Winnie stared out one of the windows that lit up her bedroom, brown eyes methodically swaying with the trees as the wind lightly brushed through their soaked leaves. It was rather glum outside and it had started to rain moments before she left the Modiste earlier that afternoon. Thankfully, it did not seem like it was going to storm and as the sky darkened steadily, the rain seemed to calm. The ebbing of the rain and the non-probability of a storm was in Winnie's favor, of course. She was terrified of storms, or rather, the memories that came with them, and there was another ball tonight. She would rather ride out her phobia comfortably at home, than flinch, jump, and panic elsewhere during the party while lightning struck and the sky thundered. She would end up embarrassing herself in front of the Ton.

"The rain shall stop by the time you leave the house, Miss," Anna walked into the room after knocking once. "Even now, it's only a fine mist."

"I am glad of it," Winnie sighed and ran her gloved palms over the beaded bodice of her purple dress, trying to soothe her nerves. She turned away from the window to face her lady's maid and asked, "Did Vincent mention when the Bridgertons are to arrive?"

Anna frowned slightly. "Did your father not tell you, Miss?" Winnie gulped nervously and shook her head. "Lord Bridgerton met with Lord Sheffield today. Together they arranged for Lady Danbury to escort you to the ball tonight, and a few others throughout the season."

Winnie's heart started to race uncomfortably in her chest and she felt sweat bead at the nape of her neck. She had ruined it all; her relationship with the Bridgertons, her reputation, and George's future. That's not even to mention how furious her papa must be with her!

Stupid, stupid, stupid, her mind yelled at her.

If Lord Bridgerton hadn't loathed her before, surely he wished to see her suffer now. For good reason, of course. She had thought that they had left off on a good note after their argument, but it seems that she assumed wrongly. She was sure that she would never be able to spend time with Daphne and Eloise again, and even Lady Bridgerton must be so disgusted with her.

Feeling rather faint, Winnie sat down at the end of her bed, her chest heaving with each choked breath. Anna took pity on her and grabbed her hands, squeezing them tightly to ground her as she sat by her side, breathing evenly so Winnie could copy her breath pattern to calm down.

"Winnie, everything is well," Anna soothed her. "According to Vincent, the conversation was polite and even friendly. Lord Bridgerton simply told your father that there were some balls that he would need to put all his attention on Daphne for the evening, and would hate for you to not be looked after properly. It was Lord Bridgerton himself that suggested Lady Danbury escort you. He settled everything himself."

"Did he?" came Winnie's shaky reply, catching her breath now that the coping skills Anna taught her were starting to work and her panic was starting to go away.

Her mind raced. Why was it that Anthony had taken so much care to have Lady Danbury escort her? Yes, Lady Danbury was one of the most influential woman in town–save the Queen, of course–and if Winnie were looking for a husband, she would be the best escort around. But she wasn't and Anthony knew that. Maybe he wanted Lady Danbury to shake some sense to her? Was he still angry, like she thought he would be, and wanted to punish her by setting Lady Danbury and her match-making skills on her?

I will have to speak with Lord Bridgerton, she decided. A conversation would clear up any miscommunication and she could ask after him about Lady Danbury and the various season events the older woman would escort her to.

-

Once Lady Danbury's carriage arrived outside of the Sheffield House, it was very obvious that the woman was not alone. The Duke of Hastings, Lord Basset, had accompanied her to pick up Winnie. He was perfectly polite, the few times that she had met him before, but that was before she knew about the ruse he and Daphne had concocted. She wondered if he knew that she knew?

If he did, he did not show it. The duke and Lady Danbury had tried their hardest to coax Winnie out of her shy shell, the one that appeared in the presence of strangers and others that she did not know well. Thankfully, they were quite adept at it. Lady Danbury was witty and strong and Winnie decided she would like to be like her as she gracefully aged. The duke was clearly used to Lady Danbury's scorn and snark, as he gave it right back to her.

"I told him to wear some color, you see, Miss Sheffield," Lady Danbury cast a disapproving look over the duke's rather dark outfit. Winnie agreed with the older woman, his waistcoat was black velvet, which was a fine choice, but he definitely could have used color for his vest and cravat. It would make him more approachable...Then again, he did tell Daphne that he hadn't wanted attention from the Ton's young ladies and their mamas. Maybe he did know what he was doing, hiding in plain sight with plain clothing.

"I was told this look was all the rage," The duke defended himself.

Lady Danbury pursed her lips. "Well, it is certainly not mine." she glanced at Winnie and gave her her full attention. "Now, Miss Sheffield, tell me about yourself so that I may introduce you to a fine young gentleman."

There was no denying Lady Danbury of anything, so for the rest of the carriage ride to the Salisbury Ball, Winnie introduced herself to Lady Danbury and the Duke of Hastings. While the duke seemed impressed with her various modes of education, Lady Danbury was more focused on the lack of proper activities a young lady needed for her place on the marriage market.

"I shall have to set you up with dance lessons, then," Lady Danbury told her as the carriage slowed to a stop in front of Salisbury House. "You said you've learned French and Latin, but what about Greek? And this sign language you mentioned for your hearing, are you aware of a tutor in town for hire? Have you thought of looking more into this?"

Yes, Lord Bridgerton was certainly punishing Winnie by way of Lady Danbury.

Entering a ball this season without the Bridgertons by her side was new. There were just as many stares from the Ton but this time it wasn't Daphne they were staring at, but rather the duke. It rather relieved her, to be able to hide within the popularity of another. There was not as much pressure as there was in the limelight and Winnie felt that she had room to breathe and live as she wished to.

Unfortunately, she was very much in Lady Danbury's thoughts that night. As the duke escorted the older woman along, she held onto Winnie and began whispering a new battle plan in her good ear. At one point, she was pretty sure that Lady Danbury insulted the way that Lord Bridgerton had presented his sister–and in extension, Winnie–and vowed to clear everything up for a successful season.

"Ah, there is Lord Brandon," Lady Danbury nodded to an older gentleman lurking by the refreshment table. "He's a widow, of course, but I've heard a rumor that he treated his last wife rather well. He receives 15,000 a year."

Winnie hummed as Lady Danbury moved onto the next man she deemed acceptable. Thankfully, she was not pushed into dancing with anyone yet, but she knew that she would be out on the dancefloor very, very soon.

Perhaps Sloane was in attendance and could take pity on her...

"Ah!" Lady Danbury grabbed both Winnie and the duke tighter when she set her gaze upon the Bridgerton family, who had just walked into the ballroom. Daphne was on Anthony's arm and Colin, Benedict, and Violet followed them in, the two boys seeming to be desperate to get away. "The Bridgertons!"

The two groups met each other quite quickly and before Winnie could speak to Daphne and ask if they wanted to do a bout around the room together, the duke held out his hand toward her.

"A dance, Miss Bridgerton?"

Daphne nodded, but from the way Anthony canted forward, he was about to refuse the offer. Winnie wondered what his frustration seemed to be about, especially after their conversation the other day where Winnie was sure that he had heard her about Daphne and Berbrooke.

"I shall need someone else to keep Miss Sheffield company, then," Lady Danbury diffused the nasty situation before it could even begin. "Lord Bridgerton, would you do the young lady the honor?"

While Winnie gave Lady Danbury a horrified look that went unnoticed by everyone except Daphne, Colin, and Benedict, Anthony found himself sending his dearest friend a warning look, silently reminding him of their conversation in the fighting ring.

"Yes, Lady Danbury," Anthony inhaled deeply and turned to Winnie, holding out his hand. "A dance, Miss Sheffield?"

She couldn't refuse, even if she wanted to. Not only was it impolite to, but she supposed she could give Daphne and the duke room to breathe and dance through their charade.

"Of course, my lord," she bowed her head and took his hand, allowing him to lead her to the dance floor.

As soon as they were far enough away from the Bridgerton family, Lady Danbury, and the duke, she spoke again, "Should I be offended that you've asked my father to have Lady Danbury escort me for the rest of the season?"

"Not the rest of the season," Anthony couldn't help but correct her, the corner of his lips twitching so much she was sure he wanted to smirk at her. "Just a few of them. I would rather think you would be honored, actually."

They took their places on the dancefloor, not too far away from the duke and Daphne and waited for the music to start. They bowed to each other and then begun the footwork, crossing arms in sync with the other couples on the dancefloor.

Though Winnie knew the dance–it being one of the only ones she knew–she did not do it well. It was only a few seconds in before she accidentally stepped on Anthony's toe. He grunted and she wasn't surprised to see his brown-eyed glare aimed at her.

"I apologize," she said sincerely. "Surely you've not forgotten what a horrid dancer I am?"

"I have memory of it, yes," Anthony conceded, knowing that while they danced, she did not mean the blows toward his toes. That did not make the steps hurt any less, however, especially so close in concession. "Winnifred, you step forward while I step back, yes? And then we do the opposite, like this..."

He tightened his grip on her hands, not painfully but enough to feel him more firmly through her satin gloves, nodded down at their feet. He put more power into his leading and she let him move her about with no hesitation. She did not step on his feet that time, which was amazing progress.

"There," his voice was softer as he looked back to her, watching her eyes glance between their feet and his face. "It's not that difficult, is it?"

"No," Winnie agreed sheepishly. "I think it's because you are leading so strongly."

"Giving up control is not always a bad thing, Winnifred."

Winnie inhaled softly and stared at him with wide eyes, wondering why his words caused such movement in her chest and stomach. The way he stared back at her, his intense eyes darkening with something that wasn't anger–she could tell due to the lack of furrow between his brows–made her mind race.

Anthony Bridgerton was a very handsome man. Of course, she had realized that years ago, around the time that Anthony had graduated from Eton, the summer that the former Viscount, Edmund, had passed away very suddenly. It was an innocent crush back then and as with normal eleven-year-olds, those feelings left as Colin started to grow taller than her and she began to fancy him. But now, at two and twenty, this type of handsome was different. Winnie didn't know how or why, but it just was.
She couldn't make sense of her thoughts, so as a result, she thought back on his previous words.

"What you said earlier, when you said I should be honored for Lady Danbury to escort me for part of the season...What did you mean by that? Do you believe that Lady Danbury should find me a husband?"

"Of course she would be able to, I have no doubt about that," Anthony replied; he watched as the corner of her lips turned down and went on, wanting to make his reasons clear. "But that is not what I meant. Our conversation made me think."

"Oh, and what a disastrous omen for you, my lord!"

Anthony rolled his eyes at her quip, smiling lightly. "Hush, you." he continued on. "No, I merely meant that you made me think about Daphne's prospects and how little choice she has in the matter of her life. While you are with Lady Danbury, I can focus more on my sister so I can make sure that she is being careful whilst navigating the season and making her own decisions."

He did not add that Winnie distracted him a little too much when she was around and that was why he had trouble focusing on Daphne. It seemed, whether it was good or bad, his attention went straight to her while she was in the room. He didn't know why he drifted so, but he supposed it was because she was quite fun to argue with, a sarcastic and clumsy disaster all wrapped up in a pretty bow that didn't roll over and do as she was told.

Winnie smiled at him, relieved to hear that he was taking her words to heart. Who would have thought that Anthony Bridgerton would actually listen to her?

"I am very relieved to hear that, Lord Bridgerton," and she was sure he could hear the happiness in her voice. Daphne was going to be fine. Better, she would be happy and that was all Winnie ever wanted for her while taking up the fight against Anthony's decisions. "I knew that there was still some part of you that held onto your intelligence."

Anthony snorted in amusement. "You think I'm wise?"

"I did not say that!" Winnie said indignantly. "In fact, if you rethink my words, you would know that I once found you intelligent. Intelligence is not wisdom."

"I'm just going to act like you didn't say that," Anthony smirked at her, prompting her own smile. "Who would have thought that Winnifred Sheffield, the most stubborn woman in Mayfair, if you please, thinks that I am wise?"

Winnie bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Anthony was in a rare mood tonight, indeed. "I loathe you very much, Lord Bridgerton."

"The feeling is mutual, Miss Sheffield, I assure you."

"That is truly wonderful to know," Winnie rolled her eyes and when she did so, she caught sight of Daphne and the duke dancing a few feet away. "You've spoken to the duke about Daphne?"

She did not know for sure, but the way that Anthony had glared at his friend upon arrival made her feel as if all of his troubles with Daphne's situation were not satiated. He had told her, of course, that the duke did not wish to be married and she had further confirmation from Daphne, but surely the duke would have told him about the ruse as well?
Anthony's chest heaved in frustration as he glanced over at his sister and friend. "Yes, I've made my displeasure known and yet he continues to dance with her."

Winnie did not know what to say. It was obvious now that Anthony did not know about the ruse and she could not tell him, lest she betray Daphne. "Try speaking to him again? Perhaps he does not wish to hurt Daphne's feelings."

As if fate itself wanted the viscount to confront the duke, the musicians slowed down, the beautiful sound of strings died down, and the song ended.

"I shall take this as my opportunity," as their feet stopped, Anthony nodded his head into a quick bow; Winnie curtsied back. "Miss Sheffield, please excuse me."

-

His dance with Winnifred had gone better than he expected, so he had one thing going for him that night. As he walked toward Benedict, hoping that his brother would distract Daphne while he spoke to Simon, he was rather glad for the dance and the conversation. While his anger with his friend made him feel erratic, the way he talked it over with Winnifred made him see that the situation needed to be handled calmly, if any of them were to get anything out of it. With none of his attention on Winnifred, the more he could use it to deal with the duke.

"Go dance with your sister," Anthony palmed Benedict's shoulder, urging toward the dancefloor where Daphne and Simon were still saying their gratitude for the dance.

"Why?" Benedict complained like he was a child of only five years old.

Anthony gave him a firm push when he saw Simon start to walk away from Daphne. "Because I told you to."

While Benedict grumbled and went to distract Daphne, Anthony followed the duke into the space off the ballroom, where the refreshments were set up.

"Perhaps I was unclear this morning," Anthony greeted the duke and continued onto the drink table by his side.

"Is it your wish for me to insult your sister, Bridgerton?"

"On the contrary, Basset," as a peace offering, Anthony handed Simon a glass of champagne. "I remind you that insulting my sister is the very reason I do not wish for this..." he twirled his wrist, unable to find the word to describe whatever Simon and Daphne had going on. "Whatever this is, to happen."

He had not seen Lord Berbrooke follow them into the room, but when Simon nodded toward the man approaching him, he realized that everything was going to get worse.

" You don't want her to marry a loathsome toad, either."

"Quite right," Anthony hissed to Simon under his breath before pulling a polite but disinterested face on for Berbrooke. "Can I help you, Berbrooke?"

"Lord Bridgerton, forgive the intrusion but, if need be, I will happily restate my intentions with respect to your sister," Berbrooke bumbled. Anthony took a deep gulp of his champagne, wishing the stinging from the alcohol could somehow harm him enough to get him out of this conversation. "She is a prize I have long coveted for her beauty, for her grace–"

"For her powerful right hook?" Simon interrupted with a quip.

Anthony glanced at Simon thoughtfully. He had long ago taught Daphne how to punch without hurting herself so he knew that he wouldn't see the evidence of a punch on Daphne's hand. Berbrooke's eye, however...

"I must know whether I can count on you to handle this misunderstanding, my lord?" Berbooke continued as if the duke hadn't spoken. "I certainly wish to avoid any kind of embarrassment."

Simon sipped his drink. "Rather late for that."

Anthony cocked his head toward his friend as Berbrooke glared at the both of them. "Are you too friendly with the duke or simply intimidated by his rank–"

"Easy, Berbrooke," Anthony cut him off, voice hardened with a warning. "I have been thinking and I would like Daphne to have a few more weeks to pursue other options." he glanced at Simon. "However, I would like to remind the duke that this is none of his concern."

"Perhaps you're not the authority on what concerns me, nor on the matter of Lord Berbrooke's character." Simon replied steadily, eyes glaring holes into Berbrooke's head.

Berbrooke glowered right back at the duke before giving Anthony his attention. "I shall do best by your sister, Bridgerton, and perhaps even she might learn to return my affections over time."

"Come off it, Berbrooke," Anthony rolled his eyes, calling the man out. "I should think it was my sister who gave you that purple eye. I taught her myself."

Simon chuckled under his breath.
Lord Berbrooke instantly objected. "I was careless with a cabinet door!"

"He was careless with his honor," Simon swooped in again, giving Anthony all the information he needed to know. "He attempted something the other night that I shant dignify with words when your sister planted a facer. Deservedly so."

Rage bubbled into Anthony's chest at once, his eyes nearly black as he turned back to Berbrooke. He had already assumed that the man had offended his sister in some way, but this? Well, he did not need it spelled out for him; Berbrooke had tried to compromise his sister, to harm her. She hadn't even told Anthony about anything and he knew it was because he was a tosser, demanding that she married the man that attacked her.

Was it possible to hate yourself as much as you hate your enemy?

Anthony slammed his glass down onto the table and stepped up to Berbrooke, towering over him. "You will never speak to my sister again, Berbrooke."

Berbrooke's mouth opened in shock. "But we are to be married!"

"You are to be buried if you so much as look in her direction," Anthony growled; his anger caused Simon to pull him back, afraid that he'd attack Berbrooke right there and then in front of the entire Ton. "Be grateful you will not take a punch from yet another Bridgerton."

Anthony harshly pulled from Simon's grasp and stomped out of the room, ignoring all the onlookers' stares. Only one mattered. When he finally got to Daphne, he softly put a hand on her shoulder and cursed himself as she looked at him with confused eyes.

"What has happened, brother?"

"You need not worry about Berbrooke, sister, it is done," he swallowed his guilt and rage, breathing heavily. "I am sorry."

Daphne did not have time to ask him about his apology. Anthony rushed away from his sister and toward the door. He needed fresh air if he were to remain calm in front of curious eyes and not break into a shell of self-loathing and hatred.