Only Hope | Anthony Bridgeton

Assist

Abigail sat in Anthony's study with two candles burning on either side of her. She was still dressed in her clothing from dinner, but her gloves had long since been abandoned, and her caramel hair had been removed from its intricate braid and now hung loosely over her right shoulder. 

She probably shouldn't have been in there, but she doubted anyone would know. Everyone had gone to bed at this point. Well, almost everyone. Abby suspected Eloise was reading by candlelight in her bedroom, and Anthony had announced he was going to visit Hastings at their club. 

In truth, Abigail had honestly tried to work at the desk in her guest bedroom, or as Hyacinth had taken to calling it: Abby's room, but she found she had no idea what estate accounts were even supposed to look like and she needed an example. 

It had occurred to her two days prior that she had no idea what was happening with the accounts and bookings of the Bentley household; and, seeing as she had shipped her father to the country, that had to be her worry now. So, yesterday she had retrieved the many papers from her father's desk and had since been attempting to fix the long overdue work. 

The problem was, however, that though she was far from stupid, mathematics had never been a strong point in her schooling. As this was the case, a large brandy from her fiancé's stash also sat in front of her, easing at least some of the stress. 

Just as she considered throwing her quill across the room, a scraping noise interrupted her thoughts and actions. Looking up, she saw Anthony with his hand still on the doorknob, evidently he was just as surprised to see her. 

"What are you doing in here?" She questioned rising from her seat... well, his seat. 

"I could ask you the same question." He stepped closer toward her and the candlelight, and that's when she took in a breath. 

"What happened?" She picked up the closest candle to inspect the large cut down the side of his right eye. 

He sighed and seemingly braced himself. 

"I might have gotten into a tuft with Hastings." 

"You hit your brother-in-law?" 

"Well, as you can see it wasn't one sided." 

"You know what, I'm not even going to question at the moment, just sit and I'll fetch some water and a cloth." 

He didn't protest as he moved to sit in his big leather chair she had just recently vacated. She, meanwhile, took her candle and ran to the dining room, hoping the linens and a water pitcher would be there, as they normally were. She was right. 

Returning, she set the jug and the linens down, and moved to sit on the desk in front of him. She held the candle closer and winced as she saw how deep the cut actually went. 

"It's really not that bad." He tried to assure her. 

"Says you." 

She reached for her brandy glass and took her last sip before dipping the cloth in it. 

"What are you— ah!" He protested in pain as she applied the alcohol to the wound. 

"Sorry but it's the only thing in the room that will stop an infection." 

He didn't respond, instead he took the brandy glass from her hand and finished the rest in one large swig. 

"Well that's one way to numb the pain." She chuckled, now having the water cloth in her hand. 

Again, he didn't say anything and simply snaked his hands around her waist and pulled her down to sit on his lap.

She acknowledged this action with a smile but stayed focused on her task, wiping away more and more blood. She watched his eyes flit away from her and back to the papers on his desk, behind her. 

"May I ask what you were working on in my study?" 

"Nothing." She said, almost in reflex. 

His hand at her hip tugged, and she looked in his eyes. He gave her an incredulous look. 

"Sorry, I suppose it's just become such a habit to defend suspicion around my family." She gave the apology and moved back to his cut. 

He looked around her again and finally spoke again. 

"Are you... settling accounts?" 

She took a long, deep breath and set the cloth down. 

"I'm trying to, but making rather a mess of it." She admitted. 

"Abigail," He started, and she noticed his use of her full name. He hadn't used it hardly ever since they'd become engaged. "I know you do not like to talk about him much, but why isn't your father doing this?" 

She gave a dry laugh that resembled no humor whatsoever. 

"Because I've sent him away to the country, remember? Though in total fairness he had been neglecting these long before then." 

"How are you... well, how are you doing?" He seemed hesitant to ask. 

She paused before tumbling out a response. 

"Awfully, I'm afraid. I know I am capable, but I haven't been taught how to do any of this. It seems as though God himself wants me to fail, and I know if I could only understand the numbers and the symbols I would actually be able to keep our estates in order for Ben and Cal, but at this rate they will be simply left to fend for themselves because I—"

"Woah! Woah... hey. It's alright, breath." Interrupting, he put a calming hand on her cheek to hopefully sooth the upcoming panic attack. 

"I— I can't do this." She was breathing hard and close to tears now. 

"I can help you, if you'd like." His voice was the one calming thing in the storm. 

"Anthony, that's— that's very sweet but my family's burdens should not be your burdens." 

"Yes they bloody well should." He moved his hand under her chin and forced her to look at him. "We're getting married, Abby, and I couldn't be happier about it."

She smiled and let out a breathy laugh as she leaned her forehead against his. 

"Plus," he added. "You seem to take on all of my family's problems, it's about time I helped with yours."

(Omg did I just write a wound cleaning scene?? Hope u liked it lol)