Twisted Love
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 do suppose, for some, it may be simply too late to change course and undo any damage.
Aubrey Hall, Kent
As dawn unfolded its tendrils, the Duke of Kent and Strathearn awoke to the merciless grip of the headache that accompanied his unconventional evening. The throbbing ache served as an unsolicited reminder of the peculiar events that transpired. His wife, unsurprised by the consequences of the powdered tea, observed his discomfort with a knowing look.
Unbeknownst to Benedict, Charlotte was attempting to divert her attention from the slight discomfort in her belly. While she had shared her symptoms with Fatima, her Lady of the Bedchamber, reassured her that such sensations were typical nearing her due date.
In the midst of preparing for the day, the Duke attempted numerous apologies, each uttered with a sincerity that sought forgiveness. However, his efforts were met not with understanding but rather with the brooding intensity of his wife's unyielding gaze. The air between them hung heavy with the aftermath of a night filled with strange substances and the unintended consequences that ensued.
"My angel," he approached his wife, a determined yet gentle expression adorned his face. "I've been contemplating the words to express how truly sorry I am. Recklessness overcame me."
The Duchess of Kent and Strathearn, though immersed in her book, looked up, acknowledging his words with a measured gaze. The room held a quiet tension as they navigated the delicate space between apology and forgiveness. He took a seat beside her, ensuring he had her attention.
"Please find it in your heart to forgive me for my thoughtless behavior," he continued, and sighed. "I was just so nervous about receiving word from the Royal Academy of Schools that I lost sight of reason."
"Being nervous is not an excuse to do what you did, my love. I was so concerned about your condition last night. I had never seen you like that," she stated calmly. "And...you did mention something that..."
"I don't remember much, if I'm being honest," he sighed with frustration. "What could I have possibly said that..."
The Duke's expression softened with realization, observing his wife's eyes welling up with tears. Swiftly, she brushed them away before they could cascade down her cheeks. Suppressing a sniffle, the Duchess swallowed hard, biting her tongue to stave off tears, while her husband's heart shattered with a profound sense of guilt and sympathy.
"I know you are nothing like him. You do not share my Papa's condition, and I know I shouldn't be concerned," Charlotte took a deep breath before continuing. "But– But when you said it, Benny, I was just so scared to lose you... I was so scared to lose you like I've lost him."
"No, my angel. You haven't lost me," he smiled tenderly at her. "And I promise to do everything in my power to make sure you never lose me."
"I wish I could believe you, my love... But life can be so unpredictable," she sighed, obvious sadness reflecting in her eyes. "We mustn't make promises we can't keep."
Life has an uncanny ability to unfold in unexpected ways, a truth particularly evident in the lives of the Duke and Duchess of Kent and Strathearn. Initially skeptical about the success of their marriage, they nevertheless embarked on the journey with a willingness to navigate its complexities. Surprisingly, their union is now blessed with the anticipation of their first child, a testament to the unpredictable yet joyous twists life can take.
Benedict, harboring doubts about his artistic abilities, was pleasantly astonished when he recently received an acceptance letter from the prestigious Royal Academy of Schools. This unexpected validation marks a significant turning point, challenging his preconceived notions and opening doors to a future he might not have dared to envision.
Similarly, Charlotte found herself questioning the likelihood of a love-filled marriage. Yet, against her initial expectations, she is now happily united with a man she considers the love of her life. Their love story stands as a living proof that life's twists and turns can lead to beautiful destinations, defying prior assumptions and bringing unforeseen joy.
Despite the remarkable turns life has taken in their favor, a lingering fear haunts Charlotte – the specter of her father's illness. The mere thought of Benedict possibly sharing her father's affliction had never crossed her mind, until a disconcerting pattern was alluded to during a conversation last night, awakening her latent fears and steering them down an unexpected path.
Her father, King George III, lost in the labyrinth of his mind, seems perpetually ensnared in the bygone days, a celestial tapestry woven with divine threads. His detachment from the present has not only diverted him from the responsibilities of being the monarch of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, a nation of immense historical significance, but has also distanced him from the family that yearns for his presence in more ways than one.
While Charlotte prides herself on being an independent woman, she finds an evolving sense of dependence on her husband with each passing day. This dependence transcends the physical and extends to his intellect, his voice, and his touch. The fear of losing Benedict inflicts profound pain upon her, compelling her to offer prayers daily, fervently hoping that his health will persist, shielding their shared existence from the cruel grasp of potential afflictions.
"Have I ever told you how my heart swells with an overwhelming surge of love and gratitude for having you by my side?" The Duke of Kent and Strathearn suddenly spoke after a moment of silence, making his wife scoff. "I'm being serious."
"Your kind words won't solve this matter so easily, Benedict," Charlotte slightly glared at him, though her gaze softened a bit when it met his. She didn't know if he was taking advantage of how the way he spoke made her feel or if he was being serious.
"From the very core of my being, I want you to know that you will never lose me. Ever. I make this pledge not out of mere obligation but as a testament to the profound love that binds us," he took her hands in his, squeezed them lightly as his own eyes started to wet with tears. "Every second of every day, my thoughts are consumed by the mere idea of you. You, Charlotte... Your radiant smile, the warmth of your touch, and the incredible presence that fills the spaces around me."
A gentle laughter escaped the lips of the Duchess of Kent and Strathearn in response to his words, prompting her to release his hand momentarily. A single tear had traced its path down his cheek, and she, moved by an affectionate impulse, delicately wiped it away. It was among the many aspects she cherished about him—the profound sincerity that allowed him to embrace vulnerability in her presence.
With a tenderness that spoke volumes, her husband leaned into the touch, trusting her hand as it cradled his cheek. The gentle caress of her thumb against his features became a silent language, an unspoken reassurance that vulnerability only strengthened the bond they shared. In those intimate moments, she found solace in the authenticity of their connection, a connection that thrived on the beauty of openness and trust.
"Did it work?" He suppressed a smile, his eyes not looking away from hers as she lightly scoffed in disbelief.
"I think I'm forgiving you too easily," she stated, and he giggled sheepishly.
"Good," Benedict nodded. "Because I can't stand another minute knowing you are angry with me."
"I am not, my love. Not anymore," she sighed contently. "Unfortunately for me, but fortunately for you, you know how to use my weakness against me."
"The Duchess of Kent and Strathearn has a weakness?" His eyes grew wide, the shock in his voice made her giggle. "Who would have thought?"
"Of course I have. It is you," she sweetly smiled at him. "You are my greatest strength and my greatest weakness all at once... Who would have thought?"
"I understand how you feel, for you are mine," he looked deeply into her eyes as she brushed her hand through his hair. "My greatest strength, my weakness... Also, my greatest achievement."
"Oh, goodness—"
Benedict silenced her with a kiss, a collision of lips where he cradled her face with a blend of strength and delicacy—urgency laced with tender care. In that moment, she responded in kind, a reciprocal kiss that echoed with a depth of passion not felt in quite some time.
However, their private moment of intimacy was abruptly interrupted by Luna. With a joyful bark, Luna bounded towards them, tail wagging with unrestrained enthusiasm. The Duke and Duchess, momentarily taken aback, couldn't help but chuckle at the whimsical intrusion.
"Repeat your actions from last night, and you'll find your head displayed on a basket," Charlotte whispered against his lips. "Which will be later fed to the pigs."
"Right... Yes, my angel," he swallowed nervously as she leaned back from him. "Also, I meant to ask... Have you spoken to my brother?"
"Which one?" She questioned. "I am yet to talk to dear Colin who is smart enough to avoid me at this moment."
"Be easy on Colin, my angel. It's not his fault," her husband gave her a knowing look. "Also... He is not who I meant."
"Still, the answer is no," she stated calmly.
"Last night everyone expected Anthony to propose, and he didn't," he sighed. "I just– I think he needs someone to talk to."
"Must it be me?" Charlotte scoffed. "In other circumstances, I would have gone out of my way to try and help him the best I can, but in our last conversation he expressed with such clarity how he doesn't and won't ever need my help."
"It is all lies! Ridiculous lies! My brother loves you!" Benedict exclaimed, and chuckled. "He loves you, there's no denying it. You are his closest confidante, Char. He trusts you to converse these matters way more than he would with me, Colin, or Daph—"
Luna's bark abruptly interrupted the Duke of Kent and Strathearn. As she turned towards the door, the Duke and Duchess followed her gaze, only then realizing that Miss Edwina Sharma was discreetly peering through the door, potentially privy to their entire conversation.
"Is– Is there– Your Royal Highnesses..." She took a deep breath and made a curtsy for them.
"Miss Edwina," Benedict stood up while his wife remained seated. "Is there anything we can help you with?"
"I– I seem to have lost my sister," she nervously tried to explain. "She did not mention where she was going."
"I think I saw Miss Sharma by the stables this morning," Charlotte said, and smiled warmly at her. "I'm sure she'll be back at any moment now."
"Of course, Ma'am," Charlotte's face softened at the sight of the young lady's tears in her eyes. "Excuse me, Your Royal Highnesses."
In stunned silence, the youngest Sharma sibling vanished behind the forcefully closed doors. Benedict's eyes widened in surprise, and he glanced down at his wife, who remained seated, rendered momentarily speechless by the abrupt departure. The echoes of the slamming doors reverberated in the room, leaving an unexpected tension hanging in the air.
"Did you really had to say 'My brother loves you!' so loudly? Twice?" Charlotte gasped. "No wonder why Miss Edwina seemed so distressed."
"I doubt it is because of anything I said," he shook his head. "Yesterday, she expected a proposal."
"May Anthony's mind soon clear, bringing much needed clarity to the anxious anticipation that fills the air," the smallest of smiles graced her face. "Even if it ends up gifting us a new Viscountess, or not."
"Where are you going?" Benedict asked her as he helped her stand.
"I'm going to help Mother and Daph with the Ball's arrangements," she grunted a bit, and chuckled. "It seems your child can't wait to be out of my insights since he or she cannot stop kicking."
"Come, now. Behave with Mama, you...little creature," he giggled at his own words. "Truthfully, I cannot wait until you are physically here...with us."
"Neither can I," she lightly sighed. "Can't wait for the pain to seize."
"Are you in pain?" His eyes grew wide.
"It's– It's just discomfort, my love," she smiled at him with reassurance. "Nothing to be concerned about."
Benedict tenderly planted a kiss over the dress on the swell of his wife's pregnant belly before capturing her lips in an affectionate embrace. Afterwards, he lingered behind to dedicate a bit more time to his art. As she gracefully departed, he remained engrossed in his work. Meanwhile, Charlotte extended her assistance to the Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton and the Duchess of Hastings, who were actively overseeing the intricate details of the decorations and preparations for the impending ton's arrival.
If the Ancient Greeks were members of the ton, they might have added to their Olympic pentathlon one additional event.
The hosting of a country visit.
This, of course, is the week of Lady Bridgerton's annual Hearts and Flowers Ball, the year's most coveted invitation in the country, and no event better designed to show the might and mettle of its host.
"Miss Patridge requires large amounts of sugar for her morning tea, and Lord Abernathy, he will refuse to eat any meat that is not well cooked while Lady Abernathy will only consume ner meat bloody, I am told," Violet chuckled. "And make sure you put an extra blanket on Lord Weston's bed. I hear he feels the cold."
"The roses and carnations have arrived, Ma'am," one of the maids informed the ladies of the house.
"You may wish to add in lilac, Mama. Symbolic of first love," Daphne intervened. "And perhaps make the bouquets even bigger."
"I have taught you well," Violet smiled at her daughter with pride just as her daughter-in-law approached them.
"If there is truly to be a proposal before the week is out, Anthony will need all the help he can get," Daphne smiled at her mother.
"Did he say that?" Charlotte stared at them with disbelief. "The Viscount requires help?"
"Are you two still mad at one another?" Daphne wondered, and her mother's eyes grew wide.
"What did my son do now?" Violet sighed. "I believe it is the first time you two have ever fought since I met you."
"Just a small argument, Mother. Nothing to be concerned about. Really," Charlotte sighed and proceeded to explain. "The Viscount may have mentioned that he doesn't and won't ever need my help."
"Oh," Violet chuckled, but her smile faded when she realized the Duchess of Kent and Strathearn was being serious. "You do know that is a lie, right, Char? Anthony regards you so highly. He will always need you."
"I appreciate your words, Mother. But until he says otherwise, I will not intervene in any way or say a single word to that man," she stated calmly, and smirked. "On that note, I will change the subject. Just so you know, I have already arranged the places of all bouquets, tables and chairs by the garden. The refreshments too."
"Oh! I was about to do that, my dear. Thank you so much," Violet took her hands in hers. "But from now on, I prohibit you from helping me organize this Ball. You are with child! You must rest! It is the least I can do for you, the mother of my second grandchild."
"Of all people, you should know that only because I am with child does not mean I am useless," she slightly glared at the two women in front of her. "I am happy to help in any way that I can."
"Do not hate me for what I am about to say, but I agree with Mama, Char," Daphne spoke. "This is no ordinary child. It is a Bridgerton, and one day, the heir to the throne."
Charlotte found it challenging to articulate her weariness at constantly hearing about the significance of doing nothing during her pregnancy, given that the child in her belly would be the future heir to the throne, and how everything must be flawless. Instead, she chose to appreciate the good intentions behind everyone's words and nodded in agreement.
ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ
The Duke of Kent and Strathearn remained unaware of his older brother's entrance until he reached for one of the fruits from the bowl he was meticulously incorporating into his canvas, using the paint thoughtfully gifted by his wife.
"I was painting that," Benedict complained to his brother.
Anthony Bridgerton's leg bounced with a mix of anxiety and frustration. The storm in his heart, preventing him from proposing to Edwina, was matched by the tempest of unresolved issues with his sister-in-law, Charlotte. He longed to share the details of his day, the complexities of his feelings, and the unexpected presence of Kate in his thoughts. Yet, the rift between him and Charlotte, born out of a minor argument, held him back. It pained him not to have her by his side—the confidante, the best friend, the person he turned to for advice and understanding.
"Do you think all of this was a mistake?" The Viscount questioned, out loud, finally. "This business of inviting the Sharmas out early? It has made the whole affair so fraught with difficulty."
"The whole marriage-mart business seems entirely too difficult to me. Thank God I must no longer worry on that matter," Benedict stated and walked towards the window to open it. "But if one must participate in it, Why not do it...in the fresh air?"
The Viscount opted for silence, releasing a weighty sigh. His thoughts raced at breakneck speed, stumbling over one another, entwined in a blend of emotions from both heart and mind.
"Certainly I know your argument with my wife did not make it any more easy," Benedict couldn't help taking advantage of his brother's silence to mention his unnecessary argument with his wife. "You're being unfair. Charlotte has done nothing but support you through it all."
"I didn't mean anything I said to her," Anthony sighed. "I just... I haven't apologized because—"
"You're too proud?" He cut him off. "Egotistical?"
"Maybe? Wait– No," he frowned. "I just... I haven't found the right words to say."
"How about 'I'm sorry' or 'I apologize', or 'You are right. I have been a jerk since this whole finding-a-wife-thing started'," Benedict mentioned, and scoffed. "I'd be lying if I say she's been miserable without you because she's not– but—"
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Anthony glared at his brother.
"What I meant was that I know you wish to talk to her and tell her everything you wouldn't tell anyone else because it is her... She is...she," he walked back to his painting. "And, regardless of it all... We both know she will listen... And she will forgive you... Because my wife is the best human being to ever walk this earth."
"Be honest with me, Benedict. Does it bother you?" He then wondered. "Does it bother you that your wife is my greatest confidente?"
"Of course it did, at first... But now I'm used to it. As a matter of fact, I am grateful," the Duke of Kent and Strathearn lightly smiled. "It brings me comfort to know that, if anything were to happen to me, Charlotte will still have people in her life who care for her...and our children... And I'm very proud and relieved to know one of the main is you."
"I'm honored and utterly in awe by your words, Brother," Anthony lightly smiled at him. "Who would have thought that marriage life would help you mature to the man you are now."
"I have a considerable journey ahead before I can truly embody the essence of mature manhood," Benedict said, sincerely. "But, yes... Life with Charlotte has indeed caused such effect on me."
The Viscount couldn't deny that he needed Charlotte in his life; Benedict, being his brother and closest in age, was a significant presence, but certain matters were better left unspoken within the family. When shared with Charlotte, these concerns felt heard, creating a sense of security. She had always been his confidante, his closest friend, akin to a dear sister. However, as days passed with mutual silence, he yearned to mend the rift, find the right words, apologize, and never endure such estrangement again.
"Benny? Are you in here?" In the distance, both men heard the sound of her voice, and were immediately focused on her presence that had gone through the door. "Oh, my love, I hadn't realized that you were busy."
"I was working on this," Benedict showed her the unfinished canvas and proceeded to glare at his brother. "Until someone decided to eat one of the fruits I was painting."
"I'm sorry to hear that, my love," she lightly sighed. "Maybe you could find that same fruit from another bowl and try to place it exactly as it once was?"
"I'll see what I can do, but thank you for your help. Always. You're the best of the best," he decided to tease his brother by using those exact words as he approached his wife and pecked her lips. "But for now, I'm all yours. I see you were looking for me?"
"Oh, just to inform you that I'm going to our room to get ready. Guests are starting to arrive," she said, not looking away from his eyes. "And you might as well inform his lordship as well."
"I'm right here," Anthony stated.
"If you see him, of course. I haven't seen him," she stated calmly, a fake smile on her face. "So strange, no? It's like he's suddenly...vanished from existence."
"I wish that were the case," Benedict smirked. "Otherwise, I could finish my painting in peace."
"Oh, well," a smile graced her lips, thankful for having her husband on her side. "We can only dream."
"Bloody hell," the Viscount muttered to himself as he rolled his eyes.
"Ich liebe dich, mein Engel," he leaned down to kiss her lips and grinned. I love you, my angel. "I'll see you in a bit."
"Ich liebe dich, Eure Königliche Hoheit," she pecked his kips one last time and took steps back from him. I love you, Your Royal Highness.
"Don't start something you can't finish," he teased and laughed when she gasped at his words.
"And I'm officially disturbed," Anthony spoke out loud, but both the Duke and Duchess of Kent and Strateharn successfully ignored him with blissful smiles.
As Charlotte prepared to leave, she stole one final glance at her husband's eyes. There was a silent communication, a message she couldn't dismiss. His gaze briefly shifted towards his brother, then he sighed and returned to his canvas. In that moment, Charlotte realized the ripple effect of her argument with Anthony, impacting not just her husband but also his brother.
"My love... Please do inform dear Anthony his horse has unfortunately fallen ill..." Her eyes gazed into the Viscount's while she spoke. "I know he didn't ask for my help. But, nonetheless, inform him I have personally asked Martin to let him borrow his horse, to which he has accepted."
"Jasper!" Benedict grinned and looked at his brother. "You lucky bastard. Jasper is the best horse ever."
"Is that so?" Charlotte playfully glared at him. "Then I'll make sure to order Snow to make you fall into the nearest abyss."
"Wait! No! No– I didn't—"
"Goodbye, Benedict!" The Duchess of Kent and Strathearn stated calmly as she walked out of the room.
ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ
Anticipation ripples through the ton each year as the prospect of Lady Bridgerton's Heart and Flowers Ball looms on the social horizon. It's a highly coveted occasion, and with good reason. To secure a coveted spot on the Bridgerton's exclusive guest list for one of the most highly anticipated events of the social season is akin to being granted a badge of honor within the aristocracy.
In the present moment, with a steady influx of guests gracing the occasion, the ton has assembled within the vast expanse of Aubrey Hall's main garden. A spectacle of grandeur unfolds amidst the carefully manicured greenery, where the air is infused with melodies, courtesy of an ensemble playing harmonious tunes. The fragrant whispers of blooming flowers mingle with the hum of lively conversations as attendees partake in the merriment.
Aubrey Hall's garden, adorned with its natural splendor, serves as the idyllic backdrop for this social gathering. The atmosphere is alive with the symphony of laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the joyful cadence of various games in progress. It is a scene painted with the vibrancy of high society, where the blending of music, refreshments, and playful activities creates an immersive experience for all those present.
"Lady Bridgerton certainly knows how to host," Kate Sharma told the Duchess of Kent and Strathearn as they walked together amongst the people. "Throughout the day, the prevailing theme has been the resounding excitement echoing from everyone about the upcoming Ball."
"It is no surprise, for it is, after all, one of the most highly anticipated events of the season," Charlotte mentioned, proudly. "Though it is a shame Her Majesty is not in attendance, it is for the right reasons, I assure you."
"Is it alright if I want to know the particular reason?" She wondered.
"Her Majesty wishes to not be too far from the King," she lightly sighed. "We've just gotten back from Dublin, so she wished to stay behind. As most of the time, I will represent the Crown in her place."
"That's sweet of Her Majesty," Kate then grew slightly concerned when Charlotte winced. "Are you alright?"
"Yes! Yes, just– just a mild discomfort," she sighed heavily. "I've been feeling like this since this morning."
"Hopefully everything is alright and your baby is healthy and well," Kate smiled at that.
"Kate!" Suddenly, they heard the youngest of the Sharma sisters calling for them. Edwina was sitting with Anthony. "Your Royal Highness! Please, come sit with us."
"Has your argument with Lord Bridgerton been settled, Char?" She asked the Duchess, who didn't look so pleased by her sister's suggestion as they approached their table.
"I haven't forgotten the two baskets of gratitude I owe you, Kate," she responded calmly. "Would you like a third?"
"What would this basket hold?" Kate questioned.
"I thought of fruits, flowers, some books I've read that I'd love to share with you," Charlotte responded, and sighed. "But at this point of time, I'd say you name your price as long as you manage to irritate his lordship."
"I like the way you think, Char," Kate lightly smirked. "Though, two baskets is fine."
"Does that mean you and the Viscount have found common ground, Kate?" Charlotte questioned.
"No," she lightly sighed. "But I promised my sister I would try."
"Then, I wish you good luck," she lightly smiled.
The Duchess of Kent and Strathearn found it peculiar to ignore or harbor resentment towards the Viscount. Each time, she had to mentally replay the situation to rekindle her anger towards him.
"Your Royal Highness," the man stood to greet the two women.
"Lord Bridgerton," she stared pointedly at him before slowly moving to sit down, and he pulled up the chair for her to sit. Only then, she decided to not ignore him, for Miss Edwina's sake. "Thank you, my lord."
"A pleasure," a tight smile graced his face. "Miss Sharma."
"Lord Bridgerton," she greeted him back.
The Duchess of Kent and Strathearn's gaze oscillated between Anthony and Kate, sensing an indescribable tension permeating the air. A palpable undercurrent of emotions lingered, concealed within both parties, their true nature remaining an enigma. It could be a mélange of sentiments – perhaps anger, frustration, melancholy, understanding, sensitivity, or even love. In the labyrinth of unspoken feelings, Charlotte found herself navigating a complex terrain, unsure of the emotional landscape that lay beneath the surface.
The nuances of the relationships between herself, the Sharma sisters, and the Viscount painted a peculiar tableau. There existed a subtle yet unmistakable dynamism, an intricately woven tapestry of connections that felt slightly contrived. The exchanges carried an air of strangeness, as if unspoken words hung in the atmosphere, creating a delicate dance of emotions.
"Did you tell the Viscount about your bee sting?" Edwina asked her sister, sadness in her eyes.
"I got stung," Kate lightly chuckled.
"Ah," Anthony nodded.
"I am well," Kate added.
"Ah," Anthony simply nodded again.
As the Duchess of Kent and Strathearn observed this interplay, she couldn't dismiss the awareness of an intricate web of unspoken emotions. It was a delicate balance, a silent understanding of sentiments that lurked beneath the surface. The dynamics, though slightly forced, carried an air of mystery, leaving Charlotte intrigued yet cautious about the complexities that lay ahead in this peculiar social weave.
"Kate was telling me how she is eager to see more of the grounds of this magniticent estate," Edwina spoke.
"I was?" Her sister faked a smile.
"After having spent the last few days on her own," she ignored her. "Might you give her a tour today while I spend time with the other ladies and Her Royal Highness?"
"I am certain Lord Bridgerion is occupied with other guests," Kate stated calmly.
"Shooting, infact with the other gentlemen," the Viscount informed them. "The party is to leave quite soon, I'm afraid."
"Did you know Kate is an excellent shot?" Edwina asked the Viscount with excitement.
"Of course she is," he suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and chuckled.
"What was that, my lord?" Charlotte questioned.
"What was what?" He frowned.
"Are we all set for the hunt, Brother?" Just in time, the Duke of Kent and Strathearn approached them and patted his brother's shoulders.
"Indeed we are," Anthony stood.
"Kate, tell him how you used to shoot all the time," Edwina insisted.
"Miss Edwina—"
"Kate is being modest," she said, but the Viscount continued to laugh.
"Do you not think it true?" Kate frowned.
"Perhaps your sister aims straight on the field, but surely she would have some trouble managing—"
"Why would you assume I had any trouble managing at all, my lord?" Kate questioned, angrily.
"I only mean to say—"
"Is it because she is a woman?" Charlotte almost snapped.
"No– No! I did not say that," Anthony stated.
"But you thought it," Kate stated firmly.
Anthony's gaze fixated on Charlotte and Kate with a sense of disbelief, juxtaposed by Benedict's amused chuckle at the unfolding interplay. However, the levity swiftly evaporated from Benedict's expression as he found himself on the receiving end of glares from both his brother and his wife. The once-present smile on Benedict's face vanished instantly, replaced by a more sober demeanor in response to the disapproving looks he received.
"Ladies do not hunt," the Viscount stated.
"Do not, or are not allowed to?" Kate questioned.
"I am certain Lady Danbury can spare a maid to act as chaperone," Edwina grinned. "Oh, what fun you will all have. Getting to know each other all the better."
"What an excellent idea, Miss Edwina," Benedict smiled.
"An excellent idea, indeed," Charlotte stared at the Viscount. "Though, my lord, I am confused! I do not remember you complaining all those years ago when you wanted to take me with your hunting party... To watch you hunt, specifically... And you taught me how to shoot! Do you remember that, Benny?"
"Actually—"
"It is a yes or no answer, my love," Charlotte cut him off.
"Yes! Yes, I was going to say...yes. I remember it like it was yesterday," Benedict smiled at his wife and looked at his brother, placing his arm on his shoulder, a chill running down the Viscount's spine by the Duchess' cold stare. "Let Miss Sharma join us, Brother. We are on our private lands, after all. And who knows? Perhaps Miss Sharma can teach you a thing or two."
"Oh, please do, Kate," Charlotte smirked at her. "After all, I do not remember Lord Bridgerton being a good shot."
"First name?" Anthony thought out loud, and regretted it when a smug smirk graced the eldest Sharma's face.
"I will certainly do my best, Char. Perhaps he might learn a thing or two," Kate looked at him and winked in the Duchess' direction.
"Oh, my lord, quite a dear friendship has grown between Miss Sharma and I," Charlotte then looked at him. "An unbreakable one, I dare say."
"Indeed," Kate continued to smirk.
"This is wonderful!" Edwina gasped with excitement. "Isn't it wonderful, sir?"
"Wonderful and equally terrifying indeed," Benedict admitted as he looked down at his wife with a loving look.
Having exchanged wishes of good luck, Anthony and Kate departed to prepare for their departure, leaving Edwina to excuse herself momentarily for a refreshment with the promise of a swift return. Seizing the moment with the departure of others, the Duke of Kent and Strathearn positioned himself in front of his wife, his gaze revealing a knowing look. Simultaneously, the Duchess of Kent and Strathearn's countenance betrayed nothing but mischief, setting the stage for an intriguing exchange between the married couple.
ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ
"Tell me, Duchess," the Duchess of Hastings sat next to her sister-in-law. "Tell me everything you know about Miss Edwina."
"I'd love to, Duchess, but I must admit we have not conversed much, Miss Edwina and I," the Duchess of Kent and Strathearn responded. "But is there anything in particular that you'd like to know?"
"I merely wish to know her better for Anthony. I wish to explore her mind, if possible," Daphne spoke lowly, and sighed. "Be honest with me. Do you think Miss Edwina is a good choice for Anthony?"
"I'd be lying if I say I consider Miss Edwina to be a bad choice for him," Charlotte responded lowly. "However... I can't declare them a match made in Heaven either."
"Whatever do you mean?" Daphne asked.
"I suppose... I– I just can't imagine Anthony being in a dynamic of constant fantasy and sick-pretend-perfection," she responded, with sincerity. "However, I do see him in a more challenging dynamic, where what he says is questioned for the better, where everything feels more...real and natural."
"I entirely agree with you, Char," the Duchess of Hastings nodded, and just in time, stayed quiet when the woman of the hour approached them. "Miss Edwina! Would you like to play cards with us?"
"I'd be my pleasure, Your Grace," the young girl smiled as she sat down with them at the small table. "Your Royal Highness."
Arching an eyebrow, the Duchess of Kent and Strathearn observed the Duchess of Hastings shuffling the cards, a subtle smirk gracing her features. Daphne Bridgerton, intent on acquainting herself better with Edwina Sharma, saw this as her opportune moment. Bolstered by confidence and anticipating valuable insights, she strategically aligned herself with Charlotte, trusting in their combined efforts to glean more information.
As one surveyed the garden, a picturesque scene unfolded, with young ladies engrossed in various wooden games, relishing their time in each other's company, deliberately distancing themselves from the presence of men.
"Hopefully, the festivities are living up to your expectations, Miss Edwina?" The Duchess of asked her as they started playing.
"Very much, Your Grace," the youngest Sharma smiled. "You and your Mama are such diligent hostesses. You as well, Ma'am. I so look forward to hosting my own gatherings one day."
"Well, there is certainly pleasure to be had in acting as hostess," Daphne said. "Though, between us, I think you will find there is no greater pleasure than enjoying your home alone with your family. With your husband, as long as you choose the right one."
"That's right, Your Grace," Charlotte agreed with her as she took her turn. "One's family can be overwhelming sometimes. When it is just you and your husband, you'll find, Miss Edwina, how it is to have someone you don't ever want to be apart from."
"I do think I know what i desire in a match," Edwina nodded.
"And what is that?" Daphne smiled with triumph.
"I should like to be with someone kind and gentle," she smiled. "Someone like your brother. He's so even-tempered."
"Anthony? Even-tempered?" Both Daphne and Charlotte chuckled at that.
"You would both not describe him as such?" She wondered.
"Well, not exactly," the Duchess of Hastings disagreed, and the Duchess of Kent and Strathearn could only nod.
"Well, perhaps I bring out the very best in him," she looked at them. "And is that not what a good marriage should mean? Bringing out each other's best?"
"It is indeed, Miss Edwina," Charlotte lightly nodded, a small smile on her face.
"Has your sister gone off somewhere?" Daphne asked her.
"Hunting. With your brother, in fact," she responded. "I am having them spend the day together in the hopes of their finally finding common ground. It seems the two of them do not exactly see eye-to-eye on occasion.A good plan, is it not?"
"Well, certainly an intriguing one," Daphne looked at her sister-in-law, who sighed and shrugged as a response while the youngest Sharma chuckled.
"Oh, Ma'am, I did not realize you grew close with my sister," Edwina said. "I'm so very glad you like one another. You'll teach her what it's like to be a sister-in-law to the Viscount."
"There is not much difference to how it was before, really. The Viscount and I have a long history together, and..." Charlotte explained. "I suppose that has influenced on how we treat one another."
"History of?" She questioned.
"A quite a dear friendship and, understanding too," she nodded. "I would also help him with most of his political affairs as Viscount, mostly."
"That's very true," Daphne nodded. "Her Royal Highness has always been the closest friend of my brother. And, if I may add, she's been like a mentor for me and my sisters too."
"I would be honored to receive wisdom from Her Royal Highness," the youngest Sharma smiled sweetly at her. "Especially so I could help the Viscount with his political affairs as well."
"Well, as Viscountess, you wouldn't be overseen his political affairs," Daphne added. "Not literally."
"Your role as Viscountess Bridgerton, Miss Edwina, will be mostly involved in managing household affairs, overseeing social events, helping Eloise, and Francesca and Hyacinth find a husband, and participating in charitable activities," Charlotte explained, and lightly sighed. "All meanwhile you are, of course, a loving and supportive wife– and hopefully, a mother as well."
"Your knowledge of the Viscountess Bridgerton's role is quite impressive, Ma'am," Edwina said, nervously. "Prepared to assume the role as if you were already in it."
"I have known the Bridgertons for quite a long time, Miss Edwina. I know the Viscount and his preferred methods well enough," a tight smile graced her face. "I also know each of the roles of those who belong in the British peerage system."
Tension filled the air, and Charlotte worried she had mishandled the conversation. Meanwhile, Daphne sensed an ominous unease gnawing at her chest, hinting at impending events she couldn't quite grasp.
"You are quite beautiful, Ma'am... You are perfect in every way, and way more sophisticated than I am," Edwina suddenly expressed, sincerity in her voice, and took a deep breath before continuing. "The more I get to know you, the more I understand why Lord Bridgerton is so captivated by you."
"Miss Edwina, I– I'm afraid I do not understand," she realized the youngest Sharma was serious.
"I've been meaning to ask..." She sighed. "Do you love him?"
"Miss Edwina—"
"Pardon me, Your Grace. Please," the Duchess of Hasting's face softened when she saw the pain in her eyes and the desperation for an honest answer. "Please. With all due respect, Ma'am, I will not tell your husband, for we have barely ever spoken. But I– I need to know... Do you love Lord Bridgerton?"
"Yes, I do love him," Charlotte said sincerely, and lightly shook her head. "But not in the way you think."
"Ma'am?" The young Sharma wanted for her to elaborate further.
"Aside from my husband, I love all his family equally, with all my heart. And that of course includes Lord Bridgerton, who I consider one of my closest friends, and another brother at that," she explained with a reassuring smile. "I have considered them my family even before I officially joined them by marriage."
"That's very nice of you," Edwina slightly nodded, with a nervous smile.
"And I must add, if in the end, Lord Bridgerton chooses to marry you... You, your mother and sister will become my family," Charlotte grinned as the young girl let out a shaky and a nervous breath. "Which means I will care for you very much as well."
"I shall get myself some...biscuits," she slowly and shyly stood up. "Would you like some, Your Royal Highness? Your Grace?"
"I'm alright, but thank you, Miss Edwina," Charlotte said while her sister-in-law simply shook her head, and the young Sharma walked away. "Oh, poor thing."
"Now... I do not intend to sound rude, but..." The Duchess of Hastings doubted for a moment before continuing. "I mean, you know my brother... I just don't think Anthony would take well such outburst. If he were here, he would certainly have something to say about the way Miss Edwina talked to you, and what she said."
"Hopefully nothing like this ever happens again. Though I appreciate her honesty," Charlotte said, then sighed. "Speaking of honesty... Does it appear to you that we might end up being 'family' one way or another?"
"Oh, Sister," Daphne chuckled and sighed in relief. "I am so relieved to know I am not the only one."
"I thought so too!" She whispered-yelled with excitement. "It's just...Miss Sharma."
"I know! Miss Sharma. She is just so...him, you know?" Both women chuckled at each other's opinions.
"She challenges him in her own way, and he challenges her in his own way. Now, that's something– dare I say, I'd 'match'," Charlotte said, but shook her head. "Nonetheless, the course of this courtship does not seem to be ending up that way."
"But do you think both want it to go that way?" Daphne wondered.
"I think they do, but..." She lightly chuckled. "They are both just so... 'them', they scarcely acknowledge it, not even to their own awareness."
"I would offer my advice, but Anthony would never listen to me," she remarked, but then, raised an eyebrow at her sister-in-law. "On the other hand..."
"No—"
"Char—"
"Daph, no," she stated calmly. "I do not want to get involved. Miss Edwina just unintentionally made me feel like a villain! Do I really hold that much power over your brother? No! He is his own man, capable of making his own decisions—"
"I'm just saying, he might listen to you," the Duchess of Hastings suggested. "He always listens to you, actually."
"He didn't listen to me when he said he didn't need my help, and he would never ask for it," the Duchess of Kent and Strathearn stated calmly. "He is just as stubborn as a mule."
"I'd never disagree on that," Daphne sighed. "But admit it... You miss him."
"Slightly," although Charlotte reflected on it, and she couldn't deny it entirely. She did miss talking to him. "Do you think we'll ever talk again?"
"I'm astonished it has lasted this long," Daphne's chuckle made Charlotte giggle, but then winced in pain. "Char! Are you alright?"
"It's just– I've been feeling these mild cramps since this morning," she sighed heavily. "But lately, they've gotten so...intense. And there's this pressure—"
"Prithee, Sister, hath thy waters been released?" She asked.
"Water?" The Duchess of Kent and Strathearn questioned. "Is there supposed to be water?"
"It vexes me to discover that you were not apprised of this beforehand, but I presume it was to spare you undue anxiety," Daphne proceeded to explain. "Your own body will let you know once you are ready for childbirth by dropping...few drops of...some sort of water."
"As if... I had..." Charlotte trailed off with embarrassment.
"I'm afraid so. You cannot prevent it. It happened to me as well," Daphne lightly smiled at her. "I shall inform Mama you are feeling unwell—"
"No! No, Sister. I wouldn't want to miss your Mama's Ball. Not after all the effort and time we have all put into it," she lightly smiled back. "I'll be alright. Besides, it will be my first Bridgerton Ball...as a Bridgerton."
"I do not agree with this, but I suppose I must...for I know you can be as a stubborn as a mule," the Duchess of Hastings smirked. "Particularly similar to someone we both know."
"Do not even say it," Charlotte scoffed.
Author's Notes: Hello, dear readers!
Sorry to keep you waiting so long. I kind of got a writer's block with this book in particular, but the plot is slowly coming back together.
I'm tempted to have Charlotte pop out her baby now. I want her and Benedict to be parents so badly!
However short that may be...
(Now, what does that mean? Only time will tell)
Thank you for your patience. And if you read this chapter, then it means you have not lost faith in me or in this book. Thank you! I'm grateful. I swear I will finish this book one day.
Until next chapter!❤️