chapter fourteen: wait for your love
( trigger warning: sexual & violent content. )

❦

   William was back.

   William was taking her away to Paris.

   William threatened the Bridgertons.

   William was back.

   Charlotte Wentworth had one more night with her family.

   One more night in London.

   One more night of freedom.

   One more night with Anthony Bridgerton.

   Round and round were all those thoughts spinning on a loop in the young woman's mind while she got ready for the Bridgerton's ball. Truthfully, the thoughts appeared as soon as William appeared at the gallery mere hours ago. His presence should not have surprised her, but alas, it did. He really had the courage, the absolute gall, the show face in a building where he could be recognized. Not by many people, but by a fair few—her family.

Charlotte had forgotten the way he carried himself with such rigor. She could only imagine him walking around the gallery unnoticed by everyone without a care in the world until he found her all alone, right where he wanted her. How he reveled in watching her tremble beneath his burning gaze, his searing touch that made her skin crawl. She wanted nothing more than for their encounter to be nothing but a horrible nightmare, but it was anything but.

   The Wentworth's did not stay at the gallery long after Charlotte expressed to her brother the desire to leave once she turned her back from the viscount. She simply gave the excuse of a sudden feeling of overwhelm and that was enough for Daniel to tell Lady Danbury they were ready to leave.

The thought of finally telling Daniel of William's return had crossed her mind on the carriage ride back, but Charlotte knew it was too dangerous for him to be involved. It was better for everyone in her life if she followed William's instructions and left with him to Paris to make sure everyone was safe and sound in London.

   Charlotte would miss London, of course. The sights of undiscovered landmarks, the excitement of new beginnings every morning, the people—believe it or not—who were mostly welcoming and always true to who they were. The people of London encouraged Charlotte to not shy away and become her true authentic self as much as she could, given the circumstances.

Now, sitting at her vanity, with only seconds to spare alone before having to leave for the Bridgerton's estate, Charlotte could not stop her chin from quivering at the thought of having that stripped away so soon. All the progress she had made with her confidence, speaking her mind, standing up for what she thought was right, what she believed in. It was all for nothing.

   Hearing her name being called from downstairs, Charlotte quickly dried her eyes, being careful her light makeup was not smudged, before hurrying to meet her siblings and Lady Danbury outside to leave for the ball. The young woman hoped more than anything she could have one last night filled with happiness and dancing with those she loved and cherished more than anything.

Walking into the Bridgerton's home, Charlotte did not know if being the first to arrive was a good or a bad thing, seeing as the dance hall was completely empty except for the two families and the band above on the balcony, who had already started playing. She warmly greeted every Bridgerton individually, like she always did, and thought nothing of the uninhabited ballroom that had yet to be filled by the ton. She figured everyone had yet to arrive. However, due to some other reactions, that seemed to not be the case.

   "Well, this is unexpected," Lady Bridgerton glanced around the room looking less than unhappy, "though I suppose it is still quite early."

   The conductor cleared his throat as he approached the woman, "would you like us to play, my lady?"

   "That will not be necessary."

Charlotte sighed deeply to herself, shifting her feet as a wave of sadness rolled through her. All she craved was one last night of fun with those she loved, and it seemed as though the night was about to be cut short.

   A couple steps away, Benedict scratched the back of his neck awkwardly at the change of events, "if there's no need for my presence, I'll head to my studio. I do not wish to be around such misery all evening."

   Lord Bridgerton quickly stopped his brother from taking another step, "wait."

   "I know of your opinions."

   "You will stay for a dance. There shall be dancing," the viscount glanced around the room before turning back toward his brother, seemingly making a point, "a new perspective, yes?"

   Colin furrowed his brow from beside his sister, "dancing? With whom?"

   "Anthony."

   The viscount only smirked, disregarding his mother's warning filled with apprehension. He raised his voice, aiming for the balcony, "Hyacinth!"

   The young girl peaked over the railing, "yes, brother?"

   "Come down here and do me the honor."

   The youngest Bridgerton gasped in excitement as Gregory scoffed in detest from beside her, "if she gets to dance, then so do I."

   Charlotte could not help but chuckle as she, along with everyone else, watched the two youngest siblings race down the steps to join in on the fun. She also could not take her eyes off the viscount, who twirled his sister as soon as he took her hand. Anyone could tell by a simple glance how much he loved and valued his siblings.

   "Something lively. A country dance, perhaps," Lord Bridgerton called to the orchestra above as they all joined hands to create a circle. He then smiled gently at his mother, almost like a peace offering, "I believe the theme you have chosen tonight is harmony, mother."

The woman nodded graciously as the music started playing overhead. The melody was up beat and the perfect symphony to bring people together. The two families let themselves start to let loose and feel the music, bowing to their respective partners before going in and out of the circle, separating into groups of twos and threes, and skipping about the room without a care in the world.

   Charlotte laughed with Colin as they almost tripped over their own feet as they pranced around the room before going back into the circle, clapping along with everyone. This was what she wanted. All the sorrow she would soon face meant nothing during the present. She was surrounded by the ones she cared for most in the world. And as soon as she unconsciously skipped into Anthony Bridgerton arms, she fully let everything go to chance.

They had not truly danced together since the ball Daphne walked in on them in the study, but this time, nothing was stopping them from smiling at each other, from holding hands freely—anything they wanted to do, they could without thinking twice. Even when the music ended and everyone slowed to a stop did they not step out of their embrace. Their hands stayed interlinked, their eyes connected. Selfishly, Charlotte stayed there, with him, a little longer than she should have, knowing after tonight, she would not see his face possibly for the rest of her life.

However, she knew she had to be the one to leave the hold they had on one another first. Charlotte faced forward to stand beside him, clapping along with everyone else as the excitement of the dance died down. She tried her hardest not to feel his scorching gaze burn a hole in the side of her head, reminding herself it was for the best.

Everyone eventually gravitated toward the food because, well, someone had to eat it, and Charlotte took that as the perfect opportunity to separate herself from the viscount, avoiding any and all conversation that would end feeding him more lies of how she did not care for him. Furthermore, if she had to tell him once more how being together was impossible, she might fall apart completely.

   Charlotte found herself in the marvelous company of Eloise, whom she had not gotten to speak to one-on-one in quite some time, much to her dismay. So much had happened since her last talk with Eloise, and the Wentworth did not know the next time the two would be able to speak just the two of them, even if it was over at the snack table with their respective siblings a couple of steps away from them.

   Grabbing a small plate, Charlotte started to help herself to some of the hors d'oeuvres, "I wanted to thank you, Eloise."

Eloise looked up at the woman in surprise, not expecting to be thanked for anything whatsoever, "whatever for, Charlotte?"

"For being such a good person for me to confide in you the way I did that day on the terrace," Charlotte put down her plate, giving her fullest attention to the younger woman, making sure her words were heard, "you were the only one who knew, besides my brother, up until now. Confiding in you showed me that being honest with others and myself wasn't as scary as I thought it would be. You are a wonderful person, Eloise. Don't ever forget that."

   The Bridgerton girl seemed touched at the statement, even going as far as to place her hand on Charlotte's shoulder. With so much going on in both of their lives, it was easy to forget the importance of appreciating those who have helped you along the way. They have helped each other differently on their own paths, to which they were each eternally grateful. Eloise was about to reply when she suddenly overheard some commotion behind her that instantly grabbed her attention.

   "Mrs. Wilson," Lady Bridgerton called for the head maid of the house over, the woman wearing a troubled look on her face, "is something wrong?"

   Mrs. Wilson seemed to hesitate in answering before handing over a familiar pamphlet, "it was just delivered, ma'am."

Eloise approached with optimistic caution, attracting the attention of her siblings and the Wentworths, "is that Lady Whistledown? Has she published, mama?"

"Indeed, she has," Lady Bridgerton hummed, her eyes scanning the pamphlet, "and now we may know why we are the only ones here."

Furrowing her brow, Charlotte made her way behind Eloise, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder as she looked over her shoulder to read the article for herself. If the ton was in fact buying their story of the two families making peace with one another, then what was it that kept them away from the ball?

Should our lives be distilled down to the sum total of our choices, then Miss Eloise Bridgerton has certainly made a dangerous, perhaps ruinous one.

For she's apparently been associating, unchaperoned, with improper company. Political radicals, in fact. It might be that the young miss spends a great deal of time considering her decisions. Or, perhaps, they were made in haste.

Whatever the case may be, we all must remember, as one makes one's bed, so one must lie in it.

   Charlotte could not believe what she was reading. Who in their right mind could write such hurtful, damaging words about another person? Much less Eloise Bridgerton? However, the content of the pamphlet was troubling to read nevertheless. Although Charlotte admired the young Bridgerton for participating in events and meeting people with similar ideas as her, how she was going about it was not only dangerous for her reputation, but dangerous to her safety. The villages of London were an unpredictable place. Who knows what could have happened to Eloise during her visits without anyone to look after her—without her family knowing where she was.

   The Wentworth looked up from the paper with pursed lips as an uncomfortable, seemingly unbreakable silence hushed over the room. She had no idea what to do or  how to comfort Eloise or anyone in this situation. And as she watched Eloise give the paper back to her mother and run out of the room, Charlotte could not help but try to stop her, "Eloise—"

Her attempt was of no use. Distraught, Eloise stifled the cries as best she could, making a fast escape up the stairs and into hiding for the rest of the night. Charlotte seemed to fold into herself, pressing the tips of her fingers to her lips in distressed thought, turning around to lock eyes with the eldest Bridgerton, who was already watching her every move. Her eyes seemed to hold every question while he too was looking for all the answers she was searching for.

He needed to think. Everything was falling apart at the seams of his family and he needed to think. He needed to be anywhere but where she was—or else she would be at the forefront of his mind like she always was. Without a second thought, Anthony made the haste decision to leave the opposite direction his sister did a moment ago, leaving out into the front lawn and into the night, signaling to everyone in the ballroom he needed time to handle everything on his own.

No matter how much he longed for Charlotte to be by his side.

❦

   The grounds of the Bridgerton estate had never felt so peaceful. Yet Charlotte still felt as though she were walking along flames with every step. She wanted to soak up all that London had to offer when it came to its serene, pristine lands.

Charlotte turned down the offer of riding with her siblings back to Danbury Manor with them—telling them she would be joining them later on, needing time to herself. And that was not a lie. The young woman wanted her final moments in London to be as peaceful as possible. Under the bright stars, the full moon, the freshest air the Earth could provide her. All because tomorrow was no longer promised.

   In only mere hours from now, Charlotte would be giving herself away for the second time to William Cuttingham. To be his wife. His hand to tug around the room. His body to fling around as much as he pleased. His target for insults he knows would not dare say anything back. Everything she had ever done to regain what strength she built would slowly soft into nothingness.

   Settled on a bench in the dimly lit gazebo, candles being the only light provided, Charlotte quickly wiped a single tear that fell. She did not want to waste her last hours of freedom feeling sad or sorry for herself. If anything, she should be spending it with her siblings, but she knew the closer to morning it was, the more auspicious her behavior would become, and she could not deal with their incestuous questions.

"What are you doing out here?"

Anthony Bridgerton revealed himself from the shadows of the night as Charlotte quickly settled from the slight surprise of hearing his voice, quickly standing, "my apologies."

"No, no, please. Stay."

"You were here first."

"I was just leaving."

"It is your house, my lord."

"It does not signify—"

"Perhaps it should."

"Must you always?"

"You were the one insinuating."

"And this is you compromising?"

Sick of the back and forth, Charlotte harshly scoffed at his audacity, "good night, my lord."

"Can you ever just agree," the viscount breathed deeply in utter frustration, "you have been like this from the moment we collided in front of the bookstore. Obstinate, inflexible, unyielding to good, plain common sense. Even once coming to an agreement of our mutual feelings, you continue to play these games."

Charlotte shook her head as her temper started to rise, "well, I can certainly understand why that would be so troubling for a man like you. A man used to always getting his way. A man used to giving orders—"

"—I do not give orders."

"You give me orders and you expect me to listen," the young woman almost spat at him, "I do not listen—"

"Perhaps you should—"

"I shall never listen to you! Or to anyone I wholeheartedly disagree with," Charlotte finally shouted over him, not only needing him to listen to her words, but herself as well, "the fact it is taken you this long to come to terms with that, to accept that fact—"

Anthony clenched his jaw, "you wish to know why?"

"I am uncertain you even know why."

"I know why."

"Then please, enthrall me with your self-awareness," Charlotte almost mocked him, not expecting much from the next words from his mouth.

   "It is because I have never met anyone like you," Lord Bridgerton answered without hesitation, sighing deeply, "it is maddening, how much you consume my very being. My family is on the brink of ruin. I am nearly certain every last one of my brothers and sisters secretly despise me. My own mother, at that. Despite the fact I have lived the better part of my life for them. And yet still, all I find myself thinking about, all I find myself being able to breathe for... is you. Do you think that I want to be in this position? Contending with these thoughts of wanting to be nowhere except with you. Wanting to run away with you," the confession came out in a whisper before he started walking toward her, "of acting on the most impure, forbidden desires, no matter... how much I must remind myself I am a gentleman, and you are a lady. Of that... of that scent. It has remained imprinted on my mind ever since the night of the conservatory ball on that terrace. Vanilla," the man exhaled sharply as he controlled himself the best he could as her scent continued to evade his senses, "you have to stop."

   "I have to stop," Charlotte could only whisper back incredulously.

   Anthony kept his brows furrowed, seemingly in pure agony, "there is no other course of action to be concluded. You must stop!"

   "It has been you," Charlotte walked around him, shaking her head, "it has been you this entire time. Spinning my world off its axis, making me reconsider everything I have ever told myself. Everything he has ever told me... I came here resolved... to save my family. Everything I have ever done—"

   "—Has been for them."

   The Wentworth sighed, the intense argument settling into the quiet of the night, "has been for them," she watched him only nod, proving his point further. Charlotte could only plead to him, "you are the one who must stop. You are the one who must stop. Before—"

   "Before what? Before we both finally do something for ourselves," the viscount challenged softly, his resolve out of the window. The man exhaled deeply, staring her down as if she would disappear at any given moment, "please go inside."

   Charlotte did not dare move an inch.

   Another exhale, "go in... side."

   "What did I tell you about you and your orders?"

   Charlotte's heart seemed to beat out of her chest as she watched him stare at her in utter disbelief. She was even a bit shocked at her behavior as well. But if this was truly her final night in London, and her final night with the man she would never see again, she would do whatever she would please with him. Forbidden or not.

A small gasp left her lips as soon as their bodies collided, wrapping her arms around his neck as her lips connected with his, catching the taste of whiskey and tobacco. His harsh grip on her waist made a moan escape her lips, allowing his tongue to explore her mouth freely, before the viscount let his hands wander into uncharted territory.

The bottom of Charlotte's dress bunched in his grasp, the viscount finally getting a taste of the woman's warmth over her satin undergarment. Charlotte tilted her head back, whining into the dusk air, the feeling of his hands on her almost euphoric. Then suddenly, they were apart.

   Anthony ripped away from the woman, almost as if the fabric of her dress had burned him, "I will stop."

"Do not stop," Charlotte nearly begged, trying to grab his overcoat, but he continued to back away.

"I will stop."

"Do not stop."

Her pleas were silenced by his lips once more. The kiss darkens with passion, possession, intoxication yet tenders with an equal feeling of desire and need. Somehow, Anthony was successful in turning Charlotte around, having her back lean against his chest, pecking sporadic kisses down her neck as her dress fell to the floor, leaving her in her bra and underwear. She could not wait to turn around and help him take off his overcoat and unbutton his shirt, all the while touching him someway, somehow.

Charlotte could not get enough of him. His lips, the slight stubble on his cheeks, his eyes, his nose, his hair. Everything. And gazing down at him once he fell to his knees at the sight of her in only her undergarments, she felt as though she were finally worth to be admired.

Once he was finished removing the last of his shirt layers, Anthony pressed a kiss to Charlotte's stomach, wanting to be even closer to her, before starting to roll down her knee high tights, giving him the access he so desperately wanted.

Before she knew it, Charlotte found herself lying beneath the pillows and blankets that were once on the benches beside her with Anthony on top of her, pressing sensual kisses along every inch of her body. Slowly, the viscount started placing kisses down the center of her stomach, his fingers tantalizingly moving over the thin layer of satin, causing Charlotte to arch her back at the tease.

Charlotte was in complete bliss. She squeezed his free hand that rested against her chest as her other clenched the pillow her head rested on as waves of pleasure continued to roll through her. She felt herself clench against his lips and fingers as he began to press even deeper into her. The woman raked her fingers through his hair as a cry of pleasure ripped through her throat. Her hips jolted uncontrollably into his mouth, prompting him to push away from her wetness to devour her lips once more.

Her legs automatically wrapped around her waist as he fit snugly in between her thighs, their lips never parting. Charlotte had no cares, no other thoughts in her mind. Every feeling or thought had to do with one person only and she was in his arms. Everything else would wait until morning. But she knew, in the back of her mind, the morning would come sooner rather than later.

And it would all be just a memory.

❦

She wished the sun did not have to rise.

Charlotte pretended to fall asleep in Anthony's arms when they finished, though she was truly exhausted. She simply could not risk either him waking before her or her missing the time she needed to wake to leave and meet William.

   She took the time with the viscount asleep to truly admire him. To memorize every detail of his face. Every freckle, birthmark, mole, anything. What if one day she was walking on the streets of Paris and he happened to be walking the same path as her? She would want to say hi. She would want to be able to recognize him. Though she knew she would never be able to forget him no matter how hard she may want to try.

It was not long until Charlotte knew she would have to leave. She could see the sun begin to peak out from the lawn as rain clouds started to roll in from every angle. She knew this was the best time as any to leave before it was too late. Getting up as gently, but as swiftly as she could, Charlotte gathered her clothes, held them to her body to cover herself and ran for shelter to change before leaving the grounds unnoticed.

   Charlotte did not have a reason to even go into Danbury Manor once she arrived on the grounds, having hidden a bag of her belongings in the stables a few days before so she would not disturb her sister and risk getting caught packing and leaving. She felt horrible for such a deception, but she was only protecting her siblings and the Bridgertons from William. Though she had yet to see if his threat held any value.

   The rain had started to intensify by the time Charlotte arrived at the meeting point. She wrapped her arms around herself as she looked around for William, who had yet to make an appearance himself.

"Nice to see you actually listened to me for once," William's voice carried over the rain behind her, causing her to turn around quickly in fright at his sudden arrival.

Charlotte watched him throw down his own bag on the damp grass, furrowing her brow at his comment, "it is not as though you gave me any choice in the matter."

"See you say that," the man continued to shuffle through the bag, irritation growing in his chest, "but deep down, you know you want to be with me, love, so let's skip all this chit chat and get going, yes? Ah, here it is."

Charlotte's eyes widened at the silver dagger William pulled from his bag. The ivory material pierced through the pelting rain with ease. The young woman tried to swallow the lump in her throat the best she could, watching the man before her cautiously, "why do you have that, William?"

   The man looked away from the fascinating weapon, his expression flattening once seeing her frightened features, "do not be afraid, my dear. This is only in case I have to use it. We do not want anyone getting in our way, do we?"

He had lost his mind, surely.

Charlotte had always known William was not the gentle type. He had a temper, he had his moments of violence. But to see such a dangerous weapon in his hand. To hear him speak about hurting someone in such a viscous way so indifferently. It truly scared her—terrified her. She could no longer go with him.

She needed a way out.

Clenching her fists so hard her nails pierced her palms, Charlotte watched him start to organize everything before their departure. Now she was soaked from the rain head to toe and a short time away before staff and her siblings woke up for the day. She did not have a lot of time. If she wanted out, she needed to do it now.

   "William," she started, though a bit hesitant, "before we go, could I please say goodbye to Amelia and Daniel? I promise nothing will come of it. I cannot bear to leave them without saying goodbye."

   "Did you not spend time with them last night?"

   The question made Charlotte's blood turn cold. She opened her lips then closed them again. No words coming to mind to answer, no excuse, no lie could come to mind. Her lack of response prompted William to look up through the pelting rain. She swallowed thickly at his hardened expression, not wanting to raise his suspicions with her behavior. But with him, she could not help herself. He would always scare her.

William stood straighter from his crouched position, dagger still in his grasp as he slowly began to walk closer to her while she was frozen in her spot, "Charlotte, did you not sleep here last night?"

She did not answer.

The man took her silence as an answer, putting the pieces together himself. Her flushed cheeks, Her tangled hair, not just from the rain showering down on them, her bare arms missing her satin gloves, her wrinkled dress. His dark eyes studied her head to toe before meeting her eyes once more. Charlotte tried not to flinch away from his piercing glare, but it was nearly impossible.

"You were with him, weren't you," William nearly spat out the question he needed not the answer to. He raked his free hand through his hair before starting to pace erratically, "all this time, I was doing everything I could to get you to come home with me, while you were with him with your legs spread like a filthy whore. I bet you liked it, too, eh? Did you?!"

   Charlotte flinched as he shouted over the rain. He was spiraling, and fast. But she knew what she needed to do, she only hoped she would be able to forgive herself.

   Pursing her dry lips, the woman did her best for him to hear her over not only the rain, but his own turmoil, "no."

   William stopped his pacing, his knuckles still white while gripping the dagger, "what?"

   "I did not enjoy it," the lie spilled from her lips with ease as she walked over to him with caution, "with every touch, every caress, every kiss, every word, I thought of you. I did what I had to do to survive. But now I am here with you, where I belong," Charlotte tried not to tremble as she brought her hand up to cup his cheek, distracting him enough for him not to notice her other hand starting to reach for the dagger in his grasp.

   She watched him closely, seeing him lean in to press his lips against hers, and right before he could, Charlotte ripped the dagger from his tight grasp. She gasped for breath, adrenaline rushed through her as she backed away from him, pointing the weapon at him in warning.

   William was now the one to watch her closely, bringing his hands up in surrender, "Charlotte, put down the knife."

   "Get away from me!"

   "Charlotte—"

   "No," the woman cried out over the rain, keeping both hands on the handle, "you have taken so very much from me. My dignity, my confidence, my self worth. The ability to think I was worth anything in this world. To believe I could be loved the way I should. You did that! You were supposed to be my husband. You were supposed to love me, protect me, guide me to be the best person I could be. Instead you used me for your own selfish gain."

   William slowly put down his hands, letting the words thrown at him sink in. As if a flip had switched in his mind, he suddenly took a step toward her, causing her to take one back. Clenching his jaw, the man grew impatient with his wife's childish actions, "on the contrary, my dear. I taught you exactly how the world works. The world is a scary place for a woman. Especially a woman such as you who values her opinion and likes to share it as much as you do. There is no place in this world for a woman with a mind of her own. Now, put down the knife."

   Biting her lip until she drew blood, Charlotte knew she was officially out of options and time. All she could do now was run. And that was what she did. In a drastic split decision, she took off in the opposite direction and ran as fast as she could, shouting for help, praying someone would hear her from any part of the Manor.

   It did not take long before William caught up to her, catching her from behind. He wrapped his arms around her middle, reaching for the dagger in her grasp, both struggling to keep it with them. The wet, slick ground did not help their scuffle, making them fall to the ground.

   Charlotte laid with William on top of her as she continued to fight for the knife. She grunted loudly, trying to keep up with his strong grip and undeniable skills he had as an advantage over her. It was not before long did her wet hands slip from the rain.

   Then all she felt was pain.

   At first it was only a slight stinging sensation in her stomach. Almost like a paper cut or she had stabbed her finger on a quill on accident. It then progressed to an unbearable amount of pressure that made it harder and harder to breathe and focus on anything else but the overwhelming pain in her stomach.

   Charlotte gasped at the sensation as all the air in her body left her lips. She tried to look down from her position on her back, but all she could see was the handle of the dagger and a pool of blood starting to surround it. It was only after a moment did she feel the weight of the body on top of her get off of her and run away, leaving her in the pouring rain.

   She tried desperately to keep her eyes open, to remind herself to keep breathing, to think of anything to keep herself awake for as long as she could, but it felt nearly impossible. Charlotte had never felt pain so horrible in her life. She could feel everything start to fade. Her ears were starting to ring, her vision starting to blur, her thoughts starting to jumble all into one. Soon, there would be nothing left.

   If only she knew to hold on a little longer.

   If only she knew someone heard her cries for help.

❦

i love u my darlings <3
peace & love — comment & vote xoxo
edited: june 2024