First Impressions // A Bridgerton Story

Chapter 6

"     Lady Bridgerton's musicale proved to be a decidedly musical affair (not, This Author assures you, always the norm for these occasions.

The guest performer was none other than Maria Rosso, the Italian soprano who made her debut in London two years ago and has returned after a brief stint on the Vienna stage.

With thick, sable hair and flashing dark eyes, Miss Rosso proved as lovely in form as she did in voice, and more than one (indeed, more than a dozen) of society's so-called gentlemen found it difficult indeed to remove their eyes from her person, even after the performance had concluded.

But that was not the highlight of the night. The moment when Princess Amelia spoke up, decidedly for the first time, to shut down Lady Cowper's suggestions on how she may improve her season and debut was by far the more memorable part of the night.

Whoever marries Lady Cressida Cowper, this Author, know you will have an English Princess as your enemy. "

LADY WHISTLEDOWN'S SOCIETY PAPERS, 27 APRIL 1814

Anthony knew he had to be insane.

There could be no other explanation. He'd meant to scare her, terrify her, make her understand that she could never hope to meddle in his affairs and win, and instead...

Instead, all he could focus on were her astonishingly beautiful eyes. More gray than blue. So large, and full of emotion. They would sparkle when she found something amusing, and then they would storm when she was frustrated or angry.

Intimidation had been his intention, and so he'd moved closer and closer until she, an innocent, could only be cowed by his presence. She wouldn't know what it was like to have a man so near that the heat of his body seeped through her clothes, so close that she couldn't tell where his breath ended and hers began. She wouldn't recognize the first prickles of desire, nor would she understand that slow, swirling heat in the core of her being. And that slow, swirling heat was there.

He could see it in her face. But she, a completely innocent, would never comprehend what he could see with one look of his experienced eyes. All she would know was that he was looming over her, that he was stronger, more powerful, and that she would soon be charmed by him.

It was why he insisted on dancing with her at every ball. He would call on her, but he knew she would reject him, or perhaps make an excuse. She could not make an excuse when he asked in front of dozens of others for her to dance with him.

Something about her was...right.

She felt right. She smelled right. She looked right. And he knew that if he stripped off all of her clothes and took her to his bed, she would fit underneath him, fit around him...just right.

It occurred to Anthony that when she wasn't arguing with him, Princess Amelia Windsor might bloody well be the finest woman in England.

"What did you talk about?", Anthony asked. He and Benedict were in matching chairs, getting their weekly grooming.

"What did I talk about?", Benedict asked, repeating the question, confused.

"What did you and the Princess talk about?", Anthony clarified his question.

"What did I and the Princess talk about", Benedict repeating the question.

"Benedict", Anthony said with an edge to his voice, warning his brother that he was treated in dangerous waters.

Benedict smiled and then immediately stopped when he felt that the blade nicked him a little. The groomer was apologetic but Benedict did not mind.

"We talked about you", Benedict said. Anthony opened his mouth, doubtlessly to ask what about, more specifically, but Benedict continued. "And then we talked to Eloise and Penelope, and then Cressida popped up. Amelia was able to destroy her in less than a minute, and afterward, you whisked her away, making her so angry that she walked away while you watched on like a fool".