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Anthony knew his mother never expected him to call her bluff.
His mother wanted all of her children to find the sort of love match she had – especially after Daphne had married Hastings last season. She wanted all of them to endure – or to force their spouses to endure – the same grief she had after his father’s death.
No.
Anthony would not do such a thing.
An arranged marriage was fine with him. One of her old friends had a spinster stepdaughter of childbearing age who didn’t seem opposed to the concept. Per his mother’s report, the young lady (she was, after all, still younger than he was, and he refused to think of himself as an old man) was intelligent, capable, cultured, educated, and more than willing to take on the responsibilities of a Viscountess.
(He ignored that she agreed to this to try to arrange a more advantageous match for her sister; that hardly signified. She could do as she wished after the wedding.)
His siblings were, predictably, adamantly opposed to the idea.
Benedict, for one, made no secret of his desire to fall deeply in love – the sort of love the poets described. Anthony hadn’t expected Benedict to react any differently. Benedict was Benedict – he was a hopeless romantic who thought the entire world deserved the sort of love their parents had shared.
Benedict hadn’t seen their father die. He hadn’t been forced into the responsibility Anthony had. He had occupied himself with his schooling and with their younger siblings.
(That was hardly to say that Benedict was unaffected by their father’s death – Anthony would never be so cruel to suggest such a thing. But he knew their father’s death had affected them all in different ways.)
Benedict thought Anthony was being ridiculous.
So did Colin. And Daphne.
Eloise said this was yet another sign of how men could do as they pleased and the women would be the ones to bear the weight of such decisions.
Francesca, Hyacinth, and even Gregory didn’t understand. They’d all hoped he’d find love too. As if that were what really mattered.
He had the love of his family. He would love any children he would be blessed to have.
He didn’t need to love his wife.
Of course, the aristocracy wasn’t so backward as to prevent two potential spouses from meeting before their wedding day.
Their first meeting was chaperoned at Lady Danbury’s home. Lady Danbury was sponsoring his fiancée and her sister – but more so the sister.
He greeted Lady Danbury with enthusiasm, answered her questions about Daphne, Simon, and baby Augie, and waited to be introduced.
The two young ladies in the drawing room were both rather beautiful, though he suspected the more beautiful of the two was not his fiancée. She seemed younger, barely more than a child, and he knew he was meant to marry the elder of the two sisters.
“Lord Bridgerton,” Lady Danbury said, “May I introduce Lady Mary Sharma, and her two daughters: Miss Sharma, and Miss Edwina Sharma?”
Anthony bowed. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Miss Sharma regarded him with a critical eye. “I would like to be clear, my lord, that I will not tolerate foolishness.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Miss Sharma. This shall be a business arrangement. I will get a wife, and you will enhance your sister’s odds on the marriage mart.”
Miss Sharma nodded. “Very well. Shall we have some tea?”
Miss Edwina caught her sister’s eye. “Didi…”
“It will all be well, bon. I’m sure Lord Bridgerton will have no issue with my sister living in our home.”
“Of course not,” Anthony said. He turned to Miss Edwina. “Miss Edwina, I do hope in time that you will look to me as an elder brother. I believe I have done quite well by all of my siblings, and I fully intend to do well by you, as well.”
“I certainly hope so,” Miss Sharma said.
-
They were married two months later.
A week after that, Anthony began to worry that he’d made a horrible mistake.
Surprisingly, Miss Edwina had caused no trouble at all. She was genial, clever, and got on quite well with Francesca and Eloise. It became commonplace to watch Edwina and Francesca practise their instruments together.
The problem was Kate – formerly known as Miss Sharma. His wife. The Viscountess.
Oh, she’d allowed him to bed him to consummate their marriage – she’d had no qualms about that (and, as a gentleman, he’d ensure that she’d enjoyed the affair, as well). And she was a good viscountess, so far. She had had little difficulty in adjusting to the running of the household.
He didn’t even mind that she spent a significant amount of her time bonding with Eloise over women’s struggles, or that she didn’t care if he could understand her conversations with her sister, or that she borrowed his best horse for early morning (unchaperoned!) rides in the park.
He minded that she was the most stubborn, infuriating, managing woman in the world.
No wonder she hadn’t been able to marry before.
She blatantly ignored his authority on all things. Whenever he would confront her about such a breach of propriety, she simply retorted that the English were backward and that she didn’t have to do things exactly as he asked.
Benedict and Colin found the whole ordeal amusing.
“I should have known better than to think the perfect viscountess would drop into my lap,” he complained in his study. He knew better than to voice such things publicly.
The gossip in this town was vicious, and women always received the worst of it. Infuriating though Kate was, he didn’t want any of his family being on the receiving end of a scandal.
“I think she’s a perfect match for you, actually,” Benedict said, laughing.
“You said I shouldn’t marry a woman for any reason other than love!”
“Which is true, but since you were so insistent on going through with this whole ridiculous thing – do you really want a woman you can cow into submission? Some simpering creature who needs your approval for every little thing?”
Benedict, infuriatingly, had a point. “When did you become such a master of human nature?”
“All artists must be aware of the human condition,” Benedict said.
“He’s got a point,” Colin agreed. “And you’re the one who agreed to send him to study art, so it hardly seems as if you disapprove.”
“Oh, shut up,” Anthony said.
Benedict and Colin shared a grin. Why even have brothers, when they could end up like this?
Colin spoke up again. “Honestly, I think the two of you are incredibly well-suited. Loath as I am to agree with Benedict twice in one night: you wanted a woman who was capable of being your viscountess. Kate is.”
“It’s not her fault you neglected to probe into her deeper nature before marriage.”
Colin nodded. “I’m sure Edwina would have told you if you’d asked.”
He hated when they had a point. “There’s little I can do about that now.”
“You’ll just have to get through it,” Benedict said. “Maybe bed her more often. Women like it just as much as we do, they just don’t want to admit it. Or you could always try your hand at poetry.”
“I’m not taking advice from a man who has never been married.”
“Then why not ask Hastings?”
It was, annoyingly, a good idea.
-
Hastings was little help. The man was maddeningly in love with Daphne – which was a good thing, Anthony reminded himself. Just because he didn’t need a loving marriage didn’t mean that he wished his siblings anything short of love and joy.
“You’ve met Daphne, haven’t you?” Hastings asked. “You think I’ve no experience with women who insist on managing me?”
“So what do you do?” He didn’t tell him that Kate was worse than Daphne; he wasn’t fully sure that was the case (Kate and Daphne did get on alarmingly well).
Hastings only shrugged. “I let her.”
“You what?”
“Not in everything, but on matters that are truly important to her. It’s different for me – I love Daphne. She’s my best friend. You and Lady Bridgerton are effectively strangers. I would suggest getting to know her, determine on which matters she is willing to compromise, and go from there.”
“She’s not willing to compromise on anything!” That was the entire problem! He’d married the most unreasonable woman he’d ever met!
“Is that the truth, or are you unwilling to compromise on anything?”
-
He danced with Kate at every ball of the season. She was beautiful; if only she weren’t so damn infuriating.
“I really think Lord Lumley is an excellent match for Edwina,” she said over lemonade.
“He’d be acceptable,” Anthony agreed, trying to keep Hastings’ advice in mind. “But don’t you think Edwina can choose for herself?”
“Spoken by the man who tried to marry his sister off to a man who didn’t even support his bastard.”
Anthony flushed. Of course Daphne had told her – or if not Daphne, Eloise. “I didn’t know about Berbrooke at the time.”
“But you certainly didn’t let Daphne make up her own mind on who she wanted to be with.”
“She is disgustingly happy with Hastings.”
“In spite of your best efforts, not because of them.”
He realised they were falling into the same pattern. He took a deep breath. He needed to steady himself. “I made a mistake with Daphne. It isn’t one I intend to repeat.”
Kate looked taken aback. As if Anthony were incapable of admitting when he was wrong! “I see,” she said.
“What would you suggest?”
“Pardon me?”
“With Edwina. You do want her to be happy, do you not?”
“Of course I do! She is my sister!”
“So what would you suggest?”
“Lord Lumley seems to be a good match, but of course if Edwina is not interested, we shall find someone else.”
“Indeed,” he agreed. “For the record, I’ve had my solicitor look into Lumley. I do not intend to repeat the mistakes I made with Daphne.”
“And?”
“He appears adequate. Nothing really sets him quite apart from the rest of the eligible young men in the ton, but there are no scandals attached to his name.”
“You think Edwina deserves better,” she said in a whisper. As if this were a shock!
“Of course I do. She is my sister as well, is she not?”
For once, Kate seemed to be at a loss for words.
-
He knew that the key to gaining Kate’s respect was Edwina. Edwina, and her seeking a good match, had been her primary condition of her marriage to Anthony.
Anthony was still a bit surprised at how gentle, proper, and accomplished Edwina was, particularly in comparison to her bull-headed sisster. A voice in the back of his mind reminded him that Kate was responsible for most of that – perhaps not her natural disposition, but surely her manners and accomplishments.
He took her for a ride through Hyde Park.
“I must say, I am quite glad that Kate has married you,” Edwina said without any prompting.
He nodded. “Yes, you do seem to get along quite well with my sisters,” he said. “Though, of course, I have grown to view you as a sister, as well.”
“I am most grateful for that,” she said, nodding. “I have always wanted an elder brother – but most of all, I want my sister to be happy.”
Her aspirations of her sister’s happiness didn’t surprise him, but what did surprise him was the implication that he had brought about Kate’s happiness – or that he was in any way responsible for it.
“You think I am responsible for Kate’s happiness?”
“You are her husband. Arranged marriages are quite common – that does not mean true friendship and even love cannot come out of such a union.”
“She seems to get along with my sisters, at least.”
“My lord, you must understand… my sister has spent her entire life doing whatever she could to see to my happiness. Now that she is wed, I can do what little is in my power to see to her happiness. Kate is not accustomed to thinking about herself. Once I am married… I do not want to see her lose her purpose in life.”
He hadn’t considered that. He and Kate were quite similar in that. “I think your sister and I have that in common,” he said quietly. “I would do anything for any of my siblings. That does include you, Edwina.”
“You should tell my sister that,” Edwina said, and spurred her horse on.
-
When the heat and air of London became too much to bear, the ton took to the countryside. The Bridgertons were no exception.
The entire family, including Edwina and Kate, went to Aubrey Hall to enjoy the mild Kentish weather. Daphne and Hastings – and baby Augie – accompanied them, of course. It would be, Anthony reflected in the carriage with his mother, Kate, and Edwina, pleasant to have everyone together.
Of course, there would be a ball. There was always a ball in the countryside.
They would have a week to themselves. Lady Danbury had promised to come out a few days ahead, and of course there were the visits to be paid to their neighbours and the tenants. Kate would accompany him on those.
He hoped they managed to avoid sniping at each other. Something in her brought out a side in him he hadn’t known he’d had.
She glanced away from the window to look at him.
There was still the small matter of an heir, too, for that matter.
-
As it turned out, he didn’t even have to ask Kate to come with him to visit the tenants. She was waiting for him in the sitting room that separated their quarters.
“You’re awake,” she said. “I thought we’d get an early start. I hope you weren’t trying to avoid me.”
“I would never,” he assured her.
She simply looked at him. “While I have you privately, I do want to ensure you’re aware that my courses are meant to begin tomorrow.”
He nodded. If she began her courses, that would mean another attempt for an heir. Truthfully, she didn’t seem to mind bedding him at all – and it was the one situation where he found her competitiveness and stubbornness enoraging rather than frustrating.
But he had no business thinking of that while preparing to visit the tenant farmers.
“Shall we be on our way?” she asked.
He nodded and offered her his arm.
-
That afternoon was the pall mall match. Everyone was already in town, and he and Kate had returned from a quite successful round of visits to the tenants.
Kate was, despite all Anthony’s frustrations, quite a perfect viscountess. She’d been warm and open with the tenants, had listened to their concerns and played with their babies.
When they arrived home, she’d followed him right into his study, and just as he’d been ready to remind her that a man’s study was private, she’d rattled off the complete list of improvements that needed to be done to the tenants’ farms. He’d scrambled to grab a pen.
“I must admit,” he’d said as he’d written down another suggestion, “you are a most competent viscountess.”
“Thank you,” she’d said. “I must admit that you are a much more competent viscount than your reputation gives you credit for.”
“My reputation?”
“That of an unreformable rake, my lord,” Kate had said.
He’d known better than to lash out. He’d been practising. “I have not defied our wedding vows,” he’d said.
“That’s reassuring, but I was more concerned that your lack of caring about anything included your responsibilities. I’m glad to be proven wrong.”
It was an olive branch, he’d realised. “I’m glad to have proven you wrong.”
Of course, the olive branch had been thrown out the minute they’d started placing the wickets for pall mall.
“You know the point, of course,” Daphne was saying. “A wise player plays his or her opponent, not the game.”
“Of course,” Kate echoed, a frightening glint in her eyes.
“I think I shall sit with our mothers and Lady Danbury,” Edwina said. “Perhaps Francesca may take my place.”
“You can certainly ask her,” Daphne allowed. “We can be quite a bloodthirsty lot. I wouldn’t be surprised if she wanted to stay in and practise the pianoforte.”
Edwina nodded and scurried off.
“I shall win of course,” Anthony said.
Daphne scoffed. “Nonsense. I shall win.”
“I think I shall win,” Kate said.
As it turned out, Daphne was right, but privately, Anthony rather found prying his wife from a mud pit more entertaining than winning pall mall.
Privately.
-
The ball was a few nights later, and the house was such a flurry of activity that Anthony gladly took the excuse to get out of the house and start negotiating the tenants’ requests. There were more terrifying things than tenants’ long lists of repairs, among them his mother, wife, and sister (Daphne, that is, not Eloise or Francesca or Hyacinth) joining forces.
When the ball did come, Anthony was happy to report that it seemed like any other.
Except this time, after he danced the first dance with his wife, he noticed Penelope Featherington off to the side. In a moment of compassion, he strode over to her.
“May I have the next dance, Miss Featherington?”
Penelope blushed. He wasn’t the gentleman she had her eye on, he was sure, but he was still a gentleman offering a dance – and a Bridgerton at that. “I’d be delighted, my lord.”
He smiled at her. “Enough of that ‘my lord’ – you’re nearly family. You and Eloise are inseparable. You may address me as Anthony.”
She smiled right back. “Very well, Anthony. I would be delighted to dance.”
It wasn’t anything as intimate as a waltz, but Penelope Featherington was a fine dancer. If only her mother would dress her in better clothes, she would have far better luck on the marriage mart. A dowry wasn’t everything; there were a number of eligible young men who were not in need of additional funds.
When he saw her back to the refreshments table, he noticed Kate staring at him.
She was smiling.
He smiled back.
-
A week after the ball, Kate called him to her private sitting room.
“There is something I must tell you,” she said as he sat down.
His mind immediately went to Edwina. “Is Edwina all right? Or has it to do with her marriage prospects?”
She smiled, but shook her head. “It has nothing to do with Edwina. She is as she ever was. I think Lord Lumley may approach you at the next house party, but…” She trailed off. “It is not Edwina.”
“Then what is it?” He reached for her hand. “Are you well?”
She nodded. “I am. It is just that… my courses are late.”
That was significant. If her courses came, she wouldn’t have a baby. “Does this mean you are with child?”
“I am not yet sure – my mother says that we should wait another month before telling anyone else – but it is quite likely.”
He didn’t know what overcame him, but he rushed to hug her. “A child!”
“A child,” she agreed, stroking his hair. The action was oddly intimate. “I was thinking… if we have a boy… perhaps Edmund? In honour of your father.”
His heart skipped a beat. “Edmund,” he rasped. “Yes. Yes, that’s a wonderful name.”
And she was a wonderful viscountess.
He wondered whether his mother had been wrong, after all.