Chapter Text
Lady Bridgerton insisted that after Daphne's hasty wedding, it was only right and proper that she host an engagement ball to announce that her son the Viscount Bridgerton would be marrying Miss Katharine Sharma.
When Kate arrived outside the ballroom, Anthony pacing back and forth outside the doors, seemingly uncaring about all the other guests who quizzically passed by him.
He stilled when he saw her, his dark gaze raking over her ball gown, a pale blue silk shot with silver thread. She heard Anthony’s breath catch, and she couldn’t help but smile as he prowled towards her. That she could affect this man, this man whom she had fought and humbled and loved with her whole heart—
“You look magnificent,” Anthony said hoarsely. He seemed to struggle with himself, unable to touch her in so public a setting as this, and settled for bowing over her hand, his lips grazing her gloved fingers.
“Do I?” Kate could not help but prod. “Or are you merely doing your duty in complimenting your fiancée?”
“Duty,” he told her, his voice rough and low, “is nonexistent where you are concerned, particularly when you look like a goddess incarnate.”
Kate’s eyes widened at the dark undercurrent in his tone, as though he’d like nothing more than to throw her over his shoulder, march them out of the ballroom, and have his wicked way with her.
(They hadn’t, not yet at least. Their true courtship after that bleak month of uncertainty had taken an alarmingly chaste turn. Their mothers were determined chaperones and their siblings eagerly took up that mantle to a degree that, well, to say Kate was frustrated as a result was an understatement).
Fearing for her sanity, Kate attempted to lighten the mood. “And you claimed you weren’t a poet, sir,” she teased, willing them to steer from the dangerously seductive path they were on.
“Poetry addled me somewhere along the way,” he muttered grimly. They had stepped into the ballroom now, eschewing the receiving line for the edge of the dance floor.
“What do you mean?”
“Do you recall that farce of a poetry night? When all your sister’s lovesick suitors took turns vying for her hand by performing verse?”
“I recall far more than poetry being recited that night.”
Anthony snorted. “There was one lovelorn swain who began to recite Byron—”
“You recognized Byron?”
“No,” he admitted. “Benedict told me later. But I remembered the first stanza— forced myself to memorize it afterwards: She walks in beauty like the night, of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright, meet in her aspect and her eyes … I wanted to hit that fool upside the head. Your sister scarcely fit the description but you…” he closed his eyes, shuddered out an exhale, seemingly savoring the memory, “ You wore dark blue that night. There were little glittering stones scattered across your bodice, like stars in the night sky. And your eyes… your eyes were bright and dark—” he laughed, though there was scarcely a trace of humor in his voice, only fervency and want. “I never understood the poets more than I did that night, looking at you.”
Kate swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. “You can’t… you can’t say things like that,” she whispered. “Not here. Not now.”
His gaze grew knowing. “Why not?”
“Because I don't know how much longer I can stand this torment.” The words slipped from her lips before she could help herself, and she blushed.
“A torment, is it?” he asked, an unholy gleam in his eye
Kate was suddenly reminded of his words to her when she had allowed him liberties, assuming marriage was imminent. Do you know all the ways a lady can be seduced? He’d asked her,
“A dance,” she blurted. Anthony raised a brow.
“A dance?”
“As is proper,” Kate insisted. “It is our engagement ball. And I’ve gotten much better at dancing."
Anthony laughed at this, recalling their first attempt on the dance floor some six months prior, but extended a hand to her and led her onto the dance floor.
If she thought a waltz would cool their passions, she could not have been more wrong. His hand rested low on her waist, large and warm in a way she could feel penetrating the silk of her gown. His gaze was just as warm and intent upon her, daring her to look away.
(She never would. She would always rise to his challenge, always).
“Marry me.”
Kate blinked. “Pardon?”
“Marry. Me,” Anthony gritted out like it pained him, making Kate want to tease him even in her confusion.
“I don’t understand,” she said instead, “I’ve already agreed to marry you, Anthony.”
“I mean now, here. I’ve procured a special license.”
Kate’s jaw dropped. “But how?”
“You forget, Katharine,” he said with that old arrogance of his, now tinged with amusement, “that I am a peer of the realm, and therefore permitted to petition the Archbishop for one.”
“That doesn’t mean you should,” Kate found herself arguing, unwittingly falling back into their familiar pattern.
“Why ever not?”
“Because it’s not… correct!” she said wildly. Nearby dancers were looking in their direction, so she lowered her voice, hissing, “What will everyone think if we just… eloped to an upstairs bedroom?”
“I never said anything about a bedroom, but that is an inspired idea.” At the violent sweep of color that flooded her cheeks, Anthony smirked. “Have I managed to scandalize the very much not-prim Miss Sharma once more? Or is this just your country sensibilities speaking?”
Kate scowled. “I understand that your kind—”
“Soon to be yours,” Anthony amended helpfully.
“... Would prefer not to have the banns read, therefore necessitating a common license, but is a special license really necessary? The cost alone—”
“Kate,” Anthony broke in, finality in his tone, “I can handle the cost, and what more, it is done. Purchased. All that remains is your consent.”
She bit her lip, temptation beckoning her as Anthony pulled her closer to him. Their bodies were all but pressed against one another, and Kate realized they'd almost stopped moving.
“I need you Kate,” he breathed, his lips now inches away from hers. She ached to close the distance between them. “Don’t you need me?”
Kate swallowed, willing herself to process all of this with some semblance of ration.
( What lies beyond madness? She’d asked him the afternoon they’d cemented their love for one another. Love, he’d told her, and suddenly, Kate knew the only path forward—)
“Yes,” she said slowly. “Yes, I will marry you tonight.”
His lips curved into a smile, bright and brilliant, so Anthony -like in its triumph. Then he pulled away just enough so Kate felt the loss of his warmth, and continued to lead her in the dance. “We have the dance to finalize our guest list,” he said, his tone suddenly business-like.
“ What? ” Kate squawked. “Isn’t our guest list… everyone in here?”
Anthony raised a sardonic brow. “Sweetheart,” he said smilingly, “would you really prefer this entire assembly to witness our nuptials?”
“You have a point,” Kate agreed, thinking of the Cowpers, the Berbrookes, and whoever Lady Whistledown was, as she was likely skulking about in this very ballroom. “Then I should like my sister there at the very least, and Mary to walk me down… well, whatever aisle we will have.”
“There’s our two witnesses,” Anthony mused. “And I would like Benedict present as well.”
“What of your mother?”
Anthony struggled with himself for a moment. “She will have six other weddings to comfort herself with,” he said, then winced. “I know it sounds callous but Kate, I… I want this for myself, for ourselves. Do you know what I mean?”
She knew all too well. “I have never been one for tonnish weddings, anyway,” she agreed lightly, then furrowed her brows. “But what of an officiant?”
“That should be easy enough,” Anthony shrugged. “You have your pick of them.” He steered her around in one deft motion so she was facing the refreshments table. “There’s the Bishop of London by the punch. I could approach him but I daresay he is too much of a prig to agree to our scheme." Another turn. "Reverend Carstairs is also here, though I doubt he would consent for the same reason as the Bishop.” Kate opened her mouth to comment that it was helpless then, but Anthony smoothly turned her once more. “And our dark horse, though hardly dark for I have yet to observe him not smiling, Mr. Hugh Woodson.”
Kate craned her neck over Anthony's shoulder to see a young man of around two-and-twenty grinning good-naturedly over his punch as he spoke with three young ladies, utterly unaware they all seemed to be nursing various degrees of tendre for him.
“Him?” Kate asked dubiously. “He's a vicar?”
“He is somebody's nephew I believe, thus granted a living at his age.”
Kate nodded. “If he is amenable, then I should be happy to let him officiate.”
At the end of their dance, they went their separate ways, taking care to seem innocent and unassuming in their next steps. Anthony strode over to Mr. Woodson, while Kate stood out the next dance, waiting for Edwina at the corner of the dance floor. Breathless and flushed, Edwina met her shortly after, dismissing her hapless suitor with a sweet smile.
“Is everything alright?” she asked Kate.
Kate, unsure on how to break the news, simply said, “I’m getting married.”
Edwina gave her a funny look. “Of course you are.”
“No,” Kate corrected, “I’m getting married now. Tonight.”
Kate expected similar confusion from her sister but instead, Edwina gasped delightedly, “Oh that is so romantic!”
“ Shhh,” Kate chided. “It’s a secret.”
“A secret wedding?” Edwina repeated, as if she could fathom no greater sort of wedding.
“I want you there, and Mary of course,” Kate said quietly. “But you shall have to ensure you both are not observed leaving the ballroom with Benedict as well.”
Edwina nodded. “Leave Amma to me. We will meet you upstairs.”
Kate impulsively pulled her sister into an embrace. “Thank you,” she said, breathing in her vanilla and rose scent. Edwina went off to find Mary, and Kate furtively snuck out of the ballroom, separate from the rest of their wedding party. She made her way up the staircase and saw that Benedict was loitering outside a bedroom, twining what seemed to be flowers stolen from the arrangements decorating the ballroom with a stray ribbon.
“For you,” he said, handing her the posy with his customary crooked smile. Kate smiled her thanks, inhaling the sweet scent of gardenia and lilies.
“Whose bedroom is this?” she asked tentatively as Benedict ushered her inside.
He laughed. “A guest chamber. I told my brother that holding his wedding in his own bedroom was too on the nose, even for him.”
Kate snorted. Anthony would do something like that, if only for expediency's sake.
The doors opened behind them and Edwina came in, followed by Mary. Kate suddenly felt the urge to explain this impetuous decision, wondering if Mary would chide her for this.
“Mary,” she began, but Mary rose on her tiptoes, pressing a kiss to Kate’s forehead
“I could not be happier for you,” she told Kate gently. “Let the ton’s approbation and judgement bear no weight on your future happiness.”
Kate willed away the sudden tears gathering in her eyes. All night she had felt remarkably happy, but her stepmother's tender words struck a chord in her. “We won’t, Mary,” Kate promised, her voice thick with emotion. “I only ask for your blessing.”
“You have always had it,” Mary told her warmly. “Daughter of my heart.”
They then heard voices echoing in the hallway outside. “I say,” Mr. Woodson said cheerfully as he was escorted by an impatient-looking Anthony, “this is a rather novel location for a wedding, isn’t it?”
Benedict smirked and stepped forward. “A testament to my brother’s ah, impatient love for his fiancée,” he said, causing Anthony to cuff him playfully over the head.
Despite the delayed beginning, the rest of their little ceremony flowed quite smoothly. Kate linked an arm with Mary and Edwina each, they escorted her the few feet needed to reach Anthony, Benedict and the vicar.
Vows were exchanged, and when Mr. Woodsen asked if Anthony would have Kate, he said in fervent tones, “Wholly, irrevocably.” Kate could only smile at the remembrance of his love confession, scarcely a few weeks ago.
“For the sake of legality, my lord, a simple I will should suffice,” Mr. Woodsen told Anthony, amused.
Soon after, Anthony slipped the ring, a family heirloom onto her fourth finger, and the knelt for an innumerable number of prayers until finally, finally they were married. It was Kate who kissed Anthony first, no longer caring about their audience. He was her husband now, she thought, ecstatic. Husband! How novel a term, and already a cherished one. She kissed him deeply, with all the joy and longing she could convey, until Mary quietly cleared her throat.
“Shall we give you some time alone?” she asked the newlyweds with great delicacy. Kate tried to smother a laugh against Anthony’s chest, still caught in his embrace.
To her surprise, Anthony told her new mother-in-law, “No, we shall join you, Lady Mary. There is one last item to accomplish.”
“What item?” Kate asked him as they traipsed down the stairs once more. Benedict and Mr. Woodsen would reenter, followed by Mary and Edwina. Before Anthony could answer—
“There you are!” Kate jumped at the sound of Violet’s voice as soon as she and Anthony stepped back into the ballroom, wondering if they had been caught out. But when they turned, Violet was rushing towards them looking much the same, harried but pleased. “I quite despaired of finding both of you. Benedict said you'd gone to take some air, and though you are engaged, the scandal —”
“Mother,” Anthony broke in with a fond smile, “I presume it is time for the toast?”
Violet blinked. “Yes, it is, in fact. I trust you will give an appropriate toast, in honor of you fiancée?” Kate forgot how active Violet had been in chaperoning them in the last few weeks, perhaps sensing that the road to their engagement had been littered with improprieties.
Anthony's grin widened. “My fiancée,” he mused, but before Kate could wonder what his next move was, Anthony procured a glass of champagne from somewhere and was clinking his spoon against the coupe. The rest of the Bridgerton clan materialized around them along with Mary and Edwina as the ballroom slowly grew silent.
“I thank you all for attending tonight in honor of our engagement,” Anthony began. “And I should like to welcome Lady Mary and Miss Edwina to our family as well.” He paused, smiling. “Indeed, it is a very special night, even more so for we now have twice the occasion to celebrate.” Kate felt a smile bloom on her face in realization of what Anthony was about to do. It was brazen, audacious, but so wholly them .
And sure enough, Anthony's arm curled around her waist, holding her left hand up just enough so a discerning observer could make out the ring sitting atop her gloved finger. “May I present you to my wife , Katharine, Viscountess Bridgerton?”
There was a gasp next to them. Violet, likely. A stray giggle escaped Hyacinth. Kate glanced at Mary and Edwina, both wordless and full of knowing smiles.
For one moment, the entire ton was frozen.
Then there was a lone clap, Benedict perhaps, or Eloise. Slowly but surely, it grew until thunderous applause echoed through the room as all of London roared its delight, if not approval. They had gotten their final scandal to top off this season, though it would hardly be a scandal to Kate and Anthony, not when they had wed on their own terms, and for no other reason but love.
And so Kate smiled brilliantly, letting the sea of applause wash over her, enveloped in the warmth of her husband's embrace.