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Eloise had once likened the London social season to a battlefield.
And now, as she stood at the threshold of the Danbury Ball, with its gleaming chandeliers and its throng of debutantes dressed as though they were attending a celestial coronation, she felt the metaphor lacked sufficient drama. A battlefield might at least involve swords. This was worse: a siege of expectations, conducted with smiles and silk gloves.
Beside her, Kate adjusted the neckline of her gown, her expression serene, though her fingers betrayed her nerves with their constant fiddling. “Is it dreadful of me to feel excited?” Kate asked, glancing at Eloise.
“It is dreadful, but not surprising. You’re entirely too good at being optimistic,” Eloise replied.
“I’m optimistic because I have a plan,” Kate said with a self-assured nod. “This season is a strategy. I’ll meet someone respectable, charming, and rich enough to support my family. That’s all.”
“Respectable men don’t exist,” Eloise declared. “If they did, I’d have seen one by now, considering my brothers claim to be paragons of virtue.” She rolled her eyes toward Anthony and Benedict, who stood across the room, both the picture of confidence and familial duty.
Kate chuckled. “Perhaps you’ve been looking at the wrong gentlemen. Although,” she added with a smirk, “if either of them would like to assist me in this plan, I wouldn’t object.”
“Please,” Eloise said, wrinkling her nose. “If you take up with one of them, I’ll never hear the end of it at dinner.”
The two friends shared a grin before stepping into the ballroom. The air was alive with music and laughter, the scent of roses mingling with the sharper tang of nervous perspiration. Kate felt the weight of expectation settle on her shoulders, but she squared them, stepping forward with a grace she’d practiced in secret. Eloise followed, her steps more hesitant, her mind already plotting her escape.
And then they were seen.
The Bridgertons were always seen, of course. Eight siblings and an unmatched legacy of scandal, charm, and absurdly high cheekbones ensured that. Eloise, however, preferred being noticed at a safe distance, preferably behind a wall.
“Miss Bridgerton,” trilled Lady Cowper.
Eloise winced. “Speak of the devil,” she muttered to Kate.
Lady Cowper swept forward, her daughter, Cressida, in tow. Cressida’s blond curls framed a face of serene disdain, as though the rest of the ballroom existed merely for her amusement.
“Miss Bridgerton, Miss Sharma,” Lady Cowper began, her voice sweet as sugared lemon. “How radiant you both look tonight. I daresay the gentlemen won’t know where to look first.”
Kate dipped a polite curtsy, but Eloise fixed Cressida with a pointed stare. “What a pity they’ll all be looking at you instead,” she said, her tone sharper than her words.
Cressida arched a delicate brow. “I didn’t realize flattery was your forte, Miss Bridgerton. Perhaps I’ve underestimated you.”
Before Eloise could reply, likely with something disastrous, Kate stepped in. “Lady Cowper, your gown is exquisite. I believe I spotted something similar in a Parisian sketchbook.”
Lady Cowper beamed, and the tension ebbed as the group was drawn into safer topics. Eloise shot Kate a grateful look, but her mood soured again when she spotted Phillip across the room.
Phillip Crane was precisely the sort of man Eloise detested: tall, quiet, and exasperatingly handsome. He looked like the sort of gentleman who brooded over poetry and wildflowers, which was both perplexing and deeply irritating.
He caught her staring and inclined his head in greeting. Eloise promptly turned her back.
“Trouble?” Kate murmured.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” Eloise replied. “But you, my dear Kate, seem to have drawn a far more dangerous gaze.”
Kate followed Eloise’s line of sight and found herself meeting the gaze of Anthony, her friend’s eldest brother. He was standing near the refreshments table, his stance commanding, his dark eyes fixed entirely on her. A lesser woman might have quailed under that intensity. Kate, however, merely inclined her head.
Anthony didn’t smile, but there was something in his expression, approval, perhaps, that made Kate’s stomach flutter. She looked away, unnerved.
Moments later, Benedict appeared at her side. The second eldest Bridgerton was all effortless charm and twinkling eyes. “Miss Sharma,” he said, bowing low. “I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been left unclaimed for the next dance. Shall we remedy that?”
Kate hesitated, her eyes flickering between Benedict’s warm smile and Anthony’s stare. “I’d be delighted,” she said finally, letting Benedict lead her to the floor.
As the music began, Eloise leaned against a nearby column, her sharp eyes trailing her second-eldest brother as he twirled Kate onto the dance floor. Benedict’s easy charm was on full display, his smile warm and engaging, while Kate responded with the poise of someone both amused and slightly wary.
Eloise sighed. “Benedict is being ridiculous,” she muttered under her breath.
“And Anthony isn’t?” Violet asked softly as she appeared at Eloise’s side, her expression knowing.
Eloise glanced toward Anthony, who stood near the refreshments table, his sharp gaze fixed on Kate and Benedict. He looked like a lion sizing up its next move. “Anthony is always ridiculous,” Eloise replied. “He’s brooding in that way he thinks makes him look noble. It doesn’t.”
Her mother smirked. “They’re both Bridgertons, darling. Ridiculousness is practically a family trait.”
Eloise’s lips twitched, but her attention returned to the dance floor. Kate was her friend: clever, kind, and thoroughly unprepared for the chaos that was the Bridgerton family. And now, she was the unwitting object of not one, but two of her brothers’ attentions.
“I should warn her,” Eloise murmured.
“Warn her of what?” her mother asked.
“That she’s courting disaster. In duplicate.”
-
The dance floor was a swirl of silk and satin, and as Kate was led through the steps by Benedict, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of bemusement. Benedict’s charm was ever-present, his light-hearted manner infectious, but Kate was aware of the silent tension radiating from Anthony at the edge of the room. She could feel his gaze on her, even from a distance, like a tangible weight.
It was disorienting.
Benedict spun her expertly, and she laughed, grateful for the distraction. He was saying something, no doubt trying to make her laugh with one of his witticisms, but Kate’s mind was elsewhere. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy his company, Benedict was effortlessly likeable, but there was something in the way Anthony looked at her that made her insides flutter, even as she tried to dismiss it.
“This is quite the spectacle, isn’t it?” Benedict asked, twirling her again.
“I suppose it is,” Kate replied, forcing herself to focus. “But I’m certain you’re the only one here enjoying it.”
Benedict flashed a grin. “I enjoy a good spectacle. And I have to say, Miss Sharma, you seem entirely at home in one.”
“I’m only trying to survive,” she said with a small smile, though her thoughts were still divided.
Benedict’s grin softened for a moment, and he leaned closer, speaking in a lower tone. “Miss Sharma, if you ever need someone to talk to… or someone to keep your dance card full, you know where to find me.”
His tone was warm, but it wasn’t quite the playful teasing she had expected. It made her pause. Benedict had always been a gentleman, but there was something in his voice, in the way he spoke to her, that felt different tonight.
Before she could respond, Anthony’s voice broke into her thoughts.
“May I cut in?” The deep, steady tone sent a shiver through her.
Benedict stepped back with an easy smile, bowing low. “Of course, brother. I’ll leave you to it.”
Kate’s heart raced as Anthony extended his hand, his gaze never leaving her. With a slight nod, she placed her hand in his, her pulse quickening at the simple touch.
As they moved to the center of the floor, the world seemed to recede. The music swirled around them, but all she could focus on was the firm grip of Anthony’s hand around hers, the gentle but insistent pull of his presence.
“Miss Sharma,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “You dance with an elegance that rivals the finest ladies of the ton.”
Kate couldn’t help but feel a blush rise to her cheeks, even as she tried to maintain her composure. “Thank you, Lord Bridgerton,” she replied, her voice low.
The world around them faded, and for a brief moment, it felt as though they were the only two people in the room. It was disorienting, but not unpleasant. Quite the opposite, in fact.
As the music played on, Eloise’s sharp gaze never left them. Her mind raced as she watched Anthony and Kate move together with an effortless grace.
Eloise was no fool. There was something stirring between the two, something she couldn’t quite ignore. She had always suspected there was more to Kate’s poised exterior than met the eye, and tonight, she was certain of it.
“Trouble,” Eloise murmured to herself, smiling ruefully.
She had a feeling that her friend was about to enter an entirely new world, and it wasn’t one that would easily let her go.