𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 - 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀

A Bee In Your Bonnet

I DO NOT OWN ANY SINGLE ONE OF THESE CHARACTERS. THE PLOT MORE OR LESS HINGES ON THE BOOKS, THE NETFLIX SHOW AND A SMALL PORTION OF MY IMAGINATION.

An artist must be free to follow their muse. But it appears the ton has fallen prey to the fickleness of fashion. For how else might one explain the tawdry, dare I say vulgar, gown sported lately by Miss Cressida Cowper? Mayfair's newest modiste has one thing, and one thing only, going for her. She is new. Whereas Madame Delacroix might be old, but at least she is capable. Of course, not everyone can always get things so right. Though I suppose, for some, it may be simply too late to change course and undo any damage.

Kate was riding on her chestnut horse, enjoying the light breeze and the hint of pollen in the air. She stopped at the entrance of the lush Aubrey Hall gardens. A footman approached her and guided the horse back to the stable. She spotted Anthony Bridgerton walking as his eyes too landed on her.

'My lord.' She curtsied.

'Miss Sharma. Is your sister . . . '

'She is in her room. Not feeling her best this morning, it seems,' she finished crossly.

'I did not mean to disappoint her last night when I did not declare myself. And I'd like to thank you for not . . . She shall not be disappointed for long. Assure her, I still intend to propose. Last night was a lark, at best. My brothers were up to no good, and with everyone sitting there, staring back at me, well . . . my feelings would not allow me to speak.'

Kate was admonished, to say the least. First he courted her sister to spite and now he was too afraid to propose. 'So your feelings are too strong for you now?'

'Miss Sharma . . . '

'No. No. All you are doing, my lord, is toying with the emotions of an impressionable young lady.'

'Miss Edwina seems perfectly capable of forming her own impressions. If you took notice . . . '

'So now you claim to know my sister better than me?'

'I know she wishes to be happy,' he replied bitterly.

'This is precisely what I wish for her. I can assure you, happiness is not your strength. Exasperation, perhaps. Fixation, most definitely. The only feeling you are, in fact, capable of engendering, my lord, is that of discontent.'

'Kate, I—'

She'd never know what he meant to say. In all truth, he wasn't even sure what he intended to say. He hadn't even realized that he was going to speak until her name passed over his lips.

But his words would remain forever unspoken, because at that moment, he heard it.

A low buzz. A whine, really. It was the sort of sound most people found mildly annoying.

Nothing, to Anthony, could have been more terrifying.

'Don't move,' he whispered, his voice harsh with fear.

Kate's eyes narrowed, and of course she moved, trying to twist about. 'What are you talking about? What is wrong?'

'Just don't move,' he repeated.

Her eyes slid to the left, then her chin followed by a quarter of an inch or so. 'Oh, it's just a bee!' Her face broke out in a relieved grin, and she lifted her hand to swat it away. 'For goodness' sake, don't do that again. You had me scared for a moment.'

Anthony's hand shot out and grasped her wrist with painful force. 'I said don't move,' he hissed.

'My lord,' she said, laughing, 'it's a bee.'