𝓕𝓸𝓻𝓰𝓸𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓷 𝓓𝓮𝓼𝓲𝓻𝓮𝓼 𓆩♡𓆪
Best friends since their very first memories, Anthony and Ayera had never imagined a life lacking another. But imagination is a cruel sentiment that loves crumbling worlds. The loss of his father had Anthony b...
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Violet saw her after her son and made her way towards her, dragging a very furious Anthony behind her.
On reaching her, she placed her hands on her shoulders. "Ayera,"
"Lady Bridgerton,"
"How are you my dear?" Violet spoke with the utmost compassion.
"I am perfectly alright, I missed you terribly," she beamed at the lady who was once a mother figure to her.
"So did I my love. How's your mother?"
Ayera motioned to the figure engaged in a conversation with her aunt. "You may ask her yourself."
"I will see you again darling." And with that, Violet proceeded over to Whitney Blaic.
"Miss Blaic," Anthony greeted her.
"My Lord," she bowed.
The words felt strange on her tongue, but fit to address a stranger. 10 years, a decade is a long time. She had once known the nooks and curves in the soul of the person standing before her, but now all she saw was a stranger bowing. He had changed and so had she. What they once shared stood for nothing now. Just strangers now, knowing only a hollow echo of the person they used to be. He had grown handsome, she shushed the thought away. But when he lifted his eyes to her, she wondered what could have happened if he hadn't cracked her heart like glass so mercilessly. And with that reminder, an all so ever easy rage began seething in her veins.
I am not coming back. I know. There is nothing you want to say? No. Anthony, What? What do you want from me? Look at me! Look at me and tell me you do not care for me. Tell me my feelings are unrequited. I do not care for you. I have never seen you more than a friend and I never will.
Her jaw tensed as he hastily made his way away from her. She followed the man who spoke those cruelty dipped words to her all that time ago with her eyes. Unsuccessful in her attempt to deduce where he was off to, she exited the hall and headed towards the terrace for some fresh air to calm down her nerves, grateful for the possibility of not bumping into him. Only for the voice of Anthony Bridgerton to float to her ears, more hoarse than she remembered but unmistakably his. She hastily hid behind a wall.
"Simply pick the least objectionable and get her wed, bed, and bred."
A chorus of laughs erupted in response from the other gentlemen, though she was really not sure about the gentle part. She felt like puking at their disgusting attitude.
"Love is the last thing I desire. But if my children are to be of good stock then their mother should be of impeccable quality, a pleasing face, an acceptable wit, genteel manners enough to credit a Viscountess. It should not be hard to find. Yet the debutantes of London fall short at every turn."
Her eyebrows knitted in confusion, the Anthony she had known had always immensely respected woman. She failed to recognize the man speaking about women in such a derogatory manner as if they were mere cattle stock, a stranger, she reminded herself. And a very unpleasant one. Her palm itched to slap him but she convinced herself into going inside before any of the men caught her eavesdropping.
