Chapter Text
Frankly, after the near-confession of the last chapter, Adrien truly should have suspected that there would be consequences. One doesn’t reveal personal relations, of any sort, with the heralded “Archangel of Terror” and not expect it to raise eyebrows. Though, of course, there’s always some margin of dramatization, or perhaps nuance, when it comes to such monikers. But that’s, as always, something to expand upon in another chapter.
Regardless, after the events of the day prior, it should be no surprise to anyone, least of all Adrien, when one Anthony Bridgerton appeared after Benedict, who had been with Adrien in the gardens, had to run inside to get a forgotten… something.
“Monsieur de Montfaucon.” the tone is deceptively calm and polite, but the formal usages, well, Adrien hadn’t been away from polite society long enough to note that this mean that this was anything but a social call. Very well, two can play this game.
Adrien put his brush down, “Lord Bridgerton.” He responds in kind.
Anthony, not at all put off by the reciprocated formality, “I hope you will forgive my speaking plainly, Monsieur de Montfaucon.”
“I generally prefer it.” Adrien hums, turning fully towards the other man, hands lacing behind his back, “What can I do for you?”
“My brother appears to think very highly of you.” Anthony pauses, letting the meaning behind the phrase sink in.
Adrien hummed, “He is a discerning man.”
There’s a slight pause, where it becomes clear that the usual role of ‘Intimidating Older Brother and Viscount’ routine is decidedly not going to work in this situation.
“I don’t intend to insult you, Vicomte, but I’m sure you understand the concern that comes with the situation.” Anthony’s drop in a level of formality is not missed, and Adrien offers a small pleasant smile, not necessarily genuine, but not entirely false.
“I gathered that, and I can assure you, I hold no ill intentions towards Benedict, or any of the rest of yours.” Adrien pauses, “He is good company. I enjoy it.”
“So I’ve gathered.”
“He is intelligent. An excellent artist.”
Here, Anthony interrupts the listing of his brother’s good virtue to get at the root of his reason for this particular conversation, “You’ve forgotten handsome.” Throwing that out there, to see what the other will do with it.
He gets his answer when Adrien responds with barely a hesitation, “I had not forgotten.”
A moment of silence follows, as both Viscount and Vicomte process what that particular admission means. Anthony, for having his suspicions confirmed, and Adrien, for finally realizing exactly what the past few weeks have meant, and accepting it, rather than trying to justify his feelings. Shocking, perhaps someone should check to make sure the world hasn’t ended.
Adrien breaks the silence, “I have no intentions of hurting your brother.”
Anthony studies the man for a moment, “Intentions are not always enough.”
“No.” Adrien sighs, “No, they are not.” This is something Adrien is very, very familiar with.
Anthony opens his mouth as if to say something, seems to think for a moment, before, “I remember you.”
Adrien cocks his head slightly, “Pardon?”
“1797. I remember you. I remember the strange French emigre that stayed in Bridgerton house for a few days.” He pauses, “I don’t think Benedict does, but I do.”
Adrien hums, “Yes… Your parents were kind enough to give me a place to stay. Your father funded my studio, the first few months.”
Anthony nods, “You were a different person, then. Now, well, it seems the years have done you good.”
“For all its flaws, England has been welcoming. I can promise that the angry young man you remember is no longer who I am.” Here, Adrien fully locks gazes with the other, “I do not make promises easily, but this is one I can make.”
The statement seems to take a weight off of Anthony’s shoulders, tension leaving, and the air becomes less stiff surrounding them. “I am glad.” Anthony finally says, “But I do ask you to be careful.” He seems genuinely concerned, not just for Benedict at this point, “Though we may be accepting on the subject of love… The rest of England is not.”
Here Adrien interrupts, “I would not wish to subject Benedict to the slander that the press is capable of spewing.” A sharper man would spy the ever so subtle change in inflection in Adrien’s tone. So very small, but present. Something suggesting that the Vicomte had more experience with said press than he let on. “Discretion, of course, is key.”
Anthony nods, and appears to be about to continue when the sound of footsteps begin to echo down, alerting the two towards Benedict’s returning presence.
Benedict, blissfully unaware that he had missed an entire conversation of considerable importance to his future, returned to find the Viscount and Vicomte standing together in what appeared to be a state of mutual civility. This, dear reader, was progress. Whether it was the sort of progress that would survive Benedict opening his mouth remained to be seen.