Anthony Bridgerton dragged his hands down his face as he slumped deeper into his chair with a sigh, stressed by the papers laid out on the desk in front of him. Many a time as a child, he had peered into his father's office, landing on the sight of him in a very similar situation. Whilst the former Viscount Bridgerton had a better poker face, his son could always sense his distress. The biggest giveaway was his need to walk several laps around the garden before he could bear to return to his scribbles. Anthony was beginning to understand the craving.

Five years had passed since his father's death, and he'd hoped he would have started to get to grips with his new position by now. Unfortunately, being the head of a family was no easy task. Whilst his sister was a few seasons off, Daphne was closing in on marital age, and whichever sad sap she married set the standard for his other sisters' suitors. Of course, his mother would take the lead on that front, but the concern still lingered in the back of his mind. On top of this were the accounts, the house, the staff...the list went on for miles and all of it now depended on him to organise. Everything was his responsibility. It was enough to drive the sanest man to madness.

All of it would be a lot easier if his mother didn't insist on him finding a wife for himself. He shuddered at the thought. Only a year out of Oxford, he had more important things occupying his mind. Two weeks prior, Lady Brigderton practically thrust Miss Elena Greenwood onto him during a ball, and the poor girl wasn't the slightest bit interested. Yet, the two were forced to endure not one, but two dances as their meddling mamas watched on from the sidelines. Hopefully, for Anothy's sake, in a year Benedict would be able to take half the brunt. Though, with three children of marital age, their mother might just combust.

Finally giving up on his work, Anthony pushed himself away from his desk and stood up to stretch his legs. Unlike his father, he avoided the laps around the garden, seeking quiet rather than the chaos his family too often provided. With the start of summer afoot, most of the Bridgerton offspring were back home, filling every corridor and room with endless deafening screams of giddiness. One could barely think with the noise. Instead, Anthony headed for the library, where he only risked bumping into his little sister Eloise - who would probably be far too busy reading to notice he had even entered the room. With her, he still had a chance at peace.

Sure enough, she was curled up in the corner of the room, her eyes whizzing across hundreds of words every minute, and as expected, she didn't flinch when he opened the door. Even when he strolled across the room to sit at the window, she remained focused. He secretly envied her willpower.

The view from the window calmed his mind. Carriages trotting along the roads as people sauntered up and down the streets somehow soothed him, the simple movements allowing his eyes to drift freely as well as severing as proof that the world continued even when he took a break.

The day was no different from any other day. People went about their lives as they usually did, without a single care in the world. Everything was exactly as it always had been...all until, something new emerged into the picture. A carriage he had never seen before rolled down the road, stopping directly in front of the old Bradford house. He straightened his back to get a better view, and for a few moments nothing happened, not even the footman moved, like he'd been ordered to stay back. Anthony filled with anticipation for who his new neighbours could be, and it only heightened when the carriage door was finally opened.

First, a small boy toppled out, no older than six, and did not falter in his landing. He was followed by an older girl, most likely a similar age to Anthony, with golden hair, towering at least two feet and a half above the child. Next was a younger girl, who resembled the first in both looks and style, but had allowed her hairpins to fall loose from a long journey. From his distance, the details of their features were too difficult to make out, but he knew for certain that if Lady Bridgerton caught her children in a similar state, all hell would have broken erupted - long journey or not.

After six years of the old Bradford house lying abandoned, the Bridgertons had given up hope of ever welcoming new neighbours. The last they heard of the Bradfords was that they'd moved to Rome so their eldest daughter could attend school out there. Even though the family had been gone for so many years, Anthony never imagined they would sell their house. London property was far too valuable to discard.

"What are you looking at?" Eloise suddenly popped up beside him, making him jump. She rose to her tiptoes, trying to peer over her brother's shoulder, still keeping a firm grip on her book.

"We have new neighbours," He replied, watching as the two young women ushered the nervous boy towards the house.

Eloise stumbled, falling forwards as she lost her balance, the only thing saving her from smacking her face against the window was hitting her brother's shoulder instead. Anthony shuffled up, giving her a space on the window seat to get a better view. She quickly knelt up, pressing her nose and hands against the glass. "Who are they?"

"I don't know," He shrugged, a gesture only reserved for when he was in his family's company, "but no doubt mother will want to make a big song and dance about them."

"Do you think they are nice?" She asked. Eloise never trusted anyone until she knew them properly.

"Maybe," He said. No one in London was truly nice. You were lucky if your acquaintances were bearable, but even then, you learnt pretty quickly that everyone had a dark side they wanted to keep hidden.

Just as the others reached the front door, another figure emerged from the carriage. Both Anthony and Eloise watched as an older woman climbed down the carriage steps before planting her feet firmly on the ground and inhaled, as if she was sniffing out old memories.

It took only a moment for the sparks of recognition to ignite in Anthony's mind, causing his chest to constrict as if all the air had vanished from the room. He knew exactly who she was.

Lady Remelda Bradford.

Eyeing her brother, puzzled by his apparent distress, Eloise asked, "Are you alright, brother? Do I need to fetch mama?"

Words failed him as visions of the cruel woman's scowl whizzed in front of his eyes, the fear she'd caused him and his brothers in their childhood was still singed into his heart. Her witch-like features painted her perfectly as the fairy tale villain, even though they were more defined in his memories than they apparently were in reality. Still, his stomach twisted in fright.

Her presence could only mean one thing - the two young women waiting for her at the doorway of their home had to be Evelyn and Aurelia - confirming his theory that the Bradfords had returned to Mayfair.

Without even responding to his sister's concerns, Anthony raced out of the library, launching into his hunt for the first family member he could find to tell them the news. The Bradfords' departure had been so abrupt, entirely without warning, leaving the ton is a mist of bemused speculation. Whispers burst like fireworks as to why they had suddenly rushed away, but no one had been able to find any solid answers. Maybe their return would finally provide them.

"Anthony," Violet Bridgerton gasped when she nearly collided with her son in the drawing-room doorway, "what on earth are you doing?"

"The Bradfords have returned," He announced out of breath, darting across the room towards the window.

Within seconds, Violet and her eldest child craned their necks to obtain a better view of the family below. Benedict, who had been sitting on the sofa, ran to join them, unable to believe what he was hearing was true.

"I never thought we'd see them again," Violet gawked. "Has Remelda had another child?"

"Apparently," Benedict spied the boy barely out of his toddler years, before smirking at Lady Bridgerton, "don't be getting any ideas, mother. I dread to think of what name you'd come up with beginning with an 'I'."

Violet swatted her second son on the arm.

Down on the ground, the Bradfords were welcomed by their butler who, along with the housekeeper and a handful of servants, had been looking after the house in their absence. By the horrified expression on his face, he hadn't expected their return either. It seemed everyone had been kept in the dark.

"I don't see rings on either of the girls' fingers," Violet remarked, nudging her eldest son with her elbow. Did she ever take a break from being a meddling mama?

Out of respect for her, Anthony held his tongue. Still, the news intrigued him. Not many women in London made it to their mid-twenties unmarried, and those who did were often too embarrassed to make regular appearances in society.

"Maybe they are here for the start of the season," Benedict concluded.

Anthony surveyed him closely, surprised by his calm demeanour. He recalled his brother and the youngest Bradford girl being rather close, he assumed he'd be more thrilled to see her again.

"But they missed the presentation," Violet gasped, horrified such a thing would be allowed.

"I'm sure they will survive," Benedict assured her. Yet, when it came down to his mother and society's rules, perhaps they wouldn't. It was unlikely that anyone would want to marry a debutant who lacked the King and Queen's approval, so why bother with the season, at all? However, many suitors could find the mystery of their disappearance too appealing to ignore. It just might be their saving grace.

"Who are the Bradfords?" Eloise appeared in the doorway, finally catching up with her brother.

"Eloise Bridgerton, must you always sneak up on people?" Violet gasped, pressing her hand to her chest. Eloise didn't flinch at her scolding. "They are the family who used to live next door."

"Are they moving back in?" She pressed, unsatisfied with her lack of knowledge on the subject.

"It appears so," Her mother sighed, staring back out the window. The ton would be abuzz with the news of their return, and she was already anticipating her friend's reactions to why she didn't know herself. The situation needed to be immediately rectified. "We must do something to welcome them back."

"I don't think they will want people sticking their noses in their business so soon after they have arrived," Benedict stated. The poor family had been in London a mere ten minutes, and their mother was already strategising to bombard them. It would be enough to scare them off all over again.

"I am not 'sticking my nose in'," Violet scoffed, deeply offended by the implication, "I'm being neighbourly." Anthony and Benedict exchanged a speculating glance, knowing full well their mother was being anything but. Violet huffed, "Well, they can't very well disappear for six years without an explanation and not expect people to talk."

Like the rest of the ton, the family's absence wasn't the main cause of Violet's concern, but the fact that she didn't know the reason behind it. For six years, Mayfair had been driven insane by their lack of evidence behind the gossip, and none of them would be willing to let it go so easily.

"We could bake them a cake?" Eloise suggested.

Violet burst with excitement. "Excellent idea, Eloise. I will set the cook to the task this instant." She scurried to the door, thrilling to have an excuse to pry into her neighbour's lives, halting just before she vanished from sight. Swinging her head around, she glared at her two sons, "At least one family member is trying to be helpful."

If Anthony was being completely honest, he wanted to keep as much distance between the Bradfords and himself as possible. Not only for the harsh nature of Lady Bradford, but the highly aggravating personality of her daughters. From what he could remember, Aurelia Bradford put Daphne's ability to wind him up to shame. Before she left, he'd softened daydreamed of all ways to enact his revenge for her constant need to anger him. If it wasn't for inducing his mother's rage, he would have gone through with quite a few of them. Vengeance would have never tasted so sweet.

Yet, he could not stop his family from making a fuss, and allowing them to do so would distract the Bradfords from yearning to remake his acquaintance. That is, if his mother refrained from her meddling - a dream he knew was far from attainable.