Friday—November 27th, 2020

What Everyone Sees But Nobody Talks About Nº378

It's the morning AFTER and what a night you've had for yourselves.

As you spend today trying to recover from your several degrees of hangovers, let me remind you of what F.U.N. you had last night, tons, and that I watched every second of it. The music was a horrible deafening sound that might've numb your other senses because more than a few of you made questionable, mildly regrettable choices. 

Should I expose all of it? Would that be too shocking? Perhaps some honorable mentions instead? 

Where was Holly Macclesfield hidding the entire party so her fioncé, the one and only Nigel Berbrooke, had to spend the night bothering innocent bystanders with his incessant babbling? There's more than one person who knows the answer to that query: her, me and whoever she was with. That's all I'm going to say on the matter. For now, I mean.

But the attendance of Lady Danbury's grandson, although marked by tragedy, has clearly lifted the spirits of a few young ladies of the tons, and perhaps some more than others. Whether he showed any interest at all might be too soon to tell, but surely there were moments Gareth St. Clair looked like he was trying to disappear through the walls and escape all the curious stares he received. Poor thing. If he thinks it's going to get better with time... he should think again.

A Bridgerton was distinctly spotted trying to escape as well but from Lady Danbury herself. Colin has marked his return to the tons by keeping himself to a tight group of people, certainly hopeful that he could avoid the presence of Holly and Nigel, but as he distastefully found out last night, Nigel Berbrooke is not to be avoided but rather... endured. Maybe Colin IS trying to fix all that bad Karma he was left with by doing a few good deeds as he was seen dancing most of the night away with Penelope Featherington which, I guess, did work in earning him some approving nods from the crowd and some 'aww isn't he sweet'. If that has been his intention all along all I can say is... well played. 

And speaking of Bridgerton...! Were my eyes deceiving me or was that Anthony Bridgerton, head of BCorp, trying to keep up with the gorgeous Mrs. Sheffield? Truthfully, Anthony danced with more than one eligible young lady last night and I guess we're just all wondering why he went home alone. Again. Was someone a little too much for him? Did he have too much to drink and ran his mouth a little? Or did he get matched up and beaten at his own little game? 

Tsk tsk... It's like I always say. Always be the smartest person in the room. And this time, Mr. Bridgerton, I'm afraid you weren't. 

And you would never forgive me if I didn't include the newest addition of the tons, the handsome, brooding, tortured soul that is one Simon Basset. I heard he mentioned no fewer than six times during the bash that he has no intention of settling down anytime soon. If that was his plan to discourage women from pursuing him, he clearly has no clue what he's doing. Mr. Not Hastings has just created a challenge to a bunch of women who don't have a single hobby other than breaking men's spirits and eating their souls for breakfast. Good job.

That said, I made the very interesting observation last night that perhaps the rest of you have missed because of the crazy amounts of alcohol going through your system: Simon Basset's half dozen antidating remarks were all uttered BEFORE he made the acquaintance of one Daphne Bridgerton, who he followed like a puppy for the rest of the night. 

But you are bored, Great Hamptons. You are. Even with all the entertainment I provide, you still complain about your boring empty lives. It has always been fashionable among the tons to complain of ennui, but surely this year's crop of partygoers has raised boredom to an art form. One can't take two steps at a social function these days without hearing the phrase "dreadfully dull," or "hopelessly banal." So much so that I have been informed that Cressida Twombley recently remarked that she was convinced she might 'perish of eternal boredom if forced to attend one more off-key musicale'.

That is not difficult to imagine since you managed to miss most of the things that happened at Lady Danbury's Thanksgiving Bash. You get so wrapped up in your own crappy problems, tons, that you miss the good stuff and then you have to hear it from me. It must be dull indeed. 

But I know of something that you can't have missed. Something that will keep you entertained for a very, very long time, Great Hamptons. And that is Lady Danbury's impertinent offer of one thousand dollars to whomever unmasks... Me.

Do your worst. 

XOXO

Hamptons Girl

"Oh God." Edwina was running around the living room, her Iphone so close to her face she was getting crossed-eyed. "Oh God. Oh God. Oh God!"

"Edwina," Mary chastised from her sitting position. "Stop using the name of the Lord in vain."

"Have you seen this?" Edwina brandished the phone like it was a weapon. "Have you seen HG's latest post? She went all out! I can't believe she was there! She might've been dancing right beside me the entire time and I had no idea! She saw everything and we didn't see her! How is that possible?" Edwina threw herself on a chair and Kate poured her some chamomile tea to calm her nerves. 

"I think it's safe to say she's always there and we never know," Kate pointed out. "Whoever she is she is not afraid of being found out. I like that about her." 

"She made some very daring suggestions..." Edwina said, her voice trailing off and Kate wondered what could be bothering her. She had read the new HG post and she hadn't found anything worth commenting on. "Did you... Did you think that Anthony Bridgerton liked me?"

Kate looked like she had swallowed a sock. "Seriously? That's what you're worried about? If that conceited arrogant slob liked you or not?"

"Slob?" Mary asked, a frown in her face. 

"Do you think he did?" Edwina pressed. 

Kate decided not to commit. "Everybody likes you, Eddie." 

"Slob?" Mary asked again. 

"That's not helpful, Kate. I should like to know if he liked me or not." She sighed. "I should like to know if I liked him or not." 

"Edwina," Kate said softly, her eyes growing serious, "you don't have to date anyone you don't feel like dating. You know that."

Edwina nodded, suddenly looking as if she might cry.

"Hey. What's really bothering you?" Kate asked. "Look, if you decide there isn't a single man who is good enough for you, then that's that. We will enjoy our own company. There's no one I like better, anyway."

"Nor I," Edwina whispered. She busied herself with her phone and didn't say anything else, but Kate knew this wouldn't be the end of it. There was something in her sister's mind, something that was bothering her, something that wasn't right, and Kate could barely contain herself wanting to know what it was. 

The doorbell rang and Kate, mind racing, went to see who it was. Nothing particularly shocking: the delivery man with a flower bouquet accompanied by a crisp white card bearing the name, Edwina Sheffield.

A simple "Miss Sheffield" would have sufficed, Kate thought with a grimace, but she supposed one couldn't really fault the sender for wanting to make certain the flowers went to the correct Miss Sheffield.

Not that anyone was likely to make a mistake on that measure. Floral arrangements generally went to Edwina. In fact, there was nothing general about it; Kate had never been given flowers in her life, only Edwina had. But Kate liked to think she had the last laugh. Edwina didn't like flowers, she had a lot of allergies, so they tended to end up in Kate's room, anyway.

"You beautiful thing," she said, lovingly fingering a fine orchid. "I think you belong right on my bedstand—"

"Do you always talk to flowers?"

Kate jumped at the sound of a male voice. It was Anthony Bridgerton, looking sinfully handsome in a blue suit. What the devil was he doing here?

No sense in not asking.

"What the devil are you doing here?" 

He raised a brow as he signaled the huge bouquet of flowers in her hands. 

"You sent this?" Kate's head was spinning. "Wait. Whoa. You... You actually sent a delivery man with flowers even though you were planning on coming here? That doesn't make any sense. What is wrong with you?" 

"Are you always like this?" he murmured. "Did I misplace my etiquette book or was that you?" Kate's look of irritation at his sarcasm did not prevent him from continuing with, "Amazingly enough, much as I'd like to claim some sort of devious, underhanded subterfuge," he continued, maintaining a rather impressively supercilious tone, "my mother told your mother I would be dropping by today, so there's that." 

Of course. "Mary," Kate groaned, a world of accusation in the single word.

"You call her by her given name?" he asked politely.

She nodded. "She's actually my stepmother. Although she's really all I know. She married my father when I was three. I really don't know why I still call her Mary." She gave her head a little shake as her shoulders lifted into a perplexed shrug. "I just do."

His brown eyes remained fixed on her face, and she realized she'd just let this man—her nemesis, really—into a small corner of her life. She felt the words 'I'm sorry' bubbling on her tongue—a reflexive reaction, she supposed, for having spoken too freely. But she didn't want to apologize to this man for anything, so instead she just said, "Edwina is out, I'm afraid, so your visit was for nothing." 

It was for the best, she convinced herself. Edwina wasn't in a mood for visitors. Especially this one. 

He nodded graciously. "Please tell her I came."

"My mother or my sister?"

He smiled at her pert question. "Both."

"Hmmph. Alright." Kate coughed, not particularly wanting to be honest with him but quite incapable of doing anything otherwise. "I will. The flowers are lovely, and... and I believe she might just like them." She swallowed. This wasn't easy for her. "I do."

He leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes positively melting. "A kind sentence," he mused. "And directed at me, no less. There now, that wasn't so difficult, was it?"

Kate went from bending lovingly over the flowers to standing uncomfortably straight in an instant. "You do seem to have a knack for saying the exact wrong thing."

"Only where you're concerned, Kate Sheffield. Other women, I assure you, hang on my every word."

"So I've read," she muttered.

His eyes lit up. "Is that where you've developed your opinions of me? Of course! The estimable Hamptons Girl. I should have known."

"I find her very intelligent and quite on the mark," Kate said primly.

"You would," he returned. "Whereas I would like to strangle the woman." He checked his wristwatch and sighed. "I have to go. I trust you to extend my sympathies to your mother and sister. Good day." 

And he was gone. Kate watched him leave with a strange feeling in her stomach. A moment ago, she'd been certain she was putting an end to something. Now, she felt like she was caught at the beginning. 

A very stinky, complicated start of something she couldn't name. And that kept her worried for the rest of the day. 

*

Hey, guys. I want to apologize for how long it's been, but I'm really busy with college stuff and I don't want to just post anything. But I'd like to say that I'm still working on this, just much slower than usual. Thank you so much for all of your support. Please, keep commenting and voting on this book so we can make it grow and grow and grow. Lots of love!