Chapter Text
It would seem, Gentle Reader, that the Viscountess Bridgerton’s exceptional talent for matchmaking has struck again. Far more exceptionally, the rare occurrence has arisen in which this Author must publish a correction.
It had previously been reported in this publication that Lord Anthony Bridgerton has spent the last fortnight courting one Edwina Sheffield. Who, for those amongst this readership who have been living under a rock, is this season’s Incomparable. A fine match indeed, many would say.
However, in what I assure you, Gentle Reader, is a once in a lifetime phenomenon, it would appear that this Author was incorrect.
At least, that is what is what guests discovered at Lady Bridgerton’s annual musicale last night. Where it was announced by the Viscount himself that he and Miss Katharine Sheffield, the Incomparable’s elder sister, are to be wed in a fortnight’s time. In a thrilling turn of events, it has been revealed that their whirlwind romance has already culminated in a marriage proposal. A love-match indeed.
Or at least, that is what they say. Only time will tell. Rest assured, Gentle Reader, when the truth comes out, this Author shall be the first to know.
LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 27 APRIL 1814
“Kate, dearest, are you in here?”
When Mary Sheffield had received the letter inviting them to Bridgerton House that evening, this is not how she had expected the night to go. She had expected beautiful music, fine dining, perhaps a bit of not-so-subtle matchmaking. Not inconspicuously wandering the halls of Bridgerton House trying to track down a daughter who had seemingly vanished into mid-air.
What was that girl thinking? Lady Bridgerton had been gracious enough to extend to them an invitation and Kate had to go and get lost in her house in return? Causing Mary to have to look behind every door she could find. She had definitely seen Kate leave in this direction, the girl had to be there somewhere.
Most of all, what Mary Sheffield had not expected when she opened the door at the end of the hall was to be met with the sight of her daughter locked in a heated embrace with one Anthony Bridgerton. The most eligible bachelor of the season. A viscount of high renown and good breeding. A man who currently had his hands firmly planted on her daughter’s -
Oh Sweet Lord.
The three stood there in stunned silence for what felt like an age. Well, that’s not entirely true. Kate had at least had the good sense to push the Viscount off of her. Shoving him so forcefully that if had not been the chair behind him that allowed him to catch his balance, he surely would’ve fallen to the ground. It was too late, of course, the damage had already been done. There was no denying what the two of them had just been doing. What they might have been about to do if they had not been interrupted.
Mary was the first speak, her tone as cold as a December morning. “Katharine. Wait outside.”
But the objections were already flowing out if Kate’s mouth. Desperate to explain the whole ugliness away. “Mary, this isn’t what you think.”
But her protests fell on death ears. “Outside. Now.”
For the first time since Anthony had met her, Kate made no retort. Instead, she simply nodded curtly, clearly unable to bring herself to look her step-mother in the eye. Never would he have pegged Kate as the type to yield so easily. The wind knocked out of her, she slowly made her way to the door. If he hadn’t been watching her as she went, he surely would’ve missed it when she glanced over her shoulder to look at him. With an expression on her face that he couldn’t quite name.
And, just like that, she was gone, the door firmly closed behind her. Leaving him to face her step-mother’s wrath alone. “Mrs Sheffield, I-“
“How dare you!” To say that she was angry would be an understatement. In that moment Mary Sheffield was the very personification of a woman scorned. If he didn’t know any better, Anthony would have thought that she was about to punch him in the face.
“If were a man-“ She paused. As enraged as she was, that still didn’t mean that she had to stoop down to the use of profanity. “You are fortunate that my husband is not alive to see this. He surely would have struck you down where you stood.” He did not doubt. If his wife and daughter’s fury were any indication, the late Miles Sheffield must have been a formidable man indeed.
Mary stopped, forcing herself to inhale and to think rationally. Yelling and chastising would get them nowhere. And, if she was going to salvage Kate’s dignity, what she needed was the truth. “Exactly what liberties have you taken with my daughter?”
Anthony just stared at her dumbly, stunned by her how brazenly she had asked him that. Never before had he seen a mother speak so plainly on a matter such as this. How in the hell was he supposed to answer the question with her looking at him?
His stunned silence was clearly not the response Mary had been looking for, prompting her to ask again. “Have you forgotten how to speak? I asked you a question, boy.”
He cleared his throat, his wits finally coming back to him. “Your daughter’s virtue remains intact, if that is what you are alluding to.” Goodness, Kate had been right, it was impossible to look this woman in the eye.
“Well, thank goodness for that.” At the very least, there was no chance that Kate could be with child. One less thing to worry about.
A beat passed before she waved at him with a matter of fact air about her. “Obviously, the two of you will have to marry.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Mary frowned, clearly confused. For some reason he thought the matter was to be discussed further. “This is not up for debate. You will marry her and that is final.”
It was beginning to dawn on Mary that she was going to spell it out for him. And here she thought she was speaking to an Oxford Man. He surely must have understood the gravity of this situation. He was the head of his own household, after all. And yet, she clearly was going to have to do this the hard way. “Or, we can call your mother up here and ask her what she thinks.”
That seemed to grab his attention, so she continued. “If you agree now, then we can spare her the pain of knowing of the ugliness that transpired here. Neither of us wish to see her opinion of you diminished.” Her tone softened. She spoke with a gentleness that he might have used when speaking to Hyacinth. Except, in this scenario, he was the child. “If she were here, you know that she would tell you the exact same thing. The two of you must marry.” She was right of course; the Sheffield women clearly had a propensity for it.
Of course his mother would take the same view. Any sane and rational person would. But no sane or rational person would have allowed themselves to end up in this mess to start with.
What had he been thinking? Kissing her like that? He must be going mad, surely, that is the only logical explanation. Yes, that was it, he was mental. Driven insane by the heat of the moment, the romantic hues of candlelight, the maddening scent of soap and lilies. There was no other way. “What of Kate? She’ll never agree to the match.”
His concern for Kate’s wellbeing seemed to surprise her step-mother. After-all, it’s not like the girl had any actual say in the matter. Most men wouldn’t give the bride-to-be’s opinion a second thought. Admittedly, it wasn’t too long ago that Anthony had the exact same mindset.
But that was before Daphne’s season. The thought still made him cringe. He had been so certain then, so self-assured. So confident was he in his judge of character that he had almost let his sister marry that brute Berbrooke. Even when she had made her objection to the match abundantly clear. If it hadn’t been for Simon...
That day Anthony swore that never again would he assume to know better than his sisters when it came to their future. Especially their groom. He would not make the same mistake twice.
“Kate is a wise girl. Eventually she will see sense.”
Mary’s words may have been true, but that did not make the idea any more palatable. Because why should Kate be any different? If he was willing to hold his sisters’ opinions with such high regard, then shouldn’t he afford Kate the same courtesy? Did the girl not deserve that? “I am sorry, Mrs Sheffield, but that is not enough for me.”
Even if he could not allow himself to marry Kate, he could still protect her reputation. He could still offer his reassurance. “You have my word as a gentleman, the events that have transpired here shall never leave this room. I will take it to my grave.”
Shaking her head, Mary crossed her arms across her chest. “That is not enough for me and you know it.”
He knew what she meant by that, of course. But still, he feigned ignorance. “If you are worried about the financial implications-“
Mary wouldn’t even entertain the idea. “All the money in the world will not be able to buy back my girls’ reputation should word get out. Even if it could, my integrity is not for sale.”
At least she was a woman of principle. Anthony had to give her that. Still, mere principles would not be enough to rectify matters. “Well then it would seem we are at an impasse.”
Obviously, Mary did not agree. In her eyes, the discussion was far from over. “The last I remember, you have three sisters who are unwed, do you not?” She didn’t need to say more than that, Anthony already knew what she was alluding to. It was all too clear. “I hate to think what would happen to their prospects if word should get out what has transpired here.”
His demeanour stiffened, straightening his spine as he stood at his full height. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Wouldn’t I?” She chuffed. “Rest assured, if my daughter is to fall, then I shall drag each and every one of you Bridgertons down with her.”
To threaten him was one thing. But his family? That was where Anthony Bridgerton drew the line. “Need I remind you who our family is? Or of our social standing? We can weather any storm thrown our way much better than you.”
Most people would have buckled under the pressure by now and bowed down to his authority. But the Sheffields were not most people; Mary would not flinch. “Perhaps, but after the near-miss with Marina Thompson last year, is that truly a risk that your sisters can afford to take?”
Far from flinching, she held her ground, looking him straight in the eye as she spoke. “You are a Bridgerton. Your name is everything. You have everything.”
There was no intimidating Mary Sheffield, not with so much at stake. That as much was clear. “But that is the fundamental difference between between my family and your’s; we have nothing left to lose.”
What was the saying? The bigger the tree, the harder she falls. It had taken his family decades to build their reputation and here he was about to see it destroyed. All because he had his mind set on some ill-sighted flirtation. “You should know that I do not take kindly to threats, Mrs Sheffield.”
“Nor do I take kindly to the man who would leave my oldest daughter ruined.” She stepped forward, every bit imposing despite her small stature. Soon enough she had closed the gap between them, till they were standing eye to eye. “Make no mistake, she is my daughter, sir. In every sense of the word. I could not love that girl more than if I had birthed her myself.”
Were it any other person, Anthony would have thought that she were doing this for money, for power. That Kate was just a means to an end to gain access to their family. The scheming mamas of the ton had their reputations for a reason.
But not Mary. No, definitely not. Her motivations were anything but self-serving.
She was doing this for love.
“So believe me when I tell you that there is nothing I would not do to protect her.” He didn’t doubt that. Not for a moment. “And if that includes burning you to the ground, then so be it.”
It was strange. Impossible, given the fact they weren’t blood. But in that moment, with that burning gaze, Mary looked exactly like her eldest daughter.
“So what will it be?”
Kate had no idea how long she had been waiting in that hallway for. Nor how long she had been pacing back and forth, eyes constantly flitting back to the door. She barely had idea how she ended up there in the first place.
He had kissed her. Anthony Bridgerton had kissed her. But what was more vexing was the fact that she had let him.
Obviously she wouldn’t have let the kiss go any further than that. Kate wasn’t an idiot, she knew that he held no true feelings for her, no underlying affection. The rake clearly had wanted to get a rise out of her. Why else wouldn’t he have left the study second he realised that they were in there unchaperoned? He had chosen not to leave. He had chosen to stop to her from doing so.
She was going to put a stop to it. Eventually. In spite of his ghastly personality and sordid past, the man was still handsome. Even more so up close. Kate had eyes. Was it wrong to admit that she had been the tiniest bit curious? To want to know what is like? Surely there were worse kissers in London. If she was only going to have the one kiss in her life, at least it would be from someone who knew what they were doing.
But all reason had gone out the window once the idiot had actually done it. All she had wanted was a peck, a taste of what it was like. Just for her own edification. Yet, in the heat of the moment, the wave of feelings took over her. Overwhelmed by something she had never felt before. A morbid curiosity of sorts. Some deep stab of something.
Good God, was it something.
The sharp clicking of the door opening called Kate back to reality. Mary walked into the hallway first, the Viscount not long behind her. “Well?”
Mary cast a cursory glance back at Anthony before answering, half-expecting an objection of some sort. But, as she had hoped, he simply nodded. “It is settled.”
She wanted to sigh from relief. Thank God for Mary, she always knew what to do. Soon they could just forget this whole ordeal ever- “You and Lord Bridgerton are to be married in a fortnight. We will go downstairs to announce it now.”
Wait, what?
Kate nearly laughed, so baffled by the words that just left Mary’s mouth. The very idea seeming ludicrous to her. “You cannot be serious.”
But, unfortunately, she was. “Deadly.” Mary made no attempt to hide her disapproving tone. She didn’t care how old they were. If the two of them were going to act like children, then she would chastise them like children. “You two are fortunate that it was only I who stumbled upon you. God knows what could have happened if someone else had.”
“Exactly, nobody knows but us.” The gravitas of Mary’s announcement seemed to have finally dawned on Kate. And it was clear that she was not going to roll over and accept it, not until every other avenue had been explored. “Each of us stands to suffer should the news come out. All the more guarantee that it never will.”
Mary sighed, the stress of the ordeal having begun to take its toll on her. “People talk, my darling. We cannot know who else noticed your absence or was walking the halls.” For all they knew, someone had already rushed downstairs to tell all of the guests. While there was still even a chance that someone else had seen them, Mary could not take that risk. Not when her daughters’ futures were at stake.
“But what of Edwina?” Kate was scrambling now. Grasping desperately for any argument or rationale, no matter how trivial, to avoid the inevitable. “Whistledown has already published details of their courtship. People are bound to speculate.” It was a flimsy argument, she knew that. But she was willing to try anything, if it would prevent their marriage. That she made quite clear. Under different circumstances, Anthony would’ve appreciated the brutal honesty.
“Whistledown is not omnipotent. If asked, we will simply say that she was mistaken as to which Miss Sheffield the Viscount was courting. It shall be our word against hers.” Mary made a fair point, Anthony realised. By tweaking just a few minor details, it would be easy for an outsider to believe that he and Kate had been the ones who were courting all along. Their waltz at the Hartside ball, the flowers to her house, their walk in Hyde Park, to name a few. It would be easy. The story practically wrote itself.
But this meant nothing to Kate, who was now on the verge of tears. Somehow Anthony knew that this was a rare sight indeed. She was the Indomitable Kate Sheffield. The brave and bullish bane of his existence. She wasn’t meant to cry. Certainly not over him. “You cannot force me to do this.” The words were more for herself than anyone else. “I can’t. I won’t.”
Mary’s steely expression softened, no longer able to keep up the stern matronly glare. This was her daughter. In many ways, her first love. Mary would never knowingly do anything that could cause her unhappiness. But, as much as it pained her to do it, she had to do right by her girl. Even if Kate would hate her for it.
“Katharine, think of your sister. Of yourself. I promised your father that I would protect your girls and that is exactly what I am doing.” Reaching out to cup her face, Mary wiped away a stray tear that rolled down Kate’s cheek. Until now, she could have counted the number of times she had seen her daughter cry on one hand. “This is the only way.”
It wasn’t clear who Mary was trying to convince more; her daughter or herself.
Finally, Kate’s eyes fell on Anthony. It was the first time since this whole debate began that she had actually deemed to look at him. Perhaps she hoped, that by refusing to acknowledge his presence, it would allow them to prolong the inevitable. “Why aren’t you saying something?” She asked suddenly. Her voice grew even more frantic as she gestured to Mary. “Tell her we don’t have to do this.”
For the rest of his life, Anthony would never forget the look on her face when she asked him that. The tears streaming down her face. The desperate plea in her eyes. How utterly crushed she was. She looked so young. So heartbroken.
In that moment he would’ve done just about anything if he thought it would’ve have given her the slightest bit of comfort. However, doing that would mean acknowledging the troubling sensation that once more bloomed in his chest. That sharp stab of something. The spark of a feeling that he dare not name. He didn’t want to the think about how the very thought of Kate Sheffield in tears broke his heart. Most of all, he paid no mind to the tiniest, most forbidden part of him that was thrilled by the turn of the events. Nor the louder part of him that hated himself for it.
He couldn’t tell her any of this, of course. Not that Kate would be able to understand it even if he did. How could she? They were strangers to one another. So, naturally, Kate did the only thing she could; she pleaded with him once more.
“Tell her.”
It would be the only time in their relationship that Anthony would see her beg. Somehow, he already knew that. And, yet, he said nothing.
Better she hear that than the truth.
They were married on a Saturday.
Kate doesn’t remember much of it.
From the moment they arrived downstairs and announced the news to a stunned crowd of guests, their entire engagement passed by in a haze.
Perhaps, it made the pretending all the more easier. As she smiled and nodded while Anthony recounted the fanciful details of their courtship. It wasn’t lying, Mary consoled, they were just omitting certain truths. What was true for them did not have to be what was true for everyone else. That’s what Kate told herself as Lady Bridgerton wrapped her in a warm embrace, as all the ton showered her in well wishes and back-handed compliments, and as she greeted each and every one their guests at the engagement ball held in Bridgerton House. Blushing, beguiling and bowing her head all the while, she was every bit the dutiful bride-to-be that was expected of her.
To the outside world, they were the ideal couple. Young and besotted with one another, eager to begin their lives together. An honest to goodness love-match. The kind of story one only read about in novels.
A shame that none of it was real.
None of it even felt real. The whole ceremony passed by as if it was all happening to someone else. The exchanging of the rings. The mumbling of the words “I do”. The chaste kiss as the vicar announced them man and wife. Neither one of them even capable of looking the other in the eye.
Just like that, her fate was sealed.
In an instant, Kate Sheffield was dead and buried. In her place stood Lady Katharine Bridgerton, Viscountess. The second choice. Forever bound to a man who would never truly want her. Doomed to remained shackled together in a loveless marriage until death did them part. And they both knew it.
All because her husband couldn’t double check a fucking lock.