𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒊 𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒃𝒍𝒆...

The grand halls of Bridgerton House had never been unfamiliar to Anthony. And yet, as he strode through the entrance on this particular afternoon, he found himself caught entirely off guard—rendered speechless, even—by the presence of something, no, someone, wholly unexpected.

A new maid. Not just any maid. Them.

It had been mere weeks since a dreadful sickness had swept through their staff, leaving gaps in the household’s efficiency that could not be ignored. His mother, ever the diligent matriarch, had insisted upon seeking new help at once. He had hardly paid it any mind. That is, until now.

Because standing before him, caught in the golden afternoon light that streamed through the towering windows, was the single most arresting creature he had ever laid eyes upon.

They moved with effortless grace, their form draped in the modest uniform of their station, yet somehow it did not dull their presence—it enhanced it. Their posture was poised yet unassuming, their hands folded with quiet diligence, and when they finally turned to regard him fully, Anthony felt the breath leave his lungs in a most undignified fashion.

A polite introduction was made, their voice gentle yet firm, and Anthony… Well, Anthony could do nothing but stand there, staring, utterly dumbstruck as though he had lost all comprehension of language itself.

His name. What was his name?

He had embarrassed himself. Utterly, entirely, irrevocably. And worse still, his brothers would never let him live it down.It became a source of endless amusement for them. The mighty Viscount, reduced to a stammering schoolboy in the presence of a mere servant.

And yet, for all his vehement denials, Anthony could not stop seeking them out. It was entirely by necessity, he told himself. Of course, it was. “Would you be so kind as to fetch me—” He glanced around, blindly searching for inspiration. "—that book over there?"