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Grosvenor Square, 1813.

Dearest reader, the time
has come to place our bets

for the upcoming social season.

Consider the household of
the Baron Featherington.

Three misses foisted
upon the marriage market

like sorrowful sows
by their tasteless...

- Tighter.
- ... tactless mama.

- Tighter!
- Is she to breathe, Mama?

I was able to squeeze my waist into
the size of an orange and a half

when I was Prudence's age.

Your sister shall do the same.

Far better odds might exist

in the household of the
widowed Viscountess Bridgerton.

A shockingly prolific family,

noted for its bounty of
perfectly handsome sons

and perfectly beautiful daughters.

I am already roasting.

Are you to complain
the entire day, Eloise?

Surely I cannot be expected to
bear these fashions the entire day.

I feel like a princess.
Do I look like one?

Do you truly wish to know
what I think you look like?

- On your left!
- Oh, Gregory!

Is our dear sister still not ready?

She's only been readying
herself the entire night.

You mean her entire life.

I shall run upstairs
and hasten her along.

- Colin, wait. I'll do it.
- She likes me better than you, Benedict.

- Did she say that?
- Everyone says that.

Daphne!

You must make haste!

Should you think she heard me?

How very perfect, indeed!

Stop it.

If you don't hurry up,
we're going to be late.

Any sign of him yet?

Should your brother wish to
be obeyed as Lord Bridgerton,

he must act as Lord Bridgerton.

Where is he, Benedict?

I do not know.

Hmm.

- Anthony! You are here.
- Of course I am here, Sister.

I'd never miss such an important
day for you and our family.

No, you would just be late for it.

Shall we?

Today is a most important day,

and for some a terrifying one,

for today is the day

London's marriage-minded
misses are presented

to Her Majesty the Queen.

May God have mercy on their souls.

Miss Prudence Featherington,

Miss Philipa Featherington,

and Miss Penelope Featherington...

all presented by their mother, the
Right Honorable Lady Featherington.

It is only the queen's
eye that matters today.

A glimmer of displeasure...

... and a young lady's value
plummets to unthinkable depths.

Miss Daphne Bridgerton,

presented by her mother,

the Right Honorable, the
Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton.

Flawless, my dear.

- Did that truly just happen?
- Keep smiling, dearest.

They are watching you...

now more than ever.

But as we know, the
brighter a lady shines,

the faster she may burn.

It has been said that,

"Of all bitches dead or alive,

a scribbling woman is the most canine."

If that should be true,

then this author would
like to show you her teeth.

My name is Lady Whistledown.

You do not know me, and rest
assured, you never shall.

But be forewarned, dear reader,

I certainly know you.

You absolutely sparkled, Sister.

Come, now. I merely simpered and minced

in a pretty dress like everyone else.

Not exactly like everyone else.

Oh, I shall need to go
and visit with Penelope.

Her presentation was anything but...

What was it the queen called you again?

Flawless...

or some such thing.

Trust I was astonished
Her Majesty offered me,

out of 200 young ladies
present, a most gracious remark.

Yes, it was quite a distinction.

And now 200 young ladies
have a common adversary.

- I wish you luck, Sister.
- Eloise!

What? It is true.

My success on the marriage mart
influences all of your prospects.

We will all need to find love one day.

Indeed, a love as pure as
what Mama and Papa once shared,

if we are so fortunate.

I merely hope I am able to
continue such a grand tradition.

Your dresses have arrived.

Oh!

Oh!

This one is quite ravishing.

Mary Edgecombe wore a
similar shade last season.

And secured three offers the
very next day, one from an earl.

Mary Edgecombe, now
the Countess of Fulton,

apparently spent the last
year living in a cottage

hundreds of miles away from her earl.

She is miserable. It says it all here.

Do not tell me that is
yet another scandal sheet.

- Eloise...
- No, no, this one is different.

This one lists subjects
by name, in full.

- Let me see!
- Wait. Wait!

- "Lady Whistledown."
- "Lady Whistledown"?

- The author.
- Do we know a Lady Whistledown?

Surely Lady Whistledown
cannot be her true name.

What does it say, dearest?

She loathes the fact that
we've been named alphabetically,

oldest to youngest.

- Your father and I found it orderly.
- Lady Whistledown finds "banality."

The papers were distributed
across town today without charge.

Without charge? What kind of author...

Well, at least she has one thing right.

She has named Daphne as
the season's Incomparable.

She calls you a "diamond
of the first water."

Well, how lovely!

I should not be surprised

if this Whistledown is revealed
to be Violet Bridgerton herself.

These pages certainly report
on the viscountess's family

with much indulgence, indeed.

The pages report nothing but
the truth, Lady Featherington.

Daphne has bloomed exquisitely,

and the sooner she is
taken from the market,

the better for the other young ladies...

even ones prone to hysterics
in front of the queen.

Ladies, hurry with your miniatures
before our guest arrives.

And, Penelope, put
down that book at once.

You shall confuse your thoughts.

So...

tell me about this cousin.

Joining you for the entire season?

She is a distant cousin of my husband,

and with no close female
relative to sponsor her debut,

Lord Featherington has directed
me to take her in for charity.

Hmm. You are known to
be quite charitable.

Precisely what this new
rumormonger should have published,

instead of erroneously specifying

that I shall only have three young
ladies under my care this year.

She knows nothing.

Unless you shall like to have only
three young ladies under your care.

I should gladly sit this season out.

Penelope is quite nervous. This
shall be her very first season.

I am not nervous, Mama.

What she is is two stone
heavier than she ought to be.

Mm, those blemishes on her face
are quite difficult to conceal.

Perhaps some arsenic
and lead might help.

Should you allow me
to delay only a year,

just as Lady Bridgerton
has done for Eloise,

I may remain dedicated
to my studies, perhaps.

The answer is no, Penelope.

You may wish to listen to her, my lady.

Shepherding four young ladies

through these endless rounds
of affairs at the same time...

Can you imagine the competition?

Well, how much competition
can this cousin provoke?

She came of age on a farm, she
has a mere four-figure dowry,

and as for her appearance...

Well, let us hope Miss
Thompson is more presentable

than the legions of unkempt animals
she has spent her entire life

- tending to back home.
- Mm.

Lord Featherington's
cousin has arrived, madam.

Now, remember to be kind, ladies...

and charitable.

The poor are our burden.

Oh!

She's beautiful.

Good afternoon, Lady Featherington.

Well, if this is not a
sight for my sore eyes!

My condolences, Your
Grace, for your father.

- Very kind of you.
- Kind of me?

You hated the man.

It is so wonderful to
see you, Lady Danbury.

Words I do not hear often enough.

Come.

You must excuse the, uh, disorderliness.

- As you know, I'm to host a ball this evening.
- Yes.

I have managed to keep the
details of your return quiet.

But when those vulgar mamas discover

that there is an eligible
duke present at tonight's fete,

I shall be able to keep
such a secret no longer.

That is what I was hoping to discuss.

I have only returned to London to
deal with my late father's affairs.

I'm afraid it leaves me
no time to... socialize.

And so, whilst I appreciate
your most gracious invitation,

Lady Danbury, I must ask
you to accept my regrets.

Your regrets...

are denied.

- I suppose a brief appearance...
- Excellent.

You may leave that
flask you carry at home.

Most undignified.

Someone may hear us, my lord.

Mm.

One day, I shall seize that watch
and take it apart bit by bit.

That belonged to my father.

Should it disappear,
I would miss it sadly.

Then you shall know
precisely how I feel...

every time you disappear.

Stay with me today.

I'm afraid I cannot.

Mm.

I must chaperone my sister at
the Danbury ball this evening.

- Daphne, yes?
- Mm.

What might they be like,

these grand affairs
your sister must attend?

You... would hate them.

Every eligible lady of breeding

dressed in some lavishly trimmed frock,

bloodthirsty mamas at their sides...

... and wary fathers making arrangements

for only the most
advantageous of matches.

And of course, without my father here,

that responsibility... falls upon me.

A significant duty, no doubt.

Someone must guard my poor
sister from the bucks and pinks,

ensure her virtue remains
free of any kind of defilement.

Daphne is fortunate.

Every woman is not afforded
such gallant protection.

Every woman is not a lady.

Of course not, my lord.

Siena.

Hey.

You have me...

protecting you too.

I will always protect you.

The season's opening
ball at Danbury House

is a most highly sought-after
invitation, indeed,

for every darling debutante

from Park Lane to Regent
Street will be on display.

Titled, chaste, and innocent,

this is what they have been
raised and trained for since birth.

Tonight, we shall discover

which young ladies might
succeed at securing a match,

thereby avoiding the dreadful,

dismal condition known
as "the spinster."

Oh, I do love to dance.

Do you like my flower? We grow
them in our very own garden.

I must show you my watercolors
sometime, if you desire to see them.

And she is quite proficient
on the pianoforte too.

Is that not the young lady

who was caught with
her gentleman last year

in Lady Mottram's
conservatory, unchaperoned?

She's lucky her gentleman
agreed to a hasty marriage

after she went and ruined herself.

Lightskirts.

They're all staring, Mother.

Allow them to come to you, dearest.

Oh!

Look who's already setting
his cap at Miss Bridgerton.

Lady Bridgerton, Miss Bridgerton.

Lord Bridgerton.

I believe you have
already been introduced

to my daughter Daphne, Lord Ambrose.

Uh, yes. We met at your brother's levee.

If I recall, my lord, you had just
won your first race at Newmarket.

His first and only, I believe.

Well, in that case,

let us hope his lordship has
found himself a new horse.

I haven't had the pleasure of seeing
you at our club lately, Ambrose.

Should it have anything to
do with the unpaid balance

you left on our betting
books winter last?

Ambrose is a cheat.

A man of any honor ensures
his debts are fully paid.

I did not realize...

Well, how could you have done? It
is the very reason I am here, Sister.

Let us take a turn about the room.

He is rather pleasing.

He is rather here to shuffle
about hunting fortunes.

Trust Mr. Lewis knows
of your sizable dowry.

Leave him be.

- I presume you know of him too?
- Mr. Worthington. Second son.

We shall find better.

He is of dubious parentage.

I shall not have you making a
life with a poet, heaven forbid.

Nor an eccentric.

My word!

Anthony! Daph!

If the only gentlemen present
this evening are your brothers,

then we're in a great
deal of trouble, indeed.

You continue to say "we."

Did Mother tell you yet? About
my tour? I'm to begin in Greece.

- Greece? How adventurous, Colin!
- On guard!

Too late.

I already noted you.

- Lady Danbury.
- Good evening.

Miss Bridgerton, you look
rather lovely this evening.

Is there a reason I've yet
to see you on the dance floor?

All in good time, Lady Danbury.

You poor thing.

Who is that?

I'm sure I've never seen her.

Miss Marina Thompson, a
distant cousin of my husband's.

She's rather dowdy, is she not?

One of the Bridgerton
boys is joining the swarm.

Well!

Most telling!

I imagine your household will be
a hive of callers in the morning...

Lady Featherington.

Where one suitor goes, the
rest will surely follow.

Excuse me.

There.

The duke. I would
recognize him anywhere.

- Mama, where are you taking us?
- To meet the duke.

That man is not in our miniatures.

Make haste before he
should see Miss Thompson.

Your Grace.

Let me introduce my daughters,
Miss Prudence Featherington,

Miss Philipa Featherington.

I'm quite parched.

I shall fetch you a glass of lemonade.

No. You have already done
so much for me tonight.

I shall return in a mere moment.

Good evening.

Small glasses.

- Lord Berbrooke.
- Tiny little things, are they not?

The glasses? I suppose.

Then the matter is settled.

I'm not entirely sure the matter
in which we discuss, my lord.

You've always amused
me, Miss Bridgerton,

ever since I was a
schoolboy, and you were...

All but... five?

My brother, he summons me.

- Ah.
- Adieu.

Miss Bridgerton?

A moment, please!

Miss Bridgerton?

Oh!

- Pardon me.
- Forgive me.

Ah, yes. Wait just
one second, thank you.

Tell me your name.

- Your name, sir?
- Am I honestly to believe

you do not already know my name?

One moment. Yes, yes. Oh, hello.

If you desired an introduction, madam,

I do believe accosting me to
be the least civilized of ways.

Accosting you?

Truly, they will try anything.

Sir, that is not...

This is not...

- What is your name?
- Basset.

Basset!

- Bridgerton!
- Come here, old friend!

I heard news of your father.

- Deuce take it, you are no longer Basset.
- I shall...

Hastings! The Duke of Hastings,
now known for evermore.

The Duke of Hastings, is it?

- Right, Hastings, this is my sister.
- Your sister?

Daphne, Hastings and I know each
other from our days at Oxford,

days we shall not soon forget.

Yes. As I am well aware of
the company you keep, brother,

I am certain your days with His
Grace were most civilized, indeed.

Hastings, we shall need
to get together properly.

- I expect to see you at our club, then.
- Indeed.

Evening, Bridgerton.

Miss Bridgerton.

Daphne, I believe Lord Wetherby
is looking for you to dance.

- Is he?
- If only it weren't time for us to retire.

Daphne's anything but
weary. I shall stay with her.

- That would be lovely.
- Daphne...

there is nary a gentleman here
who would not take your hand.

You must think about this.

The most perfect thing
to do now is not to dance,

but to leave them all wanting more.

If anyone knows how this works,

it is your eldest brother.

Perhaps he is right.

Let us go.

Miss! You've already awakened!

Have Cook prepare as many
biscuits as he can this morning.

Perhaps we might move a few extra
chairs into the drawing room too.

I do wonder which gentleman
will be the very first to call.

I have so much to ask of them all.

Well, let us get you dressed.

Anthony!

I did not expect to see
you here this morning.

It is terribly early for you, dearest.

I could not sleep for some reason.
All the excitement, I presume.

Am I the first gentleman to arrive?

How wonderful!

Callers, ma'am. The Earl of
Stafford and the Marquess of Finley.

My word! Well, you should have
my colorful fashions to thank.

For a Miss Marina Thompson.

Dearest reader, this
author finds herself

compelled to share the
most curious of news.

And do you have a large
family, too, my lord?

It seems our diamond
requires a closer inspection.

Is there a problem, Lord Bridgerton?

I should think so. You are in my seat.

As such, an even rarer jewel

of only the most remarkable brilliance,

fire, and luster has been unearthed.

Her name, unknown to most,
yet soon known to all,

is Miss Marina Thompson.

Should you not be out on your
daily walk about the square, dear?

It appears as though it may rain.

This author is left to wonder
whether Her Majesty might reconsider

the high praise she once
afforded Miss Bridgerton...

for we all must know what the
queen despises more than anything...

Being wrong.

And the drawing room at Bridgerton House

currently appears to be emptier

than the muddled head of
her dearest King George.

Well, I must be off to my club, then.

Sisters. Mother.

It follows that Lady Featherington

is to receive what
she has always desired:

the season's true Incomparable
living under her own roof.

She must be overjoyed.

Is Miss Thompson so high in her instep

that she's unable to
don her own slippers?

I should think not.

Has anyone else read what Lady
Whistledown has written of late?

Should anyone pay any heed to what
Lady Whistledown writes of late?

I certainly do not.

Mama, perhaps we might attend the
upcoming Salisbury ball by ourselves

and the Merriweather tea too.

I believe that Anthony has already
replied on our behalf, dearest.

Apparently, he has managed our
social calendar through June.

He'll be there for the entire season?

Lady Whistledown has made her opinion

of our dear sister's
fortunes quite clear.

Oh, enough about Lady Whistledown!

A caller for Miss Bridgerton.

Oh!

The Lord Berbrooke.

Lord Berbrooke.

Um... Uh... Come in!

May I help you to some
freshly prepared biscuits?

Eloise, allow some room
for his lordship, will you?

Eloise, are you not due for a
visit with Penelope this morning?

- I believe I should like to stay.
- I believe you should like to go.

Forgive me for not calling sooner.

I presumed your affections
were already engaged.

Now I know.

You and I were destined for each other.

And so, by Heaven, your love may burn

from the depths of my soul.

'Tis thee I shall earn.

Wonderful, wonderful. Gentlemen,
thank you for your calls.

Do not forget to bid Prudence, Philipa,

or even Penelope farewell as you go.

- A most wretched sonnet, indeed.
- Lord Byron he is not.

I do not believe so. Good day, Pen.

Lord Berbrooke is harmless.
There will be others.

Lady Whistledown has all
but declared me ineligible...

worthy of the affection
of a detestable simpleton

and no one else.

Tell me, what others should
ever want such damaged goods now?

You speak as if Lady Whistledown

were to be held in higher regard
than Her Majesty the Queen herself.

You give far too much credit
to some anonymous scribbler.

These musings, they're not true.

Only they are true, Brother,
and they are true because of you.

You have managed to scare
every worthy suitor away.

Whistledown has merely reported it.

I am looking out for
you. I am protecting you.

- It is my duty.
- And what of my duty?

You have no idea what
it is to be a woman...

what it might feel like

to have one's entire life
reduced to a single moment.

This is all I have been raised for.

This... is all I am.

I have no other value.

If I am unable to find a
husband, I shall be worthless.

Daphne, you're a Bridgerton.

It would be easier if I were not.

Go on.

Ambitious mamas rejoice,

for the new Duke of Hastings

continues to grace our
fair city with his presence.

And, oh, what an
impressive presence it is!

Lady Whistledown has written
about you again, Your Grace.

Would you like to read it?

It should be noted

that the duke has been overheard
announcing to mamas everywhere

that he has no plans of ever marrying.

This author wonders

which brazen matchmaker shall
rise to such a challenge,

for this competition is well underway.

You know, I do suppose

if it were not for an overzealous
mother at every corner,

this time of year in the city
would not be so very dreadful.

Those mothers simply want the
same as you, I rather think.

For every last one of them to choke
on their daughters' hair ribbons?

For you to claim a wife, Hastings.

Are you not planning on
taking your place in society

when you have a dukedom?

I have a title, which, as far as
I'm concerned, will end with me.

- But Hastings...
- Stop calling me that.

It was my father's name. Never mine.

And in any case, what of you?

- What of me?
- You are the firstborn Bridgerton

of a firstborn Bridgerton,

nine times over. Where is your wife?

Right away, sir.

Oh! Is your plan to fuck
her forever, your mistress?

You shall need to sire an heir.

I'm in possession of
something that you are not.

Brothers.

It has reached my ears

that Mr. Colin Bridgerton shall
be awarded the year's grand prize

when he sweeps Miss Thompson off
her pretty little slippered feet.

You could always send the
willow back to that farm, madam.

As if Lord Featherington
would ever allow that.

In other news,

a most peculiar suitor for Miss
Daphne Bridgerton has emerged.

Daphne...

Your caller.

Will it be just the two of us...

yet again?

- Our box, Mama?
- Mm-hmm.

Lady Bridgerton!

Do join us.

Your Majesty, good evening.

You must remember my daughter, Daphne.

Yes.

She made quite an impression...

however fleeting it may have been.

I would like to welcome you
both to my box this evening.

I insist.

They are saying her husband will
not live till the end of the month.

Surely another rumor provided

by that vicious,
scandal-mongering writer.

Should her degradation know no bounds?

Lady Whistledown writes
about my family too.

Yet I suppose the duke can
withstand such scrutiny,

since he is, after all, a man.

His Grace was fortunate to have
you there with him as a child

after what happened
to his mother. Awful!

- He is not what Whistledown writes.
- Nor is Daphne.

It would seem the two of them
have that much in common, then.

Matches have certainly
been made with far less.

What are you suggesting?

Lady Whistledown merely
writes what she sees.

Perhaps we need to help her to
see things a bit more clearly.

The duke is quite
fond of gooseberry pie.

The very dish my cook is renowned for.

Haven't you heard what
we're talking about?

For all we know, Whistledown
may be some interloper

living in Bloomsbury, of all places.

What should be so
terrible about Bloomsbury?

That people there
actually work for a living?

She does seem to be someone with access.

- Who knows if Whistledown is even a she?
- Fair point.

Because she is simply too
good to be anyone but a man?

Well, I think it rather obvious
that the writer is Lady Danbury.

Lady Danbury enjoys sharing her
insults with society directly.

She would never bother
herself writing them all down.

Could it be Lady Featherington?

No!

No.

You have yet to read
what Whistledown writes

of the Featheringtons, little sister.

You must forgive this rather
unruly debate, Your Grace.

- Nonsense. I find it entertaining.
- Oh!

All of you at one
table, even the children.

Well, I realize it may be unfashionable,

but we like each other.

Most of the time.

You should join us
more often, Your Grace.

Perhaps when we travel
to our country seat.

You would be most welcome.

Gregory! Would you
stop tossing peas at me?

Those peas were already there.

You cannot tell me
what to do. I am older.

- And I'm taller.
- Children...

He does have a presence about him.

If rakish dukes were one's thing.

- I'm to spar with Jackson himself.
- You?

Is that envy I detect in your voice?

Judgment, brother. I
shall need to witness this.

You appear displeased.

Do I?

We find ourselves seated beside
each other, Miss Bridgerton.

I'd like to think
you're happy about that.

Perhaps, Your Grace, it would be better

if you refrained from
thinking about me at all.

It is simply surprising.

Yes! However is it possible for a lady

to offer anything other than a smile

whilst seated beside a duke?

... you regarding subjects much too...

- Even one of your reputation.
- You are aware of my reputation.

I am aware of your friendship
with my eldest brother.

If that were not enough, I am also aware

of the things a certain writer
has recently written of you.

Presumptuous? Clearly.

Arrogant? Most definitely.

You are a rake... through and through.

Tell me I'm wrong.

Who is to refrain from
thinking about whom again?

I assure you. I am anything
but interested in you.

- Good.
- Quite.

And I anything but interested in you,

the eldest sister of my oldest friend,

yet another recent subject
of a certain writer.

Chaste, neat, desperate.

- I shall have you know...
- To marry, that is.

Tell me I am wrong.

Hastings, I'm so glad you
decided to join us this evening.

- It was most spontaneous of you.
- Not at all.

With Lady Danbury accepting your
dear mother's gracious invitation

on my behalf...

Well, however could I have declined?

You must stay for dessert.

It's gooseberry pie, Your Grace.

Ah! Lovely!

You were a reasonable mother until
your eldest daughter came of age.

- Anthony...
- This matchmaking scheme

you rather transparently concocted
with Lady Danbury, it will not work.

I can think of worse matches
for Daphne than a duke.

- I believe the two of you to be friends.
- We are good friends.

Which is why I know he has
absolutely no intention of marrying.

You must understand all
men make that assertion.

- Your... Your father...
- Do not bring Father into this.

Even if he were in want of a wife,

you would most certainly not have
the duke anywhere near Daphne.

I am fully subscribed to the belief

that reformed rakes make
the very best of husbands.

He will not make her happy!

Daphne deserves better.

And I know... I know you think
you are solving the problem,

but you are not. And that is
all I shall say about the matter.

The duke will be joining us as our
guest at Vauxhall tomorrow evening.

I admit, it was not easy
to convince him to come.

- You overstep.
- She is my eldest daughter.

- Yet she is my responsibility, as are you.
- Responsibility?

Do not make this any more
difficult than it already is.

I wish to know something, Anthony.

Tonight, when you leave this study

that you continue to
keep at your family home,

are you to return to bachelor
lodgings across the square,

or will you pay a visit to a
certain soprano that you tend to

in an apartment that you pay
for on the other side of town?

Relying on your younger brothers to
one day do the job that you cannot.

You like to speak of responsibility.

My dear son!

Of duty?

Pray tell, what should you know of it?

I sit with her in that drawing room.

Do you know what I see?

A young woman who is terrified

because she knows what kind of
life, what kind of future, awaits her

should you continue to get in her way.

If your father was still here, Daphne
would already have been matched.

The man would have made an
arrangement with an old friend.

The man would have done
what was now necessary.

So you must ask yourself

are you merely an older brother,

or are you the man of this house?

I cannot see you anymore.

I... I do not understand.

It is not for you to understand.

I must do what is necessary.

You said you would always protect me.

You promised to care for me, my lord.

And now...

What shall I do now?

You shall leave.

Be it shame or slander,

seduction or smear,

there is but one thing

that humbles even the most
highly-regarded members of our dear ton...

a scandal!

Well, dear reader, it should
seem that all of Grosvenor Square

has been left to ponder a rather
scandalous question, indeed.

Might one former diamond's
recent fall from grace

turn out to be the most
damning scandal of all?

- Pen.
- Colin.

- I did not know you would be here.
- Sorry to disappoint.

Have you seen Miss Thompson?

She is ill.

My mama had to stay home with her.

Papa had to chaperone.

I'm quite enjoying the
fact that he is here.

Mama would never allow me
to wear a dress like this.

Not, uh, yellow enough, I think.

Mr. Bridgerton.

I believe you owe me
a dance this evening.

And I have only one more space
remaining on my card at present.

How convenient.

Penelope, I did not see you there.

I'm afraid I cannot offer
you that dance, Miss Cowper.

I am to escort Miss
Featherington to the floor.

The resemblance is remarkable.

You look just like him.

Your father.

Ladies and gentlemen,

a most extraordinary event
is about to take place.

Right this way!

Come! Come!

- Madam.
- Yes... Varley?

It is with great privilege

I present Vauxhall's newest
spectacle of illumination.

Feast your eyes above

and allow all that is
radiant to overwhelm you!

Wonderful light!

Thank you!

Is it not the most bizarre?

Look, Brother.

What is it?

Lord Berbrooke's barony
is over 200 years old.

His lineage is legitimate.

He has had an excellent
education, possesses no debts,

never hurt an animal or a
woman, and is even a decent shot.

To speak strictly, there
is nothing wrong with him.

- What should any of this...
- You are to marry him.

- Nigel?
- I had to find you a husband, Sister.

Now, be grateful it is done.

It should be just as easy to
fall in love with Lord Berbrooke

as with anyone else.

I will not hear of this.

You haven't bled.

It's been over a month
since your arrival,

and you haven't bled.

I suppose I should be happy.

Up until now,

I've had no legitimate
excuse to dispense with you.

But when Lord
Featherington hears of this,

when your own papa hears of this...

- Please...
- I suppose I should be happy.

And if it were guaranteed that my
own ladies would not be affected

by your revolting recklessness,

I would be!

Do you even know who the father is?

What I know is that you
shall never understand.

- What was that?
- You shall never understand!

Someone like you, living
this ridiculously charmed...

Did you think I wanted to come here...

to be around people like you,

so out of touch, so superior?

Ah!

Whatever are you doing?

Nigel, not now.

"Nigel?"

Are we to drop the honorific so soon?

I suppose as your husband...

You will never be my husband.
I will never marry you.

My brother, he...

He made a mistake.

Do you think yourself better than me?

It'd be best for you to leave.

You should be thanking me.

I'm your last hope. No one
wants you, Miss Bridgerton.

- What are you doing?
- You'll find out.

Stop it!

Let go of me!

Your Grace... I had no intention...

Of knocking the climp flat out?

Well, I must say, I am impressed.

What are you doing out here?

Avoiding certain people.

- People?
- Mothers.

They are people, I suppose.

You are coming from the Dark Walk.
It is merely a few steps away.

- What would you know of the Dark...
- The Dark Walk is merely a few steps away,

and I am alone with two men.

You are only with one
man. The other is...

I'll be compromised just the same.

Do you have any idea what would happen

if someone even suggested that I...

- I must go.
- Marry me, Miss Bridgerton.

Now, as far as proposals go, that
may be the least romantic of all.

I suppose if someone
were to find me here,

it would be one way out of marrying him.

You cannot possibly be
thinking of marrying him.

If I am unable to secure another
offer, there may be no alternative.

Unlike you, I cannot simply
declare I do not wish to marry.

I do not have such a privilege.

Yes, I was surprised to learn

you no longer have a line of suitors
around every square in London.

I am in no need of your derision, sir.

I do not mock you. I am being sincere.

I know of what this Lady
Whistledown has written.

Trust I possess as much contempt
for the author as you do.

She's all but issued a challenge
to London's most ambitious mamas,

encouraging, provoking them to...

Claim you as their prize?

Do not worry, Your Grace.

I believe such a win

would be promptly forfeited, indeed.

I must go this way.
You, through those trees.

Perhaps there is an answer...

to our collective
Lady Whistledown issue.

We could pretend to form an attachment.

With you on my arm,

the world will believe I've
finally found my duchess.

Every presumptuous mother
in town will leave me alone,

and every suitor will be looking at you.

You must know men are
always interested in a woman

when they believe another,
particularly a duke,

to be interested as well.

You presume Lady Whistledown...

I presume she'll deem
us to be what we are.

Me, unavailable.

You...

desirable.

Stare into my eyes.

Here.

Closer.

If this is to work, we
must appear madly in love.

- It is an absurd plan.
- I find it quite brilliant.

Provided you do not wish to marry me,

and I do not wish to marry you,

whatever should you have to lose?

For those not in attendance

at the Vauxhall celebration,

you missed the most
remarkable coup of the season.

It appears Miss Daphne Bridgerton
has captured the interest

of the newly returned Duke of Hastings.

How the young miss
secured her newfound suitor

is yet to be determined.

Yet, if anyone shall reveal
the circumstances of this match,

it is I.

Yours truly...

Lady Whistledown.

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