The night air was crisp and clear, as you sat submerged in the dense garden hedges, outside of Lady Throwbridge's Ball. A smooth stone bench cool beneath the sweep of your pastel blue gown, the overlay of sheer material shimmering as though the evening's stars that appeared absent from the sky, were merely lost amongst the stitching of your dress itself. Cascading down your legs, until the hem nearly brushed against the neatly tended pathway beneath your satin heels. The softest breath of sky blue disappearing into the darkness of the evening that engulfed your frame, the delicate shade all but forgotten in the dense shadows of the indigo nightfall. If not for the full moon, reflecting a light bolder than the lanterns across the front lawn of the estate, you might've vanished into the abyss without a single trace of your touch left behind.
The hedges felt as though they swallowed you whole, as they hovered with a daunting height over your slightly slouched stance. The deep emerald leaves standing bold against the dark backdrop, while the stunning roses were illuminated by the pure moonlight. Shades of the deepest red you had ever seen, as though the petals themselves had absorbed the blood of those their very thrones had pricked. But in the very same sight, an entirely new and vastly different bush sat beside the red, displaying roses with the palest petals of white. A white as pure as the snow that seemed impossibly far from reality, as the slightly chilled May air encircled you. Dancing across your flesh, blowing gently through your sweeping tendrils of loose curls, and uplifting the most delicate of goosebumps against the surface of your flesh. For summer was not long out of view, as the days grew warmer with each passing week and yet, the evenings remained chilled by the whisper of winter's long lost memory.
The gardens were beautiful, they smelled of a fragrance untouched by the hands of man, a purity that filled your lungs with the aromatic nature that seemed lost in the city streets. Floral notes strong and unashamed of their overpowering tones, and the soft blow of a springtime breeze uprooted the scent of the Earth beneath your feet. The air held not a single hint of humidity and yet, there was an undeniable feel of impending rainfall amongst the moon illuminated clouds above you. It was a breath of fresh air that you had so desperately craved, a yearning in not only your lungs, that had been stifled by the scent of clashing perfumes and delicacies that appeared far from such, but in the depths of your heart as well.
For you felt with each passing second, trapped within those embellished and rather ostentatious walls, that you couldn't breathe. Your lungs never fully expanding into a breath that filled your chest with some slim semblance of relief, and your heart thundered with an anxiety so strong it clutched your chest in the suffocating grasp of a crushing fist. The atmosphere around you felt ten times warmer, stifling and overwhelming, as your mind felt as though your thoughts swam through a raging current. And you knew, without a shadow of a doubt, the reason why.
He looked impeccable, infuriatingly so. Adorned in a navy blue velvet that made him stand out amongst the sea of the ton, Anthony Bridgerton was a sight to behold at any event he attended. With the classic Bridgerton chestnut brown hair, that fell in soft curls against the frame of his forehead, and eyes a shade or two lighter than that, it was a rarity when eyes did not wander in his direction. For the sight of him was simply captivating, an attractive allure that not a single woman could denounce.
He entered the ball with swift steps, keeping in a safe and tight grasp the arm of his dear sister, as his leather boots stomped with purpose across the marbled floors, as his mere presence instantly demanded the attention of those around him. For Anthony Bridgerton commanded any room he entered, even when he said nothing at all, his presence held an unwavering assertiveness. He stood strong with his broad shoulders kept even, as though each step he took hit the ground with a firm conviction, each movement made from the physically fit man intended and righteously self-assured. Anthony emanated every ounce of confidence that he possessed, a slight arrogance radiating from his features as though rays of the once burning sun.
