Chapter Text
March 6th, 2020, London
Eloise Bridgerton had spent her entire life surrounded by power, wealth, and expectations. The second daughter of the illustrious Bridgerton family, she had never quite fit into the mold set for her. While her elder siblings seamlessly navigated the family’s high society circles, Eloise had spent her childhood questioning the very institutions that had built their world. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate the advantages her surname afforded her—she simply refused to be defined by them.
At twenty-three, Eloise was a woman of contradictions. She had inherited the Bridgerton sharp wit and stubborn will but paired it with a relentless need to challenge the status quo. As a civil liberties attorney at Irwin Mitchell, she had quickly earned a reputation for being uncompromising in her principles. She fought for the underprivileged, battled government overreach, and rarely backed down from a fight. Even in her firm’s polished halls, she was known for her disdain of hierarchy, a sharp contrast to the deeply traditional family she came from.
Her childhood home, Bridgerton House in Mayfair, was a testament to old-money restraint—understated but undeniably grand. The Bridgertons had built their legacy on centuries of financial acumen, their wealth rivaling titled aristocrats without ever needing a peerage to cement their influence. Eloise had grown up in a house where history whispered from the walls, where her mother, Violet Bridgerton, hosted fundraisers and charity galas with the effortless poise of a woman born into refinement. Her eldest brother, Anthony, had taken over the family conglomerate, Bridgerton Group, at the impossibly young age of eighteen after their father’s untimely death. Now, at thirty-five, he was the face of old-money London—sharp, disciplined, and immaculately controlled.
Eloise, in contrast, had spent the last few years forging her own path. After completing her undergraduate degree in Politics at University College London, she had gone on to earn her LLM at the University of Law, a choice that had surprised no one. From childhood, she had been argumentative, defiant, and fiercely intelligent. Now, she was one of the youngest solicitors at her firm, making waves in legal circles for her work on civil rights cases.
Outside of work, her social life was a careful balancing act. She had always felt more comfortable debating politics in a dimly lit pub than attending one of her family’s lavish soirees, but she still loved them fiercely. Daphne, her elder sister, was wrapped up in PTA meetings and philanthropic ventures, happily married with four children. Francesca, the quiet one, was in Germany, immersed in her world of music. Gregory and Hyacinth, the youngest, were still finding their footing. And then there was Benedict—her artistic, nonconforming brother, who at least understood her desire to exist outside the traditional Bridgerton mold.
But it was Colin, her closest brother in age, who had always been her greatest confidant. Or at least, he had been before his recent return from his never-ending travels. Lately, he had been more distracted, more secretive, though she hadn’t quite figured out why. His friendship with Penelope Featherington, her own best friend since childhood, had also begun to shift in ways she couldn’t quite pinpoint.
Eloise knew she should be focusing on work, on her career ambitions, on the cases that consumed most of her waking hours. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, she found herself feeling unsettled. As if something in her life was on the precipice of change. She didn’t believe in fate or grand romantic notions—those were for Daphne and her novels—but for the first time in years, she had the distinct sense that life was about to take a turn she hadn’t planned for.
And Eloise Bridgerton had never liked surprises.
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It was 7 PM, and Eloise had just started packing up her belongings to go home from work when her phone buzzed on her office table. A message from a colleague, Laura:
Laura: Trivia night. Don’t be late, Bridgerton.
Eloise sighed, rubbing her temples. She had no real desire to go. A night at home with a book and a glass of wine sounded far more appealing than an evening spent answering trivia questions in a crowded pub. But she had already agreed, and she supposed a bit of distraction wouldn’t hurt.
Grabbing her coat and scarf, she made her way out of the office. The moment she stepped outside, the crisp March air bit at her cheeks, a reminder that London was still reluctant to let go of winter. With her hands shoved into her pockets, she started toward the tube station, resolving to make an appearance, have one drink, and then go home.
Of course, things never quite went according to plan.
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The pub was already buzzing with the Friday night crowd by the time Eloise arrived. The King’s Arms, a dimly lit, wood-paneled relic of old London, was exactly the kind of place she enjoyed—unpretentious, filled with the comforting scent of beer, whiskey, and fried food, and most importantly, loud enough to drown out any lingering stress from the week.
“Ah, there she is. I was beginning to think you’d chickened out,” came the smug voice of Helen, a fellow solicitor and arguably Eloise’s biggest workplace rival.
Eloise rolled her eyes as she shrugged off her coat. “Please. I’ve no intention of letting any of you embarrass me with your inadequate general knowledge.”
Helen smirked. “Confident, are we?”
“Always,” Eloise said, snatching the pint of Guinness waiting for her on the table. She took a long sip and exhaled, the warmth of alcohol already working its magic. She had forgotten how much she needed this. A night of drinks, trivia, and friendly competition—the perfect way to unwind and prove herself superior at the same time.
“So,” Laura leaned in, dropping her voice conspiratorially. “Are we playing for fun, or are we crushing the competition?”
Eloise arched a brow, setting her glass down with a satisfying clink. “We crush them,” she said, her voice leaving no room for debate.
Laughter rippled through the group, but Eloise was only half-joking. Trivia was not a casual endeavor. She may have acted indifferent about coming, but now that she was here, she would play to win.
The quizmaster stepped up to the mic, calling for teams to finalize their names. Eloise glanced at her team—Helen, Laura, and a few other colleagues—before leaning forward. “What’s our name?”
Helen smirked. “We were thinking ‘Reasonable Doubt’?”
Eloise took a sip of her drink, considering. “Not bad. But how about… ‘Objection, Overruled’?”
Laura let out a groan. “Oh, that’s good.”
Helen sighed dramatically. “Fine. We’re going with Eloise’s name.”
Eloise smirked, pleased with herself, before nudging Laura. “Now be useful and get me another pint. We have a game to win.”
She rolled her eyes but complied, while Eloise cracked her knuckles and leaned in as the first question was read aloud.
The night was just beginning, and she fully intended to dominate.