A Day Brimming with Unexpected Delights
Aubrey Hall, Kent
Over the course of the previous year, Charlotte found herself deeply immersed in the responsibilities associated with performing her brother's duties, to the extent that she temporarily overlooked the imperative task of learning Welsh. While she did manage to secure the services of a tutor, Charlotte's commitment extended beyond the formal lessons. Post-tutoring sessions, she diligently practiced on her own.
Benedict became an unexpected and supportive companion in her linguistic journey. Amidst his own pursuits in sketching, he dedicated moments to accompany Charlotte during her study sessions. Intriguingly, Benedict, despite lacking any prior familiarity with the Welsh language, would occasionally pause his sketches to lend a helping hand. He took it upon himself to assist Charlotte in perfecting her pronunciation, demonstrating a heartfelt involvement in her pursuit of mastering this unfamiliar linguistic terrain. Their shared endeavor not only became a bonding experience but also added a unique layer to their relationship, transcending the boundaries of conventional sibling roles.
Little did the Duke know, his unintentional expression of concentration—furrowed eyebrows and a slight pout forming on his lips—whenever he delved into the intricacies of deciphering English and Welsh grammar books or his wife's lesson notes held an endearing charm for her. These moments, where he earnestly sought to comprehend the linguistic nuances, unknowingly became the highlights of Charlotte's day. The genuine effort Benedict put into grappling with the complexities of the languages, coupled with the subtle display of his determined facial expressions, created a heartwarming scene that endeared him to her, fostering a deeper appreciation for their shared journey of language learning.
With an air of amusement, the Duchess of Kent and Strathearn observed her Duke engrossed in the challenging endeavor of deciphering a Welsh text. The Duke, with a persistent furrow on his brow and a slight pout to his mouth, made valiant attempts to navigate the linguistic intricacies before him. As he courageously ventured to pronounce a particular word, only to meet with resounding failure, a broad smile adorned the Duchess's face. It was a moment of shared amusement, a testament to the endearing nature of their connection, where the Duke's linguistic struggles brought forth not frustration but genuine joy to his watchful consort.
"Dwi'n dy garu di," Charlotte said in Welsh, and he immediately look at her with his eyes slightly wide. I love you. "It means that 'I love you', my love."
"And now I officially find the language extraordinarily attractive," he smirked, making her giggle. "Who could have thought that your voice could be so seductive in such languages like German and Welsh?"
"And Scottish Gaelic," she reminded him, and he chuckled.
"Of course," he nodded. "Another language where I do not understand a single word of."
"And now you are making me wonder, would you like to learn some German?" She playfully asked, and he exaggeratedly sighed. "Es ist nicht so schwer wie es sich anhört." It's not as difficult as it sounds.
"I will entirely, but respectfully decline your most gracious offer," a wide smile graced his face when his wife giggled at his words. "Now that we have clarified that... What do you say about you not Welsh-practicing and me not sketching for the rest of the night?"
"Is that so?" She raised her eyebrows in amusement. "And what do you suggest we do instead?"
"I may have an idea," he smiled softly at her. "We could go outside, sit underneath a tree and stare at the night sky."
"Yes! Oh, I'd love that," she grinned. "But before we get into that, I just received word from Kensington Palace."
"Must we respond now?" He groaned.
"If it is a letter from the palace, yes, we must, my love. As soon as possible," she lightly smirked. "A man that goes by the name of Thomas Ward wishes for us to decide our child's six godparents and send back word of our choices as soon as possible."
"Six?" His eyes grew wide.
"Usually the godparents are chosen to maintain familial connections and diplomatic ties within European royal circles," his wife explained, and sighed. "Unfortunately, we have also been sent a list of people eligible to be our child's godparents."
"Bloody hell," Benedict sighed. "Who have they suggested?"
"It does not matter," his wife assured him. "We have the final say... I'd say at least for four of them."
"We do?" He questioned, but then chuckled when his wife glared at him. "Fine. Of course George and Anthony should be godfathers."
"I agree to both," she nodded and wrote it down. "May I suggest we add the third godfather related to a diplomatic alliance? To keep the lords happy, of course."
"Alright," he chuckled. "As for the godmothers... How about my sister?"
"Daphne? Of course. I thought of her too," she immediately wrote it down. "Who else do you suggest?"
"You are our child's mother, my angel," he smiled. "Who would you suggest?"
"Oh, my love," she sighed. "I'd say either Fatima, Lilia or Cora... But I know it would never be approved because of who they are."
"They are Ladies of the Bedchamber. They have literally devoted their lives to you," he scoffed. "It is so unfair."
"I know, my love. Unfortunately, it is," she looked down at the paper she was writing on. "So, we've got so far... The Prince Regent, the Viscount Bridgerton, and the Duchess of Hastings."
"I trust Tommy to appoint the right diplomatic godparents to our child," Benedict commented. "But we are still missing one godmother from our own choosing."
"Not anymore, for I have just thought of the perfect godmother as well," she looked up at him with a grin on her face. "The Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton."
Having meticulously inscribed his mother's name on the official list, she sensed the gentle descent of her husband, his lips tenderly meeting her forehead. Lifting her gaze, she found his affectionate eyes locking onto hers as he proceeded to place sweet kisses upon her cheek, then her nose, and finally, lingering on her lips. The quill, having dutifully served its purpose, found its resting place on the desk, momentarily forgotten.
As Benedict leaned in, her hands rose instinctively, delicately cupping his cheek, and what began as a simple peck evolved into a deeper, more intimate kiss. In that shared moment, the world outside their embrace ceased to exist, the only reality being the palpable connection they shared.
A faint whine, a charming interruption, resonated through the room. Benedict, attuned to the subtle nuances of their surroundings, pulled away with a playful peck on his wife's lips, eliciting a soft laughter that danced in the air. His giddy demeanor added a delightful touch to the scene, a testament to the joy and warmth encapsulated in their shared moments of intimacy.
"Come on, sweetie," he turned to Luna. "Let's go to bed while Mama folds that letter."
A subtle smile graced Charlotte's lips as she observed her husband's departure, accompanied by Luna, heading towards their bedroom. With deliberate care, she meticulously folded the letter she had composed, laying it purposefully in the center of the ornate desk. It was destined for the attentive hands of either Lilia, Cora, Fatima or Martin, tasked with ensuring its swift journey to Kensington Palace.
As the Duchess of Kent and Strathearn completed this quiet act, a gentle flutter of anticipation filled her being. A precious life, intricately intertwined with her own, stirred within. The unborn child, nestled in the sanctuary of her womb, expressed its vitality with a subtle yet distinct kick against her stomach. The unexpected movement briefly startled her, eliciting a tender smile that reflected both surprise and delight.
In that fleeting moment, the reality of impending motherhood resonated profoundly. The promise of joy, wrapped in the cocoon of her growing belly, was a reminder of the imminent arrival of a new chapter in their lives. Weeks would transform into moments, and the joy that now danced within her would soon materialize into a tangible presence, filling their home with the warmth of a newborn's embrace.
"Having the Sharmas here have made me miss my own half brothers," Charlotte mentioned as she entered their bedroom. "Would you mind if we pay them a visit?"
"I do not think that is wise, my love," Benedict sighed. "Not only for the journey, but because if you give birth there, I fear the Queen will hang herself."
"I believe it does not matter where our children are born, whether it is here in Aubrey Hall, or at Bridgerton House, or at any of the palaces," his wife added. "I think what matters is how we raise them. After all, a whole new kingdom one day will rise and grow with them."
"Speaking of brothers. Are you still angry with mine?" The Duke of Kent and Strathearn wondered.
"I am not speaking to him, if that's what you wonder," she responded as she approached the bed. "Nor will I until..."
"Come on, my angel," Benedict almost laughed at her stubbornness. "Just admit you cannot stay mad at him."
"Well, it is kind of difficult to do so when we see one another every day," Charlotte said as she made herself comfortable under the sheets. "Besides, I am married to his brother. It is kind of imprudent to stay mad at him when he is the brother you most look up to."
"I wouldn't be angry at you if you were still mad at him after a decade," he said, and his wife raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "Fine. Perhaps all family reunions would be sort of awkward, but I know I would find your argument to be ridiculous."
"I know I said I didn't want to overstep in your brother's decisions, but I refuse to stand to the side and watch him make all these decisions that will not make him happy in the long run," she explained, and sighed while her husband brushed his knuckles over her cheek, sweetly. "Am I an awful sister-in-law for interfering?"
"I'd say it makes you one of the bests," Benedict lightly smiled. "I don't think any other sister-in-law would care so much for her husband's family as you have done for mine."
"I'll always care for your family, my love," Charlotte leaned forward and pecked his lips. "It's my family too."
Benedict tenderly pressed a kiss to his wife's cheek, then nestled by her side, mindful of her burgeoning pregnant belly. Gently placing a hand on the rounded curve, he traced soothing circles, savoring the kicks of their anticipated bundle of joy. Luna, their faithful companion, gracefully joined them on the bed, curling up at the Duke and Duchess' feet, seeking warmth and companionship.
ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ
On the opposing end of Aubrey Hall, the Viscount, Anthony Bridgerton, found himself engrossed in paperwork at his desk, a subtle smile gracing his features. Successfully convincing Kate Sharma to allow him the opportunity to court Edwina brought a sense of triumph. Finally, the chance to delve into getting to know Kate and himself, fostering a companionship that could flourish into something more.
Following the Pall Mall game, Anthony rejoined Edwina, with his mother and Lady Danbury acting as chaperones. Delight filled him as he observed Edwina's intelligence and her commitment to being a supportive and devoted wife. Imagining her as the ideal Viscountess brought a genuine satisfaction to his countenance.
Yet, this happiness would wane when thoughts of the recent disagreement with Charlotte invaded his mind. Anthony regretted uttering words he didn't mean, particularly the harsh declaration: "I don't want your help, Charlotte! I don't need it, and I certainly won't ever need it. Just leave me alone and focus on your own family, not mine!" The realization of such words escaping him left Anthony in disbelief.
There existed an unspoken desire to share with Charlotte, his sister-in-law, his dearest friend, and closest confidante. However, a wall now stood between them. The person he would typically turn to about his day became an unreachable source of support due to his own frustrations, taking a toll on their relationship. Anthony grappled with the realization that he had let his frustration taint a bond that meant the world to him.
"So, it is all going well, then?" The Duchess of Hastings asked her brother, who didn't realize she had walked in his room.
"Extremely," he smiled at her.
"And did Miss Edwina mention Pall-Mall?" She wondered. "She did not appear to be having much fun."
"Well, how could she have done, when the lot of you were downright gladiatorial out there?" Anthony almost chuckled at that.
"As if the game can be played any other way," Daphne defended it.
"I was surprised she played for as long as she did," he added, a smile still on his face. "It is no matter. Miss Edwina did not need to win a silly game in order to win my heart."
"Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?" She questioned with a playful frown.
"Daph," he scoffed.
"Has this young lady truly won your heart?" She asked him, and he couldn't help but remember Charlotte asking him something similar, and receiving such a rude answer from him. He didn't want it to happen with his sister too.
"You met her. You met her family. She is delightful, and pleasant, and interesting. Even wise," he described and looked up at his sister. "What exactly are your objections?"
"Well, I– I suppose I do not have any," she responded. "Other than objecting to the way you treated Char..."
"Does everyone know we fought?" He sighed. "It was my mistake. I said some things I didn't mean. I never meant to hurt her."
"She only wants what's best for you. We all want that for you, Anthony," Daphne stated calmly. "Have you talked to her?"
"No. She's been avoiding me all day," he shook his head. "Understandably so."
"Everyone seemed surprised to find out you fought," she commented. "Because you've never done it. It was evident, Brother. Neither of you have said it and everyone noticed."
"You think they noticed?" He wondered. "The Sharma's?"
"They're not blind, Anthony," his sister's words made him sigh.
"I just... It's no excuse, but I do have a lot on my mind, Daph," he said. "And the last thing I need is for Charlotte to disapprove of the woman I am to marry."
"As far as I know, she doesn't disapprove of her," Daphne said, and walked towards the giant bookshelf. "If you say Miss Edwina is the one for you. If you say she is the one in whose presence you cannot properly think, or even... or even breathe. If you say you feel that feeling."
"Feeling?" Anthony questioned, looking back at his sister. "What—"
"Uh... The one that makes it impossible for you to look away from them at any given moment. When your body and soul feel as if they could burst into flames whenever the two of you are near. When all you are able to do in their presence is to fight the urge to lean forward and touch their lips with yours," she tried to explain, realization hitting the Viscount. "If that is the feeling you have when you are with Miss Edwina, I am quite happy for you indeed."
"I could not have described it better myself," he said, a small smile on his face. Though it hid behind a mix of emotions and feelings he hadn't kept in mind before.
ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ
The Duke of Kent and Strathearn awoke well before the break of dawn, a current of anticipation and anxiety coursing through his body. The impending letter from the Royal Academy Schools, determining his acceptance or rejection, hung heavy in the pre-dawn air. Wishing to shield his wife from the weight of his apprehension, he slipped out of bed, determined to face the day's uncertainties before she stirred.
Each instance he departed from her side before her awakening sparked a twinge of guilt within him. Ideally, he yearned for her to open her eyes to his presence each morning, to be the first sight that greeted her. Yet, today, Benedict reasoned that an early departure was the wiser choice, sparing her the shadows of his restless thoughts. Despite this, the conflict between his desire to stay by her side and the need to confront his own nervous anticipation played out in the quiet solitude of the morning.
Throughout the day, a palpable tension enveloped the surroundings as onlookers observed the Viscount and the Duchess of Kent and Strathearn, their interactions marked by a conspicuous silence. Anthony found himself paralyzed by the daunting task of initiating an apology, his nerves becoming a formidable obstacle. Meanwhile, Charlotte, equally apprehensive, refrained from breaking the silence, anticipating that her words might inadvertently provoke him further if she spoke prematurely.
The unspoken rift between them lingered, each passing moment adding weight to the unresolved conflict. Anthony grappled with the internal struggle of mustering the courage to extend an olive branch, while Charlotte hesitated, fearful of making a misstep that could reignite his anger. The air crackled with the unspoken emotions that surrounded their strained relationship, leaving both parties suspended in a disconcerting limbo, unsure of how to bridge the gap that had unexpectedly formed between them.
"Did you and Char argue too?" Colin asked his brother, who shook his head. "Then why are you avoiding her too? It is awful enough to witness the way she and Anthony are avoiding each other too."
"I am not avoiding her. Well– I sort of am, but it's because I don't want her to be concerned about this," Benedict sighed. "She's with child. She doesn't need me to be anxious. So... I'm keeping my distance."
"You said it yourself. She's with child," Colin chuckled. "I think the last thing Char would want is to be apart from her husband."
"Trust that this is killing me too. Anthony avoiding her is upsetting enough," he served himself some tea. "But I need this anxiety to go away if I am to join her."
"If it is a clear mind you seek, Brother, I may know how to help," Colin said as he served himself some tea too. "Worldly travelers use it as a way to open their minds and transcend ordinary anxieties."
Colin grabbed a pinch from his powder that he had saved in a small bag and dropped it on his tea. Benedict grabbed the bag from his brother and smelled it.
"Smells rather foul, does it not?" He winced.
"It only takes the smallest of doses to feel the effects," Colin then offered him his cup of tea.
Benedict took a sip, and shrugged as he felt nothing.
"Whatever is the point? I hardly think a tea will distract me from the momentous decision the proctors at the Royal Schools are making at this very moment," he sighed heavily.
"Or perhaps it will allow you to escape the thoughts that've been plaguing your mind," Colin suggested another point of view. "The doubts, the questions that seem to linger, no matter how far you go to escape them."
"Are you quite well, Brother?" Benedict questioned.
"You will see. This tea is quite the elixir. On one occasion, in Paxos, I found myself meditating for hours upon a single blade of grass," Colin chuckled. "It'll clear your head off your worries. Not just of the Royal Schools, but of parenthood. After all, it is just a matter of time before Char's stomach pops and you are finally holding your baby in your arms."
"Oh, I've given that much thought. Trust me," the Duke lightly nodded. "I do not think anyone is ever entirely ready, but I hope to do my best."
"You are raising the heir to the throne. Your child will one day rule over England and thousands of people will depend on him...or her," Colin chuckled. "I'm impressed by how you've handled the pressure, Brother. Charlotte's a natural, but I know I would be all over the place."
Abruptly, a chill ran down the Duke of Kent and Strathearn's spine and sent shivers coursing through his arms. While he was well aware of the significance of their child being the heir to the throne, the weight of the responsibility suddenly felt more pronounced. His mind, once steady, now raced with a cascade of worries. Contemplating whether it was mere paranoia or the lingering effects of whatever powder his brother had surreptitiously introduced into his tea, uncertainty cast a shadow over his thoughts.
The third-born Bridgerton's face softened as his brother seized the petite bag containing the powder, emptily pouring its entire contents into his tea. Benedict deftly stirred the concoction before hastily consuming it, aiming to sidestep the disagreeable taste and aroma it carried. Meanwhile, Colin's gaze remained fixed on him, a look of pure disbelief etched across his face as he contemplated the predicament that now enveloped him.
"Hell and the devil," he chuckled.
"That's bad," Benedict groaned.
"Oh, Christ," Colin sighed. "Char's going to kill me."
"Not a word," he stated. "She must never know."
"Oh, Brother," Colin scratched the back of his head helplessly. "Even if I don't utter a word, she will definitely know."
ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ
Amidst the tranquility of the garden, Kate Sharma savored her cup of Indian tea in solitude until the serene atmosphere was gently disrupted by the arrival of Eloise Bridgerton. The two found themselves engrossed in conversation, delving into the memories of the late Viscount, Lord Edmund Bridgerton. Specifically, they explored the transformation in Anthony's demeanor upon realizing, after the game of Pall-Mall, their proximity to his father's resting place.
As their dialogue unfolded, Eloise couldn't help but let her curiosity extend to Kate Sharma's life as a spinster. The looming societal expectations, with every member of Eloise's family hoping for her timely marriage to a suitable man, provided a poignant backdrop. The conversation veered towards the challenges of spinsterhood, a life often considered less than ideal for women in their society. Yet, despite Kate's acknowledgment of these societal norms, Eloise couldn't shake her fascination with the concept. The allure of unrestrained freedom, the ability to chart one's own course without the constraints of matrimony, held a distinct allure for Eloise. The idea of being able to define oneself outside the confines of societal expectations stirred a quiet intrigue within her.
With a smile lingering on her face, Kate Sharma found herself reflecting on the encounter with Eloise Bridgerton as the latter gracefully retreated back inside the house. Eloise's intellect, curiosity, and evident ambition had left a lasting impression on Kate, sparking a genuine sense of admiration for the Bridgerton girl.
"Ah! Miss Sharma," then Kate realized the Duchess of Kent and Strathearn had walked outside. "Pardon me. I did not realize anyone else was here. I shall go back—"
"It's quite alright, Your Royal Highness," Kate stood up and made a curtsy for her. "Would you like to join me? I made tea."
"Only if I am not interrupting," she chuckled nervously.
"Nonsense. It would be an honor for you to join me," she motioned to the empty seat next to her, and the Duchess of Kent and Strathearn slowly and carefully sat down. Kate suppressed a chuckle at the sight.
"You are allowed to laugh at me, Miss Sharma," Charlotte chuckled as she sat in a more comfortable position. "Honestly, everyone seems to be shocked by the size of my belly. Even Lady Danbury informed me that my child seems to be bigger than anyone thought it would be."
"Well..." Kate finally chuckled. "It could be that your child inherited your husband's height."
"Perhaps," the two women chuckled as Kate poured her some tea. "You seemed to be enjoying yourself at yesterday's game. I hope the Bridgerton's competitiveness did not give you a fright."
"Not at all, Ma'am. I rather enjoyed myself," Kate smiled. "The Bridgertons have been so warmth and welcoming."
"I felt the same way when I met them years ago," Charlotte smiled too. "Though when I met them... I never expected to marry one of them."
"I understand," she lightly nodded as she handed the Duchess her tea. "I felt the same way when I first met the Viscount. I never thought he would be one of my sister's choices to marry."
"In the end, we will end up marrying who we least expect it. I know I don't regret a thing," she took a sip of her tea. "Oh, Miss Sharma. This is delicious!"
"Thank you, Ma'am," Kate grinned, pleased that the Duchess of Kent and Strathearn enjoyed her Indian tea.
"By the way, I must ask," a giggle escaped Charlotte's lips. "Did you really try to match your sister with Lord Lumley?"
"I did try," she chuckled. "Why? Was it wrong of me?"
"No! Oh, no, trust me," the Duchess chuckled. "It's just... I've heard he is too...catchy."
"Catchy?" Kate wondered.
"You know those men who think a woman needs saving every time there's even the smallest of problems, and they'll never leave their side?" Charlotte tried to explain. "I was once warned he was like that. He thinks of well-read women as smart... But helpless at the face of a minimum issue."
"Oh," her eyes grew wide at her observation. "How– How do you know?"
"All men who once tried to court me were meticulously investigated on my brother's orders," Charlotte chuckled at the memory. "Literally, my brother sat me down and told me everything wrong about all men."
"I can't imagine such conversation," Kate grinned. "Though, I wouldn't dare blame His Royal Highness... I know I would have done the same for Edwina."
"Oh, speaking of your sister, I'd like to know more about where you're from," Charlotte grinned back too. "I believe the Viscount mentioned Bombay?"
"Oh, what is there to say... Bombay is a mesmerizing blend of opulence and cultural diversity. The bustling streets showcase a thriving marketplace, while grand colonial buildings reflect the city's prosperity," the oldest Sharma explained, excited to talk about where she's from. "Its multicultural tapestry– it is woven by Parsis, Hindus, Muslims, and Christians... It all unfolds in an extraordinary and vibrant festivals and harmonious coexistence."
"Sounds like a place I would love to visit one day," Charlotte said, Kate felt warmth at the sincerity in her voice. "Especially for this tea! May I have some more, if that's alright?"
"That's more than alright, Ma'am," both women giggled with excitement and Kate poured her and herself more tea. "Now... This is my first time in London. In your perspective, what can you tell me about it?"
"Interesting question," she smirked and took a sip of the tea. "But I'd like to know more about your impression."
"I thought Londoners only thought of themselves," Kate admitted. "That as long as they're alright, they do not care of the people around them."
"Well, I hope we changed your mind, then," Charlotte sighed contently. "Well, from my view... I see London as the jewel of the British Empire, a beacon of sophistication and culture... I mustn't go on, really. I do not wish to engage like a diplomat trying to sell my city's grandeur."
"Have you ever had to do that?" Kate asked.
"Oh, yes," she nodded. "The first time I did, I was eight, and the Queen had asked me to convince the Emperor of Russia's son to why should he explore the marvels of the Scottish Highlands."
"Oh," her eyes grew wide. "That must have been a lot of pressure."
"I'm sure it was... I do not remember. It was so long ago," she lightly chuckled. "The purpose was to convince the Emperor of a union between myself and his second son... Unsuccessful, as you might have noticed. Apparently, we do not possess enough vodka."
As their eyes met, both women attempted to stifle their laughter, but their efforts proved futile. Laughter bubbled forth, not the delicate giggles society might anticipate, but hearty, genuine mirth. In that moment, the Viscount's courtship with Edwina, the purpose of their visit to Aubrey Hall, and any lingering worries faded into the background, eclipsed by the sheer joy of shared amusement.
Unbeknownst to others, Anthony Bridgerton overheard laughter while passing by inside the house. From a distance, he observed the figures of the eldest Sharma sister and the Duchess of Kent and Strathearn engaged in lively conversation. Silently watching them share laughter, a genuine smile graced his face. Witnessing the two women together, it seemed as if they had been lifelong friends, a sight that filled him with an inexplicable joy.
The enchanting moment, however, was abruptly interrupted by approaching footsteps. Deciding to avoid being noticed, he swiftly stepped away before anyone could see him.
"Oh, it's been a while since I've laughed like that, I believe," Charlotte sighed contently as the two women now regained their composure.
"If you don't mind me asking, Ma'am..." Kate now wondered. "How did you meet the Bridgertons?"
"It was so long ago, during an expedition. I was looking for this rare flower. I wanted to draw it. And, on the way, I met Benedict and Colin," Charlotte smiled at the memory. "We talked for a bit, and I liked them. They seemed so nice. So, I asked them to join me and my royal guards so they were protected. I didn't want them wandering in the woods by themselves."
"Oh, so you met them before you met the Viscount?" She asked, and the Duchess nodded.
"I met the Viscount by the park. I was strolling around, in my horse, Snow, and the Viscount formally wanted to introduce himself to me," she explained. "Before I was fifteen, I hardly ever got out of the palace, so I had every family after me trying to make a good impression."
"I see," Kate lightly chuckled.
"Though there is something about the Bridgertons that..." Charlotte sighed contently. "They just can't make you walk away without longing for more."
Cressida Cowper's words reverberated in Kate's mind, leaving her pondering the authenticity of the claim that the Viscount was attempting to court the Duchess of Kent and Strathearn. Though a part of her yearned to confront Cressida and seek clarification, Kate found herself grappling with the challenge of finding the right words to broach the sensitive subject.
In her quest for understanding, Kate delved into Lady Danbury's extensive collection of Lady Whistledown's columns, spanning from the inception of the scandal sheets. As she perused through every page, a sense of confirmation mingled with her suspicions. However, Kate harbored a desire to ascertain the truth directly from the Duchess rather than relying solely on rumors. The need for clarity and an authentic conversation prevailed over hasty judgments, guiding Kate's approach to unraveling the mystery.
"You know... I am not one who enjoys gossip, Ma'am... But still, people talk," Kate took a deep breath before asking carefully. "Is it true that the Viscount had tried to court a woman last year?"
"A woman as in..." Charlotte trailed off.
"The Princess Royal," she added. "You, Ma'am."
Charlotte wearily closed her eyes, releasing a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of anticipation, as if already sensing the swirl of assumptions and suspicions that might be brewing in Kate Sharma's mind. Despite the undeniable connection she felt with the Viscount, the Duchess of Kent and Strathearn harbored no inclination to jump to the conclusion that they were engaged in courtship. The complexity of emotions and relationships seemed to linger in the room, and she couldn't help but ponder the intricacies of the connections woven between them.
"Love and friendship, like parallel lines, should never intersect," Charlotte said, finally opened her eyes and looking directly into Kate's. "But in our story, they crossed, leaving behind a tangled web of confusion."
"So it's true?" Kate frowned.
"It's not false. But is it is not true either, Miss Sharma," she responded, and took a sip of her tea. "One can never know... And no one ever will. Not even those involved."
"I suppose sometimes if such parallel lines are buried... They should stay there," she looked down at her lap and sighed in defeat. "I only wish to protect my sister from heartbreak."
"From me or from you?" Charlotte questioned, and Kate swore she almost heard her neck crack when she turned to look at the Duchess before her.
"What are you implying?" She questioned.
"I know too well how it feels to have your heart mixed up with your head... It could cloud our character, our judgement... And it can misled us from our present purpose," she responded, calmly, with a small smile on her face. "Regardless of my background I am just a woman. An ordinary woman like any other who understands how breathtaking it is to realize...how many secrets a silence could hold."
"Nothing about you is ordinary, Ma'am," Kate expressed with sincerity. "Your wisdom is extraordinary...and admirable."
"So is my implying correct?" She questioned.
"I don't have an answer for you," she looked down at the tea in her hand, the liquid reflecting the conflict within back to her. "For I am not even sure myself."
"You'll know... All in due time, Miss Sharma," Charlotte smiled sweetly at her and placed her hand over hers. "I profoundly believe one must let their heart be the compass of life's journey, trusting that it will always steer you towards the places where your happiness awaits."
Kate found herself in conversations with the Duchess of Kent and Strathearn that she never could have anticipated. If anyone had foretold such encounters, she would have dismissed it as implausible. Yet, as she placed her hand over the Duchess's, gratitude was expressed, and a quiet admiration blossomed for the woman before her—a Duchess who wielded wisdom beyond her years.
"I will take your silence as a good sign, Miss Sharma. And I very much appreciate your bravery to talk to me about something I don't think anyone else would have dared to," Charlotte let go of her hand and took the last sip of the tea before standing up. "I must say, I don't think I've ever conversed with a woman with such topics of conversation."
"I sincerely hope that we may have the opportunity to repeat this experience at some point in the future... But of more joyful topics," Kate smiled as she stood up to greet her in farewell. "If– If you don't mind, Ma'am."
"I would love to," the Duchess smiled back. "And, please, call me Charlotte."
"It's an honor... Charlotte," she lightly chuckled, nervously, and nodded. "But only if you call me Kate."
"I'll see you at dinner then," she smirked. "Kate."
As each woman pursued her own path, a unique friendship blossomed—one marked by a depth they hadn't experienced before. Their previous discussions had focused on family, reputation, and societal expectations, but this conversation was different. It was tense yet profound, characterized by honesty and bravery. Now, both women eagerly anticipated their next meeting, craving the genuine connection and transformative conversations that had forged this newfound bond with an understanding beyond words.
ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ
"Benedict!" Colin jumped with fright when he heard his sister-in-law's call for her husband.
Colin had concealed the Duke of Kent and Strathearn throughout the rest of the morning and afternoon, keeping him away from his wife to prevent her from discovering his inexplicably altered state. Colin went so far as to assist him in preparing for the family dinner with the Sharmas and Lady Danbury. However, a wave of panic washed over him when he detected his sister-in-law's presence approaching his brother's bedroom.
"Fucking hell," Colin cursed and quickly sat Benedict down on his bed.
"Dear Colin!" She knocked on his door, making him sigh heavily.
"Yes, dear Char?" He winced as his brother started to giggle uncontrollably.
"Is that Benedict?" Charlotte could recognize her husband's giggles in a crowd. "May I come in? I have been looking for him everywhere!"
"Well..." Colin glared at his brother. "May God bless us from Charlotte's wrath."
The third-born Bridgerton, realizing the inevitability of facing his brother's altered state, abandoned the futile attempt to keep him hidden from his wife. With a deep breath, he steeled himself for the impending challenge, knowing they had a dinner engagement in a few minutes and that his brother's intoxicated state showed no signs of dissipating. Bracing for what lay ahead, he prepared to open the door for her.
"Come in, Char," Colin sighed as he stepped aside for her to come in his bedroom.
"Have you two been together all day? Because I wanted to..." Charlotte paused her words when she saw him laying down on Colin's bed, sweaty, his hair a mess, playing with his hands. "What in the world is going on with him?"
"Am I in heaven, Colin?" Benedict asked, relaxed on the bed. "I hear my wife's voice. She's calling me."
"She– Fuck. She's not dead, Benedict. Look," Colin sat him up and his brother dramatically gasped at the sight of his wife. "See? She's here. You're not dying."
"Is he drunk?" She frowned.
"I wish that were it. This would have all been more tolerable," he sighed. "But, no. He's—"
"Cherry!" Benedict yelled with pure excitement and pointed at her. "That's the King's Cherry!"
"That sounds so inappropriate," Colin winced.
"Colin Bridgerton!" Charlotte glared daggers in his direction. "God knows I never thought I'd say these words but– whatever the 'fuck' happened to my husband?"
"He was anxious about receiving word about the academy today so I gave him a bit of...a powder I brought from—"
"Are you telling me you drugged my husband?" Her eyes grew wide.
"It was just a little bit! And then I mentioned parenthood which apparently made it worse. He's the one who poured the entire bag on..." Colin stopped talking when her jaw dropped.
Before the Duchess of Kent and Strathearn could formulate a response, she was met with giggles from behind, accompanied by the embrace of two arms enveloping her. While she cherished her husband's affection, even in his inebriated state, a discomforting grunt escaped her lips as he hugged her pregnant belly a bit too tightly for her liking.
"She's with child, Benedict!" Colin scolded with panic as he pulled the two apart.
"Oh! Fuck!" The Duke of Kent and Strathearn's eyes grew wide as his wife stared at him with disbelief. "I– I am so sorry, my angel. I just love you so, so, so, so much! Have I ever told you how much I love you?"
"Benedict—"
"Because it's this big," he opened his arms widely. "So large my love for you is."
"What?" Charlotte whispered-yelled at her brother-in-law once she regained her breath. "Fix this, Colin! Fix him!"
"I can't!" He whispered-yelled back. "The– The effect must pass in a few minutes...or...hours..."
"Unbelievable," the Duchess sighed in frustration. "We have dinner with the Sharmas and Lady Danbury in a few minutes!"
"Let's go outside! My angel! Let's look at the heavens! Let's look at the stars!" Benedict exclaimed joyfully and looked directly at his wife. "Charlotte! Oh, my angel. My Venus. Let's go outside!"
Heavens. Stars. Venus.
Heavens. Stars. Venus.
Heavens. Stars. Venus.
Charlotte couldn't have anticipated hearing those words spill from her husband's lips. Unwanted memories from her childhood flooded back—recollections of staff members chasing after a King lost in incompetence or hallucinations, unable to think coherently. Her heart raced at an alarming pace, threatening to burst from her chest. Palms sweaty and breathing quickened, she found herself caught in the grip of overwhelming emotions.
"Oh, my God, Char," Colin's face softened with worry at the sight of her face paling slightly. "Are you alright? Did he hurt you when he—"
"I– I– I'll– I'll see you– I'll see you downstairs," she barely managed to say when she was out the door.
The air felt suffocating, and her heart pounded with an erratic rhythm, echoing the turbulent storm within her. As distress tightened its grip, Cora and Lilia rushed to her side, their eyes reflecting genuine concern. With soothing voices, they offered words of reassurance, attempting to pierce through the veil of anxiety that enveloped her. Lilia's gentle touch sought to anchor the Duchess to the present, while Cora, with unwavering calmness, guided her through slow and deliberate breaths.
Charlotte gradually began to synchronize her breath with Lilia's guidance. The rhythmic inhalations and exhalations acted as a lifeline, a connection to the stability she desperately sought. Cora, understanding the nuances of the Duchess' distress, softly whispered words of encouragement, invoking memories of strength and resilience.
As minutes passed, the Duchess of Kent and Strathearn felt the storm within relenting. The palpitations subsided, and the suffocating tension eased. Cora and Lilia, like steadfast anchors, remained by her side, protectively, embodying unwavering support.
In the aftermath of the storm, Charlotte, with gratitude in her eyes, nodded to Cora and Lilia. Their collective efforts had woven a tapestry of solace, and the Duchess, once ensnared by panic, emerged with a renewed sense of composure and readiness for dinner.
ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ
The Duchess of Kent and Strathearn was incredulous as she observed her husband seated before her, behaving more erratically than even her late sister, Amelia, did in her early childhood. His conduct surpassed even George's most childish antics.
Beside him, Colin sat uneasily, stealing occasional nervous glances at his brother. Charlotte couldn't help but notice his poor attempt at concealing his anxiety.
"This room is exceptionally well-lit," Benedict said, day-dreamingly, catching the attention of everyone present. "Have you noticed, Col? The twinkle of the candles, it is as– It's as if we sit among the stars."
"What is wrong with you?" Eloise asked him, confused.
"I was just telling Benedict how brilliant the stars were in Greece," Colin responded for his brother, and everyone seemed convinced with his answer.
"Sugar! Guess what..." A goofy grin plastered across his face while Colin almost choked on his drink and Charlotte stared at him in disbelief. "I think I just discovered the meaning of life!"
"Did you just call your wife 'Sugar'?" Anthony frowned, and Eloise tried to suppress a laugh.
"Are you enjoying your time here, Miss Edwina?" The Duchess of Hastings changed the subject.
"I am, very much," the youngest Sharma smiled sweetly. "The buzz of the city is thrilling indeed, but I quite enjoy the peace of the country."
"As do I. Though I dare say it is not quite so peaceful with my entire family in residence," Anthony joked.
"I understand, my lord," Edwina chuckled. "Certainly, I cannot compare my family with your seven brothers and sisters, but, my sister and I were known to be a handful growing up too."
"I can imagine," the Viscount nodded at her, but continued to stare in Kate's direction, who seemed to be in conversation with the Duchess of Kent and Strathearn and the two men in front of them.
"But Kate always has had my best interests at heart," Edwina continued. "She bears a heavy responsibility for our family."
"That sounds remarkably similar to you, Anthony," Daphne interjected, snapping her brother off his thoughts. "Much familial responsibility to bear, indeed."
"It was a revelation," their attention was grabbed by Colin who continued to tell his story, distracting all guests from Anthony and Kate's silent gazes. "Made all the better by the knowledge that I may have been the only Briton to see it in decades."
The Duke of Kent and Strathearn moaned at the taste of his meal. The situation escalated when he attempted to reach for his wine, inadvertently spilling it across the table. Leaning back, he covered his face with his hands, a shy smile emerging. The unexpected sound of his laughter prompted a transformation in his wife's expression, evolving from disbelief to infectious giggles. Witnessing her husband in this uncharacteristic state, not even comparable to his usual behavior when intoxicated, left her utterly astonished.
"Benedict, dear, you alarm our guests," Violet scolded him and slightly glared in Charlotte's direction.
"It's alright, Lady Bridgerton," Kate assured her.
"Perhaps..." Lady Danbury then clicked her knife with her glass. "...it is time for a toast."
"A good idea. To cheer our guests," Violet agreed, and Lady Mary sighed contently.
"Or to tend other pressing matters," Lady Danbury said, a smirk on her face as she noticed the impact her words made to certain people around the table.
"My– I believe my sister and I have grown rather weary," Kate spoke.
"A toast. Yes," but her words were ignored as the Viscount stood.
As everyone lifted their glasses of wine or raised their right hands, all eyes were fixed on the Viscount, anticipating his words. Unbeknownst to the gathering, beneath the table, Charlotte subtly leaned to her right and, using her left hand, clasped onto Kate's hand, silently conveying her support. Charlotte aimed to demonstrate that, regardless of the unfolding events, she stood by her side. In response to this gesture, the two women exchanged appreciative smiles, sharing a silent understanding that spoke volumes.
"My sincere gratitude to the Sharmas for joining us. It has been splendid having you here to witness what is now my second annual loss at Pall-Mall. Not to be repeated, I assure you," Anthony started, everyone lightly laughed at his statement, and he turned to face the youngest Sharma sitting next to him. "And my special gratitude to Miss Edwina. It has certainly been a privilege to truly make your acquaintance these past days. In fact, I believe there is a question I would like to ask you."
An air of anxiety and anticipation permeated the room as the moment neared for the Viscount to pose the question to Edwina Sharma. Unnoticed by the others, Charlotte and Kate maintained their grasp on each other's hands, the latter subtly increasing the pressure in tandem with the suspenseful wait for the Viscount to profess his feelings for her sister.
"I should like to, uh..." The Viscount looked around at the people on the table, but Kate looked away to ignore his gaze, so he turned to the youngest Sharma. "I should like to ask you to please refrain from telling anyone back in London about yesterday's loss. I fear the harm to my reputation would simply be too great."
The young lady offered an awkward chuckle as the Viscount raised his glass a notch higher. Kate released her grip on Charlotte's hand, exhaling a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding in.
"To the pleasant days ahead," he finished.
Everyone raised their glasses with a confusion being covered by a smile and agreement, and toasted, before everyone turned their focus on their meal.
ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ
Following dinner, each person retired to their respective rooms for the night. The Duchess of Kent and Strathearn, having changed into her nightgown, patiently awaited her husband's arrival, but he never appeared. Concerned for his well-being in his current state, she discreetly sent Lilia, Cora, Fatima, and Martin to bed to prevent her husband from potentially embarrassing himself in front of them.
Alone in her unease, she decided to seek Colin's assistance in locating Benedict, suspecting the peculiar powder might be responsible for his unusual behavior. Colin, thinking his brother might be in the room Benedict had designated as his art studio, guided her there in their joint effort to unravel the mystery.
"Are you still up?" After knocking, and getting no answer back, Colin had opened the door just in case to, evidently, find his brother, still sweating, with his fingers covered in paint, working on his canvas.
"It's magical, Brother," Benedict grabbed his brother's face in his hands and planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek. "I've allowed my doubts to plague me for too long. The Royal Academy Schools are not the arbiters of taste. The world is!"
"You are a fatwit!" Colin scoffed as his brother embraced him tighter.
"My love?" He let go at the sound of his wife's voice. "Goodness. Benedict, do let go of Colin, would you?"
"Charlotte!" Benedict exclaimed, and instead, took her face in his hands and pressed his lips on hers, a kiss so hard she could barely process what was happening before he pulled away. "I love you so much, my divine Duchess."
"I lo– love you more, my Duke," she grunted, her cheeks being squished by his hands and strength.
"Benedict, something has apparently arrived for you," Eloise's voice made him let go of her. "A letter from London."
A sigh of relief escaped Charlotte's lips as Colin arrived at her side. He tenderly caressed both of her cheeks with an apologetic expression. Then, all eyes turned to Benedict, who swiftly opened the letter and began reading its contents.
"I have a place. The Royal Schools have accepted me as a student," the Duke of Kent and Strathearn chuckled as Colin, Charlotte and Eloise grinned at him. And then he started to shout and jump in place. "I got in!"
"I thought they were not the arbiters of taste?" Colin teased.
"They must see great promise in my work. Oh my!" Benedict turned around and ran towards the window, opened it, and leaned a bit forward, scaring the life out of his wife. "You shall all bear witness to my talents!"
"Shh! It's the middle of the night!" Colin scolded him as he grabbed his brother and pushed him back inside.
"Benedict. Benedict!" Charlotte approached him and sat at the edge of the seat. However, instead of scolding him, she thought instead to express her feelings with honesty. "Congratulations, my love. I knew you'd get in!"
"Did you?" His laughter died down a bit, a small on his face. "You'd never doubt me, wouldn't you?"
"Never, my love. Never," she brushed her fingers through his sweaty hear and wiped his forehead with her sleeve. "I have never been prouder of you."
"Do you think he's proud of me?" He asked, tapping her belly with his finger, then drawing circles around it.
"He?" Her eyes grew wide. "How do you know our baby's a boy?"
"I've dreamt about him," he giggled. "Him, running towards your lap while you play the piano, seeking your attention everytime you look away..."
"Sounds like a wonderful dream," she sighed contently.
Benedict leaned in, gently encircling his arms around her, resting his head on her shoulder as he embraced her from the side. In response, Charlotte enveloped him in her arms, letting him rest against her, tenderly running her fingers through his hair while planting a heartfelt kiss on his head.
"I am honored to accept your acceptance," Benedict spoke, his wife giggled and he held tightly onto her, a smile on his face.
"You think it will last much longer?" Eloise crossed her arms over her chest as she and Colin stared at the Duke and Duchess of Kent and Strathearn.
"Well, devil if I know," Colin responded.
"Look at them," she scoffed. "Char doesn't even seem angry in the slightest."
"Oh, trust me. She is enraged," Colin lightly chuckled. "Though she knows now is not the right time to confront him."
"Who would have thought?" Eloise huffed. "Benedict, the artist, marrying a princess."
"Love had a way of sneaking up on them," Colin smiled at them, and shrugged. "Hopefully, we get the same luck too."
Author's Notes: Hello! Hello, dear readers!
I'm sorry I didn't update sooner. I'm in my last year of university. Homework and exams have kept me extraordinarily busy. So, I'm sorry, but expect slow updates, at least for a while. Professional practice and work are also time-consuming, so... Sit tight!
Thank you all for your patience, and for understanding. Though updates will be slow, I promise this book will have an ending. I'll try my best to make it perfect.
In the meantime, until next chapter!❤️