Winnie closed her eyes, knowing that they would be wet from the anger and desperation she felt on Daphne's behalf.

"Winnifred, I will escort you home," Anthony opened the door and turned to her, waiting for her to leave the room with him. "Today's visit is over."

Winnie inhaled deeply and glanced at Daphne, devastated when she saw the look on Daphne's face. She bowed her head only slightly, showing her dear friend solidarity, and walked out of the drawing room, not even looking once at Lord Bridgerton.

As she made her way to the staircase, she could hear his footfalls upon the carpet behind her.

"I thought you had finished with your attempts to match the duke and Daphne," his voice was accusing and it made her blood boil.

"I did, but it seems that you did not go through with your end of that particular bargain," her words were like ice and she still didn't look at him as they descended down the stairs. "You had a chance, you know, to let the Berbrooke thing go, and yet you didn't. Why?"

"It's not your place to question me."

As she stepped off the final stair, she took one pace forward and then quickly turned to face him. "You don't get to do that, Anthony. You do not get to include me in intimate family conversations and then act like I should have nothing to say about it. It clearly is my place to question you, because you don't seem to be hearing anyone else!"

"Miss Sheffield, you overstep," his teeth were so clenched his jaw must have ached.

"Good."

Any and all propriety that had been drilled into her head since her birth had melted away with her fury. Her papa would skin her hide to hear that she spoke to one of his colleagues this way, but she didn't have it in her to care at the moment.

Anthony Bridgerton absolutely infuriated her.

Lord Bridgerton took a second to respond but during that second, she could see the lividity flare in his dark brown–almost black–eyes. "Come with me," his words were not a request like they should have sounded and there was so much venom in his voice that she wondered if he was going to ruin her.

Of course, Winnie was thinking that Lord Bridgerton would ruin her socially. Anthony, on the other hand, was thinking of how he could ruin her in other ways. If she was his wife, she'd be over his knee, stripped naked, and punished, and once she apologized, they'd fuck until they both were satisfied ten times over.

His cock should not have been as hard as it was during a rage-fueled exchange like this one.  Fuck everything.

He led her down a short hallway, just off the stairs and opened the door to his study. She had only been in the room a couple of times, back when the former Viscount was still alive, and when Anthony hadn't hated her guts and often allowed her to borrow some of the novels he enjoyed from his time at Eton.

Winnie stepped in and Anthony firmly shut the door behind her.

"I–" she paused, swallowing harshly under his hard gaze. "This is inappropriate."

"Sit down," Anthony nodded to one of the heavy chairs in front of his desk. She did as she was told and as she settled, he crossed around the desk and grabbed a bottle from his wet bar, pouring an ounce of whatever alcohol it was into a crystal tumbler.

Winnie watched as his jaw flexed and Adam's apple bobbed while he drank the whole glass in one go. She wondered if he was taking these moments of silence to calm down so they could speak civilly. Her hands shook from her nerves and her eyes remained wet from anger, but she begged tears not to fall.
She hated being an angry crier with every fiber of her being.

Anthony set the glass down on a leather coaster rather harshly and then leaned back in his chair.
"I understand that you have unconventional ideas," he finally spoke, taking time to think about his words and choosing them carefully. He was much calmer and Winnie envied the way he could take a step back and calm down for the sake of the very strained civility between them. "and that you are a very close friend of the family, but never speak to me like that again. Do not speak to any man that way, because if you had? If you had spoken like that to anyone but me, you and your family would be more ruined than whatever damage your aunt caused when she left England."

Winnie squeezed her eyes shut, hoping the pressure in her tear ducts went away before they could leak any more than they already had.

Lord Bridgerton was right. She had overstepped and been so very reckless with her words, her attitude, her emotions...If it wasn't Anthony Bridgerton that had been standing before her when she spat venom back at him everything she knew would be gone. Her future would never even have a chance to start, the Sheffield's family reputation would be unrepairable and George would suffer through school and adulthood from it. She could have ruined everything. She almost ruined everything.

"I'm sorry, my lord," her regret flowed from her lips easily, as she did not have a problem in seeing the error in her ways and fixing it with a sincere apology and action. "I'm so sorry."

She kept her eyes closed throughout the apology, but when she finally opened her eyes and looked at the Viscount, he looked conflicted, like two sides of himself were fighting a battle in his mind.

"I must confess, I do not know why you are so troubled by this," he finally stated, his voice tight and uncomfortable. "This is not your family, this is not your life..."

He trailed off, hoping for a short and simple answer so he did not have to get anymore vulnerable with the woman he had such a complicated relationship with.

"You underestimate how important your family is to me, Lord Bridgerton," Winnie's voice trembled with emotion for each word. "When you lose a parent like we have, when you're someone's support system, when your best friend's mother shows up the stormy night your brother is born to help you learn how to just hold him..."

Anthony's breath caught in his throat at her words and how truly heartfelt they were.

"I truly love your siblings like they are my own," she continued, shifting her attention to the bangles on her wrists, fumbling with them to tether her to reality. "I just want the best for Daphne. Over the years I've heard her wish and wish for a love as beautiful as your mama and papa's. She wants nothing more than a love match for her first season and a family full of little ones soon thereafter."

"I am trying to do that for her," Anthony croaked.

Winnie nodded, knowing that, in a way, he was trying. But trying was not enough, not when someone's future was at stake.

She inhaled deeply and spoke frankly, "When a girl is born, there is instant disappointment. A son is always preferable; an heir, a spare, and one more for good measure. Little boys grow up knowing how valuable they are. They are able to go to school with others their age, learn subjects they would never dare teach to a girl, and prepare to be head of a household for their families who will depend on them for livelihood."

"Little girls, in comparison, are told we must be the right weight, have the right curves to attract a future husband, learn how to raise children, and sew, and play the piano, and any other delicate activity that men deem feminine. We are not allowed to own anything, we are not allowed to be educated like boys our age, we learn that a pretty face is really all that matters, and if you don't have one, your life might as well not be worth living."

"As we grow and boys go off to school and University to become men, we stay at home and come to terms with the situations that life has given us just because we were born female. Even before a woman is married, they belong to someone else, their father. When they wed, they belong to their husband. When they bear children, they can't even claim them as her own."

"There is really only one small period of time where something that we want actually matters, if you're fortunate enough to have a family that values your opinion. You value Daphne, yes?"

"Of course." Anthony confirmed, swallowing heavily.

"And her opinion?"

"Yes."

"Then you should trust her to find the man she will marry," Winnie exhaled tiredly, exhausted by the rollercoaster of emotions she went on throughout the day. "Because for Daphne, this season is her time. These upcoming months are going to change her entire life, influence her entire future..." she paused thoughtfully and then made full-on eye contact with him. "If you were in Daphne's position, wouldn't you want control? Wouldn't you want to have a say in your future?"

Anthony did not speak but his mind raced.

To be honest, Anthony had never thought about what it must be like for a woman to be traded like stock upon the marriage market. That a mere dowry could sum up a girl's worth and make a better selling point as a wife. He had never had to think about it because he was fortunate; he was the first born son of a first born son in a luxurious family line that spanned over two centuries.

His sisters were born from the same man and woman that he was, born into the same family, yet they had nothing he and his brothers had.

"Anthony?"

He blinked slowly and saw her wide brown eyes, tired and sad, stare at him. "Yes, Winnifred?"

"Are you all right?"

"I...I am unsure," he stood abruptly and walked around the desk. "If you could excuse me, I have someone I need to speak to."

When he ushered her toward the door this time, it was much calmer.

"Lord Bridgerton," Winnie turned around to face the door as he began to close it. He paused, staring at her expectantly. "I am sorry about how I spoke to you."

Anthony shook his head, the incident seemed like it was years ago now. "No, I'm sorry. And Winnifred?"

"Hmm?"

Anthony bowed his head, the corners of his lips turning up ever so slightly. "Thank you."

-

To find Simon, the new Duke of Hastings, Anthony did not have to look far. He knew the man almost too well and had figured Hastings would be with Will Mondrich at the ring, taking a few punches from the well-esteemed fighter. He was right; though the building was virtually empty, the fighting ring housed two familiar figures.

Mondrich had just caught Hastings' punch and hit him back when Anthony strode into the large room. Both of the men looked to see who had walked in on them; neither were surprised to see the Viscount.

"Might I have a word?"

Simon rocked on his feet, fists posed out in front of him, ready to take another hit from Mondrich. "Have as many as you like, Bridgerton!"

Anthony sighed tiredly as Simon tried to block Mondrich's swing and missed, and went to the other side of the ring. "Will you come down here, or must I come up there?"

"My fists have taken enough pounding from your chin today, Your Dukeship," Mondrich taunted Hastings while Anthony slipped off his waistcoat to spar with Simon while they had a little chat.

He nodded at Mondrich as they switched places in and out of the ring and Will nodded right back at him, both of them mostly acquainted with one another through their mutual friendships with Simon.

Once Mondrich was safely out of the ring and Anthony stood tall on his feet, Simon turned to him expectantly, raising his fists. "Well, what seems to be so urgent?"

Anthony did not answer verbally; he lurched forward, fist swinging, at Hastings. Hastings veered away and came back, jabbing Anthony in the ribs.
"I'd like to know what was going through your head last night and this morning," Anthony demanded.

He swung again. Simon ducked and went to deliver a blow but Anthony twisted out of the way.

"You have to be more precise," Simon quipped. "A great deal goes on in a mind as quick as mine."

It was a typical "Basset" answer and if Anthony had been well and truly angry, it would have made him even more furious. It was thanks to Winnifred and her words that made him calmer, willing to have an open discussion with his friend.

"Are you courting my sister?"

"Should I not be courting your sister?"

"No, and I can think of dozens of reasons why," Anthony replied just as quickly as Simon. For a couple of seconds, they moved around, jabbing here and there and hitting nothing. "It starts with 'she is my sister' and ends with the fact that you have long spoken about your wishes to remain unmarried, and then we can, perhaps, circle back to the fact that Daphne is my sister."

He ended his statement with a swift punch to Simon's cheek.

Hastings took a second to recover and raised an eyebrow in Anthony's direction. "Your sister told me of her engagement to Berbrooke last night. The fact that you hadn't mentioned it now intrigues me."

Anthony rolled his eyes, a grunt leaving his lips when Simon caught him again on the shoulder. "It's not a definite engagement yet. I will be giving it more time, and if Daphne chooses Nigel Berbrooke then all the formal preparations will be set into motion."

"She will not choose him," Hastings declared. "Berbrooke is a wholly unworthy suitor for Miss Bridgerton."

This time, when Hastings aimed toward him, Anthony managed to dodge it.

"He is perfectly decent," Anthony sighed. He was well aware of Daphne's dislike toward Berbrooke, but the man could be a decent back-up if no one else proposed. "He is never seen going in and out of brothels, at least. I even know where he's been the past few years, right here in London. As opposed to some gambling hell or backwater slum, or wherever it was you chose to fuck about for God knows whatever reason!"

Somehow, without Anthony realizing it, his little speech about Berbrooke had turned into a rant that made it sound like he'd been woefully waiting around for Simon for years while he was off galavanting around the continent. While that was not the case by any means, he did know for sure that he missed his best friend while he was away.

Anthony turned away from Hastings and tried to catch his breath. He was much better at fencing while Simon had excelled in fighting.

"Nigel Berbrooke is hardly a saint," Hastings told him.

"Berbrooke is hardly the reason I am speaking to you about this," Anthony shot back, whirling back around to face his friend. "I do not want you to string Daphne along while I know you wish to remain unmarried. Now, you are and have long been a good friend–the best, really–but this is my sister."

Simon dragged his hand along his jaw.

"Think of all that we have shared as friends," Anthony continued. "It is furthest from my intentions to offend you, but surely you can understand that family must come before all else!"

Knowing he made his position clear, he ducked underneath the ring's ropes and jumped down. He didn't look at Hastings or Mondrich again while he left, keeping his resolve strong and remaining firm on his boundaries.

-

There was a large room in the back of the modiste that worked as a workshop, a storage room, and a make-shift office where Madame Delacroix could work if she was unable to do so in her home. It was there that Winnie hid the day after her confrontation with Lord Bridgerton, trying her hand at a new design she wanted to try out for Kate.

She already knew what fabrics she would make the gown out of, a deep turquoise that would highlight Kate's beautiful skin, but she was having trouble with the bodice and collar and how it would look on her cousin's tall and delicate frame. Genevive tried to help her between clients, but it was a busy day as ladies around the Ton were collecting their gowns for the ball that evening.

A frustrated noise left Winnie's lips as she tried to erase the dress' supposed neckline. It looked horrid and not at all up to the standards that she nor Genevieve had for her work. Taking a breath in, she paused for a second to steady herself and tried again.

...No, it just wouldn't do.

Again, she erased the line. Again, she tried. And again, it was not good.

"You are putting too much pressure on yourself, love," Genevieve told her, using her original London accent instead of her fake French lilt, as she swept into the room just as she was clearing the line again. "It is a neckline. You've done dozens of them before."

"That's what makes it all the more frustrating!"

And again, she tried etching out the neckline.

Genevieve raised an inquisitive brow and moved closer to the table that Winnie sat at. "Oh, Winnie, it looks absolutely beautiful," she crooned as studied her design. "What is troubling you so much that you cannot see the beauty in your work, hm?"

"It will be one of the first dresses that will be worn by someone other than me."

"That is not true. Your designs are worn plenty by the young ladies in Mayfair. "

Winnie sighed and corrected herself. "These are the first gowns that will be worn by someone else who will know it was I that made them," she set down her writing utensil and rubbed the headache starting to form around her temples. "I suppose the only thing I have going for me is that Kate will give me an honest opinion of it."

"And if this Kate has taste, she will love it," Genevieve placed her hands on both of Winnie's shoulders for a quick second, a touch of reassurance and pride.

Winnie cocked her head in acknowledgement, wishing she had as much confidence in herself as Genevive had in her. Maybe one day she would get there.