ₚᵣᵢᵥₐₜₑ 𝒹ₑₜₑ𝒸ₜᵢᵥₑ |ᴬⁿᵗʰᵒⁿʸ ᴮʳᶦᵈᵍᵉʳᵗᵒⁿ

• 𝖿᥆ᥙr𝗍ᥱᥱᥒ •

ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴅᴀʏ

"No, I'm not going to hide in the closet!"

Anthony scowled at her, throwing worried glances towards the door before continuing his panicked whispering.

"What do you mean you won't? Do you want my mother to catch us?"

"Catch us doing what?" Enola crossed her arms stoically. "We didn't do anything wrong."

"No, but a man and a woman being alone together can ruin their reputation. How will you ever be able to find a husband if there are rumors I-I did-"

"That you fucked me," Enola scoffed. "Please, I'd choose your mother over you."

Dumbstruck, Anthony stared at her. "You-"

"Anthony," his mother called out again from the hallway. She knocked on his office door. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, mother! Just one moment."

He turned back to her and harshly whispered: "Get into that damned closet, now!"

Enola snorted in disbelief. Was she really going to have to do this?

"Go on!"

Grumbling something under her breath, the Holmes girl finally decided to listen to him just this one time, despite the hangover drilling holes into her brain. Before he closed the door however, she grabbed his arm and stopped him.

"If anyone ever hears about this, I'm going to chop off your head, Bridgerton."

Anthony stared at the door she closed herself, a little intrigued. He had seldom met a girl this vulgar and straightforward, but it felt kind of refreshing.

Still, how did she get into his office?

And what had happened last night? Had they been drinking together? And if so, what did they talk about?

With question marks flying around his head, the man went over to the door and opened it, smiling at his worried mother.

"Oh, you look horrible," Violet Bridgerton observed. She cupped his face with her hands. "Did you get any sleep tonight?" Suddenly, she pulled a face. "This smell, have you been drinking?"

"Mother, is there something you need?"

Violet frowned at her son, very obviously noticing how he was trying to change the topic. After a few seconds, she sighed and decided not to comment on it.

"I came here because you didn't come down for breakfast and weren't in your room."

Her son chewed on his bottom lip, trying to think of an excuse. "Yeah, I-"

"Are you well? Did something happen? The maids told me you returned home late and locked yourself into your office."

He shook his head. "It's nothing, mother. The workload is just a little overwhelming at the moment. I'll join you at lunch. If you would excuse me now."

"Yes, very well-"

The second it seemed she had finished her sentence, Anthony had closed the door. He locked it again and turned to Enola, who came crawling out of her closet.

"It's been a while since I last played hide and seek," she joked, trying to ease the tension in the air.

"You did well, it can't be that long," he retorted, somewhat sarcastic but also thankful they weren't caught.

Enola smiled knowingly. Her last 'game of hide and seek' had indeed been not long before, since she had entered the Featherington house three days ago and got nearly caught by one of the daughters.