The Bridgertons were no strangers to attention, but tonight at the Danbury soirée, something feels… different. Heavy. Tense. You notice it before anyone else—the way Lady Bridgerton stiffens, the way Anthony’s jaw flexes, the way Daphne keeps her eyes on the floor instead of greeting guests.

You approach her quietly. “Daphne… what’s happened?”

She forces a polite smile, but her hands twist around her fan. “It is nothing. Merely society being society.”

“That’s never ‘nothing.’ Tell me.”

She hesitates—then steps closer, lowering her voice.

“Lord Wetherby has spread a rumor,” she whispers. “He implies the Bridgertons have mishandled a financial agreement with his family. He expects Father to beg for forgiveness.”

You frown. Lord Wetherby—an ambitious, arrogant noble who collects influence like trophies. “What agreement?”

“There was none!” Daphne’s eyes flash with indignation. “He simply wants power over our name. He threatened that if I do not entertain his courting… the rumor will grow.”

You feel your stomach twist. “He’s blackmailing you.”

She nods subtly, breath trembling. “I cannot let my family be humiliated. But I cannot allow him to think I am his pawn, either.”

You place a hand on her arm. “You won’t face this alone.”

Before she can protest, you head toward Lord Wetherby, who is already holding court with a group of young nobles. He smirks as you approach.

“Ah,” he says smugly, “come to defend your little friend? The Bridgertons do tend to need rescuing.”

You keep your voice calm. “Actually, I came to warn you.”

He raises a brow. “Warn me?”

You lean in just slightly. “You’re spreading a false rumor. Dangerous, considering I happen to know the truth about your father’s recent negotiations with Lord Berwick.”

His smirk falters.

You continue softly, so only he hears: “Your family requested a loan. Desperate circumstances, wasn’t it? If such information were to reach the wrong ears—Lady Whistledown’s ears—you would lose far more than your dignity.”

He stiffens. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“You threatened Daphne Bridgerton,” you reply evenly. “Yes. I would dare.”

He opens his mouth—but nothing comes out. He turns pale. You give him one final look.

“End the rumor. Tonight.”

You walk back to Daphne, your heartbeat finally steadying.

“Did you just—?” she begins.

“Yes,” you say simply, “and he won’t be bothering you again.”

Anthony strides by a moment later, whispering, “Wetherby suddenly left. Looked like he’d swallowed a lemon.” He shoots you a curious glance. “Had anything to do with you?”

You shrug. “Pure coincidence.”

Anthony chuckles and moves on.

Daphne, however, watches you with something softer—something far more vulnerable.

“You protected my family,” she murmurs. “Not with swords or scandals… just with courage.”

You smile. “I’d do much more than that for you.”

She looks down briefly, cheeks warming. When she looks back up, her voice is quiet but full of feeling.

“You make me feel… safe. In a world where safety is rarely offered freely.”

You offer your hand. “Shall we enjoy the rest of the evening?”

She slips her hand into yours—lightly, secretly, but willingly.

“Yes,” she says, relief and admiration blending in her eyes. “With you, I believe I finally can.”