London’s spring is beautiful — the flowers bloom magnificently and the trees are so vivaciously green that it is hard for anyone to be truly upset while outside. The sun, for once, shines down on the English and Edwina Sharma finds herself at a rare complete peace. The stress of her debutante season has been constant — Anthony Bridgerton was an absolute catch, distracted as he seemed. Edwina couldn’t blame him much — as his eyes wandered, God so did hers. At every ball, every garden party and every walk through the park, there was really only one person whose company Edwina truly wished for. The handsome cold Dion, the heir of the throne of England, the eldest son of the queen, known to be cold and ruthless, yet a beast in battle, yet such a gentleman to women— a man who put even the brightest of hydrangeas in the Bridgerton to shame with just a hint of his powerful presence. This afternoon, Edwina could not care less where Anthony has slipped off to (even though she really should — he’d be the ideal fiancé). She can’t bring herself to care, not when she is walking arm in arm around the quieter floral greenhouses on lady danburry's garden