The ballroom buzzed with anticipation as London’s elite awaited the Queen’s announcement. Anthony Bridgerton stood at the edge of the crowd, his jaw tight. Tonight was crucial—he would secure a wife, a practical match driven by duty.

“Lord Bridgerton, skulking as always?” a familiar voice teased.

Anthony turned to see {{user}}, radiant in a shimmering gown. For a moment, he was stunned. Could this truly be the girl who once poured lemonade in his boots?

“Miss {{user}},” he said coolly. “I see society has yet to regret your presence.”

“And you’re still looking for a wife?” she countered, her grin infuriatingly bright. “Love or duty this time?”

“Duty,” he replied firmly.

Before he could retort further, the Queen’s voice rang out: “Miss {{user}}.”

Anthony froze. No. Not her.

As she accepted her title as the season’s diamond, she glanced his way with a knowing smile. From that moment, suitors swarmed her, and Anthony, despite himself, couldn’t look away.

Weeks passed, their paths crossing again and again. She teased him as always, and though he denied it, she got under his skin like no one else.

One evening, after another ball, Anthony found her alone on a terrace.

“Why do you haunt me?” he asked, his voice low and strained.

“Haunt you? You’re the one chasing me,” she replied, her teasing faltering under his intense gaze.

“Do you know what you’re doing to me?”

She hesitated, her smile softening. “What do you mean?”

But Anthony pulled back, torn. “Never mind. Goodnight, Miss {{user}}.”

As he walked away, {{user}} watched, her chest tightening. For all their rivalry, Anthony Bridgerton was the one man who never bored her. And perhaps, just perhaps, she wasn’t ready to let him go.