Fandom: Bridgerton
Characters: Siena Rosso, Original Characters
Rating: T
Words: 1.3k
Summary: As Siena is leaving England, she’s reminiscing about her younger self’s dreams and ambitions.
A/N: For Siena Week 2026 - Day 1: Childhood
-> You can also read it on AO3
The cool wind was blowing through Siena’s hair as the dark waves splashed against the ship. There was a full moon tonight, but it was hidden by heavy clouds. Perhaps, Siena should return inside. It might rain any minute.
Yet the fresh air calmed her mind a little—unlike the rooms of the ship, which were small and stuffy and made her feel nauseous.
She had been worried about sea sickness before boarding, as she had never been on a boat before and had not known how she might react. Though, she believed that the sea was not the sole reason for her tight heart.
Perhaps it was merely excitement; maybe a little healthy nervousness. For the first time in her life, she was leaving England. She had always dreamt of this—of travelling across Europe, performing at all those renowned theatres. Of course, she was a bit nervous. But should she not still feel joy as well?
After all, a new life was lying ahead of her. Or maybe, it was merely her old life, just at a new place.
Siena sighed. It was ridiculous. Was this not what she had always longed for? Surely, her younger self would be happy…
*
A mesmerizing smile appeared on Siena’s face as she was watching the singer on stage.
Would that be her one day? She hoped so. Though, she also hoped to be performing at bigger theatres than this one day. Most guests were talking and drinking, not paying the woman on stage any attention. They never did. It was such a shame.
“Do you think I could perform at the Royal Theatre one day?” Siena asked her mother then, who was sitting next to her at a table, enjoying a glass of wine.
“Of course,” her mother replied with a smile. “I’m certain you’ll be able to conquer every stage in London—across Europe, even.”
Siena beamed at her. And her mother knew what she was talking about. She was a ballet dancer, after all. Though, money was always tight.
“If I do, then I will surely earn enough to pay off all our debts, right?” Siena said then. “We could even live in one of those big, pretty houses.”
“When you do,” her mother corrected her. “It might not be easy, but never settle. You have to be ambitious. Only the best make it.”
Siena nodded, biting her lip. “So … why did you choose the stage?”
It was a nicest way of asking her why she had chosen all this trouble, even though it had not paid off. Her mother had received a good education, after all. Surely, she could have found good work elsewhere.
Her mother gave her a smile. “I wanted to be in control of my own life.”
Siena returned the smile, nodding again. That seemed like a good explanation. She, too, would like to be in control of her own life—doing what she loved; travelling the world; never caring about money ever again.
*
Siena sighed. Was this truly the life she had hoped for? Yes, she did what she loved. She was also travelling the world now. And she did not have to care about money, as she had a great gentleman by her side. Yet was she truly in control? Every decision she had ever made had been about security; about a safe and stable future. Never about what she truly wanted. In all honesty, she did not even know what she wanted anymore. There was not point in dwelling on dreams.
What was it that her younger self had wished for again?
*
Too early, Siena and her mother had left the theatre and were now walking home along the dimly lit streets.
“Your father has send us some money for your birthday, by the way,” her mother told her then. “It’s not much and of course it is up to you, what we will use it for. But I thought that I might hire a tutor to teach you some dances. Just one or two lessons,” she added, “as I doubt we’ll be able to afford more than that. However, I know a few dances myself, so I could continue teaching you afterwards.”
“What could I use dancing lessons for?” Siena asked, not too excited.
“Well, who knows—one day, you might find yourself on the dance floor at one of those fancy balls,” her mother replied.
Now, she did feel excited—staring up at her mother with a surprised smile, asking, “You think I will be at a ball one day?”
Her mother gave her a smile. “As I said: be ambitious. You never know what might happen.”
Her mother put an arm around her should as a grin appeared in Siena’s face. A ball. That sounded like a dream. Wearing fancy dresses and letting a handsome gentleman spin her across the room—could this truly be her future?
*
Siena almost laughed as she remembered her naivety. What would her younger self say, if she knew that Siena had almost attended a ball? She probably would not understand why she had declined such an opportunity.
She wondered why her mother had ever encouraged such foolish thoughts. Sure, her mother had always been quite ambitious—but far from naive. In truth, she might be the most cunning and calculated woman Siena knew. And as Siena had grown older, her mother had repeatedly reminded her to think of herself first; to always ensure a secure future. So why had she told her such lies at age ten?
“Are you not cold?”
Startled, Siena turned around. Sir William was approaching her with a small smile.
Siena returned the smile, saying, “No, I’m fine. I will be right with you in a minute.”
He nodded at that, returning inside as Siena turned back to face the dark sea.
He was a good man; a decent man. And perhaps the most perfect man she could have ever found. As a composer, he could always ensure for her to be employed. Neither did they have to keep their affair a secret, as it hardly harmed his reputation to have a muse. And in the end, they shared a common interest.
Yet the thought of spending an entire year with him overseas, living together at the same place, did sound quite … dull.
It was not his fault. She liked him, and she knew that he loved her. And it would be foolish to ever walk away.
Because, in the end, the future might be her own—but there was only a certain path she could allow herself to take.
*
Siena was lying inside her bed, staring at the dark ceiling, still thinking about the performance earlier.
What would her life be like? Performing in front of a crowd every evening? A beloved singer who was earning enough money to support herself and her mother? Finding a sweet man to love and share a home with? Being allowed to do whatever she wanted?
She might not be able to see what the future had prepared for her—but she could not imagine a future without freedom. It was the only thing that mattered in this life, after all.
*
Siena sighed again. Her younger self had certainly been quite naive—as children tend to be. Was that perhaps why her mother had lied to her back then? To allow her to live inside some sweet fantasy for a while, knowing that reality would catch up with her sooner rather than later?
Perhaps. And perhaps her younger self had not been completely mistaken. Freedom was indeed the essence of life. And it was why she had chosen this path.
Suddenly, she noticed the clouds above lifting slightly as the moonlight painted the dark waves with streaks of silver. Apparently, there would not be a storm after all.
Siena took a deep breath, then decided to finally return inside. The future was her own still. It would always be her own. She would never accept anything less.
Fandom: Bridgerton
Characters: Siena Rosso, Original Characters
Rating: T
Words: 1.1k
Summary: Siena overhears some fellow singers discuss her relationship with the Viscount after he left her.
A/N: For Siena Week 2026 - Day 2: "Most Notorious Opera Singer"
-> You can also read it on AO3
As Siena was already on her way to leave the theatre, she suddenly halted at the sound of exciting chatter coming from a dressing room close to her.
Should she enter and talk to the other singers for a moment?
She was rather tired, yet she also knew that she had not been fostering and maintaining too many friendship those past two years. Living in a different part of town, the commute had been quite long. And she had also tried spending every spare minute with the Viscount. How foolish of her.
Friendships were more important. They usually lasted longer. And so Siena pushed her exhaustion aside and decided to enter the dressing room.
Yet just as she was about to walk through the door, she suddenly heard her name being mentioned.
She froze, listening keenly.
“Has Siena already left?”
She recognised that voice as Marianne’s—a fellow soprano who was around her age.
“I believe so.”
That was Beatrice—a singer in her late forties, who had already been with the theatre for over twenty years. That time had not granted her wisdom and patience, however. It had merely made her increasingly more judgemental. Understandable, perhaps. If Siena was still stuck at this place twenty years from now, she might as well just give up.
“Oh well,” Marianne sighed. “I wanted to ask her whether she wished to join us at White’s tonight.”
Now that’s an excellent idea, Siena thought. She would have to visit the gentleman's club again soon, if she wanted to find herself a new arrangement. And she had spent enough time sulking those past two weeks. It was time to move on.
Yet before she could enter the room, a third woman chimed in: Emily, who had joined them last year and had just turned nineteen a few months ago.
“Why would Siena visit the club?” she asked. “Doesn’t she have a viscount already?”
“Haven’t you heard?” asked Beatrice. “He threw her out.”
Siena suppressed a groan. Yet she did not walk away.
“Truly?” Emily asked, sounding quite shocked.
“Don’t be so surprised,” Beatrice replied casually. “Young, unmarried viscount—only a fool would’ve believed him to be sincere.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Emily. “He came to visit her here constantly. Clearly, he was fond of her”
Beatrice laughed. “Have you never met a man before?” she asked. “They will do anything as long as they get to see what’s under your skirts.”
“That might be true,” Marianne chimed in. “But I still believe he cared for her. Siena is smart,” she added. “She would’ve never relied on him otherwise.”
Well, if she thought so, who was Siena to disagree?
“And he clearly didn’t mind what other people thought,” Emily stated. “He came to visit her here constantly, even though he knew that everyone was aware of their affair.”
“You think a viscount gives a damn about what some opera singer think of him?” Beatrice scoffed. “Sure, he visited her here. But did you ever hear Siena talk about him? Have you ever met her on the streets, arm in arm with him? He got her a flat on the other side of town—obviously he did not wish to be seen with her.”
Siena bit her lips. Beatrice might not be wrong. But she had no right to say it. Truly, none of them should be talking about her private matters in any way. She had tried her best to keep the whole thing quiet. But of course, there was no such thing as a secret around here.
“Well, he’s a viscount. What do you expect?” Marianne asked. “Of course he wouldn’t parade her around. Which is why I agree that it was always meant to come to an end eventually. But I still believe that he cared for her,” she added. “And that affection had fooled her into believing that it could be more than a fleeting affair. She deserved better. Now, the only thing she gained from it all is endless gossip.”
“Well, that’s her own fault,” Beatrice replied. “Shouldn’t have been involved with a viscount, if she didn’t want to become the most notorious opera singer in all of London. But at least he was handsome,” she added and Siena could hear the grin on her face. “Hopefully she got some fun out of it.”
“Oh, don’t talk like that!” Emily protested. “She might be heartbroken!”
Beatrice chuckled. “Yeah, sure. Siena’s one of the most calculated people around here. She will find herself another gentleman in a few days and forget about his existence, mark my words.”
“Well, I do think it’s best for her to find some new,” Marianne agreed. “That’s why I wanted to invite her to join us tonight.”
Siena had heard enough. This was the perfect opportunity to enter and she did not wait for it to pass again.
She walked through the door then as they all stared up at her from their seats—wide eyes, with the flustering expression of a child that had just been caught doing something forbidden.
Though, of course, they did not know that Siena had heard everything. And under different circumstances, Siena might have let them know—just to vex them a little.
However, she did not wish to push away a friend who had planned to help her out.
Therefore, she looked at Marianne, asking with an innocent smile, “Invite me where?”
But before Marianne could reply anything, Emily jumped to her feet. “I just heard about the Viscount. I’m truly sorry! Are you alright? Do you have a place to stay?”
“I’m living with a friend,” Siena replied plainly, remaining unfazed.
“Well, I wanted to ask whether you’d like to join me at White’s tonight?” Marianne told her then.
Siena gave her a smile. “That sounds great. I will meet you there.”
And with that, she turned around, the smile fading immediately.
The most notorious opera singer in all of London. Was that truly who she was now? She had never wished to be considered notorious. Well, of course, opera singers were somewhat notorious by default. But she wished to be known for her talent and skill first—not her private affairs.
She desperately wished to blame the Viscount for this. After all, he had decided to visit her at the theatre constantly; had always been a bit negligent, despite his desperate attempts to keep her a secret.
But in the end, he had simply been too aloof to understand how rumours travelled around here. And perhaps, he had never truly cared. It hardly affected him. And she could have told him not to visit her; could have avoided all of this by never giving him a single minute of her time.
But in truth, she had enjoyed it—had enjoyed their clandestine meetings in public places; had enjoyed his daring visits; had enjoyed him.
He had lied to her. But she was hardly a little girl anymore. She was angry at herself for allowing him to fool her.
And now, that affair was all that she was known for.
Fandom: Bridgerton
Characters: Siena Rosso, Genevieve Delacroix
Pairing: Siena & Genevieve, past Anthony/Siena
Rating: T
Words: 1.4k
Summary: When Genevieve notices that Siena was quite drunk, she decides to ask some questions.
A/N: For Siena Week 2026 - Day 3: "Drunken Confessions"
-> You can also read it on AO3
Genevieve pursed her lips, watching her friend pour herself yet another glass of wine.
Siena’s hands were surprisingly steady—yet when she leaned back into her chair, half the wine flew out of the glass, seeping into her dress.
“Oh shit!”
Siena tried cleaning the stain with her bare hand—which was unnecessary, as her dress was the same colour as the wine.
Apparently, she realised that as well, as she muttered, “Well, at least it’s not noticeable.”
Then, she took a sip from her drink.
Genevieve did the same, still watching her quietly. She had spent many fun evenings with Siena in the past, so this was certainly not the drunkest she had ever seen her. Though, she also knew that Siena was always more drunk than she seemed. Perhaps it was her vocal control, which helped her not to slur her words; or her posture, which kept her balanced; or her ability as a perform to always play a role, even when she felt like shit. Or maybe, it was just in her nature—hiding vulnerability at all cost.
Yet Genevieve had known that girl for many years. And she had been sharing many drinks with her over the course of that time. She would be vulnerable eventually. And she was undoubtedly drunker than she seemed. Because they had opened the first bottle less than an hour ago. The one Siena had just filled her glass with was already bottle number two. And Genevieve had not helped much with it.
“What’s going on with you?” she asked Siena then.
“What?”
“We’ve just opened the second bottle—and I’d argue you’ve drowned most of the first one by yourself. Have you even eaten anything today?” she added. She did not wish to sound like her mother. They were barely ten years apart in age. But it was a necessary question.
“Breakfast, I think,” Siena muttered, taking another sip. “I’m just exhausted from work.”
Genevieve eyed her curiously. Perhaps her drunken state might allow her to be more honest this time, if she persisted with her questions.
Therefore, she said carefully, “Now, I will say something that might make you mad, but I have to ask: does this have anything to do with the Viscount’s engagement to Miss Edwina Sharma?”
“What? No!” Siena protested immediately, staring at her in shock and confusion. Perhaps she was not drunk enough after all.
Genevieve just raised her brows, waiting for Siena to take another sip from her glass. Then, her friend sighed, adding, “I just wish people would stop talking about him. It’s tiring.”
“Is that all?” Genevieve continued asking. But Siena did not reply anything to that. “You know, at least I’m quite certain he’s not in love with her.”
Siena shook her head, staring down at the glass in her hand. “Everything I said to him that evening … I … I did want to hurt him, but I didn’t…” She trailed off as a sigh left her lips. “He deserves to be happy.”
She looked back up at her, a forced smile on her face.
Now that did make sense. Well, Genevieve would prefer it if Siena was merely cursing him to hell instead of wishing him happiness. But although Siena might never admit it, Genevieve knew quite well that she had been in love with him. She could not comprehend why—but that hardly mattered.
“You regret being too harsh with him?” Genevieve asked then.
Again, Siena just shook her head. “I had to be harsh. He would’ve never walked away otherwise. But … I still wonder…” She sighed again, taking another sip from her wine. “Maybe I should’ve just gone to the ball with him.”
Genevieve’s eyes widened as she stared at Siena in shock. Siena, however, did not seem to notice it. She was staring down at her glass again, seemingly lost in thought.
“Wait—did we just go from regretting that you might’ve been too harsh to regretting that you didn’t stay with him?” she asked bewildered, prompting Siena to look up at her again. “That was a good thing, Siena! And you know it.”
“Yes, I do, I…” She trailed off as her eyes fluttered in confusion. “But still … What if that could’ve been me now?” she asked, looking at her helplessly.
“You wanted to become Viscountess?” Genevieve asked, quite sceptical that this was truly what her friend wished for.
“No, no … I just … I don’t know…” She took a deep breath then, seemingly as confused as Genevieve was right now. “A part of me hates him. But … there’s another part as well. A part that doesn’t. A part that might even … might even love him still.”
And there it was. A love confession. She might be even drunker than Genevieve had realised.
Again, Siena was staring down at the glass in her hand. Genevieve almost regretted asking all those questions. She had not planned for her friend to feel miserable.
But then again, she had only asked, because she had been certain that Siena was still struggling in some ways. Not talking about certain matters did not mean that they were no burden.
“That’s not a bad thing,” Genevieve told her gently, leaning towards her to brush along her arm. “You rarely ever talk about it. You didn’t want me to mention his name after he threw you out; never wished to speak of that night he showed up here, in front of my door step, and you let him enter. Then, one morning, you told me about the ball—and afterwards pretended like he had never existed. Perhaps talking is good.”
Siena shook her head. “I just … I just wish I hated him.”
She took another sip from her drink as Genevieve gave her a smile. “See it this way: walking away from someone you despise is easy. But walking away from someone you love? Now that takes courage. You did a good thing; a brave thing. Perhaps you merely need to find someone new.”
“I have someone new.”
“Maybe someone you didn’t meet while everything with the Viscount was still going on,” Genevieve replied as Siena stared up at her in surprise. “Someone truly new—someone exciting; someone you can fall in love with.”
But Siena merely shook her head again. “I’m glad where I am right now. I can’t risk anything.”
Genevieve hated hearing her talk like that.
“Well, the Siena I met all those years ago was very much willing to risk it all for her freedom. Always careful and calculated, yes. But never timid or complacent.”
“Well, I’m not that woman anymore.”
Siena was not looking at her. Yet Genevieve could hear the truth behind her words nonetheless.
“It’s alright to be scared,” Genevieve told her softly and Siena stared back up at her with raised brows. “You spent all your time with the Viscount, believing to know the future ahead of you. And it all changed in the brink of a second. You need time to adjust. But you can’t be afraid forever. Otherwise, you will never be able to truly move forward.”
Siena stared at her, biting her lips—apparently uncertain whether to take her words to heart or not.
Then, Siena took another sip from her drink. If she continued like that, she would probably not remember a single word from this conversation tomorrow morning. Genevieve could not risk that.
She emptied her own glass, stood up and said, “Now, let’s get you to bed.”
“What? I’m not finished yet!” Siena protested.
“You’re one drink away from hurling all over the floor,” Genevieve retorted. “And I’m not going to clean that up.”
It seemed like Siena wanted to retort something. But then, she sighed. She put the glass down, standing up as well. She swayed slightly, but Genevieve caught her and led her to the guestroom.
After ensuring Siena would stay inside the bed, Genevieve returned to the living room and poured herself another glass of wine.
Siena would be fine, she knew that. Yet her heart still ached for her. If it were not for sweet Edwina, Genevieve would wish the Viscount the worst marriage of all time.
But eventually, Siena would forget all about that man. The only thing Genevieve feared was that her friend might make decisions that were not in her favour, just to play it safe. He had broken a part of her spirit—not enough for it to be irreparable, but enough for it to be dangerous.
Yet at the same time, she knew Siena quite well. In the end, she was too stubborn and proud to allow a man to harm her future in any way.
Fandom: Bridgerton
Characters: Siena Rosso, Kate Sharma, Agatha Danbury
Pairing: Siena & Kate, past Anthony/Siena, minor Kate/Anthony
Rating: T
Words: 2.4k
Summary: After performing at a ball, Siena suddenly notices a woman crying in the hallway.
A/N: For Siena Week 2026 - Day 3: "Drunken Confessions"
-> You can also read it on AO3
Siena hurried towards her designated room, trying to change as quickly as possible. She threw off the heavy gown and slipped into the comfort of her own clothes; rubbed the makeup off her face; removed the pins from her hair, letting her curls fall freely over her shoulder.
Then, she took a deep breath, looking at herself in the mirror.
She had sworn herself to not perform at a ball this season. Her career was stable enough to politely decline the few invitations she had received. Perhaps it had been foolish; perhaps it was maddening that he was still controlling her life. But she had not wished to risk it—had not wished to see the Viscount, and she was quite certain that he had not wished to see her either.
But then, Lady Trowbridge had approached her personally—and with a very pretty sum.
Therefore, Siena had agreed to perform at her ball this evening.
And nothing of note had happened. Yet she still felt tense.
She had noticed him almost immediately. And he had also noticed her. Then, he had asked his betrothed to dance with him.
Had he done so on purpose to vex Siena? But then again, she had been flirting with the Duke in front of him not too long ago. Perhaps they were even now.
She felt quite sorry for the poor girl, however. Edwina Sharma was her name. She had seemed quite young—and most likely did not know what she was in for.
But that was none of Siena’s business.
She grabbed her shawl, then left the room.
She hurried in the direction of the servants’ quarters—but as she passed the corner of a small hallway, she halted.
At the end of the corridor was a large window. And below that window sat a woman—hugging her knees, her face buried. She was crying.
Which was none of Siena’s business either.
But still, she could not simply walk away. Something horrendous might have happened.
Therefore, Siena took a deep breath and then carefully approached the woman. Or girl, perhaps? Maybe it was just some sweet debutante, crying because no one had asked her to dance.
“Are you alright?”
Startled, the person looked up at her with wide eyes. Woman it was. Around her own age, even.
“Yes … yes, I’m fine,” she stuttered, brushing away her tears. Then, she tried standing up—placing her hands on the windowsill as she began to sway.
A drunk woman.
Well, that was the kind of woman Siena knew how to deal with.
The woman sank back down then, staring at the floor.
“You do not look fine,” Siena stated. “Should I call for someone?”
“No please — don’t tell my Mama or sister!” she pleaded. “They can’t … they can’t see me like this.”
Still, she did not look up at her.
“Alright. I won’t tell anyone,” Siena promised her.
The woman nodded, still staring at the floor. She might not be a girl, but Siena could certainly not leave her alone like that.
She sighed, then decided to sit down next to her.
“I’m Siena.”
“Kate.”
“Did something happen, Kate?” Siena asked. “You can be honest with me. I’m just an opera singer. I don’t even know what your Mama looks like.”
Kate glanced up at her for a quick moment, then back down to the floor.
“It’s just … it’s my sister’s engagement,” she sighed. “And yes, we came here to secure her future. We used our last money to travel here, so that she can find a good husband. And I … I should be thrilled but … but my sister deserves to find love as well. He might be a viscount but I know that he doesn’t love her.”
At her last words, Siena tensed—staring at her with wide eyes. Thankfully, Kate was still looking at the floor, not noticing her odd reaction.
Siena took a deep breath, then asked, “Your sister is engaged to the Viscount Bridgerton?”
Now, Kate did look at her—a small smile on her lips.
“I guess now you know who my sister and Mama are.”
“Well … I still won’t tell,” Siena assured her. “But … are you certain he does not love her?”
Why are you asking that?
Siena had already assumed that he did not. She was way too young and sweet for him. But still … she would like to know.
“He doesn’t look for a love match,” Kate replied as her gaze wandered back to the floor. “He made that quite clear from the beginning.”
“And is your sister aware of it?”
Kate bit her lips. “He told her so…” she muttered. “And I told her as well. But then … he started pursuing her—relentlessly. I don’t know why. I guess he can’t lose. He saw all those other men competing for her attention … and me trying to stop him from getting close to her,” she added. “It turned into a competition for him. She’s his trophy. And he’s lying to her.”
Siena felt her chest tighten. She knew that Anthony was not an awful man. He did awful things sometimes—but he could be good too.
Yet how could she tell her that without letting her know of their acquaintance?
“But … but many marriages are based on duty,” Siena said carefully then. “It doesn’t mean it has to be loveless. He might fall in love with her eventually. I’m certain there are things he admired her for.”
“I do believe he considers her a good fit as viscountess,” Kate muttered, her glazed eyes glued to the floor. “But that shouldn’t be all. And yes, he can be kind—when he wants to be. And funny and gentle and…”
She trailed off as Siena stared at her. Those were quite a lot of compliments for a man she apparently despised.
Kate took a deep breath, then said, “But I don’t think he will ever love her…”
“Why?”
Stop with all those questions!
She noticed Kate biting her lips before she muttered, “There’s … there’s someone else he’s interested in.”
Of course.
Siena still had trouble comprehending the entire situation, but she believed that she finally understood why Kate Sharma had cried earlier. It was always the same.
Siena had never expected to be able to relate to a lady—but she could understand Kate Sharma quite well right now. After all, she knew what it felt like to have one’s heart broken by the Viscount Bridgerton.
“But it doesn’t matter,” Kate said then, shaking her head as she attempted to stand up again—successfully this time. “I’m sorry. I should … I should get home…”
Siena stood up as well—just in time to catch her, as she staggered in her direction.
“Alone?”
Now, Kate looked at her again—a desperate plea in her eyes.
“They can’t see my like this!”
Siena nodded. “Then … then come with me. You can rest at my place until you’re ready to face your family again.”
Kate stared at her in shock—the same shock Siena felt right now. But she had been grateful to all those strangers in the past who had offered her a sofa to sleep on. Well, she did not believe that any of those strangers had ever been the former lovers of her current affair. But Kate did not need to know that.
Siena gave her a smile, adding, “You can’t walk home on your own like this. It’s too dangerous.”
“But … but they will worry when they realise I’m not home.”
“Well … is there someone else we could tell?” Siena asked.
Kate seemed to think about it for a moment—then she said, “Lady Danbury.” Siena raised her brows and Kate clarified, “We’re living with her.”
Siena nodded at that. “Fine. You stay here. I will talk to Lady Danbury.”
She helped Kate lean back against the windowsill, then left the small hallway.
Siena had heard of Lady Danbury before—and had even seen her a few times, although they had never shared a word. If there was someone who deserved to be called a lady, it was her.
As she could not simply walk into the ballroom, searching for her, Siena decided to approach a maid instead, asking for Lady Trowbridge.
When Lady Trowbridge came, Siena told her that she had to speak to Lady Danbury regarding an urgent matter. Surprisingly, Lady Trowbridge did not seem surprised or suspicious, but immediately went to search for Lady Danbury.
Then, Lady Danbury appeared—who did seem surprised and suspicious.
Immediately, Siena told her what had happened. There was an arched brow, but otherwise, Lady Danbury’s face remained blank.
To Siena’s surprise, she then however said, “Fine. Do you have a card on you? I will send someone to pick her up tomorrow.”
Siena did not expect it to be that easy. Did she have an honest face after all? Or did Lady Danbury knew Kate Sharma well enough to accept this as the truth? It had to be one of those things, because she did not seem like a woman that trusted anyone too easily.
Siena handed her a card then as Lady Danbury asked, “Do you believe you can handle this on your own?”
“Yes,” Siena replied with a nod. “She’s not drunk enough to pass out. I just don’t believe she should be alone.”
Lady Danbury nodded at that. Then, suddenly, she asked, “Does Miss Sharma know who you are?”
“An opera singer?” Siena asked innocently—although she had a suspicion to the true nature of that question.
“You know what I mean,” Lady Danbury replied, proving her right. “She might not feel too comfortable walking home with the Viscount’s former mistress.”
“Well … then she doesn’t have to know, does she?” Siena replied with a smile.
Lady Danbury sighed. But then, she nodded as she said, “Miss Sharma is a grown woman who can make her own decisions. But I will be at that address tomorrow morning to ensure that she is fine.”
Siena nodded—quite surprised that Lady Danbury did not wish to talk to Kate herself. How well did they know each other?
Perhaps a part of Siena had almost wished that Lady Danbury would take care of the matter herself. She did feel sorry for Kate, but she was also quite exhausted herself. But now, she was the one who began to feel suspicious. Why would she let a stranger take care of Kate?
Yet the eyes she was looking into were quite old—and they had seen it all. It was probably for the same reason why Siena had just invited a complete stranger to sleep on her sofa. They all had to look out for each other.
Lady Danbury returned to the ballroom then as Siena hurried back to get Kate.
Slowly, they made it through the backdoor of the house, without being seen, and then walked along the dimly lit streets. Thankfully, Siena’s flat was not too far away—merely about fifteen minutes. Though, at their speed, perhaps half an hour.
Kate was a good bit taller than her. Siena had put Kate’s arm around her own shoulder to steady her, but she was quite heavy. Though, it did seem like it had been a while since her last drink. Eventually, she stopped swaying and merely seemed exhausted.
By the time Siena had settled her down on the sofa in the living room, Kate’s pained face made her believe that the drunkenness had begun to fade and the first signs of a headache had appeared. Under different circumstances, Siena would have offered her a drink as a cure. But on their way home, Kate had been talking about how she rarely ever drank—maybe a sip; occasionally a glass of wine. According to her own words, she had never been that drunk. And apparently, she seemed quite ashamed of it.
Siena had smiled slightly at that. Whatever regret Kate had now, it would only be worse tomorrow morning. But for that, Siena would be there. Quite a few nice evening had been erased from her memory thanks to some good wine. She knew how to help her.
“Thank you,” Kate said with a smile as Siena brought her a blanket.
“No problem.”
Siena bit her lips then. She should probably wish her a good night. But still, she was curious.
“You said the Viscount is interested in someone else?”
Immediately, Kate’s eyes shot to the floor.
“It’s … it’s nothing. I don’t think he’s serious.”
A slight smirk appeared on Siena’s face. “Well, apparently serious enough for you to worry.”
Kate stared up at her in surprise and the smirk left her lips.
Should she tell her? Why not? It was all in the past either way.
Siena took a deep breath, then said, “I know the Viscount as well.” Kate’s eyes widened even more as Siena bit her lips. “We … we had an affair a while ago.”
Suddenly, Kate’s surprise turned into realisation.
“You’re the opera singer,” she stated. “I … I heard about you while I was trying to…”
She trailed off as a smile appeared on Siena’s face again.
“Trying to learn more about him?”
“For my sister’s sake.”
“Of course.” She suppressed a chuckle and gave her a smile instead. “Look, I know that he can be an ass—trust me, I might know that better than anyone else,” Siena told her. “But … he’s not a bad man. He’s just … a little messed up. Yet people can change. They can grow. Sometimes…” She sighed, looking down to her feet. “Sometimes they merely need to meet the right person to do so.”
She looked back at Kate, who stared at her in confusion. But then, she nodded.
“Perhaps,” said Kate. “And maybe Edwina will be able to change him.”
“I wasn’t talking about your sister.”
Kate raised her brows, seemingly confused. But Siena merely gave her a smile. Then, she stood up, saying, “I will be upstairs. If you need anything, just call me.”
She wished her a good night then before leaving the room. This was all a bit ridiculous. But Siena hoped that there might be a chance to continue this conversation once Kate was completely sober again. She would like to know what she had to say then. The fact that she had still seemed rather articulate, despite her drunken state, made her believe that Kate must be a rather smart woman.
Though, that possibly only meant that she would be even less likely to open up once she was sober. After all, only a fool would admit to being in love with the Viscount Bridgerton.
Fandom: Bridgerton
Characters: Siena Rosso, Edwina Sharma
Pairing: Siena/Edwina
Rating: T
Words: 852
Summary: Siena and Edwina are enjoying a bottle of wine together.
A/N: For Siena Week 2026 - Day 3: "Drunken Confessions"
-> You can also read it on AO3
“I love you!”
Siena almost dropped her glass of wine as she stared at Edwina with wide eyes. Had she heard that right? Possibly. But was that merely the wine talking? Perhaps.
Edwina was indeed quite drunk. Which had not necessarily been Siena’s intention. She had merely wished to enjoy a nice evening with her, sharing a bottle of wine in her living room. And maybe she had also hoped that the wine might help Edwina relax a little. She always seemed quite flustered around Siena. But apparently, Edwina was not used to drinking.
Slowly, the realisation of her own words began to appear on Edwina’s face. Then, there was shock—until eventually, she stared into her lap, flustered again, as she muttered, “I … I wanted to say that I wish to kiss you.” She bit her lips as Siena watched her curiously—amused and bewildered at the same time. “Which might be even worse, so … let’s stay with I love you…”
Carefully, Edwina glanced up at her again. A smile formed on Siena’s lips.
It was hardly a revelation. Siena had been quite aware of Edwina’s affection since the first time they had met. She was not very good at hiding it. And well … a part of Siena had perhaps quite enjoyed the thought of it; had perhaps been hoping for something like this to happen tonight.
“Well … if you want to kiss me, then kiss me.”
Edwina’s eyes widened. “Truly?”
Siena bit her lip as she chuckled, “Yes.”
Edwina continued staring at her, as if unable to comprehend her words. Then, without looking away, she slowly put her glass down and stood up.
Immediately, she began staggering to the side and Siena jumped out of her seat, catching her in time.
“Or perhaps it’s time to go to sleep,” Siena replied, suppressing a chuckle.
“That might be a good idea,” Edwina muttered with a faint smile.
So no kiss tonight. But perhaps tomorrow—if Edwina remembered anything about this evening.
Siena then helped her to the guestroom, but left again to grant her privacy to undress. She returned to the living room, collecting the glasses. But just as she arrived inside the kitchen to clean them, Edwina suddenly called, “Can you help me?”
Siena put down the glasses and hurried towards the room.
Edwina’s back was turned to her. She had successfully removed her dress—yet struggled to unlace her corset.
Naturally. Ladies’ corsets were laced at the back. They had maids to dress them, after all. But tonight, there was only Siena.
Edwina’s arms were behind her back, trying to open her corset as she mumbled, “I can’t get out of my clothes. Could you…?”
She trailed off as she faced her with raised brows.
Siena gave her a smile. “Of course.”
Edwina turned around again as Siena stepped behind her and carefully began to open her corset. Her fingers worked their way down as her eyes were glued to the nape of her neck—to the soft skin that was glistening in the warm candlelight. She could let her fingers linger there for a moment. Or perhaps, she could even plant a quick kiss.
Siena inhaled sharply, looking down as she finished untying Edwina’s corset. Not tonight.
Successfully, Siena had opened the corset and put it aside. Edwina turned around then—merely wearing her chemise with her thick hair falling into her face as a tender smile graced her lips.
“Thank you.”
Again, Siena’s eyes shot to her feet. “Good night,” she muttered plainly before turning around to leave.
“Could you stay?”
Siena halted in her steps. Then, she took a deep breath, turning around again as she raised her brows in confusion.
Edwina bit her lips. “I … everything is spinning,” she muttered, her voice weary. “I don’t know how to fall asleep.”
But my presence will help you?
Siena did not reply that, however. Instead, she merely said, “Of course.”
So as Edwina slipped under the blanket, Siena began to remove her own dress and shoes and corset. The heat rushed into her face as she could feel Edwina’s gaze on her. Which was silly. Edwina was the flustered one. Not her.
Trying to hide it, Siena quickly extinguished the candle and then joined her inside the bed.
They were facing each other. It was dark now, but the faint moonlight helped Siena notice a small smile on Edwina’s lips—and also the fact that they were incredibly close now.
Edwina might have realised that as well, as she bit her lip, flustered again.
But then, Siena could feel how she leaned closer; could feel her warm breath on her skin; could feel a strand of hair tickle her nose.
Until suddenly, her soft lips touched hers.
For a moment, Siena forgot how to breathe. But then, she closed her eyes, leaning into the sweet kiss.
Too soon, Edwina pulled back—giving her a smile as she whispered, “Good night.”
Then, she closed her eyes.
Siena did not, however. She continued watching her fall asleep, a smile on her face, until the sun began to rose again.
For the Siena Rosso Appreciation Week, Day Two Prompt: Most notorious opera singer in all of London
This is my final work for the Siena Rosso Appreciation Week 2026. It's a crack fic loosely inspired by the Adam and the Ants song Stand and Deliver. I wrote this with Siena x Anthony in mind but, since no names are exchanged, it would work as Siena x OMC if you prefer that read.
Rating: NC-17/NSFW (further details below the cut)
Content warning: Mild BDSM, Femdom, Adult
****
"Stand and deliver! Your money or your life!" Siena cried.
It was almost midnight on the high road to Shooter’s Hill.
Somewhere in the woods beyond, an owl hooted. But otherwise the only sounds that could be heard were the heavy breathing of the horses and the receding footfalls of the coachmen who had wisely decided that this wasn't their fight.
The carriage in front of her was perfect pickings for a highwaywoman like her. Shiny and stately with some sort of coat of arms on the side. No doubt the conveyance of some titled lord-or-other. She’d never been one to waste her time on robbing mailcoaches and carts carrying the common people. For her, it had to be the great-and-the-good or else it wasn’t worth doing the job at all.
Siena dismounted from her trusty steed and tied him carefully to the nearest oak tree.
With deft footsteps and her pistol in hand, she made her way towards the carriage. She could see a figure inside though she wasn’t close enough yet to make out who they were.
Half a dozen more steps forward and her hand was on the carriage door. Here it was. The big moment that never failed to bring her an illicit rush of excitement, even though she’d been in this highwaywoman game for three years now and had robbed countless swells before.
Surely whoever was in the carriage would have heard her warning cry the first time. But she always liked to say it again, face-to-face.
She pulled open the carriage door. “Stand and deliver! Your money or your life!”
A haughty face met her, lit gently by the moonlight. He was clearly aristocratic to the core.
Siena doubted he could see her beyond her outline. It was such a dark night. Besides, men like him seldom paid attention to highwaymen. One criminal was the same as another in the eyes of the great-and-the-good.
“Take what you want,” he said disinterestedly.
The pistol she was pointing in his direction didn’t seem to faze him at all. A man with nerves of steel.
“Then you should hand it over, sir,” she replied. Sometimes this was too easy. She’d lucked out tonight, a swell who must be so rich he wouldn’t even care that he was about to be robbed. Whatever he had in the carriage would only be a small proportion of his fortune.
“Very well.”
Siena kept the pistol pointed at the aristocrat. She watched him reach into a flap beneath the bench where he sat.
He pulled out a box and began rifling through it. He plucked out a few items and held them out to her.
A gold ring, some sort of broach with a ruby and a small velvet drawstring bag.
“There’s fifteen guineas in there,” he said. He barely gave a glance in her direction.
Siena examined the items one by one. Yes, the gold ring and the broach would fetch a pretty penny at the pawnbroker’s. And true to his word, there were fifteen guineas in the bag. “This is a good start, but surely you have more. A rich man such as your good self.”
The man reached into his jacket, presumably to get a few more coins. But then he stilled.
Ah yes! There it was. The flash of recognition. That this wasn’t an ordinary highwayman he was dealing with. No, it was a highwaywoman.
He squinted at her in the light. “Who are you?”
“The most notorious highwaywoman in England.” It was true. She’d never met another highwaywoman. In fact, she’d never heard of any. So by rights she was the most notorious.
The aristocrat parted his lips. A blend of surprise and raw desire. “And what makes you the most notorious?”
Siena’s mind whirred at the speed of forty horsepower. Thievery of course was one reason for her notoriety. But there was another, that she only divulged to certain audiences. Was this man perhaps part of such an audience? She suspected he very well might be and he did look oh so delicious. “Two things, sir. One, I am an excellent bandit. And two, I do so like to take what I want.”
“And what is it you want from me? Other than these extra coins.” The man reached into his jacket again, pulled out five guineas and placed them into her hand. He raised an eyebrow in expectation of her response.
“Well, a fine gentleman such as yourself must surely be experienced in pleasing a lady. But, tell me, have you ever been under the command of one?”
“More than a few times,” the man smirked. “One wonders how well you could command me?”
“Oh very well indeed. And I wonder how well you could obey? If I asked you to pleasure me with your hands?”
“Most excellently,” he said with a note of pride.
“Then, I look forward to it. Should either of us wish to stop, just say ‘Paris’.”
“‘Paris’ it is then.” He focused his gaze on her intently. His eyes were intoxicated by her presence.
Siena climbed into the carriage and shut the door behind her. Then she pointed at the floor. “Kneel here and face the bench.”
He moved quickly to comply with practiced deftness.
Siena nodded to herself with satisfaction. Yes, this was a man who was no stranger to submission. Like so many men of the ton, he was likely no stranger to the delights of the ‘governesses’ of Soho.
She removed her hessian boots, followed by her leather breeches. Then she went to sit on the bench where the gentleman had been sitting only mere moments before. She settled herself into the plushness of the leather seat and spread her legs. “Show me what those hands of yours can do,” she cooed.
The man shuffled towards her.
Siena drank in the sight of him. It was always such a thrilling sight to see a proud gentleman brought to his knees.
Coming to a stop at her feet, he ran his hands up and down her calves in worshipful appreciation. The light touch of his fingers proved how expert he was.
She let forth a moan of enjoyment. “Very good. But you should try going a little higher.”
He quirked an eyebrow and smirked, before complying with her instructions and reaching the backs of her knees.
She let herself bask in the glow of his attentions. A pleasant sensation began to build within her core.
His deft hands moved higher still, up over her thighs.
“You are a most excellent swell,” she laughed contentedly. “And now, I believe you know what to do.”
He hummed in agreement. His strong fingers found the space between her legs and with focused precision, found her clit in a matter of moments. She was absolutely sopping wet.
“Yes, that’s it,” she said.
He moved his right index finger forward and back, around and around. Through every range of motion that most delighted Siena.
Before she knew it, she was on the edge of that precipice of pleasure. And then she was falling down, down, down into that ocean of wonders.
Every breath from her was faster than the one before.
The man kept up his skilled attentions on her clit.
She bucked her hips in need, trying to claim every inch of satisfaction she could. Over and over, she fell off the edge and into sheer ecstasy.
Eventually, the bucking of her hips slowed and her breathing returned to its regular steadiness.
She looked down at him with hooded eyes. “Well, swell, you really are a most talented man.”
“Thank you, I aim to please,” he said with a grin.
Siena was glad to hear it. Though she had robbed the swell blind, it didn’t hurt to ensure the experience was mutually enjoyable for the both of them. She was a highwaywoman, not a callous brute after all. This was a man who clearly liked praise so why not congratulate him on something he was good at.
She looked down at him more closely. There was a tent formed in his breeches. It didn’t bother her, but she wasn’t going to do anything about that. He could tend to that himself after she’d departed if he so wished.
She put her breeches and shoes back on and raised herself from the bench. “I should be off. It was nice seeing you, swell.”
And before the man had a chance to reply, Siena opened the carriage door and jumped down onto the grass. Looking back wasn’t an option. It had been a most successful night and now she had to hurry back to London.
She made the short distance back to her beloved horse. She mounted her steed, clicked her tongue and made for home post-haste. Twenty guineas, a broach and a ring richer.
It had been a most profitable and pleasurable night indeed.
As she said to tonight’s swell, she was the most notorious highwaywoman in England.
But what he didn’t also know was that that made her the most notorious opera singer in London. It was a private joke between herself and her good friend Genevieve Delacroix. One of the very few people who had any idea of Siena’s nocturnal adventures. Siena didn’t fill her in on all the details. Just enough for Genevieve to have a hazy idea of how she made her real money.
Living like this was wild and risky. Maybe it couldn’t last forever. But for however long it lasted, it meant Siena made her own fortune and needed to rely on no man and no protector.
For the Siena Rosso Appreciation Week, Day Three Prompt: Drunken Confessions
****
"I can still remember, you know," Anthony said.
Siena wrinkled her nose in confusion. Her husband had already had several whiskies and was clearly in his cups. Mind you, she was heading the same way. "Remember what, dear?"
"How beautiful you looked the night we met," he crooned.
"What? That night in Covent Garden?"
The light of the fire in their private sitting room bathed him in a warm glow. Siena still found him irresistible.
"Yes, the very same!" He leaned forward in excitement. "And I also remember what you were wearing that night. How simply stunning you were!"
"Anthony," Siena giggled.
"And, of course, still are," he added meaningfully. He took a sip of his whisky. "Yes, that night in Covent Garden. You wore that white toga with the tiara when you sang. A real goddess of myth and legend. And then I came backstage to find you, my goddess, and there you were. In your dressing room, still dressed as Aphrodite."
Siena's heart leapt a little. Even though he was in his cups, Anthony was always so sweet when he was with her. So different from the stern viscount some outside the family believed him to be. She well understood, though, why he sometimes worked to keep that reputation alive. Leaders of great families didn't maintain their power and protect their families without some steel, after all.
“We should find it,” Anthony said.
“Find what?”
“Why, your Aphrodite costume. I should like to see you again in it.”
“I’m not sure where that particular outfit would be. But I can ask Genevieve to make me one very similar.”
Genevieve Delacroix was one of Siena’s oldest friends, for over four decades now. She was still as deft with a needle as she had been back in the days of George III.
Anthony nodded. “I should like that very much.” He took a sip of his whisky. “I have plans for you in it. Important plans.”
“And what plans would those be, dear?”
“You shall find out in good time. All in good time, my goddess.”
Siena giggled. “I look forward to it.”
She leant back in the chair. Evenings like this with her husband were a simple pleasure. A world away from the heady days of the stages of London and the rest of Europe where she had trod the boards as a young woman. She was happy then and happy now, but for different reasons.
They sat together in companionable silence for a couple of minutes.
Then, Siena broke it. “Henry and Alice will be here the day after tomorrow.”
“I look forward to it.” Anthony smiled at the thought of his heir and his daughter-in-law coming to visit.
“Alas,” Siena said. “That doesn’t give us much more time to ourselves. It would be a shame to waste the opportunity of time for just us together.”
“It would be a real shame, indeed.” A playful glimmer shone in his eyes.
She stood up and held out her hand. “Shall I have the pleasure of this dance, my handsome husband?”
He laughed in appreciation and rose to his feet. “I would never want to deny you a single thing, my goddess.”
And with that, he took her in his arms and they began to move around the room. The whisky made their waltz a clumsy one, but that didn’t matter to the dancers.
For the Siena Rosso Appreciation Week, Day Seven Prompt: Free Space
AU with Aristocrat!Siena Rosso and Opera Singer!Anthony Bridgerton
****
Donna Siena Rosso leaned over the balcony from the box.
The house lights dimmed and applause enwrapped the entire theatre. Another night in Covent Garden. Regular and reliable like clockwork.
Beside Siena, her younger sister Maria leaned closer and said, “Oh, I do so love this one! It’s wonderful. It really is my favourite.”
“Yes,” Siena whispered. “It’s such an amusing -”
But Siena didn’t get to finish her sentence because the orchestra struck up from the pit below.
Maria was right. Rosina was wonderful. Ever since she had first seen it performed seven years ago, Siena had adored its comedic story.
She let herself get swept away in the music. When, a few songs in, the most handsome man she had ever seen caught her eye. He was a tenor and with his dark hair and brown eyes, he was simply delicious. Siena could hardly keep her gaze from him for the rest of the performance.
When the final curtain fell and the last round of applause reverberated around the theatre, Siena made a choice. Some might call it wild and reckless. But she was a woman who knew what she wanted.
She turned to Maria. “I have something I need to attend to here. Tell Papa and Mama I had to retire early to my room due to a megrim, if anyone should ask you.”
Maria raised an eyebrow. “Pray tell sister, what is it you are doing?”
“The tenor. Wasn’t he dashing? I simply must find him. And tell him how much I appreciate him.”
“Well, on your own head be it.” Maria rolled her eyes and shook her head in exasperated affection.
Siena darted out of the box and hurried off to what she had heard on the rumour mill was the way to the backstage area. Surely if she looked hard enough, she would find the man of the evening.
Her long-suffering maid followed behind, calling, “My lady, my lady, what are you doing?”
Siena turned around for a moment. “I simply must speak with that tenor. Oh, wasn’t he worthy of a dream!”
Before the maid had a chance to reply, Siena was on the move again. She turned first to the left and then to the right and in short order she found herself standing in front of a row of identical cream doors. A couple of them were ajar.
The maid followed every step of her mistress closely. She wasn’t about to let her out of her sight. Donna Siena could be rather reckless at times.
Siena poked her head round one door, but all that was behind it was an empty dressing room.
The next door proved the winner. For there he was. The most dashing tenor. He was standing in front of his dressing table, supping on a glass of what looked like water.
Siena knocked on the slightly open door.
“My lady, I really must advise you,” the maid hissed in Siena’s ear. But before she got a chance to finish her thought, a voice came from inside the dressing room.
“Who is it?” the tenor called.
“A great admirer of your work,” Siena said.
He turned around to face her. His eyes widened at the sight before him. He made his way to the door, so that their faces were mere inches apart. “You shouldn’t be here, my lady,” he said under his breath.
“Whyever not?” Siena asked. She was two-and-twenty years of age now and more than old enough to make her own decisions.
He counted off one with his index finger. “For one, you are not part of this performing company.”
“And?”
“And, two. You are very obviously a lady or some such. Would not your father or your brothers be concerned about your whereabouts?”
“You are correct on all counts.”
The man sighed and ran a hand across the back of his own neck. “Then it is in both our interests for you to leave.”
Siena laughed. “I think not, sir!”
“Well, it is in the interests of propriety that you leave,” the man said.
“That may be so. But I have never paid the interests of propriety much attention.”
“My lady!” the man exclaimed with a mix of intrigue and outrage.
“Besides,” she added, “My maid is next to me, so I am not without a chaperone.”
The man opened the door wider and peeped his head round Siena. He could see her maid standing in the corridor, hands clasped and with a sour expression on her face.
A glimmer appeared in his eyes. “That is a relief, my lady. Pray tell, what is your name?”
“Donna Siena Rosso. And you, sir?”
“Anthony Bridgerton.”
“Well, it is a pleasure to meet you, Mr Bridgerton.”
“I do believe the pleasure is all mine, my lady.” Anthony took Siena’s hand between his own, brought it to his lips and placed a kiss atop it.
Siena felt all aflutter. So many gentlemen of the ton had kissed her hand before, but none had made her feel like this.
She regarded the man before her closely. He was so unlike the gentlemen of the ton whom she had met on the marriage mart. She wanted to know everything about him. “Sir, is Anthony Bridgerton your real name or is it a stage name?”
“It’s real. I’m named after my grandfather, the Reverend Anthony Bridgerton.”
Her eyebrows raised. “The reverend? How does the grandson of a reverend end up on the stage?"
“My whole family are musical. My father is in the church and there was talk of me joining too. But I’m passionate about performing. And besides, I can make more money on the stage in London than I ever could ecclesiastically. Father wouldn’t have it at first, but I won him around in the end."
“It is most fortunate, sir, that you have excellent powers of persuasion then. Or else we would all have been deprived of your most exemplary talents,” Siena said.
“Thank you, my lady.” He placed another kiss atop her hand. “And how does a donna find herself in London tonight?”
“I’ve been here most of my life. My family came over from Naples when I was a child.”
“To get away from Boney?”
“Yes,” she nodded.
“Well, I am sorry for your family’s troubles. But I must say, I am very glad to see you here tonight, my lady.” His voice was as smooth as silk.
“Thank you,” she laughed.
Somewhere behind Siena, there was a loud cough followed by the familiar tones of her maid. “My lady, it is getting rather late. Shan’t your parents be worried?”
Siena gave an internal huff of annoyance. If only she were a man. She could cavort with however many opera singers she wanted, at any time of the day or night. But because she was a daughter of the ton, she had to consider her reputation. And, for all her bravado earlier tonight, she couldn’t risk it.
Anthony looked at her with a glimmer of promise in his eyes. “Your maid is correct, my lady. It is getting late. Pray, where should I go to find you again?”
“Rudminster House on Berkeley Square.”
“Then I very much look forward to seeing you again, Donna Rosso.” He placed a parting kiss on her hand and then bowed.
“You too, Mr Bridgerton.”
Siena turned away and walked down the corridor, her maid following closely on her heels. Although tonight had not ended exactly the way Siena had fantasised, it still held the promise of being the beginning of even more.
Thank you to everyone who participated. I hope y’all had fun ❤️
You can find all the posts under the tag #sienarossoweek26
If you’re looking for a specific prompt, you can also search by day: Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7
And don’t forget to check out the AO3 collection as well!
And if you couldn’t make it in time for the event, but would still like to share something, don’t worry: I will continue to check the tag for one more week and the AO3 collection will remain open until June 30th.
If you got any feedback for the event – positive or negative – please let me know 😊
For the Siena Rosso Appreciation Week, Day Four Prompt: Clandestine Meetings
This one is a real tearjerker. I have a few more stories to post over the coming days for the Siena Rosso Appreciation Week which are happier/more light-hearted, however.
Content Warning: An AU where Anthony does not survive the duel with Simon
****
When I was writing this, I kept thinking of Shake It Off by Florence and the Machine. So that can be the unofficial soundtrack if you like.
****
Siena had been waiting in the house for several anxious hours. Awaiting news, any news at all, of Anthony.
Pistols at dawn was never going to end happily. Though she’d tried to tell herself that all would be well. That he would come through that door and the duel had been called off and it was all a horrible misunderstanding. That would have been the best outcome. The other two, both much more likely than a cancellation, hardly bore thinking about. The first would mean Anthony had killed someone. The second would mean he hadn’t survived the duel. Neither was any better than the other.
Siena’s stomach kept lurching as her mind raced from one dreadful thought to another. She couldn’t bring herself to eat or drink a morsel.
Eventually, there was a knock at the door. Her heart leapt. Could it possibly be him?
She went to open it. Only to reveal a Whistledown pamphleteer.
Before she had time to respond, the boy put a pamphlet in her hands and hurried off.
She stared down blankly at the pamphlet. Its uncharacteristic black border boded ominously. Her eyes scanned the front page and she let out a wail of despair.
Anthony was dead.
He had come off the worst in that stupid, stupid duel and now the Duke of Hastings was on the run.
Siena couldn’t remember what she did next, but at some point she must have closed the door because, shortly after sunset, she was sitting on the settee with her head in her hands and there was another knock at the door.
Part of her didn’t even want to get up to open it. Maybe if she ignored it, whoever it was would go away.
The knocking, however, continued.
Siena remained on the sofa. Why couldn’t they just leave her alone in her grief?
“Miss Rosso,” a voice called from the other side of the door.
She froze. That voice was unfamiliar and very few people even knew she lived here. Maybe she should answer the knocking after all. If nothing else, to tell the person to leave her alone and be on their way.
Again, she made her way to the door and opened it. Only this time, it wasn’t a Whistledown pamphleteer. It was a manservant in an all-too-familiar lilac livery. A member of the Bridgerton staff.
“Miss Rosso.” He gave a bow. “A message for you from Mr—Viscount Bridgerton.” He held out a letter sealed with a heavy wax seal.
And again, before she had time to make reply, the letterbearer had bowed once more and made a hasty exit.
Siena shut the door and ran her thumb over the wax seal. The Bridgerton coat of arms.
She tore it open. The hand wasn’t one she recognised.
Dear Miss Rosso,
By now, you will no doubt have heard of my brother’s passing. I have found some documentation he left behind which is of great importance and pertains to you. If you are able, may I request a meeting with you at nine o’clock tonight at the parlour of the Redruth Hotel to resolve the particulars. I do not wish to cause you any worry. I will not make a pauper of you and I know my brother would not have wanted such an outcome either.
Yours,
Benedict Bridgerton
Siena’s stomach lurched. This day had been one full of surprises and none of them pleasant. Now Benedict, a man she had only ever seen in passing at White’s and in the theatres, was the new Viscount Bridgerton. That was inevitable, she supposed, given Anthony had left no heirs. What was strange was that he wanted to meet with her of all people less than twenty four hours after the fatal duel. Wouldn’t he have more important things to be doing? And what was all this about not making a pauper of her?
She paced back and forth. Nothing made any sense. None of this day made any sense.
But Benedict had said he didn’t want to cause her any worry. What was more, the word around the backstages of the theatres and in the modiste’s dressing rooms was that Benedict was a good-hearted man, if rather a libertine.
She made up her mind. She was going to attend this most odd meeting this evening and see what he had to say.
The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed a quarter past eight o’clock. She had best start getting ready if she was going to make this mysterious rendezvous. A few quick ablutions and she threw on her black velvet cloak. The one Anthony had brought her when the winter began.
Ready, she headed out of the house and made her way west to the Redruth Hotel. Whatever awaited her there could not possibly make this day any stranger, could it?
~~~~
A few minutes before the clock struck nine, Siena made her way up the entrance steps of the Redruth Hotel.
She didn’t come here very often, but she had met a gentleman patron here a time or two before. She dashed through the lobby and into the hotel parlour.
It was hard to identify who was who out of the shadowy figures in the dimly lit room. A small fire crackled in one corner and there were only a few oil lamps here and there. Clearly, this was a place where one would go to meet if they did not wish to make their business widely known.
She ran her gaze carefully across the room. There he was. A familiar figure in profile, sitting alone at one of the small tables. Benedict Bridgerton.
She made her way towards him. “Mr Bridgerton, sorry, Viscount…” she broke off. This was all too much to handle. Today was too much to handle.
Benedict looked up at her. His eyes were red-rimmed like her own. “You don’t have to worry about all that.” He sighed. “I wish it wasn’t true.”
If his face was any colour tonight, it could only be described as grey. Like one of those statues of the great and the good in some public square.
He spoke again. “Thank you for coming, Miss Rosso.”
Siena gave a nod of acknowledgement.
“Please, have a seat,” he said.
She made to sit down, not bothering to remove her cloak. In fact, she might as well keep her cloak hood up entirely. The Redruth Hotel parlour was a place that seemed to smile on anonymity.
The pair sat at the table in silence for several moments, not meeting one another’s gaze.
Then, Benedict broke it. “My brother, this morning, right before. Well, you would know where and what I mean. He told me there was the name of a lady in his writing desk and that I must ensure she be provided for. So I am honouring his wish."
Siena’s eyes widened a little. Today kept getting stranger and stranger.
The new head of the Bridgerton family continued. “This afternoon, I was in his office because well isn’t that what a viscount should do?” He laughed mirthlessly. “So I went to his desk and of course found your name, for who else’s name could he have possibly have meant. And also this document.”
He reached inside his jacket and retrieved a piece of paper. He unfolded it and placed it in front of him, with the writing upside down from his point of view so Siena could read it with ease.
She could barely focus on what she was reading. With today’s events, nothing in front of her made any sense.
“My brother decided to settle a lump sum of £15,000 upon you, to ensure you are provided for,” Benedict said.
Siena’s breath caught. For a woman of her birth, this was a life changing sum. This would be a good dowry for almost any woman in the country, the higher tiers of the aristocracy such as the Bridgertons excluded.
She looked down again at the paper in front of her. Focusing her eyes, she realised that what Benedict was saying was true. This was Anthony’s hand without a doubt. And he really had intended for her to have £15,000 in the event of…well, in the event of something that didn’t bear thinking about. She gulped and a sob almost escaped her throat.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice quavering. “But I cannot accept this.”
“Please don’t say that. I must carry out my brother’s wishes.”
His brother’s wishes. She had seen them in his own hand. She gulped again. Whyever had Anthony done this? Was it out of love? Guilt? Or some combination of the two? Whatever the cause behind Anthony’s bequest, Benedict was right. This was something she should not refuse.
Benedict added, “I know Anthony wanted you to be looked after. Please, accept, Miss Rosso.”
Siena nodded. “I will, thank you.”
A brief wave of relief flashed across Benedict’s face before his serious, statue-like expression returned. “In that case, the estate can organise some financial advice for you. For how to invest it securely, if you would like.”
“Thank you.”
Benedict nodded. “I’ll have someone send through some details next week.”
Another brittle silence.
Siena almost started to get up to leave.
But something Benedict said stopped her. He ran an exasperated hand through his hair. “Would you stay? For a drink?”
Why not? It was this or going back to the house and ruminating alone on this otherworldly day. Better not to be left in the company of her own thoughts tonight.
She nodded. “Yes, yes, I will.”
And with that, Benedict flagged down a waiter. It was going to be a long night indeed.
There are no prompts today, so feel free to share whatever you want ❤️
If you want to participate, please tag #sienarossoweek26 or mention this blog, so I can reblog your posts! You can find more infos about the event here!
And don't forget to vote in the Costume Elimination Game! There’s only 2 hours left!
For the Siena Rosso Appreciation Week 2026, Day Six Prompt: "What if...?"
Modern AU. What if Siena Rosso and Anthony Bridgerton met in the 2010s rather than the 1810s.
****
"And that's a wrap on The Sounds of Autumn!" the producer Markus said.
"Congratulations, Siena!" Roberta, another member of the production team, exclaimed.
Behind the pair, a small crowd of onlookers whooped and applauded.
Siena removed the headphones and gave a smile and a wave of acknowledgement. After so many months of work in London followed by final recording sessions here in Berlin, her latest album was ready for release.
"Thank you, everyone," she said in her soft Glaswegian accent.
The studio door opened and in streamed her producers, collaborators and supporters.
Roberta carried two bottles of champagne, one in each hand. "Siena, darling, you were as fabulous as ever!"
The party got underway and Siena let herself get swept up in the revelry. Ever since she was a young girl, she had dreamed of being a celebrated opera singer and she had most certainly achieved that goal. This was her fifth studio album and she'd performed at almost every major opera house in Europe at one point or other. When she had moved down to London as a young woman after graduating from the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland, she had been filled with ambition and desire to succeed. In the almost twenty intervening years, her career had grown from strength to strength and she was one of the most respected classical music names of her generation.
After about half an hour, there was a rapping at the door.
Siena quirked an eyebrow. She had thought they had the place to themselves today.
But no one else seemed surprised.
One of the production staff went to the door and swung it open to reveal three of Siena’s favourite people in the whole world.
“Surprise!” Luca and Isabella yelled. They walked into the room, their father close behind them.
Siena took a few steps towards the trio. “I didn’t realise you were coming today. I thought your flight wasn’t until tomorrow?”
“I couldn’t wait to see you,” Anthony said. He closed the gap between himself and Siena and wrapped her in his arms.
She kissed him. Then, she whispered in his ear. “Well, I am very glad you’re here.”
The couple broke apart. There would be more time for their own reunion later. For now, it was a chance to celebrate with everyone.
Siena and Anthony stood and watched with pride as their children made their way around the room, talking with the production staff and asking intelligent questions.
Luca was ten and the heir to the Bridgerton viscountacy. He looked so like Siena’s father it was uncanny. He was going to be the first Bridgerton heir in two hundred and fifty years not to attend Eton. In six months, he’d be starting year seven at a co-ed day school near the family’s Kensington home. Siena wanted something different for her children, she hadn’t been born with the silver spoon in her mouth, and Anthony had agreed. Once he’d given the matter his characteristic careful consideration, of course.
Isabella, for her part, took after Anthony in almost every way. She was so like him physically and she had the same serious bent. She had just turned eight and Siena predicted she would one day go into business or the law.
The school half term had just begun and the family were going to have four days in Berlin together before heading back to London.
Siena liked to be in London most of the time, to be with her family and also to continue her career. But taking advantage of opportunities like recording and performing overseas was important in the opera world. Besides, a few trips a year overseas was good for the children. Back in October, they had visited her for part of her two week stint performing in Rome. And over the summer holidays, she had a short engagement in New York where they would all join her.
Anthony rubbed the small of her back and placed a kiss on her cheek.
I know there’s still 2 days left, but I hope everyone is having fun so far ❤️
It’s been a pretty stressful week for me – I’m honestly surprised how much stuff I managed to post nonetheless. However, I’m already behind with the gifsets, plus there’s tons of fanfics sitting in my drafts still. I probably won’t get to post everything, but I will definitely use Monday as a little catch-up day. Due to time zones, I won’t make a finishing post until Monday evening either way.
So this goes for everyone, of course: if there’s still something in your drafts you couldn’t finish in time or if there’s something you planned, but didn’t get around to yet, please feel free to see Monday as the final day. And you can obviously continue to share your works after the week is over too. I will keep checking the tag for about one week (plus I regularly check Siena’s character tag either way) and the AO3 collection will remain open until June 30th 😊
annaxmalina
blakekathryn
baratheonpilled
yousharknotpass
romaincrisis
2087
