#Bridgerton au ff

[snowbellewells]

@kmomof4 Okay, so I going to try to review this right after reading - even though I have literal tears in my eyes - because I want to try not to leave anything out. However, there was SO MUCH GOODNESS, that I probably will miss something. Just know that this update was incredible, and very special to me, and I loved it IMMENSELY!! 🥰❤️🥰

Okay, so maybe the best thing I can tell you about JUST HOW GREAT this chapter is, is that I have it pulled up on AO3 simultaneously so I can make sure to include all the best passages and quote them. I hardly ever do that, just reblog from Tumblr with my favorite one (it only lets me highlight one while I am reblogging, for some reason) so that’s just how important it was to include more this time around.

Anyway - you got me early with a direct hit right to the heart. I loved Ruby thinking about Graham over breakfast, and just how much happiness - a smile - could change his whole aspect. It was so brilliant and perfect, I couldn’t help but swoon: “Well, when he smiled, he was transformed. She’d never understood why the ladies had always giggled and swooned when her brother David smiled, but now she did. Sir Graham went from surly and cantankerous to full of humor and mischief, as if he was the holder of all kinds of secrets and delighted in that knowledge. Besides being devastatingly handsome, of course. But it wasn’t the smile itself that had her swooning internally. After all, with all her brothers, she considered herself quite immune to devilish smirks and twinkling eyes. When Graham smiled, there was a shyness about it, as if he wasn’t accustomed to smiling at a lady, and it was that, more than anything, that told her they just might be made for each other.”

Then, not knowing where Graham might be, Ruby prepares to make some progress with his children instead. Honestly, I loved how open they were to her - once she got rid of their genuinely unpleasant-seeming nursemaid. (My heart hurt for them at the mention of Johanna having to leave them too. She had probably their best true, happy, nurturing influence.) It was pretty adorable, really, how fast they warmed up to her after that and the offer to take them swimming. Ava is particular was really cute, but you can see Nicholas wants to line her more than he lets on as well… 😉 Ruby has a real knack with them, and you can see here how well she might indeed fit in and benefit their family as a whole unit. Not, only that, but it tugs at the heartstrings pleasantly too to see the way Nicholas and Ava remind Ruby of good times with her own siblings growing up, and her reminiscing how much she had loved time in the country - and that she had maybe missed it more than she realized.

Okay, and then, I really was melting… Sir Graham comes back from his greenhouses, having spent an hour choosing the very best of his roses to craft the perfect bouquet for Ruby 💐💖💐 But he can’t find her anywhere. Then he learns she and the children have gone swimming - and my heart kicked into panic overdrive for him. That was where Jacinda drowned, where he failed to save her, where he told his children never to go, and now they and Miss Jones are there… you could just see his trauma and anxiety go through the roof. I wanted to get inside the story and tell him to calm down and yet to comfort him and tell him I understood at the same time! I knew his furious - driven by worry - reaction was coming, but that didn’t make it less harsh! Poor Nicholas and Ava! And Ruby’s surprise, and her affront that he thought they were doing anything wrong is so well done, and so suited to her as well.

But after the children are gone, when Ruby challenges him and reveals that his children can indeed swim - quite well in fact - then he genuinely is hit by all the regret and hurt and self-blame, and everything at once. He was BREAKING MY HEART, Krystal! Right along with Ruby’s!! This bit: “For a moment, Graham felt like he couldn’t breathe. It was like a bolt of lightning from the clear blue sky, freezing him in his place. This moment brought all of his failings as a father to the forefront of his mind, and Graham was completely overwhelmed. His jaw worked, his fingers clenched at his sides, his lungs caught, and he could do nothing but try to remain upright against the onslaught. It was the worst feeling he’d ever experienced in his life.

It wasn’t that his children could swim, it was that he didn’t know they could swim. How could he have not known? A father should know if his children could swim. Or ride a horse. Or read. Or count to one hundred.

And he didn’t.

“I… I…” he stammered. He drew a deep breath, more of a gasp really, and was only dimly aware of Ruby moving toward him and gently grabbing his arm in her hand.

“Sir Graham,” she whispered. “Are you all right?”

And this one too: “His children were growing and changing and he didn’t even know them. He recognized them, certainly, but he didn’t know who they were.

What were their favorite colors? What were their favorite toys? What were their favorite foods? He didn’t know any of it!

He was, in his own way, every bit as awful a father as his own father had been. His father may have beaten his children within an inch of their lives, but he at least knew what they were up to. Graham ignored, avoided, and pretended. Anything to keep his distance and avoid losing his temper. Anything to keep him from turning into his father.”

Both of these were just so intensely powerful and heart wrenching. You already suspected that was why Graham was so unsure as a father, and why he kept such a distance. He wanted to run no risk of hurting his children as he himself had been hurt. But he is seeing all too vividly now, that his holding back has left a wound all its own. I just wanted to gather him up and hug him at this point, and I was very glad he had Ruby there with him. (The best thing I could liken it to is in The Sound of Music, when Maria finally gets through to Captain Von Trapp - he doesn’t really know his children…but there’s still time…they only want his love.

And then you got me with this one. I don’t even know!! Can I somehow crawl into your story and BE Ruby Jones at this moment? She is right on the same wavelength just wanting to help him, to make this hole in his heart okay again. 💖💖💖 BEAUTIFUL!!

“But whatever Graham was seeing right now, was still very much with him.

“Graham,” she whispered again, touching his cheek. He didn’t move, he barely breathed. She stepped closer still, saying his name once again. She wanted to ease the shattered look in his eyes. She wanted to draw out the man she knew he was, down deep inside. She wanted to heal him.

She whispered his name one last time, taking another step forward until only inches separated them. She offered him her understanding, her compassion, her help all in a single word. She could only hope he heard. And listened.

And then he moved. His hand covered hers, pressing her hand into his skin as if he were trying to memorize the feel of her touch. He drew their hands down to his mouth and placed a kiss to the center of her palm.”

Oh swoon!!!

And cue the tears too, all at once!

And then it went all kinds of hot and steamy and desperate ❤️🔥❤️🔥

“Her gaze bounced between his blue, blue eyes, reading him like one of her beloved novels. He was back. He was here with her and she suddenly knew what he intended. His eyes drifted shut and he drew their hands down to his chest, over his beating heart. His other arm wrapped around her and drew her into him. Leaving her hand on his chest, he used his to lift her chin until her lips were only a hair's breadth away from his own, stopping only long enough to whisper her name before capturing her lips in a kiss that was so blinding, so intense, it took her breath away. He was hungry and needy - a starving man being granted a feast. He kissed her as if she were the air he needed to breathe. As if she was a cool and refreshing pool of water to a man dying of thirst. The kind of kiss Ruby knew she’d never forget. The kind of kiss she hadn’t known existed.

He pulled her closer until every part of her body lined up against his and then a gasp escaped her when his hand left the small of her back and cupped her bottom.

“I need you, Ruby, please,” he groaned into her mouth before leaving it and placing light and gentle kisses to the line of her jaw and neck. She dropped her head back allowing him more access and held on to him for dear life. She was melting. He was melting her. All she knew was that she needed more. She needed him.”

I mean, good gracious, K!! What are you trying to do to me?!? 🔥🥵🔥

And then there was the conversation they had back at the house that evening, sharing with each other about the horrible loss each had born witness to, and that each had been helpless to stop. It bonds them in a painful, but very powerful, way. His gruff, heartfelt apology was perfect too, and I loved how Ruby immediately accepted it, assuring him it was already forgiven and forgotten. I am more hopeful than ever that she is going to help him find a way back to his kids - and to the man he truly is deep inside beneath his scars.

“She could barely look at his face. It was so pained, and so tormented, but it also brought her a calm assurance. Sir Graham Humbert was a good man. It was obvious that he loved his children tremendously, and even if he didn’t know how to act around them, his heart towards them was true.”

Soon they are making plans to spend time with his children together, and then… her brothers arrive!! Oh boy is next chapter going to be a doozy!!!! 🤭☺️🫢

I don’t know if I have done this justice or if it is just a ramble-y mess, but I really REALLY loved this chapter!!!

To Sir Graham, With Love Ch. 4

And we are back!!! Thank you all for coming along on this journey with me!! I hope you enjoy the new chapter and let me know what you think!

All the love and thanks again to @jrob64 and @whimsicallyenchantedrose for their outstanding beta services and to @motherkatereloyshipper for the GORGEOUS artwork above!!!

And once again, happy birthday to @snowbellewells for whom this fic was written!!

Summary: After a year long secret correspondence, twenty-eight year old spinster Ruby Jones decides to accept Sir Graham Humbert's offer of a visit to see if they might suit for marriage. Unfortunately, he failed to mention that he was the father of twins, and they are not thrilled with Ruby's appearance.

Rating: M (for smut in later chs and mentions of physical abuse)

Words: Approx 5700 of approx 68k

Tags: Red Hunter Fic, Birthday Fic, Inspired by Eloise Bridgerton's Story, Smut

On ao3 From Beginning / Current Ch

On Tumblr Prologue Ch1 Ch2 Ch3

Tagging the usuals. Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.

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Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

… should not have let him kiss you. Who knows what liberties he will attempt to take the next time you meet? But what’s done is done, I suppose. So all there is left is to ask: Was it lovely?

– From Ruby Jones to her sister Tink, slid under the door of her bedroom the night Tink met the Earl of Kilmartin, whom she would marry two months later

~*~*~*~*~*~

Ruby was awake quite early the next morning, which shouldn’t have come as a surprise given that she’d retired to her bed at half eight the evening before. She’d regretted her self-imposed exile almost the moment she’d sent Sir Graham the note. There was nothing she hated more than dining alone, with no one to talk to. And even as grouchy and uncommunicative as Sir Graham could sometimes be, he’d have been better than nothing.

She still wasn’t entirely convinced they wouldn’t suit. He might be gruff and arrogant at times, but when he smiled… 

Well, when he smiled, he was transformed. She’d never understood why the ladies had always giggled and swooned when her brother David smiled, but now she did. Sir Graham went from surly and cantankerous to full of humor and mischief, as if he was the holder of all kinds of secrets and delighted in that knowledge. Besides being devastatingly handsome, of course. But it wasn’t the smile itself that had her swooning internally. After all, with all her brothers, she considered herself quite immune to devilish smirks and twinkling eyes. When Graham smiled, there was a shyness about it, as if he wasn’t accustomed to smiling at a lady, and it was that, more than anything, that told her they just might be made for each other.

She made her way down to the breakfast room to find that Graham had already partaken and departed. Ruby tried not to be discouraged. After all, he may have just assumed she wasn’t an early riser and had gone on about his business, but when she didn’t find him in his greenhouse later, she was quite at a loss of where he might be.

Didn’t the twins owe her an afternoon? Well, there was no reason they couldn’t make it a morning instead.

Several minutes later, Ruby entered the twins' nursery.

“Who wants to go swimming?”

Nicholas stared at her as if she was mad, while Ava’s face lit up in delight.

“I do!” she declared, sticking her tongue out at her brother when he scowled instead. “I love to swim. And so does Nicholas. He just doesn’t want to admit it.”

“I don’t think they should go,” interjected their nursemaid, a thin, surly looking woman of indeterminate years.

“Nonsense,” Ruby said, disliking the woman immediately. She looked to be the type of woman who’d tug on ears or rap knuckles. “It’s unseasonably warm and swimming is good exercise.”

“Nevertheless…” The woman’s tone was quite testy, clear evidence that she didn’t like to have her authority questioned.

“I shall give them lessons while we go about it,” Ruby assured the woman. “They are without a governess at the moment, are they not?”

“Yes,” the woman snapped. “The little monsters glued…”

“Whatever the reason for her departure,” Ruby interrupted smoothly, “I’m sure it’s been a terrible burden on you to have to fulfill both duties for the past few weeks.”

“Months,” the woman muttered.

“Even worse!” Ruby exclaimed, in faux commiseration. “One would think you could use a free morning, wouldn’t one?”

“Well,” she allowed, “I wouldn’t mind a trip into town.”

“It’s settled then,” Ruby announced decisively. She smiled at the children, who stared at her in awe. “Enjoy your morning,” she said, bustling the woman into the hall. Once the door was shut behind her, Ruby turned back to the children.

“You’re wonderful,” Ava breathed.

Even Nicholas couldn’t help but nod his agreement. 

“I hate Nurse Ratched,” Ava said.

“Of course, you don’t,” Ruby began, though her heart wasn’t truly in her words. She hadn’t much liked the woman either.

“No, we do,” Nicholas assured her. “She’s horrid.”

Ava nodded. “I wish we could have Nurse Johanna back, but she had to leave to care for her mother. She’s sick,” she explained.

“Her mother,” said Nicholas, “not Nurse Johanna.”

“How long has Nurse Ratched been here?”

“Five months,” Ava said forlornly.

“Five very long months,” Nicholas agreed. 

Ruby didn’t believe in disparaging another adult in front of children, especially an adult meant to have authority over said children, so she simply sidestepped the issue completely.

“Well, it doesn’t matter, does it? Because today, you have me.”

“I like you,” Ava said shyly, taking her hand.

Ruby smiled gently at her. “I like you, too.” Nicholas said nothing, but Ruby wasn’t concerned. Some children took longer to warm up to someone new. And besides, these children had earned the right to be wary. Their mother had left them, and then their nurse - who’d likely cared for them their entire lives - had left as well. Granted, leaving through death was quite different from leaving to care for an ill family member, but all the children would remember was that someone they loved dearly was gone, and then to lose their beloved nurse so soon after their mother, it could hardly be fathomed.

Ruby well remembered the months after her father had died. She’d been convinced that not letting her mother out of her sight - or better yet, holding her hand or skirts for all she was worth - would mean she couldn’t leave either.

“I’m sorry we blackened your eye,” Ava said quietly.

“It looks much worse than it feels,” Ruby assured her, squeezing her hand gently.

“It looks horrid,” Nicholas observed, matter of factly, his voice holding just a tinge of remorse.

“Yes, it does,” Ruby agreed. “But I’m starting to like it. It looks like I’ve been in a battle. And won!”

“It doesn’t look like you’ve won to me,” Nicholas said, dubiously.

“Nonsense,” Ruby said. “Of course I do! Anyone who comes home from a battle wins.”

“Does that mean that Uncle George lost?” Nicholas asked. “He didn’t come home from battle.”

“He died before we were born,” Ava said.

“Your uncle was a hero,” Ruby said, her voice quiet and respectful.

“But not Father,” Nicholas said.

“Your father didn’t go to war because he had responsibilities here,” Ruby explained. “But these are much too somber thoughts to occupy ourselves with, when we should be outside enjoying the splendid morning. We should be out swimming and having a grand time!”

The twins enthusiastically agreed, and in no time were changed into their bathing costumes and tromping through the field toward the lake.

“We mustn’t forget to practice our arithmetic,” Ruby called out as the twins skipped ahead of her. And to her surprise, they actually did. Who knew that sixes and eights could be so much fun?!

~*~*~

Graham came inside from the rose garden to find the house unnaturally quiet. It was so rare that he found himself just standing and savoring the silence. Nurse Ratched must have taken the children outside for a bit of fresh air, and while it was nearing ten in the morning, he assumed Ruby must still be abed, though she didn’t strike him as the type to lounge away the day under her covers.

He wandered into the breakfast room, expecting to find the sideboard full and waiting for Ruby’s appearance, but instead, it was empty and spotless, telling him that Ruby had already eaten and was now God knew where.

A maid entered the room with a feather duster in her hand. She bobbed a curtsey when she saw him.

“Good morning,” he said in greeting. “Would you please bring me a vase for these?” he asked, motioning toward the roses in his hand. He’d hoped to give them to her himself, but he wasn’t willing to just hold on to them while he hunted her down. He’d spent an hour in the rose garden choosing just the right blooms and then carefully removing all the thorns. Romney Hall boasted three rose gardens, but he’d had to go to the furthest afield to find the early-blooming varieties. 

When the maid arrived back, a glass vase in her hand, he asked, “Do you happen to know where Miss Jones is this morning? I noticed breakfast has been cleared.”

“I believe she took the children swimming, Sir,” she informed him. “They were in their bathing clothes.”

Graham’s skin went cold. He hadn’t been near the lake since the day Jacinda died, always taking the long way around, not able to bear even the sight of it. He’d forbidden the children to go near it as well. 

At least, he thought he had. He’d told Nurse Johanna not to allow them near the water, but had he told Nurse Ratched? He couldn’t remember.

He ran from the room, leaving the roses scattered on the floor.

~*~*~

“Last one in is a hermit crab!” Nicholas hollered, running down the hill toward the small lake. He didn’t stop until the water came to his waist.

“I’m not a hermit crab,” Ava shouted back, “You’re a hermit crab!” She splashed around in the shallows.

“You’re a rotten hermit crab.”

“Well, you’re a dead hermit crab.”

Ruby laughed as they continued to shout back and forth to each other. She waded in the shallows a few feet from Ava. Not having brought with her a bathing costume, she simply tied up her skirt and petticoat just above the knee. It was a scandalously large amount of skin to be showing, but in the presence of children, who really cared?

Besides, they were having much too much fun tormenting each other to even notice.

They’d warmed up to her significantly on the trek to the lake. They’d laughed and chattered the entire way. It made Ruby wonder if perhaps all they needed was a bit of attention. They’d lost their mother, their relationship with their father was distant and strained, at best, and then they’d lost their beloved nurse, as well.

Thank God they had each other.

And maybe, perhaps, her.

She shouldn’t be thinking like that. These children clearly needed a mother, but she couldn’t base her decision on them. She’d be marrying Graham. Not Nicholas and Ava.

“Don’t go any deeper,” she called, when she saw Nicholas start to inch into deeper water. She was quite pleased when he took two large steps back toward the shore of the lake, even if his expression was rather irritable.

“You should come in further, Miss Jones,” Ava said, sitting down on her bottom. “Oh! It’s cold!” she exclaimed.

“At least as far as Ava,” Nicholas chimed in. “You’ve barely gotten your feet wet.”

“I don’t have a bathing costume,” she reminded them again, for at least the tenth time.

“I think you don’t know how to swim,” Nicholas said, smugly.

Ruby raised her eyebrow at him. “I can assure you that I do know how to swim,” she informed him. “I spent a great deal of time in the country when I was growing up,” she continued. “But I am also not going to be giving a demonstration in my third best morning dress.”

Ava looked at her and blinked several times. “I should like to see your first and second best. That one is very pretty, indeed.”

“Thank you, Ava,” Ruby said, wondering who picked out the children’s clothes. Probably the crotchety Nurse Ratched, she thought. There was nothing wrong with what the child was wearing, but Ruby highly doubted she’d yet experienced the pleasure of picking out her own clothes. “If you’d like to go shopping some time, I’d be very pleased to take you.”

Ava’s mouth dropped open in a soft O of surprise. “Would you?” she breathed. “I’d love it ever so much!”

“Girls,” Nicholas mumbled. He looked back to the water, concentrating on angling his hand just right before he smacked the surface, creating a tall splash that reached all the way over to his sister.

“Stop it!” she squealed. “I’ll get you yet!” she promised, diving in after him. 

“Don’t go too far out,” Ruby called, though it didn’t really matter. They were obviously both excellent swimmers. If they were anything like Ruby and her siblings, they’d likely been swimming since about the age of four. They’d spent countless hours frolicking around in the pond near their home in Kent, until their father passed, that is. Once Brennan was gone, the family spent most of their time in London. Ruby could never figure out if it was because her mother preferred the city to the country, or if there were simply too many memories.

While she certainly enjoyed London and all the many amusements it offered, being here now swimming in the lake with two boisterous children, Ruby realized just how much she missed country living.

Ava finally caught up to her brother and launched herself at him, taking them both under the water. Ruby watched them closely until they came up for air, both laughing and spluttering and vowing to beat one another in this most important water battle.

“Be careful!” she called. It was strange being in this position. She was normally the fun and permissive aunt, not the authority-wielding adult. “Nicholas, do not pull your sister's hair.” She was pleased when he stopped, but then he grabbed the neck of her bathing clothes, making Ava sputter and cough. 

“Nicholas,” she yelled, “stop at once!” 

He did, surprising her again, but Ava took the opportunity to jump on top of him, sending him under and then sitting on his back.

“Ava!” Ruby yelled. Blast it all. She was going to have to put a stop to it herself. There went her ideas of keeping herself mostly dry. “Ava, get off of your brother this instant!” she yelled one last time before completely surrendering her dignity.

Ava got off and Nicholas came up sputtering. “Ava Humbert, I’m going to…”

“You most certainly will not,” Ruby said sternly. “You will not kill, maim, attack, or even hug for the next thirty minutes. Do I make myself clear?”

The children looked absolutely appalled that she’d even listed a hug as a punishable offense. They stared at her open-mouthed and then cut their eyes to each other.

“Well?” Ruby asked.

“Well then,” Ava asked, “what will we do?”

That was a good question which Ruby hadn’t really thought about. All of her memories of swimming as a child included the same sort of water war.

“Maybe we’ll get out and dry off for a spell.” They both looked horrified at her suggestion. “I did tell Nurse Ratched that we’d work on your lessons…”

“GET OUT OF THE LAKE!”

Ruby was so surprised at the loud and furious shout from the hill above them that she turned too quickly and fell. She was able to catch herself with her hands, but the front of her dress was still soaked. “Sir Graham!”

“Get out,” he growled, his strides long and powerful as he entered the water, reached his children, and grabbed them both around their waists, hauling them to shore. Ruby watched with horrified fascination as he set them roughly on the ground. “I told you you were never, ever, to go near the lake,” he yelled, shaking them both by a shoulder. “You know to stay away. You know…” Ruby still couldn’t look away as he suddenly came to a stop, trying to catch his breath.

“But that was last year,” said Nicholas quietly.

Graham glared at him and he shrank back. “Did I ever rescind the order?”

“No, but I thought…”

“You thought wrong,” he interrupted. “Now get back to the house. Both of you.” 

The two children recognized the deadly seriousness of their father’s words and ran quickly up the hill toward the house. Graham didn’t move until they were out of sight, then he turned his furious gaze on her.

“What the hell did you think you were doing?”

For a moment, Ruby was too taken aback to make any sort of reply. “Swimming,” she finally said, a note of insolence in her words. Perhaps more than a note. “Having a bit of fun. Perhaps you’re familiar with the concept.”

“I do not want my children near the lake,” he barked. “I have made those wishes clear…”

“Not to me,” she interjected.

“Well, you should have…”

“What?” she interrupted again. “How was I supposed to know you didn’t want them near the water? I told Nurse Ratched where we were going and what we intended to do, and she never gave any indication that it was forbidden.”

The look on his face told her he had no answer to her argument and it was only serving to anger him further. 

“It’s a hot day and I was trying to mend the breach,” she continued, determined to win the argument. “Heaven knows, I don’t want another blackened eye. Plus, I thought it’d be fun for the children.”

“You put them in danger,” he growled.

Ruby couldn’t have been more surprised if literal horns had grown out of his head. “Danger?” she sputtered. “From swimming? The only danger they would have been in is if I couldn’t swim!”

“I don’t care whether you can swim or not,” he retorted. “I only care that my children can’t.”

She stared at him for several seconds, blinking dumbly at him. “Yes, they can. They’re quite proficient, in fact. I assumed you taught them.”

“What are you talking about?”

He was still furious, she could hear it in his voice, but the honest confusion also contained within had her ire retreating quickly.

“Did you…” she began, tilting her head slightly in inquiry, “not know that the children could swim?”

For a moment, Graham felt like he couldn’t breathe. It was like a bolt of lightning from the clear blue sky, freezing him in his place. This moment brought all of his failings as a father to the forefront of his mind, and Graham was completely overwhelmed. His jaw worked, his fingers clenched at his sides, his lungs caught, and he could do nothing but try to remain upright against the onslaught. It was the worst feeling he’d ever experienced in his life.

It wasn’t that his children could swim, it was that he didn’t know they could swim. How could he have not known? A father should know if his children could swim. Or ride a horse. Or read. Or count to one hundred.

And he didn’t. 

“I… I…” he stammered. He drew a deep breath, more of a gasp really, and was only dimly aware of Ruby moving toward him and gently grabbing his arm in her hand.

“Sir Graham,” she whispered. “Are you all right?”

He nodded. Or at least, he thought he did. All he could hear was her voice ringing in his head- yes they can yes they can YES THEY CAN - and it wasn’t even the words themselves, necessarily. It was the tone of surprise and just a hint of contempt.

And he hadn’t known.

His children were growing and changing and he didn’t even know them. He recognized them, certainly, but he didn’t know who they were.

What were their favorite colors? What were their favorite toys? What were their favorite foods? He didn’t know any of it!

He was, in his own way, every bit as awful a father as his own father had been. His father may have beaten his children within an inch of their lives, but he at least knew what they were up to. Graham ignored, avoided, and pretended. Anything to keep his distance and avoid losing his temper. Anything to keep him from turning into his father.

“Graham,” Ruby whispered again. “You don’t look well. I think you should go home.”

“I’m…” he began before trailing off, not able to get the words out. He’d meant to say I’m fine, but nothing could be further from the truth.

Ruby looked up as a cloud passed over the sun. Graham followed her gaze and then noticed Ruby crossing her arms over her chest and shivering. It was finally enough to bring him out of his self-loathing paralysis.

“You need to get inside,” he said, grasping her by the arm and proceeding to pull her up the hill.

“Graham!” she exclaimed, stumbling along behind him. “I’m fine! Just a little chilled.”

He touched her skin and cursed under his breath. “You are bloody well not fine, you’re freezing!” He stopped and took his coat off, placing it around her shoulders before grabbing her arm again.

“Graham, please!” she begged. “There is no need to run!” He didn’t stop their very brisk hike. Ruby jerked her arm out of his and stopped. “Sir Graham,” she said forcefully. “Please let me walk.”

He glared at her for a moment before answering. “I will not be responsible for you developing a lung fever,” he hissed.

“A lung fever?” Ruby asked, incredulous. “It’s May!”

“I don’t care if it’s July!” he roared. “You will not remain in those wet clothes!”

“Well, of course not!” she exclaimed, trying her best to sound reasonable. “But it’s only ten minutes back to the house. I am not going to die!”

She’d heard the expression of blood draining from a person’s face, but she’d never seen it. Until now. There was no other way to describe the sudden paleness of Graham’s face.

“Graham,” she said gently, trying to disguise her alarm. “What is wrong?”

His eyes darted back and forth, his hand trembled, and when she took it, it felt clammy in her own. She didn’t think he was going to answer until his mouth opened and a whisper fell from his lips. “I don’t know.”

She touched his arm and looked up into his face. He looked confused. Dazed even. As if he’d been pushed out onto a stage and didn’t know his lines. His eyes were open and on her, but she was quite sure he didn’t see her. He was somewhere far beyond her reach. Facing some terrible and recent nightmare all alone.

She knew bad memories and how they could just take over the heart and mind sometimes. She remembered her own worst nightmare - at the age of seven, being the sole witness to the death of her father, screaming and crying as he fell to the ground gasping for breath, then beating on his chest when he could no longer speak, begging him to wake up and say something. She knew now that he’d been gone by then, but somehow, that made the memory so much worse. The only way she’d gotten over it was due to her mother. She’d visited her every night and stroked her head as she’d cried into her chest. She told Ruby over and over again that it was alright to miss her father and talk about him. That it was alright to cry and grieve.

Ruby still remembered it all with perfect clarity, but it no longer haunted her. She hadn’t had a nightmare about it in over a decade.

But whatever Graham was seeing right now, was still very much with him.

“Graham,” she whispered again, touching his cheek. He didn’t move, he barely breathed. She stepped closer still, saying his name once again. She wanted to ease the shattered look in his eyes. She wanted to draw out the man she knew he was, down deep inside. She wanted to heal him.

She whispered his name one last time, taking another step forward until only inches separated them. She offered him her understanding, her compassion, her help all in a single word. She could only hope he heard. And listened.

And then he moved. His hand covered hers, pressing her hand into his skin as if he were trying to memorize the feel of her touch. He drew their hands down to his mouth and placed a kiss to the center of her palm. 

Her gaze bounced between his blue, blue eyes, reading him like one of her beloved novels. He was back. He was here with her and she suddenly knew what he intended. His eyes drifted shut and he drew their hands down to his chest, over his beating heart. His other arm wrapped around her and drew her into him. Leaving her hand on his chest, he used his to lift her chin until her lips were only a hair's breadth away from his own, stopping only long enough to whisper her name before capturing her lips in a kiss that was so blinding, so intense, it took her breath away. He was hungry and needy - a starving man being granted a feast. He kissed her as if she were the air he needed to breathe. As if she was a cool and refreshing pool of water to a man dying of thirst. The kind of kiss Ruby knew she’d never forget. The kind of kiss she hadn’t known existed.

He pulled her closer until every part of her body lined up against his and then a gasp escaped her when his hand left the small of her back and cupped her bottom.

“I need you, Ruby, please,” he groaned into her mouth before leaving it and placing light and gentle kisses to the line of her jaw and neck. She dropped her head back allowing him more access and held on to him for dear life. She was melting. He was melting her. All she knew was that she needed more. She needed him.

But not like this.

Not when he was using her as a succor to his wounds.

“Graham, we can’t,” she said, pulling back from him. Though she wasn’t quite sure how she found the strength within herself to do so. “Not like this.”

At first, she didn’t think he was going to let her go, but then suddenly, he did. “I’m sorry,” he said. He still looked dazed, but whether it was from the kiss or the tumultuous events of the morning, she wasn’t sure.

“Don’t apologize,” she urged him, instinctively smoothing down the front of her dress. It was still soaking wet and thus unsmoothable, but if she didn’t do something with her hands, she was liable to jump back into his arms again.

“You should go back to the house,” he said, his voice almost too low to hear.

“Aren’t you coming, as well?” she asked, surprised.

He shook his head. “I need to think. You’ll be fine. It is May after all.”

Ruby’s brow furrowed, but she turned from him and started back up the hill. After a moment, she turned back to him, utterly unable to mind her own business.

“What do you need to think about?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he replied with a shrug. “Everything, I suppose.”

Ruby nodded and continued on her way to the house. But the look in his eyes stayed with her all day long.

~*~*~

Ruby was purposefully late going down to supper. After the events of the morning, she wasn’t sure whether Sir Graham would be joining her or not, but she figured if he wasn’t waiting for her at ten past the hour, then she would be dining alone.

She was pleasantly surprised however, to find Graham in the drawing room waiting for her. He wore an evening kit that, although not the latest fashion, was perfectly tailored to his long and lean frame. Ruby caught her breath when he turned to her and approached.

“I hope you will accept my apologies for my behavior this morning,” he said, the entreaty in his eyes clear. “I overreacted and behaved abominably.” His voice was low and reserved, but she knew from his tone that her forgiveness was very much desired.

“No apology is necessary,” she assured him. “The incident is forgiven and forgotten.”

“Thank you,” he said, holding his elbow out to escort her to dinner. She took it and they walked slowly from the room. “Jacinda died in that lake.” 

The words were so unexpected that Ruby gasped in horror and halted in the middle of the hallway, her fingers covering her mouth.

“I’m so sorry,” she breathed. “I had no idea.”

Graham nodded. “I pulled her out, but it was too late.”

“Oh, Graham.” She could say nothing else as his gaze bounced between her eyes. He didn’t look as shattered as he had this morning, and Ruby was glad of that fact. He turned away from her and continued walking down the hall to the dining room.

“I know how it feels to watch someone you love die,” she said quietly. “And not being able to do anything to stop it.” 

“Your father?” he asked. She nodded. It wasn’t something she shared with many people. In fact, the only person outside her family who knew she’d been the lone witness to his death was her dearest and oldest friend, Mary Margaret Blanchard. Now Mary Margaret Jones. Even with the bleakness of the conversation, the thought of her closest friend being married to her favorite brother brought a small smile to her lips.

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I,” she replied.

He was silent for a moment as they continued down the hallway. 

“I didn’t know my children could swim.”

His words were so odd and out of the blue, she could only blink and ask, “I beg your pardon?”

“I didn’t know they could swim,” he repeated, his voice dripping with condemnation. “I don’t even know who taught them.”

“Does it matter?” she asked softly.

“It does,” he said bitterly, “because I should have been the one to do it.”

She could barely look at his face. It was so pained, and so tormented, but it also brought her a calm assurance. Sir Graham Humbert was a good man. It was obvious that he loved his children tremendously, and even if he didn’t know how to act around them, his heart towards them was true.

“Well,” she said briskly, “there’s nothing to be done about that now, and just because you didn’t know, you do now, and it’s not too late to find out more about them. They are charming children, you know.”

He looked at her dubiously. 

“They do misbehave on occasion…” His eyebrow shot up in disbelief. “Oh, very well, they misbehave quite often, but truly, all they want is a little attention from you.”

“They told you this?”

Ruby released a small giggle. “Of course not. They’re only eight. But it is quite obvious to me.”

They finally reached the dining room and sat down on opposite sides of the table. Graham was silent until they’d both had a sip of their wine.

“Did they enjoy it? The swimming?” he asked hesitantly.

“Oh, yes,” she assured him. “You should take them.”

He shook his head and looked down briefly. “I don’t think I could.”

Ruby nodded, fully understanding the power of memories. “Perhaps somewhere else then. Surely there are other lakes or ponds on the grounds.”

Graham nodded and waited until she’d had a taste of her soup. “That is a fine idea,” he agreed. “I will think about where we might go.”

There was something so heartbreaking about his expression - the uncertainty, the vulnerability - Ruby felt her heart clench in her chest. The knowledge that he was going to do his best to do the right thing, the right thing by his children.

“I hope you will join us.”

“Of course,” she said, utterly delighted. “I should be desolate if I wasn’t invited.”

“I’m quite certain you overstate,” he said wryly, the corner of his lips lifting in a small grin. “But we would be honored, and to be quite frank, I would be rather relieved to have you there. The outing is sure to be successful if you are present,” he explained.

Ruby felt her cheeks heat at the unexpected compliment. “I’m quite certain you overstate.”

“We will all enjoy ourselves much better with your accompaniment,” he assured her quite emphatically. 

Ruby decided not to argue and just accept the compliment. He was most likely correct, after all. They were so unused to spending any time together, it would almost certainly be more pleasant with her to smooth the way. And she found that she didn’t mind the idea one bit.

“Perhaps tomorrow,” she suggested, “if the pleasant weather holds out.”

“I believe it will,” he said. “The air didn’t feel changeable.”

Ruby raised an eyebrow at him. “So you predict the weather as well?” Ruby had a cousin who claimed to be able to predict the weather, but every time she listened to him, she’d end up soaked to the skin or nearly freezing her fingers and toes off.

“Not at all,” he replied, “but one can…” He trailed away and looked toward the door. “What was that?”

“What was what?” she replied, but as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she heard what Graham had obviously heard. Raised voices, and getting louder by the moment. Heavy footfalls. A forceful stream of invective was followed by a yelp of terror that could only have come from the butler…

And then Ruby knew.

“Oh, dear God,” she murmured, her grip on her spoon going slack. 

“What the devil?” Graham asked, standing from his seat, preparing to defend his home from the unknown invaders.

Except that he had no idea what sort of invaders he was about to face. What sort of annoying, meddlesome, and diabolical invaders he was going to have to meet in, oh, about ten seconds.

But Ruby did. And she knew annoying, meddlesome, and diabolical held nothing against furious, unreasonable, and downright large when it came to Graham’s imminent safety.

“Ruby?” Graham asked, his brows shooting up to his hairline when they both heard someone bellow her name.

Ruby felt the blood drain from her body, though there was no evidence of it on the floor around her. There was no way she’d be able to survive a moment such as this, not without killing someone, and preferably someone who was quite closely related to her.

She stood, her fingers gripping the table, the footfalls (which resembled a rabid horde, quite honestly) growing closer.

“Someone you know?” Graham asked mildly. Much too mildly for someone about to face his own demise.

She nodded and somehow managed to push the words through her frozen lips, “My brothers.”

~*~*~

Thank you for reading and sharing! I'd love to hear what you think! Going forward, I'm going to start updating twice a week. So be on the lookout for the next chapter, which just happens to be my favorite, on Wednesday!!

[bellessimaa]

No but hear me out, Kanthony in India could be quite the story.

Anthony Bridgerton in a kurta! Him seeing Kate in a saree or lehenga because lets face it, the man will lose whatever braincells he had left and simply disintegrate.

The only problem with the writers trying to send Kanthony away to India is the timing of it. Edwina is already married and Kate is with child. After the trauma of Hyacinth’s birth, nothing on earth can convince me that Anthony Bridgerton would willingly let his wife take a hazardous six month journey back to India. Tha just doesn’t make sense.

Another thing that does not make sense woth the timeline is that, if Edwina made a match in India, it must have been while Kate and Anthony were on their honeymoon and I’m sorry but how on earth do you expect me to believe that Kate would miss her little sister’s wedding?

It is all tempting me to write again, something like a fix it where Kate and Anthony embark on a journey to India, because Edwina is supposed to get married, maybe to someone from the maharaja’s court because why not?

Kate leaves for India, but with her endearing, besotted husband who worships the grounds she walks on. They come to India and they do all the things that we are craving to see on screen (Anthony in Kurta? Another sneaky, playful haldi ceremony in the privacy of their rooms? Another mehendi ceremony because ofcourse Kate will have Anthony’s name sneakily written on her hands in hindi? Vexing one another? Potentially some old suitors of Kate, just to make Anthony sweat? Her taking him to all the spots of her childhood, just the way he did in Aubrey hall? Babymaking? Recieving the happy news firsthand?)

Anyway this list will never end. I dont know if we would get a spin off or not, but I might just get around to writing this.

[alphabetboyluvr]

dance with the devil | jjk

REQUEST | jktaee3 on wp

VIBES | angst, royalty - bridgerton vibes, childhood friends to enemies to ?luvrs?

SOUNDTRACK | die for you - joji

HOLLY'S NOTE | (originally posted april 2023) so fun facts, i've never watched bridgerton. i actually put it on in the background as i was writing, which is where the lil line about being diamond comes from. i also do fuck all world-building in this, so just... use your imagination lol. i have no idea if this is like... correct? i dont read nor write period pieces and haven't done since school so.... go easy on me hahaha <33

also!! went for jeongguk instead of jungkook. feels more dramatic? time appropriate?? idk! mix of eng and Korean inspo for titles / locations!!

WORD COUNT | 2.5k

There are easily a hundred pairs of eyes on you as you walk into the ballroom. Maybe more. The room is grand, gilded in gold—grotesque in its display of wealth, but nothing new to you. You've been in a dozen rooms like this within the last month alone. More money than taste—but you can't buy class.

Despite the influx of unwelcome stares, there's just one you can actually feel. It comes from a pair of deep brown eyes in the corner of the room; a glass of red in one hand, the gloved fingers of your least favourite cousin in the other.

Dark and brooding, Jeon Jeongguk has no right to look at you in the way that he does. Duke of Busan, womaniser of more counties than you care to imagine, he's troubled wrapped up in a waistcoat and ruby-encrusted signet rings.

But you've always liked trouble. Shame.

The grip that Lord Min of Daegu has on your hand tightens. He can notice it too; Jeongguk's stare. Your satin gloves are silky against Lord Min's skin, and he must admit he enjoys being the focus of Jeon Jeongguk's envy. He thinks it's about time that the over-egotistical tyrant of hearts had his comeuppance.

"Remember," Lord Min whispers quietly to you as the crowd watches on. He's a trusted confidant; not suited for marriage. At least not with you. It's the county's worst-kept secret that he retires to the boudoir with Master Park each and every evening. No one at the ball is under any illusion that he is a suitor of yours. "You're a diamond in a mine of sapphires."

"Oh, but sapphires are far prettier than diamonds," you pout, voice dulcet as you scan the room. It's approaching your birthday, and time is running out. A suitor needs to be found, and found promptly. Too much time squandered on frivolous pursuits during your youth had prevented such a search.

It's something you're reminded of whenever your eyes catch Jeongguk's. Endless days spent under beating midsummer sunshine; burnt skin and freckled cheeks. Youth well-spent. Youth wasted.

"So? It matters not." Lord Min smiles. "Diamonds are far stronger. Sharper. And still just as exquisite as sapphires. Do not sell yourself short."

And by that, you know exactly what he implies: steer clear of the Duke of Busan.

It would be a fruitless endeavour. No good would come from it.

Years of your childhood had been spent in a whimsical land with him, full of castles and fairies, and witches and warlocks. Potions had been made in his garden using his mother's best perfumes and items stolen from the pantry; make-believe scenarios came to life in the forest between your family's estates.

Summers had been frittered away together by the sea; Winterton Manor the backdrop of your dreams, your hopes, your fears.

But the Duke did as Dukes so often do; embroiled himself in debauchery and distasteful pleasures.

You had watched on, bemused for the most part, and also intrigued by what compelled him.

Had you not been enough?

Grapevines whisper, and Jeongguk had spent far too much time frolicking in vineyards. Drunk on the delights of his youth, he'd forgotten that there would be life beyond the present.

It's a price he pays, now. A debt he hadn't realised he had racked up.

One that he's reminded of every single time you glance his way. He cannot afford a diamond.

Somehow, however, he can seem to afford the audacity of approaching you in the powder room towards the end of the evening.

You've had lacklustre dances with half a dozen bachelors, and they've all been uninspiring. Only two of them managed to make it through the waltz without stepping on your toes.

Time is running out.

And Jeongguk?

He's running in circles trying to get you out of his head.

Seems apt that he'd bump into you at some point.

Not like he sought you out. Not at all.

Not like he handed the maids by the staircase a few silver coins to divert other partygoers elsewhere, either. He wouldn't dream of doing such a thing.

The Duke of Busan knows you well.

Knows that it takes all of your might to not glance in his direction as he makes his presence known.

"Really?" He asks with a cocked brow and arrogant smirk, leaning against the doorframe. You're preening at your hair. Making sure your pins remain in place. "That's what you chose to wear? To a ball of this grandeur?"

You're wearing white. It's tight against your chest. Too tight. Pleated beneath the satin ribbon under your bust, encrusted with sequins and finished with lace. It's beautiful. Matches the white satin gloves that finish just above the crease of your elbow. You carry yourself with elegance.

In fact, your posture is so well-poised that Jeongguk is the only attendee of the ball who has noticed the split in your skirt. When stood, it is hidden by the pleats. When dancing, it is camouflaged by the lace. When you lift your skirt to meander up the stairs? He becomes reacquainted with the curve of your ankle. The split is no larger than the length of a letter inviting him to tea, but it feels overwhelmingly large.

As far as the Duke is concerned, you may as well be wearing lingerie.

You smooth the skirt of your dress and consider rearranging your tits just to give him something to stare at. You decide against it. Think he would enjoy it far too much.

"Oh precisely," you respond with an equally arrogant grin, before turning to face him. You're haughty in the way you position your body, almost as if you're trying to entice him. "Haven't you heard? I've a suitor to find."

He scoffs. "And you think dressing like a whore is going to find you one of any value?"

A whore.

Very rich of him, you think, as if the entire party doesn't know what he gets up to in the dark. And the daylight. And just about any time of the day, actually.

What they really don't know?

That he used to get up to it with you.

"Absolutely not," you smile. Your father might want you married off, but there's no suitor here for you. Not tonight. If you have to bring a man home, it unquestionably has to be one that your father won't approve of. "That's the point—although, now I come to think of it—this dress did seem to find you, didn't it, Jeongguk?"

He stays quiet for a moment. He doesn't enjoy you being correct. It's part of the reason you bicker so much. You're always correct.

"White really isn't your colour," he tells you with an ambivalent shrug. "We both know that."

Innocence. Purity. Virginity.

For once, The Duke is correct. It really isn't your colour.

Humorous, how he's dressed head to toe in black. Perhaps you should be, too.

"And green isn't yours," you tease, walking towards him. "Yet you seemed to be full of it when I entered the ballroom with the Lord of Daegu."

He remains silent. Can sense you have more to declare.

"Moreover," you hum, proving him right as you pause beside him, "as I'm sure you're well aware, Duke, it's the colour beneath the dress that counts."

"And what is beneath the dress?" Jeongguk husks, not looking over towards you. He doesn't want to let you know how much you affect him, still.

"The same lace that greeted you last summer in the stables of Winterton Manor."

Red. Fuck.

His favourite.

"Tell me, Duke," you tease. He deserves it, you think. "Does the Viscount of Gwangju like red?"

"Hoseok?" Jeongguk scoffs, addressing him by name, not title. The lack of respect shown by the young Duke is asinine, truly. A show of his immaturity. "Despises it."

Truthfully, he has no idea of Viscount of Gwangju's preferences.

"Good," you taunt. "I'm enthralled by the prospect of a challenge."

Jeongguk will be damned if you end up betrothed to the Viscount of fucking Gwangju.

"He concedes easily," he says. This is another lie. He just doesn't want to give you any further ideas. "Do not expect a challenge. Anticipate disappointment."

"Oh, but Duke," you laugh and it's so exquisite that he thinks he might just melt. "Disappointment has always been your forte, has it not?"

During the balls of recent years, where Jeongguk would only ever offer his hand to other women, and never you? Yes. Disappointing.

In the smoky parlours, where he laughs and jokes with the other gentlemen, about which debutantes are simply destined to become spinsters? Oh, incredibly disappointing.

In the drawing room adjacent to his bedroom, while you had waited beneath his sheets for his return, as he was agreeing to court your cousin instead of you? Perhaps the most disappointing he'd ever been.

It's been a year—the worst of your life.

"You've made your bed, Duke. Sleep in it."

"I've tried," he says sternly. He doesn't want to joke any more. Doesn't want to flirt. "I cannot bear to sleep in it without you."

You shake your head. Such a devil.

"You seem well rested enough."

"It's a facade."

And you find yourself quite annoyed; frustrated by his apparent disdain for a life he chose. A destiny brought upon you both by his inability to be discreet—though you're unaware of this caveat.

You see, everyone does know of his reputation, but he always kept your pursuits of passion hidden. Private. To the world, you're pristine.

"What do you require, Duke? My pity?"

He knows he doesn't deserve it.

"I require nothing of you."

"Then seek me out no longer. Do not pursue what you cannot commandeer, Jeongguk."

It's a lesson he would have done well to learn many moons ago; one remembered by you even if it was lost on him.

And yet, at quarter past twelve, as he loosens the black satin bow of his collar in his bedroom, Jeongguk pauses.

A knock has just sounded at his door. His chambermaid, he assumes, just checking on the fire—or maybe Master Park's chambermaid, instead (though Jeongguk's business with Master Park's staff isn't ever entirely 'business').

Regretfully, he thinks it could be Lord Kim Namjoon of Ilsan, here to reprimand him for his manners. His mentor in all fashions, Namjoon is always the first to discipline the young Duke following his nights of debauchery—though all things considered, he feels he's been quite well-behaved tonight.

He sighs as he rests a palm flat against his bedpost, and bellows, "Enter."

A sternness settles on his brows, hard and uncompromising, as he turns to the door. There's a dishevelled nature to his hair, undone and falling slightly over his dark eyes. His loosened collar and unbuttoned waistcoat only aid to make him look even more rugged.

He's marred in vulnerability, though. His pretty pink lips rest ajar, as his eyes fall on the intruder of his thoughts.

Amusing, you think, how the bedroom is where he domineers best, and yet is always where he seems the most unfortified.

Perhaps he hadn't been lying about his facade.

Perhaps he really doesn't sleep well without you.

Perhaps—just perhaps—you might indulge him one last time.

"Tell me, Duke"— You walk into his room and close the door behind you, eyes not leaving his —"Do any of them compare?"

He watches you strut past him and crawl on the luxe quilt on his bed. Oh, how you've missed it.

"Any of who?"

"The maids," you shrug. You aren't naive. You know exactly what he does, and who he does it with. "Master Park's maids? Surely Lord Kim's, too. And the working girls. The debutantes—need I go on?"

"No," he says, watching as you loosen your heels and kick them to the floor. They land with a thud. He knows the noise will have echoed throughout the house. "You needn't."

The truth of the matter is that his escapades are well-known amongst high society. He has a reputation, which is why his courtship with your cousin was forced upon him.

You're surely too good for him, but he's of too much value to remain without an heir.

A marriage is needed for him before the end of the year. His father says so.

Contrarily, your father would never agree to the Duke of Busan proclaiming you as his Dutchess.

Jeongguk knows this, for he's already asked.

Of course he has.

Last spring. Kept his mother's ring in his pocket just in case. A proposal was planned for early summer, before your trip to Paris.

He thought perhaps he would go with you—a pre-honeymoon, maybe—but your father had refused his request for your hand, and who was Jeongguk to go against the will of the man who had raised you?

Jeongguk won't burden you with this knowledge. Your life will be far more fruitful if you remain silently furious with him for never giving you what you deserved.

"And do they?" You enquire once more. unaware of his anguish. "Do they compare?"

Jeongguk leans down to his boots. Unties his laces and stands on his heels to remove them. He kicks them away. Is just as undressed as you are. Equal.

"Do you think my bed would be empty right now if they did?"

"It isn't empty," you tease.

"No," he acknowledges. "But it has been. It's been empty for months."

"Months?"

You don't believe him.

"I've had an empty bed since I returned from Winterton last summer," he declares.

"Though your hands have been full?" You sneer, painfully reminded of the way he'd held the hand of another woman in the ballroom that evening. You've had to bear witness to it on multiple occasions by now. It never gets any easier. Your fucking cousin, of all people.

"Pay no mind to the fact my hands have not been empty in ballrooms," he speaks quietly, shame washing over his features. Yes, it would be far more desirable if you were to be furious with him, but he wants to alleviate the hurt that you are quite clearly encumbered with. "As I said, it's a facade."

"Why? What are you hiding, Duke?"

As if you don't know—he laments—that I'm utterly besotted with you.

He glances away from you to watch the fire as it crackles in his hearth. He wonders if it would be less painful to tear his heart from his chest and roast it in the flames, than it is to be in love with you.

"I hide nothing from you," he says with a broad smile as he turns to face you once more. Jeongguk is adept at falsifying his discretions. "But I am without at a dance."

You grin, now. "A dance?"

"I'd love one," he smirks as he holds out his hand. He twists your words almost as elegantly as he used to twist you around on empty ballroom floors; just two of you after the parties had died down and the revellers had hung up their dancing shoes.

He strides to the side of the bed. Satisfaction sinks into his features when your gloved hand slips into his palm. He pulls you up. Pulls you closer. Rests a hand upon your waist and positions himself perfectly for you. He was raised a gentleman after all, even if grew up to be a rogue.

"May I have this dance?" He says quietly, only needing to whisper.

You're so close you probably count the beat of his heart.

One, two.

Does anyone dance better than I do?

Three, four.

Do you lose your breath when someone else draws you closer?

Five, six.

I could dance with you forever.

Seven, eight.

Would that be agreeable?

Nine, ten.

As if you can read his thoughts, you just nod.

"You may."

[statustemporary]

take my hand, take a breath

SUMMARY: Viscount Bridgerton was stubborn, frustrating, got in his own way more often than not, and there was a melancholy about his person most times when she saw him, but she gave him more leeway than she did nearly all of the rest of the Ton.

Except when conversing with her charge before an introduction, a conversation that is decidedly not their first.

//

Or Lady Danbury notices Kate has given them the slip during the Conservatory Ball and she finds her charge having a conversation with the viscount in the garden.

RATING: General Audiences

WORD COUNT: 1,760 words

TAGS: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Conservatory Ball AU, First Dance, no beta we die like edmund bridgerton

AO3

AUTHOR’S NOTE: ahhh not only is this the most i've written since like october??? but this is also my first work for bridgerton. kanthony brainrot has never left me so time to put it to paper. anyway this was inspired by one of my 87 different fanfic prompts i've been posting to tumblr (on @myficprompts) in hopes others will write it but i got impatient on this one and figured i'd just do it myself. (would love to see someone take on the original prompt though! please!!!!! thanks!!!)

***

Despite the way they have butted heads since their introduction, Lady Danbury had a begrudging respect for Miss Sharma. Her obstinance in the face of harsh truths was admirable to a degree. Frustrating, to be certain. Ill-mannered, to some extent. Yet the firm set of her shoulders, straight back, and words infused with a note of smugness proved she would be a formidable gatekeeper for her sister’s suitors.

If only the miss would not write herself off so young. Old maid by the Ton’s standards, unfortunately, but by her own, she had a full life still ahead of her.

Miss Sharma may have rejected her suggestion of a match but the curious way in which she admired Viscount Anthony Bridgerton also proved that the walls fortified around her young heart were not impenetrable.

Which meant that Miss Sharma’s disappearance in the midst of her sister’s first dance raised alarm.

As much as she had written herself off, she was still under Lady Danbury’s protection. Personal declarations of not being on the marriage mart did not make her unsusceptible to being compromised or other scandal. A thought that she would have hoped Miss Sharma to consider before wandering off but as Lady Danbury learned earlier, there was still much for her to learn about the Ton.

The dowager parted ways from a nervous Lady Mary with nothing more than a quip about watching her thirst before she moved about the room. The music covered the sound of her cane clacking against the wood floor and gave Lady Danbury the ability to slink along the walls of the conservatory.

Her stop at the set of windows near the entrance door proved most fruitful. She heard the faint sounds of gentlemen departing for the smoking room and, just before she continued her search, she spied her own charge stepping into close proximity to the viscount.

In view of the ballroom and still a respectable distance to not cause scandal, Lady Danbury did not appreciate the familiar nature in which the two conversed, especially as they had not been introduced. Huffing, she made her way to the entry garden.

“…as deficient as your horsemanship. I shall bid you goodnight.”

Lady Danbury came around the hedge at the same moment as Miss Sharma, their bodies nearly colliding.

“Miss Sharma,” she drawled, resting both hands on the head of her cane. She scrutinized the young woman, her eyes traveling to the flustered man who gaped at them like a fish out of water. “Viscount Bridgerton. How curious to find you both out here. Together.”

“My apologies, Lady Danbury – ” Viscount Bridgerton attempted to speak before Miss Sharma cut in suddenly, louder.

“I simply needed air. I did not realize I had to alert you of my need for a break.” She smiled, thin-lipped and with a hint of frustration – at the viscount, at her, at the situation – before bowing her head to Lady Danbury.

“Yes, well, seeing as you are under my protection,” Lady Danbury said, a warning glance to Viscount Bridgerton as he looked equal parts fearful and thrilled at the information, “I fear I did not stress the seriousness of some of the Ton’s etiquette specificities. It is of the utmost importance that they are understood, to lessen any troubles of your sister making a good match. Understood?”

Miss Sharma bit her tongue, her eyes darting to the side to the silent viscount behind her. “Of course, Lady Danbury,” she forced out.

“Lady Danbury, if I may – ”

Her eyes narrowed as she focused on the boy she’d known since he was in leading strings. A boy no longer if the title of Rake he’d worn without care for years meant anything. She always had a soft spot for the Bridgerton family. Her own connection aside, to find a love match such as the one between Edmund and Violet, a love match that proved fruitful until the eighth viscount’s death, was a rarity in the Ton. The strength of the family bonded by that love match showed in the closeness of the children and the genuine love and affection they showered upon each other. Even when she’d watch the children squabble and fight, it was never with the nasty cold demeanor of the rest of the Ton.

Then to watch as Anthony took on the role of viscount, father, and provider before heading to university had softened her more. Lady Danbury admired the way he took care of his family and how he not only kept them afloat following his father’s death but ensured that they thrived. He was stubborn, frustrating, got in his own way more often than not, and there was a melancholy about his person most times when she saw him, but she gave him more leeway than she did nearly all of the rest of the Ton.

Except when conversing with her charge before an introduction, a conversation that is decidedly not their first. She did, after all, recall Miss Sharma’s slip of the tongue on the edge of the dance floor.

“You have done quite enough, Viscount Bridgerton.”

Her glare silenced the viscount as his mouth thinned and his brows furrowed in displeasure.

“Lady Danbury, I must go see to my sister – ”

“Your sister is being looked after by your mother, Miss Sharma. Perhaps you should let those of us seasoned within the Ton take over from here.”

Miss Sharma pressed her lips together for a moment before she responded. “With all due respect, as I mentioned earlier, I was the one to prepare my sister for her debut and I really should be helping to vet the quality of her dance partners…”

The young woman’s words never made it to Lady Danbury’s ears as her eyes were too busy taking in the scene before her. They flickered between Miss Sharma and Viscount Bridgerton with a quick and startling realization.

Cut from the same cloth, they stood before her as the eldest siblings of their families, the caretakers and providers, with strong shoulders upon which the heavy burdens of their families laid. The protectors who cannot see the wood for the trees in regards to the marriage mart.

Equals.

“Hm,” Lady Danbury cut Miss Sharma off. “A dance is a brilliant idea.”

“My lady?” Miss Sharma asked, blinking her eyes in confusion.

“Pardon me?” Viscount Bridgerton asked behind her.

Lady Danbury hit her cane against the ground. Even without the sound of its impact, the two before her stood just a hair taller. She raised her voice as the doors to the ballroom opened. “How wonderful of Viscount Bridgerton to ask for your next dance. Splendid indeed!”

Miss Sharma huffed. “He absolutely did nothing of the sort. He cannot even dance.”

Viscount Bridgerton rolled his eyes. “Now you object to my dancing abilities?”

“I saw how you nearly trampled the young miss on your last dance.”

A smug grin worked its way onto his face as he stepped closer. “So you admit to eavesdropping and watching me now?”

“As I said, it is not eavesdropping if you speak loud enough for the entire party to hear!”

Lady Danbury cleared her throat and raised her eyebrows expectantly at the two in front of her. She swung out her cane, hitting their shins and watching in satisfaction as the two stepped apart though neither were entirely pleased.

“Yes, a dance will be a nice way to tidy this situation up. Afterall,” she said, lowering her voice, “it would not do well for others to know of your conversations and familiarity prior to an introduction. And I will require to know just how familiar you are with each other.”

Miss Sharma laughed off the suggestion. “That will not be necessary, Lady Danbury. I do not host any of the, what was it,” she turned to the viscount for a moment with a saccharine smile before facing Lady Danbury once more. “Ah, yes, impeccable qualities that Viscount Bridgerton is in search of in a wife.”

This time, the huff came from the viscount’s mouth. “That is completely unfair and you know it, Miss Sharma,” he said, a teasing lilt endearing to his voice as he said her name, negating the frustration that colored it prior. He cleared his throat before she could respond and grinned at Lady Danbury much like the cat that ate the canary. “However, you are right, Lady Danbury. A dance is a wonderful idea to mitigate any chance of scandal.”

She watched in amusement as Viscount Bridgerton’s grin widened when he turned to Miss Sharma. He lifted his hand and held it out to her, waiting for a moment.

“Miss Sharma, may I have this dance?”

Despite his proud swagger, the viscount’s request came out soft and like a whisper. His eyes crinkled and his gaze warmed, melting the arrogance that so often moved him forward. For a moment, Lady Danbury felt as if she was witnessing Edmund charming Violet all over again.

Miss Sharma’s breath hitched in the back of her throat at the intimacy that laced his words and she swallowed before quietly answering her agreement. Her hand shook, though Lady Danbury assumed she was the only one to notice, as she lifted it to place in the viscount’s.

Lady Danbury hummed in satisfaction as she allowed the two to enter the ballroom before her, Viscount Bridgerton’s perfect posture only lending to the peacocking he did as he led Miss Sharma to the dance floor. If she knew the viscount as well as she believed to, his peacocking, was less of a matter of besting Miss Sharma at their undisclosed challenge and more at having her on his arm, contrary to what he was currently telling himself. The way their eyes never strayed from one another as they readied themselves only proved her point.

From the corner of her eye, she watched Violet’s jaw drop minutely before their eyes met.

Did he willingly ask…? Her oldest friend seemed to ask. Lady Danbury nodded with a smug smile. The viscount who saw finding a wife more of a duty and chore than a chance for happiness, bewitched by a so-called spinster.

The music started and the two moved in perfect harmony. Their connection was palpable and they enchanted the room as they seemed to float through each step. Only when they began to whisper amongst themselves, a mix of bickering and flirting, did Lady Danbury notice the queen’s arrival at her side.

“What an interesting season this will be,” Queen Charlotte murmured, her smile pleased and mischievous.

“Interesting, indeed.”

[cvldbones]

who could ever leave me (but who could stay)

But at twelve years old, Anthony Bridgerton sees Kate Sharma sitting at the breakfast table in Aubrey Hall, and something in his universe shifts. or, Kate & Anthony grow up together

The letter arrives during breakfast. Anthony pays it no mind; he is trying to defend his meal on two fronts, as Benedict and Colin each attempt to steal helpings from his plate, and the girls are babbling at an octave that should frankly be outlawed at this hour of the morning, and, anyway, there could not be mail for him. It is not yet time for him to have received his letter from Eton – that will be next year – so for now, his entire world is already within this room. He has no need for people or things or goings-on outside of it.  

“Oh!” his mother exclaims from the top of the table. “Oh, Edmund – Mary and Amit are returning.”

“After all this time?” his father asks, wiping at his mouth with a napkin in one hand and reaching for the letter with the other. Violet hands the page over diligently, propping her chin in her palm as she watches her husband read. Her brow is creased with something like worry, and Anthony stops paying attention to his brothers as he fixates on his parents, a newfound intrigue burrowing within him.

“It seems that Mary’s parents have taken ill and have asked them to come and take over the estate.”

“Nothing quite like a death bed to remind you what is important,” Edmund says, tone uncharacteristically sharp, and Violet sighs. She lets her hand fall to Edmund’s wrist, rubbing a soothing circle into his pulse point.

“They have had another daughter,” Violet says, smile in her voice, and Edmund visibly softens.

“Yes, I see that.”

“This is all good news, though, is it not?”

“Of course, of course. I know how fond you were of Mary. I just also – ” Edmund glances towards the children, so Anthony averts his gaze quickly, fixating on his plate while keeping his ears pricked. His father still lowers his voice, so Anthony knows he is not supposed to be hearing these next words. “You remember the scandal, when they left. And reentering society is no easier than leaving it. There are some kind, wonderful people here – but there are also vipers amongst us, and you and I know that more than most.”

“Yes,” Violet agrees. “Which is why they will need all of the support they can get.”

Anthony is brought back to his own side of the table when Colin and Benedict both reach for the last piece of bacon, which sets all three boys off squabbling, and it only takes a couple of minutes for Anthony to forget the mentions of scandal and a new family joining the Ton.

Read more on AO3!

[retrolunaz]

The Diamond of the Season - Bridgerton Kpop AU - The Beginning

genre: historical, fluff-ish, angst (?), slow burn

pairing: duke!hueningkai x oc

warnings: murder, obsession, yandere themes (?)

word count: 3.5k

Backstory

Rios de Artemisa. That was a last name known and revered all throughout the island of Cuba. A family owning a large portion of the nation's nickel production, they were respected as businessmen and people of high class. That is, until the patriarch's, Vicente's, untimely death due to tuberculosis. This caused a great strain on the family. The eldest, Santiago, had to inherit the business. Without the proper training, he was more than naive on that front, and the nickel mines were quickly losing money. The next step was to send his sisters out into society to find them the correct match. Solana was the first to go, being 19 years old. The best way to find a suitor with the proper amount of knowledge would be to take advantage of the Naming of the Season's Diamond. Surely it would make Solana more desirable to any suitors.

Solana was nervously playing with her fingers as she was waiting for the carriage to arrive at the Danbury estate. Her and her family had been travelling by ship for the entire month of March in order to get to England and were finally able to travel by land. Thankfully, her mother had been friends with Lady Danbury for years before her marriage, so she was more than willing to sponsor the young girl for this season. To say Solana was nervous was an understatement. She had always imagined her debut to be in Cuba, marrying a man of her culture whom she could relate to. Solana was dragged out of her thoughts by the voice of the carriage driver.

"We have arrived. Please step out of the carriage," he said. The door was opened for them and the entire family stepped out of the carriage. Entire family meaning Luz, the mother who was absolutely destroyed by the death of Vincente but nonetheless knew that life had to go on, Santiago, the 24-year-old brother who now had to inherit the family business and take charge of the future of his sisters, Pilar, the 16-year-old who had an affinity for writing and painting and seemed to have no interest in her future debut, and Alonso, 15, who was more interested in hunting than taking after his brother. There were also Adanelia and Serafina, 13 and 10, who spent their days reading and horseback-riding.

Lady Danbury was waiting at the giant front doors with open arms.

"Welcome welcome," she said as she walked up to Luz. She greeted her as old family friends and turned to look at Solana. "Look at you, if you are not named the Diamond then the Queen must have problems in her vision. What are your talents, girl?" she asked, moving Solana around and touching her hips and hair.

"I can speak Spanish, English, Russian, German, and Portuguese. I am well-versed in foreign affairs. I can play the piano, guitar, and I can dance quite well." Solana explained. Lady Danbury gave an approving night.

"Well, seeing as it is already nighttime, you all must make haste and prepare for dinner. We have a long day tomorrow and I would like to speak of it on a full stomach." Lady Danbury motioned for the servants to take the many pounds of luggage to the respective rooms of each family member. Solana curtsied and scurried away, following the servants carrying her stuff to her room.

The room itself was gorgeous. It was filled with anything a young woman would need: a vanity, a plush bed, a long mirror for clothing, and a golden bathtub for whenever she felt she needed to refresh. Solana plopped down on the bed and took a moment to relax. Her life as she knew it tomorrow would change completely. She was afraid of not being named the Diamond and disappointing Lady Danbury in the process. The servants knocked on the door and left her luggages in the corner of the room. The males left and the female servants prepared to change Solana out of her travel clothes. In front of the mirror, they took off her dress and undergarments. It was such a relief, she had been in those clothes for hours beforehand and was more than ready to change into a different set. They changed her into a simple blue silk dress with lace embellishments and braided her hair. Solana could not wait to go eat. She was famished and had only been eating snacks beforehand.

"You're all set, Miss Rios. The dinner is ready, so please go downstairs into the dining room. Lady Danbury is waiting for you." said one of the servants, Aymee. Solana nodded, thanked her, and made her way downstairs. Once in the dining room, she sat down next to her mother and Serafina. The dinner in front of them was hot and fresh, and she was ready to dig in, and dig in she did.

"Alright, it is time we discuss what will happen tomorrow. Solana, I will need you to try your best to impress the Queen. She likes people who are intelligent yet delicate. Your beauty is not going to be questioned, but your talents need to be up to standards. Do not say anything out of line, do NOT try to outsmart her, and do your best to leave a good and lasting impression," Lady Danbury explained. Solana nodded in agreement. She knew she had to do her best.

Aymee was doing Solana's hair in the most intricate style. Her hair was styled into a full low bun with braids on the side and face-framing curls. As the final touch, Aymee added pearls into the braids and one large white feather into the bun. Her ears and neck were adorned with pearled jewelry and her makeup was simple yet accentuated her big eyes and plump lips. But the most important part was arguably the dress. Solana was dressed in a beautifully decorated white and gold dress that had aspects of her culture in it, most notably the hibiscus motifs sewn onto the chest area with gold thread and small diamonds. Her gloves were white and lacy with ruffles on the ends of them.

"Miss, you look so beautiful. If you are not announced to be the Diamond of the Season then I believe there is no hope for anybody else in all of London." Aymee had a habit of complimenting Solana all the time. Not that she was complaining, however. It served as a huge boost to her confidence.

The family was quickly getting into the carriage getting ready to go to the Queen's palace. Solana could not stop picking at her cuticles out of nervousness. Pilar noticed this and held her sisters hands in order to prevent her from picking it until she bled.

"I am sure you will do fine, Solana. Trust in yourself. You are going to impress the Queen and you will find a good husband I believe in you okay? Do not worry," she comforted. This helped Solana a little bit, but the nerves came rushing back when the carriage seized movement. The door opened and Solana was met with the view of crowds of girls her age dressed in similar attire. The feathers made the debutantes stand out in the large groups of women excited to see how this event would turn out. The family walked out of the carriage and into the room where the event will be held. So many girls were waiting anxiously for the event to begin. At the end of a small walkway was the Queen and her ladies in waiting, looking ever so intimidating. Solana's breath caught in her throat as the announcer began calling names. Girl after girl walked down the carpet only to be shooed away by a disappointed Queen Charlotte.

"Miss Audrey Orphicton," he said. A young lady with golden hair and striking green eyes walking down the pathway gracefully towards the Queen. She bowed towards the Queen and the Queen looked at her inquisitively. She admired the girl's features, her posture, her poise. For a moment, it seemed Solana had been beat before she even had a chance to show herself. After giving Audrey false hope, the Queen shooed her away as she had done with the others. Solana was growing inpatient until her name was suddenly called.

"Miss Solana Rios de Artemisa," he said. She felt faint. Her body started sweating. Not the wet kind, but the kind where your body becomes hot and itchy. But she had to get past that. She took a deep breath and walked down the pathway, careful of her posture and eye contact. She wanted to look sweat and confident but not too confident where she looked intimidating. She got up to the bottom of the Queen's throne and bowed. Her heart was racing at a million miles an hour. She could not mess this up. If she did, their entire plan would be for nothing and the season would be much more difficult. There was a silence in the room. If anyone's feather fell out of their hair, it would make a loud sound. The Queen stood up. Like Audrey, she analyzed Solana's features and attributes. She grabbed her chin and lifted it up, looking her in the eyes. Solana made sure to hold the most gentle yet submissive eye contact she could muster up.

"My darling, you exhibit the epitome of grace and etherealness. We have our Diamond." she grabbed Solana's hand and announced proudly. Solana finally breathed out the air she was holding in. The cheers that filled the room were enough to cause temporary deafness to the regular ear. Her family looked so proud.

The estate was hectic. Everyone seemed to be excited for Solana's success regarding the Queen. Tonight, the debutantes were to go to a ball held by Sir Jackson Wang. This was Solana's opportunity to get out there and land herself a husband of high esteem.

Aymee was taking care of her as usual. Tonight's dress was something special. It was a periwinkle blue gown with white lace detailing. In the lace were shapes of hearts and swirls. The hem of her dress ombre'd with lace, being heavier and more detailed at the bottom and eventually dispersing as it goes up the dress. Her gloves were white and lacy and her go to pearl jewelry adorned her collarbones and hung off her earlobes.

The important part was her hair. Solana had long, thick jet black hair that reached down to her butt. Aymee made sure to accentuate this by giving her a half up half down with face framing curls to bring attention to her huge brown doe eyes. Sparkles were applied to her under eyes to make her even more alluring than she already was.

"I do believe you are all set, miss. I wish you the best of luck tonight. I just know that tomorrow there will be hundreds of men at the door waiting for your brothers permission to court you." There Aymee went again with the compliments and the confidence boosts. Solana gave Aymee a smile and walked into the carriage waiting outside with her family. She would finally debut into society.

The carriage ride was not long at all. They were at the ball before they could even count to three. It was loud from the outside. It was obvious that Sir Wang spared no expense when going all out. The music was beautiful and sure to get anybody in the mood to dance around the ballroom. Excited, Solana walked in a little before her siblings and stood in awe at the sheer amount of eligible bachelors. Lady Danbury walked and stood next to her at the edge of the dancefloor.

"Men should come to you soon. You are already being stared at. Let me give you some pointers. Do you see that young man over there?" she pointed over to a tall man who was drinking with another man. Their conversation must have been hilarious because he was laughing loudly and proudly showing off his deep dimples.

"That right there, is Viscount Soobin Choi. He has yet to find himself a wife though many young ladies have been after him for the past five seasons. Very stubborn, but very rich. He is sure to provide you with a good lifestyle and is known for being very kindhearted. And that man next to him," she motioned to the slightly shorter yet alluring man next to Soobin, "is Earl Yeonjun Choi of Somerset. He is twenty and four and has been desperate to find himself a companion. I think it is a lost cause. He has been extremely picky. I personally do not believe he will ever find anyone if he continues with these antics. He is also known for his rakish activities. Maybe one day he will be ready to settle down and you may just be the one. Over there on the dancefloor, dancing with Miss Audrey is Duke Taehyun Kang of Peacehaven. He seems to be doing well for himself. If you take interest in him do not be afraid to snatch him away from her; he is a good man. But there, at the table eating sweets, is Duke Kai Kamal Huening of Highworth. The poor thing. His family has been pushing him to marry for years now. He is all but twenty and one yet he is still meant to be the man of the house. He has always been too shy to approach any girl so he lurks in the corners of the ballrooms. I do not understand why he still bothers if he will not change his behavior." Suddenly, Lady Danbury's eyes shot over to a man surrounded by a group of women. "If you should be caring to impress anybody, it should be him. That there is Prince Beomgyu of South Korea. You want to be a princess don't you? You have quite the competition. I would say let him come to you, but do not be afraid to give yourself a push in his direction. He is here for a wife after all. After this season, he is to return to Korea and find one there if he fails to find one here." Solana was extremely overwhelmed by the amount of men being shown to her. She was not given a moment to recollect her thoughts before she saw people moving towards her, specifically the dimpled charmer from before. He made sure to move everybody out of his way and get a good look at her.

"Good evening miss..." he asked, grabbing Solana's hand and planting a kiss on it.

"Solana. Solana Rios de Artemisa," she replied shyly.

"Ah yes, the Diamond of the Season from the island of Cuba. I hope to make your acquaintance. May I have this dance?" he asked and smiled at her. How could Solana say no? His dimples were too charming to reject. She smiled and nodded, and he took her out to the dance floor. Everyone knew she was the Diamond. She was being stared at as she danced. But there was one stare that she could not shake off no matter how many times she spun around.

Duke Kai could not help but stare at her continuously while munching on a tart. His mother was urging him to marry and start a family. With his older sister on academic travels in Asia and his younger sister debuting this year and also finding a husband, he was well behind in his endeavors. That is when his sister, Lady Bahiyyih Huening, came up to him.

"You're looking at the Diamond are you not? I believe you saw her at the ceremony as well when I was presented. Nice young lady, my age. Brother I do hope you take this opportunity to finally get yourself a wife. Mother needs heirs, Kai. Stop being so shy and ask her to dance after this song." she commented. Kai sighed and looked at her in annoyance.

"How do you think I will approach her in any way? Do you not see the men on the sidelines waiting to have a chance with her? I cannot compete." he replied. Bahiyyih rolled her eyes.

"You say this every season, and every season you end up unmarried. If you want, I could give you a push. But you must stop standing from afar. You look like a creep." she smiled and walked away.

The song had ended and Soobin and Solana bowed towards each other to say their goodbyes.

"I shall see you tomorrow, yes? Save me a spot so I am first in line to give you my gifts," Soobin smiled and kissed her hand as a goodbye. Solana was left astounded. She did not think it was going to be as direct as that. Soon enough the second song began playing, and if Soobin was direct, Yeonjun was worse. Instantly he grabbed her hand and kissed it.

"Allow me this dance yes?" he asked and began dancing with her, not giving her a second to spare. Earl Yeonjun was much more talkative than Soobin.

"I hope you were not considering giving him a chance at courting you, my darling. Why him when I have the ability to make you much much happier, hmm?" he asked and spun her around. Solana was left speechless. Yeonjun chuckled at her shocked look and carried on dancing.

Kai did not understand why, but seeing the known rake of the community dancing with Solana annoyed him. It was not fair that someone like him had such easy access to her, compared to Kai, who found himself too shy to even approach her. He felt so useless, so pathetic for not being able to simply ask a girl to dance. Season after season he let his own anxiety prevent him from finding a worthy spouse. The song ended as well, and Yeonjun said his goodbyes to Solana.

At this point she grew tired of dancing, so she walked over to the sweets table, right where Duke Kai was standing. He felt himself begin to sweat, when Bahiyyih scurried over to the area and greeted Solana with a curtsy.

"Good evening Miss Solana. I am Bahiyyih Huening of Highworth. This here is my brother, Duke Kai Huening of Highworth. You may have seen him when the Diamond was being chosen. Congratulations, by the way. I am sure this is a huge feat in your life. I am pleased to make your acquaintance, and hopefully to befriend you, as I see we have a lot in common." she introduced enthusiastically. Bahiyyih seemed to be more than willing to become friends with Solana, while Kai seemed extremely nervous regarding her presence. Solana smiled and agreed.

"I know you have barely just gotten a moment to rest, but how would you like a dance with my brother here? He has been meaning to invite you but he is far too shy to initiate contact." This took Kai by surprise. His nerves were now more evident than ever.

"I think that would be lovely," Solana replied, hoping to give some confidence to the very attractive young man in front of her. He visibly gulped, bowed towards her, and took her out to dance. Bahiyyih smiled at herself. Poor thing did not know what she just got Solana into.

"So, Duke of Highworth yes?" she asked, trying hard to get a conversation out of the boy.

"Y-yes. We have a very rich family name. I would like to find a wife this season. I n-need an heir.." he trailed off. It was obvious that Kai was not the most sociable person, at least not at first. Solana nodded in agreement and continued dancing. It was an awkward dance, though he was a good dancer. The music stopped once more and he bowed his goodbyes.

Kai grabbed her hand with the courage he could muster up and kissed the back of it.

"I do hope to see y-you again sometime soon, Miss Solana. Farewell." He scurried away and allowed himself to breathe when he was far enough. Solana was made to dance a couple more times with different men who were all willing to impress and court her immediately. The rest of the night went by fast.

Lady Danbury and Santiago went up to Solana to inform her that it was time to return to the estate. If anyone seemed satisfied with Solana's ability to mingle and pique the interest of the eligible bachelors at the ball.

Walking to the carriage, Santiago felt the need to tell Solana what would inevitably happen next.

"Tomorrow, you must rise early. It is without a doubt that many men will be coming to the parlour early in the morning with gifts. They will be trying their best to impress you. I urge you to choose wisely and not to go with the first man that presents himself to you. The future of the family is in your hands."

The carriage ride home was filled with giggles and chatter from the women.

[ayashiki-i-i]

Ok but how does a show that has "deformed bunny" and "Georgie be a good boy and approve your brothers' marriages" and "virgins to the left of me, whores to the right" and "the gesture has short legs" and "I do not remember names I am female" and "sorrows, prayers" and "do you like being the bishop of Canterbury" also has "I care not for his sanity I care for his happiness" and "my heart calls your name" and "I am brand new" and "a lifetime" and "I'm not coming inside because I am not here" and "you have half a husband" and "I found a way to control my own faith" and most importantly "YOU DID NOT GO OVER THE WALL" I can't please Shonda stop! This show has range and that range ended with me sobbing so much I gave myself a dehydration headache.

[yzeltia]

WOL/Raha Week Day 3 AU- Bridgerton

Rating: T for Tea Featuring: @ladyofvoss 's Thalia Voss Characters: G'raha Tia, Keith Summers, Fordola Lupis, Arenvald Lentinus, U'rahn Nuhn, Y'shtola Rhul, Newton, Y'zel Tia Notes: Dear Gentle Reader, I hope you enjoy

Dear Gentle Reader,

The town is abuzz once again as the society season picks up once more. Excited mamas are already setting their sights on G’raha t Gryphon, of which declared his intention to be wed this season. It’s not lost on this careful observer that last year’s talk of him being a notorious flirt for the ton’s war heroes has simply become muted. Perhaps the sizable Griffin fortune behind him helps overlook where he is wanting in poise and composure. Whatever the case, I imagine all our eyes will be on him and his prospective choices for the promise of the usual drama that comes with the season.

Speaking of potential scandal, the abandoned Lupis estate has been brought to life. Botanists have been seen cutting back jungles of weeds and staff have been seen coming and going through the back entrance with various supplies. It was reported in the Crier that the Former Duke Lupis who had spoken publicly against the peaceful policy of the King regarding foreign amnesty and was thus stripped of his title and land, died during the winter season. Our fair Queen Thalia, in her infinite wisdom, advocated against generational punishment and thus the title passed to his adopted son, one Keith Summers. 

As many of you know, the former's beloved parents who supported many charities and would send off the season each year with the spectacular Summer’s End Ball.  Tragically, they passed with his three brothers during a boating accident that left him orphaned. The former Duke, while lacking any of the grace or appeal of the Summer’s family, had at one point been fiercely in love with Kathrine Summers and had played for her hand and ensured the lad had the happiest remaining childhood alongside his only daughter, Fordola. Despite his exile, of course.

With the young Lord Summers returning to take up the property, it can only be assumed that he wishes to secure his adopted sister’s place in society through marriage. A bit of a late start on her part, if I dare say but with sympathetic circumstances. We shall see if her departed father’s reputation is a hindrance to the potential suitors. Hopefully the eager mamas will control their sharp wagging tongues to give her a fair chance.

In other news, Queen Thalia has declared Miss Lyse Hext as this season’s Diamond. We shall see.

Yours in anticipation,

-Lady Matoya

Fordola crossed her arms as the carriage rocked, staring daggers toward her brother as he stroked down the back of his corgi. He seemed rather calm, pleased even, to simply sit back and watch out the port on the door as the country disappeared into the towering buildings of the ton. “You are far too excited to return to a town which hates us,” she found herself huffing.

“Hate? I wouldn’t say that. Father had many friends here, even if his opinions were unpopular among them. His downfall was his pride, but I do not think that will be held against us…maybe you, though, if you are determined to hate those who were uninvolved though,” Keith replied. “Queen Thalia has already welcomed us back with open arms and was quite eager in her letter to see how you will fair this season. And I’m sure Newton will meet lots of new friends in the park.”

Fordola rolled her eyes as she watched her brother pick up his pooch and place him in his lap.“Yes, as entertainment for herself and the ton. They’re chomping at the bit for a new scandal. No doubt you’ve heard of Lady Matoya’s papers already giving us an unwelcome reintroduction.” She sighed, fishing out a biscuit from her handbag to give to Newton.

“I didn't miss it in my morning reading, no. But I think it was a good memorial to my folks and fair to our father. She must have respected him, I think,” Keith said.

Fordola raised her brow, scowling, “How so?”

“Well, she reminded us of his former title. He’s spent a greater part of a decade as Mr. Lupis. And, Lady Matoya is notorious for speaking her mind in the same fashion.”

“You speak as if she’s doing something brave. She hides behind anonymity. Father was brave, he spoke openly and freely, society be damned,” Fordola near shouted as she sat up.

Keith blinked then shook his head, “Dola, you shouldn’t swear. You’ve got to pretend to be a lady at least.”

“How about you pretend to be a lady!”

Dearest Gentle Reader,

I am absolutely stunned, in more ways than one. If you have been around as long as I, you might have remembered Fordola Lupis as a rough and tumble kind of girl that would take no qualms in mucking around with the boys in the fields, her older brother never far off trying to call her back home. If you were to have told me she’d grow up into the beauty that we’d seen last night at Ser Ement Vauban’s ball, you could have knocked me over with one of the many white feathers that decorated her dress. Her elegance and poise, not to mention the fortune put into that dress, had the mamas practically helping their sons scrawl their names across her dance card. Her fierce confidence and sharp tongue had the would-be suitors going back for seconds and those she turned out seemed to be put to tears. Or so does one rumor say.

This Dazzling Citrine of the ton far outshined this season’s Diamond. Miss Hext could be found quietly helping herself to some of the scrumptious pinwheels lovingly made by the host’s staff, an apparent favourite of our hero, the dazzling Shieldmaiden Vauban. 

Of note, Lord Gryphon seemed to have left in high spirits after his dance with Miss Lupis and seemed to have been talking rather closely with Duke Summers afterward. The race has begun. Mamas to your marks.

Yours in excitement,

-Lady Matoya

“I find your disposition rather amusing, Miss Lupis. I dare say I think you left your previous partner in a near state of tears.”

Fordola rose her brow high as G’raha smiled and led her about in a dance. She wrinkled her nose and shrugged. “Would you let another incessantly talk at you in close proximity after what I can only assume was eating an onion like an apple without saying something? Or am I so removed from the life of the ton that I’m supposed to find it flattering?”

G’raha laughed then shook his head. “I suppose that would be rather unpleasant. Though; if I was afoul I would be glad to have it pointed out so I could have the chance to rectify myself in private. That was…rather public.”

“I have spared my fellow dancers the niceties of enduring him. I saw Y’mhitra’s face turn as green as her elder sister’s unflattering dress and yet she thanked him for the opportunity to have done so at the end of the song. I have little doubt every other girl in here would have done the same if I had not pointed it out,” Fordola answered, spinning for G’raha before returning to his careful embrace. 

“I would be careful with your words. Lady Y’shtola has a reputation of being quite a grudge holder. She’s not taken kindly to the Queen’s ban of mourning colors at balls. I thought she looked rather striking in all that black to be honest. Ever content to be a spinster, she is, though I have heard gossip otherwise,” G’raha mused.

Fordola looked to the cross looking Miqo'te as she stayed in the shadows, glassy eyes seeming to scan through the crowd despite their apparent emptiness. “Gossip seems to be the local currency in the ton. What is her story?”

“Well, rumor has it…she was quite taken with Ser Vauban before she left for the King’s Navy. Y’shtola was fiercely against it, of course, the war and all. Thank the Twelve our Shieldmaiden has only sent news of victory and strategic retreats. Shortly after Lady Matoya’s papers started up, giving rise to the rumor that she is behind the elusive nom de plume,” G’raha whispered.

“And what do you think?”

G’raha folded his ears, thinking a moment before shaking his head. “She lost her vision during an unfortunate accident. While her wit and tongue are as sharp as any blade, there would need to be careful observations made that she simply couldn’t do without assistance of some sort. I suppose her many sisters could report to her…but I also don’t think she holds society in such a regard to be bothered with such a thing.”

Fordola pursed her lips then gave a little nod. “Alright then,” she hummed before letting her attention continue to wander the myriad of people around them, keeping up with G’raha’s footing. “Who’s the man in the chair? Standing next to the tall Miqo’te.”

G’raha turned to see who she was looking at. An imposing blond haired man laughed, reclined in a wheelchair while above him the tall Miqo’te shook at his shoulders and thrashed his hair carelessly behind him and echoed in the laughter. “That is Lord Arenvald Lentius and his good friend stuffing his face with pinwheels is none other than Lord U’rahn t Drake. He was a farmboy given a title by King Rijin after returning from saving his squadron of men from a Garlean force in the war to the east. He lost the use of his legs in the process. Despite hanging to the side, they’re both rather popular with the ladies, but only the latter has had his sights set on a proper marriage. Why, last season my mother all but forged his name on my now married sister’s dance card. Really though, he’s a good man. Would you like an introduction?”

Fordola shook her head. “If I can bother to escape the relentless pursuits of your peers, I will introduce myself. You weren’t a terrible partner. If I have to keep doing these things, I will ensure you have a spot on my dance card.”

G’raha smiled as she pulled away, bowing to her before giving a small kiss at the back of her hand, ears perking as he heard his mother make a noise of delight in the distance. “I shall endeavor to seek you out on our next meeting then, Miss Lupis.”

With that, Fordola retreated, recruited quickly by the next on her card, leaving G’raha to shuffle off to find himself some food. Finding a rather large untouched sandwich, he snatched it away then hurried behind a pillar to squat down and hide from his mother and her pending interrogation.

“Aw….I was hoping that would have still been there for me when I returned,” sounded a disappointed voice from above.

Looking up, G’raha found Fordola’s older brother frowning down at him. Wiping crumbs from his face with his sleeve, G’raha stood then broke off the unbitten half of his sandwich to hand over. “Apologies. I often find myself ravenous after a round on the floor.”

Keith lit up as he was offered the sandwich, “No worries friend! Thanks!”

Eagerly, Keith started to chomp down with the same fervent excitement for the morsel that G’raha had himself. The latter found his gaze flitting up to his meal partner, lingering a bit on his sheer joy from the small snack. Clearing his throat, G’raha wiped more crumbs from himself then gave a little bow.“You are Duke Summers, are you not? I just came from the company of your sister on the dance floor. I say, she is a change of pace around here.”

Keith seemed to go pale, recoiling a bit, bread stuck to the side of his cheek. “Hells, she did not insult you did she? She is rather abrasive, but I assure you underneath that rough exterior…somewhere deep, she is the sweetest thing!”

G’raha blinked then let out a hearty laugh, shocking Keith even further. “No, she was a delight to have paired with and a fine dancer.”

“Oh. Good. Good good good,” Keith repeated, letting out a sigh of relief. “Wait, fine dancer? My sister. I could barely escape without bruised toes during practice…Ah, hells. She was doing it on purpose wasn’t she!”

His laughter couldn’t stop, G’raha finding the other charmingly amusing. “Surely you must be popular at the gentleman’s club. Your jests are as delightful as your sister.”

“Ah, so then is it your intention to court her,” Keith asked, hopefully.

G’raha’s laughter stopped immediately, as did his breath. Straightening up, he closed his eyes, not daring to consider a fellow head-of-estate’s inquiries to be with jovial intent. “I enjoyed her company, but when it comes to marriage I would keep my thoughts to myself. It is easy to make an enemy of a friend when it comes to their sisters.”

“I suppose that’s true; but, we are not friends yet. I do not know your name,” Keith said with a thoughtful nod. “We’ve broken bread together, though, so I suppose that makes us as close as friends already. Closer maybe as I would find myself hard pressed to hand over a coveted sandwich as well prepared as what has been provided by our host.”

“That is fair,” G’raha responded before carefully reaching up to thumb away the lingering crumb on the Duke’s cheek, “And as a new friend it would be remiss of me to let you walk around with your face covered in your meal.”

Keith flushed as the other touched his cheek, emerald eyes widening as G’raha’s ruby ones looked over the stubble on his chin before flitting up to meet his gaze. His heart leaped suddenly as the other’s touch lingered, feeling trapped in an infinite moment of casual intimacy. Keith pulled away, letting out a nervous chuckle. “Thank you. That would have been rather embarrassing. Though, I do not think anyone would bother to send gossip my way when my sister seems to have the attention of the ton.”

G’raha lowered his hand, looking rather unsure what to do with himself in the wake of the moment, looking at the ground before returning to Keith after he finished his thought. “You? Are you not the Duke of The Fringes? I’d dare say you should find yourself at the mercy of more ambitious mamas than I?”

“Well, I do not have one of my own to prevent me from avoiding their intentions. I’m not here for me anyway. I want my sister to find her happiness. Hopefully with someone as kind as you,” Keith said before giving a small bow as he backed away. “I beg your pardon, but I should see that she’s not left unescorted for too long, lest I get a bad reputation as a careless big brother.”

G’raha frowned as the man retreated, “I would be the first to tell them otherwise.”

Dear Gentle Reader,

Far be it from me to question the wisdom of our Queen, but it seems her Diamond just does not seem to be able to outshine Miss Lupis. Lord Gryphon’s frequent visits to the Lupis Estate seems to have everyone waiting with bated breath for the inevitable engagement announcement. Hopefully, with that out of the way, Miss Hext will get to sparkle for the Queen the rest of the season.

Yours truly,

Lady Matoya

“Have we truly no inkling as to the identity of this vile woman,” Queen Thalia huffed, flopping back into her dress upon a lounge. “She paints me as some sort of tethering gossipmonger. I know a Diamond when I see one. We must find Miss Hext her suitor! Y'zel, coffee biscuit!”

Y'zel sighed then brought over a tray of cookies for his Queen before offering one to Y'shtola as she quietly sipped her tea.

“What harm does a small societal paper pose to you? Let Lady Matoya have her audience,” Y'shtola responded.

“She poses no harm, but to question the Crown so unabashedly…Well, it weakens us in the eyes of the people. Our good King’s peaceful disposition has long made the Crown seem docile. We must show strength in our ability to direct the flow of society. To appear that we have control in all facets of life so that everyone has no reason to not feel secure in the ton and elsewhere in the Kingdom.”

“Ah yes, the Garleans tremble in fear of your astute choice of debutant. I for one will sleep better knowing we're safe once Miss Hext has been wedded and in her marriage bed,” Y'shtola hummed.

Thalia narrowed her eyes at her friend then sat up. “There are rumors that you are Lady Matoya, you know. Your tongue is certainly as sharp.”

“Me? I don't know when I'd find the time,” Y'shtola responded dismissively. “And then to risk your ire? I would miss the delicious tea so graciously brewed for us by my cousin.”

“Thank you, Miss,” Y'zel said with a little bow.

Thalia shifted in her seat then pulled out the papers to reread Lady Matoya’s words. “Well let us hope she is right about Miss Lupis in hopes that she is out of our view as fast as she came into it. Her father was a dissenter. Perhaps it is she that is writing against me to gain favour with the ton and you make me look foolish. I shall consider calling upon Lady Griffin before her ball. I can offer my assistance and if an engagement comes from it then it will be by my generosity and not her foresight.”

Y'shtola pursed her lips and stared at the Queen silently as the woman flipped through the papers again. “Tell me, have you noticed that Lord Griffin often hurries to Duke Summer’s side after every dance?”

“If one wishes to propose, I believe one would want to court favor with whoever holds his paramore’s dowry. That is nothing strange.”

“Really? Then I shall forget it then.”

Y'zel tilted his head as his cousin seemed to stare upward at the ceiling as the Queen forced the subject elsewhere. He could not help but think the Queen had missed a well placed trap.

Dear Gentle Reader,

This very well might not even be news, as Lady Gryphon’s annual Hyacinth Ball played host to what seemed like the entire ton. Even I could not keep up with all the faces and exchanges that occurred through the evening. Regardless, nothing could of happened that was more interesting than Miss Fordola’s near total humiliation on the dance floor. Once again Ser Arenvald Lentinis proved that even with it injured, he has more spine than any man in the ton save for our good King. Lord Gryphon might very well have lost his chance with our Citrine.

Yours truly,

Lady Matoya

G'raha smiled as he held Fordola close and spun about the dance floor as hyacinth petals fluttered down about them. It was picturesque, he thought. A brilliant show of beauty and grace and in the background the Duke’s smiling face as he watched.

“This is all a bit much, isn't it? Your mama cornered me early on requesting I make myself ready at the tenth bell as she appears to have hurt her ankle and would appreciate it if I would dance with you in her place at the climax of the night.”

“Is that so,” G’raha said, a slight blush across his cheek. “I am sorry for that. If you’d like, I will go speak to her,” he offered, looking up at the clock as it inched a quarter before the bell. 

“If you don’t want to dance with me-”

“That is not it at all! You just seemed to find all of this inundating,” G’raha assured her before stepping back with a bow as their song came to an end.

“I do; however, it will please my brother and I’m sure it’ll pacify your mother. If I have to be made a spectacle of, I’d at least like to do it with someone who I can tolerate,” Fordola huffed.

“Ah, well. I will consider that a high compliment then. If you’ll excuse me. I have something I’d like to discuss with the Duke.”

“Go on then,” Fordola sighed dismissively before checking her dance card to see which suitor would scoop her up next.

G’raha bowed again then removed himself from the floor, finding Keith waiting nearby. He smiled up at the other, feeling the familiar rush of his heartbeat as he drew closer. While he found Fordola to be a delightful change from the usual debutants flung at him by his mother, there was a guilty pang within him that noticed he had begun to approach her so that he might chance upon her brother. “Good evening, your Grace.”

“Not that again,” Keith laughed. “Keith, please for the love of The Twelve.”

“I wouldn’t dare do so without you announcing it. I do not want to run the risk of looking like I’m trying to be too informal with my betters,” G’raha said, grinning wide as he made his friend recoil.

“Betters? Are any of them here? Has the King deigned to join us,” Keith balked, playing along as he scanned the crowd.

“You flatter me too much, sir.”

“Throwing names at the kettle are we then?”

The two laughed, Keith soon clasping his hand onto G’raha’s shoulder a moment as he swayed. G’raha perked up, looking at Keith worried as he clutched his throat a bit. “Is something wrong?”

“My throat burns. Too many spirits I think. I should find a place to sit down,” Keith said before letting out a light cough.

“Come, my study is just down the hall,” G’raha said, taking Keith’s hand in his. As they made their way through to the inner parts of the mansion, G’raha stopped briefly to grab a flute of water before tucking into his study with Keith and sitting him down on the couch.

Keith smiled, taking the water then gratefully downing it as his friend took a seat beside him. “Thank you,” he said, clearing his throat a bit before looking about at the room, finding every wall to be littered with books.

“My father’s collection. I think I’ve read through every single one of them at least twice now. Even the dryer ones,” G’raha said, noting Keith’s wandering gaze.

“Really? That’s rather impressive. I can’t imagine what your library must be like then,” Keith marveled.

“Library?”

“Yeah? Where all the books in the house go?”

“This would be it. You have a library,” G’raha asked, eyes widening.

Keith nodded then leaned back on the couch. “Yeah. I thought all great houses did. We have one and then there’s a smaller one at the main house near Rhalgar’s Reach.”

“Oh. Oh, I would love to see it,” G’raha said, before shaking his head. “No, such collections of books are not of the norm for even the nicest of estates. Most are confined to a study like this. From what I remember of your father, his expansive library was open to the public. When I was a boy my father brought me to visit. I spent hours there poring over pages. It seems your adoptive father inherited the collection.”

“Perhaps. Wait, if you visited, where was I?” Keith asked.

G'raha sat back, shocked at the realization. “You know, I am unsure. I have a vague memory of your eldest brother there but I cannot recall meeting you. I-” G'raha stopped himself, ears sinking as he caught Keith's expression soften. “Apologies. This must be a difficult subject for you.”

“Huh? No. Go on. So few people speak of my family. What do you remember of Sammy,” Keith encouraged, taking G’raha’s hand in his own.

“Oh…,” G'raha said before looking down at where their hands met. “Um, well. As I said, it is vague. He was fascinated with the law. Said he wanted to be a lawyer. I don't remember where you were though.”

“Well, I wasn't one for books,” Keith chuckled, far lighter than normal. “I was probably out being led around on whatever adventure Fordola was on about. Sammy was definitely the smart one though…That brought me a lot of trouble. He could convince me of anything. That day…he told me that sharks could jump onto ships and eat a whole crew and I believed him. I'm kinda gullible…He saved me though, doing that. I wonder if he thought of that when the ship was lost…that he saved me.”

G'raha grunted as Keith squeezed his hand, the other’s face tense as he ground his teeth. Tears were in the corner of his eyes, and before G'raha knew it he was leaning in to brush them away with his free hand. Keith sniffled lightly, looking at him quietly before widening his eyes as G'raha closed in to kiss him.

The Duke remained still, not sure what to make of the other pawing at him. He'd never been kissed, not intimately at least. Still, he was caught in the moment, and somehow he figured to properly part his lips and invite G’raha to continue. On instinct he gripped the back of his head, holding him close as his loins stirred and he started to feel a strange tightness in his trousers. His stomach twisted, unsure whether it was his nerves or excitement, unable to tell the difference being ignorant to the realm of love making.

Still, he did not stop G’raha, finding the other purring softly into his mouth as he expertly worked open the front of his suit. Laid out on his couch, he found himself doing the same, mimicking the movements of the other’s tongue before sitting up and lowering the other onto his back. With a pant, he parted from the kiss, looking into G’raha’s nervous ruby gaze before trailing down to his neck then leaning in to give it a small nip, then a kiss, earning moans from the other under him. 

Above them, a clock started to chime for the hour, serenading them as their hips met. G’raha seemed to shudder with delight as their trapped bulges found one another. As the clock reached its tenth bell, G’raha’s ear perked. Squirming, he pushed Keith away then started to pant. “The music has stopped. The dance! Your sister…I’ve abandoned your sister.”

Keith bolted to his feet, stepping back from G’raha as he stood to fix his mussed up suit before starting for the door. He turned, looking to Keith nervously who seemed to be avoiding his gaze with his hand over his mouth, cheeks stained red with embarrassment. “I am sorry,” G’raha whispered before hurrying out back into the hall.

As he returned to the ballroom, the music had started back up. G’raha peaked over the crowd then pushed his way to the front, finding Ser Lentenis wheeling around in a circle with Fordola on his lap, moving in time with the music. Stopping, he let her stand then held her hand as she moved around him. In the distance, he saw his mother wringing out her glove in her hand staring daggers at him from across the way.

“Oh buddy, you’re so lucky,” a chipper voice said from beside him.

Turning, G’raha found Lord U’rahn t Drake watching the Ser Lentenis expertly wheel Fordola about for the party before others started to join in. G’raha swallowed hard. “Yes, it seems good Arenvald came to the rescue while I was engaged elsewhere.”

“A true herrro that one,” U’rahn agreed. “Though I do not think he’ll be able to save you from your mama.”

G’raha chuckled nervously, turning to look over his shoulder as Keith wandered back into the crowd, unable to meet his gaze. His heart sank.

Dear Gentle Reader,

I bring joyous news. It seems the coveted Lord G’raha t Gryphon has formally announced his engagement to the favorite of the season, Miss Fordola Lupis. It is good, for Miss Lupis’s reputation, that Lord Gryphon had been seen so frequently engaged with Duke Summers lest the state they were found in at the time of the proposal might have sparked illicit rumors that might have ruined the poor girl’s reputation. Do not let yourself be taken in by gossip, I can attest that whatever rumor you might hear, that all parties were innocent.

Yours in excitement,

Lady Matoya

“Are you really content to sit upon the shore,” G’raha asked, adjusting Keith’s parasol so as the other sat down on his blanket, Newton crawling up into his lap soon after with a happy bark.

“He’s still scared of open water. You would have a better chance at setting a fire under the waves than getting him on the boat let alone the docks,” Fordola said, tossing Keith a paper-wrapped sandwich from their picnic basket before pulling on G’raha’s arm toward the dock, not noticing the sausage link that she’d absently left out to dangle.

“Yeah…I’m going to be fine here,” Keith said, opening the sandwich lightly, not meeting G’raha’s gaze, as he’d avoided doing ever since the Hyacinth Ball.

“Ah, Miss Lupis. Why don’t you put our lunch on the sailboat and I will be right behind you,” G’raha requested, freeing his arm.

Fordola frowned then turned. “Whatever. Just hurry up. I’m starving. And mind the planks. They’re old,” she said before making her way off the beach and toward the docks.

Once she was out of ear shot, G’raha returned his attention to Keith, squatting down as Newton suddenly started to squirm about in his arms. “Keith…will you never look me in the eye again?”

“I don’t know what you mean. I’ve looked you in the eyes plenty. You shouldn’t keep my sister waiting,” Keith said while trying to keep Newton still. “C’mon boy, chill out.”

“You have not. Not since we…since I assaulted you…”

“What? You did nothing of the sort,” Keith said, nearly losing his grip on his dog as he looked up in shock.

“I did! I forced myself on you and nearly humiliated your sister by acting out,” G’raha protested. “I could not control my feelings at the moment. I did not think about all the lines I was crossing. I just wanted to have you and you have me.”

“Did you not think I wanted the same? I gave just as much as you took; but, you are to be my sister’s happiness and nothing comes before that for me. If she wishes to keep accepting your courting, I cannot stop her,” Keith said before shaking his head and patting the struggling Newton. “She is my only family left.”

G’raha balled his fists. He wanted to tell Keith the real reason for his courting Miss Lupis, but even with the other admitting consent he could not bring himself to disappoint him by admitting his true inclinations for her brother. Men dueled for less. “Then I hope she accepts someone that will not give you cause for worry, so that way you might find your own happiness,” G’raha managed to get out, ears and tail falling limp.

Keith didn’t answer, but seemed to gaze down at his boots before feeling Newton slip from his arms and race down the beach toward the docks. “Newton! Hells! Newton!” he cried out, shifting onto his feet to give chase with G’raha.

“Slow down! Newton!” G’raha called after, hurrying with Keith to the dock.

Newton barked happily as he continued to give chase, rushing by folks until hitting the dock and chasing down Fordola and the stray sausage sticking out from her basket, only to fall through a gap in the planks. G’raha hurried to look over to find the dog paddling happily in the gentle waves below and barking. He turned, looking back at Keith who was on his knees at where the docks met the sand holding himself. Before he could go to say everything was okay, the wood under him gave and he fell, hitting his head against the opposite plank. As he hit the water, everything went dark.

When he stirred again, he felt a pair of soft lips on his own and little licks on his cheeks. Sitting up, he coughed up seawater then rubbed his eyes, finding his jacket missing and his white shirt stuck to him with seawater. Beside him on the dock, a very wet Newton sat then wagged up at him while Fordola panted on his opposite side, soaked in her dressing gown. “You idiot. I warned you,” she scolded.

“Yes,” he said, flushing at the state of her undress.

Looking to the beach, he saw Keith where he’d last seen him. Beyond people were starting to take notice, U’rahn t Drake and Ser Arenvald being among the crowd as the latter wheeled down to Keith with the former riding on the back of his chair. With Fordola’s help, they returned to shore, finding the Duke almost in tears as he shook. 

“We’re fine brother, we’re fine,” Fordola said softly, lowering to her knees to hug her brother.

“Rahn, go fetch Miss Lupis’s gown. This attention will not be good,” Arenvald said, his friend giving a nod and hurrying down the docks to collect Fordola’s discarded things. “Is everything alright? I fear the sand will stall me, but my lungs are hearty enough to call for help, though a delay might be wise. Should a crowd come upon Miss Lupis undressed as she is…”

“I was saving his life,” Fordola snapped. “They can mind their own business. My dignity or virtue or whatever those gossips care about does not outweigh the life of another. My brother is the one that needs care. He’s in shock. His family was lost to the sea, y’know,” she said, arm around Keith.

G’raha shook his head then looked out as people started to gather close. “It will be your life forfeit. Your brother wants nothing more than to see you settled in a life that will keep you happy. If anyone spied us on the docks and got the wrong idea your place in society will be compromised by jealous tongue wagging and the schemes of those who wish to see you fall out. That Lady Matoya painted a rather large target upon your back. You will become untouchable,” he started before getting onto his knee, looking Keith in the eye as he picked up his hand. “Keith…I mean your Grace. Please allow me to propose to your sister…and Fordola, please do me the honor of accepting. We might not be a love match but we are good company and I can ensure you a life that you might do as you please.”

Keith gave a little nod, petting Newton as the wet dog crawled up into his lap. His family restored, he took in a deep breath then looked up at everyone. “Yes, that…that seems for the best,” he said as Fordola helped him to his feet in time for U’rahn to return with her basket and dress for her to put back on.

“I could do worse,” Fordola said in the mess of fabric before popping her head out from the top. “Fine. I accept.”

G’raha’s heart raced as he gave a nod before Arenvald turned in his chair to look back at the crowd. “Clear a path! Lord Drake and his fiance have suffered a small accident on the docks and the Duke is in a fit of shock! Get back!” he ordered, letting U’rahn help him back up the hill to part people out of the way so that the trio and Newton could advance forward behind them.

Dear Gentle Reader,

It warms my heart to see how year after year the ton doesn't cease to give us a surprise. Gentle reader, it is true what they say: True love is not selfish. It always trusts, always hopes, and always endures.

Yours in love,

Lady Matoya

G’raha swallowed as he stood at the front of the church, the priest impatiently drumming his fingers upon the Enchiridion as he waited. His brothers stood behind him, occasionally reaching out to pat his back while his mother sat teary eyed up front with his sisters. Across the aisle a few people from town sat, Lord Drake and Ser Letinis up front giving him a thumbs up of encouragement. On the bride’s side, Newton sat in a little peach bow tie, wagging his little stub of a tail.

Soon the music started and through the doors Duke Summers in his cream suit and Miss Lupis in her peach dress laced with little purple flowers started their procession forward together. Arriving at the altar, Keith kissed his sister’s forehead then led her up to G’raha before taking his place to stand behind her with Newton.

“Well then, if we are finally ready to begin,” the priest said before clearing his throat to start the ceremony.

G’raha smiled, not really paying attention as the man spoke, looking at Fordola as she stared neutrally back before letting his gaze slip up toward Keith’s. Eyes locked, he inhaled nervously unable to push back the pang of loss in his heart, noting a similar expression on Keith’s face: An unspoken melancholy of a future together, but at the same time apart. G’raha’s attention returning to Fordola, he found her tracing where his attention had gone. “Oh, swive me,” she breathed out, getting a startled gasp from the audience.

“I beg your pardon Miss! This is a holy place,” the priest cut in.

“By the Twelve, you’re both such idiots,” Fordola huffed, ignoring the priest before turning to her brother. “You’re both in love aren’t you?”

The crowd murmured as G’raha was taken aback, stumbling back into one of his brothers only to be pushed forward as Keith shook his head. “F-Fordola. Please. Don’t-” the Duke protested before finding his sister putting her flowers in G’raha’s hands then pushing her brother forward. 

“I am not about to sit here and be sold off and spend my days being a third wheel in my own marriage. I had my suspicions, but your Lord here cannot get through our wedding ceremony without giving you a longing stare. For once, do something for yourself and not worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

Keith gulped, looking at G’raha with the flowers then to the increasingly annoyed priest staring daggers between them. Without realizing it, he found himself reaching down to take G’raha’s in his, looking at it then up to his nervous face.

“Did we get ourselves sorted out,” the priest asked.

“I…I think so,” Keith breathed out before turning to his sister, “But- What about you?”

Fordola rolled her eyes then turned and pointed into the front row. “You. You want to spend the rest of our days getting to know one another?”

“Me,” U’rahn asked, pointing to himself as he stood up eagerly.

“No.”

“Oh,” U’rahn sounded before lowering his ears and taking a seat as he looked to Arenvald as he wheeled forward.

“Truly,” he asked, brows raised high.

“Aside from my brother’s love here you’re the only one that has been tolerable and I find you pleasing to the eyes and enjoy your humor. You could have worse offers,” Fordola huffed, cheeks turning red as she looked away.

“I accept then,” Arenvald said, wheeling forward, taking Fordola by the hand to guide her into his lap.

“Can you multitask,” Fordola asked, looking up at the priest.

“...When there is a very large, generous donation from Duke Summers on the horizon, I suppose,” the priest answered unamused, raising his brow toward Keith.

“O-Of course,” Keith breathed out before looking at G'raha and grinning.

“Very well then. Unless there’s someone else wanting to interrupt and make this day any stranger…” the priest trailed before returning to the ceremony.

Once it finished, the hall filled with music once more leaving Keith to lean in and kiss G’raha then take his hand to escort him away with Newton following behind. “Well, this was…unexpected…are dowries exchanged here? We might have to look into that. Ah, no matter. We’re starting a life together. What do we even do now?”

G’raha balked as they paused just outside the church, “Have you not given marriage any thought?”

Keith shook his head. “I wanted to get Fordola settled but beyond that I had no plans for myself. Once she was happy, I was going to continue the work my birth parents started. Y’know, charities and all that. Hey! There’s an idea, we can open up the library again and you can run it!”

“Yes, charities will be a good use of our time…and I would love to see those books…though I suppose, I will be living among them. We have so much to figure out,” G’raha breathed out.

“We do. But we can figure it out together,” Keith said before leaning down to kiss his new husband before leading him off to their happily ever after.

Inside, Fordola wrapped her arm around Arenvald and let him start wheeling after her brothers. They paused briefly as Arenvald caught U’rahn crying in the front row. “You okay,” he asked, putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Yeah. It was just all so beautiful,” U’rahn said before wiping at his face and beaming up at the happy couple. “That was trrrue love!”

Dear Gentle Reader,

The Summers-Lupis Library has finally been opened to the public, promising a wealth of knowledge to a town for their perusing. While we all had a shock of seeing the Duke take up Lord Gryphon as his betrothed, it seems their union is destined to be a happy one. Even the King and Queen are said to have come to the opening of their estate to the public to congratulate them on their marriage and give their marked approval of the library.

Many have been chomping at the bit as to what will be made of the Dukedom’s line. While the happy couple has declared they will soon be looking into adopting after their newlywed phase, Duke Summers has requested to pass the title to his sister’s first eligible heir, returning the title to the family who had graciously taken him in. Speaking of Mrs. Linitus, an heir, is rumored to be on the way! 

With the season coming to a close, I wish you all safe travels back to your estates and look forward to reuniting with you next summer.

Yours truly,

Lady Matoya

[sugaakookiee]

Masterlist

KSJ

Nothing yet...

MYG

Nothing yet…

JHS

Nothing yet…

KNJ

Nothing yet…

PJM

Nothing yet..

KTH

Nothing yet…

JJK

All the Time in the World - Jungkook x Reader | Hospital AU | Posted: 122723

OT7

Nothing yet…

Other

To Theo Sharpe With Love | one | two | three | epilogue (TBD) | Theo x Eloise: Bridgerton

Dance the Night Away (TBD) | Theo x Eloise: Bridgerton

PANDORA | FICTIONAL KPOP GROUP |

Power Rangers Space Pirates (TBD)

[kmomof4]

Had to reblog again after rereading this beauty!!! A MASTERFUL retelling of the first Bridgerton season!!! A FUN ride on EVERY level!!! LOVE this fic so much!!!

CS AU: The Duke and His Swan (5/5)

Summary: Dearest Reader, the ton is abuzz with speculation that the new Duke of Ironhook will be remaining in town for the duration of the Season. Second born of the illustrious Jones family, Killian Jones has quite the legacy to live up to now he has inherited the dukedom from his late elder brother. Also entering Society for her first season is Miss Emma Swan, ward to the Viscount Nolan’s family. Gifted with a respectable dowry, Miss Swan’s financial worth and uncommon good looks will surely make up for her rumored prickly disposition in the eye of more than one fortune seeking suitor. Stay tuned, Dear Reader, for this author has it on good authority His Grace and Miss Swan shall cause quite a sensation, perhaps even resulting in… scandal!

A/N: Sorry I didn’t post a sneak peek this week! I know I promised I would, but when it came down to it everything seemed too spoilery.  I hope posting early will make up for it, though! With all the Memorial Day events we have planned tomorrow, I wanted to make sure the final installment got posted sooner rather than later.

Thank you all for coming on this journey with me. I SO appreciate all the reblogs, comments, likes, kudos, and reviews. Thanks so much!!

Much love to @artistic-writer for the gorgeous pic set she created to accompany this fic, and a thousand rainbow hearts and unicorn stickers to @kmomof4 and @ilovemesomekillianjones for being my cheerleader and beta, respectively. Love you ladies to bits!!

Rated M for language and smut / Available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four

Part Five

What a whirlwind of a week, Dear Readers. One filled with tantalizing tales that I, Lady Priscilla Candlewyck, promise to convey to you even as they continue to unfold within the ton.

First, it seems Mr. Neal Cassidy has found himself no longer in possession of a membership at Aesop’s. While speculation runs rampant, I can tell you his honor has been called into question. It seems he owes vast sums to a number of debtors, a problem he likely sought to solve by marrying an heiress, which would explain his relentless pursuit of a certain Duke’s Swan. While such circumstance is not unheard of within the ton, it appears that is only the beginning of Mr. Cassidy’s misfortunes. This Author has heard it rumored the man recently engaged in an act of such cowardice and despicable character, he is no longer welcome in any respectable home or business and is, at this very moment, embarking on an extended journey abroad where we can only hope he will have the good sense to remain in exile.

But let us not dwell on these unpleasant topics, Dear Reader, for there is reason to rejoice! Like many of you, I confess a most undignified sound of pure elation escaped me when I read the Pronouncement of Engagement between Miss Emma Swan and The Duke of Ironhook in yesterday’s evening paper. I must tell you, though, Faithful Reader, that is not the most exciting and intriguing bit of news regarding the Duke and his Swan. For by the time you read this, the two will have found themselves, not simply intended for one another, but pronounced husband and wife! At this very moment, they are likely on their way to the Duke’s country estate to begin their honeymoon, and I am sure you will join me in wishing them every happiness and satisfaction in their wedded bliss.

~/~

A warm, orange glow filled the cab of the Duke’s carriage as it gently rocked and swayed the two inhabitants sitting in quiet resolve within. Other than when they’d exchanged their vows earlier that morning, Emma and the Duke had not said much to one another. Pleasantries mostly. Expected and necessary comments of polite and proper discourse as they entertained the few guests invited to the ceremony and modest reception. Overly civil and formal exchanges when they’d stopped for dinner on the road. Emma thought she might go mad from the silence, but was at a loss of how to break it without causing greater damage to their already fractured existence.

Silhouettes of towering trunks flickered past the carriage window, alerting Emma to the change of scenery. Killian had told her his lands lay just beyond a forest where the occasional vagrant or bandit would attempt to waylay coaches at night, thus their need to leave out from the city by midday so they could reach the estate by nightfall. She supposed he did not relish having to spend their wedding night at a roadside inn, and was quite frankly glad of that.

Nerves fluttered through her chest and down into her stomach at the prospect of what awaited her once they reached the estate. Churnings of both apprehension and anticipation had made it difficult for her to consume much of anything that day, and with the sun’s descent towards the horizon and the pace of the carriage seemingly increasing in speed, her heart soon matched their swiftness with its strumming beats racing beneath her breast.

Perhaps sensing the mounting tension permeating the cab from her attempts to quell her thoughts regarding their wedding night, Killian shifted in his seat and finally broke the silence hanging heavily between them.

“Not much farther now.” His own gaze was fixed on the blur of trees sweeping past. “I sent word yesterday to the housekeeper, Mrs. Tremaine, that a formal welcome and introduction of the staff can wait until tomorrow. I imagined you’d be tired upon our arrival and would wish to be shown to your room so you might turn in for the night.”

Emma’s head snapped toward his, her brow creased in confusion as she questioned, “My room?”

Killian’s Adam’s apple bobbed and his eyes remained focused on the landscape which had begun to change back into golden fields as they left the shadows of the forest. “Aye. It is customary for the Duchess to have her own chambers, and I would not presume to expect duties from you until–”

“But I am perfectly prepared to meet those expectations,” Emma assured him. His eyes fell shut and a heavy exhale shuddered from his chest, prompting her to reach forward and place her hand over his, balled up into a fist atop his thigh. “Killian,” she said softly. “I know you do not love me, that this is a marriage born of duty and not something you truly wanted, but I am determined to make the best of our situation. I know what is expected of me, what is required of us, in order to secure the future of the Ironhook name. You need an heir, and there is only one way for us to produce one. I may not have been your first choice as Duchess, just as being a wife and mother was not something I had ever anticipated wanting, but we both must find a way to compromise the expectations we had for our lives and make the best of the one we find ourselves forever joined in.”

Squeezing his hand tighter, she looked at him pleadingly, needing him to meet her halfway in this commitment and the forgiveness she desperately sought from him while wishing to impart her own absolution for the part he played in their current predicament. The desire to confess the fullness of her heart to him remained firmly planted on her tongue. She was certain he felt trapped enough as it was, and did not wish to add to the burden of his responsibility to her by making him feel as though he must reciprocate the love she held for him. Perhaps, if she were truly fortunate, he would come to love her with time.

“You think I…” Killian’s words, even as they trailed off, pulled her attention back to him. She flinched back when he raised his other fist and pounded on the wall behind him, the one that separated the cab from the driver. The carriage slowed to a stop, and before Emma could pose an inquiry as to why, Killian stepped out and demanded the reins from the coachman.

Emma jostled when the wheels began to turn once more, her hands gripping the bottom of the window as she peered out to see where Killian was taking them. They had not traveled far when a lane appeared on their right, its destination leading to a grand manor house Emma could barely make out in the waning light of the day. After coming to a stop once more, Killian alighted from the driver’s seat and opened the carriage door, assisting her from the cab with an expression full of trepidation.

“Where… Where are we?” Emma asked, taking in the vast house and sweeping lawns. “What is this place?”

“This,” Killian said, leading her away from the carriage and to a better vantage point where she could appreciate the manor and all its amenities better, “is my wedding gift to you.”

Keep reading

[fredwinnie]

MMFF LISTE

inspired by materialki und aus eigenem Interesse hab ich mal zusammengeschrieben, was ich spontan im Kopf hatte und bitte um Korrektur und Ergänzungen von euch :)

﹅ Anmeldung geschlossen ﹆ Anmeldung offen

Harry Potter

﹅ behind your back – freeserenemind (@freeserenemind)

﹆ the death of medusa – grapevine

﹅The Mysteries of Blackmoore Manor – Bonnie Eldritch (@bonnieeldritch)

﹅ the path of corrupted magic – MoonchildSassi

﹅WELCOME TO MY DOWNFALL – MagicLock (@annimagiclock)

﹅under your skin – reversereaction (@reversereaction)

One Piece

﹅ Hamartia – by Valchen @hamartia-mmff (@daydreamervalchen)

Percy Jackson

﹅ Curse of Lazarus – by Caleb @curse-of-lauzarus (@shineyfroggo)

﹅ Der Götterfunke und das Geheimnis des Nebels – by thedodo (@the-doodo)

﹆ goodbye and good luck – by fredwin @goodluckgoodbye (@fredwinnie)

﹅ Oblivion – by Aleviana, Skotophobia, WeisesFrettchen (@aieviana, @skotophobia, @weisesfrettchen)

Prosa

﹅ Jump Start (F1) – by Nyaheum (@nichtlichtsicht)

﹅ Witch Valley (Fantasy) – by winding veins (romanova & Anahita) @winding-veins (@copper-minnow, @bejeweldskeleton)

COMING SOON

Bridgerton

birds of a feather (FRÜHJAHR 2025) – materialki (@materialki-ff )

Harry Potter

reboot: soul bound (2025) – reversereaction (@reversereaction)

Sherlock

The Voice of the Rose (SOMMER 2025) – Flowers of destiny (@shellyscosplay)

Prosa

strange old things (ao3) (folklore horror/queer) (2025) – growing thorns (@gr0wing-th0rns)

Wiedergeburt aus Blut und Asche (Fantasy) (FRÜHJAHR 2025) – MagicLock @phoenixflamme (@annimagiclock)

[bellessimaa]

What time should have been best for a Kanthony hypothetical elopement? (asking for a friend, and perhaps an AU)

[bonnieeldritch]

WIP It's time again Es ist mal wieder ein Mittwoch eingetroffen. Was lässt euch gerade nicht Los an Storyd, OC pder anderen Konzepten.? Tell us  about your current WOrk in progresses #sharewhatintheworks #ffmmff #workinprogress #fanfiction.de #sharingiscaring

Ganz fesch zu spät kommt dann auch mal meine Antwort, bevor ich die nämlich im Weihnachtsstress am morgen gänzlich vergesse. 🫡 Viel gibt es diesmal bei mir auch nicht zu erzählen. Meine Stories bleiben Sisterhood und Blackmoor, andere Konzepte gibt es bei mir derzeit auch nicht. An Tariq für Quinas Good Luck and Goodbye versuche ich ebenfalls zu arbeiten, allerdings müsste ich mich dafür hinsetzen und tippen und das will mir gerade nicht so wirklich gelingen. 🥲 Aber das wird sicher. Gut, dass wir mehr Zeit bekommen haben, auch, damit ich die ganzen Informationen zur Story einverleiben kann, die mittlerweile draußen sind. Davon ab?

Davon ab arbeite ich eigentlich nur an einem weiteren OC und der ist für Milenas im nächsten Jahr kommende MMFF Birds of a Feather gedacht. 😌 Ich hab noch nie eine Folge Bridgerton geschaut, keine Videos auf Social Media oder auch nur eines der OG Bücher angerührt, und dementsprechend neu ist hier wirklich alles für mich, lol. Yours truly wusste zum Beispiel nicht einmal, dass es eine Lady Whistledown gibt, die Gossip Girl seine Ururoma ist. 🌞 Find ich aber ziemlich geil, denn das gibt dem ganzen ein bisschen weniger Fluff und Romance und wenigstens ein bisschen Kabale und Liebe Flair. Gefällt mir außerordentlich gut. 😌 Mein Girly nutzt aber direkt mal die eine Sache von Bridgerton aus, die ich oberflächlich betrachtet echt nice finde: das Multi Kulti. Wann habe ich sonst die Möglichkeit, einen PoC Charakter für eine England 19tes Jahrhundert Story zu schreiben, ohne das Thema RASSISMUS riesig groß behandeln zu müssen. So, aber jetzt Vorhang auf für ein kleines Moodboard, das dennoch viel verrät- verraten kann? Na, ich lass euch selbst ein Urteil bilden. :D So viel sei gesagt: versteckt ist hier nichts.

Was ich euch aber schon einmal verrate, ist das jedes Element etwas zu bedeuten hat. Ich möchte eigentlich sagen, dass alles ziemlich offensichtlich ist und ganz besonders für jene, die mein Konzept kennen 😂 AH und noch eine Sache: das Bild links ist Gugu Mbatha-Raw als Belle im gleichnamigen Film und ein tolles FC, falls noch jemand ein Schwarzes Mädchen ins Rennen schicken will. Mein OC wird eine anderes FC haben, allerdings will ich sie noch ein bisschen gatekeepen. Sollte jemand Gugu toll finden, fühlt euch hiervon nicht abgehalten. 😌💕 Was kann ich noch zu meinem Girl verraten? Nun, eigentlich nichts. Ich hab zwar einen Namen, eine Hintergrundgeschichte, wie sie in BoaF landet, und schon einiges zum Charakter - aber auch das bleibt erstmal hinter verschlossenen Türen leise gewispert, damit @materialki-ff ein kleines bisschen leidet, so wie ich beim Abwarten beim Adventskalender. 🥰 Küsschen aufs Nüsschen, Milena! Ich weiß nicht, wie ich ab dem 25. morgens die Augen aufbekommen soll, ohne neugierig das neuste Türchen anzugucken 🤣

[snowbellewells]

@kmomof4 Good heavens, Krystal!!! 😭 What exactly are you trying to do to me?!? I’m seriously just in your prologue, and I was tearing up and almost bawling, not once, not twice, but three different times!!

You wrote Killian’s guilt and inner turmoil of loving his brother’s wife so well that my heart was breaking for him - even before the horrible, heartrending event happened. You have always been a brilliant writer - better than you give yourself credit for, I think - but you get more masterful with every story you put out, and this is very definite proof of that. 😍😍😍

I did love the joy and happiness and affection that was clearly present in Emma and Liam’s union. It was beautiful to see, even if just for a little while. And I loved the playful comraderie between the three of them, family and best friends, even with the pained turmoil Killian was hiding away. Emma was right about his loyalty and honor; he would have hidden it forever and never said a word, and would have preferred that to the pain losing Liam brought to the both of them. I loved their easy conversation and how well they understood each other as in-laws and friends, as evidenced in their evening walk…and then it was just shattered so completely. 😭

The abruptness, the quick finality and the unfairness of Liam’s loss so soon. And then her not even having the comfort of his child with her! 💔 It seems like more than Emma, and all of them really, should have to bear. You did such an intensely vivid and powerful telling of that scene though. From Killian’s hearing Emma scream, to the sight of his brother already gone, to Emma stumbling across the room and begging him to wake Liam - wow! I couldn’t breathe or look away until that scene was finished, even as I wanted for it not to be happening. And then Emma’s strength, even though her pain is clear, and Killian’s struggling to do his duty and wanting to be there for Emma but not being able to without revealing his secret. You’ve evoked all of it so well, but it was just tearing me up in the best and most dramatic of ways. I have been accused more than once 😏 of liking the hurt and angst, and I guess that’s true, because this was SO GOOD. I guess, if the hurt is this painful, then the comfort when it comes will be all the more satisfying? 🤷🏼‍♀️

Sheesh! I know I am not saying enough- and I’m not sure I am doing all the feels you produced any sort of justice, but what a start!!!

And the. Emma comes to see him, wants to know why he is staying away, and he can’t tell her!! And then he’s going to leave!! You are breaking my heart! But you know I’ll be back for more! 💔😉💔

A Scoundrel… Or a Gentleman?

Ohhhhhh, I’m so happy to FINALLY be posting this fic!!! Inspired by Francesca Bridgerton’s story, When He Was Wicked, I wrote the prologue - 8k words - last September, then took a six month break before sitting down and getting the rest of the thing written. I so hope I did the story justice and that you enjoy and let me know what you think!!

And now thanks to whom thanks are due!!! @jrob64 is a LITERAL SAINT for everything she did to make this fic better. She is an outstanding beta and a dear friend, but I seriously tried her patience going back over and back over and back over AGAIN trying to make this just right. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU, my friend, for EVERYTHING!!!

To @hollyethecurious for all the historical info that she shared with me and asking the questions that needed to be asked and answered before the fic was ready for posting. Her support was absolutely invaluable. Thank you, babe!!!

To @motherkatereloyshipper for her work on the Prologue artwork shown below. It is soooo beautiful, I could stare at it for hours!!! Thank you so much, darlin!!! Please give her lots of love!!!

The fic is complete with a total of 9chs. I’ll be updating twice a week- Wednesdays and Saturdays.

Summary: Killian Jones has been in love with Emma Nolan since the day he met her - the day before she married his brother Earl Liam Jones. That was six years ago, and Liam has been gone now for four years. Emma and Killian have both arrived in London for the season - her to seek a husband so she can hopefully bear children, him to finally take up his duties as the earl, including finding a wife. Will they succeed in their respective desires?

*spoiler alert- of course they will. It’ll just take them a little while to get there…*

Rating: M (smut in later chs)

Words: almost 8400 words of approx 59,5k

Tags: Regency Romance, Inspired by Francesca Bridgerton’s Story, Smut in Later Chapters

On ao3 if that’s your preference.

Tagging the usuals. Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

@Jrob64 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @the-darkdragonfly @jennjenn615 @donteattheappleshook @undercaffinatednightmare @pirateherokillian @cocohook38 @qualitycoffeethings @booksteaandtoomuchtv @superchocovian @motherkatereloyshipper @snowbellewells @pirateprincessofpizza @djlbg @lfh1226-linda @xarandomdreamx @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic @anmylica @laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate @gingerchangeling @caught-in-the-filter @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @captainswan-kellie @soniccat @beckettj @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @thisonesatellite @jonesfandomfanatic @elfiola @zaharadessert @ilovemesomekillianjones @mie779 @kymbersmith-90 @bluewildcatfanatic

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

Prologue

There is a moment in every man’s life in which his future becomes clear. A turning point of sorts. The moment when he becomes a man, when he leaves the irresponsibility and temerity of youth behind and turns his eyes to the future. A future that he’d never bothered to think about before. Unfortunately, that moment came for Killian Jones when he first laid eyes on Emma Nolan at a supper celebrating the imminent marriage between herself and Killian’s brother, Earl Liam Jones.

After years of chasing anything in a skirt, Killian grimaced at the irony. In all that time, he’d never allowed his heart to become entangled with his many, many romantic exploits. Allowing himself to be chased until he conquered, his reputation as a rake and a scoundrel was well deserved. He’d even stopped attending church, although he assuaged the pricking of his conscience by telling himself the derelict stones of Kilmartin Abbey on the Kilmartin estate up in Scotland… no originality among his ancestors there, who were so proud of the title when it was newly bestowed about 300 years ago, they attached it to everything they possibly could... Anyway, the Abbey couldn’t withstand a direct strike of lightning, which would surely happen if Killian Jones ever showed his face inside. 

Killian Jones

Worst of Sinners

He would have had it printed on calling cards if he didn’t think it would actually kill his mother. The only semblance of honor he’d maintained in his heart over all these years was the fact that the only times he’d slept with married women was if their husbands were tossers, and they’d produced at least two male offspring. Three, if one was sickly. He’d also never seduced a virgin, but even that wasn’t enough to redeem him now. Because this was the one thing that truly blackened his soul beyond all redemption. 

He coveted his brother’s wife. 

And had since that fateful moment two years ago. The day he met Emma Nolan. Now Emma Nolan Jones. Lady Kilmartin. Countess Kilmartin. Wife of his brother, the Earl of Kilmartin.

He could torture himself for days, thinking of every iteration of Emma Nolan Jones, but it would never change the simple fact. He couldn’t have her. She’d never be his.

Now, looking around the room where he, Emma, and Liam were enjoying some after-dinner conversation, he had to rise and cross the room to the decanter, pouring himself a drink to avoid the thoroughly besotted eyes Liam and Emma were making at each other.

“What shall we do for our second anniversary?” Emma asked, sitting down at the pianoforte, her long delicate fingers tickling the keys. Killian swallowed a low groan.

“Anything you want, darling,” Liam answered. He smiled gently at his wife as he opened the evening edition of the Times. She turned her attention to Killian.

“What do you think?”

“About what?” he asked, turning to her, a charming, lopsided smile on his face. No one took him seriously when he smiled like that, which was exactly the point. She pressed her lips into a thin line and Killian relented slightly. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t listening.”

“What should we do for our anniversary?”

If she’d thrust her own hand into his chest and squeezed his heart to dust, it probably would have hurt less. He shrugged indifferently. He was, after all, an expert at hiding what he really felt.

“It’s not my anniversary.”

Emma rolled her eyes, the corner of her lips lifting in amusement. It probably wasn’t a good thing that Killian spent far too much time studying the lips of his brother’s wife.

“I’m aware,” she huffed. “I was asking if you had any ideas for us.”

Killian lifted one brow quizzically. “Why would you ask me, when I have absolutely no experience in the realm of marriage or the anniversary celebration of such?”

The amusement left her face and was replaced with irritation and no small amount of sympathy. Emma rose and moved toward him.

Oh, God, he thought. Please no. There’s nothing worse than when she…

She placed her hand on his arm.

“You won’t always be unmarried, you know,” she said gently.

She shouldn’t be touching him. She couldn’t be touching him. His next words were with the singular purpose of getting her away from him.

“Am I to become your project then?” he bit out. “‘Killian can’t possibly be happy living his life of debauchery and aimlessness, so I must see him married,’” he mocked. “I am not interested in marriage, thank you very much.” 

She removed her hand from his arm and backed up, her brow furrowed, her mouth a small o of hurt. Thank heaven, it bloody worked, he thought, even as the guilt surged.

“We care about you, Killian, and we want to see you happy.”

And there it was. We. Not I. We. They were a unit. Liam and Emma. Lord and Lady Kilmartin. She may not have meant it that way, but that was what he heard. As if he’d ever forget it.

“I care about you, too.” His voice wasn’t much more than a whisper and he shot pleading eyes toward his brother who finally gave up all pretense of reading.

“Emma,” he chastised lightly. “Killian is a grown man. Let him find his happiness when he’s ready. In his own time.”

Emma shot her husband a disgruntled look. Killian had to bite back a bark laugh. He knew Emma almost as well as he knew his brother, and he recognized the root of her irritation was at being thwarted in her attempt to arrange the people in her life to her satisfaction. Liam smirked at him and picked his paper back up as she returned to the pianoforte and sat down, her visage contemplative. It suddenly lit up and Killian’s heart rate increased with it. 

“I should introduce you to…”

“Emma.” It was only a single word, but Liam’s voice held a note of reprimand in it. Leave him alone.

Emma deflated and Killian could have kissed his brother. He may have only thought he was saving Killian from Emma’s nagging, but if he had to suffer the woman he was in love with trying to find him a match - a match he was wholly uninterested in - it might be the final straw of his sanity. Truly. 

“We should all go for a walk,” she said suddenly. Killian looked out the windows where darkness had finally descended over London.

“Isn’t it a little late?” he asked.

“Not with two strong escorts,” she cheeked.

“I’ve an appointment in an hour,” Liam said. He winced and rubbed his temple. “And I’ve got a headache. I think I’ll lay down for a bit before leaving.” He looked at Killian then. “But you should go.”

Absolute proof that Liam hadn’t a clue about his brother’s true feelings for Emma.

“Parliament?” Emma asked. Liam nodded and rose. “Do you want me to wake you when we return?”

“I’ll ask my valet to do it, darling,” he said, dropping a gentle kiss to her lips. Killian averted his eyes. He’d never begrudge his brother and his beloved their happiness, but he certainly wasn’t going to watch them bask in the clear love between them. 

“I’ll just be a moment,” Emma assured him once Liam left, a soft smile on her face, her forest green eyes glowing. Perhaps it should disturb him how certain he was of the color of Emma’s eyes when she wasn’t even in the room, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He dreamed in shades of green these days. Emma green, the color should be called. He poured himself another drink and slammed it back, trying to steel himself for their impending constitutional. 

He knew he shouldn’t be accompanying her. He knew he shouldn’t ever be alone with her. But when she smiled, he was helpless to resist her. It may leave him wracked with equal parts guilt and desire later, but he couldn’t deny himself any amount of time in her presence. Because that’s all there would ever be. He’d never act upon his desires. Never betray his brother in that way or sully Emma’s reputation. There’d never be a kiss, meaningful glances or touches, whispered words of love and affection, or moans of passion. 

All he’d ever have was her friendship, her smile, and her company. And besotted fool that he was, he’d be happy with it.

She came back down wrapped in a soft yellow cloak and he held his elbow out for her to take. Resigned to his fate, he escorted the love of his life out of the house and to the street below. Lucky him.

~*~*~

As Emma and Killian walked along the street, Emma couldn’t help but think what a dear man her brother-in-law was. Oh, he’d be certain to scoff and list all the reasons his soul was as black as they came (none of which, she was afraid, were exaggerated) if she expressed those sentiments out loud, but she knew him nearly as well as she knew her husband, and Killian Jones possessed a heart of honor and had a capacity to love that was unequaled among the men of her acquaintance. And if she didn’t find him a wife soon, she’d go mad.

“Killian,” she began, turning to look at him.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he interrupted. “Didn’t Liam just suggest that you let me find my happiness in my own time?”

Emma’s jaw dropped in shock. “How did you know what I was going to say?”

“You’re a bit of an open book, my dear,” he said, looking at her and booping her on the nose. Emma huffed indignantly as they continued their walk.

It was funny. When she met Liam, she fell head over heels in love more quickly than she ever imagined possible. He understood her in a way that she’d never experienced before. Of course, she loved her family immensely, but as the youngest of six siblings, she often felt lost in the shuffle. Killian was the only sibling Liam had, and removing herself from the hubbub of London and her large family felt like a breath of fresh air. Not to mention the actual fresh air of Scotland, her new home.

But then there was Killian. She hadn’t met him until the day before her nuptials to Liam, since he’d just recently returned home from the Napoleonic Wars on the continent. He was handsome, to be sure, but there was an undeniable connection between them that she felt from the moment she met him. If Liam understood her the way no one ever had before - the opposite side of the same coin - then Killian was like a puzzle piece that fit her perfectly. A puzzle piece she never knew she was missing. He completed her. Besides Liam, Killian was her very best friend and that was why she wanted him to be as happy as she was. And the only way that was going to happen was if she found him a wife who’d make him as happy as Liam made her.

“Finding me a wife is not among your duties, Lady Kilmartin,” Killian spoke again, drawing her from her musings.

She huffed again. “Well, it should be.”

He laughed, which delighted her immensely. She could always make him laugh.

“Very well, then,” she said, dropping the subject for now. “Tell me something wicked. Something that Liam wouldn’t approve of.” Her lips lifted in a conspiratorial smirk that he returned in kind. It was a game they played, that spoke again to how Killain somehow completed her. As much as she loved her husband, hearing about Killian’s exploits was always immensely entertaining. And she knew Liam enjoyed hearing about them, too, even if he gave a token admonishment whenever he was also present. Killian never shared too much, he had too much discretion for that, but he’d share hints and innuendos that never failed to amuse her greatly.

“Alas, I’m afraid I’ve done nothing wicked this week,” he said with a sigh.

“You?” she asked, incredulous. “I find that very difficult to believe.”

“It’s only Tuesday, my dear,” he reminded her.

“I’m aware,” she shot back, “but aside from Sunday, which I’m sure you’d leave sacred…” She shot him a look that belied her words completely, earning her another laugh, “that would leave Monday, and a man can get up to quite a bit of mischief on a Monday.”

“Not this man,” he assured her. “Not this Monday.”

“What did you do then?”

He was quiet for a moment as they continued walking. 

“Nothing, really.” 

There was a tone of melancholy blanketing his words and Emma stopped and turned to him. His blue eyes shone under the street lamps and Emma was shocked at the intensity she found there. A moment later it was gone and the thought occurred to Emma that Killian Jones perhaps wasn’t really the man he wished others to believe him to be. Even her.

She squeezed his arm gently. “We must find you something,” she whispered into the night.

He held her gaze a moment longer then he looked up.

“We must return. Liam will have my head if you catch a chill.”

“Liam will blame me for my foolishness of insisting on a walk after dark, and well you know it. This is just your way of saying you have a woman waiting for you, probably wearing nothing but a sheet.”

He smirked. A devil-may-care grin that made Emma roll her eyes and recall why the female half of the ton fancied themselves in love with him, even without the title.

“Don’t be jealous, my dear,” he said, the teasing clear in his voice, making Emma roll her eyes again.

“As if I ever could be,” she scoffed.

He stopped and faced her, the way his black hair flopped over his brow making her long to brush it back. The intense look was back in his crystal blue eyes and Emma had trouble drawing a deep breath.

“I know.” His voice wasn’t much more than a whisper. “It’s the only reason I tease you.” He reached up and lightly ran his knuckles down the side of her face. “You’re the only woman I know who would never stray. I can’t tell you how much I admire you for that.”

“I love your brother. I could never betray him.”

“I know that, too.” His hand returned to his side. He was so handsome and so in need of love, Emma felt her heart would break. If only he’d let someone, anyone, into his heart. If anyone would care enough to look beneath the handsome, yet devilish facade, they’d find the man she knew- kindhearted, loyal, and true.

They continued toward Kilmartin House and Emma took a deep breath. “Thank you for bringing me out tonight. I was just feeling so closed in, claustrophobic almost. The fresh air did me quite a bit of good.”

“Then I’m happy to have been of service, milady,” he said as they climbed the steps to the front door of Kilmartin House. The door opened, the butler obviously looking out for them, and Emma undid and handed him her cloak and gloves.

“Will you stay or must you go?” she asked Killian. She could just see Liam’s valet coming down the stairs out of the corner of her eye.

Killian checked his pocket watch. “I’ll wait for Liam, if he hasn’t left yet. I came on foot, so I might as well avail myself of his carriage after he’s done with it.”

Emma nodded and turned to the valet. 

“Has his Lordship left yet?”

“No, my lady. I’ve rapped on his door, but he must be sleeping quite soundly. Do you still want me to wake him?”

Emma sighed. As much as she wished he could sleep longer, she knew how important this meeting was.

“No need,” she assured the man. “I’ll wake him myself. Thank you.” She nodded at him and Killian and hurried up the stairs.

Moments later, Emma’s scream pierced the night.

~*~*~

Killian had no memory of taking the stairs three at a time to rush to Liam’s bedchamber, one of two thresholds in the house he’d never breached. He suddenly found himself there, staring at the bed on the other side of the room, barely conscious of Emma screaming from where she sat on the edge of the bed as she shook the shoulders of his unnaturally pale and still brother.

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. Whoever that was lying on the bed, it wasn’t his brother. His brother was gone. He’d seen death in battle, but death wouldn’t dare come for Liam. Liam. Who was so strong. So steady. The pillar of their family. The one they all relied on. The picture of good health. 

He took a laborious step forward.

“Emma.” His voice was hoarse, strangled, and unsurprisingly Emma made no indication that she’d heard him, her screams continuing unabated. When she finally stopped to take a breath, her face turned to him.

She rose, her movements so slow and graceful, her face nearly as pale as Liam’s, Killian could have mistaken her for a ghost. She glided toward him and as she got closer, he could see the splotches of color high on her cheekbones, the sunkenness and redness of her eyes, the tear tracks down her cheeks. She grabbed his hand, her grip so tight her knuckles were white.

“Wake him up, Killian,” she begged, more tears spilling from her eyes. He met her gaze, knowing the same devastation she wore on her visage was reflected back to her on his own. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her in tightly, automatically, like some kind of machine. She grabbed the lapels of the coat he wore and buried her face in his chest, moaning like a wounded animal. “It was just a headache.” Her tears soaked his shirt. “It was just a headache. How could this happen? I don’t understand!” 

He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t offer her any sort of comfort beyond holding her as he was now because he didn’t understand either. Between Eton, Cambridge, and the Royal Navy, he’d been trained for everything the life of a gentleman had to offer. But he’d never been trained for this.

She pulled back suddenly, the cry falling from her lips coming from the depths of her soul. 

“WHYYYYYYYY??!!”

Just as suddenly as she pulled back from him, she collapsed in his arms, bringing them both to the floor. He stared, unseeing, at the far wall, wondering why he wasn’t crying. He was numb and his body felt heavy, like his very soul had been crushed. Killian’s internal cry echoed Emma’s.

Why?

~*~*~

“Could she be with child?” 

Killian sat behind Liam’s desk, and blinked at the question posed to him by Lord Isaac, a short and thin man who rather reminded Killian of a rat. The representative of the Committee for Privileges of the House of Lords had a self-important air about him that grated on Killian’s nerves. Liam hadn’t been gone - he still couldn’t bring himself to say or even think the truth - twenty-four hours and here was this bastard, demanding an audience and droning on about some sacred duty to the crown. He turned his attention back to Lord Isaac, his brow furrowed.

“What did you say?”

“Her ladyship,” he repeated, enunciating each syllable carefully, as if Killian had no idea of whom he spoke. “If she’s carrying, it will make things… difficult.”

“I don’t know,” he said, enunciating his own words just as carefully. He couldn’t believe he was hearing this right now. “I haven’t asked her.”

“You need to.” The man sniffed indignantly. “I’m sure you’re eager to assume control of your new holdings, but before you can do that, we must determine if she’s carrying. Furthermore, if she is, a member of our committee will need to be present at the birth.”

Killian was stunned. There was no other word for it. “I beg your pardon?” He was amazed he was able to get the words out.

“Baby switching,” Lord Isaac said grimly, with all seriousness. “There have been instances…”

“For God’s sake…” Killian interrupted, scrubbing his hand down his face.

“It’s for your own protection as much as anyone’s,” Lord Isaac assured him. “If she were to give birth to a girl, and no one is there to witness it, what’s to stop her from switching the babe with a boy?”

Killian couldn’t bring himself to dignify that with any kind of response.

“You need to find out if she’s carrying,” Lord Isaac insisted. “Arrangements will have to be made.”

“She was widowed yesterday,” Killian bit out. “I will not burden her with such intrusive questions.”

“There is more at stake here than her ladyship’s feelings,” Lord Isaac continued, haughtily. “We cannot properly transfer the earldom while there is doubt as to the succession.”

“The devil take the earldom,” Killian snapped.

Lord Isaac drew back in visible horror. “You forget yourself, my Lord.”

“I am not your lord,” Killian growled. “I’m not anyone’s…” He stopped suddenly, realizing almost too late that he was perilously close to tears. He glared at the man in front of him, trying to stave them off. This little weasel, who didn’t seem to understand that it wasn’t just an Earl who had died, but a man. 

His brother.

He expected that as soon as the abhorrent little rodent left, the door was locked behind him, and Killian was sure no one would observe him, the tears would finally come. 

“Someone has to ask her,” Lord Isaac said.

“It won’t be me,” Killian murmured.

“Then I will.”

Killian could take it no longer and was out of the chair like a shot, grabbing Isaac by the lapels of his jacket, pushing him against the wall before the man could even blink.

“You will not approach Lady Kilmartin,” he growled, menacingly. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, my Lord,” the damnable man choked out. Killian realized he was turning an alarming shade of purple, so he stepped back, releasing him.

“Get out.”

“You’ll need to…”

“Get out!” Killian roared.

“I’ll come back tomorrow, when you’re in a more calm frame of mind.” The man left quickly with as much dignity as he could muster and Killian closed the door firmly behind him, turning the lock before he returned to the desk.

He dropped his head into his hands and a single tear finally spilled over and tracked down his face. His chest was tight and his throat felt so narrow, it was a wonder he could breathe at all. A gasping sob escaped him and the dam broke. Killian’s anguish poured from him in a seemingly endless tide, the tears streaming down his face, soaking the loosened cravat he wore and the shirt underneath.

How had it come to this? Yes, as long as Liam and Emma had remained childless, he was second in line to the earldom. But no one seriously expected him to inherit. Liam was barely thirty and the picture of health. 

Word had already reached him that men at the club were calling Killian the luckiest man in Britain. What no one realized was that he’d never wanted this. He’d never wanted the earldom. He wanted his brother. 

And no one seemed to understand that.

Except Emma. Her devastation equaled his own, he knew. 

They’d put her to bed last night, him and her mother, Ruth, who’d arrived quickly after his urgent summons, and she’d slept soundly all night, too worn out from the shock of it all. Killian knew, because he’d spent the night opposite the large bed where Emma slept, in one of the chairs where he imagined Liam and Emma taking their morning coffee before starting their days. He couldn’t bear to leave her or be alone with his own thoughts.

When she woke this morning, he could see the moment she remembered the events of the night before. Her eyes landed on him and he saw a moment of alarm, surprise, confusion, and then finally realization. He stood on shaky legs as her eyes filled with tears. They only lasted a moment, however. He watched as a firm resolve took over her gaze, her movements choppy and stilted as she swiped away the evidence of her anguish.

He grudgingly admired her for that and stood before her helpless to do anything useful. What were they to do? Neither of them was prepared for this. They were young, happy, carefree. They’d never dealt with death before and all the myriad details involved with it.

Who would have guessed the Committee for Privileges would get involved? And demand a front row seat to an event that should be a private moment for Emma. If indeed she was with child. Which he was not going to ask her.

“We must inform Alice,” she said.

“Of course,” he murmured. Why he hadn’t thought of that, he’d never know. Their mother would be equally devastated.

“I’ll write the note.” 

Killian could only nod, wondering what he was supposed to do. The answer became apparent when Lord Isaac arrived. But he couldn’t think about that now, all that he stood to gain since Liam was gone. There was nothing good about Liam being gone. And if anyone dared to offer him congratulations…

His tears spent, Killian lifted his head and stared sightlessly out the window. He hadn’t wanted this. Had he?

He only wanted Emma. But not like this. Not at this cost.

He’d never coveted Liam’s title. The money or power.

He’d only ever coveted Liam’s wife.

And now he stood to gain everything that had been Liam’s. Except his wife. Guilt wrapped itself around his heart and threatened to strangle him. 

He didn’t want this. He’d never wanted this.

“Killian?” Her soft knock and voice drew his attention to the door. The locked door. He rose and moved toward it, making no effort to hide his grief. He unlocked and opened the door and she stood there, as thin but strong as a young birch tree, her face pale, her green eyes round as saucers and beyond exhausted.

“I’ve sent a note to your mother,” she murmured. “Is there anyone else…”

Killian shook his head slowly. He knew he should say something to her, but his mind just refused to give him anything. He was too broken, too grief stricken. Just like the woman in front of him.

He gently took her elbow. “You should sit down. You look exhausted.”

Emma shook her head, even as she allowed him to lead her into the room and toward a chair. 

“I can’t,” she murmured. “I can’t stop. If I do…” She shook her head. “If I don’t stop, I don’t have to think. And if I don’t have to think…” she trailed away and her eyes filled with tears again. It didn’t matter. He understood perfectly.

Then she turned her eyes upon him and her mouth opened like she had something to say. He steeled himself against the despair in her eyes.

“I’m pregnant.”

~*~*~

Seemingly overnight, Kilmartin House in London changed. 

First, Alice Jones arrived from Scotland. 

Second, Emma’s own mother, Ruth Nolan was a much more frequent guest than she’d been when Liam was alive. 

Third, Killian was a much less frequent guest than when Liam was alive. 

And Emma wasn’t sure she’d survive that last one.

Of course, it was a comfort to see her mother-in-law. They got along well and Emma loved her. And she’d known the grief of losing her husband. But now she’d lost her son, and in many ways was in as much need of comfort as Emma herself.

And of course her own mother was also a comforting presence, having also been widowed young, but Killian was the one she needed. Killian was the one who knew and loved Liam best, besides herself of course, and Killian was the one who most understood what she was going through.

He still came to visit occasionally, but when he did, he didn’t feel there. Not like he was when Liam was alive. His eyes were distant and he didn’t come anywhere near her, beyond what propriety demanded when greeting her or taking his leave - a formal bow, a slight brush of her knuckles with his lips, murmured words she could barely hear. He wasn’t the same.

And it was killing her.

But, she reminded herself, he was hurting, too. 

She reminded herself of it when she didn’t know what to say to him. She reminded herself of it when he didn’t tease her. She reminded herself of it when they sat together in the parlor and neither had anything to say.

She’d lost her husband. And she’d lost her best friend at the same time.

She was lonely. And so sad. Why had no one told her how sad she’d be? But would she have believed them? Of course not. There was no understanding this kind of grief without experiencing it for herself. 

Killian was the one link to the husband she’d lost - who’d loved him as she did - and she hated him for being here, but not being here. To walk beside her in their mutual grief. So they could be a comfort to each other.

It never occurred to her that in losing Liam, she might lose Killian, too.

“How are you feeling, dear?” Alice’s gentle question drew Emma from her musings. She blinked, momentarily unable to really comprehend the question, much less answer it.

“Uh, fine,” she said after a moment, with a slight shake of her head. The soft smile on the face of her mother-in-law, coupled with the joyful sadness in her eyes, prompted a small smile from herself as well. It brought home the fact that while Alice had lost her first born, the fact that Emma was carrying a piece of him brought a measure of peace to her grieving heart. “No different than I ever have.”

Alice sat down across from her and folded her hands in her lap. “It’s remarkable. I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“If it wasn’t for my missing courses, I’d never know anything was different.” And it was true. She’d been around enough pregnant women to know what to expect in the early weeks and months, and the only thing she was experiencing that might be a symptom of early pregnancy was that she was a bit more tired. But, of course, that could be the grieving as well. Her mother had told her she’d been tired for a year after her father passed. Emma experienced none of the expected quirks and illnesses other women had told her about.

She’d be happy to be losing what little breakfast she was actually eating each morning, if only so she could imagine the little one waving, hello, I’m here!

“I wonder if Killian will be visiting today?” Alice mused.

“He hasn’t been here in three days,” Emma murmured, “So I expect he will.” She’d never admit to counting the days between his visits, but she had been, and he was due for his bi-weekly visit.

“He’s grieving Liam,” Alice said softly.

“So am I.” Her voice was a bit sharper than she’d have liked. “So are you.”

“But it’s different for him,” she continued. “He’s a bit in limbo until you deliver. And that’s still six months away.”

“Well, I can’t do anything about that.”

“Of course not,” she replied. “I just hope that he begins thinking about the future soon. If you do deliver a girl, he’ll have to marry and produce an heir.”

Emma scoffed. “Killian will do what has to be done, but he’d never marry while he’s still grieving Liam and it’d be dreadfully unfair to expect him to.”

“Of course,” Alice agreed. “I just so want him to be happy. Even with Liam gone.” She sighed forlornly.

It was odd. Emma wanted Killian to be happy, too, but imagining him married was rather hard to picture. Of course, it hadn’t stopped her from trying to push Killian in that direction. But if she was really honest with herself, he just didn’t seem the type. For years, she’d had Liam and Killian had been their rather constant companion. Could she be happy for him if he found love and happiness and she remained alone? Was her heart big enough?

She was tired and feeling a bit weak as well. She stood, grasping the arm of the chair when a sudden wave of dizziness came over her. 

“I think I’ll lay down for a nap,” she said. “Wake me when Killian comes, if you please.”

“Of course, my dear. That’s a very good idea. You need your rest.” A sudden gasp escaped Alice and Emma saw that she wasn’t looking at her, but at the seat she just rose from. 

There in the middle of the cushion was a small patch of red.

Blood.

~*~*~

Killian stared at the almost full bottle of rum sitting on his desk. His life would have been much more bearable if that amount of alcohol was enough to get him drunk. But unfortunately, Killian was blessed with quite a robust constitution and could hold his liquor with aplomb and grace. 

He glanced outside the window to see it was still some hours from sunset. Also unfortunately, he couldn’t make himself override the good manners and etiquette Alice had instilled in him from the time he was a small boy that refused to let him get bosky before the sun set. 

He tapped his fingers against the desk and wondered what he ought to do with himself. Liam had been gone for nearly two months now, and he hadn’t yet brought himself to move into Kilmartin House, still living in his modest apartments a few blocks away. According to Lord Isaac, whose lectures he was eventually forced to endure, the title would go into abeyance until Emma delivered. And if she gave birth to a girl, then the title and everything with it would be his. But given that that event was still six months away, Killian felt he could get away with not taking up residence in the earl’s house. He told himself he didn’t want to move in only to have to move out again in six months.

But the truth was something else entirely. He wasn’t sure he could survive living under the same roof as Emma. 

She was still living in the house. She was still the Countess of Kilmartin. And would be until she gave birth to a girl and he married. Which he was absolutely not inclined to do.

Because even if he did end up as the earl, Emma wouldn’t be his countess, and that knowledge was enough to make him seriously think about damning etiquette to hell and downing that entire bottle of rum between now and sunset.

He would have thought his grief would have overtaken the longing in his heart for Emma, that he could be near her and not want her so much he could barely breathe. But no. His heart still ached with the pain of loving her. Even being in the same room with her caused his breath to hitch and his heart to race. 

And now, all that longing was intertwined with a suffocating guilt. As if there hadn’t been enough of that when Liam was alive. 

Emma was in pain. Grieving. And he should be there comforting her. Who could better do so? No one had known Liam better than he did. The two people who knew and loved him best should be comforting one another in their loss. But no, instead of comforting her, he was lusting after her. What kind of bastard lusted after his sister-in-law, his pregnant sister-in-law, when his brother wasn’t even cold in his grave?

Him, apparently. 

And so he stayed away. Not completely. He couldn’t get away with that, not with his mother in residence at Kilmartin House. In addition, although the title wasn’t potentially to be his for another six months, everyone was looking to him to manage the affairs of the earl. 

It was the least he could do. For Liam. For Emma.

He may not be able to be her friend at the moment, but he could make sure her finances were in order.

She didn’t understand. And he knew she didn’t. She’d often come to visit him when he was working in the study of Kilmartin House - going over various solicitor’s and land steward’s reports - looking for their previous camaraderie, he knew, but which he was unable to give. Not yet.

“My lord?”

Killian looked up at the door to see his valet, Smee, and a footman wearing the unmistakable green and gold livery of Kilmartin house.

“A message from your mother,” the man said, approaching with an envelope in his outstretched hand. “She said it was urgent.”

His brows rose on his head. Urgent? That was new. His mother had sent him nearly daily missives, or it seemed like it anyway, but they were never more than just prattling on about the doings at Kilmartin House. She was likely just trying to keep herself busy.

Once Smee and the footman left the room, he opened the letter.

Come quickly, it said. Emma has lost the baby.

~*~*~

Killian himself was nearly killed several times, not to mention the numerous pedestrians who were in his way, as he raced on horseback to Kilmartin House.

But now he stood here in the foyer, holding his crying mother, and he didn’t know what to do with himself.

A miscarriage they called it. It seemed like such a small word for such a profound happening. And why had they called him? This was the province of women and doctors. Of which, he was neither. What could he possibly do?

But then it hit him. He was the earl.

Slowly but surely over the last two months, Killian had been stepping into Liam’s shoes. And now that process was complete. The final nail in the coffin, so to speak. 

It took nary a thought to murmur comforting nonsense to his mother as he led her to the downstairs parlor, her sobs abating. 

“It’s like losing Liam all over again,” she whispered.

“I know,” he agreed. And he did. While Emma had been pregnant, a small piece of Liam still existed on this earth. And while he wasn’t yet prepared to step fully into Liam’s shoes, by the time she delivered, he would have been, and he would have done everything duty demanded. For Liam, his child, for Emma.

But he wasn’t ready. He couldn’t. Not yet.

That last fragile link to Liam was snapped and he was right back where he was two months ago.

“How is she?” he asked.

“In shock,” she answered quietly. “She’s been crying. She can’t seem to stop. She asked for you.”

Killian’s head snapped toward his mother.

“Me? Why?”

Alice’s face was surprised. “She wanted you.”

“But… I can’t…” he stammered.

“Yes, you can.” His mother looked confused at his refusal. “You have to,” she insisted.

Killian shook his head vehemently, his hands starting to tremble. “I can’t go in there.”

“You can’t abandon her!”

“I’m not! I didn’t!” he cried, the grief breaking free. “Liam abandoned her! Liam abandoned me!” he shouted. His voice shocked him. He sounded like a wounded animal - pained, panicked, confused. Tears pricked the corner of his eyes. “She was never mine to abandon!”

“Killian George Alaster Jones!” his mother cried, shocked. “How can you say such a thing?”

“Mother,” he all but moaned. “She needs a woman. What can I do?”

“You can be her friend,” she said softly.

“No. I can’t. Not yet.” The anguish on his mother’s face was real and he knew his was the same. In a move of utter and pathetic cowardice, he rose and ran from the room. 

~*~*~

If there truly were nine circles of Hell, then in the month since he’d taken on his duties, Killian surely must have taken up residence in one of the lower levels of Hell on earth. With every new ceremony, each document he signed as Kilmartin, and every “my lord” he was forced to endure, it was as if Liam's spirit was being pushed further and further away.

Everything that had been Liam’s was now his. 

Except Emma.

And Killian was determined to keep it that way. He would not bring that last insult to bear against his brother’s memory. He’d seen her, of course. And offered his best words of comfort. Which were, truthfully, woefully inadequate. And both he and Emma knew it. 

He’d been more relieved that she was physically unharmed than upset over the loss of the child. But he couldn’t very well say that.

Their mothers, for some reason, felt compelled to describe the event in gruesome detail, a chamber maid trotting out the bloodied sheets as proof that Lady Kilmartin had indeed lost the baby. Lord Isaac had nodded in approval when presented with the evidence, but had then added that Lady Kilmartin would still need to be observed closely for the next few months to be sure she was not increasing. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had tried to circumvent the sacred laws of primogeniture, he’d asserted.

The rage inside Killian at that statement nearly propelled him to pick up Lord Isaac bodily and throw him out the window, but he managed to control himself by the most tenuous of grips.

He still hadn’t moved into Kilmartin House. He knew it was expected, but the circumstances at the house hadn’t changed, and Killian still couldn’t bring himself to live in the same house as the woman he loved.

Who now stood at the threshold of his study. She looked thin and pale, but her green eyes flashed.

“Emma?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”

He was shocked. He couldn’t deny it. She’d never been here. Not when Liam was alive. And certainly not after.

“I wanted to see you.” The rest of her statement, her accusation really, went unspoken. You’ve been avoiding me.

Was this improper? He hadn’t a clue. Their relationship now was so different and ambiguous, he couldn’t guess what rules of etiquette applied. He motioned to a seat and she took it, her fingers twisting in her lap. 

She finally looked at him, her gaze intense, grief and anger swirling in their depths.

“I’ve missed you.” Make that an even lower level of hell.

“Emma…” he tried.

“You are… were… my friend,” she said, angrily, swiping at the tear that tracked down her face. “Besides Liam, you were my closest friend!”

Emma, I…” he tried again. He was a fool. And a coward. And he didn’t know what to say to her.

“Where have you been?” 

“I…” He was speechless. Brought down by an angry and grief-stricken face, and a mountain of guilt. Although guilt for exactly what, he couldn’t pinpoint any longer. It came from too many sources to make sense of anymore.

“I needed you.” The plaintive need in her voice nearly undid him. “You knew him best. You loved him the most, besides me. Why didn’t you come and help me?”

Killian looked down at his desk. He couldn’t lie to her. But he couldn’t tell her the truth either.

“I don’t know,” he settled upon instead. She was quiet and Killian couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes.

“That’s it then,” she whispered. 

“I guess so,” he replied sadly. The sadness threatened to consume him. In the eyes of the ton, he may have gained much, but in reality, he’d lost everything. And the one person who needed him the most… he couldn’t be what she needed. He couldn’t stand to be near her. Because the grief and the anger and the love and the guilt were a never ending flood, and he was drowning.

The ticking clock on the mantle was the only accompaniment to her swirling thoughts. She looked at Killian and took in his tense shoulders, his rigid bearing, the unbridled grief on his countenance mirroring hers. 

“I’m sorry, Emma,” he finally said, taking a tentative step toward her. Then another. Then another. Then he was kneeling before her, his hand on her knee. “I’m so, so sorry, Emma.”

“Why did this happen?” she cried. “I don’t understand!” The tears poured from her eyes and Killian gathered her into his arms. “It isn’t fair!” She clutched at his jacket, holding on for dear life as all the grief, all the anger, all the confusion that she thought she’d already released burst forth from her all over again.

“It isn’t fair that it happened to me!” she lamented. “It isn’t fair that this happens to anyone! Oh, what am I to do?”

“I don’t know.” She could just hear him murmuring into her hair and placing a gentle kiss on the top of her head. And the comfort she felt from him holding her was almost more than she could bear. For the first time in months, she felt safe and warm. And not alone.

Her tears finally spent, she pulled back from him. 

“Will you come back? To Kilmartin House?” she asked, her voice shaky. “Will you stop ignoring me? I still need you.”

She could see the tears in his own eyes, grief and something else she couldn’t identify, as she waited for him to speak.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t know what to say to you. Didn’t know what I could do, so I stayed away.”

“I know,” she said quietly, looking down at her lap. She still clutched at him, unable to let him go, or the warmth and safety he gave. “I knew that’s why you were staying away, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.”

“I know. And I’m sorry.” He released her and stood, even as her arms reached for him again. “I’ll take up my residence in Kilmartin House.”

He could deny her nothing. And living under the same roof couldn’t possibly be any worse than what he’d already had to endure. And if it was, and it did actually kill him, then so be it.

“Thank you. That will… that will be a great comfort to me. And your mother as well.” She paused for a moment and rose. “You know, you were to be his father, in a way.”

Killian felt the blood drain from his face and his heart stop. 

“What did you say?” The words were soft, weak, he could barely catch his breath to get them out.

“The baby,” she replied, turning toward him. “In the absence of his father, you’d have been the closest thing he had. And even with him gone, having you here will help me let him go. Let them both go.”

But Killian didn’t hear those last words. His heart started beating again at a gallop and the blood rushed in his ears. All he could grasp from her statement was that he would have been a father to the baby, and that knowledge destroyed him. 

The title, the lands, the money, the power, the responsibility were all his now. The only things that weren’t were Liam’s wife and child. And now Emma was telling him that wasn’t true either.

He grabbed Emma by the arms. He was shaking, and she looked frightened but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t let her go.

“No!” he cried. “I can’t! I won’t! I’m not Liam!”

“Of course you’re not,” Emma cried out, thoroughly alarmed at the sudden change that had come over Killian. She’d never seen him like this. His eyes were glazed and unseeing, his grip on her arms painful, but her words to try and reach him, to get him to release her, fell on deaf ears. He looked wild, crazed, like a cornered animal that would either make a last desperate attack to try and save itself, or fall over and wait for the final killing blow.

“You can’t ask this of me,” he breathed, the strength and energy that fueled him, completely disappearing. He still held her tightly, but his eyes were finally seeing her and not some vision playing out in his mind. “I can’t do it.”

“Killian, you’re hurting me,” she whispered. “Please let me go.” He released her suddenly, the recrimination in his eyes and the restored blood flow in her arms bringing tears to her eyes.

“I’d… I’d better go,” she said, pulling away from him. She looked at him for a moment more, trying to make sense out of what just happened. She’d never seen Killian like that before and it frightened her. She wasn’t afraid of him, though. Even after that, she knew with utter surety that he would never harm her and would protect her to his last breath.

“Perhaps… perhaps it would be better if you remained here instead of Kilmartin House.”

“Y- yes,” he stammered, nodding with a jerky motion. “I think that would be best.” 

Not only had she lost Liam, and her child, but it was now clear she’d lost Killian as well. And she didn’t quite know what she would do about that.

~*~*~

Once Emma was gone, Killian sat back down behind his desk and poured himself a tall drink.

He’d made a promise to her and broken it almost in the same breath. He’d spent the last month fulfilling the duties of the earl and then Emma’s words made him realize something.

She truly had no inkling of his feelings for her, and as long as that was the case, as long as she didn’t understand how much he hated himself for every step he took in Liam’s shoes, he couldn’t be near her. 

And that brought him to a decision. Rarely in life had his path been this clear. He slammed back the rum and rose from his desk. When he arrived at his bedchamber, he found his valet carefully folding a cravat.

“Smee,” he asked. “What do you think of India?”

~*~*~

Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to know what you thought! Next ch will be up on Saturday!

[devastatinglygreen]

I always appreciate how much you put in your responses so thank you 😊

Honestly I’m glad Colin got to vocalize how much the LW comment at the beginning of the season hurt. He deserved that and the anger he felt. Despite the fact the segments of the audience don’t want to acknowledge it, Colin was completely justified in the entrapment comment given that she did not tell him the truth. Pen did not tell him during the myriad of times it was open for her to do so (AU…Colin: I thought LW would be cleverer Pen: You’re absolutely fucking right she is) and it’s that fact that she continued actively hiding it from the man she loves that makes me side with him on the entrapment line every time. I just wish Pen was allowed that same space to vocalize why she chose to keep it from him so long after the fact. But again Pen’s LW sins take precedence and thus she’s rarely allowed to speak up for herself in the moment.

Pen had much less excuse to accuse Colin of being out and up to things the night before the wedding as if this man hasn’t forgotten other women exist in the world after she accepted him. But I did enjoy that little bit of petty from her. More bratty!Pen and softdom!Colin omg who said that?? 👀

you're sweet!

i get both, tbh. i get why he said it and i get why pen didn't tell him. if you take her own guilt eating away at her, knowing how badly he (suddenly and not at all for plot reasons) dislikes LW, the conflicting advice from her mom, eloise, and genevieve, and losing eloise completely when she figured out pen was LW i could imagine she was apprehensive at best.

add in the love bomb honeymoon period and seeing colin, the man she loves, so insanely happy? i wouldn't want to disappoint him either.

but you're right, she should have been able to tell him why she didn't instead of the push back about being useful or whatever every time he asked her about it. it felt like the ghost of eloise came out of penelope's mouth every time she was given any room to talk to him about LW and that felt less like pen and more like what they thought the audience wanted to hear. colin should not have been able to tell cressida a more impassioned response to what LW was to pen than pen to colin.

the show leaned too hard in on LW being this heinous, hurtful thing and it's gossip ffs. it wasn't anything aside from what? 2 very specific instances that the ton wasn't talking about anyway, with an added embarrassing secret for pen where she still kept colin's name mostly clean and took the harder fall. it felt like an audience hand holding moment tbh to me and added drama because the polin relationship is fairly drama free in book canon. if the queen calls you out as the bridgerton guard dog, you're not exactly attacking them and doing the things the chronically online portion of the pen hating audience has accused you of for 4 years. but i digress.

ohhh yeah i enjoyed that petty fight. they both needed to get that out of their systems fr, she said excuse me sir whomst do you think you are out here late at night????

[cvldbones]

where the light comes through (chapter 1/?)

So, because Viscount Anthony Bridgerton does not have much else to do with his time, he decides that he simply must figure out Miss Kate Sharma. or: the Bridgerton children cannot seem to keep a governess at bay, until one Miss Kate Sharma enters the picture

He has not even had time to learn this one’s name.

She has been here one week – no, perhaps it has been two – when Anthony sees her huffing, dragging a half-packed trunk down the hallway, muttering under her breath. Her auburn hair, usually pinned in a severe bun, has several tendrils loose, falling along her face in a disheveled manner, and Anthony might find the scene funny if he did not know exactly what it meant.

Cursing, he rises from his seat behind the desk, fumbling out of the open door. “Miss – ” he calls, wincing as he realizes he has not even had time to learn her name.

“Edgewood,” the governess snaps, helpfully. She stalls just before the front door, as one of the ladies’ maids and the footman both gawk at the scene with wide, nervous eyes. Anthony offers the agitated woman his most charming smile, folding his hands behind his back to disguise the complete panic coursing through him.

“Miss Edgewood. Where – where, may I ask, are you going? Are you interested in a trip to the modiste, or – ”

“No, Lord Bridgerton, I am not interested in the modiste. I am interested in having you fetch a carriage, and a driver, and my week’s wages, for I quit!”

For a woman of such short stature, her voice reaches quite impressive volumes, he must admit. But Miss Edgewood is looking at Anthony as if she wishes she could murder him with one glance, as if she hates the mere fact that he is standing in front of her, and he swallows thickly. “I see,” he says, stupidly, and clears his throat to buy himself time.

He knows, of course, what she is thinking. She is not the first to pass through these doors in the last four years. She will, he is certain, not be the last. And she is older than him; she may lack his power, his title, his authority, his money, but she has this. She has the years that he never will.

The years his father did.

At one point, at least.

Read Chapter 1 on AO3!