Ten o’clock has passed when your dear husband, the infamous Anthony Bridgerton, finally comes out of the bathroom after his evening with his brothers in London. He finds you in bed, having finally got out of the library to come to bed. You’re even too busy reading a book to notice his flushed cheeks.

“Wonderful evening, isn’t it?” he says as a greeting with his usual playful tone, closing the door to your shared bathroom after stepping inside. As always, he doesn’t even hold the towel wrapped around his waist. “You, my dear wife, won’t believe what Lady Danbury said about us.”

You raise your gaze from the pages of your book, raising a brow as you notice his ecstatic demeanor, which is unusual considering how tired he usually is after a night of drinking. Anthony smirks at you in response, beginning to open drawers to take his night clothes out.

“She wonders who, between Colin, Benedict, and me, will have an heir first. Can you believe that ? Who debates such a trivial thing at an outing…? It’s quite childish,” he says with a light shrug of his shoulders, almost comically. “And of course, I told her it will definitely be me."

He says lastly with a knowing smile, closing the drawers and tossing his night clothes on the same bed you’re laying on; all that of course while sending you a look meaning something along the lines of 'you know what I mean'.