If you were to ask anyone in the ton about the Lady with a Fan, even an errand boy could give you an answer. That's the name Anastasia Bridgerton had built for herself to protect her family after their father's passing. As the oldest sister and twin...
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The wind danced through the sky, intertwining with beams of warm sunlight as they curled around the two figures. Nicholas sat leaning against the tree, hand propped upon one knee as he gave way for his wife. Anastasia had settled between his legs, hugging her knees to her body as she leaned into his chest. Her curled lashes gently fluttered shut, and she tilted her chin to bask in the warmth of day. It had been ages since the sun had peeked through the clouds of the manor, yet with Nicholas' presence, every gloomy corner of the Bungalow had sprung to life.
It was almost magical, in a way.
For the past two weeks, the couple had spent almost every waking moment in the other's presence. The prying eyes of society and its unbelievably rigid rules had been long left behind in Mayfair, allowing the two some time to truly bask in the other's comfort.
Mornings were spent strolling through the maze of flowers, hands intertwined as they whispered and giggled like adolescents in love. When dusk settled across the sky, they would occasionally sit to paint, which usually ended in an unfortunate competition bred from pride, and poor Adele would be forced to provide a verdict on the better painting. Of course, the maid had better things to do around the house (being the only servant present) so she would simply smile and convey that both paintings were equally in need of some touching-up, which Anastasia (having spent so much time with her maid) knew to translate to 'you-are-both-equally-terrible'. She did not blame the girl for her distaste. After all, Adele's paintings were of a much higher calibre.
Some days were spent exploring new hobbies. The couple had once tried their hand at cooking on a particularly dull day. The event had come to an end when the stove erupted into a block of smoke and an emergency fire that had to be extinguished by a very exhausted Adele. They have been banned from the vicinity ever since.
When the moon rolled into view, the two would cuddle in bed, tangled under the sheet as they read some cheesy fairytales from the bungalow's narrow assortment of books, laughing and joking as they acted out the most cliche moments in a particularly exaggerated manner. There were also times when they would simply hold each other, perhaps talking about everything, perhaps nothing at all, merely soaking up the other's warm company until the sun rose on the horizon. Never had a moment gone by where the days felt dull. Living together felt natural, familiar even, as if they had done it a hundred times before and could do it a hundred times more.
Anastasia wouldn't mind it either way, as long as it was with him.
Today had begun like any other day, with warm cuddles and joyful laughter, as the two danced around the house in bliss. Anastasia sat between his legs in the grass, playing with the palm of his hand as she stared at the sky absent-mindedly. After all, no matter how normal they tried to make the day seem, they just couldn't. Today was the day the carriage would arrive. Today was the day she returned home.
