His father had summoned him to the study, and Edmund feared the worst.

Despite being a grown man, his father was still as imposing as he had been in Edmund’s childhood memories, and the last thing he wanted was to disappoint him.

He opened the study door cautiously, finding his father seated with a serious expression on his face.

“Good morning, Father.”

“Good morning, son. I trust you enjoyed last night at the opera…”

Edmund swallowed hard, unsure whether his father was referring to the performance or something else entirely.

He sat down opposite him, offering a pleasant smile. “Yes, I enjoyed it greatly—perhaps more than I expected.”

Anthony detected a hint of mockery in his son’s tone, which did not amuse him in the slightest.

“Well, I’m glad, because this cannot continue.”

As his father spoke, Edmund rose from his seat with an air of feigned calmness and moved to the sideboard to pour himself a glass of wine.

“I’m sorry, Father, but it’s just a bit of harmless fun. It’s what makes me feel alive.”

Anthony rubbed his temple, torn between understanding and exasperation. On the one hand, he could empathize—he had experienced similar moments in his youth. On the other hand, seeing Kate so distressed and knowing she was right left him questioning whether stricter boundaries might be necessary for Edmund’s wellbeing and the family’s reputation.

“I understand, Edmund. I was much like you at your age. But the truth is, I was far more discreet, and I didn’t have a father to guide me. At your age, I was responsible for seven younger siblings and helping my mother manage the household.”

Edmund raised an eyebrow, surprised. He had always known his father had taken on family responsibilities at a young age, but he had never imagined how similar they might have been in their youth.

“You’re still young and think you know everything,” Anthony continued. “I assure you, that’s not the case. You still have time to meet a young woman and fall in love. You’d be far happier. And if love in marriage eludes you, at least seek companionship—a person who wishes to see you thrive. That will be far more fulfilling.”

“Father,” Edmund began, “as I’ve tried to explain to Mother, I don’t work that way. I don’t know if I’m broken or why this happens to me, but I don’t want stability. I’m not looking for anything lasting. If I were to marry a young lady as you and Mother would wish, she’d be miserable because I couldn’t love her as she deserves. And I’d still crave the revelry because that’s what I enjoy.”

Edmund feared commitment more than death or the prospect of disappointing his father. Did he truly fear breaking a young woman’s heart, or was he more afraid of having his own broken?

Anthony noticed the uncertainty in his son’s words. He was terrified of the unknown, making no effort because he was simply afraid.

There were things Anthony didn’t know, of course, but he suspected something in Edmund’s past was holding him back. He needed to find out what it was.

“I propose a deal,” Lord Bridgerton said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms to convey his seriousness. “I’ll allow you to continue with these indecent liaisons, but only one day a week. The rest of the time, I expect you to be with your family at home and make an effort this social season—for your mother’s sake. Compliment a lady now and then, invite a young woman to dance at each ball. I’ll keep your activities discreet, but you must appear as a gentleman.”

Edmund weighed his father’s words carefully. It seemed reasonable, even if unappealing. He would have to make an effort and prove he was capable of it.

“Very well,” the young man agreed with a nod.

Anthony allowed his son to leave the study, feeling as though a burden had been lifted.

As Edmund crossed the threshold, someone grabbed his arm and dragged him into another room.

“Charlotte! Let me go!”

“Aha! So that’s your secret—the one Mother wouldn’t tell us!”

“Haven’t you been taught that eavesdropping is terribly rude?” Edmund snapped, his tone biting.

His sister smirked mischievously. “It’s sad to see that you can’t find happiness because of what happened with the young lady—”

Edmund shot her a warning look.

“Do not utter that name,” he growled.

Charlotte stopped immediately.

“The only time you fell in love, she broke your heart” she said softly.

“I didn’t fall in love. It’s… complicated. I… she didn’t…” Edmund hesitated, struggling to find the right words. “Why are we even talking about this?”

Charlotte’s smile turned somber. She had always suspected Edmund had never fully recovered from Miss Smith’s manipulations—now Lady Emerson.

He had given her his heart entirely, and she had only hurt him.

Edmund sighed. “It was unpleasant. I didn’t like being so vulnerable. I swore to myself I’d never give anyone the power to hurt me again.”

“You were just a boy,” Charlotte said gently. “You were 16. Many years passed...”

“Listen, Charlotte, I appreciate your concern, but it taught me not to trust women. I consider that a good thing because now I see how foolish I was.”

Charlotte regarded him with sadness.