[2] The Queen Mother of Württemberg | A. Bridgerton

Chapter 18

Worth The Sacrifice

Bridgerton House, London

The morning sunlight streamed through the windows of Anthony Bridgerton's bedroom, filling the space with a golden warmth that matched the uncontainable joy in his chest. He lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, unable to wipe the grin off his face. She had said yes. Charlotte had agreed to marry him. The memory of her saying she loved him, of him finally confessing his love for her, played on repeat in his mind. They loved each other, truly and deeply, and nothing else seemed to matter.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt truly at peace. Anthony exhaled a deep breath, running a hand through his hair as he sat up in bed. He was so happy he could scream—or better yet, shout it from the rooftops for all of London to hear. But for now, he would settle for getting dressed and heading to share breakfast with his family.

As he readied himself for the day, his happiness bubbled over into every small task. He hummed to himself while buttoning his waistcoat, his fingers light and steady. When he tied his cravat, the knot practically formed itself, as if the universe was conspiring to keep his spirits high. And when he slipped on his coat, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and actually chuckled. He looked ridiculous—positively giddy. But he didn't care. How could he when he was the luckiest man alive?

By the time he walked out of his bedroom, the tantalizing aroma of breakfast wafted up from the drawing room. His siblings' familiar voices carried through the open doorway, their usual morning banter filling the space. He paused for a moment outside the room, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. This was his family, his home, and soon—sooner than he could have ever imagined—he would bring Charlotte into it.

He walked into the drawing room with a smile that could rival the sun. His steps were light, his heart soaring, as if he were walking on air. But the scene inside brought him to a sudden, quiet realization: no one knew.

The room was as it always was—his family busy chatting, debating, teasing one another. Eloise was animatedly arguing with Colin about some book she'd been reading, while Gregory and Hyacinth squabbled over who got the last scone. Benedict, leaning back in his chair, sitting in front of a chessboard while Francesca played the pianoforte.

Not one of them glanced up to notice him, their eldest brother, standing there with a secret so monumental it felt like it might burst from him at any moment. For a brief second, he imagined himself interrupting their conversation, standing on the table and declaring, "I'm engaged to Charlotte! Charlotte loves me!" He could picture their shocked faces, the laughter, the chaos that would surely follow.

But instead, Anthony took a deep breath, forcing himself to reign in his excitement. This wasn't the time—not yet. His engagement to Charlotte was something they would all find out soon enough, but for now, it was a precious secret that belonged only to him and her.

Still, as he moved to take his seat, he couldn't suppress the grin tugging at his lips.

"Good morning, Anthony," Violet greeted, arching a brow at his unusually cheery expression.

"Morning," he replied, unable to keep the happiness out of his voice.

"Someone's in an awfully good mood," Benedict quipped, a teasing lilt to his tone.

"Am I?" Anthony asked innocently, his smile widening as he reached for a cup of tea. "I hadn't noticed."

"You're practically glowing," Colin snorted. "Did you win some secret duel at dawn or something?"

"No duels," Anthony chuckled, shaking his head. "Just...a good night's rest."

"A good night's rest?" Eloise scoffed. "What happened? Did you dream you conquered France or something?"