#omensrage

⍋          there was a ball that night, something violet didn't entirely feel up for. what she wished for instead was a night alone with her husband, dancing the night away somewhere private. somewhere just for them. well, not just the two of them. she was with child, their first, and she was just barely still able to hide her bump under carefully chosen petticoats and hoop skirts. when they were alone in their bed chambers at night and she wore only a thin nightgown it was more obvious. she didn't have to hide from her husband, and she didn't want to. edmund was everything to her, her north star. his statement rang true in more ways than he knew.

he pauses in the doorway, taking a moment to simply watch her as she sits at her desk, scribbling away at some letter or another. but she might have been doing anything and his impulse would remain the same. it had always been this way. from the moment he'd met her that day in the park, wherever she was, his eyes followed. whatever she did was endlessly fascinating.... but now, she is his wife. and he no longer needs to hide what she makes him feel...

a slow smile spreads across his face as he pushes himself off the door frame and crosses to lean easily against the desk. " as much as i admire your dedication to your new duties -- " he reaches out to push a stray curl away from her face. " -- i feel i've hardly seen you all morning. and that is wholly unacceptable, lady bridgerton. "

rory flushes tomato-red at the accusation, all heat in her body finding itself centered at the apples of her cheeks. " do you have proof? " she counters, already finding her footing once more with her old friend, " because, i'm not inclined to believe you without the proper evidence. i'm a journalist, jere. you've gotta present me with cold hard facts. " with that, she grabs a throw pillow off the couch, feigning all innocence, before flinging the thing straight at him with a giggle.

" besides, at least i don't drool in my sleep like you do. and my proof? it's in the pillow. "

‘ here it starts, ’ he said under his breath, though by now matías would have ventured that he was about as easy to persuade to change his mind as gods. ‘ now he tells me what to do. ’

the civilians bustling through the late hours of the city simply curved around the two of them as if they were not there, two invisible forces curated out of their mortal sights entirely. it made the business of glowering down the angel a lot more simply, when it did not attract an atrocious about of attention from busybodies. their stroll through the city is cut short when kenneth's boots halt a few feet away from a road crossing. he whirled on the other man and simmered, faintly, before stabbing his nail into his chest. ‘ well, i don't. i don't change my mind. if that sours you at all, all the better for me. ’