ONCE UPON A DREAM I SIMON BASSET

Born To Be A Pawn

Born To Be A Pawn

“Anthony.”

Viscount Bridgerton froze, his cup suspended in mid-air, being just about to enjoy his morning beverage of hot tea and fresh cream. His mother stood in the doorway to the drawing room, her fine features arrayed in forbidding lines. “Mother,” he acknowledged, swallowing hard.

“We must discuss something of great import, Anthony,” Violet Bridgerton said, stepping forwards with her hands folded in front of her, the maid closing the door quietly behind her.

“Just now?” Anthony asked, reluctantly setting down his cup.

“Yes, just now.”

Anthony fixed an amiable smile on his face as he frantically cast his mind around, trying to find a reason for this uncharacteristic interruption. It couldn’t be to do with Daphne’s debut. That had been a veritable triumph. Was it over Eloise? Had she read an unsuitable book that had somehow slipped past his censorship? Or was it about Colin’s burgeoning desire to embark on a Grand Tour? But his mother’s frown suggested it was something beyond books and bon voyages. God, it couldn’t be about him taking a wife, could it? He had no desire to marry, not when his entire being was consumed by a woman he could never openly pay his addresses to, but he knew he would have to marry at some point to secure the succession. But until then, he sought to delay that dark day for as long as possible. He had no time or energy to dedicate to the pursuit of marital perfection, and perfection it had to be, or else there would be no point.

“Are your teeth paining you, Anthony?” Violet queried, taking the seat opposite him.

“No, not at all,” Anthony said hurriedly, immediately relaxing his rictus grin.

Violet looked at him for a long moment, eyebrows raised. “I wish to speak with you regarding Beatrice,” she then said, wringing her hands, her statement startling Anthony. “Her future prospects have been a matter we have been most remiss upon.”

Anthony shook his head, wrongfooted. “Mother, please,” he then protested, holding up his hand. “Beatrice’s future is assured in all respects, whether single or married. She has been amply provided for” –

- “My fears lie elsewhere, Anthony,” Violet interrupted, “I know you have made the most generous provision for her, as you have for all your sisters. But she should have been married long ere since, especially with Daphne’s debut now upon us. She has not had the opportunity to seek her own happiness. For too long we have indulged her desire to not go abroad in society.”

“But Beatrice has shown no interest in marrying,” Anthony said slowly, choosing his words carefully, “and I am most loathe to go against her wishes.” After all, seeing one sister safely and successfully matched was more than enough for the moment, never mind taking on another, especially a sister who was so enthusiastically resigned to spinsterhood.

“She does not know her own mind though.”

“Beatrice is hardly a green girl, Mother,” Anthony pointed out, his dark gaze lingering longingly to his cup of cooling tea.

“Anthony, please,” Violet said quietly, startling him again. “This has been preying so much on my mind as of late. Beatrice has retreated from the world because of one moment of gaucherie and we have just let her, instead of urging her onwards as Eloise tries to do.”

Anthony saw his mother was in earnest, her blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “What do you propose we do then, Mother?” he then said quietly, leaning back in his chair, resigning himself to the inevitable. “Beatrice is sure to object to anything unfamiliar.”

“Well, we must be sure as not to make any swift movements, then,” Violet said, spreading her hands wide. “Just gently ease her into society; encourage her to engage in light conversation. Introduce her to some of your more suitable friends – somebody who is sensible and of easy temper. Surely it cannot be that difficult to widen her horizons so?”

Anthony merely nodded his agreement, before abruptly rising to his feet, his thoughts moving at a rapid pace as to how to extricate himself from this predicament so unexpectedly placed upon him. But he could not afford to be careless when it came to taking care of his sisters. The only sensible solution he could countenance was to consult his rather limited list of eligible gentlemen he had culled in advance of Daphne’s debut and study which one would be suitable for Beatrice, leaving the rest for Daphne to decide upon during the course of the season. As for Beatrice, when both parties were in accord over the arrangement, the couple could skip the formalities and head straight for the altar. It seemed the most sensible outcome for all, especially since Beatrice was no longer in the first flush of youth, although still comely enough with a respectable dowry and being of good family.

At this thought, he bowed to Violet before sweeping out of the drawing room, leaving his mother staring after him with wide eyes. A quiet wedding would be just the thing to suit Beatrice he firmly believed. What more could she desire than the prospect of a fine establishment to call her own and a wealthy husband of fine moral standing and manners. Perhaps an older gentleman but in the prime of life still. A widower? Someone with a country estate at least where good hunting was to be had. He mused at length on the subject, flattering himself on his foresight and good taste, not realising he was selecting a suitor more suitable for himself than his sister.

I laid the groundwork

Just like clockwork

The dominoes cascaded in a line…