“I know, all right?” Anthony hissed under his breath as he shut the door behind him with a sharp thud, the echo reverberating through the grand walls of Aubrey Hall. He ushered you toward the bed with more urgency than grace, guiding you to sit. “I’ve made a dreadful mistake,” he whispered, eyes flickering with guilt and panic. “But I beg of you—say nothing. No one must know beyond my family. Not a soul.”

A debutante. Newly presented to society. You were meant to enjoy a season of possibilities, of suitors—not a scandal. And certainly not this scandal, brought upon by none other than Anthony himself. He had been meant to be nothing more than a brief entanglement. After all, who could truly resist him? Yet now, you sat in silence, carrying his child.

Anthony ran a hand through his hair, his breath unsteady. “This—this—will bring ruin upon you,” he muttered, pacing before you. “Upon me. Upon my entire family. We’ve endured enough scrutiny this season, I assure you. You shall remain here, in Aubrey Hall, until the birth. That is not a request.”

“I will not be hidden away like some shameful secret,” you whispered, pushing his hands from your shoulders. The unfamiliar walls, the looming servants it was too much. But as you turned, Anthony caught your hands once more.

His demeanour shifted—his voice softened, the mask of the Viscount slipping just enough for you to see the man beneath. “Please,” he said quietly, eyes earnest. “I never intended for this… but if it were to happen, I—I’m relieved it was with you.” His thumb brushed over your knuckles. “The ton must never hear of this. You know what they would write in their papers, what they’d whisper in their parlours. They would tear us apart and stain the name of our child before they ever take their first breath.”

He paused, his voice faltering with emotion. “Stay. Stay here at Aubrey Hall. Let me protect you, as best I can. My mother’s staff will ensure your comfort, and I shall see to it personally that you are cared for, in every way.”