Aurelia stormed down the corridor, her rage fuming off her like steam rising from a hot spring. Her hands were balled up into fists and her arms swung as she marched, her nails digging into her palms. It was humiliating enough that she'd been forced to apologise to Anthony in front of an audience, but to do so in such an intimate format made her skin crawl. It only made matters worse that she knew he was going to enjoy watching her squirm through a second apology.

She planned to do it quick and fast, blurt it all out in one sentence and then make a speedy exit. The longer she lingered in the room, the more she became aggravated by his presence. A rapid apology didn't give him a chance to infuriate her with his stupid smirk or arrogant bravado.

Every door was closed on the second-floor bar one, and the faint sound of crackling wood from a fireplace echoed from within. Anthony had to be in there, it was either him or a servant tending to the flames.

Aurelia placed her hand against the wooden door and peered into the room. Anthony stood gazing up at a portrait of the late Viscount Bridgerton above the fireplace, leaning back against the desk, his arms crossed as he held a small glass of whiskey in his hand. He'd taken off his dinner jacket, leaving on his waistcoat and white shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He pressed the side of the glass to his lips, deep in thought.

For a second, though she would never admit it to anyone, Aurelia pitied him. He'd been thrust into his new life, unprepared and without any warning. He'd been left in charge of a family of nine, including himself, and very little guidance on what he was expected to do with them. In the light of the fire and the shadows of the room, he looked like the teenage boy he was before she left for Italy. Scared and lost, seeking help from his father. He needed it now more than ever.

Deciding to stick to her plan, Aurelia knocked lightly on the door to get her apology over with.

Anthony's head jolted in her direction, the red stains from tears in his eyes visible even in the firelight. He'd been crying. "What are you doing in here?"

The venom in his voice caught her by surprise, so much so that she stuttered. "I - I'm looking for you."

"Come to humiliate me more, have you?" He scoffed, a sad smile rippling across his face. "Did you not get your fill at the Danbury ball or at dinner?"

Aurelia could feel her irritation boiling up inside of her, but she managed to keep it under control. Stepping fully into the room, she replied, "I came to...apologies." Her statement made her stomach tie itself in knots.

"Well," Anthony smirked, placing his glass down on the desk beside him, "this should be interesting."

Aurelia had to bite back the rude retort and focus on what she came to do. "It was my mama's idea."

Anthony folded his arms across his chest once more and swivelled around to face her, a coy spark twinkling in his eyes. "You always did follow your mother's orders."

It was only a small jab, but big enough for her to forget her preplanned polite manners. "Trust me, I have nothing to be sorry for. In fact, I feel you should be the one apologising to me."

Anthony laughed. "Whatever for?"

"For provoking me," She rebuked, practically stamping her foot like a child. "I would have never said those words if you hadn't aggravated me in the first place. If I ever have to endure your company again, I would politely ask you to keep things civil."

Her request was empty, she never planned on spending another second in Anthony Bridgerton's presence again.

"Why would I," He questioned, "when 'provoking' you comes so easily?"

Aurelia wanted it hit him, square in the jaw just like her brother taught her two summers ago. "I was right, you are an arse." She was certain the word had been formed solely for the purpose of describing him. "I am not sorry for speaking my mind at dinner. Hopefully, next time your mother extends an invitation you won't be here."

Not just in London, preferably out of the country too.

As her anger morphed into bravery, she dared to take a few steps closer to him, preparing for her words to pack a punch. "After six years, I thought we might have grown past this childish repour from our youth, but you've made it quite clear that you will never reach any level of maturity required of your new title. Your mother was correct in her thoughts, your father would be disappointed."

"And what do you know of my father?" He barked, standing up from his desk. A tactic to intimidate her, no doubt, but even if he did tower over her by a few inches, she did not back down.

"That he was a good man," She answered firmly, "A strong, caring man, who would never do anything to hurt anyone, whether he held them close or not. I count myself very fortunate to have met him. I wonder if people will think the same of you."

Twirling on her heels, she strutted toward his office door, daring to turn her back on the now equally seething Anthony. She was shocked he didn't have another witty remark lined up, leaving her in silence, but she didn't have the time nor energy to continue their argument. It was put to rest.

She placed her hand on the door's handle, ready to make her exit, when suddenly it was slammed shut before her. The force was enough to drag her forwards, forcing the side of her shoulder into the wooden surface with a thud. Whipping her head over her shoulder, she was met by the threatening glare of Anthony Bridgerton.

"You can not speak so ill of me in my own house," He hissed. His arm was stretched out over Aurelia's shoulder, his palm pressing firmly on the door's surface, trapping her in place.

Her breath hitched at the proximity of him, their bodies and faces too closer to be considered a proper distance, her skin burning under the anger in his stare. She had to plunk the courage out of thin air to not allow him to waver her composure.

"Stop me," She managed to bite back.

"Is that a request, Miss Bradford?" He snarled, his eyes narrowing. Aurelia didn't move, she couldn't, he'd given her no means of escape. "How would your father react if he heard you? Luckily for him, he is away on business and is oblivious to your shame."

Shame? That was righteous coming from him, She gawked at his ignorance. There was truly no one more self-involved than he was. He was nothing more than a pathetic child playing at Viscount, she refused to let him walk all over her.

Tilting her head upwards, challenging his piercing gaze. "My father taught me to stand up to idiots who thought they control how I think and feel."

Anthony had no words. He stood in silence, his breath heavy on her face. Aurelia tried to hide the shiver it sent down her spine, but Anthony was too consumed with rage that he did not notice it.

Cautious of his silence, she spoke with a calm but firm voice, "I wish to take my leave, my lord."

For a moment, he didn't move. He remained fixed in place, his eyes still locked onto hers, with the same anger boiling inside them. Aurelia didn't back down, she held his glare until he agreed to let her go. It wasn't until a spark of shame glinted in his eyes that he removed his arm and took a step back from the door.

Aurelia waited for some distance, she had to be certain he wouldn't try the same trick again before she made her move. Only seconds passed, but they felt like hours as the two of them lingered in complete quiet.

Once she knew the coast was clear, she turned the handle and opened the door. "Thank you."

She wanted to run - sprint down the corridors - to distance herself from the boy. He shouldn't have done that, what if someone had walked in of them? She would be publically humiliated, shamed in front of the entire ton, her name stained for the rest of her life. He didn't understand what he was doing, he didn't have to worry about his actions when it came to relations outside of a marriage, for him it didn't matter. He had his title, no mama or potential wife would care.

Yet, even with every rational thought in her head telling her to push him away, to stop him before they were caught, in a small, deep part of her mind, she didn't want him to. He'd trapped her with his gaze, his breath still lingered on her skin like a ghost, and the heat from his stare still burned her cheeks.

She didn't know who she was more infuriated with; Anthony for driving her so crazy that she could think straight, or herself for allowing him to stir up such a reaction.

She'd been right, he was an arse. No matter how entrancing his gaze was.