Chapter 8

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Charlotte's 24th Birthday

Bridgerton House, London

Anthony was at the entrance of the gardens of Kensington Palace, staring at his children, who were playing not so far from his line of sight, amongst themselves and with their cousins. With them, was a white dog, who couldn't stop barking or moving its tail with its tongue out. A satisfied smile graced the Viscount's face as he let out a sigh of relief, and relaxation.

"Lord Bridgerton," he closed his eyes as he enjoyed the sensation of having his wife's arms wrapping around his waist from behind.

"Lady Bridgerton," he turned around, without his wife letting go of the embrace, as he cupped her face in his hands. "My dear, you look so desirable this afternoon."

"Oh, you always say I that, my lord," she chuckled softly. "I just finished getting ready to attend today's duties."

"Motherly-duties, or royal duties?" He asked, and she sighed. "Come on, Char. I thought you were staying in all day."

"I was, but something came up at the palace, and George needs me to assist him," she said sincerely. "Besides, you barely leave your study these days. I'm quite surprised to see you out here taking a bit of sun."

"Was I getting too pale to your liking?" He asked with a smirk, and she chuckled softly. "All week I have just been checking if everything was in order for Hyacinth's social season."

"Oh, how the years have gone by, Anthony," she sighed contently as she rested her body against him, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him. "I still remember participating in my first and only social season."

"I will never forget the day I saw you walking down that carpet in the throne room, all confident and undeniably perfect," he spoke softly as a smile slowly grew on his face. "That day, in that very moment, out of the blue, I realized...that I loved you."

Without waiting for her to react to his previous words, Anthony crashed his lips on hers. Whatever he was feeling, it was addictive. He was so hooked. She kissed him back, and to him, it was probably the best feeling in the world, because he knew she loved him too. And when he drew back from her lips, he stared into her eyes, those perfect eyes he has always adored.

"I'm afraid you are not the only one who loves me, Anthony," she whispered.

He started to feel sick as she untangled herself from his hold, and walked away from him. A cold breeze and an uneasy feeling urged him to follow her, and he did. Charlotte picked up the pace as she lifted her dress up a bit and jogged away from the Viscount. Anthony followed her inside the palace, through all the halls, until she slowed down and entered in one of the many rooms.

When he entered too, he saw her standing behind a canvas. She was staring at it, until the person behind the canvas stood up and faced her. It was the one and only, Benedict Bridgerton, the second eldest of the family. He wrapped his arms around Charlotte, lifted her, and twirled her around. Her loud giggles turned into a joyous laugh as they kept twirling, until he stopped.

"Good afternoon, my love," he whispered, and immediately kissed her.

Benedict's hands traveled down to her hips as hers tangled themselves in his hair. She kissed him back, but pulled away after. Their lips brushed against one another's as she whispered something to him. That's when Benedict turned his head to the left and saw his eldest brother staring at them with horror and confusion written all over his face.

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