Her petite frame was nearly swallowed by that of the ceiling sweeping bookcases, the endless shelves stretching far across the long opposite walls, whilst the old and worn leather bound spines lining them managed to shrink the spacious library. For the tall wooden structures lined with more books than one could possibly read in a single lifetime, combined with the lonely glow of a delicate candlelight illuminating the soft beige walls, made the space feel smaller than it truly was. Shadows of the large fixtures pushed against the walls hovered against the edge of the high ceiling, the candlestick sitting against the smooth surface of the wooden desk sitting in the center of the room, casting a weak flickering light against the towering bookshelves. But as Anthony Bridgerton leaned against the large wooden doorframe, his loosely crossed arm brushing against the now closed door to the library that he had believed to be abandoned, his eyes were entranced by the sight of her body nearly drowning in the sea of literature that surrounded her.

The softest breath of lavender flowed down her frame, the pastel hue gentle as though the delicate petals of a freshly bloomed spring flower. The flickering light of the candle behind her, casted upon the fabric in a timid shadow, making the material that swept just to the ends of her hidden heels glisten in the most innocent of shines. The heat of the light danced against the bare flesh of her exposed neck, glinting only as it touched down upon the delicate sweep of opals wrapped elegantly against the base of her collarbone. Her thick tendrils pinned into an extravagant up do, with embellished pins hidden within her nest of tightly bound curls, holding onto every strand as not to let a single curl fall out of place. Anthony could see from his placement against the door, the way her head was tipped downwards, a book in her hands most likely holding her intent attention. For she hadn't heard him enter the room, even as his fingers closed the door softly behind him with a gentle clasp of the frame. She hadn't heard the way his leather boots skidded for the briefest of seconds as he was taken back by her presence, having believed he had managed to find the one uninhabited room in Bridgerton House. But alas, she stood amongst the sea of stories, so completely entranced in whatever piece had caught her eye, that she hadn't realized he'd been watching her for the past few moments in the comfortable silence.

For the library felt like an oasis amidst a swirling dust storm, a sanctuary of serenity and silence and it was the first moment that Anthony had had all evening to truly hear the thoughts in his own head. For the boisterous hum of the music blaring from his mother's dashing party, was now a distant whisper. Barely a murmur from the violin strings or even a gentle breeze carrying the insufferable cackle of an overbearing mother parading around her eldest daughter. There was a calm and comfort within the quaint wall of the library, that allowed Anthony to inhale his first deep breath of the night. Filling his lungs with the rich scent of worn pages and aromatic leather still clinging to the covers, but as he breathed deeper, there was another scent buried within the atmosphere of the room, one barely noticeable and yet, as it brushed ever so gently against his senses, it pricked his chest with a fiery sensation. For as faint as it was, gone with the second breath he inhaled, the scent of vanilla mixed with heady undertones of lilac, remained burning in his nose.

Holding back an urge to clear his throat in an effort to clear his mind, Anthony looked at her silent frame once more before a sly smirk began to tug at the very corners of his lips. No longer able to withstand the urge to speak up in the void casted within the dense shadowy silence of the library, knowing full well her reaction to not only being caught in a room far from the party but even more so, being sought out by him. For they had met time and time again, each ball or engagement Anthony had found himself at or forced to attend within the last few weeks, she'd been there across the room just as he was. Perhaps it was attributed to the fact that her mother was one of Lady Bridgerton's dearest friends, or maybe it boiled down to Anthony's streak of poor luck. But whatever the reason, their interactions were never ones of enjoyment or even mere cordial conversations. No, events attended with her in the sea of guests, were a matter of enduring the evening and avoiding any possible colliding of presences.

Her bold and blatant tongue, although usually concealed in a charade of elegance and grace, brought the vexation rising in his chest when he was forced to converse with her. He disliked the way she was utterly breathtaking and roused him in ways that forced him to remain uncomfortable for the remainder of the evening, all the while, not wanting to spend a second more in her company. The dislike as mutual, Anthony knew full well, for she never hid it. Even as her words were always respectful and her etiquette was always perfect, she never pretended to enjoy his company. She didn't swoon when he shot her a charming glance from across the room, nor did she long for a moment alone with the Viscount. They were perfectly happy apart, for their personalities and characters simply did not mix, they clashed... strongly.

"I do believe you have managed to find the one room in the entire estate that the party has yet to reach."

Anthony did very little in attempt to conceal the mirth that spread across his tight lipped smile, his brow rising faintly in evident amusement, as he watched her shoulders jump at the startling sound of his abruptly booming voice. Her hands fumbling quickly with the large book nearly shot from her hold in her moment of pure shock, fighting to retain her hold on the book, her fingers curling tighter to the literature, practically hugging the cover to her chest as her heels twirled her around in a blur of lavender to face his direction. Her eyes were wide in surprise, her lips parted in a slight forgotten breath as her sight settled upon his relaxed stance against the doorframe. But Anthony saw the moment the sudden shock left her system and the realization of his company flashed across her mind, for her lips pressed together and her eyelashes fluttered wildly before they returned to their normal slightly narrowed look. The emotion once washed over her face, illuminated in the dimly flickering candlelight, had been collected and smoothed across the now hidden line of her forehead. She looked just as amused as Anthony had anticipated she would be, and something about knowing he could practically predict her every reaction when forced into his presence, fueled his enjoyment in this small moment.

The skirt of her long sweeping gown moved faster than her feet did, twirling and nearly wrapping around her ankles as she broke her eye contact with his intense gaze, and returned her attention back to the vast bookcase in front of her. Watching as her nimble fingers brushed against the row of spines on the fourth shelf, only to pull one end back to slide the book she had been reading back in it's rightful place.

"But you are here as well My Lord," Her voice spoke clearly into the quaint atmosphere lingering between them, her tone strong and unwavering, doing little to show any effect his abrupt presence might have had on her. Her feet turned her around, a simple step with each heel, lifting her gaze to stare straight into the amused glimmer reflecting in the soft swirl of amber in his brown eyes. "am I to assume the party became a touch too boisterous for you as well?"

Anthony's expression remained the same, his brow the only part of his face altering as it lifted a fraction further up as her biting inquiry hit his ears. This woman was the picture of high society. She regarded him as decorum and the ton demanded, she addressed him with the respect he deserved and although her tone with him ran sharp more times than not, she never once disrespected him in the company of others. She was elegant and held herself to high standards, never one to make a scene even when forced to converse with the Viscount for a moment too long. Despite his dislike for the head strong woman who nearly challenged his every movement, Anthony could not be one to deny her beauty. For even as he strived to avoid her company, the glossy fantasy of her body in his bed, wrapped in his sheets and in his arms, her smart mouth finally silenced for once in her life haunted him in ways he despised. How many times Anthony wondered if only her personality was less vexing, would she be a woman he might enjoy enough to court or possibly marry in the future, he wasn't sure. But once her peach pink lips parted and her strongly spoken words fell effortlessly from her quick tongue, all consideration of that notion went soaring through the window.

Pressing his lips together, releasing his hands from the loose cross over his ivory waistcoat, slipping his right hand into his pocket while lifting his left towards his jaw. Running his palm over the skin of jawline, before taking a step or two closer towards her. Anthony realized that he had always simply accepted the fact that she disliked him, and in return, grew used to disliking her own company as well. But he never once took a moment to truly ponder her reason behind such contempt for someone she hardly knew.

Anthony's footsteps stopped as he reached the wooden desk in the center of the room, shortening the space between them to only a few mere feet now, but she didn't make any motion to move. His boots sounded heavily against the hardwood floors, before crossing them at the ankles as his hip leaned leisurely against the edge of the desk. Returning his arms into their loosely crossed placement over his chest, as he lifted a brow in intrigue.

"You do not care much for me, do you?"

Surprise at his sudden inquiry flashed quickly within the deep irises of her eyes, a swift lift of her brow forcing the emotion to gently expand across her face, but even as the unforeseen question lit her expression, her words faltered not a single second. "That is a rather dangerous question, is it not My Lord?"

Anthony simply lifted his shoulder in the swift motion of a shrug, "One I'm hoping you will answer just the same."

Her eyes, bathed in the warm glow of the flickering candlelight, studied him for a short moment. Watching as the flesh between her brows bunched slightly, as her eyes narrowed in skepticism before her lips parted with a cynical response. "Why does my approval suddenly interest you?"

Only in the closer steps he had taken since entering the scarce library, did Anthony realize the tiny details in her facial expressions that he had never seen before. The way her lower lip was much fuller than her top, conveniently allowing her easier access to pull it inward when she was deep in thought. There were faint, barely perceptible if not for the direct cast of light, creases in the corners of her eyes. They were soft against her skin, almost as though gentle paintbrush strokes. And her eyelashes were darker than the shade of her thick tendrils, long sweeps that rapidly blinked as intensely as her personality was. And at the very base of her neck, near the sides where her earrings dangled, loose wispy strands danced ever so gently against her skin. Too short to be pinned back, they hung in breaths of the strands curled above them. There was something about all of these minuet, perhaps unimportant details of her intense and controlled expression however, that humanized her further. Lending a gentleness to her clear strength that in turn, ultimately added to her beauty, Anthony admitted silently to himself.

Her brows raised as she continued to stare at him, awaiting his response as he realized he'd spent a moment too long studying her features in the candlelight glow. Clearing his throat, Anthony shook his head in a swift motion. "I never said that it does, only that I can see very clearly you do not hold me in high regards in the slightest. I only wondered why that might be."

A new depth of silence engulfed the small library, hovering as though a dense fog above the two bodies, as she stared at him with a curious but heavily guarded eye. Her eyelashes swept across her cheekbones with each vicious lash of her quickly blinking eyes, but they never managed to effect the intensity in which she regarded Anthony. Studying him closely, just as he had looked at her only a few moments prior, she searched his face for any evidence that what lay before her was clearly a trap meant for her to fall face first into. But the mischievous nature once spread across his softly shadowed features like that of a roaring wildfire, was extinguished and in its place, resided an even expression across his face. Sparkles of curiosity still evident in the core of his eyes but most emotion had been washed from his facial features, leaving her to believe his sincerity in the question, but remained apprehensive in the thought of answering it.

"Lord Bridgerton,"

Her tone was cautious, a hint of a warning trialing behind his title that fell smoothly from her lips. As though to force him to reconsider a question that required an answer so full of blatant honesty, one in which surely wasn't polite of her to admit in his presence. But as her contradictory filled tone hit his ear, the impish expressions that had once held tightly to his features, slowly returned. Curling his lips upward into a small but visible amused smile, as his brow lifted once again.

"You may call me Anthony, if you would prefer, I do believe we are past introductions, are we not?"

He knew it was as if his charms hit a barrier when aiming to reach her and his simple exudence of dominance triggered something within her. For every time he deployed actions that would simply have any available debutante swooning, it irked her in a way that only made him all the more eager to do it all over again. Even now, in the dim light of the library, he could see the way her eyebrows furrowed and the edges of her lips twitched as though the aversion to his charmed mannerisms left her with an unwelcome taste in her mouth.

Composing herself in the blink of an eye, for she was just as smart as he was Anthony knew full well, she'd seen his little game play. Knowing every move he made, every sentence he spoke, every exhibition of power was merely planned to get under her skin. Clasping her hands in front of her, brushing her softly shining gown with her fingertips, she rose above his roguish ways and faced his initial inquiry with the utmost bravery and clarity she could muster.

"Lord Bridgerton," The patronizing edge in her tone, as she emphasized her use of his title, did not escape him. If anything, it merely fueled the smirk twisting across his lips as he observed her silently. A feeling of slight anticipation soaring through his relaxed stance, as he waited for what she might possible say in rebuttal to his vexing remarks.

"I find you arrogant, unbearably so." In a swift moment, one so quick it nearly made his eyes spin, her metaphorical gloves were off. Her tone was strong and steady, believing every ounce of what she spoke to him now, holding her eye contact with him as her boldness surprised him for a split second. It wasn't that she could never rise to the occasion in the past, rather that she preferred not to engage in such petty behavior. But it seemed now as they stood close in each other's unwanted company, just the two of them, that Anthony Bridgerton had finally pushed her last button and every burning thought of him buried in the crevices of her mind, was released in a confident swoop.

"I find although you are the head of your household and take on your duties with the utmost responsibility, that beneath it all, you are still wildly immature and childish in nature. You toy with people, women above all others. You use them for your selfish and conceited gain, only to spit them back out as though they are nothing at all."

There was something unnervingly alluring about the way she berated him with the utmost sincerity dripping in her perfectly articulated words, her tone unwavering and even with a confidence that did things to his conscious he rather hated to admit. She didn't back down from the fight, she didn't take the high road and simply leave the library with his smirk still hanging against his lips. No, she decided to meet him at his own game or rather, play it better than he had. For everything he said in an effort to poke and prod and get under her skin, was mere enjoyment to him. But this, the way she spoke with such strong conviction and her eye contact with his intent gaze was stone still, spoke of a level of honesty and passion he hadn't realized she possessed.

Gone was the woman he met countless times out on the ballroom floor, in the midst of the ton and their friendly mothers. The one held back by society, unable to spew such blatant honesty in the presence of others. But now, in the privacy of the intimately quiet library, this was the woman beneath the flawlessness and elegance. And it was in that notion, that intruding feeling of unbridled enticement, that caused Anthony's feet to uncross and guide him a step or two closer to her, as her lips parted to speak again.

"My Lord," Anthony didn't stop until the tips of his boots nearly brushed against the fabric of her gown tucking away the pointed tips of her own heels. Stopping only as her breath gently danced against his face in a soft exhale, her eyes staying steady with his as they gazed upward at his hovering stance over her own now, and it only took him a breath to find the familiar intoxicating mixture of a sweet vanilla and floral lilac returning to his senses as their proximity had become closer. She appeared unfazed by his movement, his shadows washing over her like a blanket of nighttime darkness, but even it she had been slightly flustered by his sudden cut in their space apart, she refused to let it be seen by his eyes.

"I find you intimidating and yet, the longer I speak to you, I realize how very shallow your bite truly is. I believe you display an act in your demeanor, an armor you adorn for the rest of the world, afraid to show even the slightest glimpse of yourself in all light. You wrestle with demons far greater than anyone knows of, for I see it in the way the bags beneath your eyes speak of a fortnight since your last deep slumber. But instead of admitting your faults, your shortcomings, or simply asking for help when you need such assistance, you turn to anger and reprieve, retreating from those around you."

Anthony watched as the muscles in her neck flexed ever so faintly, as she swallowed a deep breath. The jewels wrapped securely along the line of her collarbone, still and unmoving even as her chest lifted with her deep breath, while their beauty glittered like a thousand stars as the light of the candle danced across them. The wheels of her thoughts churned for he saw the way they reflected in the glow of her glistening irises, and Anthony knew whatever she had to say next, was something in which she was working up the nerve to divulge.

"You dislike yourself Lord Bridgerton, very much so. You come asking in what regards I truly hold you, my thoughts of you apparently holding no bearing on your mind and yet, you stand closer to me now than you did once before. I think you yearn for the satisfaction of people liking you, My Lord, for you simply do not know how it feels to like yourself."