He lets out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

She doesn't allow herself to really hope that this will work. 

"Duke Voltur," she begins, "perhaps you could offer some assurance - in truth it is a frightening thing, to find that one's family has drawn the ire of," technically, apparently, Voltur is an Archduke, which they in fact used not to have, "so powerful a man. For myself, I fear the possibility that one of us might offend you again."

He radiates confusion. "I- forgive me, Lady Bridgerton, I fear I must have misunderstood you. Even if I had borne a grudge against the Viscount - even setting aside the kindness many of you have shown me - I would hardly make a man's family suffer for it." He looks honestly rather appalled. "If I even had the opportunity."

...This man is very strange, and knows very little of the noble families, and truly doesn't understand that he is the second most powerful individual in the country. Even a snide word from him could jeopardise her children's prospects-

-should she truly be the one to tell him? Were there not people more suited to such a duty?

“…Do you not understand?” She speaks at last, ignoring one her mother’s looks being shot at her as she opens her mouth. “You already have. Assuming Anthony does not remove you from our home upon his return, which he would be an idiot to do, the fact that your feud with him is so public is enough.”

“What my sister means to say is that– we appreciate you coming here. It’s a start, knowing you don’t actually wish to bring about our ruin,” he states. “We’ll talk to Anthony if he tries anything. And we’ll have to work together to show a united face to the ton, right? Maybe at the next ball.”

“Perhaps the Duke and Eloise could promenade together tomorrow? Anthony and Miss Edwina could go with them–“

“And what, brother, are you saying about me that you cannot simply say to my face?”

He walks in, taking in all the flowers with some confusion, before his eyes land on the Duke. His face hardens instantly.

“You.”

Are you seriously telling me that I am so important that there are going to be people who decide that the best way to suck up to me is to make it IMPOSSIBLE FOR ME TO ARGUE WITH SOMEONE without them proceeding to RUIN THEIR ENTIRE FAMILY, he does not say out loud. 

He turns towards Anthony as soon as he interrupts Colin and assumes parade rest.

It lets him squeeze the bruise on his wrist instead of clenching his fists when the boy glares at him. 

Calm. Focus. He is in control. 

He inclines his head respectfully. 

"Lord Bridgerton. I have come to formally apologise, as I said I would. Your Lady mother kindly let me in - we were discussing how we could possibly repair any harm I may unwittingly have done to your family's standing in the ton."

“Unwittingly?” He questions angrily. “You claim you—”

He sees the look on his family’s faces, and his tongue falters.

The Viscount speaks again after a long moment, after a deep breath, through clenched jaw and fist. His voice is level, now, though it trembles with rage at the edges. 

His father taught him to be a gentleman. A gentleman he will be.

“You will marry my sister.” 

“What?!”

“Anthony–”

“Both of you,” he cuts in, the man of the house, “know better than to pretend that this is not the only possible solution.”

His little sister’s recklessness has condemned not only herself, but the entire Bridgerton name. If His Grace is the man he claims to be, and if Eloise does not wish for a life as a spinster, he will take responsibility.

Why is he the only fucking person who is willing to do what is necessary?

He - what?

He looks immediately at Eloise.

What?

But he only met the woman last week - nobody else knows he was even involved with her - she'll never agree to it - surely it will be more scandalous to marry so swiftly -

Follow through. 

He breathes out. 

He speaks slowly and very carefully. "I do not pretend to understand why you ask this of me. But - if this is truly what you wish - the only solution, as you say - and most of all if El- if Miss Bridgerton herself does not object, then," gods help him he should have demanded immunity from this sort of thing from the Queen, "very well."

He looks down.

“El, you don’t need to do anything you don’t want to do,” he murmurs quietly to her, such that only she can hear.

He looks at his mother urgently, willing her to say something.

Oh dear oh dear oh dear-

-Anthony looks like he could be carven out of stone and Eloise looks like she might cry like when-

-her breath comes a little harder in the winter now, not entirely right since she gave birth to Hyacinth-

-

"Anthony," she falters, "that seems- excessive - nobody outside this room witnessed them together, and there has- has been no, ah, no impropriety-" she swallows, she is not sure why but these days she cannot bring herself to discuss the deed of kind -

Solemnly, Anthony pulls out a pamphlet from his jacket pocket. He hands it to his mother.

Voltur has not been in this society for very long, but even he recognises Whistledown.

Dearest gentle reader, 

This season, it seems, is to be one of rather more excitement than is usual. The Queen's diamond, the rather mysterious - if enchanting - Miss Edwina Sharma, is pursued by a veritable flock of gentlemen, none more eligible than the Viscount Bridgerton. He, however, has drawn a rather less pleasant sort of attention from the newly-created Duke Voltur, a man to whom the eyes of all the ton are drawn as iron to the Lodestone Mountain of Arab legend. Whence the feud between them? 

There had been whispers that the Duke was seen enjoying the more recondite sights of the town in the unchaperoned company of Miss Eloise Bridgerton, a woman known to have scorned the entreaties of many charming gentlemen. Wilder rumours than these circulate, concerning famous blades and mysterious tokens and secret marriages, yet this author does not deal in fiction. What is certainly true is that rumours of a most unusual dalliance will only be strengthened by the Duke's unusual behaviour at the Smythe-Smith ball, where the ordinarily brave, assured, indeed warlike General appeared positively abashed, making his desire to make amends plainer than day.

What else could have spurred such an uncommon reversal? Has the Queen's foremost champion and dragonslayer found himself in turn stricken by the darts of love, drawn into marriage before the circling vultures we call misses and mamas could make their own attempts to ensnare him? 

The season is very young as yet. In due time, the ton may hope to see in my pages the full story laid out - and to see too, of course, a certain very special invitation. 

Eloise has gone pale.

“What? That is… that is…”

“I am sorry.” 

To Anthony’s credit, he does truly seem remorseful.

She closes her mouth. She sits down. 

Eloise, my baby...

He has an enemy, and the enemy is very clever. 

He knows this feeling. 

It's rather clearer, when you put it like that. 

"You may find it difficult to believe, my Lord, but I truly did not imagine that anything like this could have come of what I did. It is clear that your sister is reluctant, for which none could blame her. I truly am that ignorant, yes, so tell me - is there any way that you know of, under any circumstances, that this might be undone? That Whistledown might be discredited, that an explanation somehow more satisfying to the ton could emerge? Resources are... not an obstacle to any plan we might devise."