talk of the ton
bridgerton one-shots
lord byron , anthony bridgerton

20. "It's three in the morning ..."
( requested by @ssssimpppp )

Y/N'S EYES WERE BEGINNING to droop as she turned yet another page of the book in her hands, squinting as she read by the dying light of the candle on her bedside.

She shook herself awake determined to finish the end of the poem before finally giving into sleep's tempting clutches — however, her tiredness still persisted.

That was until a loud crash echoed from out in the hallway, startling her so much she nearly fell out of her bed. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, as she hesitantly got to her feet, holding her book out in front of her as she edged towards the door.

Letting out a shaky breath, she squared her jaw and pressed her ear to the door. The sound of muffled footsteps could be heard progressing down the corridor. She didn't have plan, just a rather heavy book — apparently, that was enough.

With hardly any thought, she opened the door of the guest room in which she was staying and strode out into the hall. Her eyes landed on a tall figure and before she could comprehend it, she had raised her book in her hands and knocked the figure over the head with it.

"Ow!"

The sudden impact of book against his head sent the figure stumbling sideways before regaining his balance and pressing a hand to his head with a small groan. Y/N's eyes widened, the second the exclamation had left his lips, she became aware of the mistake she had made.

"Anthony?!"

With an expression of discomfort and eyes wide with disbelief, the eldest Bridgerton sibling turned around to face her causing her to lower the book in a less aggressive hold.

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry! I thought there was an intruder—"

"What on earth did you hit me with?!" Anthony interrupted, incredulously, his hand still pressing down upon where she'd accidentally struck him.

"My book." She answered, sheepishly, holding the book up so he could see the title. "Collective works of Lord Byron."

"A better weapon than read then." He mused, a look of distaste crossing his features that tempted Y/N to hit him with it again, but she refrained.

"Don't bring Lord Byron into this!" She scolded him, her eyebrows furrowing before her expression quickly softened back into concern. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'll be just fine." He assured her, letting out a sharp sigh as he lowered his hand from his head before shooting her a curious look. "What are you doing still awake?"

"It's not that late, is it?"

"Y/N, it's—" The viscount fumbled around in his pocket, before withdrawing his father's pocket watch. "It's three in the morning..."

"Oh." She exclaimed, her eyes widening in surprise as they shot back to her book. "I've clearly been too wrapt in my texts. Why are you awake?"

"I'll got rather thirsty, what with the heat." He explained, candidly, as he folded his arms across his front. "I'm going down the kitchen for some milk."

"Oh, that sounds like a good idea." Y/N nodded, before quirking a brow at the man. "May I join you?"

"As long as you leave Mr Byron."

"You are hard to please, Lord Bridgerton." Y/N chuckled, holding the book closer to her as she shook her head at the viscount.

"I think it a fair request." Anthony shrugged, a glint of humour in his tone. "I don't need you smacking me with it again."

"And suppose we encounter an intruder?" Y/N countered, a small smile creeping onto her face at his teasing. "If I'm without Lord Byron, what shall we do?"

"I have my fists and I'm very frightening when I'm angry." He informed her, before contorting his face into a look of faux sternness.

"Yes, your lips do go very unattractively thin. You're right, the intruder will take one look at you and scarper!" Y/N agreed with a small smirk, as a quiet laugh shook through the viscount beside her.

Y/N was almost incredulous, she'd had many a conversation with Anthony before — what with her being a close family friend of the Bridgertons — but cause him to laugh, she had not. He always maintained such a hard exterior, and Y/N wondered why when his laugh sounded simply like music to her ears.

"A laugh, was that?" She teased, suddenly very thankful for the darkness they stood in that masked the blush rising up her cheeks. "Well, I quite the version of you at this hour."

"You mustn't tell." He smiled back, stepping a little closer to her and lowering his voice. "I've got to remain frightening, if the intruders catch word that I'm jovial, they'll shan't leave."

"Yes, you'll be making jokes while they steal your mother's silverware." Y/N persisted, her smirk never fading as Anthony's eyes bored into hers.

She had never noticed how beautiful his eyes really were, but then again she'd never been so close to him to notice, and Lord was she close to him now. She tried desperately to prevent her breath from hitching in her throat but it was no use.

She was almost thankful was another crash sounded from down the stairs, causing the two of them to jump back from each other in surprise.

They shared a confused look between them before looking in the direction of the staircase. Anthony cleared his throat and caught her attention, his stern demeanour reclaiming him once more as he gestured to the book in her hands.

"On second thoughts, perhaps you should keep Lord Byron with you."