Bridgerton [x Reader]

☞Distraction

A/N: Highlighted text is my prompt!

Night passed by in a whirl of dreams you don't remember anymore, and the morning rose, bringing some sense back to you. You lied on the best bed, so big, so warm and so comfortable. You borrow deeper into the pillow, inhaling the sweet scent and sighing in content.

There's a big, heavy, bare arm thrown over you and draped over your chest. A solid block of muscle is what keeps your back warm, as it nests behind you, not even an inch away from your body.

There is pure bliss at the moment, something so intimate as resting with your husband on a calm morning like this one.

Calm.

That wasn't a word you would've used to describe your last few mornings.

Your brain buzzed with subtle alarms of waking, threatening to rouse you from sleep with its ways. Just as your eyes opened barely, a muscled leg slipped between your thighs, hooking around one of your legs. The arm that was securely draped over your chest moves further to your stomach, pulling you into the hard body. You felt yourself relax once your husband's warm breathing fans your neck. Anthony pressed his face further into your hair.

Why is this morning so calm?

There is a knock on the door of your bedchamber, a soft call for the Lady of the house heard behind it.

"My Lady, the modiste is here."

Why would the modiste be at your home, so early in the morning?

"My Lady?"

Too tired and worn out, the words from the other end of the door went through one ear and came out the other.

"My Lady," the voice began again, this time louder. "Lady Bridgerton is here too."

Like a switch flipped in your mind, your eyes widened in alarm.

The ball!

The event of the Season, as Lady Whistledown announced in her column. The last month flashed before your eyes; hiring musicians, sending out invitations, spending a fortune on candles and making sure the supper was provided. It all gave you a headache, your mother and Lady Bridgeton dotting over you to make sure all was perfect...

There was no point in trying to wiggle out without waking Anthony, as the matters that required your attention were far more of importance than making sure you slipped out of bed without bringing your husband out of his deep slumber.

You were buck naked when you fought the battle of sheets, won and thus clambered out of bed safely. That fact alone had your eyes widening when the door was slowly being pushed open. "N-no!"

The door closed immediately, "Forgive me, my Lady! A-are you decent?"

Your eyes frantically searched the room for some coverage, before glancing behind at Anthony whose manly assets were on full display for the world to see. He could be seen rousing from sleep, his brows bunching together in sleepy wonder, but you went ahead to cover him anyways.

You threw the silky sheet over his manhood, not dropping to kiss him as a goodbye before you trashed around the room for your fallen chemise.

Eventually you did find her.

Ripped where I shouldn't have been. The left shoulder had been ripped of, last night having been a night full of adultery. The kind that was meant for the four walls of your bedchamber and your bedchamber only.

Your poor maid shouldn't see your activities turned it into.

There was no use of the chemise, you realized, and threw it back on the floor promptly.

"My Lady?"

Stopping in the middle of the room was your reaction, though you came back to yourself fairly quickly, sneaking to the door and opening it just enough to peek through. Shifting from one bare foot to another, you found yourself impatiently looking at your maid.

She gave you an apologetic smile, followed by a curtsy immediately. "No time for such formalities. Listen closely-"

Your maid nodded eagerly, "-show Lady Bridgerton to the drawing room. I'll send Anthony for her, and I will see for the modiste."

"You... You want me to d-distract Lady Bridgerton?"

You impatiently inhaled, glancing at your sleeping husband. "You shall not do such a thing! See that she is comfortable until Anthony arrives."

"What about the modiste?"

"I shall see her!" You exclaimed, your whisper increasing after feeling as if you had repeated that fifty times to each of her two ears. The last few days of pressure had been eating away your sanity, the end of your bubbled stress had received your poor maid. "Forgive me, I have been under immerse stress lately."

Her eyes widened, as she shook her head. "My lady, you should not apologize. I too, would, er, act as you were I in your shoes."

You deemed to cut the conversation short, seeing as you were hiding your bare body by a mere door, and so you nodded in understanding. "You know what you must do. Off you go now."

She nodded in understanding, though she didn't leave immediately. You watched as she bit her lip, chewing her anxiously, making you wonder why she has yet to leave.

Then you remembered. "I will not be needing your help today with dressing. My husband shall assist me."

That seemed to fix the debate in her head to an end, as she curtsied again, dashing away to finally tend to your mother-in-law with a clear mind.

But your mind was anything but clear, "Anthony!"

The viscount was now wide awake, smirking handsomely as he supported himself on his muscled arm. The top half of him is completely bare, showing off his toned chest and taut abs. The only part of him that seemed to be covered was his manhood, though you were sure that was going to be revealed too, were you to stare at it for a moment longer.

Blushing, you ducked and made a dash to the dresser, pulling out a chemise and a stay.

"Good god woman," muttered Anthony with a scowl, looking as if someone had taken away his favorite toy. "What is the matter with you?!"

You threw the stay on the bed, having successfully slipped into the thin material of your white chemise. "Help me with this."

His head dramatically fell back on the pillow, "What are you doing? Come back to bed."

You skipped to his side, grabbed his arm and pulled as hardly as you could. "Do you not remember? We are to hold a ball in three days from now!"

"So what?" Anthony mused, grabbing your waist with his free hand.

You yelped as you met his chest, bracing yourself with your palms. "Are you mad?!"

"No," he stated simply. "I am in love."