His eyes had been trained on her the entire evening, for even when she couldn't see him within the glittering swirl of the ton, she could feel him. She could feel the fiery blaze in which his deep and dark scrutiny burned against her flesh, distance and a boisterous crowd doing little to diminish the effect of his shadowy amber stare. It was strong, even when it was silent without a single word to be spoken, the feeling of Anthony Bridgerton's unrelenting stare upon her being from across the ballroom, was overwhelming.

She caught his gaze at some point during the evening, a faint turn of her attention resulting in her simple glance becoming captivated by his stilled stare. A simple flutter of her eyelashes as her lips pressed gently against the smooth rim of her champagne flute, both movements stalled immediately as her sight landed upon the heaviness of his deep brown gaze, staring at her from the opposite side of the room. Through the mass of dancing debutantes still searching for their perfect match, past members of the ton who drank greedily and whispered gossips that floated through the room like a lone feather in the wind. His gaze was steady through the blurring swish of bold colors and twinkling embellishments, that painted the ballroom as though fresh streaks in a watercolor. Anthony Bridgerton leaned back against the delicately designed wall, his stance relaxed but his demeanor politely composed. He stood before the peering eyes of the ton as a dignified Viscount, but he stared her down like the roguish rake that they both knew he was.

His stare didn't falter as he brought his own drink to his lips, parting them against the glimmering rim, letting the smooth bubbling liquid glide down his throat in a single swallow. She cursed the way he looked, so self-possessed and indisputably attractive, in his perfectly tailored attire. The intricate detailing along the fabric of his ivory waist coat, disappearing into the pure ink black shade of his tailcoat, consuming him in an alluring combination of contradicting colors. For the white brought out a softness amongst his rigid and stern expressions, but the black hid it away as though it was never there to begin with. It was in that single expression, the faint passing of ticking seconds that their eyes were locked, that she tore away her gaze. Returning her attention to those around her seeking for a moment of conversation with her and her fiancé.

Although she continued to feel the burning weight of his strong scrutiny upon her softly lace draped shoulders in the hours that followed, she hadn't returned her gaze to Anthony's, managing to avoid the corners he stood in and the circles he conversed within. She dodged the sight of his strong and relentless stare until it was no longer an option, lifting her gaze to his deeply flared brown eyes as his fingers slipped around her own gloved palm. Pressing his lips to her knuckles in a delicate meeting, as he made his way to introduce himself to her fiancé. She saw through his façade the second Anthony made his way through the crowd and sauntered over to the couple. She'd seen his display of toxic masculinity for what it was immediately, detecting the disingenuousness in his words that were saturated in patronizing courtesy. She knew the polite curl of his lips was anything but a sincere smile, the expression he wore may have managed to deceive her fiancé, but she could read Anthony Bridgerton like the clear cover of a book.

It was for that reason, that nearly intolerable encounter that left her with an unwanted taste lingering upon her taste buds, that her softly pattering heels led her out of the ballroom. Slipping from the comforting embrace of her fiancé's company, seeking a moment away from the air that was tainted with the insincerity and garish display of those around her. She hurried past tables that glimmered with the reflection of light against their delicate china, through the bustle of scouting mothers and their desperate daughters, until she passed through the wide doorway. The skirt of her deep violet gown sweeping against the base of her ankles, as she flew down the corridor, never once raising her attention to those brushing against her shoulders on their way into the party. The sound of roaring instrumental melodies and the endless chatter of society's highest regards, melding away to the background as she found her footsteps finally beginning to slow as she reached a vacant room. It was engulfed in deep shadows, the walls dancing with the absence of light from the bright glow of the ball, left rooms and a mere hallway away now.

It was as though a single candle burned in the center of the space, illuminating the softly wallpapered walls in a faint, nearly pointless light. It's flickering orange shade casting against the sculptures of delicately chiseled art and the golden accents of the furniture to the far right. A large painting hung in place of meaning against the vastly stretching wall beside her, the frame dancing with deep swirls of gold that timidly shimmered like the hidden moon on a shadowy night. The painting itself, a masterpiece only half lit by the left over light from the ensuing party down the ways. Brush stokes of deeply saturated paint, creating an image of a strong man whose features were hidden from her view.

The room was still, no longer did it feel as though the ground beneath her feet shook with the intensity of the overwhelming ball. No longer did her lips ache with the permanent placement of a gracious smile that never managed to meet her eyes, but most of all, her lungs exhaled with the sensation of relief as her shoulders felt the coolness of the shadows. Her flesh no longer burning beneath the strong scrutiny of Anthony Bridgerton's stare, the darkness of the empty room and the quietness of the atmosphere, a balm against the lingering singe of her skin.

Perhaps, it was in that very same breath of relief, found within the solace of dense shadows and false security, that she hadn't felt his presence abruptly appear. His brown eyed gaze reaching her with an extinguished flame as the coolness of the empty room blew out the match, before the heat of his stare could reach her healing flesh once again. Leaving her unalerted to Anthony's sudden appearance for the very first time, until his lips parted and the sound of his voice engulfed the entire room in a strong and serious tone.

"You do not love him."

There was a clear sense of confidence in Anthony's voice, while his tone remained even and straightforward, his words fell from his lips in an effortless breath of certainty that caused her heels to immediately twirl against the reflective flooring. The delicate fabric of her skirt swishing around her legs as she faced him in all of her entirety, meeting his intense gaze for the third time that evening. It didn't swelter her in a burning heat as it had in the bright light of the ballroom, but there would forever be a strong sting to his scrutiny, as though his very sight could burn holes through the fabric adorning her flesh.

Swallowing a deep breath, as she watched Anthony proceed a single step forward, further into the shadows that engulfed her own being, somehow illuminating his frame more as he now shared the darkness alongside her. Her eyes narrowed as she watched his feet come to a halt, space still standing strong between their bodies, and she regarded him with an incredulous expression.

"I beg your pardon, My Lord?"

It wasn't a soft tone in which she addressed him, in fact, she was sure it was no where near polite in her state of societal standing. But as she stared at Anthony Bridgerton who stood before her now, composed and infuriatingly self-assured, she realized she didn't care very much for proper decorum in that moment in time. For his remark that had captured her attention in the first place, hadn't been one of appropriateness that much she knew, much less the fact that they stood rooms away from the ensuing ball without a single chaperone in sight. But it was the annoyance with his very character that she felt bubbling in the base of her chest, the outrage she had to swallow when she watched his utterly fake interaction with her fiancé, that allowed her to regard him with irritated disbelief at his sudden spout of candor.

"You do not love him."

Anthony repeated the words without a single hinderance, letting them spew from his parted lips in a single breath, with a confident arch of his eyebrows. While his lips remained uncurled by the self-righteous smirk she was anticipating an appearance from, the softly shadowed expressions hidden within the lines of his face, spoke of the arrogant undertones in his bold observation. He spoke the words as though they were common knowledge, that if she opened a book from the library they would surely be printed right there on the page, alongside decade old ink.

Her eyes narrowed further in disbelief of his blatant words, unable to contain the unbecoming scoff slipping past her own parted lips, hearing the strangled exhale echo in the small space around them.

"You know no such thing."

"I believe that I do," Anthony rebutted quickly, as her words had only just begun to settle in the atmosphere, his feet guiding him a step closer to her deep violet bathed being. "I see it in your eyes when you are with him, they're extinguished. The light within them dormant and the color that captivates your irises, they are sullen with traces of the shade they once were. You do not love him, that much I know."

She hated the way he could stand there as he did now, feet away from her, completely composed on top of his high horse, while leaving her blood nearly boiling beneath her flesh. For he had always managed a way to crawl beneath her skin, irritate her in ways that no one else could ever quite match. But the annoyance that had overwhelmed her for most of the evening from his childish, his arrogant and his blatantly insecure interactions, came to a head in this very conversation. The vexation in which she felt in regards to the Viscount, erupted into a sense of pure outrage. An anger coursing through her veins as though it was the very blood pumping through her being.

"And I suppose that you do, My Lord?" Her tone was sharp, as her suddenly fierce words bit through the air, as though they might in some capacity manage to tear through his own flesh, as his burning gaze had done to her the entire evening. "I suppose you are the only reasonable one who must appear to know with whom my heart resides?"

She watched with narrowed eyes, as Anthony's chest expanded with a sharp rise of his shoulders. A deep inhale entering his lungs as he braced for the blow of her words. Her finely entuned scrutiny burning with a fresh blaze of fury at his brazen audacity to approach her with these assumptions and accusatory opinions.

"The only one who must have a grappling ideal of love. Tell me, Lord Bridgerton," Her dark violet dress moved with her short steps, the shade of freshly bloomed petals making her stand out amongst a sea of pastel hues, and yet in the dimly lit shadows, she nearly faded away. The smooth fabric brushed against her flesh and the tips of her heels, that halted as she closed the space remaining between them down to a mere foot, possibly two. "who do you love? For it is surely not a single debutante out there."

As she stood in his close proximity, the scent of his rich and dangerously intoxicating cologne wafting against her senses, she stared at the expression worn upon his stilled and nearly stoic face. His brows had since fallen, furrowed in his own sensation of burning vexation she was sure of. His lips stalled in the flattest line they could muster, but it was in the dark abyss of dense brown with mere glimmers of a golden amber, that she found clarity into the state of his mind. Her words, her sharp icy tone, was meant to effect him in the very way his relentlessly burning gaze had effected her the entire evening. But as she stared into the depths of Anthony's eyes, all she saw was a blaze of confrontation and irritation and a faint glimmer of amusement in her unbecoming behavior. He hadn't been effected by her words, for they were perhaps nothing of a surprise to his own knowledge. But watching Anthony's eyes reflecting a blatant and unfazed expression, after having the audacity to accuse her in such a precarious room in an inappropriate event, added accelerant to her fire.

"Perhaps it is that little opera singer," It was with that single remark that she caught sight of something new blaze through his sight, his jaw clenching immediately at her words and she swore she could see his entire body tense beneath his perfectly tailored attire. Outrage soared through his expression, the anger clearly burning in his blood now and she knew he was finally beginning to approach the level of upset that she herself felt from his own uncalled for actions. "the one you still seek to believe not a soul knows about. When you're gallivanting around on the other side of town, standing out amongst the crowd like a sore bloody thumb. Is it her?"

It was Anthony's turn for a scoff to blow past his lips, his in a sharp exhale of strength and fury, the heat of his breath fanning against the edge of her cheek. His eyes tore away from her steady gaze as he shook his head in disbelief from her brazen remarks, the edges of his still gaped lips curling ever so imperceptibly as though for a mere tenth of a second, something about her blatant words were in some way comical. But they flattened as quickly as the flash of the sight appeared, curling further down into a deep set frown as his attention returned to her awaiting stare, his eyes burning now with a crystal clear emotion of pure pique.

His jaw set as his brows arched high with a challenging expression, Anthony's next words falling from his lips as sharply as her own. The words serious in tone, with the tips of their syllables edged as though a blade formulated to slash through her thoughts and strongly riled convictions. "Are you truly willing to live the rest of your life pretending, acting as though that man out there is everything your heart once desired?"

She stayed silent, as his words settled within her chest. For as much as she despised the admission, they entered the atmosphere and her ears with a instant weight she simply couldn't ignore. For she felt it as his stern tone and argumentative words landed against her skin and seemed to soak through the surface as though the densest lead. She studied Anthony Bridgerton in the silence that overwhelmed them, hovering above their heads as though the darkest clouds carrying an impending rainstorm. Her eyes darting ever so faintly back and forth in order to see clearly the very depths of his dark orbs, until she realized the longer she watched him, searching for her response in the thunderous void of quiet, that she could not fight fire with fire the way Anthony desired.

This was his game, she had long ago discovered. He knew exactly what to say to make her come undone, the only way he knew exactly how to win in any confrontation, conversation or interaction he might possibly find himself a part of. Anthony knew her too well, he knew her weaknesses and the buttons that held her tightly concealed vexations. He was sure of his words, having them prepared in the base of his thundering thoughts as though he had written his arguments down and carried the paper with him. He knew her well enough to predict and have an unnerving confidence in what her next set of words might possibly be. But as she peered up through the dark sprawl of her fluttering eyelashes, staring deeper into his chasmic expression, she felt new words collect against the very tip of her tongue. She abandoned the way he wanted her to respond, having his own response readied and aimed, and found the words of her own. They were drenched in intense frustration with the man before her, the man that controlled her emotions and captivated her thoughts far more than she was ever willing to admit, but the words she found were weighed down with a deeply hidden honesty. A sincerity so strong that they forced them up from the most secure cavities of her heart and out into the open air.

"Tell me you love me Anthony, once and for all, tell me you love me."

Her tone was nearly breathless, for even as the expression in her voice spoke with a profound seriousness that she could feel beating in the harsh rhythm of her racing heart, the words hit the air as though a leaf blowing around in the swirl of a windstorm. They were delicate and frail words, strung together with the utmost care and precision, and yet the weight in which they held, it was made of something impenetrable.

She peered up at him through the deep swell of her keen scrutiny, her ever pale tinted lips parted as her words continued to form, shallow breaths passing through the crack as they seeped slowly into the cavity of her quickly expanding lungs. Her hands hung restlessly at her sides, her fingers that were clothed in slick cream silk ran over the fabric of her sweeping gown. Anxious movements as her fingertips toyed with the material, curling her hands into the softest fists before releasing the pressure not even a minute later.

"Tell me how wrong I truly am, how I am to squander away the rest of my life with the gentleman I accompanied here tonight, how the man who waits for me out on that ballroom floor is not the right one for me. But I beg of you, pray tell me who is, is it you? Tell me you love me Anthony, say it and I'll believe it."

Her words stunned him to his very core, stealing the breath from his lungs as her voice echoed his name as her words clasped around him. Her brows were arched as the blaze in her irises burned bright. She had startled his confidence, all the while, remaining steady on her own certain ground.

It was as though all of the oxygen in the very room had somehow disintegrated, the air suddenly thick with a suffocating clasp of it's iron hands, all the while feeling incredible thin and nearly unattainable when aching for a deep breath. The blood pounded through her veins as though it was within herself that she found the heavy vibrations once found out on the dance floor. But with strong and courageous conscious effort, her eyes remained steady on Anthony's intense stare, watching the way the expression across his face began to falter with something she hadn't witnessed from him before. She watched him closely in the moment that followed her crucial plead, her aching remark that felt more passionate with a deeply rooted emotion rather than a blur of freshly burning frustration, waiting with bated breath for his response.

Anthony Bridgerton couldn't say the words however, not because they were not the truth lodged deep in the cavity of his heart, but rather they were the very words that struck fear into his bones. He'd never been able to say the words before, nor had he ever found the desire to, believing they held a crippling power he hadn't wanted to touch. But even now, as the moment finally came for those daunting three words to mend something instead of break it, he simply couldn't form the words needed.