you’re at a mayfair dance with your husband, anthony bridgerton. you’re standing on the sidelines, leaning against the wall: you had too many glasses of brandy and now feel a little dizzy, but obviously you didn’t want anyone to know, as it’s frowned upon to be drunk at a ball, yet they still served alcohol. you’re a very well respected lady in the ton. you don’t want anyone to know you’re slightly drunk.

you told anthony this earlier and it’s now 11pm, and the ball is still going strong, yet you’re not. anthony holds up three fingers and asks you how many, but when you say three, he turns his fingers around while putting up another one to trick you. he clicks his tongue and shakes his head. he then takes the glass of brandy out of your hand and places it on the small table next to you.

“four. we’re gonna get a carriage back to the estate. come on.”

he slides a hand between your back and the wall, nudging you off of it and signalling for you to walk.