chapter five: let the games begin

❦

Aubrey Hall.

It was bigger than Charlotte Wentworth imagined. From the view from the carriage she was riding with her siblings and Lady Danbury, the incoming mansion had many windows and floors, even vines sprouting through the outside walls, making the home look worn, yet sophisticated all at once. Charlotte appreciated the beauty of it, anything to keep herself out of the conversation between the others in the carriage.

All the trials and tribulations Charlotte trudged through with a certain viscount did not stop the incoming invitation for the Wentworth's to stay at the Bridgerton family home for the next week. Since the poetry reading party a few days prior, nothing was resolved. The Wentworth siblings were divided. Amelia on one side with a growing relationship with the viscount her older sister wanted her to stay away from. And Charlotte on the other side, simply not knowing what to do to make things better regarding her relationship with her sister. Finally, Daniel. He was in the middle, unfortunately. So, therefore, as divided as the three were meant no communication when they had to be in the same room as each other, which was going to be quite often in the days to come.

   The invitation from the Bridgerton family blindsided Charlotte, to say the very least. She knew Amelia and the viscount had grown closer as the days went by after the party, much to her dismay, but never so close that it prompted a week-long stay at his family home. But Lord Bridgerton was not as slick as he thought. Charlotte knew exactly why they were invited. This was an initiation of some sort. This was the test for the viscount to see if Amelia could fully take on the role of viscountess.

If Amelia would choose to be blind to his true intentions, Charlotte would see clearly for her, no matter how strained their relationship still was.

   A hand gently grasping her own brought Charlotte out of her thoughts. Taking a glance between the hand and the person next to her, she gave Daniel a subtle nod of appreciation for his action. Though the two had hardly spoken for some time, he could tell just how anxious she was about the impending trip.

   Charlotte had not socialized much since her breakdown and exit from the party. She knew some of the Bridgertons such as Violet Bridgerton and Eloise were in attendance. Furthermore, she knew they both saw everything that transpired at the party, and Charlotte was nervous to even step out of the carriage when they arrived. She was embarrassed by her own behavior, though nothing could stop her anxiety from running rampant. She just hoped they could see past it, not only for her own sake, but Amelia's as well. The last thing she wanted was to create a damning reputation that could destroy her life and family name. A bit dramatic but Charlotte was known to already damage reputations by leaving a bit of a good lasting impression. She could thank William for that.

   As the carriage rolled closer to Aubrey Hall, Charlotte could not help but compare it to her own family home. The Wentworth's were known to be a pretty wealthy family back in France but their home seemed to not compare to the Bridgertons. Yet another reason for Amelia to insist on marrying into their family.

The entire Bridgerton clan was already walking down the steps of their home as the carriage pulled up to the front of the house. Charlotte was pleasantly surprised, and quite relieved, to see smiles and excitement upon their arrival. Maybe the week would go swimmingly and without conflict.

   Lady Danbury was the first one to exit the carriage once it rolled to a stop with the help of the footman, "now," she exclaimed as a genuine smile graced her features at the sight of the family, "the only reason to endure such a journey is to see my great-godson."

"Well, it is a joy to see you as well, Lady Danbury."

As the Wentworth's made their way out of the carriage, Charlotte let her own smile appear at the scene in front of her. As Lady Danbury took the small child into her arms, the eldest Wentworth sister could not help but admire the new face she had yet to be introduced to, though she knew exactly who the woman was. The love story between Daphne Bridgerton and Simon Bassett traveled all the way to France last season. After months of seemingly falling for each other, the two got married at the end of Daphne's season and have been together and happy ever since, even bringing a child into the world. A child who was so fortunate to have been born into such a big and loving family.

   And somehow, bitterness crept into the deepest part of Charlotte's chest at the sight. The Bridgertons seemed to be the most well-rounded family in the ton. Loyal, loving, caring. There for each other. Where did her family go wrong? When did everything shift and become the tensioned relations the Wentworth's currently sported?

   Charlotte could not help but notice just how big Aubrey Hall had gotten the closer she got to it. Especially now that she was right in front of it on her two, slightly unstable feeling, feet. She exchanged quiet pleasantries with Violet Bridgerton, giving the woman a polite nod and a graceful smile, yet her eyes were distant from the exchange. She could not seem to take her eyes off of the building standing tall before her. At last, a genuine smile full of impression came upon her lips at the sight of the house before her. She could get used to living in such a place for the time being. That was, of course, until someone made their way unexpectedly to her.

"Ah," a chipper voice called to her, "you're smiling."

And just as easy as the smile graced her, it slipped as soon as she laid eyes on the man coming toward her. Charlotte should have realized sooner that the Bridgerton owned Aubrey Hall came with just that: Bridgerton's. One in particular she was in no mood for quarrel with.

Viscount Bridgerton took no offense in the dull expression before him, "I see my plan to win you over is already working."

"I was smiling at the view, which you are now blocking," Charlotte could not help but to smile sweetly, though they both knew it was with the most sarcasm she could muster.

   Charlotte simply did not understand herself anymore. Why she was even giving the man before her any kind of response or giving him the time of day to even speak to her is beyond her. He humiliated her, tricked her, toyed with her for all the ton to see. And yet, here she was, going back and forth with him like nothing had ever happened. If William could see her now... the only word he would call her is weak. And she was. But why for this man?

An abrupt bark sounded below her, snapping her out of thought she hoped was not too loud for others to hear. Charlotte could not help but coo as she looked down to see her precious furry companion smiling up at her with its tongue out and tail wagging. Feeling his inescapable gaze on her, the Wentworth distracted herself from it and picked her dog up to rest it against her, kissing the side of Angel's head.

   "Oh, you brought your dog."

   "Yes," Charlotte answered shortly, gently petting her dog's soft coat, "Angel is an excellent judge of character," it was only when Anthony tried to pet the dog himself that Angel squeaked a ferocious bark directly at him, causing him to recoil, "oh! See."

   Anthony exhaled, taking a confident step toward her, "mark my words, Miss Wentworth. By the end of your stay, your opinion of me will be much improved. As will hers."

   Angel only growled softly, but as scarily as she could, bless her heart.

   Chuckling at the exchange she just witnessed, Charlotte raised a brow, letting Angel down but keeping a firm grip on her leash, "I did not think you such an optimist. Since your schemes to manipulate me are now out in the open, I suppose it would be an improvement, indeed."

   "And you must be Miss Amelia."

   Charlotte snapped her head toward the new voice with a shock. And seeing Daphne Bridgerton up close and so suddenly, the Wentworth was at a loss for words or thought to try and muster a response. What about her and the viscount made anyone, more or less his own sister, think the two of them were anywhere close to friends? There was no way Charlotte was giving off that impression with her words or actions, but it now made her more self conscious than ever.

   Anthony bowed his head in almost slight embarrassment at his sister's assumption, "no. This is her sister. Miss Charlotte Wentworth."

   The Duchess looked taken aback at her mistake, swearing to herself that her brother had picked someone challenging for him. Closing her eyes, Daphne breathed out an apology, "ah. Forgive me, Miss Wentworth."

   "I'm entirely flattered, Your Grace," Charlotte sent the woman a warm smile, bowing in respect, finally finding her voice once again, "allow me to introduce my sister, Miss Amelia."

With Daniel in tow, Amelia took light steps toward the Duchess, knowing there were multiple eyes following her every move. Keeping her stance confident, the youngest Wentworth bowed gracefully, "it is an honor, Your Grace."

   The Duchess only bowed her head back with a slight exhale of satisfaction of her brother's choosing. Though, she was still tickled with herself by her mistake, surely thinking the older sister was the one her brother had his sights on. It was obvious by the way the two were with each other. Maybe that was something her brother would have to figure out in due time. And she would be there to pick up the pieces.

   As Anthony side-stepped Charlotte to get to the youngest sibling, the woman felt someone place a hand on her shoulder from behind. She did not need to turn around to know who it was to know it was Daniel. No matter the disagreements the Wentworth siblings may have, they always had each other's backs.

   "Miss Amelia, I am pleased to introduce you to Aubrey Hall," the viscount set his sights on his family home in front of him, a bit of pride in his voice and stance.

   Amelia sighed in awe, chuckling softly in almost disbelief, "it is a beautiful home. Thank you so much for inviting us. I very much look forward to spending time with you and your family."

Charlotte tried to stop the corner of her lips from turning up. No matter the quarrel between the two, the older sister could always take pride in her sister's manners, knowing she was the one to teach Amelia the proper way to speak to suitors. Since their parents died when Amelia was still quite young, Charlotte was the one to pick up the pieces and teach her younger sister everything she knew just in time for her sister's own season.

   Wanting to get the day started, Violet Bridgerton stepped away from her grandchild to move everyone along, "well, now, you must be weary from your travels. Mrs. Wilson, please show our guests to their rooms so they might get refreshed."

   "And ready for battle."

   "Mm, indeed."

   Charlotte looked between Daphne and Eloise with intrigue, "what can you mean?"

   Before anyone could answer, Violet intervened with a nervous chuckle, moving her daughter along swiftly, "do not mind Eloise. She's always so spirited in the country."

   Though the words were sported to help keep the guests steer clear of Eloise and her free spirit, Charlotte's fondness for the girl only increased, giving her a comforting smile, "then we have that in common."

   Charlotte had a feeling this week was going to be eventful, to say the very least.

❦

   "This will teach Colin."

   The Wentworth sisters chuckled at Daphne's actions, starting to understand just how competitive the Bridgertons were amongst each other. It had been a few hours into their stay at Aubrey Hall and all three siblings were enjoying their time, including Charlotte, who honestly could not believe she was. She was trying to not let the persistent presence of the viscount get to her, checking herself to make sure she was being as poised as possible as she was a guest in his home, after all. But that did not mean she had to get along with him, per say. Simply co-exist.

   The Bridgertons and the Wentworths were about to collide in a game. A tradition for the former family every time they presided in the countryside. However, Charlotte and her siblings were no stranger to competitions with each other. The three grew up with competitive bones in their bodies, especially Charlotte. She always had a knack for proving herself with everything she did when she was younger, knowing she always had eyes on her with every move she made being the older sister of the three, though she was not the eldest. The frustration that came with the high expectations that came along every step of the way only drove her intensity to achieve greatness. And sporting events were not an exception.

However, the same could not be said for Amelia. She was never one to put herself out there when it came to getting dirty during games or even care much about who wins or loses. The youngest sibling tended to want to watch her brother and sister go after each other during games while she laughed from the sidelines. And though she knew her siblings could see right through her and could sense just how anxious she was to play with such a prestigious and passionate bunch, Amelia would try to play along as heartily as she could.

   Daphne exhaled in satisfaction at her work below, turning back to the two sisters in front of her, "last time he put a wicket behind the goat barn."

As the Duchess motioned for the two Wentworth's to follow her through the grounds, Charlotte inquired curiously, "what exactly are the rules of this game?"

"Pall-mall is less about the rules, more about the goal," Daphne started to explain rather passionately, "which is, of course, to hit your ball through each wicket. The first player to send their ball through the last wicket wins. Simple enough. Though, if you are feeling devilish, you can use your turn to knock an opponent's ball as far away from their next wicket as you would like."

Listening closely with the intent to play as well as she could, Amelia questioned, "why waste a turn if the point is to get one's own ball through the wicket?"

   Charlotte could have laughed at her sister's innocence, not even the least bit surprised by her sister's question, "to infuriate your opponent, I gather?"

   Since they were mere children, Charlotte could see just how different Amelia was in comparison to her and Daniel. While the eldest brother and sister snuck laughs and sometimes caught themselves slouching at the dinner table, Amelia always made sure to keep her shoulders square with her chin up, displaying the pristine posture she had been taught by their late mother. While Charlotte and Daniel admired the competitiveness others displayed during a horse race, for example, just to make go past the finish line, Amelia frowned upon the riders for not relying on their connection with their horse and their talent to win against others.

   Though the differences between the siblings never bothered them before, there seemed to be a rift forming in the back of Amelia's mind, especially when she watched Daphne's features turn into one of impressions after her older sister's assumption.

   "Precisely," the Duchess nodded with a devious smirk, "it is a poor player who plays the game, and a wise one who plays their opponent."

   "I believe I shall rather enjoy this game."

   While Charlotte and Daphne share a chuckle at the former's statement, Amelia looked between the two in slight discouragement. She did not think the game to be that enjoyable at the sound of it. She simply did not see the appeal in sabotaging the other players for their own benefit. After all, it was just a game. However, Amelia seemed to be on her own in that mindset, surrounded by many who revel in watching their opponent suffer in loss.

   Daphne made a motion for the sisters to follow her to another spot on the yard, a ways away from the others, including Daniel, who were starting to make their way to the field, "right. Now, Benedict is a solid shot, but he avoids conflict. Colin is crafty. He will strike when he thinks you are least suspecting it, so always be suspecting it. Eloise concentrates entirely on defeating her older brothers. The hope is that she gets so absorbed by them that she forgets about you. I, of course, am a complete enigma who will divulge none of my secrets. And, well, then there is Anthony."

   "Let me guess," Charlotte mused unenthusiastically, watching the man in question stretch out his arms, "a most ruthless, cutthroat player."

   Daphne could not help the chuckle that left her lips, "why, you have made his acquaintance," realizing how that might have sounded, she quickly composed herself before turning her attention to Amelia, "that is not to say he has no honor. He's usually the most genteel sportsman. Except as far as this field is concerned."

   "I'm sure the viscount is an excellent player. We will all pass a very pleasant afternoon," Amelia targeted her last statement to her sister directly, a message hidden behind her words almost as a warning. She knew exactly how competitive her sister could get and she only hoped it would not interfere with her time with the viscount.

   The time had come for battle.

   The two families stood in a circle around the pile of mallets ready to be taken and played with. And while Amelia was particularly dreading getting started, Charlotte and Daniel were as ready as they could be. A hint of nostalgia ran through both of them as they watched the Bridgerton siblings argue over how to get started, knowing they had their own small scuffles when they were younger over the games they would play amongst themselves.

"Let us toss a coin," Collin offered as he guarded the mallets from his sibling's greedy grasps.

Eloise let out a less than ladylike scoff, stepping forward in protest, "last year, we promised to let the youngest pick first."

"We pick based on alphabetical order."

Charlotte watched the siblings go back and forth in nothing but amusement. She was simply astonished that a seemingly poised, well respected family could be so benevolent and quite juvenile when it came to exchanges between themselves. It certainly reminded her of when she and Daniel got into their own squabbles when they were younger. And it seemed Daniel was thinking the same as her, seeing as he nudged his arm with hers in acknowledgment of what they were both thinking of. Amelia, however, could only feel a sense of uneasiness while watching the family, her possible new family in the future, before her.

The youngest Wentworth leaned closer to her sister, her almost timid tone drowned out from the arguing ahead of them, "it is meant to be a game, is it not?"

   Poor Amelia, she looked almost queasy. If only she was on better terms with her sister, Charlotte would have cared more and not be so invested in the games ahead of her. Instead, the older Wentworth sister was already thinking of strategy, and so was Daniel. Amelia was practically on her own.

The arguing seized was the Duchess of the lot spoke in a tone filled with finality on the matter before them, "everyone, please, now. The only fair thing to do is to let our invited guests choose their mallets and strike first."

   "Please," Anthony bowed his head slightly in invitation after the siblings all agreed, "take your pick, Miss Amelia."

   After a subtle glance at her siblings in little confidence, Amelia timidly stepped forward, humming to herself in contemplation on the choices of mallets in front of her. After a moment, the girl pointed to her choice, allowing the viscount to take it out for her and present it to her.

Daniel took his cue to pick his own mallet, earning himself a round of hums and applause of acceptance. Finally, it was Charlotte's turn. Stepping forward, the young woman narrowed her eyes in thought before reaching forward and grabbing the black mallet, causing onlookers to gasp at her choice, in surprise and amusement, knowing what was going to most likely occur when it came to reactions from a certain viscount watching her every move.

With wide eyes, Eloise turned to her siblings, muttering in shock, "the mallet of death..."

   "Would you look at that, brother?"

Watching all of them curiously, Charlotte followed all of their gazes, only to land on Anthony, who was biting his thumb nail, almost in contemplation on what he was going to do next. A smirk of understanding graced her lips, finally understanding what she had done, "is this yours?"

   "Not at all," the viscount's response was muffled by his fingers covering his lips, his hips rocking back and forth, "you're welcome to it."

   "You threatened to beat me last time I touched—"

   "You exaggerate."

   Charlotte chuckled heartily at his misfortune and her fortune, "are you the superstitious sort? I know some men cannot perform without their familiar tools. Like a child with a blanket."

   The Bridgertons all chuckled and scoffed in amusement at the low blow, getting a kick out of the humbling of their eldest brother. Ignoring them, Anthony shook his head confidently, though the rest of his stance told a different story, "I can play perfectly well with any mallet. I wish you the best of luck."

   "Are we to stand around deliberating all day, or shall we play?"

   At Eloise's words, the rest of the Bridgerton clan all lunged for a mallet in the basket at once, all rifling for the best mallet they could find. And while everyone else was satisfied with their choosing, and though he would never admit it, Anthony was less than joyful over what mallet he eventually had to choose. The one Eloise used to play with when she was younger. The light pink mallet.

   And so, the games began.

Each person took a turn hitting the balls with their mallets, trying to get them into the small arches placed on the ground. And though it looked and sounded self explanatory, it was harder than it seemed. It took concentration and a bit of skill to achieve a point every time the ball made it through the hole. And while some were struggling at the objective, Charlotte was excelling immensely.

   She was truly in her element. Outdoors, with her siblings and people she now considered friends, playing a game she enjoyed. It reminded her of home. Of times more simple. Of times before everything changed, and not for the better. Charlotte was laughing, smiling, even jumping up and down in excitement whenever she scored, or when she one-upped Anthony with making a shot he could not. And though Amelia was still cross with her sister, seeing her so happy and carefree made her lips tick up in a smile.

Every shot Anthony attempted, Charlotte was the one to ultimately score in his path, and though she was winning in that department, the viscount continued to win the heart of her younger sister. And unlike the week before, Charlotte now knew there was nothing she could do to stop the match from happening.

It was on one of the last holes that the game took a turn. Charlotte and Anthony's balls were now right beside each other. And everyone was on the edge of their seats, figuratively, as to who would win after such a long game and rivalry between the two.

"You have the chance to best him," Eloise pointed out to Charlotte in excitement as the group made their way to where the balls had landed.

"That would not be very sportsmanlike, would it?"

Charlotte quirked a playful brow at Colin, "I was told unsportsmanlike conduct was a requirement for this game."

Daphne let out a chuckle, "a fast learner you are indeed, Miss Wentworth."

   Having his own fun during the game, Daniel clamped a palm against his sister's shoulder, "a fast learner and a competitive perfectionist."

"Ha, ha," Charlotte playfully shrugged his hand off before catching sight of a certain uneasy viscount, "what do you say, my lord? Are you in a losing mood?"

   Anthony raised a brow, leaning his weight against the mallet pressing into the grass, "my mood shall remain unchanged, regardless of your choice."

The eldest Wentworth woman raised her own brow, almost challenging his claim, "ah, is that so," she almost sounded full of pity for him, "you would bravely beat the crushing shame of defeat?"

"Play pleasant, Lottie."

"Not to worry, Miss Amelia," the viscount assured the younger Wentworth, who surprisingly acknowledged her sister in the first place, let alone used a term of endearment. The man straightened his back, "in light of my brothers' and sisters' tactics, Miss Wentworth conducts herself with much grace indeed."

Charlotte mocked a bright smile at his words, "huh. Then you shall not mind this."

Without much warning, the woman swung her mallet and hit both her and the viscount's ball at once and flew them into the sea of trees in front of them, into the green, grassy plains, earning a round of enthusiastic applause at her sheer natural way of winning a game she had only started learning how to play.

Then, it was Amelia's turn.

With less confidence than her sister, Amelia lined her mallet up with her ball and swung, trying her best to get it into the white fenced hole pushed into the ground. She could feel the eyes of not only everyone watching her, but her could-be-betrothed the most. It was as if this once swing could tell him everything about her. And by the way the ball missed the hole completely and the way the applause was static with hesitation, she was not giving her best showing of herself.

   Sheepishly, Amelia turned around, almost afraid to meet the viscount's, or anyone's, eyes, "I am bested, I see."

"You could still retrieve your ball if you wish to stay in the game," Daphne stepped forward in encouragement, planting her mallet on the ground.

Amelia chuckled softly before casting her gaze to her sister and brother, who gave her two completely different reactions. While Daniel gave her a nod of compliance, Charlotte only gave her a gentle tick of her lip, not wanting to make her feel pressured to do anything she did not want to do, knowing exactly how that felt like. After a moment, Amelia bowed her head, swallowing her pride and the lump in her throat, "I think I shall cut out."

Bowing in respect, Amelia took her leave, not waiting for anyone in return, though the viscount did start to follow in surprise, not expecting her to leave the game so suddenly. Not wanting to watch, Charlotte turned to her brother, who also looked a bit perturbed at his sister's behavior.

Charlotte raised a brow at him while the game continued around them, "don't, Daniel. She's growing up. It's time for her to make her own decisions. Whether you agree with them or not."

Knowing she was right, Daniel did not see the need to reply, only giving her a short nod in return. The siblings turned their attention back to the game as Anthony rejoined the group without Amelia by his side just as Collin took his position to take his shot. Charlotte could not help but stiffen when seeing the balls the Bridgerton man was aiming to. The two balls she and the viscount would have to face off with in the next round no matter where they ended up.

   And the balls ended up right in the middle of the woods and out of everyone's sight.

   As everyone else chuckled around her, Charlotte's features remained passive at the circumstances before her, feeling Daniel's heavy hand land on her shoulder.

   "Yes! What a shame," Collin directed his sarcastic statement toward the Wentworth woman, "you two better go fetch them. Unless you would like to quit, here and now?"

And before she knew it, Charlotte was stomping off into the woods with Anthony Bridgerton right on her trail, completely missing the contemplative stare Daphne was giving them as they walked off. As the two ventured further into the wooded area, using their mallets as a way to move branches out of their eye-lines. Charlotte was trying to play nice with her younger sister's words in her head, but every grunt or groan that left the viscount's lips were increasing her irritability by the second.

   "You best hope your play does not hand victory to my brothers, or we shall never hear the end of it," the viscount cleared the silence between them that was interrupted by the occasional move of a branch.

   Charlotte was close to rolling her eyes so hard they would be stuck inside her head, "while you would be magnanimous in victory, I am sure."

   The two stumbled across the end of the thick clearing, only to see their balls laying atop of muck. Brown, sludgy, deep, muck.

   "Oh, dash it!"

   "We could pluck them out," Charlotte suggested after a moment, her brow raised, "no one would be any the wiser."

   Anthony only deadpanned, "but I would know," and proceeded toward the mud.

   Huh.

   Tickle Charlotte full of sudden shock.

   She did not hesitate to follow him, intrigued with his response, "so, you do have honor, then. At least as far as sport is concerned."

   "That, and the fact I suspect you'd loudly advertise my cheating the moment I stepped out of line."

   "And vice versa."

   The two reached the edge of where the grass and mud met and paused, unclear of what exactly was their next move. While watching the viscount nudge the mud with his mallet and nothing else, Charlotte was in the midst of her own internal battle with herself on what to do. On one hand, she knew exactly what she wanted. But on the other hand, she knew it was impractical and inappropriate to it do in front of a gentleman, no less a lord. Though, maybe it would be a sort of olive branch to show her sister she could be accommodating to circumstances regarding her soon-to-be betrothed.

   So, without a pinch of hesitation, Charlotte held up the ends of her dress, "there's nothing for it, then."

   The thick mud under her delicate covered feet was blocked from her mind just from the mere sight of the viscount's jaw dropping at her walking straight into the mud and hitting the black ball into the grassy plain once again. With a sigh of satisfaction, Charlotte gestured to him, "your play, my lord. Unless you do not wish to dirty those fine boots of yours?"

   "Do not worry about my boots."

   The Wentworth woman watched with the viscount walk belligerently into the mud with an amused smile. His mallet hitting her pink ball that clashed with his black ball. As soon as the shot was made, the viscount made his way out of the muck with Charlotte on his tail, or so she thought.

It was only trying to take the second step did she have trouble getting her foot out of the mud. She couldn't get out. After a few tries, she called out to the viscount who wasn't having any trouble getting out himself, "help."

"Just pull."

"I am trying. It is stuck."

Anthony looked her up and down.

Charlotte reached her hand out.

Anthony threw his mallet down in annoyance.

The two grabbed hold of each other and started to pull.

"Ow!"

"Do you want my help or not?"

For some reason, unbeknownst to both of them, Charlotte started to chuckle.

Trying to get a better grip, the viscount started to grab hold of her waist, which ultimately left himself unbalanced, and sent them both falling backwards into the mud. For a moment, the two simply laid there, not wanting to move, but knowing there was no point because mud was everywhere at that point. Charlotte, in particular, was almost having an out of body experience. Though the man next to her was annoyed beyond belief, that was the most fun she had had in years.

Charlotte was never allowed to get dirty. She was never allowed to talk out of turn, or even talk most of the time. She was never allowed to do anything William did not want her to do. There she was, laying in mud, her dress ruined, her hair dirtied, her jewels rusted. And the best part was, she did not have to fear the consequences anymore. She was free.

"It is not amusing," the viscount tried to say, but she simply did not care to listen. And after a moment of listening to her laugh and looking up at the sky with the biggest smile on her face, he could not stop himself from joining in.

Holding a muddied palm to her chest to calm herself, Charlotte excused herself, "I'm sorry, my lord. I just have not had this much fun in a long time."

His own laughter ceasing, Anthony furrowed his brow in intrigue, "falling into mud and dirtying your dress is fun to you?"

"Anything is better than not being able to be who you want to be."

Not giving him the chance to give her rash statement more thought, Charlotte ungracefully got up from the mud and offered him her hand, to which he grabbed onto for support. Simultaneously, their smiles returned when they got a proper look at one another and just how dirty they both were, Charlotte more than the viscount.

"I believe I... underestimated you, Miss Wentworth," Anthony grabbed hold of her hand to guide her out of the mud successfully.

Ignoring the slightly uncomfortable feeling of her dress sticking to her legs, Charlotte contributed to the conversation with slight hesitance, "that seems to be the theme of our acquaintance, does it not?"

"Well, since we are long past formalities... tell me frankly," the viscount grunted as he shook excess mud from his coat, "what must I do to win your approval?"

Charlotte's demeanor deflated, her lips pursed before she answered, "I do not withhold it out of spite, my lord. I simply wish to steer my sister to the greatest possible happiness. It is what my parents did for me and it is what I will do for her. I'd have thought you could understand my position, seeing as you too have sisters to protect."

"It's different. It's my duty as their guardian—"

"I, and Daniel, are the same for Amelia, in every way that matters."

Anthony only gazed at her for a moment before settling, "then let us put our past acrimony behind us, and allow me to prove I can offer your sister all the happiness and security you seek. Could you... Could you do me that favor?"

It was hard to answer such a question without telling him her true motives. But how do you tell a stranger the real reason she does not want him to marry her sister is because she is scared he will destroy her as William did to her? It was unfair on all fronts, but that was the way it had to be. For now.

As a way to deflect, Charlotte threw her mallet and caught in high spirits, "truce or not, I shall never surrender to you in the sporting field."

Hitting both balls again, her pink ball hit a large tree branch, falling onto a wooden bench a ways away from the pair.

"Ha! Your turn, my lord," the Wentworth turned to face the man, only to find his smile had diminished, causing hers to mirror his own in a moment, "is something the matter?" In the distance, the sound of cheers and claps could be heard, signaling the ultimate winner of the game was Daphne, not to anyone's surprise. Charlotte chuckled, "she will be amusing company at dinner," she observed him once again, stepping closer to him in concern, "Lord Bridgerton, is everyone alright?"

"The game is over."

Charlotte could not stop his hardened figure from walking away from her so suddenly. But she knew she wanted to find out what made him so stoic so quickly. Dress still full of muck, Charlotte carried herself over to where her ball ended up, which happened to be right in front of the wooden bench and next to a tall monument. It was surrounded by flowers and noticeably handled with care every day.

IN LOVING MEMORY
of
8TH VISCOUNT
EDMUND
BRIDGERTON
Who died in May 1803
THIS MEMORIAL IS PLACED HERE BY HIS LOVING FAMILY

Oh, dash it.

❦

stay tuned for the next chapter.. it's gonna be buzzing with excitement...
peace & love—comment & vote xoxo
edited: june 2024