It Was Never Supposed To Be You
A/N: Inspired by booface16 to write this story. This couple has had me in a chokehold since the season debuted and I needed a place to vent out my obsession with them :) This is going to be a short fic, likely 3 chapters. Yes, I moved up Francesca's season for purposes of this story.
Chapter One: Missing Pieces
Anthony checked his pocket watch twice before glancing back down at the scraps of paper in front of him. He should be doing the accounts but instead he found himself reading the papers, as if they would magically open a doorway and send him straight to where his heart had fled a year ago, an organ he could no longer call his own now that it clung pathetically to the woman who'd left him behind.
Another letter from Dorset. A curse and a gift, a wound and a balm, surrender and hope all at once. The edges were worn, the ink faded in spots, but still Anthony re-read the latest missive for the millionth time.
The beauty here makes me forget why I ever return to London. The colors everywhere, the fragrant spices in the air, the vibrancy of life, the noise and excitement . . . It is a country that knows it is bathed in sunlight instead of fog. . . .
That part of the note was easier to read because Anthony had not re-read it as many times. Had not traced the words with his fingertips hoping against hope that somehow he could reach her. It was the next part in the pages-long letter that were fading away, but the words still managed to wrap their way around his heart and steal his breath.
I happened by Miss Sharma again the other day. She was in the market and it was strange to see a lady picking fruit from a vendor's cart rather than sending her maid. But as we both know, she has never been a lady who followed the rules.
Anthony kept searching to see if there would be more there, more details of Kate that he could discern from the casual words Dorset had written. How did she look? What was she wearing? Was she smiling? Was she happy?
Or did she feel even an inkling of what he did? Did she have an ache that seemed to grow with each day they'd been apart?
To Anthony's great frustration, Dorset still had not made mention of what Kate was doing now that she was back in India. All he got was a stray sentence here and there of Dorset finding Kate at a bookshop, or taking tea at her home, or taking a promenade by the river. . . . But Dorset's words were never enough for Anthony. He longed to . . . what? Be there himself? Be with her?
Anthony's jealousy of his friend over these excruciatingly long months had burned his insides so thoroughly that he was numb to it now. Instead, he simply devoured each letter in the dark, hoping no one could see how he had managed to break his own heart by letting Kate go. But then, what choice did he have? He could not make her stay when she wanted to leave. When she did not want him.
"My lord?" came a voice at the door.
Anthony looked up to see one of his footmen at the door of his study. His eyes quickly darted to the letter in the man's hands. Anthony stood up immediately and snatched it from the footman before the man even managed a word.
The footman nodded and quickly exited, knowing better than to linger when Lord Bridgerton was in this state.
Anthony wanted to rip the envelope open but he was afraid of tearing the letter itself, so with trembling hands, he carefully undid the seal and pulled out the note. He saw that it was from Dorset, and he quickly scanned the letter until he reached the two words he was looking for.
Miss Sharma has generously agreed to return with me to London for her sister's wedding to Prince Friedrich. By the time you receive this, we may already be back in town. . . .
Anthony dropped the note on the desk and grabbed his riding coat.
He had been plagued by nightmares for months, fresh pain accompanying each new letter from Dorset. Yet he lived for these brief glimpses of the woman who had chained him to her, taken his mind and his body with her to a land far, far away.
How had he ever believed he could act as if they'd never cross paths? As if he could just walk away from her? She had burned her scent, her smile, her everything into his skin and her marks would never heal. Not until she was in his arms again. Not until she held him close and kissed her breath back into him.
So now he had no choice but try one last time to convince her, to keep her, to make her stay. He would beg on his knees if that is what it took because he knew with certainty that he could never let her go again.
Kate faced straight ahead in Mr. Dorset's curricle as he navigated the busy London streets. It was discomfiting being back in this godforsaken city again. She did not miss its uneven cobblestones, foreboding rain clouds, or the stares and whispers, everything in shades of muted gray. It had been scarcely a day and already she missed home.
The only thing that came close to home for her in this area of the world had been Aubrey Hall with its brilliant gardens and wide open spaces. Perfect for horse-riding and hunting, and an occasional game of pall mall.
She blinked and shook her head at herself. It was starting sooner than she had expected. She had thought distance and time would have cured her of her obsession, but no, being here only brought everything back as if she had never left at all. This feeling . . . it was unacceptable.
"So how does it feel to be back here?" Mr. Dorset asked, seeming to have read her mind. For the first time in a long time, his kind smile and soft voice were doing nothing to calm her nerves.
"Strange," she admitted. "I will be glad once Edwina is married so then she can visit me in India and I will never have to come back here again."
"You wound me, Miss Sharma. Surely, there are some good things that you associate with my country?"
Kate smiled a tiny smile. "Perhaps, but I still prefer not to be here."
"Because of him?" Mr. Dorset asked the question under his breath as he tipped his hat at an older man who was frowning as he walked past them on the street.
"That gentleman? I do not even know him," Kate replied, turning away from Mr. Dorset, her nose in the air.
"Come now, you know of whom I speak," Mr. Dorset laughed.
Kate sighed. Mr. Dorset knew too much. He had caught her in a vulnerable moment over tea one afternoon after she had first received news from Mary about her sister's engagement to Prince Friedrich. She had immediately wondered how the ton was receiving the news and whether Anthony had been a target of their gossip. That unnecessary and unwanted protectiveness of Anthony rose up again. It was then that Mr. Dorset and his too-shrewd eyes forced her to reveal the source of her turmoil.
She had come to trust Mr. Dorset (she refused to call him Thomas no matter how many times he insisted) and they had built a kind of friendship. He was the only person in India who would understand what had happened, who had witnessed it. So she spilled everything to him, especially her frustration that distance and time had done nothing to cure her of this sickness, these feelings.
As he kept waiting for her to answer him as the curricle took them down the lane, she realized she should have known that her confessions would come back to bite her.
"Miss Sharma!" called a female voice ahead of them. Kate looked up and was surprised to find the Duchess of Hastings walking towards them. Kate let out a sigh of relief for the distraction.
Mr. Dorset quickly slowed down the horses and stopped beside where the Duchess was standing. "Good day, your Grace," Mr. Dorset greeted, tipping his hat as he bowed his head.
Kate added, "Wonderful to see you, your Grace."
"I am so glad to see you!" Daphne beamed at her.
"You are?"
"Of course! My sister, Francesca, also got engaged this season, and I am sure you are as excited for Edwina as I am for Francesca for her love match." Daphne's eyes twinkled with joy, and Kate couldn't help but nod in agreement.
"Yes, it seems my sister has finally found the right one for her." Kate's traitorous mind turned back to the one man who had been so wrong for Edwina.
"You must come have tea with me. We have much to discuss. You would not mind, would you, Mr. Dorset?" Daphne asked. Though really, who could refuse a Duchess?
Mr. Dorset shook his head. "Not at all. I can bring Miss Sharma straight to Bridgerton House if you are headed there now."
"That would be perfect!" Daphne smiled, clapping her hands together.
Kate did not have the chance to object before Daphne rushed off and Mr. Dorset turned his curricle toward Bridgerton House. She twisted her hands anxiously, worry hitting her that she might be forced to face Anthony before she was ready. But then, would she ever be ready?