A night at the opera— oh, what a splendid way of partaking in society without being forced to dance around with mindless gentlemen who's most interesting words were the hushed apologies for stepping on one's toes!

Dear God, anything was better than that. Certainly much better, especially for one of the Bridgerton ladies— Francesca Bridgerton wanted nothing to do with crowds if she could help it, and even a silent crowd such as the one in the opera house seemed too loud for her to bear. If not because of actual whispered gossip, because of the stairs she had been putting up with since her and her family had arrived.

“I need a moment.”

Francesca said, quietly, to Anthony, who gave her a reassuring smile and the go-ahead to escape from the riveting display of the aria.

Her mind was loud as she strode along the corridor, and by the time she was out of the spiralling thoughts, she had stumbled and collided against another woman.

“I am deeply sorry, I was not looking where I was going—” Francesca rushed to form an apology, feeling dreadfully sorry for almost making someone fall because of her nerves.