In Love And War
Title: In Love And War
Fandom: Bridgertons Series - Julia Quinn
Category: Kate/Anthony
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,979
Summary: Kate and Anthony find themselves in a disagreement over their musical instruments.
Notes: Many, many thanks to empressearwig, katayla, and funbol. Written for Mara for Yuletide 2012.
Aubrey Hall
Kent
April 1830
All things considered, Anthony Bridgerton thought himself a relatively intelligent man. He may not have taken any firsts at Oxford, but Anthony didn’t put much stock in that. He was a well-respected and influential member of the House of Lords and had successfully stepped in as head of his extremely large family at the age of eighteen. (And besides, he rather preferred to leave the theoretical mathematics to his friend Simon.)
Yet more important than any of that was the fact that he had chosen a most intelligent woman as his wife. There was nothing quite like a wife who was one’s equal to keep a man’s intellect sharp. Knowing one’s opponent was up to the task made it all the more satisfying when one bested that opponent.
On this particular morning in April, however, Anthony had badly miscalculated. He planned to spend the morning in his study going over the household accounts. He had been putting them off for nearly a week, much preferring to spend his time at Aubrey Hall outdoors with his children (and anywhere with his wife). But it must be done, and since Anthony’s mother and several of his siblings and their families would be descending upon Aubrey Hall for the Easter holiday, Anthony knew there was no putting it off any longer.
It was this, of course, that was the source of his distraction when his wife announced her presence.
“Anthony?”
Kate knocked once at the door of his study before the door creaked open and she stepped inside. (His wife never did wait for an answer. Not that he actually minded, but he would never admit that to her.) She walked to stand behind him, peering over his shoulder when he did not break his concentration, merely uttering “Yes, Kate?” without looking up from his books.
“My dear husband,” Kate said, leaning in and wrapping her arms around him. Her voice lowered and grew softer, and he felt her breath against his neck.
Anthony closed his accounting books. She had his attention now.
“Yes, Kate?” he repeated.
“My dear husband,” Kate began again, this time leaning in to kiss him.
Well, if this was what she had in mind, Anthony supposed the accounting could wait until later. Maybe tomorrow. Or the next day. Surely he would want for an excuse to escape his siblings and their families for a few hours, wouldn’t he?
“Where,” Kate continued, punctuating her words with more kisses, “did you put my flute?”
Oh.
Suddenly Kate was no longer kissing him. She stood behind him, frowning, her arms folded threateningly across her chest.
“I’m sorry?”
Kate quirked an eyebrow in response.
“My flute,” she ground out, “is missing. I would like to know where you put it.”
“It isn’t in the music room?” Anthony asked.
“No.” Kate replied shortly. “If it were in the music room, I would not be in here asking you where you have put it.”
He had not seen her flute since she had last practiced, two days previously. He would not be surprised if she had simply gotten distracted by the children’s game (Edmund and Miles had been tricked into playing hide and seek with Charlotte, and it had gotten rather involved) and had put her instrument away in a place that was not her usual. He would go investigate that later, but he would not suggest that to her now. He found it was never in one’s best interest to suggest such things to one’s wife.
Instead, he simply told her that he had not seen it since she last practiced.
“I thought you might say that,” Kate answered. “I am just here to let you know that I will find it,” she continued, her voice taking on a sweetness that sounded almost threatening. “And when I do, well, then you will be sorry.”
With that, she sauntered out of his study, swinging her hips as she walked.
As threats went, Kate’s was particularly dangerous. He knew there would be no peace at Aubrey Hall once she found her flute again. Especially for any member of the household who happened to be gifted with exceptional hearing.
Anthony coughed to clear his throat. Perhaps he had best go check the music room for her now.
With a threat like that hanging over his head, it wasn’t like he would be able to finish his accountings now anyway.
Later
Kate knew, of course, that she was a truly terrible musician. For her, that was part of the fun of continuing to play, long past the point where others might have given up. She had simply thought she might practice for a few minutes this morning before making sure everything was set for the rest of the Bridgerton family to join them at Aubrey Hall for the next week.
It was clear to her that Anthony must have hidden her instrument to prevent just that from happening. To what end, she was not yet entirely sure, but she never let a challenge from her husband go unanswered. That would be poor form, indeed.
Kate spent several hours over the course of the morning, looking for her flute in all of the usual hiding places (and every unusual hiding place she could think of). But to no avail. Wherever Anthony had hidden it (and she was still sure he had), it was most well-hidden.
In the afternoon, after seeing that everything was prepared for the upcoming Easter visits, Kate abandoned her search for the flute itself, deciding to change tactics and go after the alleged thief instead.
She found her husband with their seven year old daughter Charlotte, out in the gardens. From the look of them, he had just taken her out riding. A fact which Charlotte quickly confirmed, grinning from ear to ear before scampering back towards the house for her afternoon lessons.
Being, of course, her parents’ daughter, Charlotte Bridgerton was no fool. She knew that her father was in trouble and eagerly made her escape. (It wasn’t that her parents ever really fought, but these things frequently ended in kissing, a horror that no seven year old child wished to witness.)
Kate watched her daughter safely back into the house before giving her husband a pointed look.
“You covered your tracks well,” she started sweetly. “It was very clever of you to hide your trumpet as well.”
“I did not hide anything,” Anthony claimed with a shrug of his shoulders. He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. “But I am aware that my trumpet is missing. I checked the music room myself after we spoke this morning.”
“I’m sure you did,” she replied skeptically.
Men, she thought to herself. They think they are so clever. They think we do not notice.
To Anthony, Kate continued, “If you did not hide my flute . . .”
“And my own trumpet,” Anthony added helpfully.
“Yes,” she conceded. “And your trumpet.”
Her husband nodded once assuredly.
“If you did not hide the instruments,” she forged on, “Then who did?”
“Perhaps,” he offered, somewhat reluctantly, “You simply put your flute down in a different place than you usually do?”
Kate’s only response was a glare in his direction.
“Or,” Anthony quickly suggested, “Perhaps one of the maids mistakenly moved the instruments while she was cleaning.”
“It’s possible,” she agreed. “But it isn’t likely. If the instruments were simply moved, they would still be in the music room, and you and I have both checked the room ourselves. We would likely have found them if that were the case.” Kate paused to allow him to consider this. To allow him to think she didn’t know better.
“So,” she continued. “The only explanation is that someone has hidden them. And I know that someone is you, my dear husband.”
He frowned. Ha. That was almost as good as an expression of guilt.
“Is it not possible that someone else has hidden them?” Anthony offered. “With guests coming, perhaps the housekeeper thought hiding our instruments was the best course of action.”
A fair suggestion, of course, but Kate knew better.
“The only way Mrs. Brooks would do that is if one of your siblings bribed her to do so . . .”
“Which we know,” Anthony added helpfully, “Colin, at least, is not opposed to doing.” Under his breath, he muttered, “And I would not put it past the others as well.”
“Colin would not,” Kate said assuredly, trying to hold back a laugh. “He enjoys watching you listen to me play too much.”
“Simon, then.”
Anthony was scrambling, and she was enjoying it all too much.
“Try again,” Kate replied. “Simon would not either. And for much the same reason.”
“He would if Daff asked him to.”
A fair point, but one Kate would not easily concede.
“While I applaud your efforts to incriminate your siblings, dear husband, you must remember that I know you. And I will expose you.”
Anthony laughed. It was one of her favorite things about him, his laugh. And the fact that he seemed to find arguing with her as exhilarating (and arousing) as she found it. If they were not careful, they might be found in the gardens if any of his siblings arrived early.
Oh well, she thought. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“It’s probably for the best that they are missing,” Kate said at least. She would let him think he had won. At least for now. “After all, we wouldn’t want one of the servants to be horrified at the fact that we are forcing the Duke and Duchess of Hastings and the Earl and Countess of Kilmartin to submit themselves to such entertainment.”
“Seeing as the Duchess of Hastings and the Countess of Kilmartin are also my sisters, I would disagree with that sentiment” Anthony countered. “And furthermore, since I sat through every one of the Duchess of Hastings and Countess of Kilmartin’s piano recitals, I can assure you that they would have it coming.”
“They could not possibly have been worse,” she laughed, her reminder thick with self deprecation.
“I do not remember either of them being significantly better,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. “Eloise or Hyacinth either.”
Kate laughed at this. He might complain, but even all these years after she first met the Bridgerton family, she knew there was nothing her husband would not do for any of his sisters. Or his brothers.
It was so difficult to stay irritated with him when he talked about his family. Curse him. He probably planned this.
Sometimes it was so troublesome to have a husband who knew her so well.
Then again, she was a wife who knew her husband equally well, and right now Anthony was innocently pretending not to notice that her bemused irritation had been replaced by something else entirely.
Her husband could be so very attractive when he was pretending he wasn’t interested.
So she bridged the short distance between them and kissed him deeply, surprising him by making the first move so quickly.
“Do not think,” she said, coming up for air, “that you have been completely forgiven.”
“There is nothing to be forgiven, dear wife,” Anthony answered quickly before cutting off her means of answering back by kissing her again. “But if there were, I would never dream of being forgiven so easily.”
Kate had nearly forgotten what there may or may not be that must be forgiven when she said, breathlessly, “Of course not,” just as Anthony’s fingers reached the laces of her gown.
She may have claimed he was not completely forgiven, but after that, the instruments were very much forgotten.
They turned up several days later, in the possession of one Edmund Bridgerton.
(Kate pretended not to notice when his father gave him a rather larger allowance when he returned to school after the Easter holidays.)
Fandom: Bridgertons Series - Julia Quinn
Category: Kate/Anthony
Rating: G
Word Count: 1,979
Summary: Kate and Anthony find themselves in a disagreement over their musical instruments.
Notes: Many, many thanks to empressearwig, katayla, and funbol. Written for Mara for Yuletide 2012.
Aubrey Hall
Kent
April 1830
All things considered, Anthony Bridgerton thought himself a relatively intelligent man. He may not have taken any firsts at Oxford, but Anthony didn’t put much stock in that. He was a well-respected and influential member of the House of Lords and had successfully stepped in as head of his extremely large family at the age of eighteen. (And besides, he rather preferred to leave the theoretical mathematics to his friend Simon.)
Yet more important than any of that was the fact that he had chosen a most intelligent woman as his wife. There was nothing quite like a wife who was one’s equal to keep a man’s intellect sharp. Knowing one’s opponent was up to the task made it all the more satisfying when one bested that opponent.
On this particular morning in April, however, Anthony had badly miscalculated. He planned to spend the morning in his study going over the household accounts. He had been putting them off for nearly a week, much preferring to spend his time at Aubrey Hall outdoors with his children (and anywhere with his wife). But it must be done, and since Anthony’s mother and several of his siblings and their families would be descending upon Aubrey Hall for the Easter holiday, Anthony knew there was no putting it off any longer.
It was this, of course, that was the source of his distraction when his wife announced her presence.
“Anthony?”
Kate knocked once at the door of his study before the door creaked open and she stepped inside. (His wife never did wait for an answer. Not that he actually minded, but he would never admit that to her.) She walked to stand behind him, peering over his shoulder when he did not break his concentration, merely uttering “Yes, Kate?” without looking up from his books.
“My dear husband,” Kate said, leaning in and wrapping her arms around him. Her voice lowered and grew softer, and he felt her breath against his neck.
Anthony closed his accounting books. She had his attention now.
“Yes, Kate?” he repeated.
“My dear husband,” Kate began again, this time leaning in to kiss him.
Well, if this was what she had in mind, Anthony supposed the accounting could wait until later. Maybe tomorrow. Or the next day. Surely he would want for an excuse to escape his siblings and their families for a few hours, wouldn’t he?
“Where,” Kate continued, punctuating her words with more kisses, “did you put my flute?”
Oh.
Suddenly Kate was no longer kissing him. She stood behind him, frowning, her arms folded threateningly across her chest.
“I’m sorry?”
Kate quirked an eyebrow in response.
“My flute,” she ground out, “is missing. I would like to know where you put it.”
“It isn’t in the music room?” Anthony asked.
“No.” Kate replied shortly. “If it were in the music room, I would not be in here asking you where you have put it.”
He had not seen her flute since she had last practiced, two days previously. He would not be surprised if she had simply gotten distracted by the children’s game (Edmund and Miles had been tricked into playing hide and seek with Charlotte, and it had gotten rather involved) and had put her instrument away in a place that was not her usual. He would go investigate that later, but he would not suggest that to her now. He found it was never in one’s best interest to suggest such things to one’s wife.
Instead, he simply told her that he had not seen it since she last practiced.
“I thought you might say that,” Kate answered. “I am just here to let you know that I will find it,” she continued, her voice taking on a sweetness that sounded almost threatening. “And when I do, well, then you will be sorry.”
With that, she sauntered out of his study, swinging her hips as she walked.
As threats went, Kate’s was particularly dangerous. He knew there would be no peace at Aubrey Hall once she found her flute again. Especially for any member of the household who happened to be gifted with exceptional hearing.
Anthony coughed to clear his throat. Perhaps he had best go check the music room for her now.
With a threat like that hanging over his head, it wasn’t like he would be able to finish his accountings now anyway.
Later
Kate knew, of course, that she was a truly terrible musician. For her, that was part of the fun of continuing to play, long past the point where others might have given up. She had simply thought she might practice for a few minutes this morning before making sure everything was set for the rest of the Bridgerton family to join them at Aubrey Hall for the next week.
It was clear to her that Anthony must have hidden her instrument to prevent just that from happening. To what end, she was not yet entirely sure, but she never let a challenge from her husband go unanswered. That would be poor form, indeed.
Kate spent several hours over the course of the morning, looking for her flute in all of the usual hiding places (and every unusual hiding place she could think of). But to no avail. Wherever Anthony had hidden it (and she was still sure he had), it was most well-hidden.
In the afternoon, after seeing that everything was prepared for the upcoming Easter visits, Kate abandoned her search for the flute itself, deciding to change tactics and go after the alleged thief instead.
She found her husband with their seven year old daughter Charlotte, out in the gardens. From the look of them, he had just taken her out riding. A fact which Charlotte quickly confirmed, grinning from ear to ear before scampering back towards the house for her afternoon lessons.
Being, of course, her parents’ daughter, Charlotte Bridgerton was no fool. She knew that her father was in trouble and eagerly made her escape. (It wasn’t that her parents ever really fought, but these things frequently ended in kissing, a horror that no seven year old child wished to witness.)
Kate watched her daughter safely back into the house before giving her husband a pointed look.
“You covered your tracks well,” she started sweetly. “It was very clever of you to hide your trumpet as well.”
“I did not hide anything,” Anthony claimed with a shrug of his shoulders. He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. “But I am aware that my trumpet is missing. I checked the music room myself after we spoke this morning.”
“I’m sure you did,” she replied skeptically.
Men, she thought to herself. They think they are so clever. They think we do not notice.
To Anthony, Kate continued, “If you did not hide my flute . . .”
“And my own trumpet,” Anthony added helpfully.
“Yes,” she conceded. “And your trumpet.”
Her husband nodded once assuredly.
“If you did not hide the instruments,” she forged on, “Then who did?”
“Perhaps,” he offered, somewhat reluctantly, “You simply put your flute down in a different place than you usually do?”
Kate’s only response was a glare in his direction.
“Or,” Anthony quickly suggested, “Perhaps one of the maids mistakenly moved the instruments while she was cleaning.”
“It’s possible,” she agreed. “But it isn’t likely. If the instruments were simply moved, they would still be in the music room, and you and I have both checked the room ourselves. We would likely have found them if that were the case.” Kate paused to allow him to consider this. To allow him to think she didn’t know better.
“So,” she continued. “The only explanation is that someone has hidden them. And I know that someone is you, my dear husband.”
He frowned. Ha. That was almost as good as an expression of guilt.
“Is it not possible that someone else has hidden them?” Anthony offered. “With guests coming, perhaps the housekeeper thought hiding our instruments was the best course of action.”
A fair suggestion, of course, but Kate knew better.
“The only way Mrs. Brooks would do that is if one of your siblings bribed her to do so . . .”
“Which we know,” Anthony added helpfully, “Colin, at least, is not opposed to doing.” Under his breath, he muttered, “And I would not put it past the others as well.”
“Colin would not,” Kate said assuredly, trying to hold back a laugh. “He enjoys watching you listen to me play too much.”
“Simon, then.”
Anthony was scrambling, and she was enjoying it all too much.
“Try again,” Kate replied. “Simon would not either. And for much the same reason.”
“He would if Daff asked him to.”
A fair point, but one Kate would not easily concede.
“While I applaud your efforts to incriminate your siblings, dear husband, you must remember that I know you. And I will expose you.”
Anthony laughed. It was one of her favorite things about him, his laugh. And the fact that he seemed to find arguing with her as exhilarating (and arousing) as she found it. If they were not careful, they might be found in the gardens if any of his siblings arrived early.
Oh well, she thought. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“It’s probably for the best that they are missing,” Kate said at least. She would let him think he had won. At least for now. “After all, we wouldn’t want one of the servants to be horrified at the fact that we are forcing the Duke and Duchess of Hastings and the Earl and Countess of Kilmartin to submit themselves to such entertainment.”
“Seeing as the Duchess of Hastings and the Countess of Kilmartin are also my sisters, I would disagree with that sentiment” Anthony countered. “And furthermore, since I sat through every one of the Duchess of Hastings and Countess of Kilmartin’s piano recitals, I can assure you that they would have it coming.”
“They could not possibly have been worse,” she laughed, her reminder thick with self deprecation.
“I do not remember either of them being significantly better,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. “Eloise or Hyacinth either.”
Kate laughed at this. He might complain, but even all these years after she first met the Bridgerton family, she knew there was nothing her husband would not do for any of his sisters. Or his brothers.
It was so difficult to stay irritated with him when he talked about his family. Curse him. He probably planned this.
Sometimes it was so troublesome to have a husband who knew her so well.
Then again, she was a wife who knew her husband equally well, and right now Anthony was innocently pretending not to notice that her bemused irritation had been replaced by something else entirely.
Her husband could be so very attractive when he was pretending he wasn’t interested.
So she bridged the short distance between them and kissed him deeply, surprising him by making the first move so quickly.
“Do not think,” she said, coming up for air, “that you have been completely forgiven.”
“There is nothing to be forgiven, dear wife,” Anthony answered quickly before cutting off her means of answering back by kissing her again. “But if there were, I would never dream of being forgiven so easily.”
Kate had nearly forgotten what there may or may not be that must be forgiven when she said, breathlessly, “Of course not,” just as Anthony’s fingers reached the laces of her gown.
She may have claimed he was not completely forgiven, but after that, the instruments were very much forgotten.
They turned up several days later, in the possession of one Edmund Bridgerton.
(Kate pretended not to notice when his father gave him a rather larger allowance when he returned to school after the Easter holidays.)