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Oh no! Ooohh no! Kate reached for her son and pulled him into her arms. "I know, it hurts!" She felt her heart beating harder. She was nervous she would admit, and trying to remain calm. Yet her heart was beating harder then it had before. Not for her, but her son. And for her husband.

You see, Kate knew that there was not much Anthony Bridgerton feared. He had dueled, he had faced evil suitors, and sickness. Yet when it came to his family he knew what loss was and feared it. He had lost his father, Edmund, to a bee sting. And now, his almost two year old son had his first bee sting. His son that was named for his fallen father!

Kate wondered if he too would fall pray to the sting as his grandfather had?! Looking up at the gardener, who did not seem to know why the child was crying. "Fetch Lord Bridgerton! With all haste!" She knew that it might be best if she hid this from him. Yet she also knew that if anyone would know what to do it would be Anthony. Maybe her son would be like her, and it would do nothing. However . . . if she was wrong . . .

Lifting his arm she did as Anthony had done that once and tried to soak up the venom with her handkerchief. "You will be fine, my love." She told him, and noticed that he was not even trying any more. While there was a small welt, nothing seemed amiss. He did not feel warm, he was babbling about 'bad bee' and holding her with a firm grip. Her fears began to slow. It did not seem that he would fall pray to the sting. "Oh Edmund," she sighed, placing a linger kiss on his dark hair. Perhaps she should have not called Anthony so quickly. She could have spared all three of them what was about to happen next.

Yes, Kate knew why. She knew what he thought about this birthday, and she had even pointed out once, very early in their marriage that they could have years together in happiness--and they had! She knew that Anthony would not die, but had come to understand that he would always fear it until it was behind him. That she could use words to make him see reason, but instead had to keep him on the track to his own happiness.

"Yes, I know, but I still wish you hear you say it." Because when they did not speak of their fears, they hunted them. She would not have them hide from this, but instead face it together.

They must be ready. So ominous. "Yes, a baby. Our yearly pall mall game in the spring. You mother's birthday as well coming up. If you are proven true our first daughter will be a hand full with so many brothers." The good time, my love, she thought to him. "So for however long this year last--" he seemed to always treat it as if it was tomorrow, when she knew (and prayed) that it was longer. "--we shall find joy."

Daphne had taught her somewhat of what setting the course meant, so Kate knew how she wanted to make it. Everyone single one of them were going to face the water so if he hit it too hard . . . bye bye black ball.

Yet, she was distracted by his nearness. The smell of him here in the shed. The way she wanted him to kis--and he led them out of the shed. Unkissed. Kate wondered if he was making the best of things since getting caught, or if he still regretted not getting to wed Edwina. She was going to try to make the best of things, however, she had wanted to marry him. Only not by trapping him.

"I shall set the course then. Do that I may claim my prize." Turning she picked up the wickets, and then looked back at him. "You never did say what you're prize might be." While waiting for a response--if there would be one--she begin setting up what she assumed would be a hard course, having them face roots, trees, and of course the water.

Wait. ten. minutes. It annoyed her, but perhaps he was doing something important. She could understand that, since he was known for being fair and hard working. He better be doing something important!

When ten had passed, she stood up and walked to the door. The secretary--or bad guard dog--stood to tell her he would see if his master was ready, but Kate walked in quicker then he and straight to the desk. He did not bother looking up and she feared she made a mistake already. Then the head of thick dark hair looked up and she blinked. He was younger then she assumed. She had pictured a portly older man with a wig and robe on. Bridgerton (she assumed) was not portly, not old, and not wearing a wig and robe. Rather he had dark features, and a fit frame.

Oh! And he was asking for her name. "Miss Sharma. Kate Sharma." She gave it too him. "I am here to ask for your help." While she was 'asking' her voice was direct and with purpose.

But not that it happened. Darn it Kate! Priorities! She was sorry . . . She was very sorry that . . . was she? YEsss . . . of--of course she was sorry that it happened! And that it ended. And that Anthony just LEFT her there! The maddening man!

She said nothing as he asked a question that had anyone else asked, would have gotten a bit of Kate temper in the answer. Yet it was Benedict. The man Anthony has been pushing her to marry. Pushing them both to marry. Would he still?

"Yes," she said softly, looking down at her dress and pretended to brush something off of it. Not to be a coward, she looked back up at him. It was a bit easier as he wasn't making eye contact with her. "It was the first." ONLY! "The only!" Better. "and unexpected."

She would not blame all on herself to save Anthony from his own brother, but she also needed to own up to her part. "I can be vexing around him. I lost my head. I had not meant to hurt you." He had pointed out before that she had not apologized for doing it. And she still had not. Because of Kate was honest with herself--she wasn't. She wasn't sorry. And she hated that she wasn't.

One moment Anthonyhad her body signing and feeling things that Kate Sharma had not thought one could feel. Anthony had awoken her as to why people came to this place, and sought out others like they did. He had made her burn and tense with a feeling that something was about to happen, and she knew--somehow she just knew it would be the best feeling of her life.

And then he removed his lips, and his touch. While still holding her, he was pulling away. Leaving her clothes, and hair, and lips, and mostly her emotions in disheveled meant. The feeling of something now slowly edged off and left her feeling an ache she didn't understand.

Yet her mind was clearing too. She was here with Anthony. She was--he was touching--with his lips . . . and she hated to admit that she had more then liked it. That if he did it again she wouldn't stop him. "I do not---I do not understand." She whispered softly into the space that was between them, lowing her legs to free him.