Warnings: she/her pronouns, female reader, light angst, some worries, lots of fluff, family fluff, Anthony being cute, dialogue heavy, declarations of love.
Word count: 3.6k
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Her hands shake uncontrollably as the carriage clatters through London. Taking calming breaths, (Y/N) does her best to stop her shaking hands by gripping her shawl tightly. Her maid, Jayne, looks over at her in concern. "We can always turn back, my lady," Jayne whispers, "I'm sure Viscount Bridgerton won't mind postponing to another day."
(Y/N) smiles warmly at her maid; grateful for the care in her voice. However, she shakes her head. "I'm afraid it can't wait any longer, Jayne. Anthony's sister and her husband have travelled all the way from Scotland."
Jayne sits back against the carriage bench, nodding her head understandingly. "I'm sure it's going to be fine," She offers in comfort.
"I can only hope," (Y/N) whispers, casting her gaze out of window and into the London streets.
She had met Anthony Bridgerton when shopping for ribbons. An unusual time and place to meet anyone, but Anthony had strolled into the shop and asked to see the best ribbons in the place as nothing would be better than the absolute best for his nieces. (Y/N) had giggled at the tone of his voice; unused to seeing such a powerful figure in such intimate settings. Her laughter had drawn his attention to which a conversation began. By the end of the Viscount's visit to the ribbon shop, he had asked to see her again.
The visits continued in secrecy, or in as much secrecy as one could afford when holding a peerage. The relationship blossomed; what was once considered a friendship was turning romantic, and (Y/N) could not help her feelings for the Viscount. He had captured her, body and soul. She counted every blessing that Anthony felt the same.
The first glimpse of Bridgerton House steals her breath away. The red brick stands out amongst the paler buildings; Anthony's wealth already obvious but further personified by the sheer scale of his home. The sweet scent of the violet hyacinths perfume (Y/N)'s carriage; their aroma bringing a small smile to her face as she remembers a masquerade party in Chiswick, a balcony and Anthony's hands on her waist.
Her carriage rolls to a natural stop; (Y/N)'s heart in her throat as she tears her inquiring gaze from Bridgerton House to Jayne. Jayne smiles and squeezes her lady's hand, a silent offer of support for the afternoon.
"They're going to love you," Jayne whispers, bolstering (Y/N) as best she could as the door to the carriage is opened by (Y/N)'s footman.
Now closer, Bridgerton House is much grander. The deep green iron gates pronounce the family's wealth further. (Y/N) gulps as she takes step after step down the path to already open front door. Her steps falter slightly as she catches sight of Anthony waiting in the entrance; his hair the usual untameable mess that endears her so.
"You came," Anthony breathes in greeting; his eyes wide with barely concealed surprise as he takes in the sight of her on his doorstep.
"I came," (Y/N) answers just as breathlessly. Even the sight of him was enough to leave her gasping for breath; there were moments in their prolonged courtship that she couldn't quite believe he had chosen her, that he wanted her. As Anthony stands there, his white shirt unbuttoned from the collar with his waistcoat undone, she realises that this is the most casual she had ever seen him. His outfit wasn't proper, but she doesn't want it to be. She wants to see him from every angle; she wants to know every Anthony there is. So far, she had found herself besotted with each and every one.
Both remain silent as Anthony offers his arm to her. (Y/N) uses the silence to quash the nerves rioting in her gut; she had never been this nervous, not when she was presented in front of the monarch for her season, and not when she danced with the Prince of Wales at his birthday celebrations two years ago. Now, however, her nerves were beginning to get the better of her.
Anthony pauses their journey. "Are you okay?" He asks, a note of concern in his voice.
"I'm nervous," (Y/N) confesses bashfully, "What if they don't like me? What if they hate me so much that you end things? I'm having so much fun with you, Anthony. I don't want this to end."
"Hey," Anthony whispers, taking her face in his hands, urging her to look at him, "You're going to be fine. They're going to love you, I know it. I've spoken about you so much they feel they already know you."
"You talk about me?" (Y/N) asks, her voice small.
Anthony presses a kiss to her forehead. "Constantly. I'm surprised they haven't kicked me out with how much I talk about you."
"You're really very sweet."
"Only because of you," He flirts, pushing his luck by kissing her quickly.
(Y/N) laughs softly against his mouth. "You're incorrigible."
Anthony laughs gently, pulling away from her lips but keeping hold of her hands. "I'm as nervous as you," He confesses, "But I have you by my side to help me get through just as you have me through this too. Any time you want to go, let me know and I'll call your carriage back round."
"Thank you," She whispers before Anthony continues on down the hall, his hand squeezing hers tightly.
"Are you sure you still want to do this?" Anthony asks, double checking, voice wavering as they stand outside the door to the drawing room. "My family can be a bit much to meet all at once."
"We're nothing of the sort!" A masculine voice shouts from behind the door.
A surprised laugh leaves (Y/N) lips. She covers her mouth to bring back the mask of perfect decorum, not wanting to insult a member of Anthony's family. "I'm ready when you are," She whispers, smiling at the eldest Bridgerton.
"Sooner rather than later," Anthony whispers before opening the door, giving her the first glimpse at his family.
The Bridgerton brood sit around the large drawing room. Sisters and brothers, husbands and wives – they all mix together as they wait for Anthony and his new beau. Each all fall silent as Anthony and (Y/N) enters the room; their first glimpse of her, their first conversation with her. Anthony had spoken about her constantly but refused to let any family meet her until they were both ready.
Now that moment had arrived.
"Mother," Anthony introduces to the silent room, "This is Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N)."
"It's a pleasure to meet you," (Y/N) exclaims, smiling at the Bridgerton matriarch. "I've heard so much about you all," She continues, casting her gaze around the room.
"It's a pleasure for us too, dear (Y/N)," Violet announces, "Anthony has been nothing but a ball of nerves since he announced you would be joining us."
(Y/N) nods at the matriarch, feeling herself become speechless as she takes in the sheer size of Anthony's family. It isn't hard to tell who the Bridgertons are among the group are; they each have the same eyes and smile. "It's lovely to meet you all," (Y/N) announces, repeating her earlier words, unable to keep the nerves from entering her voice this time.
"I'm Benedict," The second eldest introduces, jumping up from his seat on the couch, holding his hand out for her to take.
"The artist!" (Y/N) gasps, "I've seen some of your work. You're exceptionally talented."
"Thank you," Benedict blushes, excusing himself with a pat to Anthony's shoulder, a silent sign that Benedict already approves.
"Help yourself to some tea," A younger woman exclaims in the brief silence between conversations, "I'd get up to greet you, but it would take twice as long as the conversation itself."
"Please don't strain yourself," (Y/N) offers graciously, "Congratulations on your pregnancy."
"Thank you, dear. I'm Daphne, and this is my husband, Simon." Daphne introduces, her hand landing on the thigh of a handsome man.
"It's lovely to meet you both," (Y/N) greets, making her way to an empty seat at a nearby table. There she pours two cups of tea, one for her and one for Anthony, knowing he would be dropping by in a minute or two. The tea steeps as (Y/N) helps herself to one of the many biscuits, taking a small bite of the buttery concoction before reaching for the milk and sugar. This is a routine she has practiced many times before, knowing exactly how long to stir her tea so it wouldn't burn the tip of her tongue with every sip.
It's takes less than two minutes for someone to join her at the table. (Y/N) offers the young woman a polite smile, "I'm (Y/N)."
"Eloise Bridgerton," introduces the young woman.
"A pleasure to meet you," (Y/N) repeats, feeling herself already grow tired of the words.
"Are you educated, (Y/N)?" Eloise enquires; her keen blue gaze dancing over the young woman.
(Y/N) finishes her sip of tea before nodding at Anthony's younger sister. "I am," She answers, "I studied under a very thorough governess, and I am fluent in French and Latin, but I've also been fortunate enough to sit in on some lectures at Oxford and Edinburgh."
"How?" Eloise all but demands, ignoring the stern stare of her mother as she leans forward, elbows on the table. "You must teach me your ways."
(Y/N) represses an amused smile at Eloise's antics. "My favourite cousin, Sylvester, was a student at both. I often annoyed him into letting me attend in secret whenever I visited."
"Did you attend any interesting lectures?"
(Y/N) nods, happy to further indulge the brunette. "Sylvester was a student of medicine, beginning his education at Oxford before continuing on to Edinburgh where he lives now. I've attended a few medical lectures, but I pressured him into letting me attend a philosophical debate surrounding Wollstonecraft's Vindication of the Rights of Woman." (Y/N) shakes her head, amused at the memory, "Sylvester didn't find that one nearly as thrilling as his medical lectures."
"Anthony!" Eloise calls, gathering the attention of all her brothers, "I'm keeping (Y/N) for myself. You're going to have to find a new beau, I'm afraid."
Anthony chuckles, leaving his brothers to their own conversation. "Pray," He begins, "Just what are the two of you talking about."
"(Y/N)'s education. Did you know she's sat in lectures at both Oxford and Edinburgh? I daresay I might attend a few myself."
Anthony's hand lands on your shoulder; a warm squeeze has you turning to meet his stare. His smile is fond; his eyes are bright with happiness. "Are you inciting further rebellion in my little sister?"
"Of course not," (Y/N) playfully scoffs, "Just letting her know that should she want to attend any lectures, I have a connection for her."
A laugh leaves Anthony's lips as he catches sight of Eloise's excited wiggle in her chair. "I'm glad you're getting along," He murmurs to (Y/N) quietly, dropping an unexpected kiss to her hair before entering a debate with Eloise, explaining why she cannot go about interrupting lectures at prestigious universities.
Leaving the siblings to their bickering, (Y/N) stands from table, wanting to stretch her legs and discover more to the drawing room. By this point in the afternoon, the appeal of company has worn off. The large family now broken off into their own conversations; Francesca and Michael remain sat close together on the couch under the window, Lady Violet remains sat by her eldest daughter – the matriarch keeping a weather eye on her pregnant daughter.
(Y/N) smiles fondly at the scene before turning to one of the many fixed bookshelves in the room; leather bound volumes line the shelves. There wasn't much for light reading, she thinks to herself as she reads the spines. Much about the War of the Roses and the subsequent Tudor reign, not much in the way of Miss Butterworth and the Mad Baron.
"You're very pretty," A young girl announces from behind (Y/N). She turns to find two girls, both no older than four or five, their hair matching pigtails, curled into ringlets.
(Y/N) kneels to their height, ignoring the pinching of her corset as she smiles at the young children. "Why thank you," She states gratefully, "But you know what I would really like?"
"What?" The eldest of the two asks, leaning forward in anticipation.
"Gorgeous pigtails like yours," (Y/N) smiles, gesturing to their hair.
Both girls break into wide smiles, already won over. "What are your names?" (Y/N) asks.
"I'm Amelia," The eldest states proudly, "I'm five and a half."
"I'm Belinda," The second girl introduces, "I'm four."
"Well it is lovely to meet you both," (Y/N) compliments, "My name is (Y/N)."
"We know," Belinda chimes. "Uncle Tony talks about you all the time."
"He does, does he?" She murmurs amused; catching sight of the brunette doing his best not to intervene on the conversation taking place with his nieces.
Amelia nods. "All the time!" She cries happily. "He talks about your hair, your eyes, your smile." She breaks off, leaning towards (Y/N) to whisper in her ear. "I think he's in love with you."
"Do you think?" (Y/N) questions, unable to keep the eager hope from her voice.
"I know," Amelia nods sagely, "I heard Uncle Tony tell Mama and Papa."
(Y/N) presses her lips together to keep the wide smile from growing across her face. She had known that Anthony felt very deeply for her though he had never uttered a word. With a quick glance in Anthony's direction, she gestures for the two girls to come closer. "Can you keep a secret?"
Amelia and Belinda nod silently; too excited to hear what (Y/N) has to say. "It just so happens," (Y/N) whispers to the two girls, "That I also love your Uncle Tony."
"You do?" Belinda squeaks.
"I do," (Y/N) nods seriously, "I love him very much."
"Are you going to tell him?" Amelia asks; her blue eyes wide with burning curiosity.
"I think on some level he already knows, but I plan on telling him very soon."
Both girls squeal in happiness, leaving (Y/N) behind as they run towards their parents. Daphne and Simon greet their children with open arms, wide eyed at their level of noise as they demand their voices to be heard over the hubbub of the rest of the family.
"I don't suppose you'd enlighten me to this particular conversation," A warm voice sounds from behind her. The way his arm slips around her waist, as if it were his home, tells (Y/N) that Anthony has found her once more.
"A secret for another day," (Y/N) teases, turning to face the man that had captured her heart so wholly.
"Will you tell me later?" He asks, pushing out his bottom lip in a pout that has her giggling.
"Perhaps," She whispers, leaning ever closer to the Bridgerton. "Only if you promise me something."
"Anything," He whispers seriously, "I'd give you the world if I could."
"I know you would," She murmurs, "But all I'm asking for is for you to not pester your nieces over what I told them."
"How did you know?" Anthony asks, voice glum.
(Y/N) brings a gloved hand to his cheek, her thumb brushing his cheekbone. "Because I know you, my dear."
Anthony leans into the touch, turning his face slightly to press a kiss to her wrist. "I like being your dear."
"I like being yours too," She replies earnestly. "Now, I've spoken to most of your siblings. Do me the honour of introducing me to Francesca, she came all the way from Scotland, it's rude that I've neglected her."
"Yes, my darling," Anthony responds, taking her hand and leading her to the couch where Francesca sits with her husband, Michael.
The day continues in a similar fashion. Bridgerton House had never been quiet when the whole family was in attendance; raucous laughter and loving bickering filled its many corners with noise. The life and laughter of the family bringing the house to life.
As the grandfather clock ticks closer and closer to the evening, (Y/N) finds herself lamenting the fact that she must leave the Bridgerton family so soon.
"I must take my leave," She announces to sad cries to Amelia and Belinda, already so attached.
"So soon?" Benedict asks, frowning as he wonders when he'll get to continues his conversation with her. So few wanted to talk about art nowadays.
(Y/N) meets Anthony's gaze, hating how sad he looks. "I'm having dinner with my parents and their friends. An occasion I simply cannot miss, I'm afraid."
"Do we know them?" Violet asks in an attempt to delay the inevitable. She had grown fond of the young woman over the course of the afternoon, seeing how perfectly she fit amongst her family, how she brought out the best in her eldest son.
"The St. Clair's?" (Y/N) enquires, drawing her shawl around her shoulders. "My father has worked with Lady Danbury's family for a long time. Gareth and I are old friends."
"Have a wonderful time," Violet announces, "But please visit us soon."
"I would love to," (Y/N) smiles, crossing the room to be by Anthony's side.
Offering her goodbyes to the large family, (Y/N) takes Anthony's offered arm, hooking hers through his as they descend the grand marble staircase to the foyer. "Your family are lovely," (Y/N) compliments as she takes care not to trip over her skirts on the stairs. "You all care for each so much, it's clear the moment you enter the room."
"My mother and siblings are the best people I know," Anthony murmurs, walking beside (Y/N) at a steady pace in order to delay her departure by a minute.
"I can only hope they liked me," She worries, her teeth biting into her bottom lip in a way that has Anthony restraining himself by gripping her arm tighter.
"You were wonderful," Anthony murmurs, pressing a lingering kiss to her cheekbone before helping her into her carriage.
"Thank you for today," (Y/N) calls, sticking her hand from the window to prolong the contact between Anthony and herself. She wasn't quite ready to say goodbye; wasn't quite ready to leave him.
"Thank you for coming," Anthony answers, kissing her hand before tucking it back through the window of her carriage. If they didn't say goodbye now, they wouldn't say goodbye at all. If she didn't leave, he would most likely offer marriage on the pavement than somewhere proper.
Nodding to her footman, Anthony watches her carriage leave. He stands on the doorstep to Bridgerton House until her carriage is no longer in sight. Only then does he let himself release the breath he didn't know he was holding.
Weariness washes over him as he turns to face his childhood home. Inside, in his mother's drawing room, await his family. Each one ready to give their verdict on the woman he has had the good fortune to fall in love with.
Sighing, he kicks at the ground, knowing he cannot delay this any longer.
His mother and siblings are where he left them; his mother's drawing room. They fall silent at the sight of him; each clearly unwilling to make the leap and be the first to broach the elephant in the room.
"What do you think of (Y/N)?" Anthony asks; voice loud in the ever so silent room. He meets the eyes of each of his siblings, not missing the way Daphne leans into Simon or the way Michael reaches for Francesca's hand. They've all found their love matches; it was now Anthony's turn.
Colin takes the fall for his family, standing to face his eldest brother and titled peer. He clears his throat, fidgeting on the spot before he eventually pauses all movement, breaking into a smile to declare, "We all loved her!"
"You do?" Anthony asks, falling onto a nearby couch in shock.
Violet smiles at her eldest son. "We do. (Y/N) is a sweetheart and looks to be just as taken with you as you are with her."
Blush begins to paint Anthony's cheeks. "I can only hope, dear mother."
"It's true," Amelia chimes, her young face bright with joy. "She told Belinda and I."
"You have found your love match, my darling boy," Violet states warmly.
"It does help that (Y/N) is a trifle more tolerable than you, dear brother," Benedict teases, laughter bright in his Bridgerton blue eyes.
"And so educated!" Eloise gasps, "We had an enlightening conversation about Wollstonecraft's Vindication on the Rights of Women."
"She was wonderful with Amelia and Belinda," Daphne murmurs, her hand falling protectively over her pregnant stomach.
"Why do I get the feeling that you prefer (Y/N) to me?" Anthony murmurs, mischief bright in his eyes and evident in his voice.
"That's exactly what we're saying," Gregory points out, "I only hope (Y/N) can keep up with your obsession with Pall Mall."
"A worthy obsession," Anthony argues, mind wandering to the games he could play with (Y/N).
"She's wonderful," Violet interrupts, a large smile on her face as she takes the final say.
Anthony smiles widely at his mother; constantly grateful for her love and care throughout his life. She had been lost after the death of his father, as had Anthony, but Anthony had never truly understood what it would feel like to lose someone you love as wholeheartedly as his mother loved his father.
Until now, that is. The mere thought of losing her sends a lance of pain through his chest, cutting short his breath and increasing his panic. Anthony shakes his head to rid himself of such thoughts and feelings.
Calm enough, he faces his family once more. "I plan on proposing to (Y/N)," He announces, showing his family the ring box that has been sitting heavily in his trouser pocket all day.
"Thank goodness," Francesca murmurs, smiling indulgently at her big brother. "I cannot wait to call her sister."
"Indeed," Anthony murmurs, a loving smile on his face, "I cannot wait to call her my wife."