First Impressions // A Bridgerton Story

Chapter 26

"This Author has no words for what has occurred today, on a day that was supposed to be happy and of the most joyous occasions, namely tying two Kingdoms together in a marital, goldenseal instead it seems like England is once again at war.

But one thing is for certain. The declaration of War was worth it".

LADY WHISTLEDOWN'S SOCIETY PAPERS, 23 MAY 1814

It had been an entire week.

The most he'd ever endured had been two. Looking at the glass of brandy in his hand, Anthony tried to quell the way his hand shook.

Christ, he thought, he was desperate for her. For a glimpse, a touch, anything to calm the way her deep amber eyes appeared under his lids whenever he closed his eyes.

It had been an entire week of no mention, not a word, not a reply. He had not even seen her out in the streets upon her great horse he had gifted her, he had gone to the Park every morning, and every afternoon to see if he could catch a glimpse of her.

Shaking his head, Anthony downed the glass with one burning gulp and slammed it down on the table. When a waiter walked by his table with a fresh decanter, Anthony brushed him off.

Heart pounding in his chest, Anthony stood and fled White's, his boots stomping on the front steps with a resounding thump. Without bothering to call for his horse, he flagged down a hackney as it rolled by on the dusky dark streets of St. James. 

It was dark, the night before the Royal Wedding. The Bridgertons were still invited, but Anthony was not so sure he wished to attend. Perhaps he could play ill. He wouldn't have to do much playing though.

"Buckingham Palace", he called to the driver as he climbed in. The hackney continued to roll immediately before Anthony even sat down.

All things considered, Anthony is managing. Bit by bit, day by day, it is easier to manage, as he finds his courage and strengthens his backbone. He must become a man worthy of his family's trust. This is his duty, and his alone. 

He must be enough.

Because there won't be anyone after Amelia. And no one before Amelia mattered. He will be enough. Because there is no one else to add on.

He must be enough.

But Anthony would never admit to anyone if asked. Save perhaps, Amelia.

He had forgotten what it felt like to live a life without fear and regret.

Elizabeth turned to Amelia. "You know which rooms were assigned to him. Where could it be?".

They were speaking about the evidence that they would need to gather. Anything. A man like Ferdinand must have secrets, and enemies to add. He had to.

Amelia was shaking her head. "I don't know. I don't know. But he has a private secretary—" 

"Assume it's his private secretary that has it", Elizabeth ordered. She wasn't sure that any other servant was agile enough to hide evidence of Ferdinand's wrongdoings in the Queen's and King's own home in England, Buckingham Palace, and besides that, if what Elizabeth's intuition had said about Ferdinand when she first met him, then King Ferdinand wasthe man with secrets.He was the man with something to lose. 

"His study", Amelia whispered. "He is always in his study. He is always missing events that seem unimportant. Hunts, balls, soirees, the likes of it".