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inbox. duplicity.
Daphne Bridgerton
Please leave all correspondence here, action threads as well. While new to the game, her voice-mail message will be automated, and it may take longer than usual for her to reply to texts, videos, and phonecalls.
Daphne Bridgerton
Please leave all correspondence here, action threads as well. While new to the game, her voice-mail message will be automated, and it may take longer than usual for her to reply to texts, videos, and phonecalls.
cw: referenced (fake) dub-con
Anthony takes a deep breath.
Fuck. Okay.
He has to be honest with her. He owes her that much, and he's her eldest brother. ]
Hastings and I [ the word "fucked" is right on the tip of his tongue because that's what he'd say if he was speaking to Simon, or even to Benedict or Colin. But he is hit with the horrifying realization that the only thing worse than telling his sister that he fucked her husband was telling his sweet, innocent sister who was brought here on her wedding night that he fucked her husband. What words does he even use with her? Eloise had talked about how unfair it was what they didn't tell the girls anything and that's all well and good but Daphne is not Eloise and he cannot change the past and what words does he even use. Not a single word in his entire euphuism-ridden rake vocabulary seems appropriate for this moment. ] had a moment of weakness. It is no excuse, but we were both overwhelmed and lost.
[ As he struggles to come up with what to say, he remembers Simon's harsh kisses and his quiet, intimately spoken suggestions: Tell her that I am not her husband. Not as of yet.
Tell her I offered myself to you. Held you down as you cursed my name.
Tell her how you burned for me, and could not stand to be held back.
No. No, this is not helping at all. He swallows thickly, trying to banish the thought of it. Which is actually very difficult, since he's actively trying to tell her about what happened. ]
I should not have been intimate with him. [ He shakes his head, looking away from her, the guilt and shame threatening to drown him, but at least that stops him from thinking about how ridiculously hot it had been to be with Simon like that. ] It will not happen again.
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her face twists in disgust for a moment, but at what anthony is specifically saying rather than at him, what he's thought he needs to share with her. the pieces do not fully click into place as she swings the bouquet down through the air, stems becoming slightly crushed under her grip, her free hand waving out as if to try to stop him from continuing.
do not tell her about some other person, some other woman that the two of them became entangled with together. separately. multiple women. men.
daphne's face becomes near expressionless when she hears the rest. the implications blasting into her ears. intimate with him. it won't happen again. anthony is truly apologetic for this, but his feelings are the absolute last concern of hers as awareness crystallizes. her skin turns paler, features drooping. a slow blink. another. and yet another, her jaw barely twisting as her rows of teeth circle against one another.
her feet take her forward to round closer into anthony's space, hurt growing deeper on her face, petals and leaves falling to the ground as she moves. she holds onto those flowers like they're a weapon she's readying, and her voice is low when she does speak. shaky but she hasn't much to get out. she simply needs to clarify. ]
Just the two of you? [ her heart pounds like thunder, fire in her eyes, but the days of ever hitting one of her siblings for a slight, a betrayal (who among them have ever truly done so to the other?) are so far in her past. and she'd barely been one for physical fights anyway, slapping but never being one to want it to escalate and running off to cry to their mama or papa instead. years ago.
she doesn't need to lay a finger on him for anthony to know the ache this abrupt news causes. ] You were together? By choice?
[ she swallows hard. ] Why, Anthony? [ tears shine at her eyes, her forehead creasing as she starts to cry, anger morphing into a desperation for an explanation. any answer that makes sense to her. ] There is no one else you could have gone to for...comfort?
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Of course any scant relief dies quickly when he sees she's ready to cry. He'd rather she hit him, seeing her cry and knowing he's the cause of it is far, far worse.
He gently tries to take the flowers from her so he can put them on the counter, so she doesn't make a mess all over her kitchen, swinging them around like that. What he really wants to do is hug her and tell her it will be alright, but he clearly doesn't have any right to do that, so sparing her a pollen-strewn kitchen will have to be as close to physical comfort as he can give at the moment. ]
I do not know anyone else, besides you and our other siblings. Simon is my oldest and best friend. [ it's why he'd been able to give Daphne advice about him, after all, gently sharing the shallowest parts of Simon's secrets. ] We did not plan for it, it just...happened.
[ One minute he was trying to punch Simon in the face for implying that Daphne slept around and in the next he was letting Simon touch him. ]
I never want to hurt you. I thought it would be better if you heard it from me.
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each statement feels like a slap in the face, as if they carry the reasoning that anthony clearly thinks they do. why else would he say them? how long has it been since her eldest brother has turned her world upside down, toppled her over so she's on her head, all of the blood rushing down and leaving her devoid of being able to catch her breath?
her chest heaves harder as his explanations sink in. she could not fathom ever pursuing a romantic partner, a spouse of one of her siblings. were he and simon not like brothers but in bond rather than blood? it's how she felt about eloise's beloved in the city, having called pietro her brother. because of how deeply eloise loved him. what sort of sibling cuts this deeply into another?
she can't help the chortle of bitter laughter at his final words, panic rising up higher, an attack of it at every beat of her pulse. her world spins, and daphne has to close her eyes to try to center herself, chin tilting down for a moment in a series of short breaths that aim to go deeper.
when she looks back to anthony, her arm swings out, flowers meant to collide directly with his face if he doesn't stop them. maybe she gets the chance to strike him with an especially pointy stem or thorn, but she lets go, not caring if they fall onto the floor or into her brother's grasping hands. ]
And do you fuck all of your oldest, truest [ ah, the cynicism ] friends, brother? [ a dry, bitter laugh.
there is more she needs to say. has to get out. but, she cannot bear forming them even as thoughts, her face dipping down, tears falling as she circles her arms around her chest. how she'd like to run away from this, act as though it's never happened. after a few moments, she reaches to wipe at her eyes, speaking to the floor, shoulders slumping. ]
You did not plan it, but did you choose to be with him? [ still looking down, her voice small. ] It is not...always done by choice here... [ desperation floods into her tone as she reaches to fill in the blanks so that it makes sense to her. ]
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Anthony catches the flowers but only because he's trying so hard to help her set them down. A thorn catches on his glove but it spares him from any real damage, and once caught he sets them safely down on the counter where, at least for the moment, it won't be a weapon for her to wield.
He doesn't answer her first question. He suspects there is truly no right answer, and that anything he says will be nothing more than salt in the wound and so he lets it linger, letting her make her own assumptions about how he spends his time with his friends and, specifically, with Simon.
It breaks his heart watching her close in on herself like that, a sight he never wanted to be the cause of. And he doesn't know if he hates himself or Simon more in that moment, but he surely hates them both for doing this to her. He'd told Simon, over and over, that this would happen. But what good was that, when he never told him no? When he'd willingly let Simon fuck him? He cares deeply for Simon, but if the cost was seeing his sister like this, he'd never look at the man again if that would fix it.
Anthony reaches out, his hand hovering in the space between them, not quite touching her but wanting so badly to, unsure of how he can fix this. At once her eldest brother, who should take care of her, but also the villain and source of her pain.
God, he fucked up so badly.
In her last question, he can hear the easy out, but he won't lie to her. She deserves to know the truth, about what he did. About how he betrayed her. ]
Yes. [ He drops his hand to his side. He knows he doesn't deserve to comfort her. Maybe she could call on Benedict, or Eloise. They could help her, where he cannot. ] I knew it would dishonor you and I selfishly chose to be with him anyway.
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no answer coming at first does make her retreat even harder, that desperation coiling along her spine, making her feel like a statute glued to the kitchen floor. unable to move more than to struggle for breath.
there's no space for any rationalizing on daphne's part. of the whys that simon and anthony could fall so easily into one other's arms in bed. her own closest friends have been within their own family, a reality she's always felt has been a boon to her empathy and nurturing instincts. who better to care for than those she knows best? she possesses a grand measure of grace, but no...no, now isn't the time to ponder how these two men she loves might instinctually find genuine comfort past simply being best friends. companions to confide in, however men might.
she craves for anthony to take that easy out, her words straining on her tongue. he's heard it, doesn't take it, and the honesty in this regard is good. or, will turn out to be. eventually.
she doesn't register that he's trying to reach out to her, face in a twist of woe. the betrayal is magnified further from the fact that daphne knew this would happen ; if simon were to ever come to the city, she knew it would shatter her heart to hear and think of him having sex with anyone else. so, for all the ache you bring upon your sister's heart, there's a part of her that's readied for his. doesn't really help at all, though. probably due to it being a circumstance that feels so distorted. unbelievable. familial and closer to her heart that she could've dreamed.
she'll need a few moments, breath catching and coming out in a squeak of a whine as she sniffles, the shock and reluctance to believe him painting the small space between them. she swallows, makes a sound like a hiccup and finally moves. pushes her arms down to her side and steps off to the side, gripping a hand onto the side of the counter, leaving her back to anthony. she feels like she may be sick. another half minute of heavy silence, her fingers gripping onto granite. ]
It is as simple as that, then. [ her body wracks a little until she steadies her breath, turns back again to face him, moving so there is a tiny bit more distance but not much, one hand resting on the counter, the other in a fist at her side. ] Your penchant to think of no one but yourself strikes again and -- [ cheeks streaked with tears, jaw set tight, the anger floods back to rise as her predominant emotion again, heat returning to her eyes, voice clear. ]
You do not dishonor me, Anthony. Your selfishness has dug a chasm, an abyss, in my heart, one that was already deep with Simon barely even knowing me. [ now, the volume of her words increases, bordering toward yelling, flinging blame for the pain he hasn't even inflicted. it's no one's fault that simon doesn't regard her as his wife. or may, now, out of logical necessity...but he is not in love with her like she him. ]
Perhaps the two of you thought I would not even care. [ a bitter laugh. ] Maybe I ought not at all. [ good fucking chance of that, her chin trembling as she snaps it back into order. ] What should you have me do now, brother?
[ you wanted to apologize. clearly this went poorly. you want forgiveness? a punch in the face? for her to kick you out? never look upon your face again? c'mon, anthony, clearly you're capable of getting what you want. ]
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And so when she turns and is angry with him, almost yelling, blaming him even for things he didn't do, he finds that far preferable. He simply stands and listens while she flings her accusations at him, waiting for her to finish.
Is it better, or worse, that he knew she'd care? That he'd told Simon over and over? Worse, he decides. Because he should have stopped it. So much worse, because it is his fault in every sense and there is no way around that. In Simon's mind it was so simple: there was a quota and everyone needed to fill it. But Anthony had known better from the start of their conversation, and he still did it, knowing how it would break Daphne's heart.
Knowing it would dig this abyss between them. ]
I am sorry.
[ A real, true apology. No qualifiers. Those are rare in their family. They tend to mend things over with actions and deeds. And they are rarer still coming from Anthony, who tries to look so perfect that he thinks apologies will somehow tarnish his reputation. ]
All I wanted was to tell you that. I couldn't bear the thought of lying to you or spending time with you and knowing that I had this secret. [ Simon had wanted to lie, of course. But Anthony couldn't. ] Whatever you want to do with that knowledge is up to you. I will accept your judgment.
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it is hardly the first (won't be the last) time that he's upset her in a way that made her world wobble with uncertainty. she's been witness to him frustrating and annoying violet time and again, too. if her heart was not aching so, perhaps there would be ways she may take him down several pegs, but...daphne simply cannot. not about this.
the apology registers. it sounds off, but sincere. not like how their family usually broaches mending fences. as he goes on, listening to him feels as if she's free-falling, like him admitting these simple, earnest truths to her put the ball into her court. she should want that, shouldn't she? but she doesn't. she wants him to do anything to ease even an iota of the ache that roils through her.
and so, her brows lift as she blinks hard, head shaking faintly. she tries to gather her emotions, to put on a braver face. it doesn't really work, but the effort is clear. ]
You have never in love at all, have you, brother? If you have been... [ a shaky swallow, a beat for her to breathe ] you might know that judgment is the last intention I could bear to have regarding...Simon. You know I love him, do you not? Whatever you may not know due to our deceptions and devices, you can see that at least?
[ she stares over at him, searching his face, needing him to recognize how deeply this hurts her. she's already said so, yes, but she's not done telling him how she's feeling. ]
And you. [ this, she whispers, arms slowly relaxing as she peers down, takes a breath and rounds up closer to him, pokes him directly in the chest, at his sternum, the touch quickly shifting as her finger falters, tips of them all laying flatly at the spot. ] Quick to act but unable to give me explanation past it being a moment of fleeting weakness. You expect me to believe you will not do the same again?
[ a nervous swallow. she hates this. ]
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And then there was...the matter of his feelings towards Simon, too. If Violet's advice was to marry your best friend, that was something he could never do. But he can't help that when she asks, Simon comes to mind, too. He can tell himself that isn't right. He can lie and claim he feels nothing for Simon, that they are just old friends. But they are old friends who know nearly everything about one another and, as evidenced by this conversation, fuck each other. If that did not describe two people who liked each other, what did?
No, he wasn't going to entertain that particular thought any longer. ]
I know you love him. [ Anthony's voice breaks at last, emotion coming through where he'd tried to stay even for her. He didn't want to make this be about him, or his guilt. He wanted to just be still and take whatever she needed to inflict upon him. But it's so hard, because he does know how much she loves him, and he hates himself for jeopardizing her happiness. ] I know. That's why I'm here, I -- I know how much worse that makes all of this. [ He recognizes it. That much should at least be obvious.
But then she comes closer, touching him. He puts his hand on top of her own, collecting her dainty little fingers in his. And when he looks down at their hands together, it's like it's the most precious thing in the world and, right now, it feels like it, because right now it feels like he might be on the verge of losing his relationship with her. ]
I don't know what more you want me to say about it. Why would I be honest about all of this but lie about the specifics of what occurred? Hastings and I have simply known each other for a very long time. It probably felt safe to him.
[ No, he knows it did. He knows it was safe, and familiar because of their Oxford days. And then there is what he's not saying about Simon: that Simon claimed that he didn't care about Daphne's feelings because he is not her husband; that he presented an argument about how they had to meet the quota anyway, so there was nothing wrong with doing it. But he doesn't want to put the blame on Simon when it should be on him. If only one of them remembered Simon and Daphne were married, then the one of them who remembered needed to take responsibility. It was that simple. ]
Do you want...[ he's grasping here, trying to figure out what more she wants from him so that she feels like he is giving her the explanation she wants ] details? I do not know what more I can tell you that would make you feel satisfied in the explanation.
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she mirrors him as he looks down, peering directly over, head only needing to tilt slightly. every word hits her ears, feeling almost clipped and resonating even though it's not his intent. panic altering itself as her brain tries to grasp around what's happening. it does feel so much nicer, having his hand around hers, even as her heart feels so exposed and vulnerable.
she doesn't try to draw back at all, features shifting as she tries to piece together how this happened. is this...something they did at home? at school? often? is it some secret that women in the ton do not learn until they're older, wiser. it had taken her coming to duplicity to realize that same sex pairings ever even occur. didn't take her any time at all to fluidly accept that, yes, people who are in love should be together, no matter their sex or gender. but, her brother? in truth, she hasn't thought much of any of their sex lives (why would she??) she knows a former version of anthony that had been in the city got into dalliances with men as well, but not like that's her primary focus. ever. no, she tries to avoid thinking of her siblings fucking anyone, thanks.
she's left blinking, pondering the holes she recognizes but cannot find information to fill them with, when she comes back to being fully cognizant of what else anthony prompts. her lashes flutter rapidly, but she pushes their joined hands against his chest rather than pulling away. ] No.
No. Please. Do not. I... [ details are the absolute last thing that she could ever fathom hearing ] And you? Do you...feel safe with him?
[ is this how it will be, then? two old friends, akin to brothers, staying close (however that may manifest, but clearly it would be daphne's preference for them not to fuck, even if that's irrational or unfair of her, with the nature of the city.) while she's left by the wayside to look on?
her chin quakes again, her anger having abated as she looks up to anthony, meeting his eyes quite directly. ]
You have known he does not even know me really at all. [ a fact. said simply, ache thick in her tone. is that what allowed them both to engage in such activity? or, for anthony to? ] I do not know what I am to do, Anthony. I trust you speak truth, that you wish for it not to occur again [ l o l ] yet this place does not afford us the luxury of committing to promises. And...I do not know that I have ever been this... [ she makes a squeaky sound, jaw clenching ] furious with you. Bearing the idea of staying angry with you it is... [ a beat for her gaze to turn glassy, future worries mingling in ; she blinks, head shaking ] not what I desire. [ but. she's still mad. for now. there's a huff of derision from her nose. ]
Perhaps I ought not think of Simon at all, if matters to do with him cause my heart to ache... [ an impossible notion, but fuck, she wants to shove all the blame onto her duke now. better him than her own flesh and blood, no? ]
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This wasn't supposed to be about him, and yet, she's asking him again to elaborate, and he is afraid that if he starts he might say too much. But he'd never been able to deny Daphne, either.
He listens to the rest of what she has to say while he formulates his thoughts. He's never been good about talking about how he feelings--truthfully, even he's not sure what all his feelings are, most of the time. His emotional growth had come to a prematurely abrupt halt, after all, but he wants to try, for her. If there is anyone he could manage that for, it is surely Daphne. ]
I do not wish to come between the two of you. He may not remember you as you are but I know how much you love each other. Perhaps...over time, here you could get to that point, again. [ Maybe even without Anthony beating up Simon in the club for whatever he'd done to her. Not that he can ask Daphne, it was clearly something that happened after they were married. She probably hadn't experienced whatever it was yet. ] I do not think a love like that is easily forgotten. Even if we wish it to be.
[ Ok, he gets that part out of the way first. The part about her. Now he has to talk about himself. He takes a deep breath and then: ]
Frankly, sister, the question of whether I feel safe with him is a complicated one. I fear the short answer might be "no," but not for the reasons one might expect. I fear he and I are like fire and gunpowder. I often find myself wanting to fight him, and let us not forget I tried to kill him. [ No, none of us are going to forget that any time soon. ] He knows me better than almost anyone, and so he sets me off in a way no one else can. And I suppose it's that same impulsiveness that contributed to what we did. I won't say more than that, but it's--
[ he pauses, trying to collect his thoughts, again. He's clumsy with them, but he's trying. He doesn't have Benedict's way with words, or Daphne's intuitiveness. ]
Sometimes it feels like it must be all extremes with him or nothing at all. [ There's something sad about the idea of it. Nothing at all. ] And that is unsafe because I know how happy the two of you are, and I do not wish to be the reason that happiness is taken from you, simply because he and I cannot keep our hands off one another.
He is my oldest friend, but you are my sister.
[ There's no mistaking the emphasis: she will always be more important. He squeezes her hand to emphasize the point. ]
Passion is fleeting. I can find someone else to be with, but I cannot replace you. The thought that I could even put you at risk... [ he trails off and shakes his head ] No, I don't feel the same safety Hastings does.
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she listens. truly and with her entire heart, jaw clenching a few times when she wills her lips and chin to stop quivering. it surely would be something, wouldn't it, if she and simon could come to any place that resembles the life she knows they should have.
her comments about setting her affections for simon to the side had been, perhaps, melodramatic but sincere. questioning anthony to determine any logic for why he has done what he has, well, that feels like the easier option than dwelling on her love for a man who barely knows her...
her brows furrow as he explains, a soft swallow as anthony rounds back to what she means to him. it is not so easy a thing, for her intuition to flourish when her heart aches.
her lashes flutter down when he speaks those final words, a clearing of her throat sounding as she squeezes both of his hands, her teary eyes meeting his. a genuine smile lifts on her lips.]
We could never be rid of one another, Anthony, and I would have it no other way. It is...precarious, being in this city. Any...safe, familiar feeling, it should not be taken for granted. [ god, she wants every single answer, every single reason that they'd fall so easily and quickly into one another's arms and beds, but she can only reach and wonder for so long. ] It seems you are...a class above even being brothers, then. Friends who bring out the best and the worst in one another.
You shall never have to question my loyalty to you, brother. I...I love you, regardless of anything else. [ how could she feel otherwise? she breathes out, melancholy hold on her features. ] I promise.
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It is more than he deserves. God, what was he thinking, when he'd given into Simon? He'd protested, he'd known, and he'd still said yes. He'd still let Simon convince him that they needed to do it. Some part of him wants to paint Simon as a villain, in the way he'd suggested, but he knows better than that. It wouldn't be right to seek absolution through lies.
A class above even being brothers, then. What a strange way to phrase it. It hints at the dangerous thing he has not yet realized for himself, but that he will start to realize before long, these budding feelings in his chest, the desire he holds for Simon, which is a far worse betrayal of Daphne than the sex itself. So much so, that he has not allowed himself to even consider it. Between that and the fact that any feelings he would have for Simon would never be meaningful back home, it is far from his mind. But her words do hint at it. They do spark....something, the barest recognition. Only enough to think how strange they are, how like love they sound. But, no, of course not.
Of course not.
That is, of course, the real reason his words don't feel sufficient to her, and also why he cannot properly answer her. She has ever been intuitive, she must feel this thing that he does not know how to name, though she obviously does not know how to name it either. The two of them, moreso than anyone else in their family, are so devoted to their duties, they understand the parameters of society and its obligations. Anthony may break the rules with the way he fucks around, but he knows them and he intends (eventually) to follow them. And so, how could either of them name something that is impossible? How could either of them realize?
But naturally it makes his actual excuses--convenience, familiarity--seem hollow. That is an impossible situation of its own. He does not mean to lie. He does not think he is lying. Neither of them would believe the truth. So there are no good answers, no right answers, no way to ease Daphne's fears. They are not unfounded. And even in this, where they are stumbling around the truth, both completely blind to the reality, she is still smarter than he is. She has always understood emotions better.
With only the barest recognition (so bare, it could hardly be called that) at the issue lurking under her words regarding his relationship with Simon, he does not know how to respond. She is right, she must be right. There is nothing he can say that might change that.
Anthony thinks perhaps that will be all. She has promised they will not be rid of each other and, again, he feels grateful beyond measure, undeserving and yet nevertheless the recipient of her grace. He is so lucky, so truly blessed to have her in his life.
He is so certain that is all she will say, so certain that is it, that when she tells him she loves him, a sentiment generally expressed through actions in their home and not through words, his heart nearly breaks again, but in a different way entirely. The way she says it with that melancholy expression is nearly painful, knowing he is the cause, and yet also so warmed to know she does still love him.
She still loves him.
He can feel himself on the precipice of truly falling apart. The way his muscles tense, the heat rising to his face. His throat tightens and tears well in his eyes, and all he can think is that he cannot do that to her, he cannot show her, the same admonition that their mother had given him ten years ago, when he'd had to swallow his grief and stay strong for his siblings.
He lets go of her hands so he can pull her into a hug, holding her against his chest so she won't see, so she doesn't have to watch him fall to pieces over something so simple, something he should know, something he does know. If he knows, why does it hurt so much to hear it? If he knows, why is it so hard to face? His heart races and the tears threaten to fall but he practically begs them not to, pleading with himself to keep it together for her. ]
Thank you. [ Soft, because he is not sure he can manage to speak any louder, without it being obvious. Because he is not sure how much he can say before his feelings betray him. ] I love you, too, sister. I truly am sorry.