Electrical storms are not terribly romantic events. I like thunderstorms, though I know they scare the bejesus out of some people. But I remember one occasion when a friend and I went to the top of a hill in a park to take photographs of an approaching lightning storm. We watched the storm getting closer and closer. We watched a lightning bolt strike a nearby hill. We heard the sizzle. We realized that we were standing around the perfect lightning rod—a camera tripod. We looked at each other and said, “Are we complete idiots?” The answer was, “Yes, of course we are.” We grabbed the tripod, tossed it in the car, and high-tailed it on home. I developed a healthy respect for lightning that night.
No, lightning is not at all romantic. But the Historical Romantic Moment I'd like to talk about today finds its origins in just that unlikely source. I am talking, of course, about Julia Quinn's The Viscount Who Loved Me.
Anthony, Viscount Bridgerton, is looking to marry this year and has his sights set on Edwina Sheffield. However, Edwina’s big sister, Kate, will have none of it. Bridgerton is a well-known rake and rogue. There is no way that Kate is going to let That Man break her baby sister's heart. Kate and Anthony cross verbal swords from the moment they meet, much to the amusement of all around them. It's obvious that they evoke strong feelings in each other, even if those feelings are of intense dislike, but they are horrified to find feelings of desire in the mix as well.
During a house party at the Bridgerton country estate, the aforementioned lightning brings things to a head. Kate is petrified of storms. Not just scared, not frightened, Kate becomes almost comatose with terror during violent storms. One occurs during the house party and Anthony finds Kate cowering beneath a table in the library.
Thunder shook the room, and her body flinched with such torment that Anthony felt it in his gut. 'Oh, Kate,' he whispered. It broke his heart to see her thus. With a careful and steady hand, he reached out to her. . . . Lightning tore through the night, flashing the room with a sharp burst of light, and she squeezed herself into an even tighter ball, if that was possible. . . .
He moved closer and took one of her hands in his. Her skin was like ice, her fingers stiff from terror. It was difficult to pry her arm from around her legs, but eventually he was able to bring her hand to his mouth, and he pressed his lips against her skin, trying to warm her.
'I'm here, Kate,' he repeated, not really sure what else to say. 'I'm here. It will be all right.'
Eventually he managed to scoot himself under the table so that he was sitting beside her on the floor, with his arm around her trembling shoulders. She seemed to relax slightly at his touch, which left him with the oddest feeling—almost a sense of pride that he had been the one to be able to help her. That, and a bone-deep feeling of relief because it was killing him to see her in such torment.
Earlier that day, Kate and Anthony were almost at each other's throats over a “friendly” game of Pall Mall (croquet) where the object was not to win, but to cause the other to lose. But now, here is Anthony in agonies because Kate is suffering, anxious to do anything to ease her fears. And now, here is Kate willing to be comforted, to have her anguish eased by her nemesis. This scene is so mush-inducing that I cannot keep a sigh or two from escaping. Oh, to have Anthony hold my hand when I'm frightened. I could deal with that.
After the storm passes and Kate returns to herself, she and Anthony have a long talk and end the episode with an avowal of friendship, something that would have been unthinkable a few short hours ago. And we all know what a brief journey it can be from friendship to love—especially in Romanceland, and especially when there are bumblebees readily available to instigate the next relationship crisis. But that's another story. . . .
Cheryl Sneed reviews for Rakehell.com.
