Chapter Text
So that’s what it looks like, she thought.
Kate had never seen her sister quite like this. Of course, Edwina smiled often and laughed prettily, she was rarely unhappy. But she had never seen such joy emanate from her, the way her shoulders shook with mirth when she laughed, how she couldn’t take her eyes off the man escorting her around the park.
And how he couldn’t take her eyes off her.
But even all this paled into insignificance when she saw Bagwell take his leave of her sister. Rather than bending subserviently over her hand, he raised it up to his mouth and looked straight into her eyes as he kissed it.
Kate had to look away, as though she was witnessing something private.
Once Bagwell left, Edwina came bounding up to her eyes dancing, chatting away. Did Kate know Mr. Bagwell had recently written an essay on Kantian philosophy, and she couldn’t wait to read it? That he had returned the books she had leant to him only a week before with insightful and funny comments? That he had…
Kate’s mind drifted away as she considered all she knew of Bagwell.
He had never been on the list of suitors Kate had drawn up for Edwina. He was the second son of an earl. His older brother had two sons (so unlikely to become an earl himself) and a younger brother in the army.
The earldom was relatively impoverished so while it was a point to Bagwell’s favour that he had taken his studies seriously and was making a name for himself in academia, he was unlikely to overlook Edwina’s lack of dowry.
“He wants to ask you, Didi,” Edwina said, her voice cutting across Kate’s thoughts, “I know of your concerns and I share them but I love him. And he loves me, he told me so.”
Kate bit her lip. She wasn’t sure she could grant Bagwell the permission he wanted.
But at the same time how could she not? How could she ask Edwina to sacrifice her happiness to take care of all of them? This was not Edwina’s job, it was Kate’s job to make sacrifices. Edwina’s happiness had always been the goal, how could Kate deny her now?
Kate scanned the families promenading around them until she saw a familiar figure, taller than the others around them, dark hair gleaming in the sunlight. He turned suddenly and caught her eye, as though he could feel her eyes on him. As though she had called out to him and he heard.
As they walked back towards Mary and Lady Danbury, Kate separated herself from them, pretending to admire some flowers by the edge of the lake. She didn’t look up until his shadow fell across her.
“Miss Sharma,” he said, touching his hand to his hat.
“Lord Bridgerton,” she answered as politely as she could manage.
There was a pause as she gathered her courage. She could not imagine what Bridgerton was thinking.
“Call on me tomorrow,” she said, before she could lose her nerve and raced back to her family before she could see the look of surprise on Bridgerton’s face.
~*~
When Anthony arrived at Danbury house, he noticed it was remarkably quiet. Certainly there were servants bustling about but it still took him a moment to realise what his subconscious had noticed; there was no queue of suitors lining up for the diamond.
Anthony smiled. Had Bagwell finally offered then? About time.
The butler showed him into the main drawing room. He had been here before, accompanying his mother for a surprisingly entertaining afternoon tea. Then, the room had been bustling, chatter and laughter echoing from the high ceilings. Now it was quiet, empty save for himself, Miss Sharma and a footman that Anthony knew for a fact was profoundly deaf.
Miss Sharma rose and Anthony nodded politely at her, taking a seat opposite her at her invitation.
“I trust your family is in good health?” he enquired politely as she poured tea.
“They are well, thank you,” Miss Sharma replied, handing him his cup and pouring her own, “Lady Danbury, my step-mother and my sister are visiting the modiste. Else they would also be here drinking this… tea.”
Anthony would bet his life that Miss Sharma had arranged it so that they would be out when he visited.
What was going on here? He had often thought of Miss Sharma as being guarded but this was secretive even for her. She was not the type to trick another into compromising her- and she would not have allowed the footman to remain if so- but what could she possibly want from him? And what did she want that had to be so secret?
As though sensing his unease, Miss Sharma replaced her teacup in its saucer and placed it on the table in front of her.
“My lord, perhaps I should speak plainly. I am of the belief that we should marry.”
Anthony dropped his tea.
Even before the cup smashed on the ground, Miss Sharma was on her feet calling for a maid to clean up the spillage and to bring a new cup. Anthony barely noticed the sudden bustle around him. His mind was whirling. This was not a position he had ever expected to encounter, although he had to admit that breaking yet another rule of society was quite in keeping with Miss Sharma’s character.
He had met her, early morning, unchaperoned, riding astride a horse in Hyde Park. She had raced him, bested him and laughed with him, then rejected him at the Danbury Ball only days later. He had chalked her up to being one of those naïve women who believed men only married for love and never had both a wife and a mistress. No wonder she was unmarried at six and twenty, he had thought unkindly.
But surely this was not the case here. She was contrary but not stupid. She could not believe them to be in love now- could she?
When the staff had finally departed- all save for the deaf footman, now he understood why him!- Anthony regarded Miss Sharma with his best intimidating-Viscount stare.
“Explain,” he said.
Miss Sharma was not cowed. He did not think she would be.
“We both have goals that could be achieved if we were to marry each other,” she said, “You wish for love to be absent from your marriage, in addition to a wife that would make a good Viscountess, bear your children and all the rest of it. I do not love you and will never love you. I have been managing my own family's affairs for a number of years now, although I realise it will be quite a jump from my own small family to yours, not to mention a Viscounty. Furthermore there are no ladies equal to the task. Your own investigations have concluded that.”
Anthony ignored the barb at the interviews he had conducted early in the Season. He had also come to the conclusion that none of the ladies were suitable.
“And what of your goals? What do you get out of this… arrangement?”
Miss Sharma sipped her tea. He found himself watching her pursed lips with interest.
“I am of the belief that Mr. Bagwell intends to propose to my sister.”
Anthony fought to not let his impatience show. The whole ton knew Bagwell had designs on Miss Edwina, the only news here was that he had not already proposed.
“My sister has no dowry.”
Ah. It was beginning to make sense now.
“In addition to this, I do not believe Mr. Bagwell has the means to support Mary, especially as she gets older.”
“Nor you I should imagine,” said Anthony unthinkingly.
“I am not worried for myself,” said Miss Sharma softly, “I would find a way to support myself either here or in India. But it is unlikely to be enough to support Mary, even if Bagwell would marry my sister without a dowry.”
“So your plan to support your mother, to provide your sister’s dowry, is me?”
“That is correct.”
Anthony was not romantic. He knew what he brought to the table. He had scoffed at Daphne’s books of princes who had hidden their identities until a fair maiden had declared her love for him and not the crown or the throne or whatever rot it was.
Still, there was something a little disconcerting about how unapologetically mercenary Miss Sharma was.
“We hate each other,” he pointed out. She did not appear to take offence. It was a truthful statement after all.
“You want a loveless marriage, my lord.”
“I was hoping for indifference, at least.”
Miss Sharma placed her tea down on the table. He found his eyes tracking the movement instinctively.
“If this is a refusal my lord, I understand. I only ask that you tell no one of this conversation-”
“It is not a refusal.”
Miss Sharma looked at him with confusion in her eyes but not hope. Anthony looked away. Heavens, is this what it was like for women? When a man proposed to them, were they also in turmoil? Did they feel unbalanced? Trying frantically to weigh up pros and cons but then tripping over their thoughts and having to start again?
He had never felt more sympathy for women in his life.
“May I have a few days to consider?” he said, rising to his feet. He could not think in the same room as Miss Sharma, he had to be alone.
“Of course,” said Miss Sharma, also rising, “My lord, I will not be offended if you refuse. I only ask for your discretion.”
“You have my word.”
And with that, Anthony bowed his head and left.
~*~
She did not see him again until Ascot.
Kate’s group was walking through the crowd, Bagwell and Edwina in front, followed by Mary and Lady Danbury. Kate brought up the rear, the spinster sister walking by herself.
Until Lord Bridgerton sidled up to her and said, “I accept your proposal, Miss Sharma, with stipulations.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Stipulations, my lord?”
He smirked and she felt as though the ground shifted beneath her. It was a strange experience. She knew she had him on the back foot last time they had met and she did not relish the reversal.
“We will court publically for three weeks. After those three weeks have elapsed, you and your family will visit mine at Aubrey Hall where our engagement will be announced at the ball my mother hosts there every year. We will marry after the banns are read.”
Kate bit back an impolite reply. Bridgerton was not saying anything she had not thought of herself when considering how this all might play out, but there was something arrogant about the way he said it, declaring how everything would be, without considering anyone else.
“In addition to this-”
“There’s more?” Kate suddenly broke out, her determination to stay quiet forgotten.
“This was your idea, Miss Sharma.”
“I spoke of it in a private drawing room, empty save for a man who could not hear! You speak of our ruse openly where we might be overheard.”
Bridgerton looked at her as though he was contemplating what to say.
“It is not a ruse,” he said, finally.
“What?”
It was only now that Kate realised they had stopped walking. The crowd around them ebbed and flowed as people met their friends, went to find seats, went to place bets. In the middle of it all stood the two of them, completely still. At least, until Bridgerton leaned in slowly and spoke quietly enough that she would acknowledge that no one would hear.
“I was under the impression that despite our lack of romantic attachment to each other, that this would be a real marriage, that we would be joined together in law and before God. Is that not the case, Miss Sharma?”
Kate was finding it difficult to breathe. He was standing much too close, his broad shoulder blocking her view of anything else, his lips inches away from her skin. She felt surrounded by him, engulfed, even though all she had to do was take a step back and she would be free of him. She did not.
Bridgerton leaned away and regarded her with a raised eyebrow of his own.
“Well Miss Sharma?”
Suddenly air filled her lungs again. As she inhaled and exhaled, she looked at Bridgerton with narrowed eyes.
He had done that deliberately.
She had almost forgotten he was a rake, that he would know how to manipulate women with the feel of his breath on her ear. She would not fall for it again.
“The marriage will not be a ruse,” she agreed, “but the courtship? Unless you mean to tell the entire ton that I am only marrying you for your money or that you are only marrying me because no other lady would have you, then you have to admit our courtship of each other would indeed be a ruse.”
She wondered maybe if she had pushed him too far, if the unbalanced feeling she had around him had made her ruder than she really needed to be but he grinned at her and said, “There are many other ladies that would have me, Miss Sharma. But perhaps I am the only man that can handle you.”
Do not fall for it.
She turned away from him, not just her head, her whole body, and looked out at the track. The race would not start for another half an hour but she found herself anxious for it to start, for something to distract her.
“Which is your horse?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see this had thrown him. This pleased her.
“My horse?”
“The one you have placed your bet on. That is what one does at Ascot is it not?”
She was being very obvious but Bridgerton did not seem to mind the radical change in conversation. In fact he answered.
“Nectar.”
Kate snorted, all her nerves banished.
“What is wrong with Nectar?” he asked, sounding amused.
“You must have agonised over that decision my lord, to pick the same horse as everyone else.”
He shrugged. “I have a good feeling about him.”
“The house has a good feeling about your money.”
“Is that so?” He had moved closer to her now but Kate found that she did not mind, she could keep her wits about her as long as they spoke only of the race.
“Which is your horse, Miss Sharma?”
“Ladies are not permitted to place bets, my lord.”
“But if you could?”
“High Flyer.”
Bridgerton snorted, sounding not unlike a horse himself.
“Nectar’s victory at Doncaster gave him a shine that every man here mistakes for certainty that he will win here- or a ‘good feeling’ as you put it- but it is illogical.”
“Is that so?” Bridgerton said, “And why is High Flyer the logical choice?”
“The colder weather and firmer ground was beneficial to Nectar at Doncaster. However, it is a warm day and the rain last night has made the ground softer. Nectar’s size will be disadvantageous to him, he will overheat and lose headway, that is if he even finishes. The race will be won by a lighter, less bulky horse.”
“Thus High Flyer,” Bridgerton murmured, “you’ve given this a lot of thought, Miss Sharma.”
“I give all decisions I make a lot of thought,” Kate said, looking back at the track. The conversation was going back to dangerous waters and the way Bridgerton was looking at her was tilting the ground beneath her again.
“We should find our seats, my lord.”
The Viscount offered Kate his arm. She hesitated only for a moment before taking it. They walked together up the stairs to their seats, Bridgerton nodding occasionally at people he knew. Kate could feel the curious- and sometimes hostile- looks she was getting from the mammas. Escorting her here was only a step down from openly courting her. The plan was already in motion.
As Kate sat down, Bridgerton greeted her party politely, said “Excuse me,” then turned around.
“You aren’t staying?” asked Kate in surprise.
“I will return momentarily,” he replied, giving her a warm smile.
Then he left.
Kate watched him leave then, and made the acquaintance of the gentleman sitting to her left. His name was Thomas Dorset, he was attending Ascot on Lady Danbury’s invitation. By the way Lady Danbury was eyeing them meaningfully, Kate rather thought she was being set up with him.
But Dorset was a third son. He supported himself on his own wages, rather than an income from an estate or old family money. He would need a wife with a dowry.
He would not be able to provide for Kate’s family so he would not do for Kate.
“How well acquainted with Lord Bridgerton are you?” Dorset asked.
Kate considered her answer carefully but quickly. Bridgerton had claimed to accept her proposal but she still did not know what his final stipulations were, if he had requirements she could not meet.
Still, they were not known to be courting. If Kate could not continue with Bridgerton, there was no need to think of this day as any more than simply being escorted to a public event by an eligible bachelor, a one-off occurrence that led to nothing.
“I was introduced to him at Lady Danbury’s ball at the beginning of the Season,” Kate replied. It was close enough to the truth. “You know him as well?”
“We were students together at Oxford. We read different subjects but we often ran in the same circles.”
“What was he like then?” Kate asked curiously. She was wondering if her dislike of him was because he vexed her personally. How did he come across to others?”
“He was rather quiet.”
“Quiet!” Kate would not have been more surprised if Dorset had said Bridgerton had an apple for a head and danced round maypoles naked. “I would never have called Lord Bridgerton quiet.”
“He was then,” said Dorset thoughtfully, “There was a sadness to him. I believe he had only recently lost his father. But time heals all, Miss Sharma. He certainly appears more exuberant these days.”
Was there not still a sadness about him now? Kate thought back to the Danbury Ball, how she had watched him as he danced. There had been no joy in his movements, even with the lively country dances. He did not smile, unless it was tightly at the end of a dance. It never reached his eyes.
Kate was contemplating how to reply when a shadow fell across her. She looked away from Mr. Dorset and up into Lord Bridgerton’s eyes.
There was an emotion that passed across his face, something like anger? Or hurt? But surely that couldn’t be right. Whatever it was she must have imagined as when he sat down next to her, he chatted easily with Mr. Bagwell on his other side.
Finally the race began.
As soon as the starting gun went off, Kate was on her feet cheering and hollering for her horse. Next to her, Bridgerton had also risen to his feet, shouting “Come on! Come on!” The atmosphere was exhilarating, Kate was having the time of her life. Out of sheer joy, she put two fingers in her mouth and whistled.
She cried out with delight when High Flyer crossed the finish line in first place. She caught Bridgerton’s eye and saw her joy mirrored on his own face. She only just stopped herself from throwing her arms around him.
~*~
After Kate, Edwina and Bagwell had congratulated the winning jockey (and the winning horse), Kate went to the refreshment stand for a cup of lemonade. Before she reached the stand, however, she caught sight of Lord Bridgerton.
She hadn’t seen him since the end of the race half an hour earlier. He had rushed off suddenly and she was unsure if he had gone home altogether. Seeing him now, walking towards her with a grin on his face, she was suddenly glad he hadn’t left.
He thrust a small silk bag at her. Kate took it curiously and gasped as she looked inside.
“My lord, what-”
“Your winnings, Miss Sharma.”
“But I did not place a bet,” said Kate in confusion.
“I decided to take your advice and place a bet on High Flyer instead of Nectar. Jolly glad I did too.”
“You changed your mind?” said Kate, still confused. She never changed hers. Once she decided on a course of action, she saw it through to the bitter end.
Bridgerton smiled. “You made a convincing- and logical- argument.”
Kate weighed the bag of coins in one hand. Then held it back out to the Viscount.
“I cannot accept this.”
“Yes you can,” he replied as easily as though they were talking of the weather.
“I did not place the bet!”
“Consider it a cut then,” said Bridgerton, “You gave me a tip, I give you a cut of the winnings I would not ordinarily have won without you.”
Kate looked back at the bag of coins. It was very generous of him. Slowly, she put the bag in her reticule.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
“Was that so hard?” said Bridgerton, smiling at her in an infuriating way and offering her his arm. She rolled her eyes and linked her arm through his.
They walked for a while in comfortable silence, ambling in no particular direction. Whereas before the curious looks she had received had made Kate feel uneasy, now she held her head high. She had every right to be on the Viscount’s arm.
“What are your other stipulations, my lord?”
Bridgerton stopped suddenly and turned to face her. A dark, slightly angry look came across his face, making Kate shiver.
“No lovers. You will be faithful to me.”
He could not have said anything more insulting. She knew what was expected of her. She knew the role of a woman in a marriage. She also knew that men had no requirements to be faithful.
“Of course,” said Kate shortly.
“In return,” said Bridgerton, his face more relaxed now, his lips turning up at the corners slightly, “I will have no mistresses, no lovers of my own. I will be faithful to you.”
“That will not be necessary, my lord.”
“Miss Sharma-”
“Do not make promises you cannot keep,” said Kate, unable to hide her anger, “You forget I heard you outside Lady Danbury’s ball. You said you saw no reason for a man to forgo a mistress unless he was in love with his wife.”
Bridgerton stared at her, his mouth slightly open.
“There is, and will always be, no love between us,” said Kate quietly, “There is nothing to stop you taking a mistress.”
Bridgerton grabbed Kate’s hand suddenly. She inhaled sharply, she could feel the warmth of his hand even through her glove, even as he held her hand so tightly.
“Love has nothing to do with it. It is only fair. I will not take another. Only you.”
Something strange happened to Kate’s heart, as though for a moment there was an extra beat. She looked away from him, his gaze suddenly unbearable. She flexed her hand slightly and Bridgerton dropped it, as though he hadn’t realised he’d been holding it.
“As you wish, my lord,” said Kate. They started walking again. She did not take his arm again, nor did he offer it.
They walked for a little longer. After a few moments, Kate realised they were heading towards the carriages where Lady Danbury, Mary, and Edwina were waiting.
“What are you going to do with your winnings?” said Bridgerton lightly, as though the brief, tense moment between them had not happened.
“I might treat Edwina to an ice from Gunther’s. Or take her to the modiste, there is a new pale pink silk that would look lovely on her-”
“No.”
Kate gaped at his interruption. “Excuse me?”
“No,” he said, softer this time, “You should not spend your winnings on your sister. You should do something for yourself, Kate.”
She had nothing to say to that. When they reached the carriages, Bridgerton touched his hat and bade her farewell. As she watched him go to his own carriage, she felt as though her heart had an extra beat again.