Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Part II: Reality 

I don’t want to keep what I lived.
I don’t know what to do with what I lived
I don’t trust what happened to me.
Did something happen to me that I,
because I didn’t know how to live it,
lived as something else?
I don’t want to confirm myself in what I lived — in the confirmation of me
I would lose the world as I had it,
and I know I don’t have the fortitude for another."

― Clarice Lispector, The Passion According to G.H

August 17, 1814 - Morning

Edwina finds herself staring at the breakfast spread before her with the kind of detachment that comes from two days of avoiding everyone who matters. Her tea has gone cold — she's been stirring it absently since she sat down, the silver spoon creating endless ripples that somehow never reach the edge of the cup.

"Bon?" Kate's voice breaks through her reverie, warm and familiar. It makes her chest ache. "Are you sure you’re feeling better? Perhaps you should rest some more"

She forces herself to look up, to meet her sister's earnest gaze across the table. She can no longer use a feigned cold to avoid her sister, Lady Danbury and mama, all so she would not have to explain the hollowness that had taken residence beneath her ribs since that night at the opera.

“I am feeling much improved didi, do not worry.”

"We are glad to hear that" Lady Danbury interjects from her position at the head of the table, her voice carrying that particular blend of authority and amusement that suggests she sees right through Edwina's convenient illness. "We were beginning to worry you might miss the remainder of the season."

There's a gentle rebuke there, carefully wrapped in concern, and Edwina feels heat creep up her neck. She takes a deliberate sip of her cold tea to avoid responding, remembering all too well Lady Danbury's promises about next season. About introductions and opportunities. Even if they now feel like consolation prizes, she must show herself grateful. 

"Bon, you must see what I have been working on," Kate says, already reaching for something beside her plate, her movements quick and precise in that determined way she has when she's set her mind to something.

"Kate has been quite thorough," Lady Mary adds with a fond smile, and Edwina watches as her mother's hand briefly touches Kate's shoulder.

"Here" Kate gives her a carefully folded piece of paper, her smile wide and genuine. "I know these past days have been... difficult. But I believe I may have something that will help you"

Edwina accepts the paper with fingers that don't-quite -tremble, though it's a near thing. The script that greets her is unmistakably Kate's — neat rows of names and notations, each entry marked with careful observations that speak of hours of dedicated research.

"I don't understand," she says, though she does. She does, and that's precisely what makes her stomach twist into knots.

"It's a new list," Kate explains, leaning forward slightly, her enthusiasm evident in every line of her body. "Of potential suitors who might be better suited to your true interests. Men who value scholarly pursuits and learning as much as you do."

The paper suddenly feels too heavy in Edwina's hands, the weight of Kate's careful consideration pressing down on her like a physical thing. She wants to crumple it, to watch the neat lines of her sister's handwriting disappear into meaningless creases.

Instead, she carefully smooths it against the tablecloth, her voice coming out sharper than intended: "I do not need your pity."

The words hang in the air, and Edwina has just enough time to register the hurt that flashes across Kate's face before her sister's expression shifts to something fiercer, more protective.

"Pity?" Kate repeats, and there's an edge to her voice now, though it's still wrapped in gentleness. "Edwina, no. This isn't— Bon" Kate's voice softens even more. "I only wish for you to remember that you need not concern yourself with making a match solely for the ton's approval."

Edwina feels the familiar weight of her sister's hand covering her own where it rests beside the list.

"These gentlemen," Kate continues, her thumb absently stroking Edwina's wrist in that soothing pattern she's used since they were children, "they may not all have grand titles or vast estates, but they share your passion for literature, for learning. Mr. James Williams, for instance—" she leans forward, tapping a name near the top of the list, "—has published several papers on Greek philosophy."

Edwina's gaze follows Kate's finger, noting the distinct lack of honorifics before most of the names. The familiar pressure builds behind her eyes — the same one she felt at the opera when the Queen barely spared her a glance. She swallows against it, forcing her voice to remain steady.

"And how exactly did you come by this information?"

"Lady Danbury has been invaluable in making inquiries," Kate replies, shooting a warm smile toward their hostess. "And Benedict has been quite helpful as well. He encountered many fascinating people through his connection to the arts and his time at university."

The casual mention of Benedict's name, the easy way Kate references her soon-to-be brother-in-law… She watches as Kate's eyes light up, that particular sparkle that appears whenever she speaks of anything Bridgerton-related these days.

"How... thoughtful of him to assist," Edwina manages to say. She can feel Lady Danbury's gaze on her face, so she softens her expression into something more grateful. "And of you, Kate. Thank you."

Kate beams at her, clearly relieved by this show of appreciation, and Edwina feels a fresh wave of guilt crash over her. Her sister is only trying to make things better for her.

"Perhaps," Mama suggests gently, "we could arrange some introductions at the poetry reading, at the gallery? I believe several of these gentlemen are known to frequent such gatherings."

Edwina nods mechanically, her fingers still tracing the edges of Kate's careful notations.

"That would be lovely," she says, and if her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes, no one mentions it.

She glances up to find Kate watching her with such naked affection... But then Kate adds, "Benedict mentioned that Mr. Williams often attends their family's gatherings as well. Perhaps Lady Violet and Anthony could—" she breaks off, a slight blush coloring her cheeks at the mention of her betrothed.

Soon, Kate will be Lady Bridgerton, perfectly positioned to make all these introductions herself, with no assistance from Lady Danbury or the Bridgertons themselves. Soon, she will have the power to open doors that Edwina once thought would be hers to walk through.

"Yes," Edwina says, carefully folding the list into precise quarters, each crease a sharp reminder of everything she's lost. "Perhaps he could."

August 19, 1814 - Afternoon

The Bridgerton drawing room feels different now, Edwina thinks, though nothing has changed since the last time she sat here as Lord Bridgerton's intended. The same elegant furniture, the same afternoon light streaming through tall windows, the same delicate china cups filled with perfectly steeped tea. And yet.

(And yet.)

She watches as Mr. Benedict dramatically recounts some artistic disaster. "And there I was," Mr. Benedict declares, lounging dramatically in his chair, "watching in horror as poor Banks stumbled backward into the entirely wrong canvas—"

"The finished one, I presume?" Eloise asks, lifting her eyes from her book.

"The very same," Mr. Benedict groans. "Three weeks of work, ruined in an instant."

"Oh, do not tell me it was the portrait of Mr. Parker," Kate leans forward, "The one you complained about for hours at dinner last week?"

"The very same!" Mr. Benedict throws his hands up. "Though I must say, the splash of wine across his face rather improved the overall effect—"

"I was about to say it, he should consider it a favor" Eloise shrugs unladylike, her eyes dropping back to her book, while Kate unsuccessfully tries to smother her laughter behind her hand.

"Eloise," Lady Bridgerton admonishes, though her eyes sparkle with poorly concealed amusement.

"Perhaps," Kate turns to Mr. Benedict, half seriously, "you could present it as a new artistic movement".

Edwina watches as their conversation continues with easy familiarity. She remembers endless lectures about propriety, about the importance of making a good impression on the families of the ton. Remember , Kate would say, some of these people are part of London’s most respected families. You must be careful not to —

"Kate," Hyacinth interrupts her thoughts, practically bouncing in her seat, "When we go to Aubrey Hall for the wedding, you'll teach me to hunt like you promised, won't you? Anthony said—"

"Hyacinth!" Kate interjects quickly, color rising in her cheeks as Lady Bridgerton's eyebrows raise.

"What?" Hyacinth protests.

"Hunting lessons?" Lady Bridgerton echoes.

Edwina feels heat rise in her own cheeks, that familiar twist of mortification in her stomach. How many times had she begged Kate to be more proper, more reserved, during the course of the season? 

(How many evenings had she spent fretting that Kate's behavior would somehow affect Lord Bridgerton's decision to propose when he was courting her?)

The thought comes unbidden, sharp with worry: if Kate isn't more careful, the Viscount might reconsider the entire affair. After all, his proposal was private – the ton doesn't even know they're betrothed yet. Who could stop him from changing his mind, from deciding Kate is not suitable to be his wife? 

Her sister would be heartbroken. And the Sharma family would be ruined. Edwina would stand no chance of finding a husband, in this or any other social season.

Kate seems to be having similar thoughts, Edwina gathers, for she straightens and looks at Lady Violet. "I assure you, Lady Bridgerton, Anthony gave his permission, but only if you agree to it of course. It would be tracking lessons only, they would not be using fireguns. We discussed it thoroughly, and given how much time the children spend at Aubrey Hall, we thought..."

"My dear," Lady Bridgerton says, "you needn't explain. I believe there's no harm in such pursuits, even if the ton might disagree. Though perhaps we could keep such lessons between family?" The last part is said pointaly towards Hyacinth.

"Perhaps you ought to teach Benedict and Colin," Eloise drawls even though her eyes never once lift from the page of her book. "I cannot recall the last time they returned from their hunting expeditions with anything other than muddied boots. I think they pretend they are hunting as an excuse to escape Mama's country gatherings."

Mr. Benedict protests by launching one of Cooke's butter biscuits at his sister's head.

"Benedict!" Lady Bridgerton chides. 

"So, will you teach me?" Hyacinth presses eagerly, undeterred by her siblings' antics.

Kate's smile softens, though the pink still stains her cheeks. “Well… shall we make a bargain? For every hour you dedicate to your French and pianoforte, we can spend equal time on tracking lessons, what do you say?"

"Yes of course!" Hyacinth declares triumphantly, stealing a biscuit from Benedict’s plate. "I think I'll be better at it than Gregory. He threw up at the mere sight of a drop of blood the last time he cut his—"

"Perhaps," Lady Bridgerton interrupts gently, "we could save the subject for when we are at Aubrey Hall? Now, Kate, I was discussing with your mother and Lady Danbury, but what do you think if we…"

Oh well. Lady Bridgerton seems utterly unconcerned, even amused by Kate's impropriety. The realization sits strangely in Edwina's chest – relief to be sure but… something bitter. All those careful lessons Kate had drilled into her head about proper behavior, about what the ton's most respected families would expect... yet here was her sister, who sometimes seems to have forgotten every rule they ever learned, and no one seemed to mind at all. As if the standards that had been so crucial for Edwina somehow didn't apply to Kate herself.

Edwina takes another sip from her teacup, tunning out the conversation around her while Lady Danbury and Lady Mary are deep in discussion with Lady Bridgerton and Kate about… whatever wedding preparations they need to discuss. 

It is rather easy today, to lose herself to her thoughts, with few Bridgertons present at home. Lady Bridgerton has said Gregory was occupied with his Latin studies at the moment when Kate had asked after the youngest Bridgerton brother, while Miss Francesca remains ensconced in her French lessons with Madame Laurent. Mr. Colin is somewhere in the city, pursuing whatever mysterious errands seem to occupy his days lately.

She had noticed Kate hadn’t asked about the Viscount.

Edwina had found herself searching the room automatically for Lord Bridgerton's tall figure, though she knows by now he isn't present. Kate shows no sign of missing her betrothed, seeming perfectly content among his siblings. It is a curious thing.

"Kate, dear," Lady Bridgerton is saying, rising from her seat, "would you mind accompanying me for a moment? I believe I have something in the library that might interest you."

"Of course," Kate agrees readily, following the viscountess toward the door.

Edwina watches them leave, noting the way Lady Bridgerton's hand comes to rest naturally on Kate's arm, guiding her with the kind of maternal affection that seems entirely unforced. She remembers her own interactions with the viscountess — always pleasant, always proper, but with an underlying current of... something. As if Lady Bridgerton had been holding her breath, waiting for a shoe to drop.

(She hadn't understood then why that was. She certainly understands now.)

"More tea, Miss Edwina?" Benedict offers, and Edwina startles slightly, realizing she's been staring at the empty doorway.

"Yes, thank you," she manages, though her cup is still half full. The tea has gone cold anyway.

The carriage rocks gently as they make their way through London's streets, and Edwina finds herself studying Kate's profile in the fading afternoon light. Her sister's gaze is fixed somewhere beyond the window, a slight smile playing at the corners of her mouth, lost in thoughts that Edwina can no longer read as easily as she once thought she could.

Lady Danbury and Mama are engaged in quiet conversation, their voices a soft backdrop to the rhythmic clatter of hooves against cobblestone.

Edwina makes herself reach across the space between them, touching Kate's hand lightly. "You seem rather contemplative, didi. Are you disappointed that Lord Bridgerton was not present today?"

Kate blinks, as if pulled from some far-off place. “Disappointed?”

"You needn't worry," Edwina continues, lightly, "I imagine he will call on you tomorrow at the earliest acceptable hour. He seems to have taken up permanent residence in our drawing room these days."

She expects a chuckle, maybe a bashful look from her sister. Instead, Kate just smiles softly, her expression untroubled. "Oh no, I knew he wouldn't be there today. He wrote to inform me he had some business matters he couldn't postpone."

“Oh” it’s all Edwina manages to say.

Her mind circles back to all those moments during her own courtship when Lord Bridgerton's whereabouts had been a mystery, when she had to piece together his schedule from fragments of information offered by others, when she had sat in the Bridgerton’s drawing room wondering if he would appear.

She watches as Kate absently touches the pocket of her dress, where Edwina assumes his letter rests, and she suddenly cannot bear how casually her sister carries this proof of consideration, this evidence of thoughtfulness that she herself had never received.

"How attentive of him," she says, and if her voice sounds strange, Kate doesn't seem to notice, still lost in whatever pleasant thoughts occupy her mind.

The carriage continues its steady progress, and Edwina lets the gentle motion rock her backward, away from Kate, away from the realization that her sister doesn't even recognize this as something remarkable — that Lord Bridgerton's consideration has already become such a natural part of her world that she doesn't think twice about it.

August 19, 1814 - Evening

The soft glow of candlelight makes everything feel softer in Mama's chambers, casting gentle shadows that remind Edwina of evenings in India when they would gather like this. Kate is perched at the end of Mary's bed, her hair loose around her shoulders, while Edwina reclines against the pillows beside her mother, feeling peaceful for the first time in days. 

Mama's laughter mingles with Kate's about something or another, and Edwina finds herself smiling too, caught up in the warmth of it all. These moments have become rare lately, moments when she can simply exist without the weight of everything else pressing down on her.

"You never told us what Lady Bridgerton wanted to show you earlier." Mama says, arranging her night gown more comfortably around her.

The peaceful atmosphere cracks.

Edwina closes her eyes, tempering the flare of irritation that blossoms on her chest. Sometimes she forgets, in moments like these, that soon even their private family traditions will belong to the Bridgertons – that even now, they manage to insert themselves into what should be purely Sharma affairs.

Something in Kate's expression shifts, a mixture of excitement and uncertainty that makes her look younger somehow. "Actually," she begins, twisting her fingers in her lap, "she wanted to discuss my future duties as Viscountess. She has these wonderful ledgers, filled with information about every family in the ton. Their connections, their histories—"

"Essential knowledge for a viscountess," Mary nods encouragingly.

"Yes, although it's rather overwhelming. There's so much to learn." Kate's voice carries a hint of vulnerability that Edwina rarely hears. "Lady Bridgerton— Violet," she corrects herself with a small smile, "says we'll go through it all slowly. She wants to help ease me into the role."

Edwina watches as Kate stands, pacing slightly as she often does when processing her thoughts. "There are so many responsibilities I hadn't even considered. Some of them, of course, I was aware of it. But I haven’t stopped to think what it means managing the household staff at both Aubrey Hall and Bridgerton House, keeping track of the social season, deciding which events are worth attending. I need to know the families and their history and the influence they carry with them. All of this while launching Francesca into society,” she pauses, glancing at Edwina "And next season will be particularly demanding with Francesca's debut and both Eloise and Edwina out in society if—"

"Kate," Mary interrupts gently, "you needn't worry about Edwina. Lady Danbury has graciously offered to sponsor her as you know it, and she remains under my care."

"Of course," Kate says quickly, though her hands twist together anxiously. "But I want to be there for her, mama. I just..." She trails off, resuming her pacing with renewed vigor. "I worry about navigating it all properly. The Bridgerton name carries such weight in society, and I..." Her voice grows sharper, even though there’s a hint of vulnerability in how it shakes slightly, "Well, we all know I was hardly the ton's favorite this season. What if I cannot maintain the family's standing as I should?”

"You'll be wonderful at all of it," Mary assures her, and Edwina can hear the pride in her mother's voice. "You've been managing our household for years, and you have done remarkably well this season Kate. Yes, not everything happened according to plan, but that hardly matters. We overcame so much."

"This is different mama," Kate protests, but Edwina can’t truly listen to it anymore.

The candlelight suddenly seems too bright, too harsh. Edwina's head throbs with each new duty Kate lists, each responsibility that Lady Bridgerton had never thought to discuss with her when she was to be Lord Bridgerton's wife.

Had the viscountess known even then? Had she seen something lacking in Edwina that made her hold back these preparations, these intimate discussions of future duties?

"Excuse me," Edwina manages to interject, pressing her fingers to her temple. "I believe I have a headache coming on.

"Oh, bon," Kate immediately turns toward her, concern written across her features. "Shall I fetch you some tea?"

"No," Edwina says, perhaps too quickly. "No, I just need to lie down. I am quite sleepy anyway. Good night didi, Good night Mama."

She forces herself to move slowly, gracefully, as she rises from the bed. Forces herself to smile at her mother's worried glance. Forces herself not to run from the room.

"Are you certain dearest?" Mama calls after her, but Edwina is already closing the door behind her, already fleeing down the darkened hallway toward her chamber.

It's only when she's alone that she allows herself to acknowledge the truth: Lady Bridgerton had never intended to prepare her for the role of viscountess, it seems. Had never seen her as truly worthy of the position.

August 21, 1814 - Evening

Lady Danbury's dining room seems rather crowded tonight, Edwina thinks, though nothing has changed except perhaps the way the space between people has shifted. She watches from her end of the table as Lord Bridgerton leans slightly toward Kate, his voice carrying just enough for Edwina to catch his words.

"—truly remarkable how the spices blend together," the Viscount is saying to Mama as Edwina tunes into the conversation. "I find myself craving it each morning now. I can hardly believe I used to start my days any other way."

"Anthony Bridgerton, willingly forsaking his morning coffee? I never thought I'd see the day" Lady Bridgerton’s tone is gently teasing. "Why, just last month Benedict made the grave mistake of drinking the last of Anthony's precious coffee, and I thought we would never hear the end of it. He was absolutely beside himself."

“ Mother ” Lord Bridgerton narrows his eyes at Lady Bridgerton, but she doesn’t seem at all cowered. 

"He spent an entire breakfast lamenting the tragedy of it all. I believe his exact words were that 'some crimes against one's person simply cannot be forgiven. You are desinherited'

“Anthony..” Kate playfully chides him, while exchanging glances and smiles with Lady Bridgerton.

Lord Bridgerton’s eyes suddenly glint mischievously as he looks from his mother and then back to Kate, a slow smile spreading as his eyes run over her sister’s face, before turning to the Viscountess. “Mother, did you know my intended absolutely despises English tea?"

"Anthony!" Kate protests, "I do not despise —"

"Oh, but you do , my dear," Lady Danbury interjects in Lord Bridgerton’s defense, to everyone’s surprise, smiling at Kate’s indignant gasp. Edwina can’t help laughing a little at the entire scene. "I've watched you try to politely suffer through it for months."

Everyone laughs as Kate grows more flustered, hiding her face behind one hand. Lord Bridgerton captures her free one, pressing a brief kiss to her knuckles. 

Lady Violet simply shakes her head, smiling. "It's quite alright, dear. I’ll make sure Cook has your preferences at hand for you when you visit, you must only say it. It is no problem at all."

“It is not necessary, truly. Anthony exaggerates …”

"I think you have impeccable taste," Lord Bridgerton declares. "English tea is rather bland in comparison." He gives Kate another charming smile and although her sister is clearly still vexed by the entire exchange, she smiles back at him.

"Speaking of quality," Lord Bridgerton continues, addressing Lady Mary again, "I've been corresponding with several merchants about importing spices from India. Kate mentioned how much she misses certain dishes, and I thought perhaps we might introduce some variety to the Bridgerton kitchen."

Lady Mary's face lights up. "Oh, that would be wonderful! Kate, dear, you must tell him about the peper pot your father used to favor—"

"I already have," Kate interjects with a small laugh. "In great detail. Though I still maintain you're being rather ambitious about your tolerance for heat, my lord."

"I seem to recall you having similar doubts when we visited the tea shop in Bloomsbury," Anthony raises an eyebrow. "And who was proven wrong then?"

"Anthony, the spices were quite toned down for English sensibilities... And you still turned an alarming shade of red and drank an entire pitcher of water."

"I was simply thirsty, that was not—" Lord Bridgerton protests.

"Oh dear God," Lady Danbury interrupts them with a pointed look, although she looks quite amused, “If I allow the two of you to continue down this path, we shall be here all night. I have chaperoned you enough times to know exactly where this leads." 

Both Kate and Lord Bridgerton have the grace to look slightly abashed at least.

“I do think the Viscount presented an excellent idea” Lady Danbury continues. “I have quite enjoyed some of the changes you and Lady Mary have suggested to my Cook, Miss Sharma.” 

Lord Bridgerton nods, his expression growing more serious. "I've been thinking about us hosting a dinner once we're settled, Kate. During the off-season when we are in the country. I thought we might establish our own unique menu, as Viscount and Viscountess. Mother has her preferences, of course, and she shall keep her own menu, but I'd like us to create something that represents both our tastes, what do you say?”

Lady Bridgerton had discussed menus with her once, explaining how each lady of a household in the ton crafts her own selections to reflect her particular tastes and style of entertaining. 

She had imagined herself in that role, carefully selecting dishes that would showcase her sophistication, her understanding of the ton expectations.
She had also thought then that such matters were beneath a Viscount's notice. 

Lady Danbury exchanges a knowing glance with Lady Bridgerton, and Edwina doesn't miss how the Viscountess's eyes soften as she watches her son.

"That's quite thoughtful," Kate says softly, pleasure written all over her face. "Though we'd have to consider which dishes would be most approachable for English palates. Perhaps we could discuss it with Cook at Bridgerton House? I noticed he seems quite adventurous for a British chef."

"I've mentioned it to him that I believed you’d like to make suggestions," Lord Bridgerton replies. "He's quite excited about the prospect, actually. Though he insisted on having you review his attempts before he serves anything to guests."

"Will you be expanding the herb garden at Aubrey Hall as well?" Lady Bridgerton asks. "Perhaps some of the spices might grow quite well in the English climate."

"I thought we might try," Lord Bridgerton says. "Kate has already drawn up a list of possibilities.”

"I do hope you'll share some of your own dishes with me as well, Lady Violet," Kate says with genuine interest. "Anthony mentioned there are quite a few unique to the family?"

"Oh! Has he told you about Stir-up Sunday?" Lady Bridgerton's entire countenance brightens. "It's absolute mayhem in the kitchen. The children—"

"Each take turns stirring the pudding mix," Edwina finds herself saying, remembering how Lady Bridgerton had shared that story with her one sunny afternoon at Aubrey Hall. The Viscountess had painted such a vivid picture of the family tradition that Edwina made sure to catalogue the information, calculating how to maintain such traditions while still impressing the ton with more sophisticated offerings.  "They all make wishes as they stir, isn’t that so Lady Bridgerton?"

Edwina catches the slight pause in Kate's movement, the way her sister's fingers still momentarily against her glass. Kate glances at her, something unreadable flickering across her features, and Edwina wonders if it bothers her sister that she, Edwina, knows something about the Bridgertons that Kate does not. 

That this small piece of Bridgerton history belonged to her first.

"Indeed," Lady Bridgerton smiles warmly. "Though I daresay Cook has never quite recovered from last year's... incident."

"Gregory nearly swallowed the sixpence," Lord Bridgerton interjects, a rare boyish grin spreading across his face. " They hide trinkets in the mixture, to bring good luck to whoever finds them in their servings. Though in his defense, Hyacinth had hidden it rather deviously in his portion. I had to fish it out myself – he was turning quite blue."

Oh . He hadn’t shared that when his mother had been recounting that same tale. Lord Bridgerton had remained absorbed in his correspondence at the time, she recalls. 

“Oh no” Kate says, failing to hide her laughter.

“You’ll soon see for yourself – the entire kitchen becomes the children's domain for the day. And here I mean Benedict and Colin as well. They still squabble over whose turn comes first, as if they are still in short coats," his eyes crinkle with mirth as Kate laughs again.

"It brings such life to the house," Lady Violet adds, "Though I must warn you, dear – they take their wishes very seriously."

"As they should," Kate responds with mock solemnity. Then she adds softly. “It sounds so lovely”.

Edwina watches as they continue to share stories across the table, each tale weaving Kate more tightly into the fabric of this family. The warmth of their laughter seems to create a barrier around them, a gentle wall of intimacy that leaves her on the outside looking in.

She finds herself sitting in her own pocket of silence, surrounded by the ghosts of all her careful plans, watching the future she'd once imagined for herself play out before her eyes.

A poetry reading at Somerset House on August 22nd showed the Bridgertons and the Sharmas once more in high spirits, with Miss Edwina Sharma continuing her own promising social season accompanied by a suitor. Meanwhile, Miss Sharma and Lord Bridgerton appeared, as one observer noted, "quite lost in their own world."

August 23, 1814 - Afternoon

The late afternoon sun paints Lady Danbury's drawing room in shades of amber, and Edwina finds herself almost at peace, remembering how Mr. Williams had engaged her in an animated discussion about Persian poetry at yesterday's reading.

After that uncomfortable dinner just two days before, Edwina had felt so much guilt over her bitter thoughts toward Kate.

She loves Kate. She does. She can still feel the terror of those moments after the accident, the way the world had stopped spinning until her sister opened her eyes. She remembers promising herself that nothing – no failed courtship, no wounded pride – could matter as much as having Kate alive and well.

So she had pushed herself to give her sister's carefully curated list a chance. She’s glad that she has now. It had been a very pleasant evening indeed.

(And perhaps Kate was right. Perhaps there are other paths to happiness than the ones the ton prescribes).

She looks at her sister across the room. Kate sits at the small writing desk, her pen moving swiftly across the page as she adds another dish to what Edwina assumes is the growing menu for Bridgerton House. She's been at it all afternoon, pausing occasionally to ask Mama about specific spice combinations or preparation methods.

"Edwina," Kate looks up, tapping her pen against her lower lip thoughtfully, "what do you think about the semiya payasam Appa used to make? Would the cardamom be too adventurous for an English palate?"

Edwina considers it, momentarily distracted from her book and thoughts of Mr. Williams by memories of warm kitchens and sweeter days. "Perhaps if you reduced the cardamom slightly? Though I always preferred it the traditional way."

Kate nods, adding something to her notes. "Anthony claims he can handle the spices now, but I've seen him try to hide his watering eyes more than once."

At that moment, a footman appears at the doorway, carrying an elegantly wrapped parcel.

"A delivery for Miss Sharma," he announces, and Edwina watches as Kate's head snaps up from her notes.

"From the Viscount?" Lady Danbury inquires, though her knowing smile suggests she hardly needs confirmation.

Kate accepts the package with barely contained excitement, her fingers trembling slightly as she unties the ribbon. Edwina finds herself leaning forward despite herself, curiosity momentarily overwhelming everything else.

"Oh," Kate breathes, and then adds in a barely there whisper. "Oh, Anthony."

Inside the box, nestled in cream-colored silk, lies a book. Edwina can see it's clearly old, its leather binding worn in the way that speaks of frequent, loving use. Kate handles it with reverent care as she opens the cover, and Edwina catches a glimpse of handwritten notes in the margins.

"What is it?" Mary asks, moving to peer over Kate's shoulder.

"It's..." Kate's voice catches slightly. "It's a collection of Sanskrit poetry. But not just that – look." She points to the inscription on the first page. "It belonged to his father. These are all his annotations, his thoughts on the translations."

"The late viscount was quite the scholar," Lady Danbury remarks.

"Anthony mentioned that yesterday, and he had quite an extensive library in Aubrey Hall" Kate says softly, her fingers tracing the faded ink of the elder Bridgerton's handwriting. "But I never thought..." she doesn’t finish the sentence.

She pulls out a folded piece of paper from the second page. A note, it seems. From Lord Bridgerton, most likely. Edwina watches as her sister's eyes scan the words, watches as tears gather but don't fall.

For the rest of the afternoon, Kate is entirely lost to the rustle of the pages as she carefully turns them. And Edwina stares at her own book until the words blur, feeling something massive and undefined building in her chest.

The season's final grand event, the Hastings Ball at Clyvedon on August 25th, proved particularly noteworthy. Viscount Bridgerton and Miss Sharma seemed quite taken with one another. Following the ball, a few days later, it is said an intimate family dinner was held, where it is believed Lord Bridgerton asked for Miss Sharma’s hand in marriage. The details of the proposal remain private.

August 25, 1814 - Morning/ Afternoon

The countryside blurs past the carriage window, a watercolor painting of late summer greens bleeding into golds. Edwina counts heartbeats between mileposts, between Kate's quiet conversations with Lady Danbury about the upcoming festivities, between Mama's gentle reminders that they'll need to rest before tonight's ball.

Three days at Clyvedon.
Or three days of watching Kate slip further into the Bridgerton fold.
Or three days of pretending her world isn't slowly unraveling thread by thread

"The Duchess has arranged quite the celebration," Lady Danbury remarks, her cane tapping a steady rhythm against the carriage floor. "I presume Lord Bridgerton thought it the perfect opportunity to make the formal announcement at dinner on the final day, yes?"

Kate's answering smile is a soft, private thing. And she remembers another carriage ride, where similar plans had been made, where expectations were as sweet as the summer breeze - how different it feels now, being the spectator rather than the spectacle. 

"He has made arrangements for it to be printed on society papers the following day. Both The Morning Post and The Times. So three days hence," Kate says, and Edwina can hear the barely contained joy in her sister's voice. "Though I hardly think it will surprise anyone."

"Nonsense," Lady Danbury declares with familiar authority. "Society loves nothing more than a proper announcement, even when the news itself are perhaps the worst-kept secret in London."

The laughter that follows feels like it's coming from somewhere far away, even though Edwina knows she's joining in, knows her smile is perfectly positioned, knows she's playing her part exactly as expected. Perfect sister, perfect daughter, perfect…

( Kate, I am done with playing a part, she had said not too long ago. She does not know how she has slipped into do it again. I’m doing it for Kate, Edwina tells herself, resolute. And haven’t them all done sacrifices this season? Perhaps this is hers).

(She wonders, briefly, what would happen if she screamed. If she shattered this carefully maintained facade and let out everything that's building beneath her skin. But she's never been the sister who breaks the rules. That has always been Kate).

"Will you sit with me at dinner tonight?" Kate asks suddenly, reaching across to touch Edwina's hand. The contact burns. "Before the ball begins?"

"Of course," Edwina says automatically, though something in her chest constricts at the thought. Of course she'll sit beside Kate, watch her sister's eyes constantly seeking Lord Bridgerton across the table, watch him return every glance with an intensity that makes Edwina's skin feel too tight.

The carriage jolts slightly, and Kate's hand withdraws. Edwina stares at the spot where their skin had touched.

"Just think," Mama says dreamily, "in a few weeks' time..."

She doesn't finish the thought, but she doesn't need to. Kate will be a Bridgerton.

"Look," Kate says suddenly, leaning toward the window. "You can see Clyvedon now."

The estate rises from the landscape like something from a fairy tale.

"Beautiful," Edwina says, because that's what's expected. She watches Kate's eyes light up at the sight, watches her sister lean further out the window like an eager child, and feels something tug at her chest.

Three days.

August 25, 1814 - Evening

The diamonds at her throat catch the candlelight, scattering prismatic reflections across her face in the mirror. Edwina adjusts them with careful fingers, the weight familiar yet suddenly strange against her skin. 

Kate had fastened them earlier with steady hands, the routine so ingrained that neither of them remarked upon it - though perhaps they should have, Edwina thinks now, watching her own fingers trace the delicate chain. 

Soon enough, such moments will become memories, replaced by new routines in a different household. Someone else’s sisters who Kate will help dress for different occasions.

(She's been avoiding thinking about it, she realizes - how final it all is. How permanent. It had been easier when Kate was leaving for India, when the loss had a precise timestamp and geography. This is... messier. Kate will be here but not here , present but absent, close enough to touch but separate all the same.)

Edwina finds herself studying her reflection more intently. She looks exactly as she should - the perfect diamond of the season, even if the season is ending and she remains unmatched. Her cream silk gown drapes elegantly, her dark hair is artfully arranged, her smile practiced to perfection. Everything is just as it should be, except for how nothing is.

"You look beautiful," Mama says from the doorway, and Edwina's smiles. 

"Thank you, Mama." The words come easily, naturally, even as her fingers fidget with the sapphires again. "Is Kate..." She trails off, the question dying on her tongue as she catches sight of her sister in the mirror's reflection, already dressed for the ball in deep teal silk that makes her skin glow.

"“You look perfect, bon," Kate says, her smile bright enough to rival the diamonds at Edwina's throat. 

Perfect, perfect, perfect - when did that word start to feel like chains instead of wings?

The ballroom glows like a jewel against the night sky. 

They've barely crossed the threshold when Lord Bridgerton materializes beside them. His eyes find her sister immediately, drinking her in. 

"Miss Sharma," he says to Kate, voice pitched low and intimate despite their public setting. His hand extends automatically, and Kate's fingers slot into his as naturally as breathing. "You look… stunning. And rather late".

Kate's answering smile is radiant, unguarded. "My Lord," she responds, the formal address somehow transformed into something private between them. "Fashionably so," she counters.

Lord Bridgerton shakes his head fondly and kisses her knuckles, before tucking her hand into his arm. He turns to greet Edwina and Mama without letting go of Kate’s hand.

He leads them with Kate beside him and the ballroom opens before them in a sweep of candlelight and silk, crystal chandeliers casting rainbow prisms across the assembled ton. 

There's something different about them tonight. They move through the crowd as if they're sharing some precious secret, some private joy that sets them apart from everyone else. They disappear and reapper and Edwina can see it. Their evening attire remains immaculate, but there's a softness to Kate's hair that suggests his fingers have been through it. A slight wrinkle in his cravat that speaks of her sister's hands. 

The happiness radiating from them is almost offensive in its intensity. 

The first notes of the waltz drift through the air, and Edwina watches Lord Bridgerton lead Kate to the dance floor.

It 's beautiful. How well they move together. As if they've been dancing for years rather than weeks. 

It’s strange to think she had once been chosen first. A part of her clings to that thought, wraps it around herself like a shield: she had been chosen first . He had seen something in her, had picked her out of all the debutantes of the season. Had proposed to her. It lodges in her throat, sharp and bitter - the knowledge that had she not pushed them together, had she not insisted they learn to get along, had she not made Kate the gatekeeper of her happiness and the one he should seek approval beyond all else ... Perhaps none of this would have happened.

The music swells, and Lord Bridgerton pulls Kate closer than strictly proper, his lips near her ear as he whispers something that makes her laugh. The sound sends an unexpected spike of pain through Edwina's chest, sharp enough to make her reach for her bodice, fingers pressing against the stiff boning as if to contain whatever this feeling is that threatens to burst through.

“It does make a sister happy, does it not? To see such a thing” The Duchess of Hastings is suddenly at Edwina's side, like an apparition, resplendent in deep blue silk that makes her look every inch the fairy tale princess Edwina once aspired to be. 

“It’s been too long since I’ve seen Anthony like this - so open, so… himself” The Duchess’s voice is fond, while watching the dance floor… “I imagine it is the same for you. I remember how you’ve said Kate has also carried so much of the responsibility for your family. To see them so…” She trails off, still smiling.  “Well, I suppose love changes everything.” 

"Indeed, it does." Edwina nods.

"Kate mentioned you've been receiving calls from several eligible gentlemen," The Duchess mentions as if they are the closest of friends.

"Yes." Edwina's smile remains fixed. "Lady Danbury has been most helpful in making introductions. Although I do not think I shall marry this season."

"Do you intend to pursue a match next year then?" Daphne asks gently.

"Lady Danbury has graciously agreed to sponsor me for another season, yes.”

“Oh, but you needn’t worry about that” The Duchess says, brightly. “Anthony will certainly provide everything you need, and ensure you and Lady Mary are properly settled. If you choose to live with her that is. I know Kate would be thrilled to have you at Bridgerton House and Aubrey Hall, though of course you might prefer to remain with Lady Mary.”

The duchess is certainly unaware of the wave of horror her words have sent through Edwina’s body. 

The words hang in the air around her: Anthony will provide. Anthony will ensure. Anthony will give her the dowry she needs, will set up her mother in a house, will take care of everything because that's what brothers do.

She'll be expected to call him Anthony now, to treat him as brother.  

She'd been too busy spinning fantasies of royal gardens, letting herself get lost in the possibility of it all, to prepare for the future that now races towards her at an allarming speed. The fantasy of the prince seems impossibly childish now, a glittering distraction that kept her from seeing the truth of what her life would become.

She does not know what is worse: To live at Bridgerton house and being reminded constantly of everything she lost… or to content herself with scheduled visits and polite invitations, satisfied with scraps of Kate's attention. Watching her slip seamlessly into the Bridgerton fold while Edwina stands on the periphery.

“We haven’t discussed it yet” Edwina answers a moment later.

"I see… well, I wanted to tell you," Daphne continues, either missing or choosing to ignore the tension in Edwina's shoulders, "that I would be delighted to assist with your next season. Between myself, Lady Danbury, and of course Kate, I daresay you'll fare far better than I did during mine."

“I would hardly call marrying a Duke lacking in success, your grace” Edwina says with what she hopes it’s enough humor to hide the edge she feels creeping into her voice.

"Oh, I one day shall tell you all about my season." Daphne's laugh is soft, understanding in a way that makes Edwina's skin crawl because she understands nothing at all. “I know it might seem daunting, after being the diamond yourself, but in truth, it might be better to no longer carry that title. You will see”.

"Thank you, Your Grace," Edwina says, her voice honey-sweet even as something cold settles in her chest. "For offering your assistance”.

"Please, I insist you call me Daphne," the duchess smiles warmly. “We're to be sisters soon enough."

Sisters. The word echoes strangely in Edwina's mind. 

“It’s fortunate. That we… that Kate has found such a loving family to join”

Daphne beans at the her words.

“We are indeed so happy to have you all as part of the family. Truly, Miss Edwina.”  Daphne gazes back to the dance floor. “You know, Gregory and Hyacinth have taken to calling her 'sister' already. Mother's practically adopted her. It's as if she was always meant to be a Bridgerton."

Edwina’s smile betrays nothing of the humiliation burning beneath her skin. 

Always meant to be a Bridgerton . As if Edwina herself was just another step on Kate's journey to where she truly belonged.

And where does that leave her? The former diamond, now to be presented next season as the Viscountess's sister, dependent on her former suitor's charity.

In front of her, the sound of Kate’s laugh mixes with the music, and the bitterness rises in her throat like bile - Kate had been ready to leave for India, had planned to abandon them all, and now she expects Edwina to slide perfectly into the role she herself had rejected? To be the proper sister-in-law, to live in their shadow, to watch their happiness daily while pretending her own heart isn't shattering?

That's when it hits her, with a clarity that steals her breath - why it hurts so much to watch them, why every shared glance feels like a knife between her ribs.

She's still in love with him. She’s still in love with Lord Bridgerton.

She must be. What else could explain this ache, this sense of loss? The realization makes her step falter for the first time, and she sways on her feet. That’s her tragedy. To be in love with her sister's intended. She’s trapped in a horror story of her own making.

"Miss Edwina?" Daphne's voice sounds concerned. "Are you quite well? You've gone rather pale."

"Perfectly well," Edwina says automatically. "If you'll excuse me, I believe I need some air."

She moves toward the terrace as her world tilts on its axis.

August 26 & August 27, 1814 

The days at Clyvedon blur together in a haze of carefully orchestrated avoidance.

Edwina develops a sudden interest in the library's most obscure texts, finds herself taking extended walks in the gardens at precisely the times when everyone else gravitates toward the drawing room. 

She becomes an expert at arriving exactly when meals begin and excusing herself the moment propriety allows.

When Kate suggests they walk the gardens together with Newton, Edwina discovers a convenient headache. When the Bridgertons organize a charade game in the drawing room, she remembers an urgent letter she must write. She perfects the art of being present while remaining apart.

She hoards these moments of solitude like precious gems, storing them away, gathering strength for what she knows is coming - for when she'll have no choice but to sit and smile and play her part.

August 27, 1814 - Evening 

Dinner feels endless, each course arriving with the weight of anticipation. Edwina moves her food around her plate, her stomach too tight with dread to manage more than the occasional bite. She remembers another dinner, at Aubrey Hall, where expectations had hung in the air thick as honey and so so sweet. 

(The aftertaste had been bitter then; sitting there, waiting for words that never came). 

Life has a way of mocking her these days, she thinks. How she had hoped for the moment he would raise from his chair, glass in hand, and speak the words she longed to hear. Now, she dreads the moment Lord Bridgerton will stand, will clear his throat, will begin the speech she knows must come at any moment.

But he seems content to simply exist in Kate's orbit, their chairs positioned closer than strictly necessary at the grand dining table.

The conversation around her fades in and out like waves crashing on the sand, her attention scattered by the growing knot in her chest. She catches fragments - something about letters - but can't seem to focus on the thread until Mr. Benedict's voice cuts through her anxiety:

—twice daily when they are apart. And I must say, brother, they seem considerably longer than your usual 'arrived safely, all is well' missives."

"If those are the letters you’re receiving from him Benedict, that's already one sentence longer than what he considers sufficient communication." Daphne adds.

"My letters are perfectly adequate," Anthony protests.

"I suppose that's one word for them." Kate says, and at Lord Bridgerton’s expression of mock offense, Kate laughs.

"Perhaps I should have Gregory review them first," Anthony muses, winking at Kate before flashing a knowing smile towards his youngest brother that makes Gregory flush red at the other end of the table. "He seems to have quite the way with words lately."

"I do not!" Gregory protests too quickly, while Hyacinth's eyes light with mischief.

"Oh, but you do," she declares. "I found your note to Miss—"

"Hyacinth," Lady Violet warns, though her eyes sparkle with amusement at the private joke Edwina isn't privy to.

The conversation slips away from her again as she watches Kate lean slightly toward Lord Bridgerton, as she watches him whisper something in her ear.

​​Unbidden, something comes to mind — the grand steps of Aubrey Hall, Lord Bridgerton on one knee before her, the ton watching with bated breath. These memories, they cling to her like cobwebs. The thought strikes her like a serpent's bite, vicious and venomous: at least Kate will never have such a grand proposal . 

Horror floods through her veins like poison. When had she become this person?

"I think," The Duke announces once the final course is cleared, shaking Edwina away from her thoughts. He shares a meaningful look with Lord Bridgerton, and that makes Edwina's pulse quicken, "we should all retire to the drawing room."

"All of us?" Hyacinth perks up immediately, clearly aware it's well past her usual bedtime.

Lord Bridgerton smiles at his sister. "Yes," he says, his voice carrying a particular tone. "All of us."

This is it then. 

Edwina rises with the others. 

She’s ready. She's had three days to prepare. 

She takes a seat near Mama, watching as everyone arranges themselves with a casualness that feels rehearsed - they all know what's coming.

Lord Bridgerton guides Kate to a settee near the fireplace, his hand lingering at the small of her back.

The Duke of Hastings rises from his place beside Daphne with a glass in hand, "I'd like to say how grateful we are to have both our families gathered here." His eyes move to Anthony with knowing warmth. “And before we proceed with the evening's entertainment, I believe Lord Bridgerton has something to say tonight”. 

The words settle over the room and Edwina watches Kate's fingers tighten slightly around the fabric of her skirts, watches Lord Bridgerton's hand move to cover them for a moment before he rises.

"Thank you, Simon," Lord Bridgerton says, something warm coloring his voice. He commands the room without any effort. "These past months have brought changes I never expected," he begins, his voice carrying that particular warmth Edwina has come to recognize as belonging only to Kate, "blessings I never thought to receive. When this season began, I believed I understood exactly what my future would hold - what I needed, what I wanted, what duty required of me." His eyes find Kate's. "I had no idea how thoroughly those certainties would be upended”.

He pauses, his gaze sweeping the room to include everyone who’s present, before finally returning to land on her sister once more. "The joining of our families has brought more than I could have imagined - not just the gift of love, but the gift of understanding. Of knowing that duty and love need not be separate paths”.

He takes a deep breath.

"Before anything else, I must express my deepest gratitude to the Sharma family," Lord Bridgerton continues, and Edwina feels her spine stiffen. "For their grace, their understanding, their forgiveness. Lady Mary, your acceptance means more than I can express. And Miss Edwina—"

She forces herself to meet his gaze, to maintain her serene expression even as her fingers clutch the arm rest of her chair tight enough to hurt.

"Your kindness has been extraordinary," he says softly, and a part of her wants to laugh at how genuine he sounds, how earnestly grateful and sincere. As if her "kindness" had been a choice rather than the only path left. 

She merely inclines her head in acknowledgment instead. 

His eyes travel across the room then.

"Tonight is... a night I've been waiting for, in more ways than I can say." he continues, addressing them all. "And with our families gathered here to mark the beginning of this new chapter, I'd like to make good on a few promises."

Lord Bridgerton shifts his gaze to Kate then, extending a hand. “Miss Sharma,” he says, with a quiet steadiness, “would you join me?”

Edwina watches Kate rise, confusion evident in the slight furrow of her brow. 

Something shifts in the air then, a collective intake of breath as the Viscount turns fully to Kate. This isn't the formal announcement everyone was expecting. This is something else entirely.

"Kate, I know we have planned to merely announce our engagement tonight." His voice is playful, even if she can sense that thickness of emotion underlying it. "But I made you two promises the night I asked for your hand in marriage—do you remember?"

Kate's laugh is breathless, caught somewhere between exasperation, agitation and joy. "To vex me daily, as you are doing splendidly at present—"

The gentle laughter that ripples through the room feels like it's coming from somewhere far away.

"And to humble myself before you," he finishes softly, and then, he sinks to one knee before Kate.

The room falls into a hushed silence.

“Anthony?” Kate’s voice is a watery whisper as she stares at him wide eyed.

"I find myself doing so gladly, and often, since you've entered my life. Before you, I was lost…searching for something I could not even name. Now I know I was searching for you”. There’s a raw honesty to his voice, in the way it cracks at every other word. “You've shown me parts of myself I thought long buried. You see past the Viscount, past the duty, past every wall I’ve ever built, and somehow - impossibly - you love what you find there. It makes me want to be worthy of that love.”

He reaches into his coat pocket, withdrawing a small velvet box. 

“You are stubborn and obstinate, and unyielding to plain, common sense, as you well know it,” he says it in that particular tone, equal parts exasperation and devotion. Her sister's laugh is a soft, soft thing. 

Edwina is quite sure Lord Bridgerton has forgotten they even have an audience. 

“And you are gentle, and kind and I love… I love every part of you. You are the perfect counter to my every argument, and my partner in every battle, and my home in every storm”. His voice is rough, cracking at the edges. “I promise to protect you as fiercely as you protect others. And to love you with the same selfless devotion you've shown to everyone around you, to everyone lucky enough to be loved by you."

He opens the velvet box then. The ring nestled within isn't the Bridgerton betrothal ring Edwina once wore. Instead, gold and emerald catches the firelight.

"So, Kathani Sharma," There’s something impossibly vulnerable about him, his own eyes bright with emotion, "though I know you've already agreed to marry me, will you once again tell me that you will do me the honor of becoming my wife?" 

"Yes," Kate manages through watery eyes, not even a breath after the question is asked. "Yes, of course, yes."

The smile that breaks across Lord Bridgerton's face is blinding. He slides the ring onto Kate’s, finger before rising to pull her into an embrace that skirts way past the edge of propriety.

The room erupts in a cascade of joy. Violet is the first to reach them, tears already falling as she pulls both Kate and Lord Bridgerton into an embrace. “Oh, my dearests” she says, voice thick with emotion.

Mr. Benedict pulls the Viscount out of his mother’s arms while the dowager Viscountess still clings to Kate, hugging his brother tight and clapping him hard on the shoulders.

“That was quite the speech, brother,” Mr. Benedict drawls, pulling away while smiling. “Though I do wonder what your backup plan was if she'd said no.”

“That is why he added she had already accepted the proposal in private. So she couldn’t have the chance”. Mr. Colin interjects with a grin, draping an arm over his brother’s shoulder. 

“Perhaps I should uninvite both of you from the wedding” Lord Bridgerton says, deadpan, but the effect is lost when The Duke approaches him and pulls him into another hug that speaks of years of brotherhood. Something is said between them that cannot be heard from where she’s seated, something that makes the Viscount swallow thickly before nodding to the Duke.

Her attention is pulled from the moment with the cacophony of voices surrounding Kate. Edwina watches her sister is absorbed into a whirlwind of Bridgertons.

-and I'll finally have a sister wise enough to-” Eloise is saying.

“Hey! I am wise” Daphne protests, but she's laughing, and Kate is laughing too, and Edwina watches it all as if through water, everything slightly distorted, slightly wrong.

Francesca approaches more quietly, offering Kate a shy smile that grows warmer when Kate immediately includes her in the growing circle of sisters.

Newton, who has been circling the growing crowd with increasing excitement, chooses this moment to bark and wedge himself between Lord Bridgerton’s legs, tail wagging furiously.

"I suppose I should remind you," Kate says with that particular arch of her eyebrow, looking at the Viscount "that once we marry, he becomes your responsibility as well."

“I do not recall that being written in the marriage contract” Lord Bridgerton says, though his hand drops to scratch behind Newton's ears. “Besides, he's deliberately ruined three of my finest boots Kate. Out of spite, I tell you” but his voice has gone soft around the edges.

"He comes with me," Kate reminds him primly. "Package deal, my lord."

Gregory practically bounces in place beside his brother. "Does this mean Newton will live at Bridgerton House? Can he sleep in my room sometimes?"

"Absolutely not," Anthony says at the same time Kate says, "Of course"

They exchange a look before Lord Bridgerton rolls his eyes with a smile. “We’ll see” he tells his brother.

“He shall sleep in my room, not yours” Hyacinth tells Gregory

“No he will not!” 

Edwina knows by now where this is going, and right at this moment her mama is approaching Kate, her eyes glistening. She cups Kate’s face in her hands. Something passes between them, some private understanding that makes fresh tears spill down Kate's cheeks, and Edwina feels suddenly, achingly alone in a room full of people.

She knows that his is her cue to approach her sister.

She forces herself to rise then, to join the tide of well-wishers. Her feet feel leaden as she approaches Kate, but her smile stays firmly in place. She's had practice at this, after all.

"Kate," she manages, and her sister turns to her with such genuine joy that for a moment, Edwina almost believes her own performance. When they embrace, she catches the familiar scent of Kate's lilly soap mixed with something else - a hint of Lord Bridgerton's sandalwood scent that seems to cling to her now wherever she goes. 

"I'm so happy for you, didi," she whispers, the childhood endearment tasting of memories that suddenly feel impossibly far away. Kate's arms tighten around her, and Edwina wonders if her sister can feel the slight tremor in her hands, the way her heart hammers against her ribs like a bird trying to escape its cage.

"Truly?" Kate asks softly, pulling back and searching her face.

"Of course," Edwina manages, her smile perfect even as something inside her threatens to shatter. She turns to Lord Bridgerton, inclining her head with precise grace. "My lord."

He acknowledges her with a gentle nod, and then his eyes are immediately drawn back to Kate.

She steps back before the mask can slip, before someone might notice how her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. But no one is looking at her anyway.

The initial excitement gradually settles into something more contained, the room naturally dividing into smaller clusters of conversation. It reminds Edwina of watching ink drops spread in water - the way the colors separate and reform into distinct patterns, leaving her somehow apart from it all.

She watches Kate settle on the settee beside Eloise and Francesca, Newton curled contentedly at her feet. Her sister's hands move animatedly as she speaks, the emerald ring catching the light with each gesture. The sight of it makes something cold curl in Edwina's stomach.

"It suits her, doesn't it?"

Lady Danbury's voice makes Edwina start. She hadn't noticed the older woman's approach, too absorbed in her observations. There's something knowing in Lady Danbury's gaze that makes Edwina's spine stiffen.

"The ring?" Edwina keeps her voice carefully light. "Yes, it's lovely."

"I meant happiness," Lady Danbury says mildly, though there's steel beneath the gentility. "It suits your sister remarkably well."

Edwina watches the Viscount crosses the room to join Kate, perching on the settee's arm beside her. His hand finds its way to the nape of her sister's neck. It would be scandalous, such an unconscious gesture of intimacy in a room full of people. But tonight, nobody says anything. Because they are among family. They are all , now, family.

"Kate has always deserved happiness," Edwina replies.

"Indeed." Lady Danbury's cane taps once against the floor. "Which is why it would be... unfortunate if anything were to cast a shadow over it."

The implication lands like a slap on the face. "I would never -" Edwina begins, heat rising in her cheeks.

Just then, a burst of laughter cuts her off, drawing her attention. Mr.Colin is regaling Daphne and the Duke with some tale, while Mr. Benedict adds commentary from his perch by the fireplace. Gregory and Hyacinth hover at the edges, clearly trying to appear old enough to be included.

"I do hope," Lady Danbury continues, her voice dropping lower, "that we've all learned the importance of allowing love its natural course."

The words echo strangely in Edwina's mind, calling back to conversations about duty, about what makes a proper match in the eyes of the ton. She remembers Lady Danbury's careful maneuvering during her own courtship, the way she'd tried to protect the Sharma family's interests. Edwina’s most of all.

Now that same sharp attention is focused on protecting her sister, it seems.

Something uncomfortable unfurls in Edwina's chest - a dawning awareness she's not quite ready to name. She watches Kate lean into Lord Bridgerton's touch, watches the easy way he bends to whisper something that makes her sister laugh for the hundredth time tonight. The sound carries across the room, bright and unfettered. She is always laughing nowadays, in his presence.

"Kate seems different," Edwina says, not quite sure why she's voicing the observation aloud.

"Love changes us all," Lady Danbury replies. "Though perhaps what you're seeing is simply your sister without the weight of everyone else's happiness on her shoulders."

She's saved from having to respond by Mama joining them, her mother's eyes still bright with happy tears. But Lady Danbury's words linger, settling into Edwina's bones like winter frost - a warning wrapped in wisdom.

The evening continues its gentle flow around her, but Edwina finds herself increasingly adrift in its current. She watches Kate accept a glass of champagne from the Duke, watches the viscount's arm slip around her sister's waist as if it belongs there. Watches the way the Bridgertons have absorbed Kate into their fold as if she has always belonged there too.

She makes her excuses not long after, citing a headache. Kate's concern is immediate, genuine, and that somehow makes it worse.

"I'm fine, didi" Edwina assures her, forcing a smile. "Just very tired. I shall see you tomorrow, yes?” she says, while hugging her sister once more.

She pretends not to notice Lady Danbury's knowing gaze following her retreat.

In the quiet of the hallway, Edwina lets her carefully maintained expression slip. The sound of laughter follows her up the stairs.

The headache she'd feigned begins to pulse behind her eyes, real now, fed by thoughts she can't quite silence.

The engagement was formally announced in both The Times and The Morning Post on August 28th, triggering an avalanche of social calls and congratulations. 

August 29, 1814 - Morning 

The papers arrive precisely at eight, as they always do.

She catches the way Mama's hands tremble slightly as she unfolds The Times , watches her mother's eyes scanning the pages. Lady Danbury, seated across from them at the breakfast table, holds The Morning Post like a victory flag.

"Ah," Lady Danbury's voice carries that particular note of satisfaction she reserves for perfectly executed plans. "Here it is."

Edwina's teacup clinks against its saucer too sharply. She doesn't reach for the paper, but the words seem to float across the table anyway, stark black letters burning themselves into her vision:

Forthcoming Marriages

Viscount A. Bridgerton and Miss K. Sharma

Lady Violet Bridgerton is pleased to announce the engagement of her eldest son, Anthony Bridgerton, 9th Viscount Bridgerton, of Bridgerton House, to Miss Kathani Sharma, beloved eldest daughter of the late Mr. Sharma and stepdaugther of Lady Mary Sharma of Somerset. The wedding will take place in four weeks at the Bridgerton family estate, Aubrey Hall, in a private ceremony for close family and friends.

Such simple words for something that feels like a door closing. 

(She remembers another announcement, months ago, her own name where Kate's now sits. The paper had called her the Diamond then, had mentioned the Queen's favor. She'd kept that copy, stored it away like a trophy. She wonders if Kate will do the same.)

"Both papers," Mary says, her smile warm and proud as she trades with Lady Danbury The Times for The Morning Post . 

"It seems like the Viscount has finally learned how to do everything properly." Lady Danbury comments while sipping her tea. 

Of course he has , Edwina thinks, her throat tight. He's in fact doing everything properly now – the long promenades, the opera visits, the poetry readings. The gifts and endless calls. Declaring his love for all to see and hear. 

A genuine proposal.

All the things she'd wished for during their courtship, all the romance she'd convinced herself would come in time. He gives it all freely to Kate.

"I imagine we’ll be filled with calling cards by noon," Lady Danbury remarks, clearly pleased. "The ton will want to offer their congratulations in person."

Kate enters then, already dressed for the day in a deep blue walking dress that makes her skin glow. There's a lightness to her movements. Happiness has somehow made her sister weightless.

"Is it the announcement?" Kate asks, sitting at the table and reaching for a piece of toast. Edwina watches Mama and Lady Danbury both reaching over to show her what has been printed.

Kate's cheeks flush as she reads, that secret smile she seems to wear constantly these days growing wider. Her fingers tracing the printed words with such tenderness that Edwina has to look away.

She stands abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. Three pairs of eyes turn to her, and she forces her lips into what she hopes passes for a smile. "I just remembered I promised to write to Miss Penelope, and I want to be done with it before callers arrive, yes?”

She doesn't wait for an answer, doesn't trust herself to look at Kate's face. Her feet carry her swiftly from the room, up the stairs, each step measured until she's safely behind her closed door.

Only then does she allow herself to sink onto her bed, fingers clutching at her sheets. The morning sun streams through her window, catching on the brass handles of her writing desk where, in the bottom drawer, a worn copy of The Morning Post still lies, announcing a different engagement, a different future.

She doesn't cry. She won't. But she sits there, very still. 

She tries to pretend the tightness in her chest is anything but what it is.

I don't love him , she tells herself firmly. I can't possibly still love him. Can I?

Could she?

August 30, 1814 - Afternoon

The calling cards pile up like autumn leaves on Lady Danbury's silver tray. Edwina watches them accumulate while seated near the drawing room window, each new arrival bearing congratulations. The room fills with ladies cooing over Kate's ring, while Edwina sits with perfect posture and a smile that feels painted on. 

Kate catches her eye across the room, wincing slightly as Lady Cowper’s voice fills the air.

Edwina's tea has gone cold at this point. She doesn't remember the last time she took a sip.

The following weeks saw the traditional reading of the banns over three consecutive Sundays in September, with both Miss Sharma and Lord Bridgerton being the perfect picture of propriety through the course of it.

September 4, 1814 - Morning 

The first reading of the banns echoes through the church like a countdown. Edwina fixes her gaze on the stained glass window above the altar, watching dust motes dance in the colored light while the vicar's voice drones on about impediments and lawful causes.

She feels rather than sees Kate shift beside her, knows without looking that her sister's eyes have found Lord Bridgerton 's,  sitting at the other pew with his family. They do that now – reach for each other in small moments, as if making up for lost time. As if they can't quite believe they're allowed this.

Edwina's fingers dig into her prayer book. While Kate is planning her future besides her, Edwina’s stretches out before herself, but instead of blank as untouched parchment, all she can see are the ink stains left behind.

September 11, 1814 - Morning

"The dressmaker says the final fitting will be next week," Kate tells her over breakfast, excitement barely contained. "Though honestly, I don't know why I need quite so many new gowns."

"Nonsense," Lady Danbury interjects. "A viscountess must have a proper wardrobe."

Viscountess. 

Edwina pushes her eggs around her plate, remembering how she once practiced that title in the mirror. Viscountess Bridgerton . How elegant it had sounded. How right.

"I have a headache," Edwina announces abruptly, standing. "I think I'll lie down."

“Are you alright bon? That's the third time this week you complain of a headache” Kate's voice carries that familiar note of concern. "Perhaps we should call for a doctor—"

"It's just the change in weather," Edwina cuts her off, not quite meeting her sister's worried gaze. "I only need to rest."

She feels Kate's concerned gaze follow her from the room, and that makes it worse somehow. That Kate still cares, still notices. That she can be so happy and still have room to worry about Edwina. 

It would be easier if Kate were cruel about it. If she gloated.

September 15, 1814 - Afternoon

They're in the drawing room when the Viscount arrives unexpectedly, rain-damp and grinning. He does not wait to be announced or let in. Lady Danbury doesn’t bat an eye "I know it's improper," he says, eyes only for Kate, "but I had to show you—"

Kate's entire face lights up. "You found it!"

"Took half the morning, but yes."

Edwina rises before she can see what treasure he's brought that makes Kate's entire face light up like that. She doesn't wait to be excused, doesn't acknowledge her sister calling her name. She simply leaves, letting their murmured voices fade behind her. 

September 18, 1814 - Afternoon

The final reading of the banns echoes like the last notes of a song. Afterwards, what remains of the ton gather in front of the church, the autumn air carries fragments of conversation.

"—the trails near Aubrey Hall are perfect this time of year my love, there’s a clearing near—"

"—the gardens in Greece —"
"Oh, do shut up about Greece, Colin, or I swear—"

“I'm quite ready for the peace of the countryside—"

"—such a pity about the prince returning to Prussia… and after the Queen had hinted at introductions—"

Once they arrive at Lady Danbury’s home, she sits at her window instead, watching the garden below as the light fades. In less than a week, they'll leave for Aubrey Hall. In ten days, Kate will be married. Everything is moving so fast, yet Edwina feels frozen in place, stuck in the space between what was and what will be.

She presses her forehead to the cool glass and closes her eyes. I love him , she thinks, even though the words feel hollow now. I must love him. What else could this ache be?

Below, she hears Kate's laugh float up through the twilight, followed by the Viscount's deeper voice. She doesn not know which sound pains her more. 

September 19, 1814 - Morning

The modiste's private salon feels too warm, even with the windows open to catch the September breeze. Edwina watches as Madame Delacroix fusses over the draping of Kate's wedding saree, the rich red catching the afternoon light. Their mothers hover nearby, offering suggestions about the fall of the fabric, while Eloise reads a book from her perch by the window.

Kate's things lie scattered across a nearby settee – her regular dress, her reticule, various papers that seem to follow her sister everywhere these days. A leather-bound small journal has slipped partially from her handbag, its pages fanned open as if inviting inspection.

While the mamas are distracted by a debate about the proper length of the pallu, Edwina finds her hands already reaching, already opening to a random page where Kate's familiar neat script fills the margins.

Guest List - Final Count
Family quarters:
- Sharma  (2)
- Bridgerton (7)
- Lady Danbury (1)
- Duke and Duchess of Hastings (2)
- Nursery (1) 

September 26 - Final arrangements for Aubrey Hall
1. Speak to Mrs. Wilson about room assignments
2. Confirm menu changes with cook
3. Review timing of ceremonies with Anthony

A different handwriting cuts across the page below – masculine, bold

•  I've already spoken to Mrs. Wilson. (Benedict requests a room far from ours. Says something about wanting to sleep through the night)
  
  

• Must remember to keep Colin away from the wedding feast preparations.

Their words dance across the pages, interwoven like clasped hands.

She drops the journal as if it burns. 

September 19, 1814 - Afternoon

When it happens, it happens over golden bangles, of all things.

They've barely entered Lady Danbury’s parlor after returning from the modiste, when the footman announces Lord Bridgerton's early arrival. He's waiting in the drawing room, and of course, Kate's entire demeanor shifts at just the mention of his name.

"You are early, my lord. You weren’t meant to call until half past three" Kate says as she enters, though her mock reproach carries no weight given how her face brightens at the sight of him.

"I couldn't wait." Lord Bridgerton rises, something hidden behind his back. "I had these commissioned weeks ago. They've finally arrived from the jeweler's, and I wanted to be the one to—"

He reveals an ornate box, deep burgundy velvet catching the afternoon light.

“Anthony” Kate whispers as soon as she opens it, looking up at him with a smile. He stares at her with so much love in his eyes. “They are beautiful” 

“Allow me” the Viscount says, and Edwina watches as he places delicate gold around Kate's wrist, his fingers lingering perhaps a moment too long against her pulse point.

Allow me , as Kate dropped one of her bangles on that cold stone floor. As Lord Bridgerton instinctively leaned down to help. Allow me, as they crouched on the ground, on a brief, stolen moment. Allow me, as he handed Kate her mother’s bangles, their fingers brushing. 

Something inside Edwina finally , irrevocably, snaps .

"I can't do this."

The words fall into the room like stones into still water. Lady Danbury's fan stills mid-motion. Mama's gentle smile freezes. Kate's hand drops from where Lord Bridgerton had been holding it. But Edwina is already moving, already running, her feet carrying her through familiar corridors that suddenly feel too narrow.

“Edwina!” Kate shouts, chasing her, while the Viscount chases Kate further into the house.

Edwina makes it to her room before Kate, but not fast enough to close the door before her sister enter’s the room, Lord Bridgerton close behind her. The fury that's been building for weeks, months maybe, rises in her throat like bile.

"Bon," Kate starts, reaching for her, but Edwina steps back. She sees the hurt flashing across her sister's face, but she cannot bring herself to care.

"Do not touch me!" she spits, and watches Kate flinches. “How dare you stand there and act concerned when you chose him? How can you choose him?" The words tear from her throat. "After everything he did to drive us apart?!”

Kate goes very still. 

"Edwina-" Kate starts, but Edwina cuts her off with a laugh that sounds foreign to her own ears.

"Did he tell you what he said about you? That he called you a thorn, Kate? “ Easily removed from the blossoming flower of our lives” ? Did you tell her that you wished her gone to India?" She throws the last words at him, and they taste like poison on her tongue.

The Viscount takes an aborted step forward, as if to shield Kate from her words - from the truth they carry - , as if to put himself in between Edwina and her sister. But Kate raises a hand, stopping him without even looking. 

The silent communication between them only feeds the bitter thing growing in Edwina's chest.

"He never wavered in his pursuit of me, Kate. He never wavered in his intention to marry me ! The only reason you are to be his bride is because I refused him. He would have gone through with our wedding if I hadn't been the one to end it. How can you stand there wearing his gifts? How can you…  you were his second choice, Kate! Don’t you see that?!"

"Miss Edwina -," Lord Bridgerton's voice is sharp, cutting, but Kate turns to look at him.

"Anthony," she says, and there’s a warning in her sister’s voice… Lord Bridgerton stills immediately. Something passes between them in that moment - an entire conversation in a single look.

"Kate-" his tone is pleading now, but her sister just keeps staring at him.

The viscount's jaw clenches. And then, whatever battle they had been locked into in those few seconds seems to be over. He yields, nodding his head before turning to leave the room.

"Of course ," Edwina says, her voice cutting, "of course you'd send him away. Heaven forbid he hear all the damage he has caused to our family.”

For a moment, it looks as if he might refuse to leave, but Kate's hand touches his briefly where he’s still standing behind her, a fleeting thing. Then he steps out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

The silence stretches between them now, and in it Edwina can hear her own harsh breathing, can feel the wild beating of her heart. She wants Kate to break, to cry, to feel even a fraction of the hurt that's been eating away at Edwina since that day at the altar.

"Edwina." Kate's voice carries that familiar soothing tone, the one she's used since Edwina was a child. It makes Edwina's skin crawl, to hear it "Please, let us discuss this when you’re calmer-"

"Do not patronize me!" she shouts. “Stop treating me as if I am a child!” She paces the length of the room, unable to look at Kate. "I tried," Edwina says, her voice trembling. She hates how fragile it sounds. Hates how it betrays her "I truly tried to be happy for you both. To forget how everything fell apart. To forget-” She cuts herself off, throat tight.

"Edwina—"

"I still love him." The words spill out before she can stop them, and she watches them land, hoping… she does not know what she’s hoping for. What she expects. Perhaps doubt, or guilt, in her sister's eyes. 

Instead, Kate's face softens with something that looks terribly like pity.

"No, Bon. You do not" Kate says softly. "You do not even know him. You love the idea of him, the-”

"You do not get to tell me how I feel!" The words burst out of her. "You lost that power when you betrayed me. When you allowed me to make a fool of myself over him-"

“When have I ever done that, bon?” Kate says, her voice rising slightly, cutting her off. “When I told you how he'd schemed at the races, you dismissed it all because you wanted to be courted. I told you his intentions were about duty alone, that he couldn't give you what you deserved.. I told you. He told you himself. You chose not to listen. You chose him over me at every turn. You chose what you wanted over everything I tried to tell you!”

"You were trying to control me!," Edwina shouts, her voice sharp. "Projecting what you wanted onto me as if I have asked for it, trying to control my life as if I were still a child who needs your protection—"

"I have always done what you asked of me" Kate's voice steadies, though Edwina can see her hands trembling at her sides. " You say you didn't ask for any of it, Bon, but you did. You asked, and I tried, even as it tore me apart inside. You asked me to help you secure his proposal, and I tried. You asked me to spend time with him despite my objections against him, and I did."

“And look how well that turned out for you” Edwina laughs, bitterly, even though her eyes sting with the tears that threaten to fall. 

"Neither of us knew that… what would happen” Kate almost whispers, her voice softening like she's approaching a wounded animal. She takes a step forward, trying to hold her gaze " Bon, I never meant to hurt you- "

"I won't attend," Edwina says suddenly, and something like satisfaction curl - and cuts and bleeds - through her chest as Kate stops in her tracks, her eyes widening with shock. "I cannot watch you marry him. I will not attend your wedding"

​​"Edwina—"

“Will you go through with it?”

And that it is it, she realizes. That is, deep down, what she hopes for. She hopes Kate will say no. She hopes Kate will choose her. Just this once.

Edwina sees her sister's hand tremble where it's pressed against her skirts, her eyes glistening in the afternoon light, and for a moment… for a moment, Edwina sees it. The doubt. The hesitation.

But when Kate speaks, her voice carries a quiet certainty. 

“Yes”.

Edwina can’t hold back the tears anymore. They spill down her cheeks, hot and shameful.

“"He didn't even fight for you" she says, voice cracking at every other word. “He couldn’t even be the one to leave Kate. I had to do it. And you…”

"You think you know everything that has happened," Kate's voice catches slightly. "But you do not”

"I know enough." The words come out small, childlike."We're sisters. And you are allowing him to come between us, didi, you are—"

"Do not do this, Edwina." Kate's voice trembles. "Do not. Don't paint me as the cruel one, not when you yourself reduced our bond to blood."

Half-sister. Shame floods Edwina cheeks, but she shakes her head, welcomes the anger that follows swiftly, familiar as breathing now.

"And now you reduce it to him."

"No." Kate says, shaking her head. "You were the one who did that too”

"I cannot watch you marry him.” She says, her voice almost a whisper "Please do not ask that of me." 

"I am not asking anything of you anymore, Bon." Kate's eyes are bright with unshed tears. "For once, this is not about what you want. You speak of choices. This is about what I choose."

“Him”

“My happiness”. And for the first time in this entire conversation, Kate’s voice breaks. She’s quick to wipe away the tears that gather at the corner of her eyes. “I cannot… I will not sacrifice it anymore. Not even for you.”

The finality in Kate's tone makes something wild and desperate rise in Edwina's throat. "Even when I could still love him? You would marry him, even then?"

Kate closes her eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath. 

"That is something you will have to reconcile with yourself," Kate says quietly when she opens them. "Just as I would have to, had you decided to go through with the wedding"

If I go through with this wedding, it will have nothing to do with you. The truth of it sits heavy in Edwina's chest – she would have married him. She had been ready to, when she went to the Queen. It was only watching the King that the realization had dawned, like sunrise breaking through, that whatever feelings Lord Bridgerton had for her sister, he would never have those for her. That she deserved better. That he could not give her the love she hoped for. That he refused to do it.

Kate's feelings for him hadn't mattered then. And they shouldn't have mattered , she clings to the thought. Not after everything. 

But she can see how her own feelings won't matter now either.

She swaps the tears still clinging to her cheeks, and takes a deep breath herself. "Then I suppose we have nothing left to discuss."

Kate stares at her for a long moment, and Edwina wishes she could read her sister’s eyes as she once was capable of. But she doesn’t know this Kate at all. Perhaps she never truly did. 

Whatever it is that Kate sees when she looks at her, it doesn’t change her decision. She turns around, walking to the door. Before she opens it though, she pauses. Breathes deeply again.

"I hope one day you'll understand, bon. That I'm not choosing between you and happiness. They should be… they should be one and the same. If they are not, I just hope… I just hope someday they can be."

She leaves before Edwina can respond, the door closing behind her with a gentle click. Edwina sinks onto her bed, and the anger drains away, leaving something hollow in its wake.

September 19, 1814 - Evening 

The silence in her room feels different now that she has finally voiced her decision. 

Edwina sits at her vanity, watching her reflection fragment in the failing light.
She should light a candle.
She should ring for tea.
She should do something other than replay Kate's words over and over in her head like a poorly tuned pianoforte.

I warned you.

(But that's not how the story went. She was there. She lived it. She's the one who was deceived, the one who was blind-sided, the one-)

The pad of her thumb traces her ring finger, muscle memory reaching for a ring that isn't there anymore. She remembers how heavy it had felt, that first day. How she'd practiced signing her name with "Viscountess" attached, the way the title had rolled off her tongue like honey.

No, bon. You do not even know him. You love the idea if him. 

"I loved him," she whispers to her reflection, but the words sound hollow even to her own ears. She tries again: "I love him."

Her reflection offers no confirmation. Instead, she sees her sister's face.

No. She will not feel guilty. She will not.

She stands abruptly, pacing the familiar confines of her room. Kate is meant to feel guilt. To realize what she's done. To understand that Edwina's absence at her wedding is a consequence of her own actions. Of her own choices. She is the wronged party here. She is the one who was betrayed. She is—

You reduced our bond to blood.

Her hands shake as she finally lights the candle, the flame casting strange shadows on the walls. She remembers the look on Kate's face when she'd said those words. Half sister . Like something vital had been broken. She remembers thinking, in that moment of fury, that she'd finally found the thing that would hurt Kate the most. Just like she had been hurt. 

(She remembers, too, being scared of darkness, and Kate’s hand holding her own, the two of them awake until the early morning light. Remembers how she kept failing at French, and Kate’s endless patience. How nervous she was about the ton and the Queen. And then there’s Kate. Kate. Kate).

The candle flickers, and Edwina watches the flame dance, distorted through tears she refuses to acknowledge. She tries to hold onto her anger, her hurt, her certainty. But Kate's words keep echoing, keep finding a way inside her head. 

I'm not choosing between you and happiness. They should be… they should be one and the same.

September 21, 1814 - Morning

Two days until the departure for Aubrey Hall. 

The number sits heavy in Edwina's mind as she watches another morning unfold from her window. Below, the street slowly fills with carriages, but the usual parade of callers do no longer stop at their door anymore. They are no longer in the city to do so. The season is over, and with it, her brief reign as Diamond. Now the only visitors are for Kate – the modiste with final adjustments, florists with samples, endless streams of messengers carrying the Viscount's notes.

Lord Bridgerton no longer calls on her sister. 

Her mother stopped trying to change her mind yesterday, after their third argument ended in tears – Mama's, not hers. Edwina had watched her mother's shoulders slump in defeat, had seen the way she'd pressed her handkerchief to her eyes before turning away. Now Mama spends her the day with Kate, helping with preparations, and Edwina pretends not to hear the sound of their voices floating up from below. 

She hasn't seen Kate properly since their fight. Her sister comes and goes like a ghost, leaving before Edwina wakes and returning after she's withdrawn to her room. The house feels strange without Kate's steady presence, all its familiar rhythms slightly off-key. Even the servants move differently, as if the upcoming departure has already cast its shadow over everything.

Sometimes, in the hollow hours between breakfast (taken alone in her room) and dinner (excused with a headache), Edwina catches herself reaching for Kate out of habit – turning to share a joke, seeking advice about a letter, wanting to discuss a book. 

Each time, the absence hits her anew. 

September 21, 1814 - Afternoon

Kate and mama are out for the day, and she sits at the drawing room, a book on her lap. Afternoon shadows stretch long across her floor, and that’s where Lady Danbury finds her.

"Well," she says, dispensing with pleasantries entirely, "have you finished wallowing?"

Edwina straightens her spine. "I'm not—"

"Oh, spare me." Lady Danbury taps her cane sharply against the floor. "Do you know how many conversations I've had with your sister about your future? How much she cares about you, about your happiness?"

"If she cared so much about my happiness, she wouldn't be marrying him. She chose him ."

“She chose love . After spending her entire life ensuring you could do the same." Lady Danbury's eyes are piercing. "She gave up her own season for you. Her dowry. Years of her life. And now, when she finally finds joy, you would deny her that too?" 

The question cracks like a whip. Edwina flushes, not able to stare at Lady Danbury a moment longer.

Lady Danbury rises, imposing. " I've watched you these past months, wondering if you would grow into the woman your sister always believed you could be. How disappointing to find you choosing to remain a child instead."

September 22, 1814 - Morning

The grayness of the september morning does nothing to improve Edwina’s mood as she absently flips through a book of poetry while siting by the window in Lady Danbury's drawing room. The lady herself sits at the table on the corner, sipping her tea in silence. She has said her piece to Edwina and now seems content to ignore her very existence. Mama and Kate are somewhere else in the city, most likely in the company of the Bridgertons.

When the footman appears at the door, Edwina barely glances up.

"My lady. Viscount Bridgerton, here to call on Miss Edwina Sharma," he announces, voice crisp and formal. 

Edwina's head snaps up, the book slipping from her fingers to land with a soft thud on the carpet.

“Thank you. Please show him in” Lady Danbury says, and a moment later, Lord Bridgerton enters the room. 

He stands there for a moment, jaw tight and shoulders set in a strangely familiar way. This is not the man who has courted her sister for the past weeks. Instead, she realizes with a start, this is the man who has courted her , Edwina. Viscount Bridgerton. 

It is astonishing, the distinction between both. How crystal clear she can see it now.

“Lady Danbury” He bows slightly. He turns to Edwina. “Miss Edwina. I hope I’m not intruding” His voice is careful, controlled. 

“Not at all, Lord Bridgerton” Lady Danbury answers, eyebrow raised. “Although your visit is certainly… unexpected”.

"I called in the hopes I might have a moment with Miss Edwina? In private, if possible. Of course, properly chaperoned" He looks back at her, and a flicker of something flashes over his face, before he adds. “That is, if she is agreeable to it”.

Edwina nods, and Lady Danbury calls for a maid to seat at the other side of the room before walking out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. 

The Viscount seats across from her. 

The drawing room feels both too small and impossibly vast. Lord Bridgerton’s posture is rigid, unmovable. 

For a moment, neither speak. 

Finally, he breaks the silence. 

“I owe you an apology. A long overdue one, I'm afraid.” His voice is grave and measured. Proper "I have apologized countless times to Ka- to your sister. Twice to Lady Mary. But I realized, to my great shame, that I never properly apologized to you. And that... that is an egregious failure on my part."

She studies his face, searching for traces of the man she has seen countless times in this drawing room these past few weeks, laughing and talking existing besides her sister. She sees none of it.

"Did Kate send you?" The question slips out before she can stop it. "To convince me to attend the wedding?"

His jaw tightens minutely. "Partially," he admits, and the honesty surprises her. "She has not asked me to, but…I cannot bear to see her hurt. And your absence..." He pauses, choosing his words carefully. "There is no one she loves more than you."

"So this apology is for her benefit?"

"No." he says firmly. "I deeply regret the pain I caused. Everything I could have prevented had I made different choices." His hands clench briefly. “I... I regret the future I ruined. What could have been, between us”.

Edwina blinks, caught off guard. "Between us?"

“Had I made different choices, we might have grown to see each other as family”. 

She remembers the first time they all promenaded in the park after the plan has been set into motion. How happy she had been that day, a suitor beside her, their families around them. Kate smiling under the sun. Lord Bridgerton had joked about something she can no longer recall. But she recalls laughing at it. 

And yet, the thought of calling him brother twists in her gut. 

“I see” she says instead, and watches his shoulders stiffen at her tone. A crack in the imposing image of the Viscount sitting before her. There's something darkly satisfying about breaking through his careful facade.

He stares at her, and she does see it then - perhaps it's the lingering tension in his shoulders, or the careful way he holds himself away from her even from across the room. It mirrors the feeling churning in her own gut, and she realizes with startling clarity that he doesn't want to be here any more than she wants him here.

"You resent me." The words come out unbidden. 

"No." His response is immediate. But then he pauses, seeming to reconsider. "I do not… I resent myself more. For not being fully honest as I should have. For continuing down a path when I knew it would lead to heartbreak. For letting things progress as far as they did."

Something in his tone makes her stomach clench. "What do you mean?"

He's quiet for so long she thinks he won't answer. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, almost distant, as if he's remembering something far away. "Did you know I met your sister before I ever met you?"

It throws her off balance, the sudden question, the change in subject. “You are mistaken, my lord” she says “She has said she heard you at the Conservatory Ball, but I was the one to introduce you to her, the same night the Queen named me Diamond."

But Lord Bridgerton shakes his head. 

"No. I’ve met her at the park one day, before Lady Danbury’s ball. At dawn. We raced our horses." A ghost of a smile crosses his face, gone so quickly Edwina thinks she might have imagined it. "She won, of course. I didn't learn her name then. She refused to give it to me"

Oh . She hadn’t known that. Kate had never mentioned it. Kate has never mentioned many things. She thought… Well. She’s unsure why this matters now.

"Then, as you said, at the Conservatory Ball, when she overheard me speaking about… my requirements for a wife… we spoke that night as well. She refused me her name a second time" 

"Why are you telling me this?" Edwina's hands twist in her lap.

"Because you deserve the truth, even if the truth is not a kind one." He attention turns to her fully now, and there's something almost gentle in his expression.  

It dawns on her then, slow and terrible and all at once. 

“That is why , isn’t it?” she spits, anger boiling through her veins “That is why you decided to court me. Not my accomplishments, not for myself . But because I was Kate's sister !"

Her voice rings lounder in the silence that follows, that stretches between them for a moment too long… before he shakes his head. 

“That is not… I was set to marry this season” he says, each word  measured, careful. “I had decided whoever the Queen chose as Diamond would be the one I should take as a wife. It was... practical. Efficient. The Queen's choice would be accomplished enough, proper enough. Everything society expected of a viscountess Bridgerton. When I realized you were Kate's sister..." He trails off, and that is the first time he seems to be struggling to find the right words.  "I felt… compelled. To prove myself the best suitor for your hand. I didn't understand then, why I took it so personally. Why… why it mattered so much.”

She stares at him wide eyed, not quite believing the words she’s hearing. 

“The courtship," she demands, sharply, "all of it. Was it ever about me at all ?"

“It is not that simple, Miss Edw-”

"It is!” Edwina cuts him off. “Why not pursue her, then? She was right there. " She asks, incredulous. 

“I didn't want to marry for love , Miss Edwina. I did not lie to you about that”. There's a shift in his tone, subtle but unmistakable - the careful control almost giving way to frustration. As if he's trying to make her understand something she's deliberately refusing to see  “I wanted an amiable partner, to share a pleasant life with. Love would have no part in it. I never hid that from you” 

“But why ?” She asks, and she knows now that perhaps this should have been the question she should have asked all along. From their very first conversation. She does not know why she never has.

"When my father died-" He stops. Lord Bridgerton then runs a hand through his hair, and… and the gesture is so uncharacteristi c of him, of the Viscount seated across from her, that it startles Edwina, to see it. “I watched it happen. I was there, I saw-" he stops abruptly, like the words are choking him. He clears his throat. "I did not want to be the cause of such pain. I did not want to cause that kind of wreckage in someone else. And I did not want to experience it myself. And your sister…” and is only then that a hint of vulnerability creeps into his voice “I was terrified of the way she made me feel." 

He falls silent then, before pressing his fingers against his eyes in a gesture that seems familiar to him. When he drops his hand, she can see how hard he's fighting to maintain his composure. His shoulders are still straight, his posture still proper, and yet…He stares at some point beyond her shoulder, like he's seeing that day again.

"But then I almost lost her.” He breaks off again, twisting his signet ring on his finger . "I realized then that I would rather have whatever time I could with her, be it fifty years or five minutes, than spend a lifetime regretting not allowing myself to love her."

Something cold settles in her stomach. 

"So you proposed to me because you knew you would never love me," she says slowly, and it’s llike a key turning effortlessly in a lock, how it suddenly makes sense. "Because marrying me was safe."

She sees shame flash in his eyes, but he doesn't deny it. 

It is one thing to know he didn't love her, wouldn't ever come to love her. But this - this complete indifference to who she was, this utter blindness to her person- 

He had never seen her. Not truly. Not as Edwina, the girl who loved poetry, who enjoyed the breeze of the countryside but preferred the lights of a ballroom. Who had a secret fondness for orange-flavored sweets but would never eat them in public because they stained her gloves. Who never much cared for biscuits, and enjoyed tea served with cake. Who liked quadrilles more than watlzes. He never truly saw her because he had been busy looking over her shoulder, just like that day on that altar. Because every conversation and every dance had been colored by Kate's presence. Even when her sister wasn't there, she had been there. In his mind, in his choices, in the way his eyes would drift to empty doorways. 

She feels adrift . 

"I am sorry." She can hear it in his voice. She can hear it tainted with genuine remorse. "I should have called it all off. After the Sheffields, that was the plan, but-"

“What do you mean, that was the plan? You arranged for our wedding to proceed with haste after that dinner" she cuts across his words. 

Once more, something flashes in his eyes - pain or guilt or shame, she can't tell anymore. He seems about to speak, but hesitates.

“You said I deserved the truth, my lord. Even if it wasn’t a kind one”

He nods then. Resigned. 

"I could not… I had no other choice."

And suddenly she knows, with a certainty that steals her breath: 

" Kate” She says. “Kate.. she asked you. To proceed with the wedding."

His silence is the confirmation she doesn’t even need.

She thinks of her sister in those days after the dinner - how quiet she'd been, how she'd throw herself into wedding preparations with an almost manic energy. All this time, Edwina had thought it was guilt over what had transpired with the Sheffields. 

The story shifts and rearranges itself in her mind, pieces falling into place with terrible clarity. The careful distance Kate had maintained. Her insistence that she would leave for India as soon as Edwina was married. How Lord Brigerton had stopped calling on Danbury’s house at all. How she had saw him only on what would be their wedding day.

She had worked so hard to convince herself that his distant manner was simply his nature, that his approach to courtship and the engagement was proof of his propriety rather than his indifference. She had mistaken his efficiency for eagerness. She had constructed an entire love affair from scattered crumbs of attention.

The fairytale shatters completely. It leaves only the messy, painful truth behind.

"Did she know?" The question comes out barely above a whisper, because she needs to know. She has to. "Did she know you loved her then?"

"No." And the relief Edwina feels at his answer seems to give back the breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding. 

(Looking back to this moment, she will think it strange, how easily she knew this to be true.). 

Lord Bridgerton looks away, and there's something almost lost in his expression. "I didn't know she loved me either. We were both-" he breaks off, searching for words. “We didn’t talk , back then. We didn’t know how to.”

When he looks back at her, she has the sudden sensation that she barely recognizes his face.

Gone is the reformed rake who would make a perfect husband, the gallant viscount who courted her with his proper manners. Gone is even the man she's watched court her sister these past weeks with heated glances and barely contained passion. This Anthony Bridgerton is someone else entirely - someone whose grief has carved valleys into his soul, who sees love as a death sentence, who twists devotion and destruction together until they're inseparable.

This man, with his darkness and his fears, his desperate love for her sister that borders on obsession - he's a stranger to her.

"Your mind works in ways I cannot fathom." she says finally, and she can hear the exhaustion in her own voice. “You…” she searches for words that won't come. How do you tell someone their love is terrifying? That how they think about it is twisted, morbid in a way that makes her skin crawl?

You do not even know him. You love the idea if him. 

"I do not know why my sister has chosen you" Edwina says, the words burning her throat. I do not know how my sister loves you , it’s what she wants to say instead. "But she has. I just hope… I just hope she does not regret it."

Anthony regards her for a long moment, and there is something in his gaze - something she can’t quite read. "No. Kate has never chosen me over you, Miss Edwina. Not once." His voice is clipped. "At every turn, she has chosen you . Even when it broke her heart. Even… when it meant giving me up. I have told you this before. There’s no one else she loves more than you"

That same something is present in his voice, making her pause. She studies him more carefully, sees the tension thrumming beneath the surface. And then- 

"You're afraid," she breathes, the realization making her dizzy. "You're afraid she'll choose me again."

His jaw clenches, and in that moment she finally understands his words that day, at their wedding. 

‘-The thorn easily removed from the blossoming flower of our lives.
Once we marry, she will return to India, as she wishes. 

-And that is what you now wish? 

-That is what I now know ’.

Something about his answer had bothered her then, but she couldn’t quite understand why. He had been wounded, she realizes it now. Hurt that Kate would leave for India, would leave him so easily.

"I love her too much," he says, "to ever put her in a position where she must choose, Miss Edwina. I know… I know what I would risk if I were fool enough to do so."

A strange calm settles over her while she watches him. She does not miss the irony of it. That this might be the first time he actually sees her as her own person. The first time he shows her any real respect. 

They're two armies on opposite sides of a battlefield, and Kate is the ground they refuse to yield.

“You have wasted your time, my lord”. This is her last stand. Her final act of defiance against this man who crashed into their lives and twisted everything he touched until she couldn't recognize what was real anymore. He’d come with his perfect manners and his perfect words and left only wreckage in his wake. 

He is silent for a long moment. And then he nods, clasping his hands on his lap. It feels strangely as if he’s walking away from the duel this conversation became. 

He is now the Viscount Bridgerton once more. 

“I know I don’t deserve her forgiveness” he says quietly. “Yet, she gives it freely. To both of us”.

The words settle between them like a shared secret, unwanted and true, and just like that, he turns them from rivals to conspirators in the same crime. It makes her chest tight with something that feels dangerously close to shame. 

"If that is truly your decision," he says finally, rising from his chair, "Kate will understand. She won't hold it against you. But I hope... I hope you'll reconsider".

She recognizes his words for what it is, for the comfort he’s offering her. 

“The possibility of you seeing me as family, as a brother…” he looks at her then one final time. “I mourn its loss, Miss Edwina. I know it can no longer be. And I am truly sorry for that".

She hates how genuine he sounds.

As she watches him leave, there's no triumph in this resistance, no satisfaction in her refusal. It does not feel like victory at all.

On September 23rd, the families departed together for Aubrey Hall, where, five days later, Lord Bridgerton and Miss Sharma were married in an intimate ceremony away from society's prying eyes

September 23, 1814 - Morning

The house feels hollow on the morning they leave for Aubrey Hall. Edwina lies in her bed, listening to the sounds of departure floating up through her window - the clatter of trunks being loaded, the shuffle of feet on gravel, the quiet murmur of voices. She catches snippets of Kate's voice, melodious even in the early morning air, and presses her face deeper into her pillow.

She expects tears, but they don't come. There's only a strange emptiness in her chest, as if something vital has been carved out.

When the sounds finally fade and the house settles into silence, she forces herself to rise. Her movements are mechanical - washing her face, pinning her hair, selecting a morning dress. She avoids her reflection, unable to face whatever truth might live in her own eyes today.

The drawing room is awash in late morning light when she enters, and she expects to find it empty. 

Instead, she finds her mother.

"Mama?" Her voice catches. "Why are you here?"

She looks up from the book she had been reading, and something in her gentle expression makes Edwina's throat tight. "Kate asked me to stay. She didn't want you to be alone."

The words don't make sense at first.
Then they do.

"But-" she manages, "but it's her wedding ” her voice trembles at the word. “She needs you there."

"She needs me to take care of you more." Lady Mary sets aside her book, opening her arms.

Edwina falls into them. The tears finally come, hot and stinging.

"Oh mama" The words come out choked. "What have I done?"

"Shhhh. Your sister loves you." Her mother’s voice is soft and steady in her ear. "That has never changed."

" But I chang-..  I don't-  ..know how- ..how to fix this " the sobs come too hard for words. Mary just holds her, letting her cry.

When she calms down, Mary pulls back slightly, wiping Edwina's cheeks with gentle fingers. "You start by seeing it. The rest will come in time."

Edwina leans back into her mother's embrace, feeling younger and older all at once. 

"I'm sorry," she whispers, though Kate is too far away to hear it. "I'm so sorry."

September 24, 1814

The house feels strange without Kate's presence. Edwina catches herself listening for footsteps that won't come, for the scratch of a pen on paper as her sister works through another list. 

Even the morning light seems different, streaming through windows Kate would have opened hours ago.

September 25, 1814

The tea grows cold in Edwina's cup as she stares out the drawing room window. She can't help but picture Aubrey Hall, imagine its great hall transformed with marigolds and lilies.

Mama suggests they might take a turn about Lady Danbury’s garden, but Edwina can't bear to see the flowers there.  

September 26, 1814

She finds herself standing in Kate's room, now stripped of the familiar chaos of the past weeks. A forgotten ribbon lies beneath the vanity – deep blue, like the ones she knows Daphne and Eloise will wear. Like the ones she should have worn.

Edwina picks it up, the silk smooth against her fingers. Somewhere at Aubrey Hall, the Bridgerton sisters are probably helping with final arrangements, sharing the excited whispers that come before a wedding.

The ribbon slips from her grasp, falling silently to the floor.

September 27, 1814

Edwina can't sleep. 

Outside, the night is darkest than any other so far. Her mind wanders to Aubrey Hall, where she knows the haldi ceremony is taking place. She can almost taste the excitement it in the air, can picture the way it would stain her hands yellow as she blessed her sister's path to marriage.

She knows Kate is probably surrounded by Bridgertons, imagines their delight in learning these traditions that will now be partly theirs too. She knows Lord Bridgerton is there too. His own hands and his own face stained yellow. 

"I should be there," she whispers into the darkness of her room.

"Yes," Mama's voice comes from her doorway, somehow unsurprised to find Edwina awake. "You should."

Edwina turns to her mother, finds understanding in her eyes. "Do you think... do you think she's happy?"

"I think she misses you." Mary crosses to sit on the edge of Edwina's bed. "But yes, I think she's happy too."

Edwina nods. 

"I made the wrong choice, didn't I?"

"Yes," Mama says simply. "But there will be other choices, other chances. If you're brave enough to take them."

Edwina lies back against her pillows, imagining the warm glow of candlelight at Aubrey Hall.

Tomorrow, her sister will marry without her there.

The thought sits differently now – still like loss. Not of Lord Bridgerton, she realizes finally. He has barely crossed her mind these past few days. 

No, it feels like the loss of something far more precious.

That the ton saw so little drama in the proceedings perhaps speaks to the genuine nature of the attachment – or perhaps to how much remained hidden from public view.

September 30, 1814

Two days after Kate becomes Viscountess Bridgerton, mama suggests they visit the indian tea shop in Bloomsbury. They hadn’t stepped outside Lady Danbury’s house since the carriages departed for Aubrey Hall the week before. It wouldn't do to have someone spot them in the city when they were supposed to be attending her sister’s wedding. 

But now the Bridgertons have returned to London to give the newlyweds some privacy in their country state, and soon enough they will be departing for their honeymoon, a tour across Europe, as far as Edwina have learned from her mama.

Her mother squeezes her hand when she agrees to go out, and Edwina can see the relief in her eyes.

Now, settled at a small table near the window, Edwina watches steam rise from her cup.

"Try the jalebi," mama suggests, pushing the plate of sweets closer. "Kate always said they reminded her of—"

She stops herself, but Edwina feels the weight of her sister's absence anyway. The space where Kate should be seems to grow larger with each passing hour.

She gives her mama a smile, eating it more to please her than anything else, and looks around the tea shop at some of the other vistants.

That's when she sees him.

He sits three tables away, dark head bent over what appears to be a book. His features carry the same blend of English and Indian heritage that Edwina sees in her mirror. 

She doesn't mean to stare, but there's something about him – a quiet intensity in the way he studies the pages, as if the rest of the world has fallen away.

When he glances up, their eyes meet across the space between their tables. For a moment, time seems to still – like those seconds between lightning and thunder, when the world holds its breath.

He offers a slight smile, proper but warm, before returning to his book. Edwina looks down at her cup, feeling heat rise in her cheeks that has nothing to do with the tea.

"Edwina?" Mama's voice carries a note of concern. "Are you well? You've gone quite flushed."

“I’m fine” she manages, but she can't help stealing another glance at his table.

At that exact moment, another man at the shop entrance spots him. “Bagwell!” he calls, smiling, and who she assumes to be Mr. Bagwell looks up and smiles back. She does not think she has ever seen such a beautiful smile before. 

Edwina watches him gather his things with careful precision. As he rises to join his companion, he tucks the book he had been reading into his coat.

He pauses at the door, looking back just once. Their eyes meet again, and something shifts in Edwina's chest – like puzzle pieces clicking into place. Like the first notes of a song she somehow already knows.

October, 1814

The proper introduction comes three days after the teashop, in Lady Danbury's drawing room. Much later, Edwina will learn he had made discrete inquiries about a young lady he'd seen at the Indian teashop. Somehow, it had ended in the ears of non other than Benedict Bridgerton.

“Miss Edwina, may I introduce you to Mr. Mahan Bagwell.” Lady Danbury announces, eyes sharp, knowing. 

He bows with perfect form, but his eyes carry the same warmth she remembers from the teashop. “Miss Edwina. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance” 

When their hands touch briefly in greeting, Edwina feels that same click of recognition. It is as if she has finally found a word she's been searching for all along.

His calls become regular – twice a week at first, as it is proper. Then three times. They discuss poetry in multiple languages, debate translations, share thoughts on philosophy. 

But she likes it more when they talk about mundane things- how he takes his tea (sugar, but no milk, please), his opinion on her favorite play (favorable, though he thinks the third act needs work), the way he unconsciously adjusts his spectacles when he's about to disagree with her. He tells her about his childhood dog, about the time he accidentally spilled ink all over his father's favorite waistcoat, about how he still can't properly tie a cravat despite his best efforts. She finds herself sharing things too - her secret collection of pressed flowers, how she used to practice dancing with Kate in empty hallways, her sister’s dog who is now residing at Bridgerton house, the way she sometimes makes up stories about strangers she sees in the park.

Kate would love him , Edwina thinks one afternoon, watching Mr. Bagwell meticulously sort his biscuits by size before eating them. 

"A proposal will come soon enough, I'd wager," Lady Danbury says over breakfast one morning, in that particular tone that means she knows more than she's telling. 

The words should make her heart soar - and they do, in a way. But the feeling is immediately tempered by reality.

“I do not think I can accept it. I have no dowry.” she says quietly, pushing her eggs around her plate.

Her mother and Lady Danbury exchange a look across the breakfast table - the kind that makes Edwina feel like she's twelve again, excluded from adult conversations.

“What is it?” she asks, looking between them.

Mama sets down her teacup carefully, and Edwina knows her mother well enough to recognize when she's choosing her words. "About the dowry," she begins, then stops, looking to Lady Danbury as if for permission. When the older woman nods, Mama continues: “Lord Bridgerton had arranged a dowry for you before departing for his honeymoon.” 

"A rather generous one," Lady Danbury adds.

She spends that night staring at her ceiling, turning the knowledge over in her mind. She wonders if Kate knows, if this was Lord Bridgerton's way of ensuring her sister's peace of mind. Or perhaps... perhaps it was something else. 

Perhaps it was an olive branch extended across the battlefield.

A gesture of hope, for some future where they might be family in more than just name.

(She finds she hopes for the latter.)

The proposal comes on a quiet afternoon in Lady Danbury's drawing room. There's no grand gesture, no formal speech – just Mahan looking up from where he’s holding her hand across the settee. 

"I think I've been in love with you since I saw you at that teashop."

When he properly asks for her hand, there’s only one answer she wants to give.

"Yes," she says simply. 

November, 1814

Their wedding is everything Edwina once thought she didn't want – small, intimate, without the ton's attention or the Queen's approval. Yet as she stands before the altar with Mahan, his hands steady in hers, she finds it's everything that matters.

Lady Danbury sits besides her mother in the front pew, wearing a satisfied smile, as if she'd known all along this would be the outcome. 

And the Bridgertons fill some of the other rows.

(Edwina pretends, just for a moment, that Kate is standing behind her, proud and happy with the joy that has finally found her). 

When Mahan mentions his plans to return to India, where his mother's family still resides, Edwina feels something settle in her chest.

"I want to go home too," she tells him, and watches his face light up with relief.

Mama's decision to accompany them comes as a surprise, though perhaps it shouldn't. "India was where I found my greatest happiness," her mother says simply. "Perhaps it's time to return."

The preparations move quickly after that, with Lady Danbury helping arrange their passage. 

"The same ship that brought you here," she tells her. "Rather poetic, one might say"

The night before their departure, Edwina sits at Lady Danbury's desk, ink staining her fingers as she tries to find words for everything she needs to say to Kate. The letter, when finished, feels both too much and not enough.

"I'll make sure she receives it," Lady Danbury promises, taking the sealed envelope. 

As their ship pulls away from the harbor, Edwina stands at the rail with Mahan's arm around her waist, Mama beside them. She watches London fade into the distance. 

Somewhere in her trunk, carefully wrapped in silk, lies her copy of the Persian poetry book Mahan had been reading that day in the teashop, and between the pages, a blue ribbon.  

February, 1815 - India

The morning air carries the familiar scents of her childhood – cardamom and jasmine, mixed with the earthy dampness that follows rain. Edwina watches Mahan from their veranda, smiling as he attempts to coax a reluctant horse into accepting a treat from his palm.

"You must be more confident," she calls out, remembering similar words from years ago. "Horses can sense hesitation.”

Her husband looks up with a grin that still makes her heart skip. "Perhaps I need a better teacher."

"Kate—" Edwina stops, the name catching in her throat like it sometimes does. But the ache is different now, softened by time and understanding. “She was the one who taught me so”

Mahan’s eyes widen. 

“Oh, please do not tell her I just said that” he says quickly, and Edwina laughs.

Later, when Mahan has convinced her to join him for a ride through the village (something she never thought she'd enjoy, yet finds herself craving more each day), they pass the old mango tree where she and Kate used to read during the hottest parts of afternoon. 

That evening, she sits at her writing desk, watching shadows lengthen across the paper as she searches for the right words.

Dearest Kate,

You'll never believe it, but I've taken up a liking to horse-riding…

Her quill moves steadily across the page, filling it with stories of their life here – of Mahan's patience in teaching her to ride, of rediscovering the village through his eyes, of finding pieces of herself she never knew were missing. She writes about their morning rides, about how the countryside looks different from horseback, about all the things she finally understands about why Kate loved it so much.

She doesn't write about how long it's been since her last letter, or about the silence that might mean Kate isn't ready to respond. Instead, she fills the pages with the present – with life and love and the small joys of each day.

I think you would like who I'm becoming , she writes, then pauses, considering. Or perhaps you always knew this version of me. I just hadn’t met her yet.

As she seals the letter, she imagines it crossing oceans and continents, carrying pieces of her heart back to her sister.

The letter, like her love for Mahan, like her growing understanding of herself, feels like another step on a path she was always meant to find.