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

Chapter 19

Betrothed

Buckingham House, London

The Queen Mother of Württemberg stood in the center of her chambers, her reflection staring back at her from the ornate mirror. Her gown, a shimmering cascade of ivory and gold, fit her perfectly, radiating a sense of regality and grace. Moira and Lauren moved around her like a well-rehearsed symphony, delicately adjusting the folds of her dress, fastening her jewelry, and adding the final touches to her elegantly braided hair. Despite the calm air of preparation, her thoughts were a whirlwind.

Today was the day she would face her mother, the Queen, and give her final answer—a decision that had always been clear in her heart.

Her hands trembled slightly, not from fear but from anticipation. The future ahead was uncertain and daunting, yet she felt ready. Ready to stand her ground, to declare her choice, and to embrace what was to come. She exhaled softly, steadying herself.

A knock interrupted her thoughts.

"Who is it?" She called, her voice firm yet curious.

The door opened to reveal none other than the Viscount himself. He stepped inside with his usual charm, his hands clasped behind his back and his head bowing slightly in respect.

"Someone utterly undeserving of your love and affection," he teased with a wry smile. "Your Majesty."

"Lord Bridgerton," she greeted warmly, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. "Though I must disagree with your statement—something we'll discuss later. For now, I'm far more curious about what brings you here."

Moira and Lauren exchanged knowing glances, curtsied, and quickly exited, leaving the two alone. Anthony's expression softened as he stepped closer.

"Yesterday, you mentioned your audience with the Queen," he began gently. "And I wanted to be here, to support you, whatever your answer may be."

"I think you already know my answer, my lord," Charlotte's heart swelled at his sincerity. She took a step forward, her gown brushing against the floor.

"My lord. Lord Bridgerton," he mused, shaking his head with an affectionate smirk, closing the gap between them. "When will the day come that you call me something else?"

"I'm not always so formal with you. I've called you by your name before, Anthony," she tilted her head, amusement dancing in her eyes. Until, a thought dawned on her, and she raised an eyebrow. "Unless..."

"Unless...?" He echoed, stepping closer.

"Unless you would rather be called something else," she murmured, her voice teasing, her lips now mere inches from his. "Anthony..."

"Yes?" He whispered, his breath mingling with hers.

Then, she leaned in and kissed him briefly, her lips brushing his in a fleeting but powerful gesture. Anthony groaned softly at the touch, his restraint crumbling as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush against him. Charlotte's arms found their way around his neck as she allowed herself to melt into his embrace. For a moment, they stayed like that, their foreheads touching, their noses grazing, their eyes locked in a playful yet intimate challenge.

"You are my Anthony," she said softly, her voice as sweet as a melody.

"Yours," he groaned again, leaning closer. "Completely yours."

"My Anthony. My love. Mine," she teased, her grin widening.

"All yours," he replied before kissing her deeply. Charlotte giggled against his lips, her joy bubbling over.