Only Hope | Anthony Bridgeton

Powerless

There will forever be just two words that come to this author's mind the morning after any good party, "shock and delight". Well, dear reader, the scandalous accounts from last night's soirée at Vauxhall are quite shocking and delightful indeed. Emerging, Phoenix like, from the ashes of irrelevance is one Miss Daphne Bridgerton. The illustrious debutante was seen dancing no once, but twice with the season's most eligible and most uncatchable rake, the Duke of Hastings.

Abigail read Lady Whistledown's words as she rode in her carriage to Bridgerton house. She smiled, having not attended last night's ball due to family matters, she enjoyed reading of Daphne's triumph. She deserves it, and was happy her friend found not only someone high of rank, but someone who seemed to want her for her. 

Although, she must confess, Abigail was rather shocked indeed to see the line of suitors exiting the doorway of Bridgerton house. She would have expected the announcement of the Duke's intrigue to be enough for Daphne and her family. Yet, of course, she should have expected that men would be here. For men always seem to want what they cannot have. Although, this did leave her to wonder why they all seemed to be leaving at once. 

Rolling her eyes slightly and laughing a bit in Olivia's direction, she reached for the side of the carriage as a footman opened the door and extended his hand for her support. She smiled as a thank you and walked forward towards the double doors. She could practically feel the gentlemen caller's eyes on her. Smirking, but keeping her head held high, she walked up the steps, not sparing them a glance. In part, because she had a task at hand and also in part, because she knew that would intrigue them more. 

Chuckling to herself she nodded as Olivia headed off to the kitchen and the housekeeper began to show her up the stairs. She was on the landing when the eldest Bridgerton practically plowed past her, knocking her off balance slightly. 

"Oh!" She let out as she reached for the railing but caught Mr. Bridgerton's arm instead. 

"Oh, my apologies." He said as he managed to catch her, completely distracted from his anger before. "I did not expect to see you here." Realizing his hands had lingered on either arm he awkwardly pulled them back down to his sides. 

She laughed rather awkwardly and said, "Um, it's quite alright. I just um, came to see your mother and sister." 

Remembering the conversation, or rather the argument, he had just left with them, his face twisted back into one of annoyance and settled at a frown. 

"You're quite peeved about something." She observed, arching her brow. 

"Well according to many, I always am." He laughed it off. 

She needn't be worried with his family drama. He knew her hands were already full with her own. It was then he noticed the small cut that grazed her left cheek. 

"What happened there?" He questioned, his hand beginning to lift upwards toward it, but he stopped himself and let it drop back at his side. 

It's almost as if everything seemed natural with her, and he had to stop himself from doing what felt so right under the context of polite society.

"Um. That... is quite a long story."

(The Night of the Dinner)

Her carriage door opened and she used the footman's hand to balance herself as she quickly stepped down and out, towards her front doors. As she approached the steps, the doors flung open and her housekeeper exited them, rushing towards her.

"Oh Miss thank you for coming! I'm ever so sorry to pull you away from dinner."

"It's fine Mrs. Whiler, now what exactly is the problem? The note said something about father." Abigail questioned for an explanation as the housekeeper helped her with her cloak.