Chapter Text
The Grand Tour.
What every gentleman of fashion did upon finishing his education, be it after graduating from Eton or, as it had been Anthony’s case, after finishing university.
A way to enrich themselves. See other cultures. The finishing touch to a gentleman’s education.
Or, in more true words, partying and enjoying themselves while abroad, away from the judgement of family, friends and acquaintances.
Anthony had never been particularly keen on a Grand Tour himself. But hearing stories of people who had travelled, of Uncle Andrew’s adventures at sea, it had made him long to see the world. So, he had taken the opportunity when it was offered, travelling to Europe with his old school friend Simon Basset.
And now here he was in Rome… The capital of the former Roman Empire… The seat of the Catholic Pope. The city he had heard so much about, full of wonders he was now seeing with his own eyes.
There was only a small problem.
Everyone had failed to mention how hot Rome was when talking about the wonders of the city. Anthony would have appreciated, at that moment, if he had been told a bit more of practical advice and less eloquent compliments of Michelangelo’s works or the city’s gorgeous architecture.
Not that the architecture and Michelangelo’s works weren’t breathtaking. He had seen a bit of Rome already and had been in awe.
But he really would have appreciated having a more weather appropriate wardrobe.
His waistcoat was heavy and the jacket even heavier. His top hat was making sweat drip down his face. How on earth did people live in this city and tolerate the heat? Surely their clothes must be made of a different material to his. Some lighter fabric because everywhere he looked, he saw gentlemen dressed just like he was.
Except they looked much more comfortable than he was.
That was it. Next thing tomorrow he would go and find a tailor and order some new clothes. After all, it was to be expected that clothes bought in Rome would be much more suited to the weather in Florence and Venice than his London-made clothes.
(little did Anthony know that he would not, in fact, get to visit Venice and Florence)
The sun was sweltering. He needed to step out of it as soon as he could. It was getting unbearable. Simon had been right when he had return to their lodgings at noon, claiming the heat to be insupportable. Looking around for shade, he found none.
However, he found a small sign that indicated a bookshop. It would keep him from the heat for a while and he could always procure some gifts to take back for his family. Colin especially, he thought, would love a book about travels. The boy had been very cross to be left behind while Anthony left to see the world, no matter how many times they reminded him he would also have the chance to do it when he was older.
Patience was not a Bridgerton virtue.
As trickles of sweat ran down his spine, Anthony stepped into the small bookshop, feeling instant relief at being out of the sun.
It was a tiny space, crammed with shelves, filled to the brim with books. The smell of old pages filled the air.
“Eloise would love it here.” Anthony murmured.
He would need to get her something from here. Maybe some kind of novel if they sold books in English. His sister was only 10 years old, but she was a precocious and voracious reader. He could also just buy her a book in Italian, and she would just have to learn the language to read it.
Eloise would probably welcome the change to the French lessons Mother was forcing on the girls. Mother would probably not find the situation the least amusing.
A book in English it would be. If it could be found.
Looking around for someone to ask for help, Anthony found no one around so he kept on browsing the store. Some employer was bound to appear at some point, and he was welcoming the relief from the heat.
Suddenly there was a loud crash… followed by low, frustrated mumblings.
Anthony turned his instinctively towards the noise and began walking. Something had fallen, for sure and someone might be in distress. He needed to go and help. But he wasn’t expecting to find what he found.
Sitting on the floor, collecting a pile of fallen books was a young woman. He couldn’t precisely tell her age, but she seemed older than his sisters. Maybe around the age of most London debutantes if he had to hazard a guess.
Her hair was dark, he could see some escaping from the proper updo she had it in, topped by a wide-brimmed bonnet. That was a smart move, in the heat, to wear a hat. Although it seemed to be bothering her quite a bit.
“Arghh.” with a brusque gesture, the young woman pulled the bonnet off, whispering “Stupid hat.”
Her hair fell down, having only been held up by the hat and some few pins that had been pulled with the force she had used to remove the hat. Anthony was left staring.
She, the unknown woman, was gorgeous. Her hair was a deep dark brown and it fell in waves around her face and down her back. He felt a strange urge to run his fingers through her hair.
“Do you need something?”
Her voice pulled Anthony out from his reverie. He had been staring.
“No, miss. I was just browsing the shelves when I heard the crash, and I thought I should check what happened and if help was needed.”
The woman looked at him and then looked meaningfully at the books still lying on the floor. Of course, he had said he had come to help and the only thing he had done was stare at her like a complete mad man.
He crouched down, swiping a hand across his forehead to wipe off some of the sweat. Even though the shop was fresher than the street, it was still quite warm.
“You know, if you had only worn lighter clothing, instead of whatever it is you are wearing, you wouldn’t be suffering so much.”
“I am not suffering, who said I was suffering?”
“I can literally see you skin shine. And you keep wiping your forehead.” She paused. “See, you are doing it again!”
Anthony’s hand stopped on the middle of his forehead. He hadn’t even noticed.
“I didn’t know it would be so hot. I thought my normal clothing would be sufficient.”
“English clothing? For a summer in Rome? Sir, I am not from these parts and even I know how different the climates of those two countries are!”
“I knew it would be different” Anthony was indignant now. Was that young lady calling him stupid? “I just didn’t think it would be so different! So much heat! The sun burns”
“Hence the hat” she nodded in the direction of the offending object lying on the ground. “Much as I hate the dreadful thing. With all those ribbons.”
Anthony had never heard the word ribbon uttered with such distaste. And his sister was Eloise Bridgerton, not known for her love of ribbons.
“At least you are more comfortable than me? That’s a small win?”
The stranger beamed at him.
“You know what? It feels like one! Although it’s not that hard to best an English gentleman, passing by on what? Your Grand Tour, is that what you call it?”
“How did you…?”
“Guess? The clothes, the accent. Your kind is common in these parts, you are not the first one I’ve seen.”
Anthony took a slight offence at being referred to as just one more. The slight contempt in her voice didn’t please him either.
“What’s so wrong with us?”
“Nothing much. Young and privileged, seeing the world. It’s good that you have the opportunity to do it and enjoy it. You are just painfully obvious, that’s all. Don’t quite fit in. I’ve been in Rome for some time, now, you know.”
She finished collecting up her books, he handed her the ones he had piled up. He was curious about this woman. She had spirit, and wit, and wasn’t afraid to stand up to him. She knew her own mind.
He wanted to know more about her. He wanted this not to be the last time he saw her.
But it seemed as if fate was not on his side, because as soon as he was about to ask for her name, he heard the store door open. The young woman lifted her head, eyes wide open in alarm.
“Oh no, Mama.” She got up, still holding the ridiculously high pile of books. “I really must go. My mother is waiting for me you see. I promised her I wouldn’t be long.”
“Do you want me to help you carry those.” Anthony had also risen, and he gestured vaguely to the amount of books.
“No need. Too many questions you know.” She smiled faintly. “But thank you anyway. And thank you for the help” she looked at the floor. “It was much appreciated.”
Anthony nodded, and the stranger attempted a curtsy, which wasn’t at all easy with all the books she was holding.
“Are they all for you?” A last desperate chance to be in her presence a moment longer.
“Some are for my younger sister.” She started walking toward the exit, but paused, turned back, and added. “See to it that you find new clothes? I wouldn’t like to have you walking around Rome so uncomfortable every day.”
“First thing tomorrow I’ll find a tailor.”
“There’s a good one, in Via Condotti. You might want to try that one. I really should go now. Goodbye.”
When she approached the door, he could hear her deep in conversation with the older woman. Her mother she had said.
“That’s way too many books, Kate.”
“But Mama,” she was protesting. “Some are for Edwina too, you know she was sad she couldn’t accompany us!”
Kate
He had a name for the face. But without a surname, how would he ever find her again?
Kate
The fascinating, strikingly beautiful stranger he had met in a random bookshop, in Rome. Who had sparred verbally with him, humbled him at times. Who he might not ever see again.
And so deep in thought he was, Anthony ended up leaving the bookstore without purchasing a single gift for his family.