Day 4: He Is YOUR Dog

Day 4: He is YOUR dog

Suddenly Hyacinth was in front of him, tugging his sleeve. "Anthony, there is a dog!"

"Hmm?" His eyes followed her pointing to a rotund corgi on a lead that was held by… Miss Sheffield. As if his mind had conjured her. 

Anthony swallowed reflexively. Her head was tilted back, allowing the sun to warm her face. She was wearing deep purple today and was, naturally, as striking as ever. 

"Please may we say hello to the dog?" Hyacinth asked eagerly. "Please, please!" Gregory appeared more interested in the owner than the dog but Anthony decided not to dwell on that, for both their sakes.

There was nothing for it. He'd have no peace either way but at least if they said hello he wouldn't have sullen children on his hands, too. "I think that is a question better directed to his owner. Shall we ask Miss Sheffield?"

That was all the encouragement the young Bridgertons needed. They raced off enthusiastically with Anthony and Nanny following quickly behind, the latter scolding them to walk like ladies and gentlemen. (A bit of a tall order given their ages.)

By the time Anthony arrived, his siblings were foisting a truly spectacular amount of attention upon Miss Sheffield's corgi. He nodded his greeting and she returned it with a curtsey. "Did they at least introduce themselves?" he asked, expression doubtful.

"I believe they were overcome, Mr. Bridgerton." She smiled indulgently toward the youngsters and he had the terrifying thought that she would make a wonderful mother someday. Her expression became tense when she looked at him again. "They are your..?"

"Siblings," he confirmed. 

Only Gregory acknowledged him, waving shyly. "I am most pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Sheffield," he said politely, flushed. 

"And I yours, Mr. Bridgerton," she replied kindly.

Face now fully pink, Gregory muttered something and turned toward the dog. (Overcome indeed.)

There was a long stretch of silence between them that was not precisely comfortable as the pinched look had returned to Miss Sheffield's face. Anthony cast about for something to say that wasn't inane smalltalk. (He had never had the patience for that.) Looking again at his happy family, inspiration finally struck. "Will you not introduce me to your companion?" 

She let out a startled laugh. Well, it was more of an amused huff but Anthony was pleased all the same. "If you wish. This is Newton." The corgi, who had been on his back accepting belly rubs, perked up at his name. The corners of her mouth lifted into a fond smile. "He is an excellent judge of character."

Anthony suspected he had a very similar look on his face. "So he is."

Day 4: Kate and the Bridgertons (Mallet of Death)

Katharine Sheffield walked down the street like she owned it. She was a tall woman-- the heels she wore had her standing easily over six feet. With dark, intelligent eyes that never missed a beat and darker curly hair framing her face, she was striking. Not beautiful exactly but there was something about her.

Colin only met her once but she'd made a strong impression. Judging by the wary look Anthony was giving her, he wasn't the only one who thought that.

"Bridgertons," she nodded once in greeting, "it's been a while."

When Anthony didn't pick up the thread, Colin slapped an obviously fake grin on his face. "Kate. Nearly five years since you testified against me."

Kate smiled back, all sharp edges. "Well, you did steal a painting insured by my employer for several million dollars."

"Allegedly," Anthony interrupted, ever the lawyer.

Kate's gaze jumped to the older brother and narrowed, eyes ice cold. "Allegedly," she repeated dryly.

They stared at each other unblinking for a long moment. "Well, isn't this just a happy reunion..." Colin said in a soto voice.

"Colin," Anthony snapped in a warning tone. He looked back at Kate. "You called for a reason?" he prompted.

Looking a bit like she'd smelled something rotten (and that something was them), Kate nodded. "My company, ARTE Generali, insured a hundred million in non-government Japanese bearer bonds."

Colin whistled. "Samurai bonds. Nice." Two matching glares snapped to his face and he held up his hands innocently. An illusion neither was buying, especially when he decided to ask: "That's a hundred million in yen or U.S. dollars?"

"Dollars," Kate confirmed with an unamused eye roll. No one was calling the FBI over a hundred million yen-- that was pocket change for a company like ARTE Generali.

Head tilted thoughtfully, Colin couldn't help asking, "And what's your cut if you recover them?"

Kate smirked. "Two percent." Colin resisted the urge to whistle again. "Which I only see if we find them, so…" She pulled a manila folder from her bag and handed it to Anthony who immediately flipped it open. "The truck was hijacked in transport, and I think the bonds are somewhere here in New York."

All of the earlier tension seemed to have dissipated as Anthony focused on the business at hand. "Danbury said you believe Nigel Berbrook is involved."

Kate nodded distractedly, something nearby catching her eye.

Anthony handed Colin the file to flip through-- it held pictures of the missing bonds, the truck, Berbrook. "Big international real-estate guy," Colin commented absently as he skimmed the man's biosheet. "He can move them without raising flags."

Kate's sharp gaze cut back to him for a moment. "Yes, he can." She offered another grin that could cut glass. "Excuse me for a moment."

Colin watched as Kate spoke quietly with the valet before glancing surreptitiously at his brother. Anthony looked… well, honestly, Colin wasn't certain what the expression on his brother's face meant. When he turned his gaze back to Kate, she was accepting the keys to an incredibly expensive looking car.

A man in a suit rushed out to the street. "Hey! That's my car! What the hell--?"

"Mr. Hartside, listen to me," Kate said in a confident, no-nonsense tone, "you can change the vin numbers, you can change the grill, the paint-- it's still an Aston Martin Victor. I know because you did not change the electronic vin behind the steering wheel."

The man's face was turning the most interesting magenta color. "You're crazy! You're stealing my car!"

"No, you stole it. I'm taking it back." Hartside reached into his jacket but Kate was faster. She pulled out a baton and made quick work of him, landing her final blow to the shin. Colin winced-- that had to hurt. "You are more than welcome to file a complaint with the FBI," she added, nodding toward them.

Hartside looked at Anthony who was already flashing his badge. "Special Agent Bridgerton, FBI."

The man, whose complexion had made a startling turn from red to white, tried to hurry away despite having been rather effectively hobbled. "This is obviously a misunderstanding. I should…"

Anthony pulled out his cuffs. "You should stop walking and keep your hands where I can see them."

"Yeah, running just annoys him," Colin told Hartside, flashing a charming smile toward his brother. He walked over to Kate who was now leaning against the car watching the arrest with mild interest. "So you're basically a high-class repo person."

Kate's predatory smile returned. "I prefer white-collar bounty hunter."

"Pithy," Anthony grunted as he wrangled Hartside. "Damn it, Kate, do you always have to go for the shins?"

With wide innocent eyes no one who'd witnessed the last five minutes would ever believe, Kate shrugged. "It was my only defense." There was something hard in her tone that hadn't been there before and Colin didn't miss his brother's responding grimace.

Kate pushed herself off the car and pulled a card from her bag. "When you want to talk about that painting, call me." She pressed the card firmly to Colin's chest until he took it but her gaze was on Anthony. "Bridgertons." The corner of her mouth ticked upwards. "Hartside."

She walked around to the open car door, slid inside like she belonged there and drove off. Colin let out a long exhale, relieved she'd left. There was something too perceptive about Katharine Sheffield. She was dangerous.

Day 1: Amma, Appa, Mama

Mary Sharma was not in the habit of eavesdropping on her daughters. In fact, if asked about the possibility of doing so only one day earlier, she would have laughed at the absurdity.

And yet, when she walked past Edwina's door, conveniently cracked open, and heard Kate exclaim, "He humiliated me, bon! Do you not care at all?" she stopped in her tracks.

Surely, she had misheard. When Edwina and Kate returned from the Royal Ascot, they said nothing of any issues arising and claimed it was a lovely afternoon. Edwina even gushed over Kate's pick winning the main event.

Although… had Kate smiled when Edwina mentioned that? Mary was embarrassed to admit that her focus was much more on her younger daughter, so effervescent as she described their afternoon. Kate had not spoken at all until she suggested, in a manner that was less suggestion and more instruction, that they retire upstairs for some rest. That was not an unusual occurrence, so Mary had not given the directive a second thought.

Perhaps, she reflected as she heard Edwina huff petulantly, she should have. "And what alternatives did you leave him, akka?" Edwina countered, sounding surprisingly sulky. "You practically barred him from entry–"

"His lateness barred him from entry." Kate's defensiveness was evident in her tone. She softened her voice as she continued, clearly trying to reason with her sister, "He is wholly unsuitable for you. Surely you must see that."

Edwina's tone held firm. "I do not see that. He assured me that he only wished to spend time with me, something you have tried to prevent. I think that most romantic."

"Romantic?" Kate's cry was filled with incredulity.

Enough. Mary was their mother and this argument did not appear to be resolving itself. She pushed her way into the room to find her daughters facing one another with matching stubborn expressions– not an unusual sight for Kate but for Edwina a bit less in character.

Almost in unison, they turned to face Mary and adopted innocent expressions. It was a little unsettling, truth be told. Kate spoke first, as she always did, "Mama, were you seeking an audience with Edwina? I can–"

"Stay, Kate," Mary said, firm but not unkind. "I believe there is more to today's outing than you shared with me earlier, and I should like to hear about it."

Kate remained in her spot but inclined her head toward Edwina, deferring the spotlight to her younger sister… as she always did. (Had she truly not noticed this?) And Edwina did not question it as her right or privilege; she simply opened her mouth to speak.

Mary was quicker. "No. I should like to hear about it from Kate."

Her elder daughter's jaw clenched and she averted her eyes. "It is of no consequence."

"I shall be the judge of that," Mary insisted firmly. "Tell me what occurred, please."

Where she expected anger or frustration, Mary instead found hurt in Kate's expression, in her glistening gaze. "A Mister Dorset requested an introduction. He pretended at an interest in me but it was a trick. Lord Bridgerton wished to distract me from my duties as chaperone." She looked at the ground. "I was humiliated."

"He had no choice, Mama!" Edwina objected, eyes wide and pleading. "Kate has–"

Kate's gaze remained on the floor but there was a new tension in her. Mary could not recall the last time she saw her eldest so distraught. "Edwina," she scolded, not hiding her disappointment, "there is always a choice where the feelings of others are concerned." Her younger daughter pouted and Mary frowned deeply. Had they protected Edwina so much she could truly not see how upset her sister was?

Kate cleared her throat. "It need not be of any consequence," she repeated, trying to sound unbothered. Trying but not succeeding for Mary could hear the undercurrent of pain she could not mask.

Edwina looked hopeful but Mary shook her head decisively. "I disagree. An underhanded act such as this does not speak well of Lord Bridgerton's character." She looked at her younger daughter. "You would throw over the feelings of your most beloved sister for a man you have met but twice?"

For the first time, Edwina looked less certain. "I– she has said–"

"I heard what your sister said," Mary interrupted, "but look at her. Do you not see how these thoughtless actions have hurt her?"

After a moment's hesitation, Edwina nodded. She looked appropriately chastised, so Mary returned her attention to her elder daughter. "Kate," she drew closer and put her hands on her daughter's shoulders to ensure she held her full attention, "I am sorry that Lord Bridgerton behaved as such. It is unconscionable."

It took several swallows before Kate nodded and said, "Thank you, Mama."

Day 4: "It does not matter what I want."

"You left. You. I wanted to talk! I wanted to work it out. You left, and you didn't seem to want to come back, so I let you go. Why are you being such a jackass? I gave you what you wanted!"

"You think this is what I wanted? I asked you for time but no. Impatient Kate always has to have it her way–"

"Over. The. Line." She took a long deep breath through her nose. "Anthony. I was not about to wait around for a guy who didn't love me to maybe come home."

He recoiled visibly. "What?"

"We were literally a lusty cliche, getting married while shitfaced in Vegas. I get that you didn't want the annulment scandal, and, honestly, I thought I'd be okay with your whole deal, but I'm not like you. I can't compartmentalize and act like I love someone and not have it mean anything. All the flowers and kindness and the press eating it up one day, then cold silence and mocking looks the next. It was suffocating. And then you left when you promised you would be there. 'It can't be love but I'll always take care of you.' Remember? I felt so fucking stupid. How could I stay?"

"I came back," he argued weakly. "I came back to tell you…" He looked at her standing tall, eyebrows high on her forehead. Then he saw her lip wobble ever so slightly– a chink in her armor.

On instinct he stepped toward her, wrapping one hand around the back of her neck. His other hand rested on her waist, holding her gently. When their lips were a hair's breadth away, she stilled. "I need to hear you say it, Anthony. Please."

"I–" The words caught in his throat.

The silence stretched between them and Kate tensed. She stepped back. Her eyes were shining as she looked at him. "Good-bye, Anthony."

At least this time she said it to his face. Maybe that would be enough.

Day 3: "You have no idea how much I want you." (Barista AU)

Anthony and Kate keep running into each other. One of them is more unhappy about it than the other.

Day 1: Kate being Kate (Menace)

Anthony Bridgerton was not hiding. He was the Lord of Aubrey Hall and if he so happened to choose to spend his afternoon seated in his office rather than greeting the arriving guests, that was his prerogative. And he really did have work to get done, which was probably why his mother had only put up token protests at his planned absence.

Of course, he was not actually working, but he was not hiding, either, and that seemed the most important point. It honestly wouldn't have mattered if he'd tried. Where could a man hide from his own dreams? There was no escaping his unconscious-- no settling his mind or body because Kate Sheffield was…

Walking in the gardens right outside his window. Of course she was; an apparition made real before his very eyes.

Kate was facing away from him, walking-- marching, really-- toward his mother's flower garden like it was her job. She never glided or moved at a sedate pace like other women of his acquaintance. Kate strode with purpose. Even without her signature dark, thick curly hair and the soft curve of her waist meeting her bottom (the memory of squeezing said bottom being a favorite to torture himself with), Anthony knew he would have recognized her from her gait alone. 

Did he know Edwina's walk? 

The thought came unbidden to his mind and Anthony frowned momentarily. He had walked with her on several occasions and yet he could not say for certain how she moved. Gracefully, he supposed, as the incomparable must. Probably at a benignly moderate pace befitting a genteel woman of her height. Which was about a half of a head shorter than Kate.

Like clockwork his mind was back on Kate again. He couldn't even see her any longer, she'd made it into the no garden near the tulips. Kate was very fond of tulip style sleeves; he wondered absently if she was also partial to the flowers.

Another unbidden thought came into his mind (did Edwina have a preferred style of sleeve?) but he squashed it ruthlessly. That way led to madness. There would be time aplenty to learn all the intricacies and minutiae of his future bride once they were married.

Anthony stood, suddenly restless. It was no good being cooped up indoors when the weather was so fine. A walk through the gardens would be just the thing. And if he happened to run into Kate, the more the better as it would provide him another opportunity to press his suit. 

His mind flashed to the memory of Kate pressed against him and he shook his head emphatically in an attempt to clear it from his mind. Anthony was pursuing Edwina Sheffield not her stubborn, belligerent, appealing menace of an older sister. (The irony that he had decided to quite literally pursue Kate out of doors was not lost on him.)

Still, it was with supreme confidence that Anthony exited Aubrey Hall and stepped into the sunshine-- the kind of confidence peers of the realm always seemed to be in possession of. He would conquer whatever hold Kate Sheffield had over him and marry her perfectly nice, perfectly bland sister simply because that was what he had decided to do.

He just had to find her first...