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Love in Bloom (Benedict Bridgerton)
benedict bridgerton x best friend!fem!reader
status: complete
summary: You and Benedict have been best friends since childhood, but things change dramatically once you come out in society. You're struggling to find someone you're as compatible with and who knows you as well as Benedict, all while trying to quell your ever-growing feelings for him. Shenanigans ensue.
Lost in Translation (Colin Bridgerton)
colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader
status: ongoing
summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?
The Taming of the Rake (Anthony Bridgerton)
anthony bridgerton x Daphne's best friend!fem!reader
status: ongoing
summary: At her wit's end after Anthony's multiple attempts to scare away her suitors, Daphne employs her best friend's help to keep her brother distracted while she tries to find a husband. It's a foolproof plan, except it ends up working a little too well. (or, a Bridgerton version of The Taming of the Shrew/10 things I hate about you)
pairing:Â anthony bridgerton x fem!daphne's best friend!reader
WC:Â
Warnings:Â period-typical gender roles, idiots in love, we are getting somewhere!!, still a lot of pining ofc
Summary:Â At her wit's end after Anthony's multiple attempts to scare away her suitors, Daphne employs her best friend's help to keep her brother distracted while she tries to find a husband. It's a foolproof plan, except it ends up working a little too well. (or, a Bridgerton version of The Taming of the Shrew/10 things I hate about you)
December 18, 1812 - Tensions had been... high... in the Bridgerton household as of late, to say the least.
The holidays were looming, and with that loomed also the prospect of Anthony spending an entire week with you in his home in the countryside. So naturally, he'd been distracting himself by practically biting the head off of any family member who dared speak with him. A particular fury, though, was reserved for Daphne when she brought you up.
Such an argument happened to be taking place at this very moment. Anthony had made the grave mistake of revealing his plans to leave for Aubrey Hall a few days before the rest of his family in the hopes that it would provide a brief respite from the chaos.
"You're being ridiculous," yelled Daphne, grabbing a cushion off the couch and squeezing it in frustration. "You simply can't deal with your feelings like an adult and you're running away."
"I'm not running away," roared Anthony. "And I've dealt with my feelings plenty. I just can't be bothered to have this conversation for the hundredth time. You're boring, Daphne!"
"Don't you say that to me," the younger Bridgerton fumed, throwing the pillow in her hands at her brother.
Much to her chagrin, Anthony easily dodged it, and the condescending smile he gave her in response was enough for her to let out a strangled scream.
"I will as long as you keep bringing this up," Anthony snapped, nearing his sister and shaking her by the shoulders. "I've had enough of you meddling in my life once again. Let's not forget how it ended the first time."
"It only ended because you wanted it to end," growled Daphne, shoving her brother's arms off her shoulders. "You can't deny it, Anthony. It might have started as a ploy, but what happened after was entirely out of my hands. Is it really worth running away for?"
"For the last time, I'm not running away!" repeated Anthony, grabbing the pillow Daphne had thrown earlier and launching it in his sister's direction.
Unfortunately having been hit by the cushion, Daphne angrily fixed her hair as she looked at her brother. "Don't lie to yourself, Anthony. You only want to avoid Mama and me, who make you actually face your feelings. It's cowardly, just like you are."
But the venom in Daphne's voice didn't seem to penetrate her eldest brother. He'd made his decision, that much was clear, and hopefully, a couple of days of peace and quiet would help him prepare to see your eyes and hear your laugh once again without wanting to run straight into the Thames.
Ignoring his sister's insults, Anthony huffed and straightened out his coat, turning around to leave the room. "I certainly won't be speaking with her while she's at Kent if that's what you're trying to imply."
Daphne could've screamed out of frustration. She opted for something she knew would cut her brother to the bone. "Don't you think you've punished her enough?"
Anthony stopped in his tracks and blinked repeatedly, almost as if he'd been struck.
But Daphne continued. "She's miserable. She can't eat, she can't sleep, she's ridden with guilt and pales at even the slightest mention of you. I've never seen her like this. I haven't heard her laugh in weeks. Don't you think that's enough?"
Anthony turned around slowly to look at his sister, wanting to confirm what she was saying.
Daphne's eyes were clear, pleading.
"I had no idea."
"Of course you didn't. How could you? You leave the room if anyone even says her name."
"I-" tried Anthony, but no coherent sentence came out of his mouth.
"You've punished her enough," repeated Daphne, sighing deeply. "Not to mention how much you've punished yourself. You're allowed to have feelings for someone, Anthony. You're even allowed to pursue them after that. You'd be happier to realize that before you manage to completely ruin your chances with Y/N."
Once again, no words left Anthony's mouth. He was far too choked up to say anything that could have been deemed appropriate at that moment. So he stood there as Daphne pushed past him, standing in dumbfounded silence as he thought about just how much he wished he could go back to that May night when you first asked him to dance.
Perhaps he could have asked you to dance first. Perhaps it wouldn't have mattered. He supposed he'd never know.
---
Standing at the entrance to Aubrey Hall, the Bridgertons' country estate, you found yourself wringing your hands. You were anxious, though you'd never admit it aloud. You usually spent the winter at your own family's house, a tradition more rooted in habit than sentiment. But every Christmas, without fail, you took the short carriage ride to Aubrey Hall and stayed there for a week. It was your annual escape from the echoing silence of a holiday spent alone with your father, who, truthfully, preferred his ledgers to any kind of festivity. Holidays only seemed to remind him of your mother, and he coped in the only way he knew how: by pretending they didn't exist.
Daphne had repeatedly insisted that you were welcome this year. That nothing had changed. That you ought to come, just as you always had, and that everyone, including Anthony, would be happy to see you. You weren't entirely convinced, but you'd chosen to believe her. Or, at least, you were trying to.
The sky above was thick with snow-laden clouds, the air sharp with that particular stillness that came before a storm. It felt fitting, in a wayâ your thoughts were just as restless, your nerves just as unsettled. This was the first time you'd returned to a Bridgerton home since that night. Since everything. And while part of you thrilled at the familiar sight of Aubrey Hall, a quieter, more wounded part was dreading the possibility of seeing him.
Anthony.
And there it was again: that flutter in your chest you wished you could attribute to the cold.
Just as you were about to knock on the door, Anthony opened the door himself and you let out a startled gasp.
He, in turn, looked like he was seeing a ghost.
"Hello," you said awkwardly, not able to tear your gaze away from Anthony's wide eyes.
"I thought you weren't coming," breathed Anthony, completely ignoring your greeting.
"Excuse me? Daphne said-" you coughed, shocked that he wanted you out of his home that badly.
Anthony blinked, coming back to his senses. "I meant I thought you weren't coming today. The rest of the family decided to wait a couple of days for the storm to pass, I suppose I thought you'd do the same."
"They're not here yet?" you squeaked out, genuine dread filling you from head to toe as you realized you and Anthony would truly be alone in his family's country house.
He shook his head, looking at the sky as if to confirm the incoming storm.
You rushed to explain yourself. "It's such a short carriage ride that I thought the weather wouldn't matter so much. I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. I can go back, I'll just tell the driver-" you sputtered.
Anthony screwed his eyes shut briefly and then looked straight into yours. "It's alright," he assured you, almost reaching out to put a comforting hand on your shoulder but retracting it before making any contact. "The storm is about to start anyway, it wouldn't be safe."
You nodded, not quite sure how to proceed. This was the longest conversation you'd had with Anthony since he found out about... well, everything.
He cleared his throat. "Please, come in. I wouldn't want you to catch a chill," he said, stepping aside and offering to take your coat while motioning for his butler to help carry your bags inside.
Once again the two of you were stood, alone, trying to look anywhere but at each other. A heavy silence filled with things left unsaid made it almost impossible to hear your own thoughts, and you ached with the desire to reach out to Anthony for reassurance, much like you had done for a greater part of the summer.
"Well, I'd better be on my way," he said, not providing an explanation for why he was going outside when a powerful storm was clearly about to hit. "I'm certain you know your way around by now, but do let me know if you need anything."
His voice sounded detached, far away, and not at all like the warm tone he used to use when you were whispering together at a ball or sharing a funny story during a promenade. You were torn between wanting to continue speaking with Anthony, if only because it reminded you of how much you did love him, or if you wanted to get away from how cold he was being as soon as possible.
In the end, he made the decision easy for you by leaving without waiting for your response.
A painful reminder of just how damaged your relationship was. Perhaps it was beyond fixing now. It certainly seemed like it.
You sighed and made your way to your bedroom, already dreading the rest of your stay at Aubrey Hall. It was like the life had been taken out of you entirely.
Quietly reaching your door, you decided to stay away from Anthony as much as possible before the rest of his family arrived. It was the least you could do. It was already a burden being here alone with him, and you didn't want to make it worse by actually attempting to speak with him.
---
In the end, your plan failed miserably. It was the middle of the night, and you found yourself shivering from the cold in your bedroom, looking out at the snow swirling around outside. It would have been a beautiful sight if you were not chilled to the bone.
With every passing minute, your resolve to avoid Anthony at all costs was waning. You desperately needed another blanketâ or threeâ and there was no one else you could ask at this hour. It was entirely too late to bother any of the staff, and you were far too exhausted to go downstairs anyway.
As much as you tried to hold off, burying yourself in your sheets and curling into a ball, goosebumps covered your entire body and your teeth were chattering loudly.
Finally, as you felt your feet grow numb, you decided you could wait no longer. Standing up and wiggling your toes, you exited your room to try and find somewhere a blanket might be (or Anthony, whichever came first).
You wandered around aimlessly for a few minutes, not quite thinking clearly. Eventually, you passed Anthony's study and found the light under the door still shining, and you breathed a sigh of relief.
Knocking gingerly, you opened the door slowly to reveal Anthony writing down some notes on his desk before he looked up to see you.
You felt uncomfortable under his gaze, underdressed in your nightgown. He'd seen you naked before, you reminded yourself, and you almost smiled at the absurdity. But it didn't help your nervousness.
"Is something the matter? It's the middle of the night," he said, looking you up and down without restraint.
You shook your head and remembered where you were. "Oh, yes, sorry."
"I wish you'd stop apologizing," he responded darkly and promptly looked back down at what he had been writing.
Your throat went dry, but you'd come this far, you might as well actually tell him why you were here.
Trying to keep your voice level, you explained, "I was just wondering if you had a spare blanket I could use. It's quite cold in my room."
Anthony paused for a second, looking back up at you and seeing you slightly shaking from the cold still. Finally, he nodded, gesturing toward the couch at the other end of the study which had a very thick blanket laying atop it.
You scurried over, wanting to get out of his study as soon as possible, but Anthony's voice stopped you.
"I'm nearly done, if you'd like to wait for a few minutes, I can walk you back to your room."
You sent him a questioning look, but he just shrugged.
"It's quite late," he repeated, as if that would provide an explanation, and promptly returned to his work.
To be frank, you were too tired to care, and you knew that Anthony would put up a fight if you disagreed with him, so you sat down anyway. Draping the blanket across your shoulders, you sat down on the couch and stared at Anthony. It had been months since you had the opportunity to just look at him, and you had forgotten how much you truly desired him.
Even as your eyes grew heavy and you sank deeper into the cushions, you couldn't help the warm feeling that came over you every time you thought about that night with him on the floor of your library.
The next thing you knew, you were in Anthony's arms as he lowered you gently on your bed.
"I didn't realize I had fallen asleep," you whispered, rubbing your eyes sleepily.
"It's no bother," he whispered back, pulling the covers around you and tucking the blanket up to your chin.
As he turned to leave you grabbed his hand, and though he could have easily kept walking away, he sat down on the side of your bed, looking down at you expectantly.
You were half asleep and fighting to keep your eyes open, but you wanted him to know. "I wish things could be different," you spoke softly.
Anthony smiled sadly at you, saying nothing but leaning down to plant a tender kiss on your forehead before he stood to leave. You fell asleep before he even reached the door.Â
â
previous part || next part || buy me a ko-fi!
Turn on post notifications for @bosbas-library to stay updated when I post!
pairing:Â anthony bridgerton x fem!daphne's best friend!reader
WC:Â
Warnings:Â period-typical gender roles, idiots in love, we are getting somewhere!!, still a lot of pining ofc
Summary:Â At her wit's end after Anthony's multiple attempts to scare away her suitors, Daphne employs her best friend's help to keep her brother distracted while she tries to find a husband. It's a foolproof plan, except it ends up working a little too well. (or, a Bridgerton version of The Taming of the Shrew/10 things I hate about you)
December 18, 1812 - Tensions had been... high... in the Bridgerton household as of late, to say the least.
The holidays were looming, and with that loomed also the prospect of Anthony spending an entire week with you in his home in the countryside. So naturally, he'd been distracting himself by practically biting the head off of any family member who dared speak with him. A particular fury, though, was reserved for Daphne when she brought you up.
Such an argument happened to be taking place at this very moment. Anthony had made the grave mistake of revealing his plans to leave for Aubrey Hall a few days before the rest of his family in the hopes that it would provide a brief respite from the chaos.
"You're being ridiculous," yelled Daphne, grabbing a cushion off the couch and squeezing it in frustration. "You simply can't deal with your feelings like an adult and you're running away."
"I'm not running away," roared Anthony. "And I've dealt with my feelings plenty. I just can't be bothered to have this conversation for the hundredth time. You're boring, Daphne!"
"Don't you say that to me," the younger Bridgerton fumed, throwing the pillow in her hands at her brother.
Much to her chagrin, Anthony easily dodged it, and the condescending smile he gave her in response was enough for her to let out a strangled scream.
"I will as long as you keep bringing this up," Anthony snapped, nearing his sister and shaking her by the shoulders. "I've had enough of you meddling in my life once again. Let's not forget how it ended the first time."
"It only ended because you wanted it to end," growled Daphne, shoving her brother's arms off her shoulders. "You can't deny it, Anthony. It might have started as a ploy, but what happened after was entirely out of my hands. Is it really worth running away for?"
"For the last time, I'm not running away!" repeated Anthony, grabbing the pillow Daphne had thrown earlier and launching it in his sister's direction.
Unfortunately having been hit by the cushion, Daphne angrily fixed her hair as she looked at her brother. "Don't lie to yourself, Anthony. You only want to avoid Mama and me, who make you actually face your feelings. It's cowardly, just like you are."
But the venom in Daphne's voice didn't seem to penetrate her eldest brother. He'd made his decision, that much was clear, and hopefully, a couple of days of peace and quiet would help him prepare to see your eyes and hear your laugh once again without wanting to run straight into the Thames.
Ignoring his sister's insults, Anthony huffed and straightened out his coat, turning around to leave the room. "I certainly won't be speaking with her while she's at Kent if that's what you're trying to imply."
Daphne could've screamed out of frustration. She opted for something she knew would cut her brother to the bone. "Don't you think you've punished her enough?"
Anthony stopped in his tracks and blinked repeatedly, almost as if he'd been struck.
But Daphne continued. "She's miserable. She can't eat, she can't sleep, she's ridden with guilt and pales at even the slightest mention of you. I've never seen her like this. I haven't heard her laugh in weeks. Don't you think that's enough?"
Anthony turned around slowly to look at his sister, wanting to confirm what she was saying.
Daphne's eyes were clear, pleading.
"I had no idea."
"Of course you didn't. How could you? You leave the room if anyone even says her name."
"I-" tried Anthony, but no coherent sentence came out of his mouth.
"You've punished her enough," repeated Daphne, sighing deeply. "Not to mention how much you've punished yourself. You're allowed to have feelings for someone, Anthony. You're even allowed to pursue them after that. You'd be happier to realize that before you manage to completely ruin your chances with Y/N."
Once again, no words left Anthony's mouth. He was far too choked up to say anything that could have been deemed appropriate at that moment. So he stood there as Daphne pushed past him, standing in dumbfounded silence as he thought about just how much he wished he could go back to that May night when you first asked him to dance.
Perhaps he could have asked you to dance first. Perhaps it wouldn't have mattered. He supposed he'd never know.
---
Standing at the entrance to Aubrey Hall, the Bridgertons' country estate, you found yourself wringing your hands. You were anxious, though you'd never admit it aloud. You usually spent the winter at your own family's house, a tradition more rooted in habit than sentiment. But every Christmas, without fail, you took the short carriage ride to Aubrey Hall and stayed there for a week. It was your annual escape from the echoing silence of a holiday spent alone with your father, who, truthfully, preferred his ledgers to any kind of festivity. Holidays only seemed to remind him of your mother, and he coped in the only way he knew how: by pretending they didn't exist.
Daphne had repeatedly insisted that you were welcome this year. That nothing had changed. That you ought to come, just as you always had, and that everyone, including Anthony, would be happy to see you. You weren't entirely convinced, but you'd chosen to believe her. Or, at least, you were trying to.
The sky above was thick with snow-laden clouds, the air sharp with that particular stillness that came before a storm. It felt fitting, in a wayâ your thoughts were just as restless, your nerves just as unsettled. This was the first time you'd returned to a Bridgerton home since that night. Since everything. And while part of you thrilled at the familiar sight of Aubrey Hall, a quieter, more wounded part was dreading the possibility of seeing him.
Anthony.
And there it was again: that flutter in your chest you wished you could attribute to the cold.
Just as you were about to knock on the door, Anthony opened the door himself and you let out a startled gasp.
He, in turn, looked like he was seeing a ghost.
"Hello," you said awkwardly, not able to tear your gaze away from Anthony's wide eyes.
"I thought you weren't coming," breathed Anthony, completely ignoring your greeting.
"Excuse me? Daphne said-" you coughed, shocked that he wanted you out of his home that badly.
Anthony blinked, coming back to his senses. "I meant I thought you weren't coming today. The rest of the family decided to wait a couple of days for the storm to pass, I suppose I thought you'd do the same."
"They're not here yet?" you squeaked out, genuine dread filling you from head to toe as you realized you and Anthony would truly be alone in his family's country house.
He shook his head, looking at the sky as if to confirm the incoming storm.
You rushed to explain yourself. "It's such a short carriage ride that I thought the weather wouldn't matter so much. I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. I can go back, I'll just tell the driver-" you sputtered.
Anthony screwed his eyes shut briefly and then looked straight into yours. "It's alright," he assured you, almost reaching out to put a comforting hand on your shoulder but retracting it before making any contact. "The storm is about to start anyway, it wouldn't be safe."
You nodded, not quite sure how to proceed. This was the longest conversation you'd had with Anthony since he found out about... well, everything.
He cleared his throat. "Please, come in. I wouldn't want you to catch a chill," he said, stepping aside and offering to take your coat while motioning for his butler to help carry your bags inside.
Once again the two of you were stood, alone, trying to look anywhere but at each other. A heavy silence filled with things left unsaid made it almost impossible to hear your own thoughts, and you ached with the desire to reach out to Anthony for reassurance, much like you had done for a greater part of the summer.
"Well, I'd better be on my way," he said, not providing an explanation for why he was going outside when a powerful storm was clearly about to hit. "I'm certain you know your way around by now, but do let me know if you need anything."
His voice sounded detached, far away, and not at all like the warm tone he used to use when you were whispering together at a ball or sharing a funny story during a promenade. You were torn between wanting to continue speaking with Anthony, if only because it reminded you of how much you did love him, or if you wanted to get away from how cold he was being as soon as possible.
In the end, he made the decision easy for you by leaving without waiting for your response.
A painful reminder of just how damaged your relationship was. Perhaps it was beyond fixing now. It certainly seemed like it.
You sighed and made your way to your bedroom, already dreading the rest of your stay at Aubrey Hall. It was like the life had been taken out of you entirely.
Quietly reaching your door, you decided to stay away from Anthony as much as possible before the rest of his family arrived. It was the least you could do. It was already a burden being here alone with him, and you didn't want to make it worse by actually attempting to speak with him.
---
In the end, your plan failed miserably. It was the middle of the night, and you found yourself shivering from the cold in your bedroom, looking out at the snow swirling around outside. It would have been a beautiful sight if you were not chilled to the bone.
With every passing minute, your resolve to avoid Anthony at all costs was waning. You desperately needed another blanketâ or threeâ and there was no one else you could ask at this hour. It was entirely too late to bother any of the staff, and you were far too exhausted to go downstairs anyway.
As much as you tried to hold off, burying yourself in your sheets and curling into a ball, goosebumps covered your entire body and your teeth were chattering loudly.
Finally, as you felt your feet grow numb, you decided you could wait no longer. Standing up and wiggling your toes, you exited your room to try and find somewhere a blanket might be (or Anthony, whichever came first).
You wandered around aimlessly for a few minutes, not quite thinking clearly. Eventually, you passed Anthony's study and found the light under the door still shining, and you breathed a sigh of relief.
Knocking gingerly, you opened the door slowly to reveal Anthony writing down some notes on his desk before he looked up to see you.
You felt uncomfortable under his gaze, underdressed in your nightgown. He'd seen you naked before, you reminded yourself, and you almost smiled at the absurdity. But it didn't help your nervousness.
"Is something the matter? It's the middle of the night," he said, looking you up and down without restraint.
You shook your head and remembered where you were. "Oh, yes, sorry."
"I wish you'd stop apologizing," he responded darkly and promptly looked back down at what he had been writing.
Your throat went dry, but you'd come this far, you might as well actually tell him why you were here.
Trying to keep your voice level, you explained, "I was just wondering if you had a spare blanket I could use. It's quite cold in my room."
Anthony paused for a second, looking back up at you and seeing you slightly shaking from the cold still. Finally, he nodded, gesturing toward the couch at the other end of the study which had a very thick blanket laying atop it.
You scurried over, wanting to get out of his study as soon as possible, but Anthony's voice stopped you.
"I'm nearly done, if you'd like to wait for a few minutes, I can walk you back to your room."
You sent him a questioning look, but he just shrugged.
"It's quite late," he repeated, as if that would provide an explanation, and promptly returned to his work.
To be frank, you were too tired to care, and you knew that Anthony would put up a fight if you disagreed with him, so you sat down anyway. Draping the blanket across your shoulders, you sat down on the couch and stared at Anthony. It had been months since you had the opportunity to just look at him, and you had forgotten how much you truly desired him.
Even as your eyes grew heavy and you sank deeper into the cushions, you couldn't help the warm feeling that came over you every time you thought about that night with him on the floor of your library.
The next thing you knew, you were in Anthony's arms as he lowered you gently on your bed.
"I didn't realize I had fallen asleep," you whispered, rubbing your eyes sleepily.
"It's no bother," he whispered back, pulling the covers around you and tucking the blanket up to your chin.
As he turned to leave you grabbed his hand, and though he could have easily kept walking away, he sat down on the side of your bed, looking down at you expectantly.
You were half asleep and fighting to keep your eyes open, but you wanted him to know. "I wish things could be different," you spoke softly.
Anthony smiled sadly at you, saying nothing but leaning down to plant a tender kiss on your forehead before he stood to leave. You fell asleep before he even reached the door.Â
â
previous part || next part || buy me a ko-fi!
Turn on post notifications for @bosbas-library to stay updated when I post!
pairing:Â anthony bridgerton x fem!daphne's best friend!reader
WC:Â
Warnings:Â period-typical gender roles, idiots in love, we are getting somewhere!!, still a lot of pining ofc
Summary:Â At her wit's end after Anthony's multiple attempts to scare away her suitors, Daphne employs her best friend's help to keep her brother distracted while she tries to find a husband. It's a foolproof plan, except it ends up working a little too well. (or, a Bridgerton version of The Taming of the Shrew/10 things I hate about you)
December 18, 1812 - Tensions had been... high... in the Bridgerton household as of late, to say the least.
The holidays were looming, and with that loomed also the prospect of Anthony spending an entire week with you in his home in the countryside. So naturally, he'd been distracting himself by practically biting the head off of any family member who dared speak with him. A particular fury, though, was reserved for Daphne when she brought you up.
Such an argument happened to be taking place at this very moment. Anthony had made the grave mistake of revealing his plans to leave for Aubrey Hall a few days before the rest of his family in the hopes that it would provide a brief respite from the chaos.
"You're being ridiculous," yelled Daphne, grabbing a cushion off the couch and squeezing it in frustration. "You simply can't deal with your feelings like an adult and you're running away."
"I'm not running away," roared Anthony. "And I've dealt with my feelings plenty. I just can't be bothered to have this conversation for the hundredth time. You're boring, Daphne!"
"Don't you say that to me," the younger Bridgerton fumed, throwing the pillow in her hands at her brother.
Much to her chagrin, Anthony easily dodged it, and the condescending smile he gave her in response was enough for her to let out a strangled scream.
"I will as long as you keep bringing this up," Anthony snapped, nearing his sister and shaking her by the shoulders. "I've had enough of you meddling in my life once again. Let's not forget how it ended the first time."
"It only ended because you wanted it to end," growled Daphne, shoving her brother's arms off her shoulders. "You can't deny it, Anthony. It might have started as a ploy, but what happened after was entirely out of my hands. Is it really worth running away for?"
"For the last time, I'm not running away!" repeated Anthony, grabbing the pillow Daphne had thrown earlier and launching it in his sister's direction.
Unfortunately having been hit by the cushion, Daphne angrily fixed her hair as she looked at her brother. "Don't lie to yourself, Anthony. You only want to avoid Mama and me, who make you actually face your feelings. It's cowardly, just like you are."
But the venom in Daphne's voice didn't seem to penetrate her eldest brother. He'd made his decision, that much was clear, and hopefully, a couple of days of peace and quiet would help him prepare to see your eyes and hear your laugh once again without wanting to run straight into the Thames.
Ignoring his sister's insults, Anthony huffed and straightened out his coat, turning around to leave the room. "I certainly won't be speaking with her while she's at Kent if that's what you're trying to imply."
Daphne could've screamed out of frustration. She opted for something she knew would cut her brother to the bone. "Don't you think you've punished her enough?"
Anthony stopped in his tracks and blinked repeatedly, almost as if he'd been struck.
But Daphne continued. "She's miserable. She can't eat, she can't sleep, she's ridden with guilt and pales at even the slightest mention of you. I've never seen her like this. I haven't heard her laugh in weeks. Don't you think that's enough?"
Anthony turned around slowly to look at his sister, wanting to confirm what she was saying.
Daphne's eyes were clear, pleading.
"I had no idea."
"Of course you didn't. How could you? You leave the room if anyone even says her name."
"I-" tried Anthony, but no coherent sentence came out of his mouth.
"You've punished her enough," repeated Daphne, sighing deeply. "Not to mention how much you've punished yourself. You're allowed to have feelings for someone, Anthony. You're even allowed to pursue them after that. You'd be happier to realize that before you manage to completely ruin your chances with Y/N."
Once again, no words left Anthony's mouth. He was far too choked up to say anything that could have been deemed appropriate at that moment. So he stood there as Daphne pushed past him, standing in dumbfounded silence as he thought about just how much he wished he could go back to that May night when you first asked him to dance.
Perhaps he could have asked you to dance first. Perhaps it wouldn't have mattered. He supposed he'd never know.
---
Standing at the entrance to Aubrey Hall, the Bridgertons' country estate, you found yourself wringing your hands. You were anxious, though you'd never admit it aloud. You usually spent the winter at your own family's house, a tradition more rooted in habit than sentiment. But every Christmas, without fail, you took the short carriage ride to Aubrey Hall and stayed there for a week. It was your annual escape from the echoing silence of a holiday spent alone with your father, who, truthfully, preferred his ledgers to any kind of festivity. Holidays only seemed to remind him of your mother, and he coped in the only way he knew how: by pretending they didn't exist.
Daphne had repeatedly insisted that you were welcome this year. That nothing had changed. That you ought to come, just as you always had, and that everyone, including Anthony, would be happy to see you. You weren't entirely convinced, but you'd chosen to believe her. Or, at least, you were trying to.
The sky above was thick with snow-laden clouds, the air sharp with that particular stillness that came before a storm. It felt fitting, in a wayâ your thoughts were just as restless, your nerves just as unsettled. This was the first time you'd returned to a Bridgerton home since that night. Since everything. And while part of you thrilled at the familiar sight of Aubrey Hall, a quieter, more wounded part was dreading the possibility of seeing him.
Anthony.
And there it was again: that flutter in your chest you wished you could attribute to the cold.
Just as you were about to knock on the door, Anthony opened the door himself and you let out a startled gasp.
He, in turn, looked like he was seeing a ghost.
"Hello," you said awkwardly, not able to tear your gaze away from Anthony's wide eyes.
"I thought you weren't coming," breathed Anthony, completely ignoring your greeting.
"Excuse me? Daphne said-" you coughed, shocked that he wanted you out of his home that badly.
Anthony blinked, coming back to his senses. "I meant I thought you weren't coming today. The rest of the family decided to wait a couple of days for the storm to pass, I suppose I thought you'd do the same."
"They're not here yet?" you squeaked out, genuine dread filling you from head to toe as you realized you and Anthony would truly be alone in his family's country house.
He shook his head, looking at the sky as if to confirm the incoming storm.
You rushed to explain yourself. "It's such a short carriage ride that I thought the weather wouldn't matter so much. I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. I can go back, I'll just tell the driver-" you sputtered.
Anthony screwed his eyes shut briefly and then looked straight into yours. "It's alright," he assured you, almost reaching out to put a comforting hand on your shoulder but retracting it before making any contact. "The storm is about to start anyway, it wouldn't be safe."
You nodded, not quite sure how to proceed. This was the longest conversation you'd had with Anthony since he found out about... well, everything.
He cleared his throat. "Please, come in. I wouldn't want you to catch a chill," he said, stepping aside and offering to take your coat while motioning for his butler to help carry your bags inside.
Once again the two of you were stood, alone, trying to look anywhere but at each other. A heavy silence filled with things left unsaid made it almost impossible to hear your own thoughts, and you ached with the desire to reach out to Anthony for reassurance, much like you had done for a greater part of the summer.
"Well, I'd better be on my way," he said, not providing an explanation for why he was going outside when a powerful storm was clearly about to hit. "I'm certain you know your way around by now, but do let me know if you need anything."
His voice sounded detached, far away, and not at all like the warm tone he used to use when you were whispering together at a ball or sharing a funny story during a promenade. You were torn between wanting to continue speaking with Anthony, if only because it reminded you of how much you did love him, or if you wanted to get away from how cold he was being as soon as possible.
In the end, he made the decision easy for you by leaving without waiting for your response.
A painful reminder of just how damaged your relationship was. Perhaps it was beyond fixing now. It certainly seemed like it.
You sighed and made your way to your bedroom, already dreading the rest of your stay at Aubrey Hall. It was like the life had been taken out of you entirely.
Quietly reaching your door, you decided to stay away from Anthony as much as possible before the rest of his family arrived. It was the least you could do. It was already a burden being here alone with him, and you didn't want to make it worse by actually attempting to speak with him.
---
In the end, your plan failed miserably. It was the middle of the night, and you found yourself shivering from the cold in your bedroom, looking out at the snow swirling around outside. It would have been a beautiful sight if you were not chilled to the bone.
With every passing minute, your resolve to avoid Anthony at all costs was waning. You desperately needed another blanketâ or threeâ and there was no one else you could ask at this hour. It was entirely too late to bother any of the staff, and you were far too exhausted to go downstairs anyway.
As much as you tried to hold off, burying yourself in your sheets and curling into a ball, goosebumps covered your entire body and your teeth were chattering loudly.
Finally, as you felt your feet grow numb, you decided you could wait no longer. Standing up and wiggling your toes, you exited your room to try and find somewhere a blanket might be (or Anthony, whichever came first).
You wandered around aimlessly for a few minutes, not quite thinking clearly. Eventually, you passed Anthony's study and found the light under the door still shining, and you breathed a sigh of relief.
Knocking gingerly, you opened the door slowly to reveal Anthony writing down some notes on his desk before he looked up to see you.
You felt uncomfortable under his gaze, underdressed in your nightgown. He'd seen you naked before, you reminded yourself, and you almost smiled at the absurdity. But it didn't help your nervousness.
"Is something the matter? It's the middle of the night," he said, looking you up and down without restraint.
You shook your head and remembered where you were. "Oh, yes, sorry."
"I wish you'd stop apologizing," he responded darkly and promptly looked back down at what he had been writing.
Your throat went dry, but you'd come this far, you might as well actually tell him why you were here.
Trying to keep your voice level, you explained, "I was just wondering if you had a spare blanket I could use. It's quite cold in my room."
Anthony paused for a second, looking back up at you and seeing you slightly shaking from the cold still. Finally, he nodded, gesturing toward the couch at the other end of the study which had a very thick blanket laying atop it.
You scurried over, wanting to get out of his study as soon as possible, but Anthony's voice stopped you.
"I'm nearly done, if you'd like to wait for a few minutes, I can walk you back to your room."
You sent him a questioning look, but he just shrugged.
"It's quite late," he repeated, as if that would provide an explanation, and promptly returned to his work.
To be frank, you were too tired to care, and you knew that Anthony would put up a fight if you disagreed with him, so you sat down anyway. Draping the blanket across your shoulders, you sat down on the couch and stared at Anthony. It had been months since you had the opportunity to just look at him, and you had forgotten how much you truly desired him.
Even as your eyes grew heavy and you sank deeper into the cushions, you couldn't help the warm feeling that came over you every time you thought about that night with him on the floor of your library.
The next thing you knew, you were in Anthony's arms as he lowered you gently on your bed.
"I didn't realize I had fallen asleep," you whispered, rubbing your eyes sleepily.
"It's no bother," he whispered back, pulling the covers around you and tucking the blanket up to your chin.
As he turned to leave you grabbed his hand, and though he could have easily kept walking away, he sat down on the side of your bed, looking down at you expectantly.
You were half asleep and fighting to keep your eyes open, but you wanted him to know. "I wish things could be different," you spoke softly.
Anthony smiled sadly at you, saying nothing but leaning down to plant a tender kiss on your forehead before he stood to leave. You fell asleep before he even reached the door.Â
â
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pairing:Â anthony bridgerton x fem!daphne's best friend!reader
WC:Â 2.3k
Warnings:Â period-typical gender roles, idiots in love, we are getting somewhere!!, still a lot of pining ofc
Summary:Â At her wit's end after Anthony's multiple attempts to scare away her suitors, Daphne employs her best friend's help to keep her brother distracted while she tries to find a husband. It's a foolproof plan, except it ends up working a little too well. (or, a Bridgerton version of The Taming of the Shrew/10 things I hate about you)
December 18, 1812 - Tensions had been... high... in the Bridgerton household as of late, to say the least.
The holidays were looming, and with that loomed also the prospect of Anthony spending an entire week with you in his home in the countryside. So naturally, he'd been distracting himself by practically biting the head off of any family member who dared speak with him. A particular fury, though, was reserved for Daphne when she brought you up.
Such an argument happened to be taking place at this very moment. Anthony had made the grave mistake of revealing his plans to leave for Aubrey Hall a few days before the rest of his family in the hopes that it would provide a brief respite from the chaos.
"You're being ridiculous," yelled Daphne, grabbing a cushion off the couch and squeezing it in frustration. "You simply can't deal with your feelings like an adult and you're running away."
"I'm not running away," roared Anthony. "And I've dealt with my feelings plenty. I just can't be bothered to have this conversation for the hundredth time. You're boring, Daphne!"
"Don't you say that to me," the younger Bridgerton fumed, throwing the pillow in her hands at her brother.
Much to her chagrin, Anthony easily dodged it, and the condescending smile he gave her in response was enough for her to let out a strangled scream.
"I will as long as you keep bringing this up," Anthony snapped, nearing his sister and shaking her by the shoulders. "I've had enough of you meddling in my life once again. Let's not forget how it ended the first time."
"It only ended because you wanted it to end," growled Daphne, shoving her brother's arms off her shoulders. "You can't deny it, Anthony. It might have started as a ploy, but what happened after was entirely out of my hands. Is it really worth running away for?"
"For the last time, I'm not running away!" repeated Anthony, grabbing the pillow Daphne had thrown earlier and launching it in his sister's direction.
Unfortunately having been hit by the cushion, Daphne angrily fixed her hair as she looked at her brother. "Don't lie to yourself, Anthony. You only want to avoid Mama and me, who make you actually face your feelings. It's cowardly, just like you are."
But the venom in Daphne's voice didn't seem to penetrate her eldest brother. He'd made his decision, that much was clear, and hopefully, a couple of days of peace and quiet would help him prepare to see your eyes and hear your laugh once again without wanting to run straight into the Thames.
Ignoring his sister's insults, Anthony huffed and straightened out his coat, turning around to leave the room. "I certainly won't be speaking with her while she's at Kent if that's what you're trying to imply."
Daphne could've screamed out of frustration. She opted for something she knew would cut her brother to the bone. "Don't you think you've punished her enough?"
Anthony stopped in his tracks and blinked repeatedly, almost as if he'd been struck.
But Daphne continued. "She's miserable. She can't eat, she can't sleep, she's ridden with guilt and pales at even the slightest mention of you. I've never seen her like this. I haven't heard her laugh in weeks. Don't you think that's enough?"
Anthony turned around slowly to look at his sister, wanting to confirm what she was saying.
Daphne's eyes were clear, pleading.
"I had no idea."
"Of course you didn't. How could you? You leave the room if anyone even says her name."
"I-" tried Anthony, but no coherent sentence came out of his mouth.
"You've punished her enough," repeated Daphne, sighing deeply. "Not to mention how much you've punished yourself. You're allowed to have feelings for someone, Anthony. You're even allowed to pursue them after that. You'd be happier to realize that before you manage to completely ruin your chances with Y/N."
Once again, no words left Anthony's mouth. He was far too choked up to say anything that could have been deemed appropriate at that moment. So he stood there as Daphne pushed past him, standing in dumbfounded silence as he thought about just how much he wished he could go back to that May night when you first asked him to dance.
Perhaps he could have asked you to dance first. Perhaps it wouldn't have mattered. He supposed he'd never know.
---
Standing at the entrance to Aubrey Hall, the Bridgertons' country estate, you found yourself wringing your hands. You were anxious, though you'd never admit it aloud. You usually spent the winter at your own family's house, a tradition more rooted in habit than sentiment. But every Christmas, without fail, you took the short carriage ride to Aubrey Hall and stayed there for a week. It was your annual escape from the echoing silence of a holiday spent alone with your father, who, truthfully, preferred his ledgers to any kind of festivity. Holidays only seemed to remind him of your mother, and he coped in the only way he knew how: by pretending they didn't exist.
Daphne had repeatedly insisted that you were welcome this year. That nothing had changed. That you ought to come, just as you always had, and that everyone, including Anthony, would be happy to see you. You weren't entirely convinced, but you'd chosen to believe her. Or, at least, you were trying to.
The sky above was thick with snow-laden clouds, the air sharp with that particular stillness that came before a storm. It felt fitting, in a wayâ your thoughts were just as restless, your nerves just as unsettled. This was the first time you'd returned to a Bridgerton home since that night. Since everything. And while part of you thrilled at the familiar sight of Aubrey Hall, a quieter, more wounded part was dreading the possibility of seeing him.
Anthony.
And there it was again: that flutter in your chest you wished you could attribute to the cold.
Just as you were about to knock on the door, Anthony opened the door himself and you let out a startled gasp.
He, in turn, looked like he was seeing a ghost.
"Hello," you said awkwardly, not able to tear your gaze away from Anthony's wide eyes.
"I thought you weren't coming," breathed Anthony, completely ignoring your greeting.
"Excuse me? Daphne said-" you coughed, shocked that he wanted you out of his home that badly.
Anthony blinked, coming back to his senses. "I meant I thought you weren't coming today. The rest of the family decided to wait a couple of days for the storm to pass, I suppose I thought you'd do the same."
"They're not here yet?" you squeaked out, genuine dread filling you from head to toe as you realized you and Anthony would truly be alone in his family's country house.
He shook his head, looking at the sky as if to confirm the incoming storm.
You rushed to explain yourself. "It's such a short carriage ride that I thought the weather wouldn't matter so much. I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. I can go back, I'll just tell the driver-" you sputtered.
Anthony screwed his eyes shut briefly and then looked straight into yours. "It's alright," he assured you, almost reaching out to put a comforting hand on your shoulder but retracting it before making any contact. "The storm is about to start anyway, it wouldn't be safe."
You nodded, not quite sure how to proceed. This was the longest conversation you'd had with Anthony since he found out about... well, everything.
He cleared his throat. "Please, come in. I wouldn't want you to catch a chill," he said, stepping aside and offering to take your coat while motioning for his butler to help carry your bags inside.
Once again the two of you were stood, alone, trying to look anywhere but at each other. A heavy silence filled with things left unsaid made it almost impossible to hear your own thoughts, and you ached with the desire to reach out to Anthony for reassurance, much like you had done for a greater part of the summer.
"Well, I'd better be on my way," he said, not providing an explanation for why he was going outside when a powerful storm was clearly about to hit. "I'm certain you know your way around by now, but do let me know if you need anything."
His voice sounded detached, far away, and not at all like the warm tone he used to use when you were whispering together at a ball or sharing a funny story during a promenade. You were torn between wanting to continue speaking with Anthony, if only because it reminded you of how much you did love him, or if you wanted to get away from how cold he was being as soon as possible.
In the end, he made the decision easy for you by leaving without waiting for your response.
A painful reminder of just how damaged your relationship was. Perhaps it was beyond fixing now. It certainly seemed like it.
You sighed and made your way to your bedroom, already dreading the rest of your stay at Aubrey Hall. It was like the life had been taken out of you entirely.
Quietly reaching your door, you decided to stay away from Anthony as much as possible before the rest of his family arrived. It was the least you could do. It was already a burden being here alone with him, and you didn't want to make it worse by actually attempting to speak with him.
---
In the end, your plan failed miserably. It was the middle of the night, and you found yourself shivering from the cold in your bedroom, looking out at the snow swirling around outside. It would have been a beautiful sight if you were not chilled to the bone.
With every passing minute, your resolve to avoid Anthony at all costs was waning. You desperately needed another blanketâ or threeâ and there was no one else you could ask at this hour. It was entirely too late to bother any of the staff, and you were far too exhausted to go downstairs anyway.
As much as you tried to hold off, burying yourself in your sheets and curling into a ball, goosebumps covered your entire body and your teeth were chattering loudly.
Finally, as you felt your feet grow numb, you decided you could wait no longer. Standing up and wiggling your toes, you exited your room to try and find somewhere a blanket might be (or Anthony, whichever came first).
You wandered around aimlessly for a few minutes, not quite thinking clearly. Eventually, you passed Anthony's study and found the light under the door still shining, and you breathed a sigh of relief.
Knocking gingerly, you opened the door slowly to reveal Anthony writing down some notes on his desk before he looked up to see you.
You felt uncomfortable under his gaze, underdressed in your nightgown. He'd seen you naked before, you reminded yourself, and you almost smiled at the absurdity. But it didn't help your nervousness.
"Is something the matter? It's the middle of the night," he said, looking you up and down without restraint.
You shook your head and remembered where you were. "Oh, yes, sorry."
"I wish you'd stop apologizing," he responded darkly and promptly looked back down at what he had been writing.
Your throat went dry, but you'd come this far, you might as well actually tell him why you were here.
Trying to keep your voice level, you explained, "I was just wondering if you had a spare blanket I could use. It's quite cold in my room."
Anthony paused for a second, looking back up at you and seeing you slightly shaking from the cold still. Finally, he nodded, gesturing toward the couch at the other end of the study which had a very thick blanket laying atop it.
You scurried over, wanting to get out of his study as soon as possible, but Anthony's voice stopped you.
"I'm nearly done, if you'd like to wait for a few minutes, I can walk you back to your room."
You sent him a questioning look, but he just shrugged.
"It's quite late," he repeated, as if that would provide an explanation, and promptly returned to his work.
To be frank, you were too tired to care, and you knew that Anthony would put up a fight if you disagreed with him, so you sat down anyway. Draping the blanket across your shoulders, you sat down on the couch and stared at Anthony. It had been months since you had the opportunity to just look at him, and you had forgotten how much you truly desired him.
Even as your eyes grew heavy and you sank deeper into the cushions, you couldn't help the warm feeling that came over you every time you thought about that night with him on the floor of your library.
The next thing you knew, you were in Anthony's arms as he lowered you gently on your bed.
"I didn't realize I had fallen asleep," you whispered, rubbing your eyes sleepily.
"It's no bother," he whispered back, pulling the covers around you and tucking the blanket up to your chin.
As he turned to leave you grabbed his hand, and though he could have easily kept walking away, he sat down on the side of your bed, looking down at you expectantly.
You were half asleep and fighting to keep your eyes open, but you wanted him to know. "I wish things could be different," you spoke softly.
Anthony smiled sadly at you, saying nothing but leaning down to plant a tender kiss on your forehead before he stood to leave. You fell asleep before he even reached the door.Â
â
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i absolutely adore love in bloom - it pains me so, but i love it, and i thank you for writing and sharing your work (it felt fitting to talk like this lol but really, thanks <3)
ahhh this is so sweet thank you!!! sending you a smooch
Chapter 8: if I'm dead to you why are you at the wake
series masterlist
previous part || next part
pairing:Â anthony bridgerton x fem!daphne's best friend!reader
WC:Â 1.6k
Warnings:Â period-typical gender roles, idiots in love, the usual pining of courseeee
Summary:Â At her wit's end after Anthony's multiple attempts to scare away her suitors, Daphne employs her best friend's help to keep her brother distracted while she tries to find a husband. It's a foolproof plan, except it ends up working a little too well. (or, a Bridgerton version of The Taming of the Shrew/10 things I hate about you)
September 24, 1812 - It had been two and a half months since Anthony had found out the truth about your intentions with him, and he considered himself to have largely overcome the summerâs chaotic romance. Fake romance, he reminded himself.
It wasnât something he thought about excessively. Perhaps he did think about it every day, and it would be safe to assume that he thought about you every passing hour, but he wouldnât say he thought about you every minute of every day. And that was progress, wasnât it?
At least he had forgiven Daphne, and the siblings had been able to sort out their differences. Though Anthony truly wanted his sister to find a husband she liked in due time, it certainly didnât hurt that she had ended the summer just as unattached and hopeless as him.
âI heard Lady Mitchell got engaged last night,â commented Daphne, who happened to be sitting next to Anthony.Â
âDid she? To that Roberts fellow?â hummed Violet. âHeâs a good man, sheâll certainly be happy sheâs got that sorted.â
âA good man who made her wait six weeks until he proposed,â scoffed Daphne, unimpressed by her friendâs lengthy courtship, especially with how smitten she seemed to be. âPractically unheard of to wait that long this late in the season.â
âHave any of your other friends gotten engaged then?â asked Anthony automatically, the words slipping carelessly out of his mouth.Â
He cringed slightly, looking up from the morning paper to see his sister shooting him an amused glance.Â
âShe hasnât, noâ Daphne responded, her voice soft, akin to when she talked to one of their horses after a tough ride.Â
Immediately, Anthony felt his shoulders release some tension he didnât even know was there.Â
âShame,â he said, making sure to keep his voice light in a desperate attempt to convince his family of his nonchalance.
A beat of silence prompted Anthony to look up and catch the tail end of a knowing look between Daphne and Violet.Â
âIt is!â he insisted, trying to convince himself at the very least. âI hope sheâs found someone who cares about her.â
âShe had,â cut in his sister.Â
Daphne might be Anthony's sister, but was still your best friend, after all. And she was the only one who saw just how miserable both of you were since you had stopped whatever it was you had with Anthony and refused to step foot in the Bridgerton home.
Anthony scoffed, his voice suddenly thick with emotion. âI canât have this conversation again.â
âVery well, then,â pressed Daphne. âThereâs a remarkably easy solution to that problem.â
This earned an irritated groan from Anthony, who was rather tired of his sister trying to convince him to declare his love to you in some grand and extravagant way like you wouldnât just laugh in his face.Â
âIâve told you, itâs for the best, Daphne. And thatâs the end of the discussion. Sheâs not what Iâm looking for in a wife anyway,â Anthony said through gritted teeth.Â
âAnd why not?â asked Violet, scandalized by her sonâs apparent disrespect of someone who was almost a daughter to her. âI know things might have ended on less-than-ideal terms between you but Y/N is still someone to be treated with respect and dignity.â
âItâs not that,â replied Anthony, already feeling a headache coming on.Â
Itâs because I love her, he thought. But of course, he couldnât say that out loud. Not without having the rest of his day taken up by a long lecture from his mother on how fulfilling and special true love could be.Â
He simply didnât care.Â
Not anymore, at least.
Heâd had a taste of being completely head over heels for someone he intended on marrying. He'd had a chance to truly know someone, and consequently be completely in love with them. However, he rather preferred not having a flutter in his stomachâ out of excitement or anxiety he didnât care to find out âevery time he thought of his future with you.Â
Falling in love once had been enough. Anthony had done it. Heâd experienced the love his parents had. And he wasnât itching to experience it again. He could now just focus on finding someone adequate who fit his list of requirements for a Viscountess, which heavens knew you didnât.Â
âWell, whatever the reason is, youâll have to get over it before Christmas,â sniffed Daphne, not in the mood to argue with her brooding brother.Â
âWhy Christmas?â
âBecause Y/N is coming to spend Christmas with us in Kent, like she does every year,â responded Daphne in an obvious tone. The Are you thick? was left unsaid.Â
Now Anthony felt the headache in full force. Of course, heâd forgotten. Well, at least he had a few months to prepare to face you again.Â
---
âAre you quite sure thereâs nothing we can do?â you said, exasperated.
Your carriage had broken down on your way home from the shops, and your father had taken the spare carriage for the day with no hints as to when he would return.Â
âAfraid not, Miss,â said your driver, looking quite apologetic. âI can try to reach the Bridgertons, who donât live too far from here.â
A sharp inhale. âThat wonât be necessary,â you smiled weakly. Youâd rather walk home than risk having to ask Anthony Bridgerton for help.Â
Instead, you leaned against the lopsided carriage and put your head in your hands. A few hours alone with your thoughts wouldnât be the worst thing, would it? Was it really too far to walk? Usually, it wouldnât have been, but the sun was about to set and the chilly November air gave you pause.Â
âY/N? Is that you?â called the unmistakable voice of the oldest Bridgerton brother from atop his riding horse as he slowed down to get a good look.Â
Speak of the devil, you cursed.
âAnthony,â you said, slightly taken aback by how handsome he was.Â
You hadnât seen him outside of the privacy of your imagination in a few months, and his hair was slightly longer than it had been over the summer. It suited him. Well, everything suited him.Â
âIs something the matter with your carriage?â he asked, already hopping down and inspecting the vehicle, which lay in disrepair.Â
âItâs quite alright,â you started, but your driver was too quick.Â
âJust hit a hole in the road and had a bit of a hiccup,â he explained. âIâm afraid thereâs not much I can do right now, we just have to wait for another carriage to come retrieve Lady Y/N.â
âNonsense,â waved Anthony. âI can take her home right now if thatâs alright.â
âThat wonât be necessary,â you said, only to be spoken over once again.
âThank you very much, Mr. Bridgerton. Especially since the sun is going down, itâd be best to get Lady Y/N inside.â
It seemed like you had no choice in the matter. Annoyed, you huffed and crossed your arms, but made your way over to Anthony anyway.Â
âCan you help her on?â Anthony asked your driver, getting back on the horse and shuffling forward so you had enough space.Â
Once you were safely atop the horse, Anthony grabbed your arms and put them around his waist.Â
âJust donât let go,â he warned you. âI know itâs not the most comfortable ride, but itâs the best I can do.â
âI- Itâs fine,â you said, speaking softly lest your voice betrayed your true feelings.Â
You rode the rest of the way in silence. A special kind of hurt bloomed in your chest as you passed the Bridgerton residence, which you once considered your true home over the house you were born in.
You found comfort in holding Anthony, even if only for a moment, and even if only out of necessity. It was surreal to be so close to him again, and you closed your eyes so you could memorize exactly how it felt to feel his heart beating and the rhythm of his chest rising and falling.Â
Youâd long convinced yourself not to think about what could have been, but it hadnât made the feelings go away, and it was lovely to be in Anthonyâs presence for a little while longer.Â
Once you reached your house, Anthony slipped off his horse and held out his hand to help you off as well.Â
As soon as you were stood on solid ground he retracted his hand, and you were left with only the ghost of his touch in your memory.Â
The two of you stared at each other, and you saw an unreadable expression on Anthonyâs face. There was an unmistakable longing, but also something else entirely you werenât sure you had seen before.Â
âThank you,â you finally whispered, the words barely above a whisper. âYou didnât have to do that.â
And it was true. Anthony had been a true gentleman, even in circumstances like these. Curse him for remaining the picture of grace after everything you'd done to him.
âDonât mention it,â he said, his eyes flashing with some unknown emotion.Â
âAnthony-â you started, not entirely sure where you were going with this but wanting to try anyway.Â
But Anthony interrupted gruffly. âI said donât mention it.â
You cleared your throat awkwardly, not used to him being so short with you. You took in a breath, readying yourself for another attempt at something. Begging for his forgiveness, confessing you still loved him, anything at all, really.Â
But before you could open your mouth he had already turned around, not sparing you a second glance as he mounted his horse and headed back, presumably to the Bridgerton house.Â
A choked sob escaped your lips as you saw his figure disappear into the dusk. You supposed this was just how it would be from now on. At least until you moved on and found someone else, which seemed more and more unlikely as the weeks went by.Â
â
previous part || next part || buy me a ko-fi!
Turn on post notifications for @bosbas-library to stay updated when I post!
Chapter 8: if I'm dead to you why are you at the wake
series masterlist
previous part || next part
pairing:Â anthony bridgerton x fem!daphne's best friend!reader
WC:Â 1.6k
Warnings:Â period-typical gender roles, idiots in love, the usual pining of courseeee
Summary:Â At her wit's end after Anthony's multiple attempts to scare away her suitors, Daphne employs her best friend's help to keep her brother distracted while she tries to find a husband. It's a foolproof plan, except it ends up working a little too well. (or, a Bridgerton version of The Taming of the Shrew/10 things I hate about you)
September 24, 1812 - It had been two and a half months since Anthony had found out the truth about your intentions with him, and he considered himself to have largely overcome the summerâs chaotic romance. Fake romance, he reminded himself.
It wasnât something he thought about excessively. Perhaps he did think about it every day, and it would be safe to assume that he thought about you every passing hour, but he wouldnât say he thought about you every minute of every day. And that was progress, wasnât it?
At least he had forgiven Daphne, and the siblings had been able to sort out their differences. Though Anthony truly wanted his sister to find a husband she liked in due time, it certainly didnât hurt that she had ended the summer just as unattached and hopeless as him.
âI heard Lady Mitchell got engaged last night,â commented Daphne, who happened to be sitting next to Anthony.Â
âDid she? To that Roberts fellow?â hummed Violet. âHeâs a good man, sheâll certainly be happy sheâs got that sorted.â
âA good man who made her wait six weeks until he proposed,â scoffed Daphne, unimpressed by her friendâs lengthy courtship, especially with how smitten she seemed to be. âPractically unheard of to wait that long this late in the season.â
âHave any of your other friends gotten engaged then?â asked Anthony automatically, the words slipping carelessly out of his mouth.Â
He cringed slightly, looking up from the morning paper to see his sister shooting him an amused glance.Â
âShe hasnât, noâ Daphne responded, her voice soft, akin to when she talked to one of their horses after a tough ride.Â
Immediately, Anthony felt his shoulders release some tension he didnât even know was there.Â
âShame,â he said, making sure to keep his voice light in a desperate attempt to convince his family of his nonchalance.
A beat of silence prompted Anthony to look up and catch the tail end of a knowing look between Daphne and Violet.Â
âIt is!â he insisted, trying to convince himself at the very least. âI hope sheâs found someone who cares about her.â
âShe had,â cut in his sister.Â
Daphne might be Anthony's sister, but was still your best friend, after all. And she was the only one who saw just how miserable both of you were since you had stopped whatever it was you had with Anthony and refused to step foot in the Bridgerton home.
Anthony scoffed, his voice suddenly thick with emotion. âI canât have this conversation again.â
âVery well, then,â pressed Daphne. âThereâs a remarkably easy solution to that problem.â
This earned an irritated groan from Anthony, who was rather tired of his sister trying to convince him to declare his love to you in some grand and extravagant way like you wouldnât just laugh in his face.Â
âIâve told you, itâs for the best, Daphne. And thatâs the end of the discussion. Sheâs not what Iâm looking for in a wife anyway,â Anthony said through gritted teeth.Â
âAnd why not?â asked Violet, scandalized by her sonâs apparent disrespect of someone who was almost a daughter to her. âI know things might have ended on less-than-ideal terms between you but Y/N is still someone to be treated with respect and dignity.â
âItâs not that,â replied Anthony, already feeling a headache coming on.Â
Itâs because I love her, he thought. But of course, he couldnât say that out loud. Not without having the rest of his day taken up by a long lecture from his mother on how fulfilling and special true love could be.Â
He simply didnât care.Â
Not anymore, at least.
Heâd had a taste of being completely head over heels for someone he intended on marrying. He'd had a chance to truly know someone, and consequently be completely in love with them. However, he rather preferred not having a flutter in his stomachâ out of excitement or anxiety he didnât care to find out âevery time he thought of his future with you.Â
Falling in love once had been enough. Anthony had done it. Heâd experienced the love his parents had. And he wasnât itching to experience it again. He could now just focus on finding someone adequate who fit his list of requirements for a Viscountess, which heavens knew you didnât.Â
âWell, whatever the reason is, youâll have to get over it before Christmas,â sniffed Daphne, not in the mood to argue with her brooding brother.Â
âWhy Christmas?â
âBecause Y/N is coming to spend Christmas with us in Kent, like she does every year,â responded Daphne in an obvious tone. The Are you thick? was left unsaid.Â
Now Anthony felt the headache in full force. Of course, heâd forgotten. Well, at least he had a few months to prepare to face you again.Â
---
âAre you quite sure thereâs nothing we can do?â you said, exasperated.
Your carriage had broken down on your way home from the shops, and your father had taken the spare carriage for the day with no hints as to when he would return.Â
âAfraid not, Miss,â said your driver, looking quite apologetic. âI can try to reach the Bridgertons, who donât live too far from here.â
A sharp inhale. âThat wonât be necessary,â you smiled weakly. Youâd rather walk home than risk having to ask Anthony Bridgerton for help.Â
Instead, you leaned against the lopsided carriage and put your head in your hands. A few hours alone with your thoughts wouldnât be the worst thing, would it? Was it really too far to walk? Usually, it wouldnât have been, but the sun was about to set and the chilly November air gave you pause.Â
âY/N? Is that you?â called the unmistakable voice of the oldest Bridgerton brother from atop his riding horse as he slowed down to get a good look.Â
Speak of the devil, you cursed.
âAnthony,â you said, slightly taken aback by how handsome he was.Â
You hadnât seen him outside of the privacy of your imagination in a few months, and his hair was slightly longer than it had been over the summer. It suited him. Well, everything suited him.Â
âIs something the matter with your carriage?â he asked, already hopping down and inspecting the vehicle, which lay in disrepair.Â
âItâs quite alright,â you started, but your driver was too quick.Â
âJust hit a hole in the road and had a bit of a hiccup,â he explained. âIâm afraid thereâs not much I can do right now, we just have to wait for another carriage to come retrieve Lady Y/N.â
âNonsense,â waved Anthony. âI can take her home right now if thatâs alright.â
âThat wonât be necessary,â you said, only to be spoken over once again.
âThank you very much, Mr. Bridgerton. Especially since the sun is going down, itâd be best to get Lady Y/N inside.â
It seemed like you had no choice in the matter. Annoyed, you huffed and crossed your arms, but made your way over to Anthony anyway.Â
âCan you help her on?â Anthony asked your driver, getting back on the horse and shuffling forward so you had enough space.Â
Once you were safely atop the horse, Anthony grabbed your arms and put them around his waist.Â
âJust donât let go,â he warned you. âI know itâs not the most comfortable ride, but itâs the best I can do.â
âI- Itâs fine,â you said, speaking softly lest your voice betrayed your true feelings.Â
You rode the rest of the way in silence. A special kind of hurt bloomed in your chest as you passed the Bridgerton residence, which you once considered your true home over the house you were born in.
You found comfort in holding Anthony, even if only for a moment, and even if only out of necessity. It was surreal to be so close to him again, and you closed your eyes so you could memorize exactly how it felt to feel his heart beating and the rhythm of his chest rising and falling.Â
Youâd long convinced yourself not to think about what could have been, but it hadnât made the feelings go away, and it was lovely to be in Anthonyâs presence for a little while longer.Â
Once you reached your house, Anthony slipped off his horse and held out his hand to help you off as well.Â
As soon as you were stood on solid ground he retracted his hand, and you were left with only the ghost of his touch in your memory.Â
The two of you stared at each other, and you saw an unreadable expression on Anthonyâs face. There was an unmistakable longing, but also something else entirely you werenât sure you had seen before.Â
âThank you,â you finally whispered, the words barely above a whisper. âYou didnât have to do that.â
And it was true. Anthony had been a true gentleman, even in circumstances like these. Curse him for remaining the picture of grace after everything you'd done to him.
âDonât mention it,â he said, his eyes flashing with some unknown emotion.Â
âAnthony-â you started, not entirely sure where you were going with this but wanting to try anyway.Â
But Anthony interrupted gruffly. âI said donât mention it.â
You cleared your throat awkwardly, not used to him being so short with you. You took in a breath, readying yourself for another attempt at something. Begging for his forgiveness, confessing you still loved him, anything at all, really.Â
But before you could open your mouth he had already turned around, not sparing you a second glance as he mounted his horse and headed back, presumably to the Bridgerton house.Â
A choked sob escaped your lips as you saw his figure disappear into the dusk. You supposed this was just how it would be from now on. At least until you moved on and found someone else, which seemed more and more unlikely as the weeks went by.Â
â
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Turn on post notifications for @bosbas-library to stay updated when I post!
Chapter 8: if I'm dead to you why are you at the wake
series masterlist
previous part || next part
pairing:Â anthony bridgerton x fem!daphne's best friend!reader
WC:Â 1.6k
Warnings:Â period-typical gender roles, idiots in love, the usual pining of courseeee
Summary:Â At her wit's end after Anthony's multiple attempts to scare away her suitors, Daphne employs her best friend's help to keep her brother distracted while she tries to find a husband. It's a foolproof plan, except it ends up working a little too well. (or, a Bridgerton version of The Taming of the Shrew/10 things I hate about you)
September 24, 1812 - It had been two and a half months since Anthony had found out the truth about your intentions with him, and he considered himself to have largely overcome the summerâs chaotic romance. Fake romance, he reminded himself.
It wasnât something he thought about excessively. Perhaps he did think about it every day, and it would be safe to assume that he thought about you every passing hour, but he wouldnât say he thought about you every minute of every day. And that was progress, wasnât it?
At least he had forgiven Daphne, and the siblings had been able to sort out their differences. Though Anthony truly wanted his sister to find a husband she liked in due time, it certainly didnât hurt that she had ended the summer just as unattached and hopeless as him.
âI heard Lady Mitchell got engaged last night,â commented Daphne, who happened to be sitting next to Anthony.Â
âDid she? To that Roberts fellow?â hummed Violet. âHeâs a good man, sheâll certainly be happy sheâs got that sorted.â
âA good man who made her wait six weeks until he proposed,â scoffed Daphne, unimpressed by her friendâs lengthy courtship, especially with how smitten she seemed to be. âPractically unheard of to wait that long this late in the season.â
âHave any of your other friends gotten engaged then?â asked Anthony automatically, the words slipping carelessly out of his mouth.Â
He cringed slightly, looking up from the morning paper to see his sister shooting him an amused glance.Â
âShe hasnât, noâ Daphne responded, her voice soft, akin to when she talked to one of their horses after a tough ride.Â
Immediately, Anthony felt his shoulders release some tension he didnât even know was there.Â
âShame,â he said, making sure to keep his voice light in a desperate attempt to convince his family of his nonchalance.
A beat of silence prompted Anthony to look up and catch the tail end of a knowing look between Daphne and Violet.Â
âIt is!â he insisted, trying to convince himself at the very least. âI hope sheâs found someone who cares about her.â
âShe had,â cut in his sister.Â
Daphne might be Anthony's sister, but was still your best friend, after all. And she was the only one who saw just how miserable both of you were since you had stopped whatever it was you had with Anthony and refused to step foot in the Bridgerton home.
Anthony scoffed, his voice suddenly thick with emotion. âI canât have this conversation again.â
âVery well, then,â pressed Daphne. âThereâs a remarkably easy solution to that problem.â
This earned an irritated groan from Anthony, who was rather tired of his sister trying to convince him to declare his love to you in some grand and extravagant way like you wouldnât just laugh in his face.Â
âIâve told you, itâs for the best, Daphne. And thatâs the end of the discussion. Sheâs not what Iâm looking for in a wife anyway,â Anthony said through gritted teeth.Â
âAnd why not?â asked Violet, scandalized by her sonâs apparent disrespect of someone who was almost a daughter to her. âI know things might have ended on less-than-ideal terms between you but Y/N is still someone to be treated with respect and dignity.â
âItâs not that,â replied Anthony, already feeling a headache coming on.Â
Itâs because I love her, he thought. But of course, he couldnât say that out loud. Not without having the rest of his day taken up by a long lecture from his mother on how fulfilling and special true love could be.Â
He simply didnât care.Â
Not anymore, at least.
Heâd had a taste of being completely head over heels for someone he intended on marrying. He'd had a chance to truly know someone, and consequently be completely in love with them. However, he rather preferred not having a flutter in his stomachâ out of excitement or anxiety he didnât care to find out âevery time he thought of his future with you.Â
Falling in love once had been enough. Anthony had done it. Heâd experienced the love his parents had. And he wasnât itching to experience it again. He could now just focus on finding someone adequate who fit his list of requirements for a Viscountess, which heavens knew you didnât.Â
âWell, whatever the reason is, youâll have to get over it before Christmas,â sniffed Daphne, not in the mood to argue with her brooding brother.Â
âWhy Christmas?â
âBecause Y/N is coming to spend Christmas with us in Kent, like she does every year,â responded Daphne in an obvious tone. The Are you thick? was left unsaid.Â
Now Anthony felt the headache in full force. Of course, heâd forgotten. Well, at least he had a few months to prepare to face you again.Â
---
âAre you quite sure thereâs nothing we can do?â you said, exasperated.
Your carriage had broken down on your way home from the shops, and your father had taken the spare carriage for the day with no hints as to when he would return.Â
âAfraid not, Miss,â said your driver, looking quite apologetic. âI can try to reach the Bridgertons, who donât live too far from here.â
A sharp inhale. âThat wonât be necessary,â you smiled weakly. Youâd rather walk home than risk having to ask Anthony Bridgerton for help.Â
Instead, you leaned against the lopsided carriage and put your head in your hands. A few hours alone with your thoughts wouldnât be the worst thing, would it? Was it really too far to walk? Usually, it wouldnât have been, but the sun was about to set and the chilly November air gave you pause.Â
âY/N? Is that you?â called the unmistakable voice of the oldest Bridgerton brother from atop his riding horse as he slowed down to get a good look.Â
Speak of the devil, you cursed.
âAnthony,â you said, slightly taken aback by how handsome he was.Â
You hadnât seen him outside of the privacy of your imagination in a few months, and his hair was slightly longer than it had been over the summer. It suited him. Well, everything suited him.Â
âIs something the matter with your carriage?â he asked, already hopping down and inspecting the vehicle, which lay in disrepair.Â
âItâs quite alright,â you started, but your driver was too quick.Â
âJust hit a hole in the road and had a bit of a hiccup,â he explained. âIâm afraid thereâs not much I can do right now, we just have to wait for another carriage to come retrieve Lady Y/N.â
âNonsense,â waved Anthony. âI can take her home right now if thatâs alright.â
âThat wonât be necessary,â you said, only to be spoken over once again.
âThank you very much, Mr. Bridgerton. Especially since the sun is going down, itâd be best to get Lady Y/N inside.â
It seemed like you had no choice in the matter. Annoyed, you huffed and crossed your arms, but made your way over to Anthony anyway.Â
âCan you help her on?â Anthony asked your driver, getting back on the horse and shuffling forward so you had enough space.Â
Once you were safely atop the horse, Anthony grabbed your arms and put them around his waist.Â
âJust donât let go,â he warned you. âI know itâs not the most comfortable ride, but itâs the best I can do.â
âI- Itâs fine,â you said, speaking softly lest your voice betrayed your true feelings.Â
You rode the rest of the way in silence. A special kind of hurt bloomed in your chest as you passed the Bridgerton residence, which you once considered your true home over the house you were born in.
You found comfort in holding Anthony, even if only for a moment, and even if only out of necessity. It was surreal to be so close to him again, and you closed your eyes so you could memorize exactly how it felt to feel his heart beating and the rhythm of his chest rising and falling.Â
Youâd long convinced yourself not to think about what could have been, but it hadnât made the feelings go away, and it was lovely to be in Anthonyâs presence for a little while longer.Â
Once you reached your house, Anthony slipped off his horse and held out his hand to help you off as well.Â
As soon as you were stood on solid ground he retracted his hand, and you were left with only the ghost of his touch in your memory.Â
The two of you stared at each other, and you saw an unreadable expression on Anthonyâs face. There was an unmistakable longing, but also something else entirely you werenât sure you had seen before.Â
âThank you,â you finally whispered, the words barely above a whisper. âYou didnât have to do that.â
And it was true. Anthony had been a true gentleman, even in circumstances like these. Curse him for remaining the picture of grace after everything you'd done to him.
âDonât mention it,â he said, his eyes flashing with some unknown emotion.Â
âAnthony-â you started, not entirely sure where you were going with this but wanting to try anyway.Â
But Anthony interrupted gruffly. âI said donât mention it.â
You cleared your throat awkwardly, not used to him being so short with you. You took in a breath, readying yourself for another attempt at something. Begging for his forgiveness, confessing you still loved him, anything at all, really.Â
But before you could open your mouth he had already turned around, not sparing you a second glance as he mounted his horse and headed back, presumably to the Bridgerton house.Â
A choked sob escaped your lips as you saw his figure disappear into the dusk. You supposed this was just how it would be from now on. At least until you moved on and found someone else, which seemed more and more unlikely as the weeks went by.Â
â
previous part || next part || buy me a ko-fi!
Turn on post notifications for @bosbas-library to stay updated when I post!
Chapter 8: if I'm dead to you why are you at the wake
series masterlist
previous part || next part
pairing:Â anthony bridgerton x fem!daphne's best friend!reader
WC:Â 1.6k
Warnings:Â period-typical gender roles, idiots in love, the usual pining of courseeee
Summary:Â At her wit's end after Anthony's multiple attempts to scare away her suitors, Daphne employs her best friend's help to keep her brother distracted while she tries to find a husband. It's a foolproof plan, except it ends up working a little too well. (or, a Bridgerton version of The Taming of the Shrew/10 things I hate about you)
September 24, 1812 - It had been two and a half months since Anthony had found out the truth about your intentions with him, and he considered himself to have largely overcome the summerâs chaotic romance. Fake romance, he reminded himself.
It wasnât something he thought about excessively. Perhaps he did think about it every day, and it would be safe to assume that he thought about you every passing hour, but he wouldnât say he thought about you every minute of every day. And that was progress, wasnât it?
At least he had forgiven Daphne, and the siblings had been able to sort out their differences. Though Anthony truly wanted his sister to find a husband she liked in due time, it certainly didnât hurt that she had ended the summer just as unattached and hopeless as him.
âI heard Lady Mitchell got engaged last night,â commented Daphne, who happened to be sitting next to Anthony.Â
âDid she? To that Roberts fellow?â hummed Violet. âHeâs a good man, sheâll certainly be happy sheâs got that sorted.â
âA good man who made her wait six weeks until he proposed,â scoffed Daphne, unimpressed by her friendâs lengthy courtship, especially with how smitten she seemed to be. âPractically unheard of to wait that long this late in the season.â
âHave any of your other friends gotten engaged then?â asked Anthony automatically, the words slipping carelessly out of his mouth.Â
He cringed slightly, looking up from the morning paper to see his sister shooting him an amused glance.Â
âShe hasnât, noâ Daphne responded, her voice soft, akin to when she talked to one of their horses after a tough ride.Â
Immediately, Anthony felt his shoulders release some tension he didnât even know was there.Â
âShame,â he said, making sure to keep his voice light in a desperate attempt to convince his family of his nonchalance.
A beat of silence prompted Anthony to look up and catch the tail end of a knowing look between Daphne and Violet.Â
âIt is!â he insisted, trying to convince himself at the very least. âI hope sheâs found someone who cares about her.â
âShe had,â cut in his sister.Â
Daphne might be Anthony's sister, but was still your best friend, after all. And she was the only one who saw just how miserable both of you were since you had stopped whatever it was you had with Anthony and refused to step foot in the Bridgerton home.
Anthony scoffed, his voice suddenly thick with emotion. âI canât have this conversation again.â
âVery well, then,â pressed Daphne. âThereâs a remarkably easy solution to that problem.â
This earned an irritated groan from Anthony, who was rather tired of his sister trying to convince him to declare his love to you in some grand and extravagant way like you wouldnât just laugh in his face.Â
âIâve told you, itâs for the best, Daphne. And thatâs the end of the discussion. Sheâs not what Iâm looking for in a wife anyway,â Anthony said through gritted teeth.Â
âAnd why not?â asked Violet, scandalized by her sonâs apparent disrespect of someone who was almost a daughter to her. âI know things might have ended on less-than-ideal terms between you but Y/N is still someone to be treated with respect and dignity.â
âItâs not that,â replied Anthony, already feeling a headache coming on.Â
Itâs because I love her, he thought. But of course, he couldnât say that out loud. Not without having the rest of his day taken up by a long lecture from his mother on how fulfilling and special true love could be.Â
He simply didnât care.Â
Not anymore, at least.
Heâd had a taste of being completely head over heels for someone he intended on marrying. He'd had a chance to truly know someone, and consequently be completely in love with them. However, he rather preferred not having a flutter in his stomachâ out of excitement or anxiety he didnât care to find out âevery time he thought of his future with you.Â
Falling in love once had been enough. Anthony had done it. Heâd experienced the love his parents had. And he wasnât itching to experience it again. He could now just focus on finding someone adequate who fit his list of requirements for a Viscountess, which heavens knew you didnât.Â
âWell, whatever the reason is, youâll have to get over it before Christmas,â sniffed Daphne, not in the mood to argue with her brooding brother.Â
âWhy Christmas?â
âBecause Y/N is coming to spend Christmas with us in Kent, like she does every year,â responded Daphne in an obvious tone. The Are you thick? was left unsaid.Â
Now Anthony felt the headache in full force. Of course, heâd forgotten. Well, at least he had a few months to prepare to face you again.Â
---
âAre you quite sure thereâs nothing we can do?â you said, exasperated.
Your carriage had broken down on your way home from the shops, and your father had taken the spare carriage for the day with no hints as to when he would return.Â
âAfraid not, Miss,â said your driver, looking quite apologetic. âI can try to reach the Bridgertons, who donât live too far from here.â
A sharp inhale. âThat wonât be necessary,â you smiled weakly. Youâd rather walk home than risk having to ask Anthony Bridgerton for help.Â
Instead, you leaned against the lopsided carriage and put your head in your hands. A few hours alone with your thoughts wouldnât be the worst thing, would it? Was it really too far to walk? Usually, it wouldnât have been, but the sun was about to set and the chilly November air gave you pause.Â
âY/N? Is that you?â called the unmistakable voice of the oldest Bridgerton brother from atop his riding horse as he slowed down to get a good look.Â
Speak of the devil, you cursed.
âAnthony,â you said, slightly taken aback by how handsome he was.Â
You hadnât seen him outside of the privacy of your imagination in a few months, and his hair was slightly longer than it had been over the summer. It suited him. Well, everything suited him.Â
âIs something the matter with your carriage?â he asked, already hopping down and inspecting the vehicle, which lay in disrepair.Â
âItâs quite alright,â you started, but your driver was too quick.Â
âJust hit a hole in the road and had a bit of a hiccup,â he explained. âIâm afraid thereâs not much I can do right now, we just have to wait for another carriage to come retrieve Lady Y/N.â
âNonsense,â waved Anthony. âI can take her home right now if thatâs alright.â
âThat wonât be necessary,â you said, only to be spoken over once again.
âThank you very much, Mr. Bridgerton. Especially since the sun is going down, itâd be best to get Lady Y/N inside.â
It seemed like you had no choice in the matter. Annoyed, you huffed and crossed your arms, but made your way over to Anthony anyway.Â
âCan you help her on?â Anthony asked your driver, getting back on the horse and shuffling forward so you had enough space.Â
Once you were safely atop the horse, Anthony grabbed your arms and put them around his waist.Â
âJust donât let go,â he warned you. âI know itâs not the most comfortable ride, but itâs the best I can do.â
âI- Itâs fine,â you said, speaking softly lest your voice betrayed your true feelings.Â
You rode the rest of the way in silence. A special kind of hurt bloomed in your chest as you passed the Bridgerton residence, which you once considered your true home over the house you were born in.
You found comfort in holding Anthony, even if only for a moment, and even if only out of necessity. It was surreal to be so close to him again, and you closed your eyes so you could memorize exactly how it felt to feel his heart beating and the rhythm of his chest rising and falling.Â
Youâd long convinced yourself not to think about what could have been, but it hadnât made the feelings go away, and it was lovely to be in Anthonyâs presence for a little while longer.Â
Once you reached your house, Anthony slipped off his horse and held out his hand to help you off as well.Â
As soon as you were stood on solid ground he retracted his hand, and you were left with only the ghost of his touch in your memory.Â
The two of you stared at each other, and you saw an unreadable expression on Anthonyâs face. There was an unmistakable longing, but also something else entirely you werenât sure you had seen before.Â
âThank you,â you finally whispered, the words barely above a whisper. âYou didnât have to do that.â
And it was true. Anthony had been a true gentleman, even in circumstances like these. Curse him for remaining the picture of grace after everything you'd done to him.
âDonât mention it,â he said, his eyes flashing with some unknown emotion.Â
âAnthony-â you started, not entirely sure where you were going with this but wanting to try anyway.Â
But Anthony interrupted gruffly. âI said donât mention it.â
You cleared your throat awkwardly, not used to him being so short with you. You took in a breath, readying yourself for another attempt at something. Begging for his forgiveness, confessing you still loved him, anything at all, really.Â
But before you could open your mouth he had already turned around, not sparing you a second glance as he mounted his horse and headed back, presumably to the Bridgerton house.Â
A choked sob escaped your lips as you saw his figure disappear into the dusk. You supposed this was just how it would be from now on. At least until you moved on and found someone else, which seemed more and more unlikely as the weeks went by.Â
â
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Turn on post notifications for @bosbas-library to stay updated when I post!
Chapter 7: I wish I could un-recall how we almost had it all
series masterlist
previous part || next part
pairing:Â anthony bridgerton x fem!daphne's best friend!reader WC:Â 1.2k words
Warnings:Â period-typical gender roles, idiots in love, mentions of pregnancy, ANGST!!!!!
Summary:Â At her wit's end after Anthony's multiple attempts to scare away her suitors, Daphne employs her best friend's help to keep her brother distracted while she tries to find a husband. It's a foolproof plan, except it ends up working a little too well. (or, a Bridgerton version of The Taming of the Shrew/10 things I hate about you)
July 13, 1812 - Waking up the past few days had been absolute torture. But waking up today and seeing the blood on your sheets was worse than any morning youâd ever had.Â
A part of you was relieved. You had gotten your courses. You werenât with child. You didnât have to trap Anthony in a loveless marriage.
It was good news, right?
Thatâs what you were desperately repeating to yourself over and over as you sat in your bed sobbing uncontrollably.Â
It truly was over then. There was no baby, and there would be no marriage. Youâd be lucky if Anthony ever talked to you again, though you wouldnât blame him if he didnât. All because you thought it would be a fun game to dabble with someoneâs real feelings.
What's more, your courses actually came a few days early. It was like the universe was completely and categorically rejecting the idea of a happy ending with Anthony. It was what you deserved, you supposed. At least the misery of not knowing was over.
To make matters worse, your crying was so loud that your father popped his head into your room, an extremely unusual occurrence.Â
âWhat is all this ruckus?â he asked. âIs everything alright?â
Not having the time, energy, or desire to fully explain what was happening, and doubting heâd care, you told your father, âMy courses came.â
âOh,â he said, suddenly growing very uncomfortable. âIâll leave you to it, then.âÂ
Predictable. He wasnât one to get involved with womenâs issues.
---
You had given yourself a few hours to mope around your home, mourning the loss of what could have been. But it was time to face your fears, and you headed over to the Bridgerton residence.
It was usually only a few minutes' walk, but you were dreading the impending conversation so much that it was almost fifteen minutes before you reached their front door. Â
What scared you the most was that you had no idea how Anthony was going to take the news. You knew the responsibility was yours to go to the Bridgerton home and inform him, but you hadnât seen him or Daphne since the day after your fateful ball.
As you reached their front entrance, before you could even knock, the door burst open and you saw Anthony standing in front of you.Â
Not that you were in a position to enjoy it, but he looked exceedingly handsome. He was clearly on his way out to go to town, and you didnât know whether to curse or thank the universe for putting him in front of you before he left for the day.Â
âOh!â you gasped, startled. âUm, hello, Anthony,â you greeted awkwardly.Â
He just stared back, unmoving. He hadnât been expecting to talk to you for at least a few more days and was entirely unprepared now.
âDaphneâs just inside,â he said after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence.Â
âNo, Iâm here to speak with you, actually.â
âOh,â he said simply, not giving away what he was feeling. It hadn't even been a week! Surely there was no news yet? Surely he could still hold out some hope?
He stepped outside and closed the door, allowing you two some privacy for the conversation you were about to have.
âI- Well, I just wanted to inform you that my courses came this morning,â you said, your voice wavering.Â
âOh,â he repeated.Â
Was that really all he was going to say?
You cleared your throat stiffly. âAnd evidently no one saw us sneak off to the library the other night, otherwise weâd have heard the rumors by now.â A pause. âI suppose this means you wonât need to propose, then. And we can go our own ways.â
It was like your words ignited something in Anthony, and he finally moved to cross his arms in front of his chest, a prominent scowl on his face.Â
âI suppose it does. Congratulations. Your little plan worked perfectly, then. Daphne was able to court a scumbag while you distracted me and remained perfectly detached.â
His angry words cut you deep. Almost out of habit when you needed comfort, you reached out for his broken hand that was still bandaged. He took a step back, almost looking panicked as he eyed your outstretched arm.Â
You felt tears welling in your eyes, but you didnât let them fall. You deserved no sympathy from the man in front of you.
Blinking them away, you sniffed. âAnthony, I know nothing I say will ever make it up to you but I truly am sorry. It was never my intention to let it go on for so long.â
âAnd yet you did.â
âI did,â you replied, feeling ashamed. âBut you must know, the time we did have together-â
But Anthony interrupted before you could continue. âIâll be moving into bachelorâs lodgings as soon as possible. That way our paths wonât have to cross again unless thereâs a big family event. I wish you the best in your future endeavors, and I sincerely hope you find a love match eventually.â
You choked back a sob. âIs this truly the last time weâll talk?â
âI can hope,â he responded, cruelly echoing back the words you had said to him a few days ago.Â
And with that, he pushed past you down the stairs, going toward his waiting carriage, not sparing you a second glance.
You were left crying outside of the Bridgertonsâ door, head in your hands as you realized the gravity of Anthonyâs statement.Â
That was exactly how Violet found you twenty minutes later.Â
âOh no, my Y/N, what happened?â she asked, placing a comforting arm around your shoulders.Â
You could only turn and sob into her shoulder, too shaken up to form any coherent words.Â
Violet, bless her, rubbed your back soothingly as she led you back into her home, her afternoon of shopping completely forgotten now.
âWhy donât we ring for some tea and you can talk to me and Daphne about whatâs bothering you?â
An hour later you had calmed down considerably and Daphne was in the middle of apologizing profusely for telling Anthony while Violet tried to process the information her daughter and her best friend had just divulged. You had scrubbed any mention of your escapade with Anthony from the story you told his mother, of course. But most other details remained accurate.
âItâs not your fault,â you waved away Daphneâs apology. âYou only told him the truth. He was going to find out eventually, one way or another.â
âBut it was my idea in the first place!â she insisted. âAnd a stupid one at that, seeing how things ended with Phillip.â
âWhich we are not done discussing,â interjected Violet, still horrified that someone like him could treat her daughter that way.Â
âRegardless, I would have come up with the idea myself and gone through with it if you hadn't,â you reassured her. âWhatâs done is done. Iâm only sorry heâll be leaving home.â
Daphne laughed and shook her head. âHeâd been wanting to leave for ages. Besides, itâll be nice to have some more peace and quiet around here.â
Always one to stay on topic, Violet kept up her line of questioning. âWhy donât the two of you get married still? Your feelings for him are clearly real, no matter how you ended up having them.â
Surprisingly, tears welled up in your eyes again After the day youâd had, you didnât think you had any left in you, but the situation was just too dire not to cry over it. âHe told me earlier he wishes to never speak with me again.â
Violet gasped. âThat canât be right, he would never say such a thing!â
You could only nod glumly, remembering his cold, uncaring eyes as he moved past you earlier that day.Â
âI just canât believe I ruined it all,â you cried. âIt would have been so wonderful if only I hadnât acted so carelessly.â
Violet tsked. âYou wouldnât have even looked at him in a romantic light if it werenât for your silly plan. Who knows if things would have really been different.â
âAt least I wouldnât have a broken heart,â you said softly, wistfully looking out the window.Â
âThere is simply no world in which he can just forget how he feels about you,â insisted Daphne, trying to stay hopeful.Â
âThereâs nothing left,â you said, well aware of the situation you were in and rejecting any fantasies that would make you feel better temporarily. âI made the choices I made and I must live with them now.â
---
âWhy is Y/N never round for dinner anymore?â asked Hyacinth suddenly one night.Â
âYes, I miss playing chess with her before I go to bed. No one else here seems to want to play,â complained Gregory, in a rare moment of agreement with his youngest sister.
âShe does seem to have very suddenly stopped showing up,â said Francesca. She eyed Daphne and Anthony suspiciously, knowing one of the two was bound to be the cause of your absence.Â
âWell, I certainly didnât tell her to stop coming,â said Daphne, glaring at her older brother.Â
Anthony laughed coldly. âThatâs rich coming from you. You know exactly why she stopped showing up, and itâs not exactly my fault.â
âAnthony!â exclaimed Violet, shocked at the sudden outburst of anger.
âForget it,â he grumbled, standing up from the dinner table and storming off to his study.
A few moments later, Violet knocked on the door of Anthonyâs study, not waiting for a response before she slipped in and closed the door behind her.Â
âYouâre not truly angry,â she stated, not even posing it as a question.
âYes, I am,â Anthony insisted.Â
âYour anger conceals something deeper, and it might do you some good to let it out.â
âNo, it doesnât,â Anthony responded, but his voice lacked his previous conviction. âI am angry,â he repeated, his voice breaking as he tried to convince himself of his feelings.Â
âItâs not a crime to feel things for someone, you know. Even when they donât work out.â
âWhat is the point then? If they amount to nothing?â Anthony pressed, struggling to find a greater reason for the complete heartbreak he felt day in and day out.Â
It was torture to be away from you, to be sure. But he knew he would never be able to hold it together if he saw you in the flesh. Regardless, that didnât stop him from missing you. Your rosy perfume. The way you threw your head back when you laughed. How tightly your hands held his hand when you were anxious about something.
And that was what killed him. Heâd had real and profound feelings for you. He thought that was it. That you were it. Heâd thought he'd found the person he was going to marry. Heâd found his present and his future and everything in betweem.
But it had all been a lie. And so the anger kept coming back. And he could do nothing to stop it.Â
It was misplaced anger, he knew. At you, at the world, at the fact that your courses had come and you would not have his child, and at the fact that he could never have you in a way that truly mattered.Â
âThat is exactly what makes you human, Anthony. You canât go around life expecting to never be hurt. Itâs a rare thing to feel that way about someone.â
âGood. Iâm glad itâs rare. I wouldnât wish this on my worst enemy.â
âAnthony!â Violet gasped, scandalized. âLove is not a curse.â
âIt certainly feels like one.â
âYou could still be with her, you know. All this misplaced love, itâll do you no good to keep it bottled up.â
âI canât,â insisted Anthony, his voice breaking again. âI wanted to marry her still. I even asked her. I thought sheâd love me back if I only had some time to convince her. But she didnât want to marry me,â he confessed, succumbing to his feelings and putting his head in his hands as he cried.Â
âWhy donât you try talking to her again?â suggested Violet, rubbing her sonâs back comfortingly.Â
âI canât,â he replied, rubbing his eyes. âItâs for the better.â
â
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Chapter 7: I wish I could un-recall how we almost had it all
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pairing:Â anthony bridgerton x fem!daphne's best friend!reader WC:Â 1.2k words
Warnings:Â period-typical gender roles, idiots in love, mentions of pregnancy, ANGST!!!!!
Summary:Â At her wit's end after Anthony's multiple attempts to scare away her suitors, Daphne employs her best friend's help to keep her brother distracted while she tries to find a husband. It's a foolproof plan, except it ends up working a little too well. (or, a Bridgerton version of The Taming of the Shrew/10 things I hate about you)
July 13, 1812 - Waking up the past few days had been absolute torture. But waking up today and seeing the blood on your sheets was worse than any morning youâd ever had.Â
A part of you was relieved. You had gotten your courses. You werenât with child. You didnât have to trap Anthony in a loveless marriage.
It was good news, right?
Thatâs what you were desperately repeating to yourself over and over as you sat in your bed sobbing uncontrollably.Â
It truly was over then. There was no baby, and there would be no marriage. Youâd be lucky if Anthony ever talked to you again, though you wouldnât blame him if he didnât. All because you thought it would be a fun game to dabble with someoneâs real feelings.
What's more, your courses actually came a few days early. It was like the universe was completely and categorically rejecting the idea of a happy ending with Anthony. It was what you deserved, you supposed. At least the misery of not knowing was over.
To make matters worse, your crying was so loud that your father popped his head into your room, an extremely unusual occurrence.Â
âWhat is all this ruckus?â he asked. âIs everything alright?â
Not having the time, energy, or desire to fully explain what was happening, and doubting heâd care, you told your father, âMy courses came.â
âOh,â he said, suddenly growing very uncomfortable. âIâll leave you to it, then.âÂ
Predictable. He wasnât one to get involved with womenâs issues.
---
You had given yourself a few hours to mope around your home, mourning the loss of what could have been. But it was time to face your fears, and you headed over to the Bridgerton residence.
It was usually only a few minutes' walk, but you were dreading the impending conversation so much that it was almost fifteen minutes before you reached their front door. Â
What scared you the most was that you had no idea how Anthony was going to take the news. You knew the responsibility was yours to go to the Bridgerton home and inform him, but you hadnât seen him or Daphne since the day after your fateful ball.
As you reached their front entrance, before you could even knock, the door burst open and you saw Anthony standing in front of you.Â
Not that you were in a position to enjoy it, but he looked exceedingly handsome. He was clearly on his way out to go to town, and you didnât know whether to curse or thank the universe for putting him in front of you before he left for the day.Â
âOh!â you gasped, startled. âUm, hello, Anthony,â you greeted awkwardly.Â
He just stared back, unmoving. He hadnât been expecting to talk to you for at least a few more days and was entirely unprepared now.
âDaphneâs just inside,â he said after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence.Â
âNo, Iâm here to speak with you, actually.â
âOh,â he said simply, not giving away what he was feeling. It hadn't even been a week! Surely there was no news yet? Surely he could still hold out some hope?
He stepped outside and closed the door, allowing you two some privacy for the conversation you were about to have.
âI- Well, I just wanted to inform you that my courses came this morning,â you said, your voice wavering.Â
âOh,â he repeated.Â
Was that really all he was going to say?
You cleared your throat stiffly. âAnd evidently no one saw us sneak off to the library the other night, otherwise weâd have heard the rumors by now.â A pause. âI suppose this means you wonât need to propose, then. And we can go our own ways.â
It was like your words ignited something in Anthony, and he finally moved to cross his arms in front of his chest, a prominent scowl on his face.Â
âI suppose it does. Congratulations. Your little plan worked perfectly, then. Daphne was able to court a scumbag while you distracted me and remained perfectly detached.â
His angry words cut you deep. Almost out of habit when you needed comfort, you reached out for his broken hand that was still bandaged. He took a step back, almost looking panicked as he eyed your outstretched arm.Â
You felt tears welling in your eyes, but you didnât let them fall. You deserved no sympathy from the man in front of you.
Blinking them away, you sniffed. âAnthony, I know nothing I say will ever make it up to you but I truly am sorry. It was never my intention to let it go on for so long.â
âAnd yet you did.â
âI did,â you replied, feeling ashamed. âBut you must know, the time we did have together-â
But Anthony interrupted before you could continue. âIâll be moving into bachelorâs lodgings as soon as possible. That way our paths wonât have to cross again unless thereâs a big family event. I wish you the best in your future endeavors, and I sincerely hope you find a love match eventually.â
You choked back a sob. âIs this truly the last time weâll talk?â
âI can hope,â he responded, cruelly echoing back the words you had said to him a few days ago.Â
And with that, he pushed past you down the stairs, going toward his waiting carriage, not sparing you a second glance.
You were left crying outside of the Bridgertonsâ door, head in your hands as you realized the gravity of Anthonyâs statement.Â
That was exactly how Violet found you twenty minutes later.Â
âOh no, my Y/N, what happened?â she asked, placing a comforting arm around your shoulders.Â
You could only turn and sob into her shoulder, too shaken up to form any coherent words.Â
Violet, bless her, rubbed your back soothingly as she led you back into her home, her afternoon of shopping completely forgotten now.
âWhy donât we ring for some tea and you can talk to me and Daphne about whatâs bothering you?â
An hour later you had calmed down considerably and Daphne was in the middle of apologizing profusely for telling Anthony while Violet tried to process the information her daughter and her best friend had just divulged. You had scrubbed any mention of your escapade with Anthony from the story you told his mother, of course. But most other details remained accurate.
âItâs not your fault,â you waved away Daphneâs apology. âYou only told him the truth. He was going to find out eventually, one way or another.â
âBut it was my idea in the first place!â she insisted. âAnd a stupid one at that, seeing how things ended with Phillip.â
âWhich we are not done discussing,â interjected Violet, still horrified that someone like him could treat her daughter that way.Â
âRegardless, I would have come up with the idea myself and gone through with it if you hadn't,â you reassured her. âWhatâs done is done. Iâm only sorry heâll be leaving home.â
Daphne laughed and shook her head. âHeâd been wanting to leave for ages. Besides, itâll be nice to have some more peace and quiet around here.â
Always one to stay on topic, Violet kept up her line of questioning. âWhy donât the two of you get married still? Your feelings for him are clearly real, no matter how you ended up having them.â
Surprisingly, tears welled up in your eyes again After the day youâd had, you didnât think you had any left in you, but the situation was just too dire not to cry over it. âHe told me earlier he wishes to never speak with me again.â
Violet gasped. âThat canât be right, he would never say such a thing!â
You could only nod glumly, remembering his cold, uncaring eyes as he moved past you earlier that day.Â
âI just canât believe I ruined it all,â you cried. âIt would have been so wonderful if only I hadnât acted so carelessly.â
Violet tsked. âYou wouldnât have even looked at him in a romantic light if it werenât for your silly plan. Who knows if things would have really been different.â
âAt least I wouldnât have a broken heart,â you said softly, wistfully looking out the window.Â
âThere is simply no world in which he can just forget how he feels about you,â insisted Daphne, trying to stay hopeful.Â
âThereâs nothing left,â you said, well aware of the situation you were in and rejecting any fantasies that would make you feel better temporarily. âI made the choices I made and I must live with them now.â
---
âWhy is Y/N never round for dinner anymore?â asked Hyacinth suddenly one night.Â
âYes, I miss playing chess with her before I go to bed. No one else here seems to want to play,â complained Gregory, in a rare moment of agreement with his youngest sister.
âShe does seem to have very suddenly stopped showing up,â said Francesca. She eyed Daphne and Anthony suspiciously, knowing one of the two was bound to be the cause of your absence.Â
âWell, I certainly didnât tell her to stop coming,â said Daphne, glaring at her older brother.Â
Anthony laughed coldly. âThatâs rich coming from you. You know exactly why she stopped showing up, and itâs not exactly my fault.â
âAnthony!â exclaimed Violet, shocked at the sudden outburst of anger.
âForget it,â he grumbled, standing up from the dinner table and storming off to his study.
A few moments later, Violet knocked on the door of Anthonyâs study, not waiting for a response before she slipped in and closed the door behind her.Â
âYouâre not truly angry,â she stated, not even posing it as a question.
âYes, I am,â Anthony insisted.Â
âYour anger conceals something deeper, and it might do you some good to let it out.â
âNo, it doesnât,â Anthony responded, but his voice lacked his previous conviction. âI am angry,â he repeated, his voice breaking as he tried to convince himself of his feelings.Â
âItâs not a crime to feel things for someone, you know. Even when they donât work out.â
âWhat is the point then? If they amount to nothing?â Anthony pressed, struggling to find a greater reason for the complete heartbreak he felt day in and day out.Â
It was torture to be away from you, to be sure. But he knew he would never be able to hold it together if he saw you in the flesh. Regardless, that didnât stop him from missing you. Your rosy perfume. The way you threw your head back when you laughed. How tightly your hands held his hand when you were anxious about something.
And that was what killed him. Heâd had real and profound feelings for you. He thought that was it. That you were it. Heâd thought he'd found the person he was going to marry. Heâd found his present and his future and everything in betweem.
But it had all been a lie. And so the anger kept coming back. And he could do nothing to stop it.Â
It was misplaced anger, he knew. At you, at the world, at the fact that your courses had come and you would not have his child, and at the fact that he could never have you in a way that truly mattered.Â
âThat is exactly what makes you human, Anthony. You canât go around life expecting to never be hurt. Itâs a rare thing to feel that way about someone.â
âGood. Iâm glad itâs rare. I wouldnât wish this on my worst enemy.â
âAnthony!â Violet gasped, scandalized. âLove is not a curse.â
âIt certainly feels like one.â
âYou could still be with her, you know. All this misplaced love, itâll do you no good to keep it bottled up.â
âI canât,â insisted Anthony, his voice breaking again. âI wanted to marry her still. I even asked her. I thought sheâd love me back if I only had some time to convince her. But she didnât want to marry me,â he confessed, succumbing to his feelings and putting his head in his hands as he cried.Â
âWhy donât you try talking to her again?â suggested Violet, rubbing her sonâs back comfortingly.Â
âI canât,â he replied, rubbing his eyes. âItâs for the better.â
â
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