Mad

Anthony

Anthony was in his study, his head bent over his ledgers, when he heard a soft knock on the door.

"Enter," he called.

Their butler Humboldt entered, pausing at the door. "My apologies, my lord, but you have a visitor sir. A Mr. Michael Stirling. Shall I bring him in sir?"

'What could Michael Stirling want?' thought Anthony. "Yes Humboldt, please bring him in."

Humboldt then escorted Mr. Stirling into the study where he bowed to Anthony. "Viscount Bridgerton," he greeted.

"Mr. Stirling, please have a seat," said Anthony as he motioned to the chair that was in front of his desk. "May I offer you a drink?"

"No thank you my lord."

"Do you mind if I make one for myself then? I have been working on these ledgers all morning and have quite the headache," asked Anthony.

"Not at all my lord," replied Michael.

Anthony walked over to the side bar and poured himself two fingers of brandy into a small glass and walked back to his desk to sit where he warily eyed Michael Stirling. "What can I do for you today?"

Michael paused before saying his next words. "I would like to talk about Penelope Featherington."

Anthony felt himself tense and he took a large sip of brandy before replying to Michael. "What about Miss Featherington?" said Michael aware of the emphasis that he put on Miss. 'How dare he address Penelope so informally!' thought Anthony. 'He had not even known her for a week!'

"I sensed when I was promenading with Miss Featherington yesterday, that yourself, Benedict and perhaps even the Duke of Hastings had a problem with that. I wish to know why."

Anthony chuckled darkly as he twirled his glass in his hand. "Miss Featherington is and has been a dear friend to the Bridgerton family for a long time. Practically the entire Bridgerton brood considers her to be like another sister. We simply wish the best for her."

Anthony watched as the irritation flickered over Michael's face but quickly disappeared into an indifferent façade. "And what may I ask is that supposed to mean my lord," inquired Michael testily.

"Oh, come off it man," said Anthony. "You are one of if the not the biggest rakes in England. You are known as the merry rake! Do you really think that we would let someone like Penelope enter into a courtship with a man of your sordid reputation?"

"I do not like being referred to as the Merry Rake," spat Michael.

"Has the moniker not been earned Mr. Stirling? Or have the numbers of your conquests been exaggerated?" inquired Anthony.

When Michael did not reply, Anthony's response was once again to laugh. "You are not good enough to court or marry Miss Featherington, if that was your intention."

"I have slept with a great deal of women. Barmaids, whores, widows, married ladies but it has all been consensual. You make it sound like I am forcing myself on women and that could not be further from the truth. And I would never sleep with a single gently bred lady. The women I sleep with all understand that I have no interest in courtship or marriage."

"And you have suddenly developed an interest in Penelope Featherington of all people Stirling?" cried Anthony before slamming his glass down on his desk.

"Yes, and what do you mean of all people? What is wrong with Penelope? For someone who says that they are her friend and care for her wellbeing, you all act as if she is some social pariah. Why does Penelope not deserve to be courted, to be loved? When I saw her at the ball, it was as if I was seeing an angel. She is beautiful and I do not understand why none of you see it. After calling on her and promenading with her at the park, I have come to realize that not only is she beautiful but kind, witty and intelligent. I would marry her my lord. I would take her away from her horrible family. I would be loyal to her, make her the mother of my children. I would think that of all people you and your family would be happy for her."