Day 4: He Is YOUR Dog

Day 4: He is YOUR dog

Suddenly Hyacinth was in front of him, tugging his sleeve. "Anthony, there is a dog!"

"Hmm?" His eyes followed her pointing to a rotund corgi on a lead that was held by… Miss Sheffield. As if his mind had conjured her. 

Anthony swallowed reflexively. Her head was tilted back, allowing the sun to warm her face. She was wearing deep purple today and was, naturally, as striking as ever. 

"Please may we say hello to the dog?" Hyacinth asked eagerly. "Please, please!" Gregory appeared more interested in the owner than the dog but Anthony decided not to dwell on that, for both their sakes.

There was nothing for it. He'd have no peace either way but at least if they said hello he wouldn't have sullen children on his hands, too. "I think that is a question better directed to his owner. Shall we ask Miss Sheffield?"

That was all the encouragement the young Bridgertons needed. They raced off enthusiastically with Anthony and Nanny following quickly behind, the latter scolding them to walk like ladies and gentlemen. (A bit of a tall order given their ages.)

By the time Anthony arrived, his siblings were foisting a truly spectacular amount of attention upon Miss Sheffield's corgi. He nodded his greeting and she returned it with a curtsey. "Did they at least introduce themselves?" he asked, expression doubtful.

"I believe they were overcome, Mr. Bridgerton." She smiled indulgently toward the youngsters and he had the terrifying thought that she would make a wonderful mother someday. Her expression became tense when she looked at him again. "They are your..?"

"Siblings," he confirmed. 

Only Gregory acknowledged him, waving shyly. "I am most pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Sheffield," he said politely, flushed. 

"And I yours, Mr. Bridgerton," she replied kindly.

Face now fully pink, Gregory muttered something and turned toward the dog. (Overcome indeed.)

There was a long stretch of silence between them that was not precisely comfortable as the pinched look had returned to Miss Sheffield's face. Anthony cast about for something to say that wasn't inane smalltalk. (He had never had the patience for that.) Looking again at his happy family, inspiration finally struck. "Will you not introduce me to your companion?" 

She let out a startled laugh. Well, it was more of an amused huff but Anthony was pleased all the same. "If you wish. This is Newton." The corgi, who had been on his back accepting belly rubs, perked up at his name. The corners of her mouth lifted into a fond smile. "He is an excellent judge of character."

Anthony suspected he had a very similar look on his face. "So he is."

Day 3: "You have no idea how much I want you." (Barista AU)

Anthony and Kate keep running into each other. One of them is more unhappy about it than the other.

Day 5: Kate and her 3 parents (Watercolors)

[TW: dying parent (canonical) and the grief that causes]

Kate did not paint portraits. Watercolors were a notoriously tricky medium and getting a person's likeness was no easy task. She'd really only tried once.

Her father had been ill for several months. He wasn't confined to bed (that would come later) but his movements were no longer smooth and graceful. He would get winded easily and often spent much of the day reclined.

It was hard to see him like that. Miles Sheffield had been strong-- vibrant and active and full of energy. The illness had taken that from him.

But it hadn't taken his smile. It was obvious to Kate that her father was in a great deal of pain but his eyes still twinkled and his laughter was filled with mirth as he teased his wife and daughters.

The doctors had warned that he would only get worse and Kate wanted nothing more than to capture that smile before it was gone. Only she couldn't seem to get the likeness right. It was lifeless and muddled and the colors blurred before her eyes.

"Kate." Mary's voice cut through her gaze and she looked up from her easel in confusion. "Oh Kate, what is the matter?"

Dimly, she realized the room was still blurry, that she was crying. "I--" The words caught in her throat. "I am trying--" she choked, "not to forget."

Mary embraced her. "Oh Kate, you will remember him. I promise you will."

"But I have already lost--" Kate cut herself off, eyes wide with horror. The words my mother hung unspoken between them.

Mary only held her closer, hands rubbing soothing circles around her back. "I know, sweetheart. I know."

Storms aside, Kate did not cry. Not when she fell and skinned her knees, not when being punished for misbehaving, not when their beloved corgi Kepler passed. Just this once, she indulged herself.

After a spell, her gasping breaths calmed to sniffles. Kate pulled away from Mary and wiped her eyes. "Sorry, I just… I cannot let him fade away too." Her aching heart couldn't take it.

Mary took her hand and squeezed. "Never apologize for loving someone, Kate. It's a beautiful gift."

Her throat felt dry and Kate had the distinct feeling that, if she let herself, she might crumble. So she straightened her spine and pulled her hand back. "Thank you, Mary." She truly meant it but the words didn't sound right.

"Of course, darling," Mary replied, voice tinged with lingering sadness. "What will you do with the painting?"

Kate pulled it from the easel-- ironically dry because Kate's face was wet-- and folded it. Rather than answer, she said, "I believe I shall return to landscapes for the time being."

Recognizing the obvious subject change, Mary nodded. "Somerset is lovely this time of year."

"It is," she agreed, unable to keep the obvious relief from her face.

They spoke for a few more minutes about nothing of import until Kate excused herself. She went to her room and placed the still folded failed portrait on her dressing table. Part of her wanted to destroy it (she'd captured her father so poorly) but something inside her chest squeezed in protest at the thought.

She placed the folded paper into her trunk instead. It felt right, sat next to her other special keepsakes. She ran a hand over it one final time. Perhaps someday she might even be glad she'd painted it.

Day 1: "You have no idea who I am, do you?" (Enemies to Lovers)

When famous actor Anthony Bridgerton makes a terrible impression on human rights lawyer Kate Sharma at a party celebrating her model sister it shouldn't matter. It doesn't matter. Until he expresses an interest in her barely legal model sister, that is.

or

Anthony Bridgerton and Kate Sharma definitely aren't George and Amal Clooney.

Day 6: Kate and Anthony (Menace)

After returning Edwina to her chaperoning mother, Anthony was quickly waved over to the refreshments by his younger brother Colin. Standing beside him was a tall dark haired woman Anthony had not met before.

"Brother!" Colin grinned widely-- generally a bad sign for Anthony. "Miss Sheffield and I were just speaking of you."

"Miss… Sheffield," he repeated slowly. 

"Edwina is my younger sister," she said stiffly.

Though she stood a head taller and had more angular features, he could see a familial resemblance around the eyes and nose area. "Ah, yes. The gatekeeper."

This was quite obviously the wrong thing to say. Miss Sheffield's eyes flashed with annoyance. "Excuse me?"

Never one to retreat, Anthony instead doubled down. "Your sister did say she would not marry without your approval, did she not?"

Miss Sheffield raised her brows. "So in this scenario, the gate I am keeping is for becoming betrothed to Edwina?"

"I suppose, yes," Anthony agreed with all the arrogance of a (future) member of the peerage.

"Hmmmph." Somehow Miss Sheffield managed to imbue quite a lot of disapproval into the sound. (It reminded him a bit too much of Lady Danbury, an elderly matron known for speaking her mind freely, wielding a cane with deadly accuracy and whom most of the ton had a very healthy fear of.)

"Brother," Colin spoke up, reminding Anthony he was still standing there, "I have promised Miss Sheffield the next dance. Unfortunately I have just now realized I also promised the dance to Miss Featherington."

Anthony was not feeling particularly charitable at that moment and smiled insincerely in response. "Shall I find Penelope to act as substitute?"

"Nonsense!" Colin waved the suggestion away. "Miss Sheffield is here-- take her to the floor and I shall handle Miss Featherington."

"I am certain the future Viscount is quite in demand," Miss Sheffield sniffed, injecting a remarkable amount of disdain into what should have been a complementary sentiment. "I release you of your obligation."

"No, that will not do!" Colin's charm was out in full force. "I would feel simply terrible if you were forced to sit out because of my inexcusable error."

"Really, I--"

That was enough for Anthony. He actually was quite in demand but being refused by this impertinent chit was raising his hackles. "Come Miss Sheffield," he interrupted, taking her arm none too gently and steering her toward the floor.

When they reached their spot, he turned to face her. Miss Sheffield smirked up at him. "You are going to regret this decision."

"Oh?" Anthony raised his brows. "I am not known for having many regrets."

"Yes, well," she looked away and he might've thought her bashful if she were not standing quite so straight, "I hope you wore thick boots."

Anthony waited until she met his gaze again to respond. "You would not dare."

She smiled a bit ruefully. "Honestly, I could not prevent it if I tried. I am a notoriously terrible dancer."

That startled a laugh from him. "Well then I shall hope my boots are sturdy enough indeed."

As it happened they were not. Oh, they handled Miss Sheffield's missteps well enough but when she stomped on his foot at the close of the dance it was all he could do not to swear aloud. He had, admittedly, baited her but such a juvenile response was shocking. 

Anthony did not escort her from the dancefloor. In truth she swept off before he could offer-- not that he would have after such a display but it still irked him. Instead he limped to where his parents were standing, both looking perplexed, as Colin practically cried with laughter. 

"Did you even dance with Penelope?" Anthony demanded in lieu of a greeting.

Colin couldn't seem to catch his breath, he was wheezing as he nodded.

Violet tutted at the younger brother, while Edmund pulled Anthony toward him. "Is everything all right, son?"

"Fine," he all but growled. Catching his father's startled expression (Anthony rarely had such fits of pique in his presence), he forced himself to take a deep breath. "Fine," he repeated in a calmer tone. He caught sight of Miss Sheffield and felt his neck heat in anger again. "But that woman is a menace."

Edmund spluttered, clearly trying to suppress a laugh of his own. Anthony gave it up as a bad job and excused himself to head to his club. He had had quite enough of the ton for one night.

Day 6: Viscountess

"I was going to ask you to marry me."

Kate stopped breathing. "What?"

"I was going to ask for your hand. I even picked out a ring– it's in my quarters but I can get it if you–"

Kate shook her head. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why were you going to propose?"

Anthony frowned. "Because it makes sense, I suppose. You need money for Edwina's season, I need a wife. We have good conversation, shared values, undeniable chemistry. And I have every confidence you will be an excellent Viscountess."

"What about love?"

"I never planned on marrying for love and neither did you."

Kate felt her heart shatter into a million pieces. The straightforward manner in which he spoke told her everything she needed to know. While she had been falling in love with him, he had felt none of those feelings.