and several of my younger siblings are in residence. If you listen closely, I am sure you will be able to hear some of them arguing.”
They stared at one another for a quiet moment and as predicted, not a minute later, Hyacinth’s voice rang clear through the house, screeching about Gregory stealing her jacks. Despite the circumstances, Anthony felt himself smile. Looking up at the lady, he noted she seemed to be fighting a smile of her own. It struck him then, as it had in the park, that this lady was unusually pretty. Uncommonly beautiful in fact, with her strong jaw, large, brown eyes, and soft mouth.
“I am Anthony,” he said, then realizing his error, cleared his throat and sat up straighter. “That is, Viscount Anthony Bridgerton.”
“Kate,” she mumbled back, holding his gaze. “Kate Sharma.”
“Pleasure to meet you, my lady,” he said, dipping his head down to her and as he did his eye caught on something shining in the early morning sun. Feeling the blood drain from his face as he stared at Kate’s left hand where it rested across her chest, Anthony quietly asked, “What is that?”
Following his gaze, Kate looked down at her hand, her eyes widening when she finally saw the small gold ring adoring her third finger. She gasped and jumped back, holding her hand far away from her body, as if she could put some distance between her and the offending jewellery.
“That is not mine,” she exclaimed, looking rapidly between the ring and Anthony.
Wiping a hand down his face, Anthony spotted a pair of breeches strewn on the ground beside the bed and shifted to pull them on under the covers before rising from the bed. Thrusting his hands in his hair he began to pace.
“It is my mothers,” he said curtly, not looking back at her even when a strangled choking noise sounded from across the room.
The implications of the piece she wore were too damning to consider and yet he must consider them. Anthony had gifted this strange woman a symbol of his parent's affectionate love match. While he had intended to gift the ring to his viscountess that season, he could not understand what could have motivated him to give it to this lady. Moreover, he was sure the ring had been stowed away at Aubrey Hall within the family safe.
From the little he knew of this Kate Sharma, she was the exact opposite of what he had been searching for in a wife, if only because he had found her captivating and unnervingly attractive upon their meeting. Even now, her body tense with nerves, she was a vision in the warm morning light, her rich, dark skin contrasting captivatingly against the stark white of her shift.
Miss Sharma was a far cry from the tepid and distant admiration he’d planned to find in his future bride. Coupled with the nature of their first meeting, the way she had galloped through the park as if only to defy his pursuit, no, she was not a lady he would have selected from his list of requirements.
“But—, how—, do you mean to say,” she sputtered. Anthony squeezed his eyes shut, stopping in front of the window to fix his hands to his hips and take in a steadying breath before he had to utter the words he was dreading. “Are we…,” she trailed off.
Turning around to face her, with his heart hammering in his chest, Anthony met her gaze directly and answered, “It would seem we are married.”
He may have expected a fainting spell from any other young lady, as debutants were fond of losing consciousness at the drop of a hat, but this young miss—Miss Kate Sharma, or rather, his wife—did not seem overly fond of doing what was expected and burst out laughing.
Later, he would allow himself the indulgence of appreciating how her face transformed in laughter, how each hard angle softened and how her warm, feminine laugh seemed at odds with the otherwise no-nonsense exterior he’d experienced from her thus far. However, he could not waste time on such distractions, pinching the bridge of his nose, Anthony ground his teeth together as he waited for her laughter to abate.
“We cannot be married,” Kate chuckled as her laughter trailed off, levelling him with a condescending smile that made something in his stomach shift in response—a feeling he patently ignored. “You are mistaken, my lord.”
“Oh?” Anthony asked sarcastically, resting his hands on his hips again. “Then do enlighten me on what other scenario would result in you wearing my mother's betrothal ring after we’ve awakened in bed together?”
He tucked his left hand behind his back, it did not feel helpful to point out that he too was wearing a wedding ring, as his father had done. The evidence that he had utterly lost his mind and married for love was mounting by the minute. He wanted to join Kate, shouting and denying the clear truth of their situation, but he knew one of them must remain pragmatic despite the absurdity of their circumstances.
“I beg your pardon, my lord,” Kate snapped, narrowing her eyes at him. “While our current circumstances are abnormal and confusing, to say the least, it does not give you an excuse to use such vulgarities with me.”
“Vulgarities?” Anthony balked, mouth agape. “We are married, you insufferable woman!”
“And I say we are not,” Kate pronounced, before crossing her arms and sitting back on the bed. Her eyes darted down to the mattress, and seeming to remember herself, she jumped back to her feet, a haughty expression fixed in place on her face.
“Get dressed,” Anthony grumbled, shaking his head as he moved to his dressing room. “I’ll prove it to you since you seemed determined to not believe me.”
“Fine, but I will not dress with you here,” she sniffed.
“I am already leaving,” Anthony shouted, turning around and throwing his hands up in the air. Kate narrowed her eyes at him and he huffed out a frustrated breath before turning on his heel and stalking out of the room.
Half an hour later they met in the hallway outside Anthony’s chambers and made their way down the stairs, or rather Kate stomped down the stairs and Anthony slowly followed in her wake. He had offered her his arm, but she’d only wrinkled her nose at him in response and strode away on her own. Only once they reached the landing, and she seemingly realized she had no knowledge of where they were headed, did she stop and wait for him.
Rolling his eyes behind her back, Anthony stepped forward and offered his arm again to her. Kate hesitated again and looked up at him, though with less malice in her gaze.
“Come meet my family and you can determine for yourself whether I am lying to you or not,” he said quietly, lest they be overheard by any wandering staff.
Finally, with a stiff nod, she lifted her hand and rested it in the crook of his elbow. As they moved toward the drawing room, Anthony tried to quell the growing buzzing in his chest with a frown.
“What is it,” Kate whispered, tugging gently on his arm. Anthony turned to face her, only to feel the buzzing increase uncomfortably as he took in the worried expression on her face. Clearing his throat, he quickly looked away and shook his head.
“It is nothing,” he grunted. “My family should be taking tea together just ahead.”
Turning the final corner, they entered the bright drawing room to find it significantly less full than he’d anticipated. Looking around the room, he saw only his mother and two youngest siblings.
“Where is everyone,” he asked loudly, looking around the room for the rest of his absent family.
“Good morning to you too, dearest,” his mother replied, setting down her embroidery to smile warmly at Anthony and the stranger on his arm.
“Good morning,” he grumbled.
“And good morning, Kate dear,” she nodded to Kate warmly, and Anthony could see, without even turning to look, that his wife was shocked to be recognized. Feeling a pressing curiosity to watch her expressions, Anthony turned his head enough so that her face was visible and as covertly as possible made a study of her profile. “Benedict is at the academy and Eloise is with her tutors, of course,” his mother finished.
Suddenly Kate turned to face him, a frown fixed on her brow, and she nudged him to face forward. Somehow he had turned his entire body enough to completely face her as his mother spoke. Straightening his shoulders, he shook his head and pointedly ignored his mother's bemused expression.
“What of Francesca? Colin?” he croaked out after a few silent moments.
His mother tilted her head, looking more confused than she ought to be, considering two of her children were missing so early in the morning. “Francesca is in France, as you know, and Colin is at home,” she answered with a frown.
“Yes, so where is he?” Anthony asked shortly.
“At home dearest,” she replied again with a confused smile.
“I see I need to clarify, though I cannot understand why,” Anthony grumbled, and with great restraint kept from rolling his eyes at this needlessly difficult conversation. “Which room is Colin currently occupying so I may find him?”
“Colin is at his home, in Bloomsbury, Anthony. He is not here,” his mother answered insistently as if he were being purposefully obtuse.
“Bloomsbury?” Anthony reared back with a frown. “Why would he live in Bloomsbury?”
“Well, that I could not tell you,” his mother answered, brushing her skirts across her lap absently. “When he first moved in, I tried to dissuade him as you may remember, but he would not be swayed. Anyhow, I believe Penelope enjoys that part of town.”
“Penelope?” he prodded, feeling infinitely more confused as he received each new piece of information.
“Yes, Penelope,” she replied with a huff, looking up at Anthony exasperated. “You do recall his wife do you not?”
“His what?” Anthony barked, taking a step forward, to what end he was not sure.
A tug on his hand stopped him from shouting, pacing, or tearing out his hair. Looking down at his hand, he saw Kate gripping his fingers tightly and her face warned him not to continue speaking. With a huffed breath he took a step back.
“What is your mother’s name,” she whispered, leaning her body into his.
“Violet,” he whispered back, blinking at her, suddenly feeling quite aware of just how close she was, so close he could smell her hair.
“Ah you two, still whispering like newlyweds,” his mother sighed happily. “I remember the days when your father and I were like that.”
“You were always like that,” Anthony grumbled with a grimace, turning away from Kate to lower himself indelicately in a settee across from his mother.
“Violet, would you mind if I looked at today’s newspaper?” Kate asked softly, stepping towards his mother, the hand with his mother's betrothal ring pointing towards the side table.
“Certainly dearest,” she smiled up at Kate warmly, picking up the paper and handing it to Kate quickly.
She’d only had the newspaper in her hand a moment before Kate turned to Anthony with wide eyes. “Darling, would you take a look at this,” she smiled with clenched teeth.
He leaned over to see what she pointed at, the day's date. More specifically, the year. 1816. No, it couldn’t be. It had been 1814 just that morning, it could not be a whole two years later. He must have found himself in an elaborately detailed bad dream. Head spinning, Anthony looked up to see Kate appeared to be just as distressed by this information as he was.
A hoarse, choked sound escaped his throat and he tugged at his necktie, suddenly feeling like it was restricting his ability to breathe. His mind raced as he tried to orient himself and the weight of the confirmation that they were indeed married settled heavily on his chest. Anthony had been flippant with Kate earlier when he’d spotted the ring on her finger, but the knowledge that he’d awakened having missed two entire years of his life was overwhelming, to say the least. Scrubbing his hands over his face he glanced at Kate and saw she had not moved in her shock. It seemed he would need to do the heavy lifting here.
“Mother,” Anthony croaked before clearing his throat. “Mother, what date was our wedding?”
“Anthony!” his mother admonished, though with a soft humour he was unaccustomed to. Standing, she walked over to Kate and affectionately gripped her hands. “You mustn’t worry too much about him forgetting the date, Kate dear, the surgeon did warn that he may have trouble remembering some of the details in the months after his accident.”
“Yes,” Kate sputtered with a tight smile. “Yes, I do recall him saying that. Maybe we should talk about our courtship and wedding again, to help remind him of those details.” Shooting Anthony a quick look, he sat up sharply and nodded, gesturing for Kate to sit down beside him. It spoke to the severity of how distressing the news was that they were indeed married, having missed two years of time, that Kate sat down without a fuss.
“Indeed,” he exclaimed loudly. “Mother, could you walk us through the events of that season?”
Frowning, his mother looked between Anthony and Kate with confusion. She opened her mouth to ask a question, one they certainly would not be able to answer without sounding like they had gone mad when Kate interjected.
“I believe having an outside perspective will help him remember,” Kate offered hurriedly, moving closer to Anthony on the sofa, settling one of her hands atop his.
Anthony’s gaze dropped to their hands and he became transfixed by the sight of his mother's betrothal ring on Kate’s finger and how well it seemed to suit her. Before he could become too lost in his admiration, however, she squeezed his hand hard and he snapped his focus back up to her face. Kate pursed her lips and darted her eyes to his mother in what he instantly understood as a silent chastisement.
“And I do love hearing the story from other people,” Kate said smoothly, turning back to his mother with a smile.
“Of course,” his mother agreed, confusion leaving her face, quickly replaced by a tender emotion he did not feel comfortable watching too closely. “It was quite a whirlwind, and so romantic, if not a touch unusual.”
Anthony scowled as unease built in his chest. He desperately needed answers for why he married this lady when he had specifically set out to never marry someone he could feel great affection for and Kate was… far from an ideal candidate for that role. Considering his mother had used the term ‘romantic’, it was safe to say his plans for the season had failed spectacularly.
“Well, it started with your accident dear, when you were thrown from your horse in Hyde Park,” his mother continued.
“I was thrown from a horse?” he blurted out, feeling his ears grow hot. He did not need to turn his gaze to Kate to know her expression was likely twisted in an effort to hold in a laugh at his expense.
“Yes, and by some luck Kate was in the park that morning and found you!” his mother exclaimed, pressing her hand to her chest.
Kate turned her head to the side to catch Anthony’s eye and they exchanged a look. It seemed their first meeting had proceeded as he remembered, though clearly, they had not shared the more scandalous details of their first meeting.
“You hit your head quite severely and broke your leg,” the dowager continued, looking off into the distance as she recalled the details. “Kate alerted a pair of nearby riders, who, thankfully, recognized you and brought you back to Bridgerton house. After that, Kate would not leave your side, risking her reputation and great scandal for her family to stay here and nurse you back to health. In all, I believe she stayed six weeks while your leg healed, and you scarcely spent a day apart after that. In the weeks that followed I had to send footmen to Danbury house on many occasions to drag you back home at the end of the day, Anthony.”
Chuckling, his mother looked off into the distance at nothing in contemplation. “Then, let’s see, you married at the end of May, then left in June for your honeymoon tour and returned in January the following year!”
Anthony stared blankly at his mother as the details of her story sunk in.
“Apologies, are you—,” he stammered. “Do you mean to say we travelled for six months?”
“Indeed! And I daresay you still behave as if you are on your honeymoon even now, years later,” she grinned, or rather beamed at them and Anthony felt himself frown in response. No, nothing that season had gone to plan and the result was nothing short of a disaster.
“I left—,” Shooting out of his seat, Anthony stood as his voice cracked, his hands hanging limply at his sides. “I left the family for six months?”
“Yes, dear, quite happily too,” his mother replied, a curious look on her face.
“Then who ran the estate in my absence while I was off gallivanting in the countryside?” He swung his arms out to the side in his frustration. Anthony was confounded that she could easily recount this tale, ignoring the very dire fact that he had abandoned his family for the sake of his fancies with a stranger.
“That would be me, dear brother,” Benedict’s voice sounded from behind him. Anthony whirled around to see Benedict dropping a leather bag onto the ground at the door of the room and sauntering in. “And any time you would like to take back the mountain of the tasks you left me with would be greatly appreciated.”
“What tasks,” Anthony balked, scanning his brother’s face for signs that his abandonment had irreparably damaged his younger brother’s life or health.
“Oh Benedict, do not tease your brother,” Violet admonished. “Once you returned you asked him to permanently manage some of the tenant farms he oversaw whilst you were away, so you may have more free time with your wife. A perfectly reasonable request.”
“I did what?” Anthony spun back around to face his mother, beginning to feel lightheaded by the alarming news and the quick pace of their delivery.
“Brother, do you truly doubt my abilities so severely,” Benedict nudged him with an elbow, before crossing the room to fix himself a cup of tea. “Only three of the six farms have failed, a fifty percent success rate is something to be celebrated if you asked me.”
Sputtering and at a loss for words, Anthony could feel his face heating. His hands opened and closed uselessly on his lap as his mind spun violently.
Turning back around while sipping at his tea, Benedict frowned. “Anthony, what is the matter with you? You know it is only a jest. The farms are flourishing and everything is fine.”
Throwing himself down into a chair with a heaving sigh, Benedict raised a brow and smirked, looking between Anthony’s frozen frame, and Kate, still seated on the settee. “Isn’t it time you sneak off into your study with Kate to ‘work’ on your ‘ledgers’?”
“Pardon me?” Anthony choked as his face heated so forcefully he felt ill.
“Violet, what of my sister, have you—,” Kate trailed off. Anthony recalled that she too was likely desperate for news of how her life had changed in these missed two years and, in a daze, sat back down beside her. Kate cleared her throat and spoke again. “Has my sister come to visit lately?”
“Of course dear, she was just here on Monday and you are set to visit her today, did you forget?” his mother asked with a furrowed brow.
Anthony turned to face Kate in time to watch relief roll across her features. With a small smile and a heaving exhale she replied, “It must have slipped my mind. So she is settled then?”
“Indeed, my dear, and quite happily too,” Anthony’s mother grinned at his wife. “Mr. Bagwell is a charming young man, though Anthony seems determined to test his mettle at every opportunity, even now.”
“Anthony!” Kate nearly shouted, pushing up out of her seat so quickly he jumped in alarm. “Husband, do you think we should ready ourselves to visit Edwina then?”
“Oh, Kate,” Hyacinth called from her position on the floor across the room. “Can you please ask Edwina to visit next week? I do wish to see the babies again.”
Kate did her best to hide her shocked gasp at Hyacinth’s question, but Anthony could see the tension in her frame and she looked poised to sprint out of the room at any moment. He stood, to help calm her or to simply leave the room as she asked—he was unsure—so he stood at her side waiting for her next move.
Kate turned to Anthony’s youngest sibling and gave her a tight, slightly deranged smile. “Absolutely…”
“Hyacinth,” he leaned forward slightly and whispered in her ear.
“Absolutely, Hyacinth,” Kate’s smile warmed when Hyacinth hopped to her feet and ran across the room to give her a tight embrace. Anthony could only watch in frozen shock as the young girl he had raised turned to him looking much older than she had been only yesterday.
“No hug for your favourite brother?” Anthony asked hesitantly, hoping that in his missing two years, he hadn’t managed to tarnish his relationship with his youngest sister. To his great relief that did not seem the case as she broke into a familiar grin and leapt towards him, crushing him with a stronger embrace than he’d ever received from her. Wrapping his arms around her back, he found she was significantly taller and he could easily lean down to touch his nose to her hair and breathe in her familiar scent, one that had always calmed him even as an overwhelmed young man.
With his throat tightening, Anthony straightened and stepped back, reaching his arm out to Kate. “Well then,” he grunted, clearing his throat. “Shall we depart then, wife?”
Kate stared at him for several long moments, an expression in her eye that he could not decipher before she gave him a small smile and tight nod.
The journey to Kate’s sister’s—Mrs. Bagwell’s home was both illuminating and frustrating. After, as they drove back to Bridgerton house, the carriage encountered a large bump in the road, jostling Anthony into Kate’s side.
“Get off me,” Kate seethed, pushing at his shoulder roughly.
“You sat beside me!” Anthony snapped, scowling as he shifted in his seat to move further across the bench.
Rolling her eyes, Kate waved her hand dismissively then dropped it to her legs as she she brushed her hands roughly down her skirts.
“Let us focus on what we have learned, maybe something in the details of our absurd marriage will help us determine how we can wake ourselves from this dream.” Suddenly Kate’s eyes widened and she darted her gaze to Anthony before looking quickly away. “Or rather, nightmare,” she corrected.
Humming, Anthony settled in his position further from her, though he made up for the lack of proximity by turning to face Kate directly.
“I do remember meeting you in Hyde Park,” he started. “It seems that aligns with the story our families know of our union.”
“Yes, that must be when you were thrown from your horse,” Kate mused, pursing her lips, her eyes alight with mischief.
“I doubt that is what caused this,” he added quickly, straightening stiffly in his seat. “I doubt even that I was thrown from my horse.”
“It seems likely to me, your horsemanship leaves much to be desired,” she critiqued with a smile that made him narrow his eyes.
“I beg your pardon?” he snapped.
“Let us see, I left Danbury house before dawn and rode to the park,” Kate continued, ignoring his outburst as she looked off in the distance thoughtfully. “I recall racing you in the park, besting you, that is, and riding up a small hill.”
“Yes, then you turned to gloat, despite having an ample head start,” Anthony finished for her.
“Ah-ha!” Kate exclaimed, clapping her hands together and turning to face him directly. “I wonder if it was the sun!”
“The sun,” he repeated drily.
“Yes,” Kate insisted. “When I turned to look at you the sun suddenly shone brightly in my eyes and the next thing I knew I awakened here, two years later.”
“You think the sun shining in your eyes is to blame for us losing two years of time and apparently our sanity?” Anthony questioned, folding his arms across his chest.
“Do you have another theory, my lord?” Kate asked, quirking a brow at him. “In fact, it would also explain why your horse was spooked enough to throw you, considering there was no other danger as you were stopped at the time.”
“Hmm, that could make sense,” he mused, turning to look out the small carriage window to consider it. “Though Mustafa would not throw me even if a snake appeared in the grass.”
“Your horse's name is Mustafa?” Kate asked wryly, her eyebrows raised.
“Yes, why?” he frowned.
“No reason, I am simply shocked you did not give him—or her—a ridiculous English name,” Kate sniffed, tugging on the edge of her gloves as she raised her chin haughtily. “Mustafa implies some knowledge of the world outside England.”
“I read,” Anthony hissed before clenching his teeth together tightly in frustration.
Humming thoughtfully, Kate turned back in her seat to face forward. “Well then, let us focus on the topic at hand. I suggest we return to the park and see if recreating the scene will return us to our normal lives.”
“I shall alert the driver to head there now then,” Anthony said, raising his arm to rap on the ceiling of the carriage, however before he could make contact, pressure on his upper arm stopped him. He turned to see Kate’s hand lightly wrapped around his bicep and it felt as if he could feel the heat of her skin through her gloves and the layers of his clothing.
“I—,” she began before her gaze darted to her grip on his arm. Eyes widening in alarm, she pulled her hand away and cleared her throat as she toyed with the edge of her glove in her lap. “I doubt it should work now, considering it is not dawn and we are not on horseback.”
“Do you suggest we wait an entire day before even attempting to rectify this impossible situation?” he asked, shocked she was not more eager to at least try to get back to their normal lives.
“You will hardly suffer waiting a single day until we can recreate the conditions of our meeting,” Kate scoffed, rolling her eyes.
“Say we delay our attempt, as you suggest, and try at dawn. What if we wake tomorrow to find ourselves ten years in the future? We have no means of guaranteeing we can simply try again tomorrow,” Anthony insisted.
Kate opened her mouth to retort, but he could tell the moment the logic of his argument sank in and she sat back in her seat, defeated.
“As much as it pains me to admit,” she began, shooting him a rather petulant expression that made him want to begin arguing again just for the sake of it. “Your point has merit.”
Anthony felt a smug smile stretch across his lips. Sitting up in his seat again he rapped on the roof of the carriage and braced to stand when it began to slow down. Before he opened the door to speak to the driver, however, he leaned closer to Kate, still enjoying the buzz of triumph coursing through him, especially when she pointedly refused to look back at him.
Leaning close enough to smell a distinctly floral scent on her skin, Anthony whispered, “You should heed the advice of your husband more often, wife.” He could barely enjoy the hitch he heard in her breath before a loud knock sounded on the carriage door, pulling him away from his most interesting spouse.
Unfortunately for Anthony, his plan did not work, a fact Kate took great pleasure in discussing at length on their return to Bridgerton House. While Kate’s obvious satisfaction at being right irked Anthony beyond measure, he could not focus on a frivolous argument, not when his sole idea for a way out of this dream had proven to be a failure.
“I have never bested a viscount before, and your being a sore loser makes it that much sweeter,” Kate snarked from across the carriage. Anthony narrowed his eyes at her and saw that while she was not outwardly smirking, her eyes held an arrogant humour that only served to feed the acidic burn coursing through his gut.
“I will have you know I am not a sore loser,” Anthony spat, scowling at her.
Kate huffed a laugh, folding her hands neatly in her lap. Her casual attitude grated against his already frayed nerves and he resolved to bring her down to his level. After all, they were married, they should well and truly be in this together. “It would appear I am the sole mature party present, as you revel in your victory of an immaterial argument,” Anthony said harshly, leaning forward in his seat to glare at her. “I am infinitely more concerned with discovering a new method to attempt next considering our singular plan for escaping this dream has yielded no results.”
Humour fled Kate’s gaze in an instant and she skewered him with a withering glare. “Ah, yes, you alone suffer in this debacle,” she intoned wryly. “I am merely along for the ride, utterly pleased that we are no nearer to returning to our proper lives than we were this morning.”
“Well, I see no reason you should not be,” he accused, looking down his nose at her in a way he’d often seen his father's peers do, but had never truly felt natural on him. It seemed to incense Kate, her hands fisting on her lap in an instant, so perhaps it read exactly as intended. Pleased his anger and frustration had found a reactionary target he continued. “You have gained much by awakening in this nightmare, whereas I have lost in ways you cannot imagine.”
“I beg your pardon,” Kate seethed, leaning forward in her seat. Perhaps the fury radiating off her body in waves should have served as a warning to temper his words, but he was too far gone, too consumed by his own disappointment and fears, and he found himself unable—unwilling—to stop.
“You have awoken a viscountess to one of the most powerful families in good society,” Anthony spat at her. “From what I have gleaned from the conversations with our families today, you have gained money, security and influence, all things you were sorely lacking two years ago. Your sister is well settled in a happy marriage, with a sizable dowry that I apparently provided. Your mother is set up in an apartment in the fashionable part of town, another expense courtesy of your new wealthy husband.”
Kate’s complexion darkened, a deep flush staining her cheeks and chest. Considering these signs that he was correct in his assessment, Anthony continued.
“I have missed two years of Hyacinth and Gregory’s lives,” he said with difficulty, his throat squeezing painfully around the words. “I went to sleep and they were still children I knew everything about. I knew the location of each cut and scrape Hyacinth received from climbing the trees my mother forbade her from climbing, each pence Gregory had stashed away under his floorboards and what he planned to do with his funds. I knew what made them laugh and what nightmares scared them from their sleep. And I have awoken to—,” his voice cracked and he stared out the window, blinking away the stinging in his eyes.
Clearing his throat, he turned back to Kate, who had grown stony-faced in his brief pause. “The children, who I have watched from the moment of their births are wholly different people, strangers to me. My brother and sister have left my home, and my carefully laid plans for the future well-being of my family have been ruined. So, please, tell me Miss Sharma, or rather Lady Bridgerton, what you have suffered amongst all that you have gained?”
Anthony sat back in his seat, his chest heaving, realizing he had leaned so far forward whilst he made his speech, he had nearly fallen off the bench as he glared at Kate. He had expected her to shout at him in response. Or to, at the very least, look at him with some sort of derision, but instead, she simply tilted her head, examining him as his breathing calmed and his heartbeat slowed. Her gaze was direct, too direct, and Anthony had to look away.
“I was not under the impression that the circumstances surrounding my distress at the situation we have found ourselves in negated yours, my lord,” Kate said evenly, forcing Anthony to face her again, her tone and her face far too placid considering he had insulted her only moments prior. “I am sympathetic to how troubling it is to lose two years of your younger siblings' lives, as I too have lost that time with Edwina as well as my new nieces.”
Anthony swallowed and shifted in his seat, feeling chastised, but unable to make apologies for his words. If only he could see a way out of this dream, then perhaps he could attempt to see things from her perspective. But his mind would not stop revisiting the changes in Hyacinth and Gregory’s faces he’d seen that morning, how different they looked from just the day before. Nor could he stop from imagining how Kate, whom he had apparently married for love, would shatter upon his death in a few short years. He felt as if something had been stolen from him and Anthony found he could not summon the energy to be gracious in the face of that loss.
“While I am pleased to find my family safe and happy and I am grateful that you have played a role in securing that for them,” Kate continued, pulling his focus to the hard glint in her eye. “I too had plans for my future. I too have lost precious time with the people I love most dearly and I do not see the value in comparing who has suffered most in this nightmare, though it appears you would feel more comfortable if we sat in our self-pity.”
The moment she stopped speaking, the carriage pulled to a halt and without waiting for the footman, Kate swung open the door, jumped down and stormed off into the house. Anthony blinked at her retreating figure, hearing only his blood roaring in his ears and Kate’s steps on the gravel drive.
“My lord?” A footman’s voice jolted Anthony from his frozen state and he rushed to his feet, following after Kate.
By the time he made it into the house, he did not see her on the stairs and assumed she had retreated to the viscountess’ chambers. Perhaps that was for the best, he thought, turning towards the sound of Hyacinth and Gregory’s voices down the hall.
Hours later, long after a dinner Kate did not join had concluded, and after Anthony had begged Hyacinth and Gregory to allow him to tuck them into bed, he climbed the stairs and entered his chambers. He’d just stepped in the door when he saw Kate, perched on the edge of the bed, in the same shift she’d worn that morning, but this time she had a patterned shawl of some sort wrapped around her arms and chest.
“Er—, what are you—,” Anthony trailed off, his gaze darting between the sight of her bare arms and her loose hair cascading down around them.
As he spent the evening with his youngest siblings, Anthony’s anger had faded. It had spiked again briefly when Eloise returned home and he learned that Kate had convinced him a year ago to allow Eloise to pursue a university education with a number of tutors. He’d wanted to be irritated at the evidence that this lady, his wife, had again managed to convince him to do something he never would have allowed—and to spend a small fortune on it. However, as he listened to Eloise detailing her lessons that day, and the way she had brightened as he asked her questions, Anthony allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction, nay pride, in the allowance of such an expense. Even if he could not remember allowing it.
“It appears that we share a bed,” Kate said firmly, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders, though her face did not betray any nerves.
“Right,” Anthony mumbled, feeling quite overdressed as he stood frozen in the doorway, his hand resting on the doorknob. Kate raised her brows expectantly and it shook him out of the stasis that had consistently plagued him since waking that morning. “Well then, I will just—,” he trailed off pointing towards the dressing room, avoiding her gaze as he walked in and closed the door behind him.
After lingering in the bath as long as he could, hoping that Kate had fallen asleep before he could return, Anthony slowly turned the knob and cracked open the door to his bedchamber. Unfortunately, Kate was still very much awake—she sat under the covers, leaning against the pillows, her protective shawl missing.
With a huff of frustration at his uncharacteristically timid behaviour, Anthony pushed through the door and marched towards his bed. He set about extinguishing the candles and once the room was pitched into darkness he threw back his covers and settled in beside her.
Several long, uncomfortable moments passed in silence as Anthony tried valiantly to lie still beside Kate. Though there was quite some distance between them in the large bed he could feel her presence beside him. It was as if she were a bed warmer filled with bright red coals, her very essence crossing the large mattress singeing his skin and heating his blood.
Shifting under the covers, he heard her release an exasperated sigh, before turning over to face away from him. Anthony ground his teeth together, the need to speak to her building in him like an insistent pressure. He fisted his hands at his sides as he tried to keep himself from speaking, from prodding her with whatever inane thought popped into his head in a desperate bid to get her attention. He could not understand where this ridiculous feeling stemmed from, but Anthony did know her anger, frustration or even sadness directed towards him was far preferable to her silence.
“I was callous earlier,” he blurted out loudly, his words seeming to echo in the dark stillness of his chambers. “Regardless of what difficulties I am facing, it was unfair to insinuate that I am the only one struggling.”
A profound silence stretched between them and Anthony could not be sure Kate was even breathing as he strained to hear any sign of response from her side of the bed. Turning his head to watch her, he saw her long curls pool against her pillow and the mattress and he had a sudden urge to reach out and discover how her hair felt against the pads of his fingers.
“Are you apologizing?” Kate finally asked quietly.
A relieved breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding escaped Anthony in a rush. “Yes, I just apologized,” he said to her back.
“You did not,” she retorted. “You simply stated a true statement: you were callous and dismissive.”
“I—,” Anthony cut himself off as he silently repeated his apology in his head. Irritatingly, his wife was correct. “Allow me to apologize twice, my lady, once for my cruel words, and then again for not speaking plainly.”
Without warning, Kate flipped over in bed, tucking her hands under her cheek as she faced Anthony. Suddenly aware of her proximity, Anthony swallowed around his dry throat and took in the dark shadows of her face illuminated in the weak moonlight, his gaze finally settling on her lips as she spoke again.
“I believe we got off to a bad start,” she remarked, her lips twisting with amusement. “Several bad starts, in fact. If we are ever to escape this nightmare, then I believe it is best that we work together to find a solution. As a team.”
Stomach dipping unsettlingly, Anthony nodded, prompting a rare and genuine smile from Kate.
His wife.
Whether they were in a dream, or if their situation was real, Anthony concluded that he ought to at least work with this lady he had married. He decided the old, lost version of himself would not have been entirely thoughtless and lovesick when choosing Kate to marry. She likely had many good qualities and her mind seemed to be one of them.
“I saw you wear a ring as well,” Kate said gently, disrupting the more comfortable quiet that had settled between them. “Is that common in England?”
“No, but—,” Anthony’s voice caught and he cleared his throat, turning to stare at the ceiling. “My father wore one.”
“Are you much like your father then?” she asked, the question sitting like a lead weight on his chest.
“No,” he answered gruffly. “My father was a great man and I—,” his voice caught again and Anthony was grateful the room was dark, as he could feel a flush creep across his cheeks. “I would not compare myself to my father.”
“You married for love, care deeply for a large family, and wear a wedding band,” Kate retorted and he heard her shift against the sheets. “Even if it is a dream, it seems to me you are more alike than you would suggest.”
He could not answer her. What could he say? She did not know the eighth Viscount Bridgerton, and as such, would never know the true weight of how little Anthony measured up to his father. He touched his fingers to his ring and spun it absentmindedly as her words weighed on him.
“Do you believe we’ll awake tomorrow still in this dream?” he asked quietly, the previous conversation still clinging to his throat. When she did not answer, Anthony turned his head to face her.
Regarding him thoughtfully, Kate hummed. “I cannot know what tomorrow will hold, but should we find ourselves still here come dawn, we must try harder to find a way out.”
“Agreed,” he mumbled. When Kate’s lips pursed and when it seemed she would speak again, Anthony clenched his jaw and shifted onto his back. “Go to sleep, Kate,” he commanded.
“Even if you were my husband, I would not heed your command, my lord,” she sniffed as she rolled over herself, though he could hear a smile in her voice.
Anthony lay in bed for hours, unable to find sleep. They had not spoken again, sitting in surprisingly companionable silence until Kate drifted off sometime in the night but not even the steady sound of her breathing could lull him to sleep. He couldn’t be certain but he felt as if falling asleep would be submitting to the dream, accepting it in some fashion.
While some aspects of his new life were pleasant enough—Eloise and Benedict seemed extraordinarily pleased with their newfound employment—Anthony could not forget his loss. Losing years of his youngest siblings' lives was devastating, to be sure, but as he lay in the quiet darkness, he lamented his loss of control more than anything else. How could his outlook on life have changed so drastically from a riding accident, swaying him to marry a woman he loved? What happened during those six weeks he spent under Kate’s care that convinced him to allow her to risk becoming a shell of a person after his inevitable passing, echoing his own miserable youth?
Turning again to face her, he shifted across the bed until he was close enough to feel her soft breath fan across his face as she slept. He stared at Kate unendingly, as if the force of his gaze could invade her mind, unlocking the secrets that would explain what about her could motivate his reckless choices as the night passed around them. From the corner of his eye, Anthony could see dawn breaking through a small crack in his curtains and he let out an exhausted breath. He resolved that if they truly were trapped in a confusing dream, sleep likely had nothing to do with it.
Just as he decided to allow himself a quick hour of rest, Kate opened her sleep-bleary eyes and looked directly at him. The sun’s rays filtered through the curtains, a beam of light hitting him in the eye and as he watched his wife, his fingers passing thoughtfully over his wedding band, Anthony blinked.