The Viscount Who Loved Me (Bridgertons, #2)(79)

Since he wasn’t going to be able to win the argument with her—and there was little point in contradicting a woman when she was being complimentary—he put a finger to his lips and said, “Shhh. Don’t tell anyone.” And then, with one last kiss to her hand and a murmured, “Adieu,” he made his way out the door and outside.

Once on his horse and on his way back to his small townhouse across town, he allowed himself to assess the visit. It went well, he thought. Kate had seemed to understand the limits he had set upon their marriage, and she’d reacted to his lovemaking with a desire that was sweet and fierce at the same time.

All in all, he thought with a satisfied smile, the future looked bright. His marriage would be a success. As for his previous concerns—well, it was clear he had nothing to worry about.



Kate was worried. Anthony had been practically tripping over himself to make certain that she understood that he would never love her. And he certainly didn’t seem to want her love in return.

Then he’d gone and kissed her as if there were no tomorrow, as if she were the most beautiful woman on earth. She’d be the first to admit that she had little experience with men and their desires, but he’d certainly seemed to desire her.

Or was he simply wishing she was someone else? She was not his first choice for a wife. She’d do well to remember that fact.

And even if she did fall in love with him—well, she’d simply have to keep it to herself. There was really nothing else to do.





Chapter 16




It has come to This Author’s attention that the wedding of Lord Bridgerton and Miss Sheffield is to be a small, intimate, and private affair.

In other words, This Author is not invited.

But have no fear, dear reader, This Author is at her most resourceful at times such as these, and promises to uncover the details of the ceremony, both the interesting and the banal.

The wedding of London’s most eligible bachelor is surely something which must be reported in This Author’s humble column, don’t you agree?

LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 13 MAY 1814



The night before the wedding, Kate was sitting on her bed in her favorite dressing gown, looking dazedly at the multitude of trunks strewn across the floor. Her every belonging was packed away, neatly folded or stored, ready for transport to her new home.

Even Newton had been prepared for the journey. He’d been bathed and dried, a new collar had been affixed to his neck, and his favorite toys were loaded into a small satchel that now sat in the front hall, right next to the delicately carved wooden chest Kate had had since she was a baby. The chest was filled with Kate’s childhood toys and treasures, and she’d found tremendous comfort in their presence here in London. It was silly and sentimental, but to Kate it made her upcoming transition a little less scary. Bringing her things—funny little items that meant nothing to anyone but her—to Anthony’s home made it seem more like it would truly be her home as well.

Mary, who always seemed to understand what Kate needed before she understood it herself, had sent word to friends back in Somerset as soon as Kate had become betrothed, asking them to ship the chest to London in time for the wedding.

Kate stood and wandered about the room, stopping to run her fingers across a nightgown that was folded and laid upon a table, awaiting transfer to the last of her trunks. It was one that Lady Bridgerton—Violet, she had to start thinking of her as Violet—had picked out, modest in cut but sheer in fabric. Kate had been mortified throughout the entire visit to the lingerie maker. This was her betrothed’s mother, after all, selecting items for the wedding night!

As Kate picked up the gown and set it carefully in a trunk, she heard a knock at the door. She called out her greeting, and Edwina poked her head in. She, too, was dressed for bed, her pale hair pulled back into a sloppy bun at the nape of her neck.

“I thought you might like some hot milk,” Edwina said.

Kate smiled gratefully. “That sounds heavenly.”

Edwina reached down and picked up the ceramic mug she’d set on the floor. “Can’t hold two mugs and twist the doorknob at the same time,” she explained with a smile. Once inside, she kicked the door shut and handed one of the mugs to Kate. Eyes trained on Kate, Edwina asked without preamble, “Are you scared?”

Kate took a gingerly sip, checking the temperature before gulping it down. It was hot but not scalding, and it somehow comforted her. She’d been drinking hot milk since childhood, and the taste and feel of it always made her feel warm and secure.

“Not scared precisely,” she finally replied, sitting down on the edge of her bed, “but nervous. Definitely nervous.”

“Well, of course you’re nervous,” Edwina said, her free hand waving animatedly through the air. “Only an idiot wouldn’t be nervous. Your whole life is going to change. Everything! Even your name. You’ll be a married woman. A viscountess. After tomorrow, you will not be the same woman, Kate, and after tomorrow night—”

“That’s enough, Edwina,” Kate interrupted.

“But—”

“You are not doing anything to ease my mind.”

“Oh.” Edwina offered her a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right,” Kate assured her.