his sapphire • anthony bridgerton

five • unlikely circumstances

"Simon, no!" Sloan shouted, grabbing his arm and pulling him back. "Please, Simon. I know you did this for her benefit, but she needs time. She will compromise, but she need to come to terms with it. You just threw the rest of her life at her, cousin. Now, please. Who is the man?"

"Bridgerton."

"Bridgerton? Simon... which one?"

"Anthony Bridgerton."

"Simon! He has a mistress!" Sloan shouted, pushing Simon back.

"Be quiet, Sloan! I made sure he will not defile her."

"He already has!" She shot back. "Simon. Give her some time." Sloan sighed, leading the upset Duke back into the estate.

•••
Now, across the gardens, the young Addington sits at the pond. Tears falling down her perfect skin. But, little did she know, she had a visitor.
•••

"Nola...?" She quickly spun around, trying to quickly hide the tear drops from sight. "Lady Addington, what is the matter? Are you hurt?" Anthony questioned, hopping off his horse, removing his top hat while in presence of the young girl, who he knew would soon be his bride.

"No, no. I am perfectly fine, Lord Bridgerton. No problem here." She responded, trying her best to sound even more cheery than usual. It wasn't lady like to cry in front of a man. "Just wanted to take a look at the pond. Quite lovely, is it not?"

"Quite, but I say the company it keeps is even more appealing." Her cheeks grew a bright crimson, "should you be this far without a chaperone? Where is the Duke?" Anthony spun around, now questioning if this was a test set up by his dear friend.

"My lord, are you alright?" His eyes narrowed, now catching glimpse of the wetness on her cheek in the sunlight.

"Nola..." he mumbled, walking up to the girl. "What is wrong? Please. I wish to know."

"Am I truly too homely? What seems to be the matter with me, Anthony? I tried my hardest..." his eyes narrowed in confusion, seeming to question what she truly meant. "No one wishes to marry nor even make the effort to address me, my lord. Did I do something wrong?"

"No, no. My lady, you've done everything quite... quite right." He knew he needed her to trust him... to love him. No doubt he felt attracted to her, and could feel the feelings budding. "You, Nola, are the most beautiful and desirable woman in England, and if everyone else doesn't see that, then they're all bloody fools." He stated, seeing her body stiffen.

"My lord..." she began, unable to find the correct words.

"No, listen to me." He demanded, stalking up to her frail form, and taking her delicate face in his hands.

"My lord if anyone were to see us..." she panicked, grabbing at his hands.

"Let them see."

"What... whatever do you mean?" She looked up and finally met his gaze. Feeling a new feeling, yet it felt so good.

"Listen," his voice was strong and stern, "and listen well because I will only speak these words once. I burn for you, Nola. It's the most maddening, beguiling, damnable thing, but there it is. And if I hear one more word of nonsense from your lips, I'm going to have to tie you to the bloody bed and have my way with you a hundred different ways, until you finally get it through your silly skull that you are the most desirable woman in all of England, and anyone who doesn't recognize it is a fool." He spat, never breaking his gaze.

Nola looked up in bewilderment. Unsure of how to respond, and slightly confused. He felt an array of feelings, but the most noticeable was the feeling of butterflies flapping in her stomach. It was quite uncomfortable. "My lord... why must you lie to me in such a way?" She stuttered, the sound of an oncoming wave of panic and disappointment flooding her voice,

"Why would I lie about something as serious as my attraction to you?" His eyes moved to her lips, slowly feeling the pull of attraction, begging her to connect them with his.

Nola longed for the feeling, and something was telling her to go along, before she whispered, "we only just met, Anthony." With a sigh.

The more he thought of his own words, the more he looked at Nola in a new light. He barely knew this woman. What was her favorite color? Does she want children? Does she have any odd aspirations? Yet, none of that seemed to matter anymore. He was no fool; he knew that love existed. But he also believed in
the power of the mind, and perhaps even more importantly, the power of the will. Frankly, he saw no reason why love should be an involuntary thing.If he didn't want to fall in love, then by damn, he wasn't going to. It was as simple as that. It had to be as simple as that. If there was one thing he knew,

He adored this woman.
He needed this woman.