13. I Detest You

I see, so that's why she didn't tell me she returned to Britain. She and Percy are in hiding…..

Obviously I had to write Jane about everything so far. She was one of my dearest friends and someone I could trust. I wanted to write Mary about my engagement too, but I didn't have a forwarding address for her anymore…. Oh well, we'd get in contact eventually, I'm sure. So I wrote only to Jane this time, and also to Mary Wollstonecraft for advice. Perhaps she knew the location of her daughter, though I was polite enough not to ask.

I was in the middle of penning Jane's letter when there was a knock on my door; I was currently in my room in our estate in London. "Yes?" My pen paused as it opened a crack. One of our manservants brought me in a package wrapped in brown parchment paper. There was no name or address on it except for mine. "This arrived in the mail for you, miss," he handed it to me. Curious, I studied it inquisitively before flashing him a smile. "Thank you." He bowed and took his leave, but not before I bid him a good night. He did the same to me with a low grin. Then I turned back to the mystery package on my desk. "Huh, I wonder who sent this…" Only one way to find out.

Tearing off the parchment, a manuscript- a large stack of white solid papers- appeared underneath. Why, it looked to be some sort of unpublished book. Even more curious now, I inspected it's cover page very carefully. It read a word I'd never heard before: Frankenstein. "What's this? Published anonymously?" That meant one of three things. One, it was written by a woman. Two, it had blasphemous or anti-monarchy content inside. Or three, it was satirical and the writer didn't want to slander their name or reputation. Which one it was soon became evident to me when I saw the little folded note stuck under the brown twine binding the loose pages together.

My eyes lit up, my heart skipped a beat. It's from Mary Shelley! She wrote this book, which hasn't gone to publish yet. The note was brief and said that she and Percy had returned to Britain, which I suspected a couple of years ago, and that this was her thanks to me for my silence back when they eloped. It was her first novel she wrote while still abroad and would be called Frankenstein. She planned to publish it anonymously two years from now with the help of her family connections. Her mother already penned A Vindication of the Rights of Women, and Mr. Shelley was a poet in his own right. And there was always Lord Byron, though he was still in exile too…..

I paused, leaning back in my seat and gazing out the window with Mary's hand-written note still clutched in my fingers. Mary… So much has happened since we were girls. You've gotten married and I'm engaged, and now you've written your first book. My chest swelled with pride for her. I'm so happy for her! She deserves only the best; so does Jane and Charlotte. They're all brilliant writers who deserve to have their works celebrated.

My lips parted a sliver; the twinge of pain struck my heart. But Mary….. She and Percy are still in hiding somewhere in the country. King George and his queen haven't given them pardon yet, and I'm sure Queen Charlotte is still angry that she eloped after refusing her own match back in her Season. Mary won't be welcomed back in London without the queen's blessing or permission. My fingers rose to my lips in a thoughtful manner. I have to help them somehow; maybe I can beg her majesty their pardon. But then she'll wonder how I know they're back in Britain… I'll have to be smart about this and wait for the right time. I have to see Mary again- I have to. It would make her mother and Jane so happy too.

That, and I must thank her for this marvellous book.

"Are you ready, sister?" Anthony called from the bottom of the main staircase. "Ready!" Exiting my room, I was all dressed up for the ball this evening. Lord Hastings had not come to dine with us once since we relocated to our home here in London; not that I minded. It was nice just having the nine of us again. Anthony, Benedict, and Father were all attending the ball at the palace with me. Yet another pointless night out for the Season; I would much rather spend it reading Mary's new novel. But tonight was different- it was the first ball we'd attend together as a couple who'd formally accepted our ahem, "engagement". Ugh, groan. This was going to be terrible. How were we going to convince people we're happy with this arrangement when we can barely stand to be in the same room? I didn't have high hopes that our plan would work, to say the least.

Our carriage arrived and Father helped me step out. Entering on his arm, the announcer declared our entrance onto the scene. My brothers scanned over the crowd in search for dancing partners while our father waited off to the side patiently with me. He held onto my arm the whole time, though it wasn't that long. I inwardly moaned when the duke appeared out from the crowd coming toward us. Father greeted him with a respectful grin while I did my best not to roll my eyes.

"Lord Hastings." "Good evening, Viscount." "Good evening, sir. It's grand to see you again, isn't it dearest?" Father said gazing to me. "Indeed," I forced a smile at my fiancé. His lordship gave me a once over, smirking instead of smiling. "You look ravishing, Miss Bridgerton." "Thank you, your grace. You look….. fine too," I managed to get out, earning a disapproving squeeze from Father's arm. He then grinned back to Lord Hastings. "I take it you'll have the first dance with Daphne this evening?" The duke blinked, like he hadn't thought about this before. But as soon as his expression showed hints of wavering, it firmed up with decision again. "Of course. Will you honour me with this dance?" He inquired to me. "Daphne?" Father urged when I didn't answer right away. Glancing from him to his lordship, I forced another grin and removed my arm from Father's. "I'd be delighted, your grace," not.

We took a few steps some feet apart nearer to the dance floor; I noticed some people starting to stare at us. It took everything I had not to blush in utter embarrassment. I wasn't going to fall in love with this man; why must I dance with him? Still, there was a ruse we must pull over everyone, especially the queen. I shot Lord Hastings a side-eyed glare. "Take my arm," I all but hissed quietly his way. He also shot me an unimpressed look. "What did I say earlier? I don't need you telling me what to do for our little "plan" to work." "Permit me to disagree with you, your grace. Act like a gentleman and take my arm. But don't touch my hand." The duke was about to scold me when he finally noticed the increasing attention on us. I think it really hit home once he saw the queen enter from the double-open doors in the back. Sucking in a long breath, I felt his tight arm suddenly coil around mine.

It was the first time we ever made physical contact with each other, and it was like nothing I'd ever experienced before. It only lasted for a second, and I remember every moment clear as day. It was just like when the Spaniard took hold of my hand, but times a thousand. The tingling was full-on vibration. The duke's arm was so muscular and strong; it cradled mine safely and with little effort. Thinking about it only made me blush more. Oh god…. Is this what other girls feel when they touch him? Why does he have to feel so perfect? Why does his skin have to be electric? This is going to make it all the harder for me, particularly when we have to dance together.

Lord Hastings silently led me out onto the dance floor. He retracted his arm from mine the moment we arrived, of which I was grateful for; I was already blushing too much. I didn't think it possible, but my cheeks turned even redder when he all of a sudden took a step toward me, holding out his hand. "W-What are you doing?!" I gasped. "Isn't it obvious? I'm dancing with you." "I told you! Don't touch my hand." He couldn't have rolled his eyes harder. "How else do you expect me to waltz with you? Stop being so shy and take my hand already; people are watching," he muttered under his breath. I tried to move my arms, but they wouldn't budge. Rolling his eyes again his hand flew over to grab hold of mine, making my heart skip a beat. Lots of beats.

The colour in the duke's face also flushed the moment our hands collided. He looked breathless for a second, and then gave his head a harsh shake. There, in the middle of the dance floor, we stood for much too long, merely holding each other's hands. As if coming to his senses, he took another step closer to me and my breath stilled. "N-Now what are you doing?! Why are you so close?" "Honestly, have you never danced before? I knew you were naïve, but this is too far, isn't it?" His smirk finally returned, relaxing me a little. His free hand slid around me touching the bottom of my back, and I was blushing so much I had a fever. We still hadn't danced a step, still standing there like stone statues, and holding each other. Yes, bystanders were definitely watching by now, including my shocked brothers.

The music was playing, not that I heard a note of it. "Come closer," Lord Hastings commanded, pressing his hand into my back. We were so near one another now that I could hear him breathe. He must have been paying attention to the melody since without warning, I found myself dancing on the floor with him. My fiancé led me with such grace and care, though I'm sure he'd deny taking my comfort into consideration if I mentioned it to him. At first it was being in a dream, in ecstasy, and that soon gave way to conversation. We were dancing anyway; might as well talk to each other and look like we're enjoying ourselves.

I didn't take my pounding heart to be a sign of joy at the time.

"So you can dance then?" I heard myself blurt out unthinkingly. Bad mouth! His lordship smirked down at me, half-amused, half-insulted. "I'm surprised you can dance. I thought your education was in male pursuits; not female accomplishments." "Language is not a gendered pursuit, your grace. Anyone can learn a language." "But not everyone wants to," his smirked grew. I felt the need to be playful in return and wanted to be a bit of a brat. "Well, I understand if you find it boring or dare I say, difficult, my lord," oh, the look on his face just then made it worth it. His smirk instantly morphed into a frown. "Are you implying that you're smarter than me?" "I will be, once I continue my education after we're married," I replied with a cheeky grin of my own. His hand gave mine a punishing squeeze, only for his cocky smirk to return.

"You know, Miss Bridgerton, I believe you were right when you declared that I hated you yesterday. I've never met a lady as insufferable as you." "Which should make you all the more pleased that I'm your intended. It'll be easy for you to say goodbye after our wedding day, won't it?" I grinned; he did not. Instead, he stared down at me a moment, giving me a twirl on the dance floor. Yet again, his charming smirk came back after a minute of staring into my eyes.

"Your hands are small, like a child's hand. Anyone ever tell you that before?" "No, my lord. You're the first to notice that I believe." "What a pain you are to dance with. You're so light, so featherweight. I feel like I have to keep a tight hold of you, lest your feet scarcely touch the ground," he told me, and my cheeks flushed. He chuckled at this. "Don't tell me you're complimented by this sentiment, Miss Bridgerton?" "You should talk. Your arms are so muscular, I feel as if you might crush me any minute." "It would be easy, like breaking a lilac twig," he growled friskily. My own grin curled into a teasing smirk. "You compare me to a lilac branch?" I asked, using his own words against him, which he did not like. "What have I told you before? Don't flatter yourself. I would never be moved to compliment a girl as head-strong or precocious as you." "Well that works out, as I can find nothing to compliment about you either, your grace." "Really? Your crimson cheeks say otherwise," his smirk couldn't have been coyer just then. It had the undesired effect of making me blush even more.

I felt his hand press into my back closer at the sight of my burning face. His eyes shone down into mine. "What's this? Have I finally managed to leave you speechless, my lady?" Snapping out of it, I gave my brain a very firm kick and my grin returned in full force. "Not at all, your grace. For as anyone can clearly see, the only point on which we don't disagree on, is that the very thought of spending time together is dreaded." He chuckled again, holding my hand tighter. "You got that right. When picking a future wife, or even a friend, I'd never choose you." "My sentiments exactly, my lord," I laughed, and he twirled me again. Our eyes met again, and we smiled at each other- for real this time. "This is going to be surprisingly easy. You're going to make it easy to leave you in some months' time, Lord Hastings." "I couldn't agree with you more, Miss Bridgerton."

"Well now, look at you two!" Both our heads suddenly shot over to Lady Danbury, who was approaching us where we stopped on the dance floor. She gave both of us an approving nod. "Finally dancing together, are you? You look to be having fun." "We do?" Both Lord Hastings and I blinked to the other in genuine astonishment. Fun….? Was that "fun" we were just having? But we were declaring our open hatred for each other; how could that possibly be fun? Yes, we were smiling a lot…. But that doesn't mean we were enjoying our banter, does it?

Lady Danbury looked at me in particular. "He is smiling. The duke rarely smiles," she confided to me, making Lord Hastings roll his eyes. "Oh, don't be so ridiculous. Of course I don't look so at ease." "Allow me to disagree with you, Simon. You and Daphne appear quite natural together out here, laughing and clinging to each other." As soon as she said this, I immediately ripped myself away from the duke, hugging myself in a comforting manner. This caught both Lord Hastings and Lady Danbury by surprise, as they both looked to me worried. "Miss Bridgerton?" Her ladyship inquired. My lips quivered a little before I blinked, perking up slightly. "O-Oh…. Oh, it's nothing. I was just thinking that's enough dancing for one night." "But you've only had one waltz together," Lady Danbury pressed. His grace eyed my nervous expression for a moment before leaning closer to his god-mother. "I think Miss Bridgerton and I have exhausted ourselves already." "Hmmmmm, could be. Perhaps you need a drink, Daphne. Remember your condition," her ladyship nodded in sudden understanding. My eyes drifted from her back onto the duke, who was looking back at me.

"Take her to get something to drink and maybe some fresh air, Simon," Lady Danbury ordered him. "If I must," he sighed and rolled his eyes. Satisfied with this, her ladyship made her way back over to my father. We waited until she was gone, then Lord Hastings took a step nearer to me and held out his arm. I blinked at him wildly, sliding my feet back. "Don't touch me!" My hands curled together in front of my chest in a defensive position. He rolled his eyes for the millionth time that evening. "You're the one who said we've got to look the part for this to work. Do not worry, Miss Bridgerton; it means nothing. You can take my arm without fear that I'll get attached. Trust me," his eyes lowered onto mine. I peered up at him timidly. "Are you sure?" I asked in a whisper. He smiled, lowering his head ever so slightly. "Haven't I already made myself clear? That's not going to happen. I can hold onto you, and let you go just as easily." "Good," I breathed a sigh in relief, wrapping my arm around his. I felt his muscles tense as he held mine securely. Our eyes met again. "Don't forget, your grace, that this doesn't change anything. I still despise you." "The same is true for me, Miss Bridgerton. I couldn't help but hate you," he said, and I smiled. His arm gave mine another close squeeze.

"I'll never detest another lady as much as I hate you."