sweater weather / anthony bridgerton x oc part 1
since ao3 is currently down atm, i have decided tumblr is the next best thing..
summary: lord anthony bridgerton is an infamous rake who fears love is merely a weakness--a weakness he cannot afford to show. until, a lady he had known since childhood comes back into his life, which makes him come to a realisation: he cannot run away from his feelings, no matter how he tries.
(everything's lowercase. apologies.)
lord anthony bridgerton. eldest son. the 9th viscount. rake.
he did not need love. he was not like his other siblings who seemed so dependent on love. he was perfectly content as a bachelor, even if his siblings and his mother try to convince him otherwise. his prime focus was his family and work--not marriage. love was a waste of time, it only ended in heartache and grief. this was reality. it was not a fairytale, and he pitied whoever thought different.
if he did marry, it was purely business, and he would be clear and direct to whomever was unfortunate enough to marry him. if he did marry, the woman needed a pleasing face, an acceptable wit, and genteel manners enough to credit a viscountess.
"anthony." his mother sighs in exasperation and fondness as she fixes his cravat, only for him to tug at it. "surely, an eligible young debutante will catch your eye tonight, if you gave one a chance." she smiles, but he only shakes his head as he turns to stare at himself in the mirror, his jaw clenching. "mother, i cannot have this talk once more." he sighs as he closes his eyes, lifting up his hand to pinch between his brows.
"once i know you are listening to me, i will stop giving you this said talk." she replies as she tilts her head, "mingle tonight, for me. please, anthony."
he opens his eyes to look at his mother through the mirror, and he reluctantly nods. "fine, just this once." he mumbles, and her smile widens. "thank you."
the danbury ball. it was tedious, these balls. he never saw the appeal--especially now, as a viscount. he was aware of all the watchful eyes of the debutantes, smiling politely at him as if they could even catch his eye. they haven't. he tugs at his cravat in slight frustration, the room feeling as if it was getting slightly warmer. mingle, tonight, for me. his mother's words echoed in his mind, and he sighs. might as well.
he spent the next hour, putting up a facade of interest and politeness. he went around the room, speaking to as many of the debutantes as he could -- but they were all the same. same boring personality, different face and body. this was enough for his mother, right? he did try! if he tried to converse any more, he genuinely felt as if he was about to lose it.
he looks around the room after he finishes talking to the last debutante, or so he hopes, before his eyes land on a lady he has not spoken to yet. she looked familiar. too familiar. his eyes narrow slightly, before his mouth gapes in realisation. grace darden. a name he has not heard in years. she looked different, in a good way. it seemed the years had done her well. grace darden was one of his good friends growing up, with her family only next door, he saw her often. she made up majority of his childhood, and they were inseparable.
it was after his father, edmund bridgerton, had died, when they grew apart.
"i'm sorry, anthony. i had only found out." she murmurs as she tries to blink back her tears.
she found out she was returning to ireland.
"do not apologise. this was your plan all along." he seethes, "to leave me, you never sought me as a friend! you used me, until you got bored of me, and now you are leaving!"
thinking about it now, his words did not make sense. he was grieving his father, he wasn't thinking at the time. no excuse at all, he had pushed away the closest person he had in his life at the time, and they left on horrible terms.
"anthony, that is not.. that is not it!" she tries to explain, but he shakes his head angrily. "no, grace. no. you know what? you should move away. i only ever needed your presence for when i was bored. you are nothing. nothing, grace."
he winces at the memory, he wishes he could take it all back. he could still remember the door slamming in front of him, he could still remember the realisation that hit him--she was gone forever. that was nine years ago. forever ago, but he would not hold it against her if she held it against him.
stuck with his memories to accompany him, a voice pulls him out.
"anthony." she approaches with a soft smile, and he could feel his heart thump faster.
this feeling. it was merely nostalgia, the fact he missed her and the memory that haunted him. he was getting another chance. the feeling of hope. surely, it was.
or maybe something more. something that lord anthony bridgerton had suppressed for so long, breaking out like a busted dam.
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