Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to the BBC. I do not own anything, nor do I get paid for it.

A/N Thank you for the amazing response on the last chapter. We are close to 800 reviews for this story! Thank you so much for that!

Part 3 of this adventure, and things heat up between the characters. I honestly tried to cut down this chapter but this is the shortest I could make it. The next chapter is just as long, and there's also an interlude after this adventure.

Some religious themes in the chapter, so read at your discretion.

Happy Reading!

The Venetian Tragedy: Listen to the Rain

The Duchess stood in her enormous wardrobe, biting her lips nervously as she tried to decide what to wear. She was due to meet the Provost in less than hour, and she was at her wit's end.

She knew that any sane person would point out that she was being a fool, and that it wouldn't matter what she wore. The Provost was a man of cloth, and she was a married woman. She loved her husband, had ever since he had come riding into town and swept her off her feet.

Rationally, she knew all that. But her heart refused to comply. She had never felt as drawn to anyone, not even her husband, as she had been drawn to the handsome, soft-spoken Provost. She had heard that he had taken over the responsibility for building the orphanage, which had endeared him to her at once. She had been looking forward to meeting him at the ball. She just hadn't expected him to be so handsome.

But it was more than that too. He had the most beautiful blue-green eyes and a smile that set her heart racing. He was polite, well-spoken and something about him was just magnetic. She knew that he only had to ask something of her, and she would gladly leave everything behind for him. It frightened her quite a bit. This went beyond a crush or a fleeting moment of attraction.

She knew she ought to do the responsible thing and call the meeting off. He could meet with the council instead to discuss the orphanage, and she would keep her distance from him. She loved her husband and she had never been unfaithful to him. She had no intention of changing that.

Yet, at the same time, she knew that she was the best person to deal with the orphanage project. The council would dismiss it to the bottom of the pile for being trivial. It would go a lot faster if she were to meet with the Provost herself. Her mind made up, the Duchess pulled herself together and picked a dress off the rack to get dressed.

And if she did choose one of her best dresses, then that was her business, wasn't it?

The Provost changed his robes three times before he wore the dark green smock which he had started with. On his desk sat a silver scroll containing all the data that he would have to present to the Duchess. He tried in vain to convince himself that his hands were shaking because he had to live up to the Duchess' expectations regarding the orphanage.

In truth, he was wondering how he would be able to form coherent words when her mere smile had him fantasising about kissing her. He had spent the better part of the night replaying that tongue-touched smile, the only difference being that they weren't in a ballroom full of guests when she smiled at him like that. He shook his head quickly, dispelling that line of thought. She was married, and he was a priest; he just had to remember that and not lose himself to the temptation.

He finished getting dressed, plastered a grim expression on his face, and left the church to walk to the palace. As he walked, he looked skywards and realised that the rains would be coming down in a few days. The marketplace was busier than usual as no one would venture out during the rainy days, lest they wanted to die or get severe chemical burns. Acid rains were not a common occurrence but when they did happen, there was a strict curfew in Venice. Industrialisation of the Earth had only made the once-harmless phenomenon worse, and now it seemed as if the acid rains would be coming down in about four days according to the forecast.

The Provost knew that the church was already stocked up, so he would not have to worry about it. He had already told Luca and the other priests and priestesses to take that day off, and the church would be quite empty save for him. He reached the palace gates and was let in at once. Instead of being led towards the palace, he was pointed towards the garden.

It was quite a pretty spot, with tall hedges growing in a circle around it. In the middle was a gazebo under which a table for tea had been set. The guard who had led him there, offered him a seat and sent a message to the palace staff informing them of the Provost's arrival.

Mere moments later, the Duchess emerged through the palace doors and the Provost got to his feet, his breath catching. She wasn't dressed as grandly as she had been last night, yet somehow this simple pink day dress she was wearing was far more tempting than that elegant gown. All pink and yellow, just like a rose, an errant thought ran through his mind as he bowed to her.

"My lady," he said.

"Provost Errapel, it is very nice to see you again," she said. "Let us sit."

The Provost sat back down, simultaneously grateful and disappointed that their chairs were opposite each other with the table in between. He watched as the Duchess dismissed the staff with a nod, and poured the tea for them herself.

"Darjeeling with lemon, right Provost?" she asked as she passed him his cup.

He took it with a clear look of surprise on his face. "How did you know?" he asked.

She looked a bit confused for a moment before smiling. "Lucky guess," she said, as she added milk and sugar to hers. "Do help yourself to the biscuits."

He smiled and picked up a ginger biscuit from the plate, skipping over the jammy dodgers which he thought were the vilest things ever invented. The Duchess watched this with a small, amused smile. "So, do tell me what has happened so far with the project," she said, taking a sip of her tea.

He cleared his throat and unfurled the silver scroll he had brought. A quick pattern was typed out on it and a holographic 3-d plan burst forth in front of them. "As you see, it is to be three storeys for now," he said. "The older children will of course have rooms on the upper floors, and there are staff quarters over here…"

Jarrett was on cloud nine. His first date with Rina had gone splendidly. They had taken the gondola down the canal, where Jarrett had set up a picnic for them on the roof of one of the abandoned villas.

Though they were both a little shy at first, they realised that they had plenty of things in common as they talked. Jarrett discovered that Rina could be quite the conversationalist once her initial shyness melted away, and he found himself mesmerised by the way her eyes would sparkle when she spoke about the things she liked.

They spoke for what felt like hours, but then Rina had to go because it was part of her duties to be by the Duchess' side come evening. Jarrett took them both back to the palace and walked her back to the gardens, where he kissed her hand in goodbye.

She blushed prettily, and left after promising to meet him again the next day. Jarrett turned to go as well, when he saw that there was a small section of the garden cordoned off by tall hedges where he could hear voices from. He peeked in through the hedges curiously, and saw the Provost and the Duchess sitting under the gazebo, talking in serious tones about the small holographic building model in front of them.

Jarrett smiled a little as he left them to it and left the gardens. The Provost had done so much for Venice already and it was good to see that the Duchess was willing to help as well. He had been a bit ambivalent about the Duke and his way of ruling Venice, but it seemed as if his wife more than made up for the things that he neglected.

He trotted back into town, thanked Nolan for looking after the shop, and started planning his next date with Rina.

The Duchess put her shoes on and checked her reflection again. Her first meeting with the Provost had been nearly four days ago, and they had met every afternoon since to discuss the orphanage and its planning. She'd found out that he had worked really hard, and apart from a few suggestions from her, he truly had carried the whole thing on his own.

She knew that it would rain today but she had still scheduled their daily meeting which she hoped would end long before evening when the rains would start. She had come to enjoy their meetings, and she enjoyed the conversations she had with the Provost. He was widely read, had so many weird and wonderful ideas that she knew that she could listen to him for days.

They had an easy camaraderie, which she felt she had never had with anyone else, and even after just four meetings she felt like they had known each other for years. His presence put her at ease, and every evening, their goodbye would be prolonged for just a few minutes longer.

The Duchess blushed lightly in remembrance of the polite kiss on her hand that he had given last evening before saying goodbye. He never did anything untoward her, and she would have almost thought that her attraction to him was entirely one-sided had she never seen the intense look in his eyes every time she smiled or said something entirely witty. It was different than the way her husband looked at her, yet the possessiveness was almost too familiar. It was that look that served as a reminder to her that she was married and had a husband who loved her. But the quiet simmering tension between her and the Provost was getting almost unbearable.

She smiled as she descended down the stairs, knowing that she would be seeing him soon. Sure enough, when she went to the garden, he was sitting in his spot under the gazebo, his eyes trained on the doors that he knew she would come through. When he saw her, a beautiful smile lit up his face and he got to his feet as he always did.

"My lady," he said, bowing to her. The Duchess took a moment to realise that he never called her Jessamine, even after she told him to call her that. Somehow she felt it wouldn't sound quite right from him if he did.

"Good afternoon, Provost," she greeted as they both sat down. The chairs, once on the opposite side of the table, were now side by side with hardly an inch between them. "Tea?" she asked, even though she knew the answer.

"Yes, please," he said with a smile.

A gust of warm afternoon wind blew through the garden, and the Duchess laughed when one of her curls blew itself onto the Provost's cheek. She set the teapot down and brushed the golden lock off his face, only realising what she had done when she saw his shocked look. She abruptly removed her hand, blushing crimson as she busied herself with the tea things. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw the hint of pink on his pale cheeks.

Her hand shook slightly as she gave him his cup of tea, the quiet intensity in the air making her feel light-headed. His fingers brushed hers as he took the cup, and both of them met each others' gaze heatedly before looking away sharply.

The Duchess could barely concentrate on making her own tea, painfully aware of the man sitting next to her. Her heart hammered in her chest and she nearly dropped the sugar tongs from her shaking fingers. The Provost caught them before she did, and placed them back on the tray. His hand brushed hers as he sat back, she didn't dare look at him for fear of what she would see. The hand that he had touched tingled with that brief touch and she clenched it in a fist, hoping to collect herself.

Her tea sat forgotten, and she saw that he had stopped drinking as well. The air between them seemed to crackle, and feeling bold for the first time that afternoon, she loosened her fist and sat back in her chair, letting her hand brush his hand as she did.

It was his turn to gasp, but instead of letting it pass like she had, he turned his hand little so that her fingers tangled with his own lightly. She looked at him in surprise, and saw how dark his eyes had gone. Emboldened by it, she linked their fingers together more firmly and turned in her chair so that she was facing him.

His eyes softened when he felt her grip on his hand tighten and he stroked his thumb over their clasped hands, almost like a practiced movement. She felt her eyes flutter shut at that tender movement and in the next moment, she felt his cool lips press a kiss to their clasped hands. He seemed to pause then, as if asking for permission. The Duchess leaned in closer without opening her eyes, and felt excitement rise in her heart when he nuzzled her cheek softly.

With a sharp intake of breath, she tilted her head and let her lips touch his in a chaste gesture. His lips parted beneath hers and a quiet sigh escaped them as he caught her bottom lip and nibbled on it softly. Their noses brushed each other while their lips moved together in perfect harmony as if they had done this many times before. But then his free hand sought out her other hand and she knew the exact moment when he felt the cold band of her wedding ring.

He pulled away with a gasp, looking horrified. The Duchess felt her own face flood with colour as her gaze dropped to her lap. The Provost stood up hastily, looking quite unsettled himself. He gathered up his silver scroll and bowed quickly to her. "My lady," he said and then turned around and nearly fled the palace.

The Duchess felt tears rise in her eyes and she wiped them away quickly and composed herself before returning to the palace. She was thankful that no one had witnessed it, the staff being too busy to linger around that part of the garden and her husband being in the council chambers.

The thought of her husband brought more tears to her eyes and she nearly ran back to her chambers, wishing to be alone when she cried. She had only just shut herself in her room, when she heard footsteps that she knew could only belong to her husband. He let himself into her chambers, and she got to her feet quickly, wondering if he had discovered what had happened.

"Jessamine?"

"Y-yes?" she cursed herself for stumbling.

"I am so sorry, darling," he said, pacing in her chambers looking quite agitated.

"Sorry? What for?" she asked, feeling confused and a little scared.

"I tried to tell them, but it is vitally important. I am so sorry, my love," he said.

"What?" she asked, now thoroughly confused.

"The Council," he said, looking at her in surprise. "The matter with the rest of Italy is at a crucial point. My presence is required at once."

A breath left her in a whoosh. "You are leaving Venice?" she asked in surprise.

"Only for a few days," he said, taking her hands in his. "I'm sorry, I know I promised to be by your side."

The tears from her eyes started flowing again, as guilt rose in her heart. He mistook her tears for sadness, and kissed her forehead softly. "Darling, please don't cry," he begged. "I won't be able to leave if you do."

She sniffed and nodded quickly, trying to stop her tears. "It's alright. You have your duties," she said, sounding a little calmer now.

He smiled a little and kissed her tears away. "I won't be long, and I shall think of you every moment I am away," he promised.

"Whe-when do you have to go?" she asked.

"Right now, I am afraid. We have to leave before the rains start," he said.

She nodded and kissed his cheek quickly. "Go on, then," she said. "I'll be fine."

He looked saddened but nodded back at her assurance. He cupped her face and kissed her slowly, not really noticing that she had gone very stiff in his arms. "Goodbye," he said.

She mustered up a smile for him. "Goodbye," she said as he smiled at her and left.

Her smile dropped from her face and she wiped her tears off quickly. She told the staff that she was to be left alone until the next day, and went into her wardrobe to pick up a veil that would sufficiently hide her face.

It was time for some explanations.

The Provost checked the church supplies almost absently, his mind firmly on the kiss that he and the Duchess had shared. Never, not even in his wildest dreams, had he thought that she would welcome and return his advances. But it had been too much, she had been too much. He had to leave, or he would have continued right there and then, damn all the consequences.

He'd seen the tears in her eyes, and he was half-terrified that the guards would be coming in to drag him in front of the Duke. That was why he did jump violently when the door to his office opened rather roughly. He turned around in shock, but was confused when he saw a woman dressed in a plain, yet expensive white dress, her face hidden by a veil. He knew that the rains would be coming down soon, and he was about to tell her to leave before she got caught in the downpour, when she raised the veil from her face.

He stepped back in shock when he realised it was the Duchess. "M-my lady," he stuttered, but before he could muster up a bow, she had walked right up to him.

"Why?" she asked plainly.

"My lady?" he asked, confused.

"Why did you run?" she asked.

His gaze fell. "I apologise for my appalling behaviour, Highness. I never meant to...I would never have...I am sorry," he finished lamely.

"No," she said and he looked up at her in surprise. She was looking a bit shaken, but otherwise determined. "Don't say you regret it. Please don't."

He cupped her face with one hand, unable to help himself. "My lady, you have a husband. It wouldn't be right…" he said, trying to convince himself as well as her.

She touched the hand that was held to her cheek and entwined their fingers together. "Some minutes ago, I was kissed by my husband, and it felt as if I was betraying you rather than the other way around. Tell me Provost, why should the kiss with my own husband feel more foreign than the stolen kiss we shared?" she asked.

He stared at her in shock, his mouth opening and closing as his words refused to come out. "Per-perhaps it was just the heat of the moment, my lady," he said, but could hear how hollow his words sounded. In truth, there had been such honesty in that kiss, that a big part of him refused to dismiss it regardless of the moral implications.

She peered sharply at him, undeterred by his words. "Then look me in the eye and say that it felt wrong to you. I shall leave, and keep my distance from you," she said.

The Provost could feel himself trembling, knowing that if he gave in, it would invite a whole world of trouble in his life. Yet looking at her earnest golden brown eyes, he knew that it would be all worth it even if all he got were a few stolen moments with her.

The decision came rather quickly to him then, and he decided to answer the best way he could, and tilted his head to kiss her gently. He felt her smile against his lips as she kissed him back, and he knew that she was absolutely right. This felt more right than anything else.

His hand moved from her cheek to wrap around her waist as he pulled her closer, letting his lips drift over cheeks, nose and eyelids before moving back to her mouth. He removed the veil from her hair, letting it fall behind her and pulled away to look at her in question. She smiled reassuringly at him, and guided his hands towards the buttons holding her dress close.

Outside, the rains began to fall on Venice.

The Duke was awoken rudely from his sleep, and he blinked angrily into the darkness. "Who is it?" he demanded roughly.

"Oh, it is just me," said the smooth, male voice and the Duke stiffened.

"What are you doing here? I thought you would have gone by now," said the Duke, trying to sound amiable and not scared as he truly was.

"I had gone, but I had to return. You have been slacking, Nathaniel Celandine. I thought we had a deal," the man continued.

The Duke stiffened. "I have kept my part," he insisted.

"Oh, have you indeed? Tell me then, why does your wife lie with a man that is not you?"

He got to his feet angrily, forgetting that he was supposed to be scared. "How dare you! She is not like that, and she would never betray me!"

"No, Jessamine Celandine would never have betrayed you," the voice was amused now. "Do you forget who she really is?"

The Duke sat back down, his hands shaking. "No, you promised me that it had worked. You promised that she wouldn't remember," he said accusingly.

"I also recall telling you that having the Doctor close to her was a mistake. It was a matter of time before her heart chose what it wanted, regardless of anything we could have done to her mind."

The Duke started shaking his head. "No, I will not allow it," he said furiously. "She will not leave me again."

"Good," the voice was satisfied. "Go back to Venice now and stop them. Remember our deal, Nathaniel. Rose Tyler must not remember who she is."

A/N End of Part 3. Hope you liked it!

This is the second to last adventure in this story before we move on to the sequel. Can't believe that this monster of a story is coming to an end.

Part 4 will be up soon. See you then!