#*my wips

Anthony settled into married life with Kate far too easily - even before they were truly married under the eyes of God and the law. During their courtship, which he had complained was far too long (he’d already proposed to her in the Featheringtons’ garden, why did he need to wait two weeks to formally propose, and another two weeks after that for the wedding?) and Lady Danbury had complained was far too short, he’d practically had to be dragged away from her at the end of a promenade, a ball, a boat ride, a dinner… the list went on. He was simply so drawn to his future wife that he considered her to be addictive - which was why he was currently shoving his tongue down her throat as his body trapped her against the desk in his study, with the illumination of the setting sun in the windows behind them serving as a firm reminder that dinner was soon to be served.

Kate had entered the Bridgerton residence just a half-hour prior, under the guise of completing a few menial wedding tasks with her future mother-in-law - Anthony had assured his mother that he did not need to be there when they chose the script that was to be used on the invitations, or the exact combinations of the flowers in Kate’s bouquet (his only requirements were lilies and tulips, he really did not care, or know, what else would fit nicely with those specific plant species). He didn’t doubt that the two women had quickly come to some sort of agreement, either on script or plant species - or both, because not a quarter of an hour later had Kate covertly knocked on the door of his study, which Anthony had quickly opened, ushered her inside, slammed, and promptly locked.

They had stared at each other for a long moment, Anthony’s left hand tap-tap-tapping on the corner of his desk in anticipation as he stood next to it, near the door, and Kate a foot away from him, in front of the door.

“I assume you at least decided on the flowers?” He’d finally asked. “My mother is especially wise and all-knowing when it concerns plants and their meanings.”

“Oh, most definitely.” Kate had nodded. “There were a few we thought matched best with your choices.”

Anthony had nodded in reply, suddenly growing increasingly restless. They’d had a few rendezvous recently - behind the stands at Ascot, near a tree deep in the park in the morning - but never in a room. Especially a locked one. And Anthony’s mind had begun to whirl.

“Would you care to tell your betrothed what you chose?” He’d inquired, ceasing the tapping of his fingers against the smooth wood. “Please, enlighten me.”

—