#rake Eloise

[im-nora-ephron-bitch]

Said I was going into a little bit of retirement, but just like the mob Creloise sucked me back in…just for a little one-shot to see accidental rake Eloise be a dummy in the hospital that Cressida works at!

Takes place in the same universe as “scared to let go what i’m scared to lose”

Let me know what you think!

[eloiscbridgerton]

OLIVIA COOKE as BECKY SHARP CLAUDIA JESSIE as AMELIA SEDLEY

Vanity Fair (2018)

[thirdwifeofriversong]

I can’t wait to see Francesca and Michaela’s story, but while we’re waiting? I can’t wait to see Michaela queer mentor Eloise and show her that lesbianism exists.

[fromtheblocksblog]

We need to bring back the term Rake.

Whore, slut, promiscuous… it just doesn’t hit it’s not specific enough to men.

[suspendingtime]

"It's an incredibly big show, and it can feel quite daunting sometimes. But when you're on set filming, it's actually the most relaxing part. So, yeah I don't take it for granted. It's really, it's really important." - Simone Ashley

BRIDGERTON 2.01 'Capital R Rake' | BTS 'At Home and on Set With the Bridgertons' | 1/3

[dollypopup]

"Colin had no trauma related to love and self worth like Anthony. Anthony watched his father die, watched his mum turn into a ghost of a person, and didn't want that for his wife"

Bestie. . .they have. . .the same dad???? They have the same mum???? Literally all of the Bridgerton children except Hyacinth watched Edmund die? They all experienced Violet's immense sorrow? He and Violet obviously have a very close connection and so of course he saw her wilting (plant pun, if you were wondering) or at least knew about it and has responded with being particularly gentle with her?

Trauma shaped all the Bridgertons. Colin was a young boy when his dad passed and everyone in the family experienced an immense grief and, unlike his brothers, Colin was twelve, he wasn't the heir, he wasn't the spare, and had no responsibility but to go to school (sent off elsewhere after his dad passed away, thus disconnected from his circle of support and family) and figure out how to be a man from strangers and rakes. Literally no one had space for his grief and sensitivity? He even cries alone in his bedroom in Season 1 and stops talking about his travels after he gets made fun of in Season 2 and claims that hardly anyone replied to his letters in Season 3 like what do you mean he has no trauma related to love?

Colin was right there on the steps watching his father cradled in his mother's arms as she wept over his sudden passing. Of course he has trauma related to love? Colin's entire arc was about how he only felt he could be cared about if he was pleasing the people around him or being useful in some way and putting on a mask and a persona so he wouldn't be hurt by how much no one else wanted the real, messy, authentic him around? His mum and dad lived a love story and Colin watched it fall to pieces just as all the Bridgertons did, he just internalized it differently. His entire family was grieving so he decided to be useful by offering levity where he could, especially as the brother raised predominately with his sisters, Eloise and Daphne.

And yet despite the fact that this was such a huge tragedy of his childhood, Colin still is incredibly emotionally available and as soon as he realized what he felt for Penelope was romantic, he takes initiative and he cuts into her dance with Debling and he chases after her carriage so he can confess that he can't stop thinking about her and he's not at all angry at her, she doesn't vex him, it isn't frustration at her- it's torture because he is so damn besotted with her that he dreams of her and the kiss they shared haunts him but it's torture he embraces because he's a romantic soul who is incredibly emotionally brave and he cares about Penelope more than he cares about his ego or image or past hurts.

Give my man his flowers.

[beca-mitchell]

Eloise "rake!" Bridgerton was out here making all the women of the ton laugh

but the only one who made her laugh was Cressida Cowper

[shinysobi]

"it was awkward to see colin flirt and behave like a rake" "he gave me the ick" yes ! that is the fucking point!! congratulations! you have the media literacy skills of a fucking monkey because my 4-year old niece could understand it better than you do.

we are supposed to find colin cringey and annoying and get the ick because that is not who he is. he is not anthony, or simon, or even benedict. colin (apart from gregory) is the sweetest of all bridgerton brothers (i'm going by book canon) and his most identifiable character trait is the fact that he values an emotional connection above everything. he runs away to the continent because he wants to feel that emotional connection. he has meaningless sex in brothels because that is the example he has seen growing up, that is the norm. he tries so hard to fit into the norm. he goes out drinking, adopts an entirely new personality, learns flirtations because that is how he thinks he will fit in. he's got armour on, as violet said. he puts everyone's needs above his own, he stops rambling on and boring his family with details of his trip because he knows no one cares. he doesn't talk to anthony or benedict about his heartaches because he knows they still, somewhere in their heart of hearts, view him as the annoying younger brother. he's so devastated by his closest friend not responding to him that he adopts a new personality in the hopes that it might mask the hurt better. he runs after penelope in episode one because he is so attuned to her emotions that he knows she's hurting, and tries to comfort her even when she's spiraling and lashes out. he must have been hurt by her words in the "good night mr bridgerton" scene but he puts it aside to genuinely apologise to her when literally no one else in that family would do that. colin, instead of brooding over his own feelings, goes and corners penelope in her family's garden and apologises to her, disregarding his own hurt at being cruelly dismissed by his close friend.

penelope asking colin to kiss her is not a mark of how "pathetic" she is. she has written and shamed herself in a manner that is almost entirely unsalvageable. she is at her lowest point, and then portia comes in and reminds her of how undesirable she is, and she sinks even lower. she asks colin to kiss her because she sees it as a final act, after which she can quietly wave goodbye to her dreams of ever getting married and leaving her mother's home. colin kisses her because he is also keenly aware of how she's feeling. he knows how hurt she is, he wants to do anything to alleviate that. be it cracking a joke, or kissing her. he is gentle, because he wants it to be something she can dream of when she's by herself. penelope, at this moment, has no hope for herself, and their kiss is an act of letting go for her. no, it's not a pity kiss, no he did not like her after her glow up, he has always loved her. him being struck dumb is a reaction to her physical transformation, nothing more. he does not flirt with her in that ballroom scene, he only approaches her when she's in distress. he's not flirting with her. i can assure you penelope could wear the frumpiest most neon yellow gown of all time and colin would still go "<333 my pen" for her.

colin jumps to catch the balloon's ropes because he sees that penelope is in danger, he does not give a shit about anyone else lmao. he feels temporary relief when he sees eloise run to safety, but the moment he sees penelope in immediate danger, he rushes to take action. afterwards, when he sees that she's being comforted by debling (all my homies hate debling, even if he is aro/ace coded i do NOT claim him) he does not approach her. it would be easy for him to do so, but he does not, because he respects her boundaries. colin bridgerton is the only man in the ton who respects women (the featherington sons-in-laws are too pretty to have a thought) he calls out fife and his friends for treating women like objects and calls them cavalier. the only way he would have been more explicit about his demisexuality was if he tap danced on the club table (entertaining thought, luke newton please)

colin also rapidly takes action, something which no one in the show has done so far. simon would have died instead of accepting his feelings for daphne, daphne would have been content with a loveless marriage forever instead of asking for help. kate would have pushed edwina down the aisle and gone off to india instead of confronting her own feelings, and anthony would have married edwina if she hadn't been brave enough for the three of them to run from the altar and ruin herself. penelope stood on the sidelines for years and loved him quietly because she had no hope of him loving her back. colin, the moment he is assured of his feelings, runs to penelope, almost kisses her in the middle of a ballroom. when he hears that debling is about to propose, he goes to the ball, just to dissuade penelope one more time. he cuts into their dance because he's desperate. when he runs after her carriage, he asks her if she has been proposed to, because he would not have touched her otherwise. he confesses his feelings to her only when he knows that she hasn't gotten engaged to debling, and when she says "but we are friends" he moves away. nothing more. he would have let her go, if she did not return his feelings.

idk whether i should be flattered or offended at people misunderstanding this season because on one hand it is offensive, but on the other hand, it means only smart people get polin. seriously. your minds have been rotted by insta-love and enemies to lovers that you can't even appreciate the innate beauty of friends to lovers. being friends with someone and then holding all those feelings for them. the trepidation of possible rejection. the fulfillment of being loved by the person who knows you the best of them all. the privilege of loving someone whose feelings you know better than your own. love is gentle and kind and yes it is a violent, uprooting force but above all, love does not hurt anyone. it does not hurt you. i could love someone quietly for years and it wouldn't bother me if their feelings were requited or not because my feelings are none of their business and i consider it a privilege to love and be loved by them, even if it is not in the way i would want it to be. polin are privileged in the highest sense. they know each other better than anyone else, they know how to love each other better than anyone else. to think they are rushed or they dont deserve each other is a disservice to both of them. they would be miserable with anyone else.

in other matters, if i see one more person talking smack about luke or nicola behind the safety of their screens i will personally get a bazooka.

[dailyeloise]

ELOISE BRIDGERTON 2.01 | Capital R Rake

[eloiscbridgerton]

random eloise bridgerton: 13/?

[the-other-art-blog]

Why Benophie season is the perfect way to finish the first half of the Bton stories?

Now that Benophie season is unofficially confirmed, I've come to the conclusion that this was the greatest way to end the first half of Bton. It needed to be s4.

In the ton, marriage is about status. And while all Bton marriages are love matches, they are also incredibly beneficial for their position in society. The ENTIRE family's position in society.

Anthony is a viscount, an influential one, but in the nobility hierarchy, he's second to last.

Daphne climbed up 3 steps when she married Simon and became a Duchess.

Francesca will climb one step when she marries John.

Kate didn't have a title or wealth, but a married Viscount is an improvement over a rake Viscount.

Colin is only a Mr., but I will be surprised if the Featherington baby race doesn't end with Pen having a boy who will become Baron. He's going to be the father of a Lord thanks to Penelope.

So you can see how these marriages are extremely beneficial to them and elevate the entire family. Daphne understood this when she said that her marriage would set the prospects for her sisters. Anthony also knew that his choice of viscountess would affect the family.

So, by the time Benedict meets Sophie, the family will have a viscounty + relations with a duchy, an earldom, and a barony. They just need a march to have the full set.

Enter Benedict who will fall in love with a servant AND an illegitimate daughter.

If he marries her, he risks undoing all the work his siblings have done to maintain the family in good standing.

The book doesn't address this, but I wish the show would. It would add another dimension to Benedict's reasons to not marry Sophie. He would be thinking of the family. What would happen to Eloise, Hyacinth, and Gregory? They will no longer be siblings to nobles, they will be related to an illegitimate child and servant. Who will want to marry them? Is it fair to affect their prospects when they haven't even had a chance at society? (Read The Secrets of Sir Richard Kenworthy) Perhaps it hurts the already-married siblings too.

I'm thinking about Ben and Violet's scene. Sophie refuses to be a mistress and Ben has already decided to marry her. But there's still this issue lingering. Is it right to drag the whole family to get what he wants? Wouldn't that be the most selfish thing anyone could do? In the book, Violet says this,

Imagine if she adds, "and your siblings will support you too."

EDIT: The thing about this scene is that Benedict was ready to leave if the family didn't support him and Sophie.

This is also a great way to bring back the Sharmas' background. Mary was cast out for marrying a clerk, leaving Edwina in an unfavorable position. If the Queen hadn't named her the diamond, it would have been very difficult for her to get a good match. Not to mention that Mary's parents considered hated Kate and insulted her parents for being common people.

You can see why Benedict is afraid of the family's reaction. The Sheffields said that after Mary left, they couldn't show their faces in London for years. He wouldn't want to do that to his family. Sophie wouldn't want that either.

This is why it is so great to have Benophie come in s4. Not that a duchy and a viscount wouldn't have been enough, but this way is much more dramatic and LEGENDARY.

Despite the risks, the family will support Benedict AND Sophie. They'll support her too cause they know her and they love her even before they knew about Ben's feelings.

It's a test, not only for Benedict but for the family.

MORE EDITS:

I also think that Queen Charlotte will hate the Bridgertons after s3. She has been trying to arrange their marriages for 3 seasons, and they have all ignored her and made their matches independently. So, maybe Benedict will be worried because his marriage to Sophie will only worsen the situation.

[atlabeth]

(not so) simple pt3 - anthony bridgerton

masterlist

summary: coercing lord bridgerton into pretending to court you to avoid the affections of a baron is very simple — that is, until it isn’t.

a/n: so first of all let me apologize for how long it took for this to come out. literally nine months. a whole baby has passed. i lost my bridgerton inspo HARD but like i always want anthony bridgerton even if it's deep within me and that just came through today as i finally pushed through and finished it. hopefully you guys still care about this series because i sure do and the end is in sight, like i literally have most of it written i just have to do the in between parts and connect it all and this horrible wonderful terrible amazing mini series that has killed me will be done. anyways here she is and i hope you enjoy!!

wc: 9.7k

warning(s): historical inaccuracies, fluff, angst, a lil bit of violence/injuries, a cliffhanger that will make you want to kill me. yn is going kind of crazy because she's never felt pleasant emotions before

The next month was akin to a blur. With each day your mother grew more and more excited about your courtship with Anthony, so much so she’d even begun knitting a blanket as a wedding gift to the Bridgertons. 

(When she’d first told you about it over dinner, you’d nearly choked. You were beginning to dread telling her the truth more than you dreaded your fake courtship). 

That, perhaps, was beginning to become a lie. Dread was not the proper word for how you felt about your courtship. 

It was still strange, knowing that everyone around you believed you and Anthony were to be married. Though your secret was still one well-kept, you could hardly contain yourself whenever you overheard snide remarks with you at the center—it seemed they had still not gotten over the fact that their precious opportunity at becoming a Bridgerton had been stolen by you. Perhaps their daughters would get their chance in the next season, once you and Anthony had broken things off. 

But that was not enough to hold his image in the same sour view as before.

Anthony was irritating as ever, yes, and but he was no longer the mere rake, the sarcastic older brother who firmly believed you were running out of time, the womanizer Lady Whistledown painted him as. 

At least, you did not see him as such. He certainly did not act that way around you anymore. 

Anthony Bridgerton was lighter around you—he smiled more, laughed more, joked around with you in a way that Benedict told you he hadn’t seen in years. And of course, he was only able to tell you that because Anthony brought you along on outings with his family. 

The Worthings had always been friendly throughout the years with the Bridgertons, especially because of your closeness with Eloise and, more so when you were younger and before her debut, Daphne. You were fond of the rest of the family as well, Benedict and Colin looking on you fondly as that of an annoying younger sister much like Eloise—you were happy to fill the role. Francesca was pleasant when she wasn’t off traveling, and Gregory and Hyacinth were always a delight. Hyacinth seemed more attached to you because of the courtship, and truly looked forward to welcoming you as a sister. 

Anthony had always been the older brother that foiled your fun with Eloise, that urged you to take your role more seriously if for no other reason than to influence Eloise down the path as well. 

Now you felt closer than ever to him, and though it was merely for your ruse, you couldn’t help but enjoy it. 

Stranger yet, though, was how your image of Anthony had changed since that first dance the night you agreed to this ruse. When at first you could only stand his company because of the promise of continuous jabs and protection from suitors, you now found that you actually… enjoyed being around him. You recalled the night out in the Bridgerton gardens with Anthony far more than you should have.

He certainly had no right to keep you awake at such late hours the way he did. 

You no longer despaired early wakings to promenade with him, no longer wrinkled your nose at the prospect of dancing with him. Though you still dreaded the glitz and the glamour of the ton all the same, Anthony himself did not spurn the same response. 

Of that, you did not know exactly what to think, but you supposed the absence of misery was something to celebrate. 

You and the viscount were becoming friends. You enjoyed his presence. You began to look forward to your next outing with him, time spent with him outweighing your dislike of early wakings. 

You were a frequent visitor of Bridgerton family outings because of your friendship with Eloise, and you only found yourself more involved with their picnics and promenades through Anthony. 

Invitations found their way to your doorstep far more often because of the Bridgerton name attached to yours, and you found you enjoyed them more on Anthony’s arm. 

You attended operas together in their private box. He frequently called on you, leading to conversations in your drawing room and promenades all about. You dined with them at least once a week, always sitting next to Anthony and whispering things to each other throughout. 

In addition to the time you spent with Eloise, your proximity to the Bridgertons, especially Anthony, was near constant.  

And you enjoyed every moment of it. 

Truly, there was something very wrong with you. 

But perhaps the strangest of all was your newfound fame. If there were ever any hope of keeping your ruse even the slightest bit secret, it was crushed by virtue of Lady Whistledown, who aided you with your most fantastical feat yet—you were mentioned by name in every single edition she’d published since the night you and Anthony partook in your first dance together. The ton knew you well now, far too well, and even when you were not around the viscount you were attuned to the glances and whispers of gossips. 

You found it interesting how easily you had become a source of intrigue, simply because it looked as if you were the object of Anthony’s affections—but you also found it largely annoying. You did not much like the attention. 

Running off to the country sounded better and better with every passing day. 

“I swear,” you muttered as you went through the stack of pamphlets, “news of our relationship makes up half of Whistledown’s repertoire these days. Truly, we should get a cut of her wages for providing so much material for her.” 

Anthony’s lips quirked up in a smile. The two of you were sat in your drawing room, chaperoned as usual by Julia, a stack containing each edition of Lady Whistledown during the length of the season set between the two of you. It was past the traditional hours of a caller, but the “advancement” of your “relationship” allowed Anthony leeway. He had brought with him yet another pamphlet of Lady Whistledown, which Eloise had confronted him with after getting her hands on it. 

“We do seem to be quite popular,” he agreed. “But at least that will make it easier for the news of our parting to spread.” 

“I just wish she did not make it so dramatic,” you huffed, and you picked up the most recent edition that Anthony had brought. You brought up the pitch of your voice and made your accent as haughty as possible as you read the printed words:

“The mystery that is the Viscount Bridgerton and Miss Worthing continues to unravel. The two were sighted together in a box at the newly redecorated Adelphi Theatre, admiring the opening night of Rossini’s Tancredi. I begrudgingly commend them on the taste in opera; I too, am a fan of Voltaire. One can only wonder the sort of activity they commenced in with their privacy.”

Anthony allowed himself a laugh as you shook your head and let out a sigh. “It’s ridiculous. She makes it sound as if we are engaging in the most scandalous behavior there is, when we were merely watching the opera! The only activity we commenced in was discussion.” You set the pamphlet down on the table with a huff. “It was quite intellectual discussion, if I do say so myself.” 

“Certainly,” he said with a nod, and he smiled wryly. “Are you saying you are not a fan of all this attention, though? Surely it is your dream for every member of the ton to know of you and your exploits.” 

“I am certainly not—” you began, but your attention was drawn to the doors as your mother walked inside. 

“Lord Bridgerton!” she exclaimed as a smile tugged at her lips. Though your mother looked happy, you saw through the practiced expression—she held a letter in her hands, turning it over and over as if to calm nervous energy. “How lovely to see you here.” 

“It is just as lovely to see you, Lady Worthing,” Anthony greeted, the charm flowing effortlessly through his words. “And may I just say how effervescent you look, even at this late hour?” 

Your mother smiled. “You know exactly what to say to get yourself out of trouble, don’t you?” 

“It is a virtue,” Anthony joked, and when he stood up you did as well. “I apologize if I have overstayed my welcome—I simply enjoy your daughter’s presence far too much. She is a sure credit to your family.” 

“Oh, it is of no mind,” she said, brushing her hand through the air. “I always enjoy having the Bridgertons over. You are no exception.”

“You flatter me so, Lady Worthing, but I must insist I take my leave.” He bowed to her and then turned to you, taking your hand in his and pressing a delicate kiss to the back of your palm. “I bid you a good night, my lady.”

You suppressed the flutter in your chest at his touch. Your hands were typically gloved whenever you held hands during dances or promenades, but not at this hour. His lips against your bare skin made your breath catch for a moment, even for such a slight occurrence. 

“I can escort you to the door,” you said, smiling through the uncertainty in your chest. 

Anthony nodded, a small smile on his lips as well. “I welcome your company, my lady.”

Anthony offered his arm and you took it, and you could sense the excitement from your mother even from afar.

“Do not stay out too long, you two!” she called with a grin as you strolled out the door, and you had to stifle your laugh.

“You are going to be the death of me, Miss Worthing,” Anthony murmured in your ear as you walked out, his breath tickling your skin.

“Not if you get to me first,” you countered. 

“I think the opposite is far more likely,” he said. 

“How so?” you said, feigning disbelief. “You are the one keeping me up past natural hours with your presence. You are the one dragging me with you into Whistledown infamy.”

“But you are the one who got me into this in the first place.” Anthony glanced at you. “Quite the predicament, I might say.”

“Oh, do not act as if you are not enjoying it by now,” you said. “We are friends at this point, yes?”

A small smile quirked on his lips. “I suppose so.”

Again, that warmth in your chest. If Anthony knew, he would surely understand that he was far more likely to be your undoing than the other way around.

You reached the doors, and when you opened one and peeked outside, there was a notable absence of a carriage.

“My deepest apologies Viscount Bridgerton.” You turned around to see your head maid hurrying across the floor, slightly out of breath. “There has been a miscommunication between our two estates—your carriage will arrive, but it will be delayed. It should not be too long a wait, albeit, but—” 

“It is of no worry,” Anthony interrupted, bowing his head. “I thank you for your dedication. Please, enjoy the rest of your night.”

She looked to you for confirmation and you nodded. “Thank you, Emma. You can retire for the night.”

She smiled gratefully. “I appreciate your kindness, my lady. It shall be here soon.”

You let go of Anthony’s arm as she began walking to the servant’s quarters and you pushed the door open again.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“We have time to waste,” you said, looking back at him mischievously. “Do you trust me?”

“…You make it seem as if I shouldn’t,” Anthony said.

“Oh, relax. We have some time to ourselves and a night sky above us. Surely you can indulge me once.” 

“I believe I have indulged you far more than once,” Anthony said, but he followed you anyway. He planted his hand against the door, taking the weight off of yours, and for some reason even that act made you take a deep breath. 

Thank God for the cool air, you thought hastily as you stepped outside, because your cheeks were burning for no good reason. 

“I apologize on Emma’s behalf for the delay,” you said, thankful that he was following slightly behind you. “The Worthing estate has been in a state of disarray lately. I try to help around, but my mother insists it’s not my place.”

“I already said it was a nonissue,” Anthony said, and you bit your lip as he took a step closer and put you on equal ground. You’d no idea what was wrong with you.

“And I thank you for your continued grace, but I still feel as if I must apologize anyway,” you said. “You likely know of our… monetary issues.”

His brows knit together. “Of course, but that means nothing. Of your status, I mean.” 

You smiled a bit. “To you, perhaps. But my mother is so ashamed of our lack of staff, she hardly ever has her friends over for tea anymore. We’ve never been able to afford much, but we had to let many of our staff go over the past summer.” 

“It is noticeable. You’ve no doormen, few maids and servants,” Anthony said. “But it shouldn’t matter to any true gentleman.”

“I suppose that makes you a true gentleman, doesn’t it?” you said playfully.

Anthony chuckled. “After all the years my mother has spent trying to turn me into one, she would certainly hope so.”

“That is why this is all such a problem.” You glanced at him. “Why my mother is so delighted of our courtship. She believes you will be my— our entire family’s— saving grace upon marriage.” 

“Quite the burden upon us,” he said dryly, though his words did not hold the usual humor. There was a certain solemnity about him. 

“Indeed.” You sighed. “Our ruse frees me from the hand of other men for this season, but there is still the problem of… of what awaits.” You wrapped your arms around yourself, the night chill beginning to get to you along with something else. “I am certain I will think of a plan eventually, but still I worry more each day of what I will do when it is all over.” 

Anthony didn’t say anything, and you didn’t fill the silence though you felt his gaze upon you. Suddenly, though, you felt the heaviness of fabric over your arms. 

Anthony’s jacket, you realized when you looked at him. Your lips parted, words stuck in your throat, but he didn’t give you the chance to get them out. 

“You were cold,” he shrugged, answering your question before you could ask it. “It would be unfathomably rude to force my dearest betrothed to freeze.”

“You noticed,” you said. 

“Always,” Anthony said. 

You care.

You could not help but stare at him, if not just for a moment, because— because God, the man was beautiful. There lay no use in denying it. There was a reason that, despite being the ton’s most infamous rake, he was still so desired by countless ladies. 

His eyes almost as dark as the night around you holding a kindness he didn’t share with many, his white undershirt with slightly-rolled sleeves in stark contrast to it all, the curve of his jaw and the slope of his nose and the barest coif of his chestnut hair.

He was beautiful, and he was the one thing you could not have. 

“Miss Worthing?” 

Which did not matter, because you did not want him. 

“My apologies.” You blinked and cleared your throat, Anthony breaking you out of your spell, and you gestured with your head as you continued along your way. Heat burned inside of you, all the way from the tips of your ears to the soles of your feet, and you could hardly stand it.

“You seem… distracted,” he said. 

That was one way to describe it.  

“Apologies,” you repeated with the slightest of smiles. “I’m merely… in my head, is all.” 

This was all fake. You had to remember that, even if you had to bash it into your head for it to stick. The charm practically oozed off of him, and though you’d been near immune to it when you were able to despise Anthony, it was much more difficult not to fall victim to it now that you considered each other… friends.

You are a lady, and he is a gentleman, you could picture your mother saying. It is nature’s oldest tale. There is no shame in it. 

He is my brother, and you hate him, you heard Eloise scoffing in the same vein. The thought made you smile. 

“Where are you taking me, Miss Worthing?” Anthony’s coy voice brought you out of your stupor once again, and you blinked. 

As you looked around, you realized you’d already made it there. You turned to Anthony with a smile, your hands out as you gestured at the open field of grass behind your estate. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” you asked. “I’ve brought you here to stargaze.” 

“Stargazing,” he repeated, and he laughed a bit. “I’ve never…” 

“You’ve never stargazed?” you finished, and he nodded. “It makes sense. A serious viscount such as yourself cannot be bothered with such frivolities.” 

Anthony shrugged. “If you enjoy it, I would love to try.”

“It isn’t something you try so much as you just do,” you said as you sat down on the ground. You smoothed out your skirts and then looked up at Anthony, amused by the expression on his face. 

“It’s alright, my lord,” you said. “I promise, the grass will not hurt you. My maids have worked out many a stain in my youth, so I assure you that will be alright as well.” 

“I have a carriage coming,” he said. 

“They can wait,” you said. “Can they not?” 

He hesitated for a moment, and then his lips quirked into the slightest smile as he took a seat next to you. You took his hand, ignoring the skip of your heart, and you pulled him back so you were both lying down. 

“How do you feel?” you asked. “Have you fallen ill yet?” 

“Very funny,” Anthony said wryly. “I am just fine. Your worries are much appreciated.” 

“I would never worry about the great Viscount Bridgerton,” you said haughtily. “He has everything handled at all times.” 

“Hardly,” he countered, and he let out a sigh. “Lately it seems as if I’ve got nothing handled at all.” 

You made a noncommittal noise. “Then you are quite the actor, my lord. You’re very good at looking perfect.” 

“You think I look perfect?” 

You turned your head to see Anthony looked at you, a sly smile on his lips, and though your rolled your eyes you could not hold back your amusement. 

“Yes, Viscount Bridgerton,” you said playfully. “Quite perfect.” 

“It is good to know that my betrothed no longer hates me.” Anthony allowed one of his hands to rest in the grass, and you could feel his eyes on you. 

“Oh, we are not betrothed yet,” you said offhandedly. “The way my mother acts, though, you would certainly think so.” 

“Well, then,” Anthony said, “would you further prove your devotion by showing me some of your constellations?” 

You chuckled. “Of course.” 

Your gaze turned to the sky, squinting slightly as you searched for your favorite. When you did, you made a sound of triumph and you sat up on your elbows. “There— do you see those? 

He frowned as he pushed himself up as well, and in his focus he unconsciously leaned closer to you. “I do not see anything,” Anthony said, and you laughed. 

“Right…” you shifted closer to him, and you took his hand in yours as you held it up to the sky. “There.” You traced the outline with his finger, and you glanced at him. “Do you see it now?” 

“I do, but…” Anthony’s lips twitched into a smile for a moment. “It is just… lines. A triangle with lines.” 

You laughed, full and bright. “It is, that much is true. But it is the constellation of Libra, in relation to astrology.” 

“I did not know you were educated on astrology.” 

“Oh, I am certainly not,” you said. “But it is the sign of my mother’s birth month, and it was the first constellation she taught me to find. Now, it is always the first one I seek out on nights such as these.” 

His eyebrows rose ever so slightly. “You used to stargaze with your mother?” 

You hadn’t truly realized the implications of what you’d said until his words, and you paused for a moment before you took your hand away from his and laid back down. 

“It is alright if you do not want to talk about it,” Anthony said softly. 

“It is not that,” you said, and you sighed. “It is just… that the relationship I have with my mother is a complicated one.” 

You felt Anthony’s eyes on you still, and you bit your lip. 

“I have always felt so small whenever I look to the stars,” you murmured. “I think it is part of the reason I still do it— for the perspective. To remind myself of how minuscule I am in the broad scheme of things.”

“I… think I feel the opposite, funnily enough,” Anthony said. “I do not stargaze, obviously, but I have always viewed an individual’s contribution as meaning far more than I can even imagine. Each and every person who has walked through my life has made some sort of impact— you have been, and still are, one of those.” He looked over at you with a surprisingly earnest expression. “You are certainly not minuscule. Not by any sort of margin.”

You found your cheeks heating up from his words, and you could not hold back your smile. “Why, Lord Bridgerton, that was quite a compliment. Are you sure you are feeling well?”

“I feel wonderful,” he said, his eyes still not leaving yours. You felt your cheeks heat and you had to look away. 

“I know my mother only wants what is best for me. She pushes me so because there is no other choice, and she truly believes that it will just… click for me someday.” You pulled Anthony’s jacket tighter around your arms, but it was of no aid when the chills came from within. “And I feel as if I am failing my entire family by not being able to accept it.” 

“I understand what it is like to have the weight of your bloodline on your shoulders,” Anthony said after a moment’s hesitation. “It is my job to ensure that my family stays afloat, that our finances are handled, that my siblings are provided for, that everything runs smoothly without a hitch. It is…” he huffed a small laugh. “It is overwhelming, I cannot lie. But it is my responsibility as the head of house, and so I take it on.” 

“You are saying that I should pursue a real courtship,” you said dryly. 

“That is not what I am saying,” Anthony countered with a glance at you. “You were correct when you said that I could leave at any time if I so desired. I do not, but if I wanted to, I could. I am pushed on through even the most difficult moments because of my love for my family. Everything I do is for them.” 

“I still am not following.” 

“If you want to be happy, then you must find your motivations,” Anthony finally said, “and you must follow where they lead you. No matter where that is.”

“So you are supporting my ill-advised rebellion.” You sat up, looking down at him with the beginnings of a smile. “Is that it?” 

“I thought that quite obvious the moment I agreed to this ruse,” he responded wryly. “You are a bad influence, Miss Worthing. I am a man of honor.” 

“Of course.” Your words were laced with mock austerity, and you sighed. “I just do not understand why I was born the sole daughter of a struggling family. It seems a cruel joke when there is none I despise more than marriage.” 

“We are quite similar, you know,” Anthony said offhandedly. “We both have the fate of our families on our shoulders, and we both know what we must do for our name. It should be woefully easy, but… it isn’t.” 

You shook your head. “We are not similar, my lord. Perhaps in structure, but not in much else.” 

He raised his eyebrows, silently urging you to go forward. 

“You are a man,” you said simply, “and you have everything because of it. You can have whatever life you please. It is not required of you to marry, though your mother might like it to have an heir from the first son. But I have nothing— I am nothing— without a man. The life that I so desperately want is one that I will never be able to have, not without giving up everything I hold dear.” 

You swallowed thickly in your throat, turning away from Anthony to not give him a view of your imminent tears. “I either have to marry a man I will never love or abandon my family and become a disgrace, but I do not want either. It is as Eloise has always said — I just want so desperately to fly. Unfortunately, my wings are doomed to be clipped.” 

“Miss Worthing…” Anthony started, but he trailed off just as quickly. He could not seem to find the right words to quell your worries, and it infuriated him beyond any sort of reason. He did not have a way with words like Eloise, he did not have the effortless charm of Colin nor the presence of Benedict, and he most certainly was not able to comfort others like Daphne — and yet the need to fix problems he himself was incapable of fixing washed over him so suddenly and so intensely he could hardly bear it. 

“I am truly sorry.” It took him far too long to break the silence that hung in the air, only punctured once by your sharp intake of breath in an attempt to hold back tears. “I wish there was more I could do for you. There should be more I could do for you as a viscount, but…”

Sure that you would be able to hold back any tears should they decide to pester you once more, you turned to face Anthony with what you hoped was a convincing smile. “You need not apologize, my lord. You have already done far more for me than any rational man should have in your position.” 

“One could argue it is because of you I’ve done all this,” he said. “You have a way about you that makes a rational man want nothing more than irrationality.” 

That brought a genuine smile to your face, thankfully able to avoid the tears you thought were sure to come. 

“You flatter me, Lord Bridgerton,” you said wryly. 

“Anthony,” he said, and you blinked. 

“Pardon?” 

“I believe we are far past Lord Bridgerton,” he explained with a slight smile. “What, with how many times you have bared your soul to me this season, I should think Anthony is perfectly acceptable.” 

You felt your cheeks heat up under his warm gaze as you nodded. “Then Anthony it shall be.”

Trying to recover from the embarrassingly soft moment, you cleared your throat and turned away once more. “Of course, your permission is not needed to refer to you as your name rather than a title, but I suppose it cannot hurt.” 

This time, the smile was nearly palpable in his words. “Of course, Miss Worthing.” 

You shook your head as you said your name. “If I am to call you Anthony, you shall call me by my given name as well. It is only fair.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “When has fairness ever been a concern of yours in regards to me?” 

“Anthony,” you said, though not without slight mirth, “will you do it?” 

“If it is what you desire.” Anthony then said your name, and you could not deny how your chest spurned in such a way at the sound. 

There was so much you yearned to say, so much on the tip of your tongue, nearly all of it relating to the man in front of you. How could there be so much of him on your mind, when just a mere fortnight ago you were joking with him about how much you could not stand him?

After ensuring none of your inner emotions were visible on your face, you turned back to him and offered a small smile. “It certainly is.”

But as he smiled back at you, that slight quirk of his lips that softened his features and brought out the light in his eyes that you had grown to appreciate but he did not have nearly enough…

You feared you were beginning to desire much more. 

You looked at the sky above, and the stars twinkling back at you suddenly made you remember as you turned back to Anthony. 

“We should get back,” you said. “It would be woefully inappropriate for a man of honor to miss his carriage.” 

His lips twitched at your words. “You end our outing so soon?”

“You were against it in the first place,” you pointed out. “And I believe this has lasted far longer than I initially planned.” 

“I was also against your ruse,” Anthony said, and when he stood up, he offered his hand. “But you seem to be quite skilled at changing my mind.” 

It was so different from all the others, when he offered his arm for a promenade or took you to the dance floor, and it was why you hesitated. But you pushed the thought aside as you took it, and Anthony pulled you up from the ground. 

“I suppose I am,” you joked.

“Thank you for this.” He brushed off his clothes, a smile as genuine as the others pulling at his lips. “It was enjoyable.” 

“Just enjoyable?” you asked playfully. 

“My apologies,” Anthony said. “This was fantastic. Incredible. Is life-changing satisfactory?” 

You nodded, biting back your smile. “I believe so. Nothing with me is anything less than life-changing.” 

“That is certain,” he agreed.

Anthony offered his arm and the two of you began walking back to the front of your estate. The silence was comfortable as it lingered in the air, only broken once you stopped in front of the carriage that he was indeed late for. 

“I do mean it,” Anthony said, “my thanks for this. Sincerely so.” 

“Of course,” you said. “If you ever find you are in need of some stars, my yard is always open.” 

His lips quirked into a slight smile. “The stars do not have much meaning without you beside me to give them one.” 

You huffed a slight laugh as your gaze turned upwards again. “Well, that is Cassiopeia,” you said with a gesture at the sky, and you managed a wry smile. “Though you will probably just see more lines.” 

“If you tell me they are more than lines, then they are more than lines,” Anthony said. “That much, I know.” 

You felt the warmth rise to your cheeks, and you curtsied to him. “I will see you tomorrow, Lord Bridgerton.” 

“I will see you tomorrow.” Anthony hesitated, gazing into your eyes with abandon. He lifted your hand and pressed a gentle kiss to it, murmuring your name before he let it go. 

And then he entered the carriage, though there was some form of reluctance in his movements. You waited until his departure, even longer after until he and his men were nothing but a speck in the distance, and it wasn’t until then that you could breathe freely. 

“My lady?”

Your focus was broken at the sound of your lady’s maid’s voice, and you blinked a multitude of times as you turned around.

“Julia,” you said. “What brings you here?”

“You, my lady,” she said with a slight laugh. “You’ve just been… standing out here. Alone. Doing nothing.”

“My apologies,” you said with a practiced smile, though you wrought your hands together. “I appear to be in my head tonight. You needn’t come out here for me.”

“I wanted to make sure you were alright,” Julia said. “Is the viscount gone?”

“He is. I saw him off.” The skin where his lips touched still burned, and you felt a swell of something inside of you. “I— I should be settling in for the night.”

You began walking in at a hasty pace, but Julia easily matched it. “Of course. I will help you get ready.”

You shook your head, and you couldn’t help but cast one last glance out the door before it closed. You cleared your throat and looked back at Julia. “All I request is that you help me into my dressing gown, and then you can retire. I would like some solitude tonight.”

She nodded. “Of course, my lady.”

“Is my mother still awake?” you asked as the two of you walked up the stairs together.

“No,” Julia said. “She retired shortly after you and the viscount took your leave.”

“Good,” you murmured. You did not think you could deal with her much tonight. Not after… whatever it was that went on between you and him. 

Julia did as asked, helping you out of your layers and into your nightgown before she took her leave. 

Lying in bed alone, you found yourself staring at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. 

All you could think of was Anthony. His eyes boring into yours, the heat of his lips against your bare hand, his willingness to do something he likely saw as ridiculous merely because it made you happy. The weight of his jacket against your shoulders, the attentiveness he had towards you for him to have realized. 

The softness with which he said your name, every syllable a symphony in your ears, more beautiful than anything simply because Anthony spoke it. 

Oh. 

Your heart hammered in your chest as the realization struck. 

Oh. 

You were doomed. 

-

Split down the middle. It was an apt designation for how you felt in the coming days and weeks. 

One part of you—the idiot, lovesick part—wanted nothing but to spend more time with Anthony Bridgerton. A singing heart every time Julia told you he awaited you in the drawing room, weakened knees when he offered his hand to pull you onto the dance floor, an unavoidable smile throughout any of your conversations. You finally realized what all those ladies saw in the Viscount Bridgerton. 

The other part—the intelligent part that knew this was the one thing that could absolutely not happen—wanted nothing more than to ignore his every call. To stay silent during promenades, to refuse his dance offers, to stay shut in your room when he called on you. To be able to avoid him in every possible way because you could not encourage your feelings further.  

It was terrible. Awful. Horrendous. You were quite sure that you loved Anthony Bridgerton, and the one thing you were meant to do was not love Anthony Bridgerton. 

The more time you spent around him, the more you thought about him, the more you felt for him, and there was not a single way to avoid it because his courtship was the only thing keeping you above water. 

You really were doomed. 

“Are you even listening to me?” 

You blinked as Eloise said your name, and you looked over at her. “I apologize. I was in my head.” 

“You’ve been in your head quite frequently as of late,” Eloise said, and she huffed a sigh as she flopped onto the couch next to you. “I can only assume my brother is to blame.” 

You felt your cheeks heat. If only she knew how true that was. 

“He is part of it,” you admitted, turning your head slightly so she could not see any visible embarrassment. “It may not be easy to be a Bridgerton, but it’s by no means easy to be courted by one, either.” 

“I can imagine,” she said with another sigh. “For how serious Anthony always is, he certainly is dramatic.” Eloise eyed you. “Would you like me to speak plainly?” 

Your brows creased slightly, though you still didn’t look at her. “Always.” 

“I honestly think he may be enjoying this,” she said. “Anthony has never been much for… anything, really. Anything besides duty. He’s pleasant around us for the most part, and I love him with all my heart, but he’s always so serious.” She shrugged. “It appears that you’ve brought out another side of him.” 

Your breath caught in your chest for a moment. You still could not bring yourself to meet her eyes. “Truly?” 

“Truly,” Eloise nodded. “When you end this, I believe he’ll come out the other side a better man. So I suppose I should thank you for this whole ruse.” 

A smile played on your lips for a moment, but it fell just as quickly. You’d always known it was going to end—the ruse was your idea in the first place—and yet you were the one fighting against her impossible feelings. You were a damn doomed fool. 

You had to fight the urge to hit your head against the back of the couch. You felt as if you were going insane, but you could not reveal the whirlwind inside your mind to anyone. 

“There is no need to thank me,” you finally said. “It’s been a pleasure.” 

“A pleasure,” Eloise said dryly. “Really?” 

You nodded, finally sitting up and looking at her. “Yes. Anthony was a bit of a nuisance at first, but…” you smiled just at the thought of him. “We’ve become friends after all this time. Quite close friends.” 

Eloise’s nose wrinkled, and then she sighed yet again. “I suppose it is a good thing if you two are getting along. As long as you will still trade barbs with me about him.” 

You chuckled. “Always.” 

You couldn’t tell her. You wouldn’t tell her, because there was no use in creating such a problem for no reason. 

You loved Anthony, you were sure of that by now, though you had not previously thought it at all possible. And none of it mattered, because by the end of the season, your courtship would be a distant memory. 

You and Eloise continued your idle chatter, but your heart was not in it. How could it be, when you could only think of Anthony? You could only think of Anthony, the one man you never thought you would want and now the one man you can never have. 

It was ridiculous. He turned you into a ridiculous woman and you would never forgive him for it. 

You’d always wondered how you would end your ruse when your mothers had grown so attached to the courtship, the idea of you as a Bridgerton. 

Your mothers were no longer the problem. 

-

The middle of the season came and went, your feelings for Anthony growing ever stronger—your disdain for those feelings grew alongside them. 

Your parents were working harder than ever as the peak of the season approached—your father spent most nights bent over documents and papers regarding the finances, pushing pennies so that you would be able to afford the frivolities of the ton and appearing on the arm of a Bridgerton. 

Your mother had a job of equal difficulty—she had to maintain the Worthing image and name. It had never been the best to begin with as one of the poorer families of the ton, but Anthony’s courtship had pushed you through the ranks. Your mother was determined to keep you there. 

The pairing between you and Anthony should have remained the same stagnant charade, but it was difficult to act the same as always with your feelings evolving ever so. It did not help that both your mother and Lady Bridgerton were convinced a proposal was to be just around the corner when nothing could be further from the truth. 

And it was not as if they were wrong for holding that belief. Were this a traditional courting, Anthony would likely be preparing to get down on one knee—instead, your promenades consisted of discussions on how best to end your situation. 

(“Perhaps you could have a meltdown,” Anthony had suggested once. “It would certainly not come as a surprise to the ton—they would merely see it as what has been coming all along.” 

“Your faith in me is truly astounding, Anthony,” you said dryly. “It is sure to be a mystery on how we did not work out.” 

He chuckled and shook his head. “I am only trying to work with you. Must I remind you that it was you that started this, all because you did not want to get married? This would simply be an extension—you’ve never wanted to marry a man before, what is one more to add to the list?” 

“Yes, but…” you shook your head and sighed. “I fear we may have performed our act too well. At this point, it feels as if any means of our splitting will hurt our mothers and cause a riot in the ton, no matter how we do it.” 

“I think you may be right,” Anthony said, and he frowned. “I do not know whether I want Hyacinth to find out you will not be her sister through Whistledown or through me—I know I could not handle the look on her face, but to let her discover it through gossip seems even worse.” 

You could not help a sly smile at that. “Are you telling me I have charmed your family even more than I had before?” 

He offered a smile of his own. “I believe I have charmed your family just as much, if not more. Your mother adores me more than ever.”) 

No, it did not help that your mother adored him, and it did not help that Hyacinth and Gregory adored you. Every second spent around Anthony and his family pushed you further to your doom, and what a lovely doom it was. 

Seeing Anthony dressed up at every ball was also not of aid, and you could not help but smile when your eyes met at the latest ball. You knew of your mother’s watchful eye over both of you, but you found you didn’t care when he offered his hand. 

“You look beautiful,” Anthony murmured so only you could hear it as he led you out to the dance floor. You took up your positions and started the waltz—you had Anthony to thank for the increase in your skill, for the amount of dancing you did these days made it impossible for your ability to remain stagnant. 

You chuckled a bit. “Thank you, Anthony, but nobody can hear us. You do not need to keep up appearances.” 

The smile remained on his lips for just a moment too long before he blinked and nodded. “You are correct. I suppose it is just becoming a habit.” 

Butterflies erupted in your chest, and in your flustered state, you fell out of the rhythm and missed your next step. If it hadn’t been for Anthony leading so well, you would’ve fallen. 

How could he just say those things? How could he just say those frustratingly charming things without blinking an eye, words that made you trip over your feet and spurned warmth in your core and drove you insane? 

Did Anthony even know what he did to you? 

“Are you alright?” he questioned, and for a moment all you were able to do was stare into his eyes. They were beautiful. 

“Yes,” you finally managed, clearing your throat as you glanced away for a moment. 

It is just becoming a habit, he said, words that near perfectly echoed your own situation.

Each time you slipped your arm around Anthony’s, each time he was a caller in your drawing room for an early morning—early mornings which you were becoming all the fonder of with each outing—each time he smiled at you in that way of his, each time you looked into those warm brown eyes, each time he was just the slightest bit too close and you were able to feel your heart speed up and your breath hitch. 

Being around Anthony Bridgerton was becoming a habit for you, you realized, a habit you did not want to let go of. 

You did not realize Anthony was speaking to you until he said your name again and you snapped out of your thoughts, staring at him for a moment before you nodded. 

“Apologies,” you covered up, “it seems I am very in my head tonight.” 

“It is alright,” he said, smiling softly. “I was merely asking if your outing with your parents the other night went well.” 

“Yes,” you breathed, “yes, it was quite pleasant.” 

Though you answered, you could still hardly focus. And it was all because of the man you were dancing with, because of the delicate yet sure grip he had on your hands, because of the sweetest eyes you’d ever known gazing at you with reassurance. 

You were horribly in love with Anthony Bridgerton, and there was nothing you could do about it. 

-

“…So,” Anthony said as the two of you trailed through the streets, “remind me what you have roped me into?”

“I have not roped you into anything,” you said. “I am taking you to a rally; one for the advancement of women. I believe it would do you some good to see what your myriad of sisters put up with because of men like you.” 

“Men like me?” he repeated, having the gall to sound slightly offended. 

“Yes, men like you,” you agreed. “Men who do not even question why they are so deserving of their position so high above us, and do not even think to change things because society solely benefits them.” 

“Do you ever get tired of your constant bitterness?” he asked dryly. 

“No,” you responded cheerfully, “I only get tired of you.” 

“Ah,” he said with a nod. “That is why you have not only decided to be my fake courtee for an entire season, but to willingly bring me along on one of your weekend escapades.” 

“I put up with you so I will not have to put up with those even more irritating,” you reminded him.

“And that is why you always smile at me with the strength of a thousand suns while we dance?” he asked. “Why you continue to promenade with me and indulge my conversational whims and accept me without complaint as a constant caller?” 

You shrugged, and you hoped the heat rushing to your cheeks was not visible. Perhaps he could read you better than you thought. “As I said, it is so I will not have to put up with those more irritating. I have come to appreciate you.” 

“Times like these, I wonder if we are truly faking it,” Anthony said. “We already bicker as much as a married couple — perhaps we have somehow skipped the engagement and the wedding and gone right into the arguments.” 

“I believe that is simply called friendship, Anthony.” 

He raised his eyebrows, a smile tugging at his lips as he said your name. “You see me as a friend?” 

“And now I regret saying it,” you laughed.  

“Oh, do not lie,” Anthony said wryly. “Why have you brought me here, if not to argue on the way?” 

“It is simply a learning experience for you,” you scoffed. “It is actually quite enriching, Anthony. You may want to take your leave now though, lest you end up learning something.” 

“You are truly hilarious,” he said, devoid of emotion. He glanced down at the basket you carried in your hands before looking back to you. “And what is in there?”

“Any goods I can spare,” you said. “I am one of the poorer ladies in the ton, but I am still more fortunate than many of the women that attend these rallies. They are often working mothers and sisters trying their best to support their families, but it is hardly ever enough. I do what I can to make it even the slightest bit easier for them.”

Anthony went silent, and when you glanced at him he had an odd look on his face, his gaze set on you.

“What?” you asked, and he offered the smallest smile.

“That is quite a gesture,” he finally said. “Most families in society tend to ignore anyone beneath them. They would not be caught dead in a place like this.”

“They are not beneath me,” you corrected. “They are not beneath any of us. None of them have chosen the lives they lead; wealth begets wealth, and poverty the same. It is a vicious cycle that hardly anyone is able to break out of. I see no reason why I should not use my privilege to make anyone’s life even the slightest bit easier.”

“Besides,” you said with a raise of your brow, “you are here with me, are you not?”

Anthony nodded after a moment. “I suppose you are rubbing off on me.”

You smiled. “I am glad to have gotten through to you on at least one thing. Helping others with your wealth is perhaps the best thing for you to pick up from me, I think.”

“You are quite good at ruining the moment, are you aware?”

“Oh,” you said with a cheeky smile, “I absolutely am.”

You soon made it to the opening where the rally was being held. Though some were underground in the metaphorical sense, this one was rather out in the open. It was in a darker corner of the city, so you supposed the organizers did not think they would be disturbed. 

You wandered around with Anthony for a bit as you emptied your basket to a variety of women and youths, and by the time the first speaker had begun, you had handed out everything you’d brought. 

You took Anthony’s hand and pulled him behind you as you moved through the crowd to get closer, and when you tried to let go of his hand, he wouldn’t let you. You smiled up at him, and it seemed as if he’d only realized what he’d done in that moment. 

“I do not trust this part of town,” he whispered to you. “It is for your protection.” 

“Of course,” you whispered back, though you could not hide your mirth as you turned back to the speaker. 

It was wonderful. She spoke of all sorts of things relating to women and the betterment of your sex, how they deserved a place in Parliament and a voice and respect for more than motherly duties, how— 

“This is unseemingly,” Anthony huffed. 

You frowned. “How?” 

“This is hardly a proper place for anyone.” His eyes darted around. 

“This is where I am to end up if I do not figure out a better way out of the ton,” you said. “This is how a majority of London lives.” 

“I am aware of that,” he muttered. “Do not think me so naive that I do not understand my privilege. I just…” Anthony shook his head and sighed. “No matter. How many of these have you been to?” 

“Five, I believe.” You frowned. “Six, actually. There was the time I told my parents I was ill and snuck out.” 

“It is a miracle you are still alive,” Anthony marveled. 

You shrugged. “I never said I was intelligent. Merely smart.” 

He laughed, genuine and full, and you found yourself smiling. 

And then there was yelling. 

Your brows creased again as you looked to the front, only to see a man. His burly and unkempt appearance weren’t the only off-putting things about him. He spat rhetoric against everything the rally stood for, and the look in his eye was chilling. 

You’d heard of this happening before, of men from the city who indulged their baser instincts and liked the world just the way it was now, invading rallies and meetings held by women just to create problems and spread fear.  

Some cries ran out around the crowd, and your head whirled around to see other men like the one yelling pushing through the sea of people, intimidating and snapping their way through. You went to take a step back, but Anthony was already ahead of you as his grip on your hand tightened. 

It appeared that this was one of those times. 

“Ah,” you said, beginning to back up alongside Anthony. “I forgot to mention one thing to you.” 

“And that is?” he asked, annoyance coloring his words. 

“This gathering is not exactly legal.” You winced as a pairing shouldered past you, but you held fast onto Anthony’s hand. “I’d say it’s quite illegal, actually. Which is why it can be interrupted in this fashion.” 

“Wonderful,” he breathed. “I’d say that it is time to take our leave. Would you agree?” 

“Yes,” you said, “I would.” 

The glint of a knife caught your eye even from afar, gripped in the hand of one of the men, and a lady’s scream pierced the air. 

And then full-on chaos broke out. 

-

Everything after that was mostly a blur. Something triggered inside of Anthony, clear in the wild look in his eye, and his only thought was seemingly to get you out unharmed. It worked for the most part, to his credit, though you didn’t get away completely unscathed. 

You also did not get away together. Somewhere in the middle, someone had barreled between the two of you and broken your link. Anthony had lost you in the rush, and he felt as if he was going insane. 

This may have been your idea, illegal as it was, but he was not going to allow anything to happen to you. He couldn’t allow anything to happen to you— he couldn’t. 

He shouted your name, once, twice, three times, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried his best to navigate through the insanity. This was no longer a rally, this was a riot, and with you missing Anthony truly feared the worst. His stomach twisted into knots just thinking about it.

He shouted your name, once, twice, three times, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried his best to navigate through the insanity. This was no longer a rally, this was a riot, and with you missing Anthony truly feared the worst. His stomach twisted into knots just thinking about it.

He’d just passed an alleyway when a hand darted out of nowhere and pulled him to the side; though his first instinct was to break away, the weight of his anxieties disappeared when he saw who had dragged him over.

Anthony said your name with complete relief, his shoulders dropping as the tension faded away. “I couldn’t find you, and I thought the worst— thank God you’re safe.” 

“Thank God you are safe,” you murmured, and he chuckled as he shook his head. Somehow, in this situation, you were worried about him. 

“I still cannot believe you are here,” Anthony huffed. He moved to the edge of the alleyway to watch, waiting for the chaos to clear out. “Is this truly what you are engaging in every weekend? Barbaric riots where its attendees are lucky to make it out alive?” 

“I promise,” you said through a shaky exhale, pressing your aching fingers to your chest as you held your good hand against your bleeding nose, “they are never like this.”

His eyes darted back over to you, and that was when he noticed the injury. “God, what happened to you?” 

You opened your mouth to diminish it, but Anthony moved over and began examining you for worse injuries. You let out a breathy laugh and shook your head. “I am fine, Anthony, trust me. Men in these parts believe in one vein of equality, at least, seeing as I was punched in the face.” 

His eyes widened and it only made you smile more. “Do not worry. I punched him back.” You held up your hand, bunching it into a fist. “I believe my knuckles will bruise something fierce later, though.” 

Anthony shook his head, another breathless laugh taking him. “You are truly something else.” 

“And I am fine,” you assured, though the slight strain of your voice said something different. Anthony did not notice, though, and he moved back to his spot on the edge watching for clearings.  

“You said you have been to six of these before,” Anthony said. “And they have never been like this?” 

“Never.” 

“Then I assume this riot was something special they planned just for me.”

“You jest, but you may not be far from the truth.” You chuckled but immediately winced. “You are bad luck, Anthony.”

“I am bad luck?“ He turned and fixed you with a pointed look. “You are the one who threw herself into the middle of a fight; it is fortunate you got away with so few injuries.” 

You huffed a laugh but a sharp pain once again shot through your chest, far more extreme than the last, and you barely managed to stifle your gasp of pain. You took your hand away from your nose and pressed it against your side, but all it caused was an even greater ripple of pain throughout your entire body. 

When you took your hand away, every part that had been against your dress was coated in a shimmering layer of blood, a small drop falling from your finger and splattering to the ground below. Your heart caught in your throat as you weakly pulled at the hem, crimson red seeping through the laceration in the fabric as a confirmation of the injury below. 

So it seemed you had not been lucky enough to get away with only a bloody nose and bruised knuckles. 

“...Anthony?” you managed weakly, your limbs growing heavy as your vision began to blur. “I… it…” 

Anthony’s head whipped around. His eyes were the last thing you saw, wide with fear and lips moving in silent panic as he lunged towards you. 

And then the world around you faded into darkness.

-

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[weirdmorefics]

benedict with a younger sister who he catches at one of the parties he goes to talking to a man who has less than innocent intentions with her and she’s oblivious and just thought it would be a fun place to drink bcs that’s what she’d heard when was out at the park earlier that day

A/N- Sorry for it taking a while I really am starting to believe in the fanfiction curse. I also made up the seedy guy who had unhonorable intentions in this story just an FYI.

Readers Pronouns- She/Her

TW- Sexism

Word Count- 1,653

Summary- Benedict goes to a local gathering of artists and happens to find his darling younger sister enjoying the company of some of Benedict's unsavory friends.

Unhonorable Intentions

I am a rake. I take no shame in this fact. I am allowed to be a free spirit it is my birthright as the second-born son. No obligations no responsibility. I would loathe to be in Anthony's shoes. Though Y/n seems to have made it her mission for me to walk in his shoes tonight. What is she even doing in a place like this? Last I knew she preferred literature over the arts. Yet she hangs on a man's arm as he explains his next work. in progress that he is sure will be his Magnus opus. I glare at them hopefully sister notices my gaze burning into her side so I can continue my night as if nothing happened. However, when I glare at them I realize who the man she is talking to is and now I know there is no way I can continue my night. Unfortunately said man felt my gaze instead of Y/n and smiled and pulled her forcefully along with him.

"Bridgerton! It's grand to see you! We've missed you at the club!" Alexander shakes my hand roughly and I return it with an insincere smile. "Saw you eyeing my new muse, I regret to inform you I don't share." God, I want to gag as I know what he does with his so-called muses. Y/n smiles at being called his muse she does love it when I draw her but this man does not have honorable intentions. He and I have very different definitions of what a muse is. My idea of a muse is someone who inspires you to create, Alexander's idea of a muse is a woman to sleep with and then abandon.

I straighten back to assert my taller posture over the man, "And I regret to inform you your so-called muse is my darling baby sister." I look down at her with demanding eyes, "I do say it is time we get back to Mother. Isn't Y/n?"

She looks taken aback by my tone, "What do you mean? I just got here."

Alexanders' grin increases tenfold, "A Bridgeton! Benedict I had no idea you were hiding such a beauty to yourself! If I was her brother I'd never let her out of the house either." This man is truly revolting the artist community here is unfortunately very small and I have to find a way to remain civil.

Y/n smiles, "So you know Alexander? That's too bad really I was hoping to learn some different art techniques from him to impart to you! I had no idea you knew such a famous artist!"

I grit my teeth, "Famous now Alexander are we?"

This flusters him for a moment but he recovers quickly, "Aren't all artists famous in a different sort of way?"

I want to laugh at such an absurd response… sadly Y/n is far too naive for her own good.

"I agree wholeheartedly! Benedict is the most famous artist in our family! I'm quite jealous of his talent I must admit! It makes sense he would be at such a regal event filled with so much talent. To be truthful I overheard this soiree would have fabulous drinks on this morning's promenade and couldn't resist," she gushes over my talents and breaks my heart for not being more present in my siblings' lives.

Anthony just seemed to have it all handled, Daphne was married off, Eloise could certainly hold her own ground, Francessa was so busy with her studies, and Mother had Gregory and Hycanith under control. Even though Y/n is Eloise's twin she couldn't be any more different she believes the best in everyone and is too quick to forgive in my opinion and Alexander is taking advantage of that and I will not let that stand.

I smile down at Y/n, "Y/n you downplay your own talents no need to associate with a man whose talents consist of preying on women through false pretenses."

Her eyes widen to the size of quarters, "Benedict you can not make such outrageous claims!"

I pretend to not know exactly what she is talking about, "You mean your talents? Your poetry talent is outrageous and that's not a claim it's just a fact."

She blushes at the compliment but for some asinine reason still wants to defend Alexander. Though it seemed her brain could not keep up with the unusual compliment from me and the unflattering words I spoke about Alexander she just stuttered unintelligible anger, shock, and joy all marking her face. Alexander on the other hand was just fuming red.

"First you insult me Bridgerton then you demean poetry as a genre by encouraging a woman to write it." he snarls.

I have never seen Y/n turn so quickly and before anyone in the room knows what's happening a resounding slap is heard over all the chatter and everyone turns to the noise. Alexander's eye is twitching and a red welt in the shape of my sister's hand is forming on his face. He glares at her with murderous eyes but she holds her head high I have never seen her this determined and it makes me wonder what else I missed while she was growing up and I was galavanting around with men like Alexander.

She points an angry finger at him like Mother would when she would scold us, "Gentleman like yourself actually I wouldn't even call men like you gentleman but that's beside the point. Men like you say women are too emotional to do anything but care for the home. Poetry is all about emotion it's supposed to make you feel something like the art you make, or apparently don't make from what I just learned from Benedict's side comment. I would also like to remind you who is in charge of our country or rather what sex they are?"

All eyes are on us and Alexander looks like he might strangle Y/n with his two hands if the vein bulging out of his forehead is any indicator.

"Oh and by the way when I complimented your line work on your latest piece I was lying it was shit but you know how men can be so emotional I didn't want to hurt your feelings," she fake pouted. This is definitely not the young sister I once knew she may still be naive but she has now learned to use her talent with words as a knife.

Alexander's arm shoots to roughly grab her but I am quick to block, "I'm Alexander but we must be going. It was so nice talking to you as always. I would definitely take my dear sister's words under advisement to spend more time working on your line art." I then pull him very closely into my body and if anyone hadn't seen the previous incident they would have thought it was just two chaps hugging. I whisper, "Less time with lines of ladies and coke you might find yourself able to make straight lines. And if I ever hear you laid a hand on my sister I will kill you myself." I roughly release him and he scrambles backwards ungracefully as all eyes on him.

I link arms with Y/n, "Come on we must really be going now."

Once we make it outside away from prying eyes she quickly bursts into sobs, "Gods what have I done! I was just so angry he'd judge me just based on my sex. God, what if Lady Whistledown writes about me!" She starts pacing with her hands on her forehead and this is the Y/n I am all too familiar with, " Oh God what if Mama reads it! What if I ruin the Bridgerton name? Anthony will never forgive me!"

I clap and quickly gain her attention back, "You certainly won't be the first Bridgerton featured in Lady Whistledown and I am certain you will not be the last."

"Not helping!' She shouts back.

"No one will be mad you stood your ground… in fact, I am quite proud of you."

Her eyes study me, "Are you serious? I just slapped your friend in a soiree full of your peers."

"Anthony was more of an acquaintance," I add.

She rolls her eyes, "That is not the point!"

I sigh, "Yes, I am proud. You defended your honor and didn't need my help to do so. Though I am sure any of your brothers would be there in a heartbeat to defend it including me."

She smiles, "You're proud of me."

"I am not saying it again," I state.

she starts to repeat you're proud of me in a sing-songy voice.

"My pride in you is diminishing and my worry is growing. I think I will be around more often seems like Anthony isn't keeping a watchful enough eye on you if he let you go to a seedy event like this."

She tilts her head, "But you were at the event?"

"Exactly I only attend seedy events, though it appears now I must reform. Think of me has your second Anthony," maybe having responsibilities won't be so bad if I get to see Y/n chew out more men like Alexander.

She groans, "I don't want another Anthony how will I ever do anything fun."

"That's the point Y/n," I smile.

She groans, "I hope Lady Whistledown writes you into the story and makes you sound dreadful."

"As long as she writes how daring and smart my younger sister is we will be on good terms," I smile as she groans again at her failed attempt to get under my skin.

"Thank you, I guess," she responds.

I may be late in helping my siblings but at least they all still have some more growing to do and I plan to be there for all of it.

[jeffreyfrancoeur]

Can we just...stop comparing Colin to Anthony? Please? They aren't remotely close to the same person, and it's frankly disheartening to see time and time again now.

"Colin had no trauma related to love and self worth to deal with like Simon and Anthony had."

Unless I am very much mistaken, Colin and Anthony have the same father. They both watched said father die from a bee sting. They both watched their mother hold her dying husband in her arms and sob because she just lost the love of her life. The only difference? Anthony was 18, and Colin was 10-12, depending if we're talking show or book. Regardless, watching his father die absolutely gave Colin trauma.

Colin was sent off to Eton not months after his father died. He never was able to process it with his own family, because they stuck together and processed it together. But Colin had to go away to school. And when he was home, he would bring flowers and play games and try to keep everyone smiling. The only way he felt useful was to focus on everyone else's happiness and diminish his own needs.

He went away on travels each year to try to find himself, process his own trauma and experiences. His engagement to Marina blew up in his face, so he immediately left to go traveling, to lick his wounds away from the rest of the ton. And while he was gone, Penelope was the main one to read and reply to his letters. When he got back, his own family diminished him, said it was a waste of time, that his "prattling on about his travels" was boring. So what did that teach Colin? That his family doesn't care about him. Doesn't value him. Doesn't find his time, his experiences, worth it. Eloise says to Pen (in front of Colin) that she found his letters about Greece dull, and couldn't finish them.

So at the beginning of season 3, when he's returned from another summer away, after no one in his family replied to a single one of his letters, and in the carriage to the presentation, he's absolutely going to not want to talk about his travels with Anthony. "Who are you and what have you done to our brother?" You happened to Colin, Anthony. Colin is masking and pretending like his travels weren't a big deal, that they didn't affect him, when he straight up tells Penelope later that he used the time away to remake himself into a new man. To try out a new persona, away from the ton, where no one knew him as Colin Bridgerton, or as a Bridgerton at all. He was just some nameless man.

He felt like he had no one back home to care about him, so the problem must obviously be him. That there was something wrong with who he is as a person, and that maybe this new version of himself would finally make the people back home--and his family--care about him. Maybe this version would finally be the version of him that's good enough.

So when he comes back to London, he's a flirt. He plays at being a "rake." He sleeps with random women. He goes out drinking with his "friends" all the time, laughs with them at their conquests. But he doesn't enjoy any of it. His mother tells him that he's always been one of her most sensitive children, always putting others first, helping them, trying to lighten the mood. But she also says that he downplays himself for the sake of others. That he puts on armor, that he needs to not put others first so he can ensure that the armor will not some day rust and be unable to be removed. She is possibly the only person who sees Colin, truly sees him.

He feels like he needs to hide his sensitive side, be less needy, be stronger, be more manly. (I would eat my hat if Anthony hasn't told him to "be a man" more than once.) This flirty rake is not who he is at his core. At his core, he is kind, and sensitive, and craves connection. He craves connection so deeply. He wants to be seen, to be loved, to be cared for, to be cherished. Ultimately, he wants someone to value him, like he does for all those around him that he cares about. His family ignored him for that entire summer, and he still brought back incredibly thoughtful gifts for each of them, that shows how much he knows them and loves them. He wants to be able to love, care for, and cherish someone in return.

How is his desire for love and to be loved and this ease in which he creates a new Colin to try and please everyone else not a trauma response related to love and self worth?

[newtonsheffield]

I just know that Anthony B loves Kate spending his money.

He loves when he sees her sat at the vanity that in itself is a new addition to his rooms and he doesn’t recognize the dress she’s wearing.

“A new dress?”

Kate lifts her eyebrow as her maid finishes her hair, “The fabric caught my eye when I was there with Eloise and Francesca. Do you like it?”

He stared at the blue fabric, no thoughts at all beside the fact that he loved providing for her this way. Loved giving her the means to have whatever she wanted. Even when he looks around now this room is unrecognizable from what it was a year ago. Her impact on his life obvious in the colour of the walls and the flowers around the room. The sheets on the bed he was sitting on and the curtains had been chosen by her. For them to live their lives together.

“It’s very nice. Of course I think I prefer what’s underneath.”

Kate laughed and her maid let out an awkward squeak of a noise as she finished. “Anything else, Lady Bridgerton?”

“No, thank you.” She waited for the maid to leave before Kate chuckled, “You’re going to have everyone downstairs talking about what a rake you are.”

“Oh I think they already do that.” He grinned as she made her way over to the bed leaning down, her lips brushing his ear.

“Perhaps there’s something nice under here for you tonight.”

Anthony’s stomach dropped and his mouth felt dry as he hooked a finger in the front of her dress, peering down it.

“Anthony!” She shoved him playfully backwards, “Can you not wait for anything?”

Anthony scoffed, “I think I’ve made it abundantly clear that I can’t.”

“I know, but at least try to pretend.”

“I have to say one of the best things about being a very wealthy man is providing quite so many pieces of lingerie for my new wife. A bonus I didn’t see coming when I thought to marry. That and the throw cushions. I quite like those.”

“I’m glad I hold a little more intrigue than a cushion, Darling. Very proud.”

[dollypopup]

I get why people would think it but

Colin is NOT a rake. Colin is a young man trying to figure out his identity and what he likes sexually and trying to understand what the men of his society talk about and do. He's not out here messing around with women just to string them along and then leave them. He's trying to fit in and has been made fun of for being a virgin so yeah, he rectifies that by having sex, but just because he slept with a few women, that doesn't make him a rake? You wanna know who an actual rake in the series is?

Fife.

Because what the fuck happened to Miss Goring? I think about her sometimes and my heart aches for her. Her first season out, she's an 18 year old woman, and an older, titled man of her society who she assumes to be a proper gentleman makes her believe their relationship can actually be something, messes around with her the entire season, and then fucks her in a linen closet at a ball only to....what? Come back the next year with absolutely no mention of her whatsoever. Did she get pregnant? Was sent off in disgrace? Have to marry someone else?

Fife is a 30 year old man who has a bad habit of hounding after young, vulnerable women in his society. He fucks them and leaves them. He's a rake. Colin? Colin is not even close to that. Say what you will about the brothel scenes, but that IS the responsible place for a man of his time to go to for sex. Please stop demonizing sex work. Yes, many of these women are in that line of work because of less than savory reasons, but Colin is not taking advantage of them. He is paying for a service and they are providing that service. It is transactional, and he is the LEAST of their concerns in terms of clientele. A kind, handsome man who pays well and is discrete? Yeah, they're fine with him.

Colin has a history of respecting women. He respected Marina all throughout their courtship, and even after. I know some people sneer at him coming to see Marina, but please keep in mind she is a woman on her own who married a stranger far away from ANYONE who knew her. Colin was worried about Daphne when she came to him, asking if anything happened when she was away and clearly ready to fight for her, so of course he's worried about Marina. Partly he visits her for his own closure, but also like....y'all that's a WELLNESS visit. He's concerned that she's unhappy, but ultimately leaves because she's not hurt and that she tells him to. Colin listens to 'no' from the women around him. He asks for permission from them. He waited for Penelope's consent sexually, but he also didn't even get into the carriage until she allowed him. He even asks "Please, let me in".

Colin lives in a time when women do not have many rights, and he listens to the women around him even more than the men. He is the only one of his siblings to ask for his mum's advice and immediately takes it and takes action. He brings Eloise back a feminist text from his travels, even after she's besmirched as a radical, because he supports her pursuits. In season 2, he also knew of her going to the printers and didn't say anything. He has always respected and cared for Penelope. He hasn't insulted a single woman in his vicinity. He doesn't make the women he flirts with feel bad about themselves, or feel less, but compliments them, all whilst keeping respectable distance so as not to make them think he's interested in marrying them. He doesn't dance with any woman but Penelope in that season.

Colin isn't a rake. He's not a fuckboy. He's trying to act like he is, emulating the circle of his society, but that doesn't mean he is. I swear people just WANT to misinterpret him because that's the easiest way, but Colin is a character who doesn't lend well to surface level readings. He's a nuanced, gentle hearted character who has been looked down on for his sensitivity. He's a deeply relatable person because who of us haven't pretended to be accepted? Especially if we've been bullied or excluded. I know I have. Put on a persona for the sake of survival. And he does so for what? A few weeks? That does not a fuckboy make.

Just say you don't want to understand him and move along because those of us who get him GET HIM. And I'm grateful for a character like Colin.

He's the best man in the series by an entire mile and you can't change my mind about that.