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Chapter Text

He should have seen it coming.

Eloise had once told him that all artists chased heartbreak in a rather clichéd way and even though he had disagreed back then, he was beginning to see his sister’s point.

It felt physically impossible to drag his gaze away. The main object of his focus was oblivious to his glances, perhaps for the better and his attention remained safe in the chaos of the ballroom, hidden to anyone but himself.

Or at least that’s what he had thought.

“Don’t.”

Well, that was enough for him to snap out of his thoughts and turn his head to see his brother better. Anthony raised his brows, shooting him a nearly chiding look.

“What?”

“Don’t even think about it.”

Benedict scoffed and sipped his drink. “Aren’t you supposed to be dealing with Daphne’s suitors right now?”

“She’s with mother as we speak. And I meant it. Don’t.”

“I have no idea what you speak of.”

Anthony gave him a small smile. “That rose has too many thorns Benedict.”

“I believe some lords call her a Venus flytrap, not a rose.” Benedict pointed out before he could stop himself and Anthony nodded.

“More reason for you to stay away,” he said. “She glares at everyone when they’re not looking, and apparently refuses to hold back whenever someone contradicts her. Hardly a pleasant company, regardless of her beauty.”

Benedict took a deep breath.

“But she’s…” he paused for a moment. “She’s enchanting.”

“Enchanting in the way a poison is in a bottle or a sharp sword on a wall,” Anthony said. “Not in your hands.”

Benedict swallowed thickly, making himself busy with his drink, and Anthony looked over his shoulder.

“Oh great…” he murmured and walked away from him to make his way to Daphne, no doubt to protect her from yet another suitor. Benedict suppressed a smile and took a sip of his drink, then stole a look at the said enchantress who was in a deep conversation with a lord, but contrary to before, she seemed to have felt his gaze so she turned her head to meet his eyes.

There was no wonder why the rumors about her were swirling in the ton. Nothing about the look in her eyes suggested demure, instead it was almost daring, not a trace of gentleness in it. Contrary to what the ton expected from her and every debutante, as Benedict guessed, she didn’t avert her glances or smile at him. She merely held his gaze in hers, arching a brow in a defiant manner and eyed him up and down before turning her head again to resume her conversation with the man in front of her.

No.

Not in his hands indeed.

Benedict dragged his gaze away from her and downed his drink, then shook his head and made his way to the balcony, desperate for some fresh air.

Chapter Text

You had never been to a circus before, but as much as you’d heard, you were quite certain it was similar to being introduced to the high society of London.

Extravagant clothes, announcements and performing tricks with a dash of danger.

If endless chatter and gossip and constant criticism fell under the category of danger, at least.

“Oh how I’m glad it’s over,” you murmured as the carriage slowed down, then came to a stop in front of your house. “It’s almost a blessing one only debuts once if you ask me.”

“My dearest, come on now,” your aunt said with a small smile. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“Not for me, no,” you admitted. “If anything it was dull, but I saw multiple ladies with tears in their eyes.”

The door of the carriage opened and you stepped out of it, then looked behind you to see the coachman helping your aunt out of the carriage as well. She linked her arm with yours before you both started walking towards the house down the stone road.

“Tears in their eyes?” she repeated. “Surely not. Who?”

“One of the Featherington sisters.”

“The one who tripped and fell in front of the queen?” she asked. “You could hardly blame her.”

“And um…what’s the name of the girl with those huge earrings?”

“Miss Grant?”

You snapped your fingers.

“Yes, her,” you said as you slowly climbed up the stairs with her and entered the house. “You’d think being named the diamond is a matter of life or death, with the way people are acting.”

“I’m glad you brought it up actually,” she said as she gave her coat to the maid by the door. “Because I’ve heard—”

“Oh the glorious warriors are back from the battlefield it seems!” your uncle’s voice boomed through the hallway and you couldn’t help but smile slightly at his theatrics. Your aunt shook her head fondly, and looked up at the mezzanine where your uncle was leaning to the stair rails. He gave you a big smile and you and your aunt went up the marble stairs to reach him.

“Here's my lucky clover!” He hugged you. “Was it terrible?”

You heaved a dramatic sigh. “More than you could imagine, uncle.”

He hummed, that playful glimmer shining in his eyes. “Was there blood?”

Your aunt gasped. “Howard!”

“What? I know how vicious ladies can be when they want to have more suitors than others dear,” he kissed your aunt’s cheek and she patted his arm.

“There wasn’t any blood but some tears,” you pointed out. “Much to my disappointment. I’d love to see people claw each other’s eyes out.”

“Oh you two…” your aunt said and entered the drawing room with you two following her. You took out the multiple feathers from your hair and tossed them on the coffee table.

“Where’s Teddy?”

“With his tutor,” your uncle said. “So? Am I in the presence of the diamond of the season?”

You scoffed. “Thankfully no.”

“That’s what I was saying though!” your aunt said. “I’ve heard some ladies say they were convinced you would be the diamond when they saw you. And her majesty took her time inspecting you, did she not? My sweet, if only you smiled a little in the ballroom …”

You made a face and shook your head.

“No no,” you said. “It wouldn’t have changed anything, Daphne Bridgerton being the diamond makes sense. She’s more beautiful and talented and educated and all that, she was basically born and raised to be the diamond. I learned how to play the piano about two years ago, and the only time I would do it willingly is if I ever wanted to torment somebody. Besides, I’m not—” you paused for a moment, then cleared your throat.

“I’m really not interested in being the diamond,” you managed to say. “More trouble than it’s worth.”

They exchanged glances and your uncle nodded.

“We’re happy if you’re happy, Clover.”

You offered him a tiny smile and stood up.

“Well I’ll change and go to the garden,” you said. “Send for me if you need anything?”

“Will do!”

You made your way upstairs to quickly change your gown and went downstairs again. Grabbing your gardening apron and tools from the small closet by the door, you stepped out of the house and made your way to the flower gardens. You put on the apron and put down the basket, then got on your knees to inspect a rose, frowning slightly before grabbing the pruning shears and getting to work.

You had always loved tending to gardens. Ever since you were a child, it had given you more joy than anything else, planting flowers and watching them grow, it was in fact the only happy memory you had of your childhood. Perhaps it was because it gave you an excuse to stay out of the house, but whatever the reason was, you had always stayed outside, spending hours in the tiny garden you could call your own back home.

More often than not, your older sister would join you. It wasn’t as if she was interested in gardening, at least not like you were, but perhaps she too sought for some peace and quiet, and it was impossible to find it in the house where your parents were. Almost every moment consisted of a fight, things thrown around, and sooner or later either you or her would get involved in it, and be subjected to the fury of your mother or your father, whoever was the closest.

So, staying outside was safer.

In a way, you and your sister had both found a way to stay safe later on in life. She had eloped three years ago with your help, and only a couple of months later your aunt and uncle had visited your parents’ house and had a long talk with your father about letting you and your little brother Teddy stay with them. They had no kids, and since it would mean that your mother and father would have two less mouths to feed, they had agreed quite fast.

Especially when your uncle had mentioned money.

You were quite certain you would always be in your uncle and aunt’s debt. Even though both of them claimed otherwise, it would have made more sense for them to take Teddy, since he was a boy and could be their heir and easily leave you behind in that hell, but they had done no such a thing and made sure to treat you and Teddy like their own.

They were the only parents Teddy could remember.

And you?

As far as you were concerned, your birth parents were dead.

“You're back!” A gleeful scream made you turn your head and you dropped the shears before Teddy threw himself at you, wrapping his arms around your neck, and thankfully you’d had enough practice at catching him mid-air in the last couple of years so even though your whole body tilted back for a moment, you quickly regained your balance.

“Hello there!” you said, a big smile warming your face as you hugged him back. “What did we talk about sudden movements and sharp objects little man?”

He pulled back, giving you a huge grin.

“Did you trip in front of the Queen?”

You let out a small laugh. “Who told you that? Uncle?”

“He said someone always trips,” he said, excitement laced in his tone. “Did you?”

You shook your head and dropped your voice as if giving him a secret.

“Not me but someone tripped and fell down.”

He gasped. “Really?”

“Mm hm.”

“Then what happened?” he asked. “Is she in prison now?”

You bit back a smile. “No Teddy, no one goes to prison for that.”

“Even if it happened in front of the Queen?”

“Even then,” you said and wrapped your arms around him as he sat down to look at the flowers better.

“How was your day?”

“Boring,” he pouted. “Mr. Langdon says I must study harder.”

You hummed. “You know the rules,” you told him. “You want to be the smartest boy in Eton, do you not? When it’s time for you to go there—”

“I don’t want to go to Eton,” he cut you off and you pulled back to look at him better.

“Why not?”

“I’d miss you,” he mumbled, reaching you to touch the flowers and you felt your heart drop to your stomach at the idea of him going away all on his own. You heaved a sigh and opened your mouth to disagree, but then a tiny four leaf clover caught your sight, making you tilt your head.

This was also one of the reasons why your sister used to call you her lucky clover. Somehow, you managed to find those more than any other gardener.

You reached out to rip it, then held it up for Teddy to see, making him gasp.

“It has four leaves!”

“It does,” you said and put the tiny clover into the pocket on the lapel of his jacket. “See? It’ll bring you luck, in here or in Eton.”

He grinned at you and looked down at the clover.

“And,” you said, making him lift his head. “I’ll always be here for you, no matter where you are. Nothing could ever change that, alright?”

He paused for a moment and nodded fervently.

“Wonderful,” you said and reached inside the basket to pull out another pair of gloves. “Now, what do you say you help me with this?” 

  Of course everything that had happened in the Queen’s presence had also found its way to Whistledown’s gossip column, and the whole ton was buzzing with the expectation of the balls and social gatherings to come. You would be lying if you said you shared the sentiment, you’d much rather stay at home and deal with your garden, but this was the issue with having debuted, considering how your uncle and aunt were prominent members of the ton, you now had to join any and every social outing within the season, formal or not so formal.

Hence where you were now.

Lady Bridgerton had invited some of the new debutantes and their families for tea, probably to celebrate Daphne’s new status but to socialize as well.

In your opinion, this was nothing but an attempt to make horses become familiar with each other before putting them on the race tracks but your aunt was very excited about it, so of course you said you would go but now that you were here, you couldn’t wait to go back home. The Bridgerton house was beautiful, and Lady Bridgerton was quite nice but the rest of the guests?

Dear God, this was almost as much of a torment as listening to your own tune on the piano.

You made your way to the huge table to grab a glass of lemonade, ignoring the whispers coming from the circle of ladies on the other side of table but when one of them giggled, you turned your head to look at them. The girl stopped whispering with her friends and shot you a slight grin.

“So which one of them are you here for?”

You furrowed your brows and looked down at the lemonade in your hand.

“There are different types?”

“No, silly!” she said. “Which of the Bridgerton brothers are you here for?”

Your frown deepened. “What?”

“Oh none of them of course!” the other girl said. “Irene, stop getting her hopes up.”

You tilted your head. “I’m sorry?”

“I’m Kitty,” the girl introduced herself. “You’ve probably heard about me. Anyway, don’t get me wrong of course but I’ve heard some things about you, that you grew up quite poor until your uncle took you and your brother in so it’s better not to get your hopes up.”

You arched a brow, keeping your gaze on her.

“They say the Viscount won’t get married so if you’re hoping to get him, I’d forget about that plan right now.”

The Vis—

Ah.

Right, you had seen him talking to Daphne when you were leaving the court and quite frankly, you weren’t impressed.

Not that you thought you could be impressed by anyone’s looks.

“Not to worry, you can have him,” you said. “I’m not interested.”

Kitty and Irene exchanged glances and Kitty let out a scoff.

“Oh you’re after Benedict Bridgerton?” she asked. “The second son? That’s hopeless as well. Don’t even make any plans for it, the competition is too high and some say his attention has already been claimed.”

“Devastating,” you said with a completely straight face but it seemed to have gone over her head.

“And if you want to get Colin—”

“Are you planning on listing their whole family tree?” you cut her off. “Did you memorize it in your free time?”

Kitty's jaw dropped and you shrugged your shoulders.

“I’m not jesting by the way, everyone needs a past time activity, yours just happens to be a strange one.”

A small chuckle reached your ears and you turned your glances to the two other girls standing close to you, one with red hair and one brunette.

“Eloise,” Kitty said. “And Penelope. How are you on this fine day?”

The brunette grinned.

“I’ve been better,” she said. “So have you, I suppose.”

Kitty gritted her teeth and Irene turned to you.

“Is it true you’re unable to smile?” she asked and you frowned.

“What?”

“Everyone says so,” she said. “That you have an illness of the sort. You can’t smile even if you want to.”

You stared at her for a moment, then took a deep breath and nodded.

“Yes,” you said. “It’s true.”

She pulled back slightly. “Really?”

“I don’t like to talk about it,” you said. “It was so unexpected. The tragedy struck when I was six years old, the doctors haven’t been able to find a cure or a cause since then. I don’t even remember how it feels to be able to smile to be honest with you.”

Her mouth opened agape in shock.

“And the worst part is,” you said. “The doctors fear it might be contagious.”

Irene gasped and grabbed Kitty's arm, then pulled her to walk away from you to the other side of the room. You rolled your eyes and one of the girls let out a small chuckle.

“That was good,” she commented and the redhead repressed a laugh.

“She will tell everyone you were not nice to her though, just so you know.”

“I’m not interested in being nice,” you muttered and the brunette smiled.

“I respect that,” she said. “I’m Eloise Bridgerton and this is Penelope Featherington.”

“Lovely to meet you,” you said after introducing yourself and out of the corner of your eye you saw Daphne approaching the table.

“Hello,” she smiled at you brightly before turning to Eloise. “Eloise, where is Benedict?”

“With Lottie I’m guessing. They both disappeared.”

“How shocking,” Daphne said. “Mama wants to see you.”

Eloise heaved a sigh and nodded at you, then she and Penelope walked away. Daphne turned to you.

“Welcome to our home.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” you said. “And congratulations by the way, for being the diamond of the season.”

“Thank you!” she said, that bright smile lighting up her face again. “Some people say the Queen also considered you, I hope you do not resent me.”

You waved a hand in the air.

“Ah no I could never be the diamond, there’s nothing to resent,” you said. “Besides that’s just a rumor. The Queen was probably thinking about something else, I just happened to be there. You deserve that title much more than me.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Oh it is,” you said. “I assure you.”

She tilted her head.

“We’re all going to take turns to play tunes on the piano in a moment,” she said. “Would you like to play as well?”

“Depends,” you deadpanned. “Do you want to make sure everyone leaves in a hurry? Because that’s my musical talent.”

Daphne stared at you, then covered her mouth to hide her laugh.

“It is a talent nonetheless.”

“One that would prove to be useful against unwanted guests if you have any in here.”

“You have no idea,” she whispered but before she could say anything else, you both heard her name being called. She heaved a sigh.

“I must go,” she said. “But thank you for the conversation.”

“Anytime,” you said and watched her leave, then downed your lemonade. You had to leave before somehow your aunt came up with the bright idea of you sitting in front of that piano, and in your humble opinion this was enough socializing to last you for a day. You made your way to your aunt and touched her arm.

“I’m going back home auntie.”

“Oh?” she asked. “Already?”

“I drank too much lemonade I think, my stomach feels strange.”

“Oh I can—”

“You don’t have to come with me, Paula can chaperone me back home,” you cut her off. “She was with the other maids in the garden the last I saw her.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” you said, “I will see you home?”

“Yes my dear,” she said and you kissed her cheek, then thanked Lady Bridgerton on your way out of the drawing room and stepped out to the hallway. You let out a relieved breath and stretched out, all your muscles sore from you being so tense since the moment you had arrived. You rubbed at your eyes, wondering whether your maid was still in the garden but before you could lower your hands a door opened and you crashed into a hard body with a gasp and the person grabbed you by the arm, making your head snapped up.

The man in front of you was tall, much taller than you. His waistcoat fit him perfectly, and you had a chance to glimpse at his muscular arms as he pulled you upright to help you regain your balance allowing you to see his face better. He was very handsome, there was no denying that, with bright blue eyes and black hair, along with a faint smile adorning his lips—

Alright.

Perhaps you could be impressed by someone’s looks then.

You paused only for a moment before you snapped out of your haze and your anger at yourself burned through you for even letting such a nonsense thought catch you off guard. He stared at you, his mouth slightly agape as if he was in the same haze as you were but you narrowed your eyes, glaring at him.

“Watch your step,” you nearly growled and a look of confusion crossed his handsome face, making him blink in silence a couple of times.

“…It’s—it’s my house?” he said slowly as if trying to see whether you were jesting. “I live here.”

You shrugged your shoulders, still glaring at him and he took a deep breath as if deciding to clear out any misunderstanding.

“I’m Benedict Bridgerton.”

Ah.

Well, that made sense. No wonder the competition was high—

From an objective stance, that was.

“Congratulations,” you deadpanned and a small giggle reached your ears, making Benedict turn to glare at the closed door behind him.

And that was probably the girl who had ‘claimed his attention’ as they put it. Not that you would be troubling yourself with it.

“Um— what about you?” he asked as he turned to you again. “What’s your name?”

You raised your brows. “Why?”

“To repeat, because you are in my house.”

“So are a lot of other ladies,” you said and pointed back with your thumb. “They are waiting for you in the drawing room.”

He grimaced as if the mere thought caused him pain. “Are they really?”

“My heartfelt sorrows for the hardships waiting for you, may you find a solace of some sort.”

“You don’t sound to be in sorrow.”

“This is how I sound in sorrow,” you pointed out drily and he seemed almost amused as he tilted his head.

“Will you really refuse to tell me your name?”

“That’s not important information,” you said and walked past him, the faint scent of his cologne mixing into your breath and you bit down on your lip, then started making your way downstairs.

“Why not?” he called out and you scoffed.

“I doubt we will ever talk to each other again Mr. Bridgerton,” you called back, your heels echoing on the marble of the foyer before you walked out of the house, not even looking back.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t that you were someone who didn’t like to be out of their comfort zone.

Correction; you were definitely someone who didn’t like to be out of their comfort zone but that was hardly your fault, now that stepping out of your comfort zone meant being thrown into a battlefield with merely a knife in hand, or the social equivalent of it.

Also known as London’s marriage mart.

At least the weather seemed to share your feelings. It had been raining nonstop since the morning, so instead of being out in the park to –God forbid- socialize or receiving suitors, you were confined to your room with a book in your hands, enjoying the crackling wood in the fireplace. You were resting your back on the pillows, with soft and warm covers over your legs, the pitter-patter of raindrops against the window filling the room. You heard the door crack open and slipped a little into the covers.

“Paula please don’t tell me I—” you started but as soon as you turned your head, you gasped. Your little brother was standing by the doorstep with a happy grin on his face, as if he wasn’t covered in mud from head to toe.

“Teddy!” you exclaimed, covering your mouth before you got off the bed to rush to him. “What happened?”

“I made you something!”

You gawked at him. “What?”

“Look!” he held up what seemed to be a clump of mud with two sticks coming out of each side. “It’s a mud snowman!”

You blinked a couple of times and took a look at the clump again, a small smile warming your lips. It was obvious on the second glance that he had in fact put a lot of effort into it, because the snowman’s eyes and its smiling mouth consisted of tiny pebbles, along with what you assumed to be its coat buttons. A giggle escaped from your lips and you took a deep breath.

“Oh it’s lovely!” you said and took it from him carefully. “Come, let’s pick a place for him.”

Teddy bounced on his feet before looking around the room, and you approached the shelves above the fireplace.

“How about here?” you asked and he nodded.

“Yes!”

“What should we call him?” you asked. “He needs a name.”

He looked to be in a deep thought before he held his breath. “Howard!”

You grinned at him. “Like uncle?”

He nodded again and you placed the small mud statue on the shelf, then put your hands on your hips and turned to him.

“Now that Howard has found his place,” you said and walked to ring the bell to call your maid there. “You need a bath and change of clothes. Has Auntie seen you like this?”

“No,” he said as you crouched down to look him in the eye.

“Teddy, you shouldn’t be outside when it’s raining. We talked about this.”

“It wasn’t even cold!”

“Wet clothes make you cold,” you said and someone knocked on the door, then opened it.

“My lady- oh my goodness!” your maid Paula gasped upon seeing Teddy and you repressed a smile, then fixed Teddy’s wet hair before turning to Paula.

“Would you please make sure he’s cleaned up? My aunt will have a heart attack if she sees him like this.”

“Of course my lady—and your aunt has requested your presence.”

“Thank you,” you said and smiled at Teddy. “Go on then.”

Teddy followed her out of the room and you straightened your back, then left your room. You made your way down the hall and stepped into the drawing room to find your aunt there, reading Whistledown’s new issue with such attention that one would have thought it held the secrets of the universe.

Then again, it did hold the secrets of the ton, so you guessed that was still something.

“You asked for me, auntie?”

Her head snapped up and she gave you a warm smile.

“Hello dearest,” she said as you sat down on the sofa. “Tea?”

“Yes thank you,” you said and your aunt poured you a cup of tea before placing the porcelain teapot on the tray again.

“So I was thinking we could go to the modiste today,” she said and took a sip of her tea, “Most of your gowns are finished, but no harm in taking a look at some new designs in case anything catches your interest. You will be interacting with a lot of suitors after all, we cannot let anyone see you in the same gown twice.”  

You grimaced at the thought of it, then heaved a sigh.

“Must I interact with them?”

“Well, it is expected to actually talk to your suitor if you wish to be married to them.”

“I disagree,” you said. “I happen to think the minimum interaction the better.”

“Minimum interaction?” she repeated. “Clover, you do know that when you marry someone you spend a lot of time together, do you not?”

“Depends on the marriage,” you pointed out. “I intend mine to be a bit different.”

“And what happens if you do fall in love?”

You scoffed a laugh. “I would never, auntie.”

“You keep tempting fate, my dear,” she smiled. “Sooner or later it will answer.”

You hummed, taking a sip of the tea and nodded at Whistledown’s paper on the coffee table.

“Anything interesting?”  

“Just many expectations,” she said. “And some news about Bridgertons.”

Your eyes snapped up and you cleared your throat before throwing your shoulders back.

“What about them?”

“Everyone always watched them even before, and now with Daphne being the diamond, more eyes will be on them,” she said. “So now the whole ton knows Benedict Bridgerton was seen arriving home at dawn, looking quite…disheveled.”

Your heart skipping a beat was absolutely coincidental.

“Oh?” you asked after a beat. “Disheveled?”

“God knows what his actions were the night before,” your aunt said. “But I suppose it’s not so surprising.”

You didn’t even notice leaning in slightly. “Wh—why?”

“He’s the second son of a very wealthy and respectable family and an artist,” she said. “You know what they say about the second sons; all the fun and none of the responsibilities. That being added to him being an artist… I doubt he keeps very respectable company, if you catch my hint.”

Dear God, he was an artist?

Great. That would surely serve as the disincentive to make the smallest idea about him stop from getting to your head. Artists were annoyingly in touch with their emotions, not to mention pursued the stupid notion of love relentlessly, so regardless of your first impression about his looks—

Not that you were thinking about his looks. Your aunt had brought him up, that was all.

You would never even entertain such an idea, you had different plans for a husband.

“I’ve heard he’s quite…” you made yourself busy with your cup. “The competition was high for his attention.”

“Well, he’s a Bridgerton, and he’s quite easy on the eyes,” your aunt said. “Have you seen him before?”

You blinked a couple of times, then scoffed and shook your head fervently.

“No,” you managed to say, your voice slightly high-pitched before you cleared your throat and tried again. “No, not at all.”

“Well, I’ll show him to you at the next outing.”

“I’ve also heard he—” you waved a hand in the air. “His attention was claimed already?”

“A lot of people say that,” your aunt said. “About Charlotte Harlowe. That girl must have been waiting for a proposal from him for over two years now. She debuted two years ago and they had been friends even before, people say. Poor thing, she has no other suitors and if Benedict Bridgerton’s reluctance is anything to go by… Perhaps he will end up not proposing to her, who knows?”

“Huh,” you said. “Yeah, who knows?” 

“They both claim to be friends but you know how it is,” she said. “And to think he’s going off to these escapades while courting Charlotte…”

Well that was quite interesting.

Not that you cared.

“Right,” you said. “Sounds terrible.”

“Poor girl,” your aunt commented and shook her head, then took a deep breath. “Anyway, the modiste then?”                                            

When your aunt had said you would be paying a visit to the modiste, you had for some reason assumed it meant you would in fact be going to the modiste, but you should have known better. On your way to the modiste, you had stopped at the ribbon shop first, then the jeweler, then a shoe shop, and finally the carriage pulled over in front of the modiste’s shop, making you let out a breath.

“Before we walk in there, I need you to promise me something,” you told your aunt as you both stepped out of the carriage and she turned to you.

“Of course dear, what is it?”

“We will keep this visit short,” you said. “Under an hour.”

“Oh come on now—”

“Auntie you get out of control when it comes to buying me new things.”

“It’s your debut year!” she defended herself, making you repress a laugh.

“Is it mine or yours?” you asked. “You’re much more interested in this than me.”

“Fine, perhaps your debut brought back memories,” she said, waving a hand in the air and you tilted your head.

“Mm hm, I could tell.”

“But I met your uncle in my debut year!” she said. “I can still remember the first time I saw him. He was surrounded by these other lords in the ballroom, but as soon as I laid my eyes on him…”

You raised your brows.

“He was the first one to ask me for a dance that night,” she said. “And I could swear that dance was the shortest dance in the world, it felt like it lasted a mere second.”

You were quite certain it was the nostalgia speaking but you weren’t going to argue, so you smiled and heaved a dramatic sigh.

“Fine,” you said. “I suppose we can spend more than an hour.”

“And I’m buying you everything!”

“Auntie no—” you started but she had already walked into the shop. You shook your head fondly and got into the shop as well. Your aunt was already ahead of you, on the other side of the shop with the modiste and you took a deep breath, looking around.

Even you had to admit, this was quite fun. The gowns were very beautiful, and since your aunt was more than willing to buy you new ones, you figured you could just try to enjoy it rather than worrying about whether it was too much or not.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice the shuffling noise coming from behind the shelves, but as soon as the figure stepped out, you snapped out of your thoughts, your heart skipping a beat for some reason before you gritted your teeth, already annoyed at yourself.

Benedict Bridgerton seemed as surprised as you were and he froze in his tracks, blinking a couple of times. His momentary distraction gave you the opportunity to actually notice why he looked to be in such a hurry to leave, after all it was a shop so of course he could be there, but—

But judging by the disheveled state he was in, it was obvious a different type of action was taking place, before you had walked in at least. There was no other lady in your sight, and you and your aunt seemed to be the only customers so it meant…

Ah. The modiste.

Well that made sense, she was very beautiful after all.

“Hello,” Benedict said after a beat. “We meet again.”

You bit inside your cheek, trying to make sense of why a small surge of excitement had shoot through your system upon his voice.

“I um…” he stammered. “My sister placed some orders earlier and she—she asked me to ask about them.”

An amused smile curled your lips, your eyes drifting down to his undone cravat around his neck and he followed your gaze to look down, then his hands shot up to fix it.

“I know how it looks but contrary to what you might think—”

“Do you always assume people think about you?” you cut him off and he tilted his head like a confused puppy.

“No?” he said like a question. “No but—if you told anyone, people would misunderstand the uh…situation.”

You raised your brows and shrugged your shoulders.

“I don’t talk about you,” you stated. “And I can assure you, you overestimate my interest in your life, Mr. Bridgerton. Good day.”

With that, you walked away from him to the other side of the shop where your aunt and modiste were.

“There you are my dearest!” your aunt said. “Where were you?”

You stole a glance at the modiste and willed a smile on your face.

“Nowhere,” you said. “I got distracted for a moment, that’s all. What did I miss?”

 In all honesty, you attending a museum exhibition whose team was ‘love’ was the same as expecting a person who hated singing to attend the opera.

It was bound to be torture for you and you were going to enjoy approximately zero seconds of it.

Yet, your aunt had insisted so here you were. So far, you had managed to avoid a couple of suitors but if they were like this during a simple exhibition, you did not want to think about how you would be spending the balls.

Dear God, even the thought of it was enough to make you grimace.

Your aunt had started a conversation with Lady Danbury by the corner with a couple of other ladies, and you grabbed a glass of lemonade from the tray, then started walking to the other side of the room but you were distracted when you heard your name.

“I’d love to hear more about it Lord Berbrooke but I’ve just seen my friend—here you are!” Daphne rushed to you, clasping your arm. “We have so much to chat about!”

“What—” you started but she quickly dragged you out of the painting room to what seemed to be the statue room.

“My apologies,” Daphne said in a hurry. “I just could not bear that, not even a minute longer.”

You shrugged your shoulders.

“I mean I can’t blame you,” you said. “He looks like a rather unpleasant company.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” she whispered. “I have no idea what Anthony is thinking—never mind me, how are you? Are you enjoying the exhibition?”

“I would be enjoying it much more if it weren’t for the threat of having conversations with possible suitors hanging over my head like the sword of Damocles,” you grumbled, sipping your drink and Daphne tilted her head.

“I’ve heard people say you have quite a lot already,” she said. “Some ladies swear it’s because you barely talk or smile at the suitors, they say it’s the mysterious air you have.”

“Or my uncle’s money,” you pointed out. “Either or.”

Daphne grinned and her eyes stopped on someone in the room.

“Alright, a possible suitor is coming and I doubt he’s one of mine.”

You looked over your shoulder at the man approaching you, and narrowed your eyes to glare at him. He stopped dead in his tracks, then looked elsewhere and changed his direction as if he had intended to go somewhere else all along. Daphne’s jaw dropped and you suppressed a smug smile.

“How did you do that?” she whispered and you sipped your drink.

“It’s not that difficult to intimidate them,” you pointed out and Daphne let out an impressed breath.

“You must teach me that sometime.”

“You’re too nice for it,” you said and she smiled.

“So are you.”

“That was the worst thing you’ve ever said to me so far,” you deadpanned and she opened her mouth to argue, then rolled her eyes.

“If you’ll excuse me,” she said and walked away from you to her oldest brother. You took another sip of your drink and stepped closer to another statue, then took a look at the tiny golden plate and scoffed.

Cupid.

Of course it was expected to find his statue in an exhibition that revolved around love, and you had to admit it was a very impressive statue. You threw your shoulders back, still holding your glass in your hand, your eyes focused on the face of the statue almost in a daze, but you quickly snapped out of it when someone said your name.

“Miss Y/N.”

You looked over your shoulder as Benedict gave you a proud grin and stepped to stand beside you.

“I’ve learned your name,” he said and you tried to ignore the excited flip your stomach did, then scowled.

“Good for you,” you said. “From Madame Delacroix or someone else?”

A guilty look crossed his face and he cleared his throat.

“My mother actually,” he said. “I asked her what the name of the lady who kept looking at people as if she was planning their death was, and funnily enough she knew exactly who I was talking about.”

You raised your brows.

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” you stated. “Not that people don’t already know about your escapades, thanks to what Lady Whistledown wrote about you. But as I said, I’m not interested in your life, so you can just go away now.”

“You read Whistledown?”

“My aunt does,” you said and he nodded slowly.

“I see,” he said. “But actually, I’m not here to ask you not to tell anyone.”

You tried not to roll your eyes. “Then pray tell, why are you here?”

“To talk to you.”

You frowned. “About what?”

“Anything,” he said, hope shining in his blue eyes and your heart beat sped up before you pursed your lips, your frown deepening.

Contrary to other people, he didn’t seem discouraged by that at all.

“How do you find the exhibition?”

“It’s alright,” you said drily. “For the theme of delusion.”

“The theme is love.”

“Yeah it’s the same thing,” you said and he pulled back slightly.

“You don’t believe in love?” he asked and you took a deep breath, but then a small crowd caught your attention by the corner of the room, making you turn your gaze there. To your absolute horror, your eyes fell on your aunt, Lady Bridgerton and Lady Danbury all watching you and Benedict. Your aunt looked quite surprised just like Lady Bridgerton, Lady Danbury on the other hand had a small smile on her lips and you swallowed thickly.

“Oh God no,” you muttered and walked past Benedict without so much as an explanation to get away from him, leaving him there quite confused. Your heart was still beating in your ears but you managed to walk pass the hall to get to another room and downed your drink.

No.

No way.

Even though you didn’t really know Lady Danbury and Lady Bridgerton, you knew your aunt and you knew exactly what she would think, or hope for.

A love match for you.

Absolutely out of question.

You took a deep breath and walked to put your glass on the tray a maid was carrying before grabbing another glass, and cleared your throat.

It was fine. You were just going to stay away from Benedict Bridgerton and his stupid grin and his bright blue eyes. The man was nothing if not annoying, and considering his nightly –and as you had witnessed the aftermath today, afternoon— activities, there was no need for you to even talk to him.

It wasn’t going to be difficult at all.

You sipped your lemonade and decided to pass the hallway that led to another room of sculptures, but as soon as you entered, so did Benedict from the other side of the room.

Jesus Christ—

This was a damn nightmare.

At least no one you happened to know was in the room, and it was surely away from your aunt’s line of sight. You stopped in front of another statue you didn’t even bother to read about and glared at Benedict who took a step towards you.

“Hello again.”

“Are you following for me in the shadows or something?” you growled and he shrugged his shoulders.

“It’s a public space,” he said and you clenched your jaw, turning to look at the statue before your eyes fell on the small information plate.

Aphrodite.

Of course you were standing in front of Aphrodite’s statue, because much like the man next to you, this silly idea of love also seemed to be everywhere you looked nowadays.

“Why did you walk away?”

“We had an audience with a very creative imagination,” you stated. “In case it has escaped your notice.”

“It hasn’t.”

You hummed. “But let me guess, you do not care.”

“Do you?” he asked back. “ I didn’t think you were the type of person who cared about what other people thought.”

“I’m not,” you said almost too fast. “It tends to be a bit different when I live with one of the said people though. One of the many entertaining things about being a debutante.”

He nodded slowly, then turned his head to look around.

“Well we don’t have the same audience now,” he said. “Thanks to you I suppose.”

“My pleasure, don’t feel obliged to stay,” you mumbled but that seemed to make him smile slightly.

“Do you really not believe in love?”

“Is that why you followed me here?” you asked back, glaring at him. “To bother me with your questions?”

He had the audacity to feign innocence. “It was purely coincidental. There are many artworks to see here, how was I to know we’d pick the same room to admire them?”

“Right,” you murmured. “Purely coincidental, of course.”

“So?” he asked. “Do you really not believe in love?”

You paused for a moment, then swirled the drink in your glass before taking a sip.

“I couldn’t believe in it if I tried, it’s not real,” you said. “It’s made up.”

“…Love is made up?” he repeated and you nodded.

“Yeah. Artists made it up.”

He stared at you. “Surely you’re not serious?”

You shook your head. “Do I look to be jesting?” you asked. “Artists made it up, and then other people started using it as a trap. I tend not to fall for lies or traps, so I simply don’t believe it.”

He looked almost at a loss for words for a moment before he spoke again;

“What else do you think artists made up then?”

You suppressed a mocking smirk. “Love is not enough for you, Mr. Bridgerton?”

“Oh love is more than enough for me,” he answered, that playful light glimmering in his eyes and you heaved a deep sigh.

“Well, everyone says you’re an artist,” you pointed out. “It’s no surprise that you believe in it, or that you chase it. How sad.”

“Sad?” he asked with an amused chuckle. “Oh I see. And let me guess, you would never fall in love?”

“I’m just too smart,” you stated. “Anyone who falls in love is a fool, nothing more.”

A mischievous smile curled the corners of his mouth and he stole a look at the sculpture in front of you.

“You know,” he said. “People in earlier times would tell you it’s not wise to provoke the goddess of love right in front of her statue like this.”

You raised your brows and scoffed before taking a look at the statue in front of you.

“I defy her then,” you said. “Love has no hold over me, nor will it ever.”

Even if you weren’t looking at him, you were painfully aware of his gaze on you and you felt your whole face grow hotter before you frowned at yourself, and downed your drink while Benedict took a deep breath.

“Would you perhaps—”

“No.”

He blinked a couple of times, “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”

“It doesn’t matter, I doubt it’s something I’d say yes to,” you pointed out. “I should take my leave, I have more lords whose delusions I should break and I’m sure you have some plans for looking for uh…” you trailed off and eyed him up and down. “Love tonight.”

He looked quite surprised and he tilted his head, his mouth slightly agape.

“Make it a bit entertaining for Whistledown, will you?” you asked in a nonchalant manner. “I’m sure the ton would appreciate it. Have a good evening, Mr. Bridgerton.”

He let out a breath, that smile playing on his lips again before he bowed his head and you turned around, then walked out of the room, your heart still beating in your ears.

Chapter Text

In your defense, from a completely objective point, nothing had really happened that night. It was merely a chat between two people who happened to be within each other’s vicinity in a rather crowded room. Just because you were expected to get married sometime soon did not mean a single conversation with Mr. Bridgerton would lead to anything, let alone anything romantic.

Yet apparently, you were the only person who knew that.

“Uncle,” you said as you walked into your uncle’s study, making him look up from his papers. “I will pay you money if you let me hide here.”

He let out a chuckle and pulled his round glasses off of his face to put them down on the desk.

“It depends,” he said. “How much money?”

“Uh….Some part of my dowry.”

“Do you mean the dowry that I’m in charge of as we speak?”

“But it’ll be mine when I get married,” you pointed out and he heaved a sigh.

“As much as I love your generosity my dear,” he said. “I’ve told you yesterday as well, you cannot hide in here whenever you have suitors in the drawing room.”

“Oh no I’m not trying to hide because of them,” you said. “They’ve left, finally. At least for today.”

“How many of them were here?”

“Around ten,” you said, making a face. “Two more than the day before.”

“Is that not a good sign?”

“It’s a terrible sign,” you said. “None of them fit what I have in mind, and they seem to get more interested the more uninterested I look.”

“Maybe you will like one of them.”

“Impossible.”

He smiled softly as if he knew something you didn’t.

“And who exactly are you hiding from, if not your suitors?”

You opened your mouth to answer but before you could say anything, someone knocked on the door and opened it.

“Y/N,” your aunt put her hand on her hip. “Come on.”

You let out a small whine and slipped a little on the sofa.

“Auntie, I’m helping uncle.”

“With what?”

You shot your uncle a pleading look and he held up his hands.

“What is this about?”

“We’re going to pick a gown for tonight’s dinner party,” your aunt said and you heaved a sigh.

“Must I attend that dinner party?”

“Must you attend the dinner party Lady Danbury personally sent you an invitation to?” she repeated and you pressed your hands on your eyes, then took a deep breath.

“Very well,” you muttered and pushed yourself off of the sofa, then pointed at your uncle.

“I will not forget this.”

“You’ll thank me if you do end up meeting your future husband on that dinner party Clover.”

“I highly doubt that,” you said as you followed your aunt upstairs to your room and as soon as you both entered the room, you flung yourself on the bed.

“That one looks alright,” you pointed at a random gown and she raised her brows.

“We should go with a more striking one if you ask me,” she said, repressing a grin. “Now that you have a very specific suitor—”

“Auntie, no,” you cut her off and sat up in bed, frowning. “I’ve been trying to tell you the same thing for three days now, Benedict Bridgerton is not my suitor, nor do I want him to be.”

She tilted her head.

“See, you keep saying that but I saw you two near each other that evening in the museum.”

“It was a room with artwork in it, we happened to be interested in the same one.”

“And you were talking.”

“About the exhibition!” you stated. “And he started it.”

“Exactly.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I thought you did not approve of him,” you reminded her. “Did you not tell me all those things about him not keeping respectable company, stringing that lady along, having too much fun?”

“That was before I saw how he looked at you and considering his family and name, I approve him.”

“Good for you, I don’t approve him,” you deadpanned. “Besides, do you really want me to get between a courtship of years?”

“Him and Charlotte Harlowe?” she asked and waved a hand in the air. “Who knows? Perhaps they are indeed friends.”

“That’s the exact opposite of what you implied before.”

“Well I’m implying something different now,” she said. “If that’s the only reason why you don’t want him as a suitor…”

“That’s not the only reason, I have many reasons.”

“Such as?”

You flailed your arms before letting them drop to your sides.

“Where should I start?” you asked. “First of all, he’s an artist.”

“So?”

“Artists are all about feelings and feelings vex me,” you said. “Not to mention I want a husband whom I won’t have to see all the time or for a long time for that matter, and an artist is the complete opposite of that.”

“Clover…”

“And not only that, he—” you stopped yourself before any word about how you had seen him leaving the modiste’s shop quite disheveled could leave your lips. It was quite obvious what he had been doing there with her, and to make things worse, he was doing it right in the middle of a courtship with that Harlowe girl.

After stringing her along for years now.

“He is already courting that girl.”

“Allegedly.”

“I’ve been told the competition is quite high even if there’s nothing between them. I can’t cut the queue, one of those ladies would scratch my eyes out.”

“Don’t pretend like you have ever been intimidated by anyone in the ton, let alone some competition.”

“I find it annoying, not intimidating,” you pointed out. “The idea of competing for a man’s affections is not only pathetic but also irritating—perhaps even more irritating than the man in question.”

“Oh so he irritated you?”

“Very much so.”

“How?”

You opened your mouth and closed it again, desperately searching for words before you waved a hand in the air.

“He—he followed me around like a puppy,” you said, ignoring the way your face was burning. “That evening. And he apparently believes in love much like every other artist does, that’s yet another thing I find annoying about him. An endless list if I may.”

“Oh a list?” she asked, smiling slightly. “What else is on that list of reasons why Benedict Bridgerton is annoying?”

“His…there’s his smile,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. “When he smiles, it’s as if he’s up to something, that’s annoying.”

“I see.”

“Not to mention his eyes.”

“What’s annoying about his eyes?”

“They’re all…gleaming and full of hope,” you said, scrunching up your nose. “Unacceptable.”

“Right. Of course.”

“Besides, he’s very tall,” you added in a haste. “I had to look up at him whenever he was talking to me, it was starting to hurt my neck. Incredibly irritating, I tell you.”

Your aunt merely raised her brows and you cleared your throat, trying to appear nonchalant.

“I can assure you auntie,” you said. “I have already made up my mind on what my husband will be like, and Benedict Bridgerton does not fit any of those criteria. He will not be my husband. I would never even entertain that idea, not even if the world was ending.”

Your aunt watched you in silence with a smile on her lips, and pulled a dress from your wardrobe to toss it at you.

“There,” she said. “That seems striking enough. Try it on for me, will you?”

When the evening fell, both you and your aunt got on the carriage to go to Lady Danbury’s house. Your aunt was very excited for some reason but you couldn’t wait to go back home. You hadn’t had the chance to tend to your garden as much as you wanted to today, with talking to your suitors, choosing your outfit and jewelry and spending time with Teddy, so even if it would be the middle of the night when you got back, you still wanted to check on your flowers.

It was only when the carriage came to a stop and you stepped outside that all thoughts about your own garden left your mind. Lady Danbury’s estate was absolutely gorgeous and just one look at her yard was enough to make you gasp.

So many different flowers.

“Auntie—” you started but she already knew what you were going to say.

“You can visit some other time in daylight after asking Lady Danbury.”

“But the garden—”

“I know, but we have a dinner party to catch my dear.”

You let out a breath, still looking around as she tugged you towards the house.

“It’s all hers then?” you asked. “The whole estate?”

“Well, it used to belong to her husband before he passed away.”

You shook your head slightly. “The ultimate goal.”

“What?”

“To be a widow.” you said as you walked into the house after her, with the butler announcing you two. You both made your way upstairs to the drawing room and your aunt squeezed at your hand as if she wanted to assure you before you both walked into the room.

“Oh welcome!” Lady Danbury approached you and you dropped a curtsy.

“Lady Danbury,” you said. “Thank you so much for your invitation, I’m honored.”

She waved a hand in the air. “Of course, I’m glad you came.”

“I have a question if you don’t mind,” you said in a haste. “Are those Boursault roses in your garden?”

She tilted her head. “I believe they are. Interested in flowers, are we?”

“Very much so,” you said. “I was wondering if I could—”

“Lady Danbury, do you have a moment?” One of the ladies came closer and Lady Danbury turned to her.

“Of course,” she said. “Y/N you can visit at any time to see more of the roses, my gardener is quite proud of them.”

You really didn’t want to wait until later on and you were going to ask if you could just take a closer look at them tonight but you didn’t get the chance to when you heard her next sentence;

“Your dinner partners are Benedict and Colin Bridgerton, you’re sitting in the middle of them.”

Your eyes widened. “…What?”

“Yes, I figured perhaps you’d like to continue your conversation with him from the museum,” she said, giving you an almost playful grin. “And Colin is such a fun gentleman, you’ll like him. Excuse me ladies.”

She walked away from you and you blinked a couple of times, your jaw hanging open.

“She is jesting,” you managed to say. “Auntie, please tell me she was jesting.”

“That’s wonderful, is it not?” she asked you. “Oh I see Lady Bridgerton, let me go and say hello.“

"No I’m sure there’s no need for that!” you hissed but she had already walked away from you. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Daphne having a deep conversation with yet another suitor of hers, with her older brother keeping an eye on her and when your gaze drifted to the corner of the room—

God no.

Very well then, you were going to stay away from the corner of the room where Benedict Bridgerton was talking to a gentleman, or at least he had been before his eyes met yours. The gentleman next to him stole a look at you and grinned, muttering something to him before Benedict glared at him.

Ah.

That had to be the third brother Colin.

You could recognize that look of exasperation towards a younger brother anywhere.

You instantly looked away from them and grabbed a glass of lemonade from the tray, desperate to at least do something with your hands and holding a glass seemed like the safe option. You nodded at Penelope who greeted you back with a smile and when Duke Hastings -yet another eligible bachelor of the season according to other ladies- entered the room, a lot of the attention shifted to him so you used it to your advantage to approach the window to take a look at the garden.

You really needed to see those Boursault roses closer.

For a moment you wondered whether your absence would be noticed if you quietly slipped away from the drawing room to go to the garden, but considering the dinner was about the start, it was highly likely that people would notice. You bit inside your cheek, drumming your fingernails on the thin glass before you snapped out of your thoughts upon someone clearing their throat and you turned your head.

The lady next to you had to be around your age but you hadn’t seen her during the debut at the court so she probably had debuted a season or two before. She had a huge smile on her face and she rocked on the ball of her feet as if she was too excited to stay still.

“Hello!”

Her voice was familiar though, even if her face was not. You couldn’t put your finger on it yet, but you could swear—

Oh.

Oh God damn it.

Of course you recognized the voice, you had heard it as a giggle back in the Bridgerton house, which could only mean…

“I’m Charlotte Harlowe.”

Right. It was indeed Charlotte Harlowe because the universe hated you with a burning passion. The very same lady who was in a courtship with Benedict Bridgerton if the rumors were anything to go by, and this was about to be the most uncomfortable conversation in the entire world.

Not only you had seen the man she was in a courtship with leaving the modiste’s shop after clearly inappropriate actions, the said man had also been relentless to talk to you the other evening at the museum. Yet, nothing in her gaze seemed hostile, on the contrary she looked genuinely happy to be there.

“Y/N,” you introduced yourself and she nodded.

“Oh I know,” she said. “The lady with the death glare, everyone knows.”

“I’ve been called worse,” you muttered and she tilted her head.

“Do you always look this tortured?”

“Most of the time,” you deadpanned. “I didn’t listen to my mother and now my face is stuck like this.”

She giggled. “Oh you’re as funny as Daph says,” she said. “We’re going to be such good friends, I can already tell!”

You blinked a couple of times. “You can?”

“Absolutely! I have a gift in these things, I can tell whether I’m going to be good friends with someone. It has never failed so far.”

It was no wonder that she was in a courtship with Benedict, they both had the optimism and excitement of a puppy in an open field.

“Besides, Benedict is completely besotted with you already, so it only makes sense that we become friends!”

You almost dropped your glass from your hand and raised your brows. It seemed like they had an arrangement of the sorts where he could take mistresses while courting her, which was quite strange in your opinion, but you weren’t going to say it to her face so you took a deep breath.

“Whatever uh—arrangement you two have,” you said. “I believe it’s better if I’m not a part of it.”

“You mean our friendship?”

“Whatever it is you call it.”

“Oh that’s alright, you can just be my friend then,” she waved a hand in the air and shot you a bright smile. “You can ignore him as you’ve been doing.”

“…Right,” you said after a beat. “Miss Harlowe—”

“You can call me Lottie, everyone else does.”

“Are you always this friendly with everyone?”

She nodded fervently. “Yes, I love making new friends.”

You opened your mouth but before you could say anything, you heard Lady Danbury’s voice saying it was time for you to go into the dining room so you turned to Lottie to excuse yourself but she was faster than you.

“Let’s have dinner and we can talk more afterwards!” she said and walked away from you, leaving you there quite baffled. You shook your head slightly and offered a small smile to your aunt before walking into the dining room with the rest of the guests.

You ignored your heart skipping a beat as you approached the table and took your seat, and Benedict Bridgerton seemed to materialize out of thin air two seconds after.

“Miss Y/N, hello,” he said, taking his seat next to yours and to your absolute horror, Charlotte sat right next to him. Colin Bridgerton took the seat to your right, and you closed your eyes for a moment.

This had to be how cities under siege felt, and at last you had something in common with the ancient city of Tyre in 332 B.C.

How lovely.

“Hello,” you said curtly and the soup started being served, giving you at least an excuse to pretend to focus on something else.

“How nice to see you again,” Benedict said and you raised your brows and nodded.

“Likewise,” you said and turned your head to look at Colin who smiled at you.

“Colin Bridgerton,” he said and you introduced yourself as well before stealing a look at Daphne who was sitting across from you; her older brother seated between her and Penelope.

You could swear Benedict was almost buzzing in his seat while you tried your hardest to keep yourself busy with the spoon you were trailing in your soup.

It was going to be fine. You were just going to keep your interaction with him to a minimum, especially when the very nice lady whom he was in a courtship with was sitting right next to him, chatting with another lady across from her.

“And how are you this evening?” Benedict asked you after a beat and Colin frowned before leaning slightly forward to shoot him a look around your arm.

“Fine, thank you,” you said and their older brother – Anthony, if you weren’t mistaken— cleared his throat as if warning him but Benedict paid no mind. Daphne looked between them and took a deep breath.

“Y/N, you didn’t tell me you had a brother!” she said. “And he’s around my youngest brother’s age, my mother says. We must introduce them sometime!”

“He’d love that, he’s more social than me,” you answered Daphne and she offered you a small smile.

“You have a brother?” Benedict asked and you nodded.

“Mm hm.”

“How old is he?”

“Six.”

Daphne stole a glance at Benedict before turning to you. “And do you have any other siblings?”

You nibbled on your lip, suddenly uncomfortable. “I have an older sister.”

“And where is she now?” Benedict asked and Anthony closed his eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose while Penelope exchanged glances with Colin and then suppressed a grin.

Minimum interaction.

“…Away,” you said curtly and he opened his mouth but when Lady Danbury stood up to give a toast, the whole table fell into silence. It was a short and sincere toast and when it was finished, Benedict was instantly pulled into a conversation by the lady across from him. Colin grinned at you.

“So,” he said. “Other lords were right about that mystery thing I suppose?”

“Mystery?”

“Yeah. Barely anyone knows anything about you, and in case it has escaped your notice the ton likes knowing things about people.”

“Exactly the reason why I withhold it from them.”

He nodded slowly. “Is it working?”

“It has been so far. Just one question though, is your brother always so…”

“Persistent?” he asked. “Yeah. Mother dropped him on his head when he was a baby.”

You scoffed and suppressed a smile. “Figures.”

“But hey, I can assure you that he’s as stubborn as you,” he said. “You two make the classical spear-shield.”

You pulled your brows together in confusion. “Spear-shield?”

“There’s this old story,” he said.  “A man tries to sell a spear and a shield, saying his spear could pierce any shield and that his shield could defend from all spear attacks. Then one person asks him what would happen if he were to take his spear to strike his shield and the seller has no answer to it.”

You tilted your head and his grin widened before he shrugged his shoulders.

“You’re the shield and he’s the spear as it seems,” he said and you clicked your tongue.

“I’d bet on the shield.”

Colin hummed and heaved a sigh.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Knowing the spear so well, I think I’ll bet on the spear.”

You bit back a smile and raised your glass at him, then took a sip.

“You’ll see I guess.”

“Yeah,” he said after a beat. “Yeah, I’m sure I will.”

Once the dinner was finished and all the guests were back in the drawing room with the men joining the ladies after a while, the whole room was buzzing. Thankfully no one was paying any attention to you so you quietly slipped out of the drawing room without anyone noticing. You made your way downstairs, then stepped out of the house to finally get a closer look to the Boursault roses.

In your opinion, they were the best type of roses and you just had to see them without waiting for another day.

You checked your surroundings as soon as you descended the stairs and got to the garden, but no one was around so you lifted your skirts a little to rush to the flower bed full of roses, an exhale leaving your lips when you finally reached them.

They were in fact gorgeous.

You had a specific plan for your own garden once you would actually have it. You were going to have a greenhouse made, and outside the greenhouse, in your garden there were going to be so many different types of flowers, Boursault roses included.

But of course it had to wait until you would become a widow. Back when you were younger, after one of many, many fights between your mother and your father, your father had been so furious at your mother -and by extension, you- that after throwing a vase at you, he had also stormed to the small garden you had spent your whole summer growing your roses in and ripped out every single one of them.

You didn’t want to give another man yet another target to take his anger out on, especially something you would love and work so hard on, so you were going to keep your interest for your garden a secret from your husband whenever you would get married.

And once you were a widow, you could grow as many flowers as you wanted.

You were so lost in the beauty of the roses that you hadn’t even realized you were no longer alone, so you flinched as soon as someone cleared their throat and jumped on your feet, then pressed a hand on your chest when you saw Benedict.

“Jesus Christ,” you said. “What are you doing here?”

“Felt like getting some fresh air, it’s awfully crowded there,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

You motioned at the garden. “I wanted to see it closer.”

“In the dark?”

“Yeah, it doesn’t matter to me.”

He tilted his head. “Alone?” he asked and you shrugged your shoulders.

“I’m not worried, I have a knife.”

Benedict scoffed a laugh. “Sure you do.”

You frowned and pulled out the tiny pocket knife tucked in your cleavage before opening it to show him the knife.

“…I stand corrected,” Benedict said after a beat and cleared his throat. “Of course you have a knife.”

“Your sister walks around without a knife?” you asked him as you closed the knife again to put it back in your cleavage and he looked like he was too distracted to hear anything you said before he averted his gaze, clearing his throat.

“Huh?”

“Daphne walks around without a knife?”

“Uh—yeah.”

“Not very safe.”

“I’ll let her know,” he said and motioned at the garden in front of you. “So you like flowers then?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason?” he said like a question, “Must there be one?”

You kept frowning at him for a couple of seconds in complete silence before shrugging your shoulders.

“I just think they’re interesting.”

He took a look at the garden and his head whipped around as if a sudden thought had just struck him.

“If you like flowers, there’s a flower exhibition in two days,” he said, making your gaze shoot up to him. “In Speedwell Street. They say there will be many different types there.”

You held your breath and swallowed thickly, your eyes darting between his, excitement already filling you as your heart started pacing in your chest.

There was an exhibition. A flower exhibition where you would get to see different flowers, and maybe if you were lucky, you could even see those ones you had only read about in your books so far.

You could feel the smile threatening to pull at your lips, so you bit inside your cheek, reminding yourself to appear nonchalant.

“Oh?” you said as if your heart wasn’t racing in your chest at the thought of it, then stuck your nose in the air. “Well I—I don’t know why you’re telling me, I will not go there with you.”

“Didn’t think you would,” he said with a small smile as if he could see right through you. “I just thought perhaps you’d be interested.”

You nibbled on your lip and gave him a short nod, then walked past him but before you reached the stone stairs, you turned around.

“…Thank you I guess,” you managed to say and his smile widened, that playful glimmer apparent in his eyes even under the moonlight.

“You’re welcome I guess,” he replied and you forced yourself to scowl, then turned around and went back to the house, desperately trying to stop the smile warming your face.

Chapter Text

You didn’t have a lot of things that you could call your own while growing up. Almost everything you wore had passed down to you from your sister whom you also shared a room with, so anything that only belonged to you was very precious to you.

So you had made yourself a flower garden.

It hadn’t been easy. In fact at first, you had worked in that small corner of the garden -as far away from your house as possible- from morning until the night fell, until your sister would call you back home for dinner. Eventually, you had managed to save up a little to buy a book on different types of flowers, and in the following days you hadn’t stopped reading it until you memorized it line by line, the various drawings of flowers on yellow pages embedded into your mind.

So needless to say, you couldn’t wait until you would see this flower exhibition.

“Can we leave now?”

“My dearest, the exhibition will open at 1 o’clock,” your aunt said with a laugh. “It’s not even the time yet, I assure you we won’t be late.”

“Maybe they’ll open it earlier?” you asked and she tilted her head.

“We will leave soon, I promise,” she said, her focus still on the paper she was writing on. “Just wait until I finish this letter.”

You slumped back down on the armchair and drummed your fingertips on the cushion.

“Are you sure you don’t want to see the exhibition with me?”

“No thank you dear,” she said. “Me and Teddy will sit by the pastry shop while waiting for you, you know how much he likes those chocolate cakes there.”

You suppressed a smile and as if on cue, Teddy ran into the room in full speed to fling himself at you.

“Whoa, hello there!” you said as you wrapped your arms around him to give him a hug. “We were just talking about you, are you ready?”

He nodded fervently and turned around in your arms to look at your aunt.

“Hello auntie! I finished all the work Mr. Langdon gave me!”

“Good job Teddy!” your aunt said, making you smile wide as you looked down at Teddy.

“Even French?”

“Even French!”

You gasped. “That’s wonderful Teddy!” you said. “Do you want to come see the flowers with me?”

He thought for a moment, an exaggerated solemn look crossing his face.

“I will if you want me to,” he said. “But first the pastry shop?”

“Told you,” your aunt said with a laugh as she sprinkled sand on the paper, then blew on it and carefully placed the paper into the envelope. “Very well, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

By the time you got to the street where the exhibition and the pastry shop was on, you were almost trembling in anticipation. You barely listened to what your aunt was saying before you made your way to where the exhibition was held, your maid following you while your aunt and Teddy went to the pastry shop across the street. You quickly paid for your ticket, then stepped inside, the view making you hold your breath.

Oh you weren’t going to leave this place until you were sure you saw every single flower in detail.

The exhibition had the same layout of a museum, and all the flowers were divided into categories. Since you were one of the earliest guests, there were only a couple of people which would make it so much easier for you to spend as much time as you wanted with every flower, and a giddy giggle climbed up your chest which you quickly hid by clearing your throat and making your way to the nearest flower.

By the time you got to see most of the flowers in room, two hours had already passed and it was slowly getting crowded. Even if you could feel the gaze of some lords -who were probably there to chaperone their sisters- on you, you paid no mind to them, you were way too focused on the lovely sights in front of you to even turn your glances.

That was, until you heard a very familiar voice.

“What a coincidence to find you here Miss Y/N.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, heaved a sigh and opened them again before turning to look up at him. Benedict was smiling at you in a very proud manner, as if he was delighted to in fact find you there. Your heart skipped a beat but you pulled your brows into a frown, shooting him a glare which didn’t seem to discourage him at all.

“Is it?”

“Hm?”

“Is it a coincidence?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Seems like it.”

“It has nothing to do with the fact that you told me about this exhibition and knew very well I’d be here?”

“I suddenly found myself very much interested in flowers,” he said, his mischievous smile still playing on his lips. “And felt the need to see some.”

“Name one flower here.”

He looked around and pointed at the door with his thumb. “That’s a rose.”

“That’s also not a part of the exhibition, they just put it there for decoration.”

“Still counts.”

You heaved another dramatic sigh and walked past him to look at the next flower, hoping that he would get the message but of course he did not as he followed you.

“This one looks pretty.”

“It’s also very deadly,” you murmured, leaning in to inspect the petals better and Benedict tilted his head.

“Really?”

You nodded, deep in thought.

“Yeah, all parts of it,” you said. “But especially the rhizomes; the thickened roots. It’s called Flame Lily, it’s pretty and not that difficult to grow, it can even grow in sand dunes, but it’s very dangerous and people have to be very careful with it in their garden because it’s fatal to anyone who digests it. It’s also—” you stopped immediately when you caught yourself rambling and turned your head to see Benedict watching you with a soft smile and you narrowed your eyes, straightening your back and crossing your arms.

“You can read, can’t you?” you snapped and nodded in the direction of the small name plate with the information under it. “It’s all there.”

“I think that was the longest time you’ve talked to me so far.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

He almost resembled a hopeful puppy. “Tell me more.”

“I’m not the flower almanac,” you replied in a haste, trying to cover up the awkwardness that was taking over you for giving him an impromptu lesson in flowers and skipped to the next flower, with him following you suit.

“What does this one do?”

“It doesn’t do anything— alright, you know what?” you turned to glare at him. “You’re disrespecting the lady you’re courting right now. I don’t know about your arrangement nor do I care, but keep me out of this—”

“What?” he asked, his brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I want no part in it,” you said and he shook his head fervently.

“No not that, what lady?”

“The lady you’re courting.”

He blinked a couple of times. “…Who am I courting?”

“Charlotte Harlowe.”

“Charlotte?” he repeated. “We’re not—Jesus Christ, this again? Who did you hear that from?”

“What does it matter?” you asked and he ran a hand over his face, a look of exhaustion crossing his eyes as if this was the hundredth time he was explaining that to someone.

“Charlie is a close friend of mine.”

You scoffed a laugh and shot him a mocking glance. “Sure. Very close I’m guessing.”

“No she really is a friend. We could never see each other that way, there’s no courtship between us, nor could there ever be.”

“And you were what, talking about art when you were in that room alone back in your house?”

“That’s exactly what we were doing.”

“Well I…I don’t care,” you said, ignoring the small spark of hope shooting through your system and throwing your shoulders back. “Just keep me out of it—”

“I’m not courting anyone right now,” he cut you off as if it was imperative that you knew it and you raised your brows.

“One could assume your ways of trying to find love is not working,” you taunted. “I’m sure you are finding something though, so not a complete loss I suppose.”

That seemed to have rendered him speechless for a moment and you used that to your advantage, walking closer to the last flower in the exhibit; Venus Flytrap.

“I think I gave you the wrong impression when um, when we bumped into each other at Madame Delacroix’s shop and what you read about me on Whistledown, but I can assure you—” he was cut off when you held your breath. “What?”

“Stop talking and don’t move,” you said, your eyes fixed on the small fly buzzing over the Venus Flytrap before it landed on the open flower.

“Is that…?”

“Yeah,” you said, still holding your breath like if you breathed too loud it would somehow scare the fly away. “If that fly stays there long enough, it will close.”

Benedict tilted his head and you nibbled on your lip, counting down in your head until the trap closed, making you exhale in disbelief. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Benedict’s focus shifting to you but you were almost too dazed to even snap at him, and you leaned in closer to see the closed flower better, excitement rushing through you.

“Is it your favorite flower?” Benedict asked and you pulled back slightly, then turned to look at him.

“Venus Flytrap?” you asked. “No. Why?”

“I’ve heard some lords—never mind,” he said, making your frown deepen.

“What?”

“I’ve heard some lords call you that.”

“Venus Flytrap?” you asked and rolled your eyes. “How original of them.”

“So what is your favorite flower then?” he insisted. “Roses?”

“Sure,” you deadpanned. “Limitless options to choose from in the nature and I chose roses as my favorite.”

Benedict smiled slightly. “Tulips.”

“Not even close.”

“Orchids.”

“Now you’re just insulting me.”

“Dahlias.”

You arched a brow. “You know what a dahlia is?”

“I wasn’t raised in a barn,” he said, a proud grin lighting up his face again. “Is it dahlias?”

You shook your head. “My favorite isn’t that commonly found,” you said. “It’s not here, or in any florist in London.”

“What is it then?”

“Middlemist Red.”

He thought for a moment. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that one.”

“Makes two of us.”

He looked quite confused now. “Your favorite flower is a flower you haven’t seen before?”

“I’ve seen sketches of it,” you said. “It’s the most beautiful flower in the world. I don’t have to see it in person to know it’s my favorite, it simply is.”

“You like the idea of a flower?”

“You like the idea of love,” you said without missing a beat, “At least mine exists somewhere.”

That playful light started glimmering in his eyes again. “So does mine.”

“So you hope.”

“So I know.”

You let out a hum, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Well, I wouldn’t have the time to rest if I started correcting every man’s illusions with the truth,” you pointed out and looked around the room, then nodded at your maid. “That being said, I should take my leave now.”

“I was just about to walk outside as well,” Benedict said quickly and you shook your head, then stepped out of the building with him, your maid right behind you. “No really, do you believe in anything?”

“Other than the absolute truth?”

“One could claim there is no such a thing as absolute truth.”

“Oh I can assure you that there is,” you said. “Some of us just don’t have the luxury of entertaining such pointless ideas, unlike what your artistic circle of friends made you believe.”

He opened his mouth to argue with that thought for sure, but before he had a chance to say anything, a familiar, cheerful voice reached you.

“Y/N!”

You instantly turned your head to see Teddy running to you in full speed and he flung himself to you, making you suppress a smile before you knelt down to look at him better. He had traces of chocolate all over his cheeks and you wiped at them, tilting your head.

“Did you fall into the chocolate cauldron?”

“I ate two slices of chocolate cake!” he held up two fingers and you gasped.

“Did you?” you asked. “Two slices?”

“Yes!” he said, nodding hard enough to give himself a head spin. “And we got those—those small chocolates as well, those round ones!”

You couldn’t help the smile warming your face. “Which round ones?”

“You know! The ones I brought you the last time! You invented that drink which—which we put chocolates in milk, it was your idea!”

A small giggle escaped from your lips and wiped at his cheek again as you saw your aunt making her way to you. Her eyes averted from you to Benedict and your heart skipped a beat, you had almost forgotten he was right there. As soon as you straightened your back again, you saw him watching you with a smile which made you pull yourself together and you pursed your lips again, narrowing your eyes at him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, shaking his head as if he was trying to snap out of some sort of a daze and turned to your brother. “Hello there. I’m Benedict, what’s your name?”

Teddy came closer to you, half hiding behind your skirt. He had his moments of shyness around strangers but he was slowly starting to overcome that lately and he stole a look at you before turning to Benedict.

“I’m Teddy.”

“Nice to meet you Teddy,” Benedict said, extending his hand and Teddy eyed him for a moment before shaking his hand.

“Nice to meet you too.”

“Mr. Bridgerton, what a coincidence!” your aunt said and Benedict bowed, the perfect picture of dignity and charm.

“Lady Thorne,” he said. “What an honor to see you again.”

You rolled your eyes but thankfully your aunt didn’t see that.

“Are you here to see the exhibition as well?” your aunt asked and Benedict nodded.

“Yes I was,” he said. “Though I’m quite ignorant on flowers, Miss Y/N has been the most helpful tutor to me today.”

You made a face at him, making him suppress a smirk as your aunt pressed a hand over her chest.

“Aw such a delightful encounter then!”

“Debatable,” you muttered under your breath and Teddy looked up at you.

“Hm?”

“Nothing Teddy.”

“And I was so taken by all this newfound knowledge that I forgot to ask,” Benedict said. “Miss Y/N, are you by any chance coming to the Brewer Ball tonight?”

“Why?” you asked tersely and your aunt cleared her throat.

“Yes we are, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Any chance you could spare me a dance then?” he asked, making your aunt gasp and you gritted your teeth, glaring at him.

Oh he was doing this on purpose.

He knew your aunt would love it, and that you couldn’t say no right in front of her. Even though the idea was tempting, you clicked your tongue and heaved a sigh.

“…Sure,” you said after a couple of seconds and he smiled at you sweetly.

“Wonderful,” he said. “I should take my leave I think. Lady Thorne.”

“Mr. Bridgerton.”

“See you later Teddy.”

Teddy only waved at him and Benedict took a step, but stopped when he heard your voice.

“Mr. Bridgerton?”

He turned around immediately. “Miss Y/N?”

You let a mocking smirk pull at your lips.

“Do give Madame Delacroix my best,” you said. “When you go to um…pick up your sister’s gowns from her shop.”

He stared at you, his mouth slightly open in amusement and you curtsied, then turned your back to him to smile at your aunt who looked very happy, your implication lost to her as you knew it would be.

“So,” you said “Are we going home now?”

It wasn’t that you had been excited for a dance with him.

It wasn’t as if your heart was pacing in your chest when you had stepped into the ballroom, or that your eyes searched the crowd in hopes of finding him.

It wasn’t like any of that because if it were, then that would have meant that bitter taste at the back of your throat was disappointment. Even though Daphne, Anthony, Colin and Lady Bridgerton were in the ballroom, there was no sign of Benedict.

Whatever. It was good riddance, and even if your aunt was quite upset at him not showing up after asking you to spare him a dance, you had convinced her that you did not care.

Which you did not.

Almost two hours into the ball, your dance card was full and as much as you hated it, dancing with various lords somehow provided you a distraction from the anger boiling at the pit of your stomach. It was just flat out rude to not come to the ball after this afternoon’s exchange, but it served as a reminder that you should not even have spared him a thought, no matter what he said.

Instead, you were going to just focus on this extremely pointless and boring conversation you had been somehow pulled into after your sixth dance.

“No I haven’t been to one yet I’m afraid,” you said, making Lord Brumley raise his brows.

“You’ve never been to a horse race, my lady?”

“No.”

“You’re jesting surely?”

You shook your head. “I just haven’t find the occasion I think.”

“Oh I love horse races!” he said as if you had asked him. “You must allow me to accompany you to one this season my lady.”

“Are they that entertaining?”

“Extremely!” he said. “It’s right up there for me with fencing.”

“You like fencing as well,” you muttered, looking around as subtly as you could. “I see. Are you any good at it?”

“I’m very good at it,” he said with a tinge of pride in his tone, but none of the playfulness Benedict always possessed. “Back at school -I mean of course it’s been years now, but I was the best one among my friends…”

The rest of his sentence disappeared into the rest of the chatter in the ballroom as you saw Benedict walk into the ballroom, looking somehow out of breath. You could feel your heart skipping a beat as you noticed how handsome he looked, but you bit on your tongue, trying to focus.

It was rude at best and just plain arrogant at worst to just ask you for a dance and then deciding to skip the ball, as if you were one of those ladies desperate for his attention. The anger was making it hard to listen to anyone but your own thoughts, yet you forced yourself to turn your gaze to Lord Brumley who was very much interested in telling you how he had beaten his best friend in a fencing match, but soon enough he was cut off by another voice, a very, very familiar one.

“Miss Y/N.”

You gritted your teeth and turned to look at him in complete silence, arching a brow. He swallowed thickly and cleared his throat.

“May I have a word?”

“I’m in the middle of a conversation,” you said flatly as you turned to Lord Brumley who nodded at him.

“Hello Benedict.”

“Thomas.”

Oh great, they knew each other.

“Well I’m sorry to say this but the lady is quite interested in our conversation,” Lord Brumley said with a grin. “And I even got a very faint smile from her during our dance.”

You tried your hardest to keep yourself from rolling your eyes.

“Accidents happen I suppose,” you muttered, making Lord Brumley chuckle.

“Don’t you have someone else you should dance with?” Benedict asked him tersely and you took a deep breath.

“Excuse me Lord Brumley, it seems that I must destroy yet another man’s hopes,” you told him, making him laugh and bow his head.

“Of course, my lady.”

You walked away from him, with Benedict following you.

“Y/N—”

“I’m sure there’s supposed to be an honorific in there somewhere,” you said, your voice ice cold as you walked to the window just so that you could make sure you wouldn’t look at him. Benedict took a deep breath.

“I know I’m late,” he said. “I…please accept my apologies, I did not mean to.”

“I don’t care about your intention or your presence,” you said, grabbing a drink from the tray to sip it nonchalantly, as if your heart wasn’t beating in your throat. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Daphne looking at you two but you forced yourself to keep your gaze on the night sky, stars glimmering.

“No I was going to come here much sooner, with my family actually but—”

“I don’t know why you’re so insistent on always giving me all these explanations, it’s not as if I ask for any of them,” you cut him off. “That being said, whoever it is that’s holding your leash, Miss Harlowe or Madame Delacroix or someone else, they really ought to shorten it.”

He shook his head.

“I know what it looks like but I can assure you,” he said. “I meant what I said about dancing with you, I still want to dance with you—”

“Oh you still want to dance with me?” you asked, a disdainful chuckle escaping from your lips as you finally turned to look at him. “Well I’m honored, Mr. Bridgerton. Truly, I am.”

He paused for a moment, as if trying to find the right words.

“I was painting,” he ended up saying and you raised your brows, shrugging your shoulders.

“Alright, great. You can go back to that now.”

“No you don’t understand,” he said hastily. “I haven’t been able to paint for…for months now, lacking inspiration for so long and it was absolute torture but when I returned home today, I could finally start again. I lost the track of time until it was finished.”

Your heart made a leap in your chest. That feeling was quite familiar, you had lost the track of time while tending to your garden more times than you could count, and yet his explanation did nothing to soothe the pang of anger inside of you.

“I didn’t even hear my family leave,” he added. “It was almost a haze.”

“Sounds fun,” you said, your voice completely flat. “Must be nice to have that luxury to be left alone when you want to.”

“Would you dance with me for the last—”

“No,” you cut him off. “I promised the last dance to someone else, and even if I didn’t, I still wouldn’t dance with you.”

That look in his eyes was so sad that you felt your stomach turn but you forced yourself to keep your expression completely still.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’d like to make amends if you’d let me, it was never my intention to break your heart.”

You stared at him, that bitterness spreading through your system as an amused chuckle left your lips.

“See, this is the issue with you artists, your endless imagination,” you said. “I don’t have a heart. Don’t disappoint yourself or me any further by assuming otherwise.”

He paused only for a second before he shook his head.

“I don’t think that’s true.”

You scrunched up your nose and tilted the glass towards his direction to point at him. “Right, because you know me so well.”

“I think you want people to think you have no heart,” he pointed out. “And don’t get me wrong, you’re very good at convincing most of them. But I don’t think that’s the case.”

Your jaw clenched, that spark of fury shooting through your system as soon as the feeling of defenselessness crashed down on you. It was somehow way too familiar and you could feel your throat tightening but you managed to appear completely calm, tilting your head to the side.

“Quite the creative theory,” you commented and lowered your voice so that no one else in the ballroom could hear you but him.

“Did you come up with it while looking for inspiration between some lady’s legs?”

He pulled back slightly as if your words took him by surprise, and granted you would have never formed that sentence if it were any other lord, if it were any other person, especially now that you were in public but anger was pulsing through you too fast to let you even think about the consequences of your implications.

It was unbecoming of a lady, nor was it acceptable in any way but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, not when you were this furious at him, his assumptions and his actions tonight.

“Miss Y/N, I believe your next dance is with me?” Lord Johnson’s voice reached your ears and both you and Benedict turned your heads, snapping out of the haze.

“…Yes,” you said. “Of course, Lord Johnson.”

Benedict’s jaw clenched but he bowed his head at you. “My lady.”

“My lord,” you said and it was only when Lord Johnson took a step back that you took a step forward to Benedict so that he could hear your low voice even through the chatter of the ballroom.

“You don’t know me,” you nearly growled. “And you never will.”

And then, you dropped a curtsy and placed your hand in Lord Johnson’s, and let him lead you to the dance floor.

Chapter Text

This wasn’t the first time you had woken up incredibly tense because of a nightmare, nor would it be the last but that knowledge did nothing to fix your mood. You had stepped outside to tend to your garden with the first light of the morning, and it was only when your aunt sent a maid outside to call you back home that you realized it was nearly noon. You cracked your back, making a face and made your way back into the house.

“…And I’m telling you, I’ve seen how he looks at her,” your aunt’s voice carried outside when you reached the hallway and you pulled your brows together, tilting your head to the side.

“My dear,” your uncle sighed. “I believe you but don’t you think they would make an unlikely couple?”

Ah.

This could only be about you and—

No. You refused to even think about his name.

“She pretends to hate him, but I think she has a soft spot for him already,” your aunt said and you grimaced.

You? A soft spot for Benedict Bridgerton?

“Our Clover?” your uncle said as if he could hear your thoughts. “Having a soft spot for him?”

You repressed a small smile, your uncle knew you too well.

“If you think he’s an unlikely suitor because he’s a second son, that hardly means anything considering his family.”

“That’s not why I think he’s an unlikely suitor,” your uncle said. “I just think if you and Lady Bridgerton attempt to push those two together it could backfire, they’re too different.”

Well yes. Benedict was a naïve romantic fool and you were not, that was your main difference.

“You know what they say, opposites attract.”

“He’s an artist,” your uncle reminded her. “He has all the privileges of a first son and none of the responsibilities. Considering his family, he’s very used to getting whatever he wants, not to mention how in demand his attention is— he is spoiled in every aspect of life. Clover would eat him alive.”

“Or he could soften her,” your aunt said and heaved a sigh. “I don’t know Howard. I am worried about her, I don’t want her to marry someone whom she will only tolerate and not love.”

You swallowed thickly, barely aware of the fact that you were rubbing at your wrist -a nervous habit of yours that you couldn’t get rid of- and threw your shoulders back, then made sure to make some noise in the hallway before walking into the drawing room.

“Good morning,” you said and made your way to your uncle to kiss his cheek, then your aunt’s. “Oh I’m so tired and in need of a bath—Paula, could you please draw me a bath?”

Your maid curtsied and walked out of the drawing room.

“You’re working too hard on that garden, dearest.”

“I like it,” you said as the latest issue of Whistledown in your aunt’s hand caught your interest. “Anything interesting?”

“Yes actually, now that you mention it.”

“I already heard about Daphne courting with Duke Hastings,” you waved a hand in the air. “It makes perfect sense if you ask me—”

“There’s something about you in there.”

Your head shot up and you blinked a couple of times.

“I’m sorry?”

Your uncle suppressed a small smile, sipping his tea.

“Look at you, making it to Whistledown’s lines,” he taunted you as you sat up straighter. “Only took you what, two weeks?”

“Please tell me you’re jesting,” you managed to say and your aunt shook her head.

“Not at all.”

“May I?” you asked her and she handed you the paper.

“The last paragraph,” she said helpfully and you opened the paper in a haste, your heart beating in your throat as you skimmed the lines.

Speaking of unlikely couples this season seems to have brought us, it appears that there is a new recipient of Benedict Bridgerton’s attention. Almost every guest at the Brewer Ball could see how he was in such a hurry to talk to Miss Y/N, and if the rumors are true, that seems to have become a habit of his nowadays. Though we do not know how Miss Charlotte feels about it, this author cannot wait to see whether our favorite artist can in fact melt the cold demeanor of this season’s ice queen.

Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers.

“Clover?” your uncle felt the need to check as you stared at the lines in complete silence and you clenched your jaw, then lifted your head from the paper.

“Just in case this is not a bad dream and in fact is happening,” you pointed out as you stood up, putting the paper back on the coffee table. “If Teddy asks where I am, I’ve gone outside to scream.”

“You can do that after you return home,” your aunt said and you pulled your brows together.

“I am home?”

“Not for long you’re not,” she said. “We’re taking Teddy to meet Lady Bridgerton’s youngest boy after you have your bath and get ready.”

Your eyes widened. “What? No!”

“Yes. She invited us.”

“I’m not coming,” you protested immediately. “Tell her I’ve been sick with grief over today’s Whistledown and can’t leave my room.”

“I will say no such a thing and you’re alright,” she said. “Off you go.”

You shook your head fervently. “I don’t think it’s a good idea auntie,” you said and turned to shoot your uncle a pleading look. “Tell her.”

“Tell her what, dearest?”

“That it’s a terrible idea!”

“It’s merely a house visit.”

“No it’s not!” you insisted as you sat back down, making him smile slightly and steal a look at your aunt.

“What do you say Caroline?” he asked. “Should we let her sulk in her room all day or go see her secret suitor?”

“He’s not my suitor.”

“We should let her see her secret suitor,” your aunt played along and you let out a whine, slipping a little in the sofa.

“I’m not coming if he’s there,” you said. “My decision is final.”

Your aunt heaved a sigh. “He’s probably not there Y/N, I hear he likes going out with his brothers this time of the day.”

“But you’re not sure?”

“Well I didn’t ask Lady Bridgerton when she sent me an invitation for tea, no,” your aunt said and you ran a hand over your face before sitting up straight.

“Auntie,” you said. “You know what the ton will think if they see us even talking after this Lady Whistledown piece.”

“I doubt Lady Whistledown visits them in their home,” she pointed out. “She wouldn’t be seeing you, would she? And if you happen to have a conversation with him, that would be completely normal.”

“I will not be having a conversation with that—with that—” you stammered, furiously motioning at the gossip paper on the coffee table. “With that Lothario!”

“Lothario?” your uncle repressed a chuckle. “Dearest…”

“No, if I’m titled The Ice Queen by Lady Whistledown, it’s only fair she calls him by a fitting title as well!”

“I will let her know if I ever get to meet her,” your aunt stated and you licked your lips.

“You were there when he asked me for a dance beforehand,” you reminded her. “And he didn’t appear at the ball until it was nearly finished, and you’re still trying to push us together?”

“If I remember correctly, you were adamant on disliking him even before that ball.”

You scoffed a bitter laugh. “That’s not…” you trailed off. “That’s not relevant.”

“Is it not?”

“It was disrespectful when he didn’t keep his promise,” you insisted. “Do you not think so?”

“It was not ideal, yet not a grave mistake as you seem convinced it to be,” she said. “I think he just happened to accidentally point you in the direction of the closest runaway route by being late, that’s all.”

You gritted your teeth, your frown deepening before you heaved a sigh.

“I shall stay in their drawing room,” you said. “And I cannot promise to be nice to him.”

“Never thought you would be,” your aunt said with a smile after exchanging glances with your uncle and you huffed out, then pushed yourself off the sofa to make your way to your room.           

Fine, perhaps this wasn’t as terrible as you had assumed it would be.

Lady Bridgerton was very nice to you, Benedict was outside with his brothers -watching some sort of a boxing match as his mother had informed you and your aunt- and spending time with Eloise and Daphne was more entertainment than you’d had for a very long time. Even after Eloise excused herself to meet with Penelope, you and Daphne kept your conversation going and you had almost forgotten how long you had been there with the amount of fun you were having.

“Anthony does not like it,” Daphne said. “But I’d say my courtship with Duke Hastings is going quite well.”

You nodded your head.

“Well I’m glad you are happy,” you said. “If anyone should be a duchess it should be you.”

“…Do you really believe that?”

“Absolutely,” you said. “Are you jesting? You’re the diamond.”

“And do you think—” Daphne paused. “Do you think we would have a love marriage then? At the end of this courtship?”

You pulled back slightly and shrugged your shoulders.

“I don’t think I’m the right person to comment on matters of love,” you said and Daphne frowned.

“Why not?”

“I do not believe it exists.”

“At all?”

You shook your head. “At all.”

A slight smile curled Daphne’s lips.

“Well…” she said. “I do. And so do most of my family members. Benedict, for example.”

You could feel your heart starting to pace in your chest and you scoffed, sitting up straight.

“Good for him,” you said. “I hear he’s an artist, it’s no wonder he is under that delusion.”

“I do not believe it’s a delusion,” Daphne said. “But if you do not believe in love, what do you believe in?”

You paused for a moment, then pressed your lips together.

“Solitude,” you ended up saying. “I believe in solitude.”

A silence fell upon you and you looked around upon suddenly realizing Teddy was not in the room, nor could you hear him.

“Where’s Teddy?” you asked and Daphne waved a hand in the air.

“With Gregory and Hyacinth, I’m sure they’re playing somewhere in the house.”

“I’d better see where he is,” you said. “I will be right back.”

“Alright I will be here,” she said. “And perhaps when you come back you might let me hear you play the piano?”

“God forbid,” you said, making her let out a laugh and you shot her a small smile, then walked past your aunt and Lady Bridgerton and got out of the room. You walked through the hallway, pricking your ears up for any noise. When you heard the cheerful giggles and the sound of your brother, Gregory and Hyacinth running around, you smiled to yourself and walked past a room, the half open door catching your eye for a moment, making you stop dead in your tracks. You eyed the door and looked over your shoulder to see whether anyone was around, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip before you took a step to the room, raising your hand to slowly push the door open further.

This had to be the art room.

If the covered canvas perched on the wooden easel that was lit by sunlight wasn’t a clue, the overall mess of the room would still have made it clear. There were scrunched up papers all over the room, the palette on the small coffee table with paint all over it. By the corner of the room there looked to be a drawing desk with pieces of coal and pencils.

You weren’t supposed to be here.

One’s art was private unless it was shared with you and you knew that very well, but you were nearly enchanted by the room itself. It somehow made you feel like he was there, traces of him all over the room yet the lack of his presence meant you did not have to frown and be on guard all the time, just in case he peeked into something about you that you did not want him to see.

You lingered there for a moment in the middle of the room, then took a step towards the covered canvas, reaching out to graze your fingertips against the white cloth.

You were just going to take a quick peek at it and cover it again and walk away, no one had to know you’d seen it.

You swallowed thickly and pulled at the silk cover but as soon as it slipped off the canvas and allowed you to see the painting, a gasp got caught in your throat and you took a step back, staring at the painting.

Staring at yourself.

It was a painting of the flower exhibition you and Benedict had attended the other day and even if you could see the other people as well, the whole focus of the painting was you. It was as if your side of the painting was illuminated by the sunlight coming from the huge window while the rest of the crowd was a blur, so were the flowers except for the one you were inspecting—

Venus Flytrap.

He had told you, on the night of the ball. How he had been lacking inspiration for so long but that he could paint when he returned from the flower exhibition…

He was talking about you. He had been late because he was painting you.

You let out a breath, your hand covering your mouth as you blinked back the tears without even knowing why you were tearing up. It felt impossible to drag your gaze away from the painting and you were beginning to think you could just stay there forever, gazing at the art piece in front of you. You were in such a haze that you hadn’t even noticed the approaching footsteps in the hallway until someone cleared their throat, making you recoil and whirl around on your heels.

Benedict was leaning against the doorframe, a slightly abashed look crossed his face and he nodded at the painting.

“You know, I’m quite certain I left that covered.”

That.

That right there was more than enough to make the memories rush through your mind.

Back when you were still living in that hellhole your parents called home, there were certain rules and it was crucial not to cross them. Sneaking around was one of them, you weren’t supposed to be anywhere they didn’t want you to be, otherwise your father would get angry and—

That never ended well.

You could feel the panic rising from your heaving chest before it took over you and the cloth slipped from your hand as you rushed out of the door, ignoring him saying your name. You could swear you were as fast as a bolt as you ran downstairs to get yourself out of the house, trying to breathe but it felt impossible. Fear was already growing bigger and bigger in your throat and you were quite familiar with the feeling, but somehow it did nothing to put you at ease as you reached the garden.

You could feel your legs shaking as you let yourself fall on your knees, then laid your trembling hand flat on the grass, grasping your wrist with your other hand to squeeze it.

He was away. Both your father and your mother were away from you, miles and miles away and they couldn’t get to you anymore so this fear, though it was no stranger to you, did not make any sense.

They were not here.

You wiped at your eyes that were burning with tears before pressing your palm back on the grass again, letting out a shaky breath.

You really needed to pull yourself together, and you were going to as soon as your heartbeat stopped being so deafening, pacing in your chest with such speed that you could swear it hurt.

“Y/N?”

Oh, great.

You couldn’t even answer him if you wanted. You were too busy trying to get enough air into your lungs, as hard as it felt, and Benedict entered your sight before he crouched down to look at you better.

“Are you alright?” he asked. “What’s wrong? Should I get someone? The doctor?”

You shook your head, your gaze fixed on the grass as you tried to get your breathing under control.

“But you—” he reached out as if he wanted to hold you and you flinched, your jaw locking in place.

“Do not touch me,” the growl that spilled through your clenched teeth sounded nearly inhuman and he pulled his hand back immediately as if he just got burned.

“Alright,” he said, his voice soft. “I will not. Can I sit here with you?”

You shrugged your shoulders, focusing on the feeling of soft soil under your palm and he sat down beside you as you sniffled.

“I’m fine,” you answered before he could ask anything, still staring at the grass and he nodded.

“Yeah I know,” he said. “I wanted to sit here that’s all, you just happened to be here.”

You scoffed a bitter laugh, still rubbing at your wrist before you took a deep breath.

“I wasn’t trying to…” you trailed off. “I was just curious.”

“The cover does arise curiosity now that you mentioned it.”

“And you were supposed to be outside.”

“I was, I just got back,” he paused for a moment. “I wasn’t aware you’d be here.”

“Your mother invited my aunt for tea so that my little brother could make friends with yours.”

“Oh Greg will get along well with Teddy,” he said. “Probably Hyacinth too.”

You nodded slowly, rubbing at your eye with the back of your hand and a fond smile crossed his lips.

“You didn’t tell me you…” you trailed off. “You didn’t tell me that was what you were painting.”

The tips of his ears went pink and he dragged his gaze away from you, ripping a piece of grass to wrap it around his finger in a nervous manner.

“It’s not finished yet,” he said. “And I did not mean to scare you, please accept my apologies.”

You gawked at him. “It’s your house,” you reminded him. “I was the one sneaking around.”

“That has no relevance to the situation.”

You bit back a smile, then pursed your lips and cleared your throat.

“I was wrong,” you said and he turned to look at you.

“I’m sorry?”

“Before I saw your painting, I just assumed that you didn’t have much of a talent and that all the ton claimed you did because those ladies liked the way you look, not your works,” you said. “I was wrong, you do have talent. A lot of it, it seems.”

That mischievous smile lifted the corner of his lip.

“Is that a compliment I hear, Miss Y/N?”

“I have better things to do than complimenting you,” you spat almost too quickly. “I’m just sharing an observation, that’s all.”

Benedict’s smile widened and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“What?”

“The way I look?”

You rolled your eyes. “Go find someone else to boost your arrogance, it’s not as if there’s a lack of volunteers.”

He held up his hands, gesturing surrender and you wiped at your nose again, taking a shaky breath. His eyes flickered over your face, then he cleared his throat and motioned at the garden.

“What does that do?”

“What?”

“That flower, do you know what it is?”

You pulled your brows together to look at what he was pointing at, and scoffed.

“Yes, I know what a tulip is and so do you.”

“But what does it do?” he insisted. “Does it do anything interesting?”

“No, it just looks pretty,” you said. “It used to be extremely popular though.”

“It still is.”

“Well yes but in 17^th century there was this period called tulip mania,” you said. “People used to sell Semper Augustus tulips for extremely high prices, and even if one could afford it, it was so difficult to find.”

He hummed. “What’s Semper Augustus?”

“Well it’s a type of tulip, it’s white with…” you didn’t even notice you had pulled your hand off the grass to motion at the petals, “There are red flares through white, it’s admittedly beautiful or so people say. I think the only really beautiful tulip is The Queen of the Night Tulip though, it’s this deep purple flower and—” you stopped yourself when you noticed him listening to you with a soft smile. “What are you doing?”

“Learning new things about tulips,” he said and you blinked a couple of times, then bit inside your cheek, frowning slightly.

“Why?”

“I’m curious.”

Something told you he wasn’t talking about tulips anymore and you scoffed, rolling your shoulders back.

“Have you had the chance to read Whistledown today?”

He nodded. “My mother and sisters are avid readers, it’s a bit hard to avoid it.”

“So you’ve seen it.”

“The last paragraph, yes,” he said. “Ice Queen has a nice ring to it, wouldn’t you say?”

You let out an unladylike groan. “Don’t look so satisfied with yourself.”

He had the audacity to feign innocence. “I have no idea what you speak of.”

“You’re smiling.”

That roguish smile of his widened. “Don’t be jealous just because you have a sickness that prevents you from smiling.”

You raised your brows. “Oh you talked to Kitty?”

“She talked to me the other night.”

You narrowed your eyes, tilting your head to the side and an exaggerated scandalous expression took over his face.

“In the ballroom, Miss Y/N,” he said. “I will not have you question my virtue.”

You couldn’t help the laughter escaping from your lips, the sound making him smile as well.

“Right,” you said as you tried to adapt a solemn expression, biting at your lip. “Your nonexistent virtue you mean.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Who’s to say?”

“Me.”

“Fine, other than you who’s to say?”

“Lady Whistledown.”

“Now wait a second—”

“The ton.”

“Alright, but—”

“Anyone I could stop on the street.”

“I feel like that’s a bit of a—”

“That tree over there,” you pointed at the direction of the tree you were referring to and he chuckled.

“Even so,” he said. “Assuming Miss Kitty and I could be anything but acquaintances might just be the worst insult you have thrown at me.”

“So far,” you stated. “It’s only noon.”

He watched you with a soft smile on his lips, that gentle light shining in his blue eyes for a moment before you averted your gaze from him and forced yourself to frown.

“Well I’d better…” you motioned at the house. “Daphne will wonder where I am.”

“Right,” he said after a moment as if he had forgotten there were other people in the house, then he stood up to offer you his hand. You paused only for a moment before you placed your hand in his, letting him pull you upright but as soon as you did, a warmth spread from your hand to your whole body. He seemed to have felt the small surge of lightning you did, because his grip tightened over your hand, the close proximity letting his pleasant scent fill your lungs and you swallowed thickly, pulling your hand out of his and forcing yourself to take a step back.

“This changes nothing by the way,” you said in a haste, motioning between you. “I still think you’re incredibly annoying.”

He put his hands into his pockets, shooting you a smile.

“Oh don’t worry,” he said. “I still think you’re cold as ice.”

“And your assumptions about me at the ballroom were arrogant at best, unacceptable at worst,” you added, sticking your nose up in the air. “Make sure not to express them again.”

“Do you always order people around or am I just special?”

“Do you always lack the capability of following the simplest instructions or am I just special?” you asked back and he gave you a playful look.

“You are just special.”

You made a face, “I know the whole ton has nothing better to do than feed your arrogance, but you’re not half as charming as you think you are.”

He shrugged his shoulders, feigning innocence. “You on the other hand are adorable when you’re frustrated.”

You could feel a fire spreading over your cheeks but you forced yourself to focus, frowning at him.

“I—you—” you stammered and scoffed. “Just do as I say.”

The mischievous glimmer in his blue gaze was impossible to miss. “As my lady wishes.”

Your lips pulled into an annoyed pout, making him bow his head in an attempt to hide his smile and you narrowed your eyes at him, then walked past him to go back into the house, your heart still pacing in your chest.

After you and your aunt left the Bridgerton house, your aunt told you it was too lovely of a weather to spend time indoors, so after dropping by the house to change your gown, you and she went outside for a picnic.

The issue was that the whole ton seemed to have the exact same idea with your aunt.

Daphne was promenading with Duke Hastings as usual, and Eloise and Penelope were in a deep discussion by the lake, not paying attention to anyone else. A couple of minutes after arriving in the park, your aunt had gone to join Lady Featherington, Lady Danbury and Lady Bridgerton under the big umbrella, which was obviously some sort of an encouragement for some of the gentlemen to try to make small talk with you.

Needless to say, it was absolute torture.

You slipped past the Copper family and made your way to the gazebo a bit far away from the crowd with only a lady who was sitting in it, but she seemed very interested in her book and as soon as you got close enough to recognize who it was, you stopped dead in your tracks.

Oh. Charlotte.

She must have caught your sudden pause from the corner of her eye because she turned her head and instantly gave you a bright smile.

“Y/N!” she said. “Hello!”

“Uh hello,” you lingered in your spot. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. I’m just avoiding my suitors and this seemed far enough.”

She let out a giggle and placed her book beside her.

“Nonsense, come!” she said and you bit inside your cheek.

“No no, never mind. I’ll just go somewhere else—”

“Oh don’t be silly!” she said and grabbed the small paper bag beside her. “I even have snacks.”

You eyed the paper bag and stole a look at her. “Really?”

“Yeah!” she said and patted the spot next to her. “Come sit!”

You heaved a sigh and went to sit beside her and she offered you the paper bag, letting you reach inside and get some walnuts into your palm.

“Thanks,” you muttered, popping one into your mouth. “What are you doing here away from the crowd?”

“I like reading outside,” she said. “I find it very relaxing. Are your suitors bothering you that much?”

You heaved a sigh and slipped a little on the bench. “You’d think I eliminated most of them by glaring but some of them are more stubborn than I thought.”

“It’s probably because of the diamond in the rough thing.”

You pulled your brows together and turned to look at her better. “What?”

“That’s what they call you,” she said. “Because the queen considered making you a diamond—”

“She didn’t consider that.”

“And you’re not as—well, nice to people as Daph,” she said almost apologetically. “And some people say you grew up poor until your uncle adopted you so…Diamond in the rough.”

You clicked your tongue. “Interesting,” you said. “I seem to be getting a lot of titles nowadays.”

“Well, Daphne and Duke Hastings will probably get married,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders. “Most of the lords know they have no chance with her anymore, aside from some really rich and confident ones.”

“And the others are beginning to flock to me like sheep down a hill?”

“Seems that way,” she said. “And you’re very beautiful.”

You made a face. “No, that’s not the reason.”

She raised her brows. “No?” she asked. “Then what is?”

“My uncle is rich with no heir other than my little brother,” you said. “And in case of his death, God forbid, my little brother will need guidance until he comes of age to control the wealth of the family. Who would be a better prospect than my future husband with direct access to said wealth?”

She scrunched up her nose.

“I don’t believe money is of any importance when it comes to marriage,” she said. “The only thing that matters is love.”

“Is there something in the water they serve in the Bridgerton House?” you asked, making her let out a giggle. “No seriously, first the whole family and now you…”

“Benedict mentioned you don’t believe in love,” she said. “I think you’re wrong.”

“The feeling is mutual Charlotte.”

“Lottie,” she corrected you and you nodded.

“Lottie,” you repeated and paused before stealing a look at her. “So you and Ben—uh, Mr. Bridgerton? Are the rumors true?”

“Mm, he mentioned that too,” she said and scoffed a laugh, then shook her head. “I do not understand why everyone assumes that. We’re close friends.”

Your heart skipped a beat, making you frown and you sat up straighter.

“Anyone else then?”

“I don’t have as many suitors,” she said and shrugged her shoulders, making your stomach flip, guilt seeping through you.

“I swear to you, you’re not missing out on anything,” you tried to console her. “Aside from a terrible headache, because—”

You stopped talking as soon as your eyes caught the sight of Kitty seeming to be in a deep conversation with Benedict. She let out a clear laugh, batting her lashes at him and you narrowed your eyes, a strange, bitter taste appearing at your throat.

“She has been trying to get his attention for weeks now,” Charlotte’s voice made you turn your head and you gritted your teeth, then cleared your throat.

“Oh I didn’t…” you trailed off. “I wasn’t looking at them.”

“No?” she asked and you shook your head vehemently.

“I don’t care who tries to get whose attention,” you said. “Godspeed. Or whatever they say.”

Charlotte gave you a bright smile and opened her mouth but before she could say anything, another voice cut through hers.

“Miss Y/N, good afternoon.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, then took a deep breath and turned to the man who was standing by the gazebo’s entrance.

“My lord?” you greeted him like a question and he bowed.

“Lord Shaw,” he introduced himself. “I was wondering if you would like to promenade with me.”

You would have liked nothing more than saying no, but you knew you could not. You were a debutante and any direct rude comment would affect your uncle and aunt so you took a deep breath and nodded.

“Of course,” you said and shot Charlotte a smile. “Thank you for the snacks and entertaining conversation Lottie.”

“Anytime,” she said sweetly and you stood up from the bench, Benedict’s head whipping around immediately as if he had just realized you were in fact in the park, which considering how hard you had been trying to get away from the crowd, wouldn’t have been a shock. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Kitty frowning upon the sudden disruption in their conversation but you forced yourself to keep your gaze on Lord Shaw.

“After you my lady,” he said as he took a step back and you bit inside your cheek.

“Thank you,” you said and walked out of the gazebo with Lord Shaw beside you, still feeling Benedict’s gaze on you.

“Are you alright my lady?”

Your head snapped up and you let out a breath, then nodded.

“Yes,” you said. “I’m not good with warm weather, that’s all.”

He shot you a grin. “I would not expect anything less from the ice queen.”

You had to remind yourself not to make a face even if it felt nearly painful to keep yourself from doing so, then you cleared your throat before taking a deep breath.

“Yes,” you murmured. “Yes, neither would I.”

Chapter Text

No matter what anyone else thought or assumed, you weren’t jealous.

That would have been ridiculous. Getting jealous of someone like him, someone who was the complete opposite of you with his silly fixation of love was out of question, so at best you were merely annoyed by this whole…

Charade.

That was what it was. It was an absolute charade, and you still found it hard to believe that you were somehow caught in the middle of it.

“Clover my dear, you’re not going to believe this,” your aunt’s voice made your head snap up from the geraniums you were currently tending to in the garden.

“Good morning to you too auntie,” you said, wiping the sweat off your brow before taking your gardening gloves off. “What’s happened?”

She waved what looked to be the newest issue of Whistledown at you.

“Look at this!”

“What?” you asked, your heart skipping a beat. “Don’t tell me she wrote about me again. I didn’t even attend the last ball, there’s nothing to write about.”

“Well, you were not there but Kitty Morris was,” she said, still waving the paper. “And she has made use of your absence, if you don’t mind me saying. Look at the first paragraph.”

You frowned and reached out to take the paper from her, then skimmed the lines.

Dear Readers,

It seems that the ton’s favorite artist Benedict Bridgerton’s attention is quite easy to sway. As if it was not enough that Charlotte Harlowe’s hopes for a matrimony with him has been shut down quite brutally with Miss Y/N’s sudden raise to suitors’ demand, it certainly looks like Kitty Morris might have just gotten what she has been trying to get since the beginning of the season. The guests of the Phillips ball couldn’t help but notice how happy Miss Morris was during her dance with Mr. Bridgerton whose eyes kept searching the crowd. This writer can only assume that his dance partners, as pleasant as they were, were not very entertaining seeing that he left the ballroom quite early, and was seen returning home in the early hours of the morning.

The rest of it was about Daphne and Duke Hastings along with Mr. Phillips’ dance with Lady Anne at the said ball, and you tried your hardest to ignore the way your stomach sunk, that bitter taste climbing up your throat but when you raised your head to look at your aunt, your expression was completely blank.

“Good for Kitty Morris.”

“Clover.”

“What?” you asked as you gave her the paper back, then put your gloves on again. “I gather they’d make a good couple.”

“Don’t do that.”

“I’m not doing anything,” you said through your teeth as you dug the small shovel into the soil and accidentally hitting the big rock underneath. “I have better things to think about than Benedict Bridgerton’s many romantic dalliances.”

“It’s alright if you just told me if it bothers you,” she insisted. “It’s just me my dear, and I know you have a soft spot for him—”

“I do not have a soft spot for him auntie,” you cut her off. “I barely know him.”

“You do not have to know everything about him to have certain…feelings for him.”

“The only feeling I have for him is annoyance,” you said, now forgoing the shovel to dig your fingers into the soil, trying to pull out the rock but it didn’t budge. “And who he dances with does not bother me at all.”

“Why didn’t you go to the ball?”

You stopped trying to pull out the rock, huffing out a breath. You had planned to go to that ball at first, in fact, you had even picked your dress and such the day before, and then…

And then that dream had happened.

Even remembering what it was like was enough to send a fire over your face. You could still taste his kiss on your lips, both of you tangled in each other’s arms in your bed, his mouth swallowing your gasp as he—

You shook your head slightly to snap yourself out of your thoughts and bit inside your cheek.

“I told you,” you managed to say. “I had a stomachache.”

She tilted her head, giving you a knowing look.

“Nervousness?”

“…Lemonade,” you ended up saying. “Why would I be nervous?”

“Because you like his presence?”

“No, I—” You were cut off when you pulled out the stone so fast that it accidentally hit the wood of the small fence around the geraniums with a loud crack and you cleared your throat, then put the stone aside. “I barely notice his presence if I’m honest.”

“Oh is that right?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Whistledown is right for once, his attention seems to be easily swayed as all other artists. I couldn’t possibly like his presence if I tried.”

“Regardless,” she said. “You’re still coming to the poetry recital?”

You clicked your tongue. “Will he be there?”

“I think so,” she said. “But it shouldn’t bother you at all. After all, you barely notice his presence, do you not?”

You paused only for a moment before you took a deep breath and smiled.

“Precisely,” you said. “Should be easy enough.”

“Y/N!” Teddy’s voice echoed through the garden and he ran up to you. “A really pretty lady came to visit you!”

You pulled your brows together and took off the gloves again. “What?”

Teddy pointed at the house and you turned your head to see Charlotte entering the garden. Your aunt was as surprised as you were but she managed to cover that much faster than you did.

“Miss Harlowe!” she said, “What a lovely surprise!”

“Lady Thorne,” Charlotte said with a quick curtsy. “Hello Y/N!”

“Hello?”

“Teddy dear, come with me, let’s go back to the house,” your aunt said as he took his hand and Teddy stole a look at Charlotte before looking up at your aunt.

“She’s so pretty auntie,” he said with a very loud whisper, making you smile and Charlotte pressed a hand over her chest.

“Aw you’re the sweetest, Teddy!”  she said and Teddy bowed in an exaggerated manner, no doubt mimicking older lords he had seen before and took your aunt’s hand before going back to the house with him.

“Your brother is adorable,” Charlotte said as she sat beside you on the ground. “Are these geraniums? I love geraniums!”

You blinked a couple of times. “Lottie, what are you doing here?”

“I came to spend time with you of course,” she said. “I was thinking perhaps after this, we could go to the bookshop? I’d like to get familiar with the poetry that will be read this evening beforehand.”

“Why would we do that?”

“Well I don’t like it when they read it and I hear it for the first time,” she said. “That’s also why I always read the ending of the novels first before starting on them, I like knowing what happens beforehand.”

“Lottie—”

“Anyway, I know it’s not the same with poetry but it’s still nice to know the themes. I heard the theme will be longing, that should be interesting! I don’t really understand why people do that though, it cannot be that difficult to talk of one’s feelings, especially if you’re in love.”

“Lottie, did we make plans before and I forgot?” you asked and she shrugged her shoulders.

“No,” she said. “I just did not have anything to do today, so I figured we could spend some time together.”

“Because…?”

“Because we’re friends!” she said as if that was all the explanation you needed, but that explanation just made you even more confused. Her smile widened at the surprised look on your face and she clapped her hands together.

“So,” she said. “Tell me more about geraniums and after we’re done here, I’ll tell you about my favorite poems.”

You thought for a second, then shook your head slightly and pulled the gardening gloves off your hands.

“Alright then,” you muttered, trying to repress a smile. “Why not?”

Spending time with Lottie was genuinely entertaining. It was as if she was raised in a perfect world where everyone was happy and had no problems other than picking what book to read next. After your visit to the bookshop, you had gotten back home, written your sister a letter talking about Lottie and put it on the small desk to make sure it would be sent tomorrow, then started getting ready for the evening.

You were going to attend a poetry reading on longing and if this was not a sign that the universe had decided to give you a hard time personally, you didn’t know what it was.

“At least the garden is pretty,” you commented to your aunt as you both walked through it to approach the big house and your aunt looked around.

“Oh it really is,” she commented. “Not prettier than yours though.”

“You’re such a master at lying auntie, has anyone ever told you that?” you joked as you linked your arm with hers and she let out a laugh.

“I only say what I see,” she said. “For example, now I see Lord Shaw making his way to us with a hopeful look on his face.”

You repressed a groan and came to a slow stop with your aunt as Lord Shaw more or less threw himself your way.

“Lady Thorne,” he greeted your aunt. “Miss Y/N.”

“Lord Shaw.”

“You look so beautiful my lady.”

You tried not to roll your eyes. “Thank you.”

“I wasn’t aware you liked poetry.”

“I do not,” you said and your aunt discreetly poked you on the ribs, making you clear your throat. “I mean…I have yet to find one that is appealing to me, so my search continues.”

“Perhaps tonight your search will be over and you will be taken by one of the poems.”

“I doubt it,” you muttered and he tilted his head.

“Pardon?”

“I hope I will,” you answered him and turned your head when you heard your name being called, your eyes falling on Daphne who was waving at you.

“Oh my goodness, I see my dear friend over there,” you said. “I hope you enjoy the evening Lord Shaw. Auntie.”

Your aunt repressed a smile and shook her head slightly but didn’t comment on it as you walked away from them to approach Daphne

“I swear to God the next man who tries to make small talk with me…” you grumbled and she let out a laugh.

“I could tell,” she said. “You looked truly tormented.”

“I am tormented.”

“Because you have suitors?”

“Yeah,” you said. “I can only be so intimidating when I’m in front of my aunt. Is Charlotte around?”

“She's not here yet,” she said. “I heard some of them were intimidated by the way.”

“Not enough of them,” you said. “How about you? Where’s your favorite suitor?”

“The Duke will not attend as I’ve been told by Lady Danbury,” she said. “Which means I will be approached by less….favored suitors as soon as I’m alone.”

“You could be mean to them?”

“The same way you could be nice to them?” Daphne asked with a grin, then held her breath as if a thought struck her, her eyes stopping somewhere over your shoulder for a moment. “I would like to make a deal with you for tonight.”

You pulled your brows. “What is it?”

“I shall be mean to the first person who talks to me, and you shall be nice to the first person who talks to you.”  

“I’m unable to be nice Daph.”

“As nice as you can be,” she insisted and you rolled your eyes, heaving a dramatic sigh.

“Fine,” you grumbled, “I guess I will be nice to the first man who starts a conversation—”

“Miss Y/N,” Benedict’s voice cut through your sentence as he entered your sight, almost out of breath. “Hello.”

You frowned, looking around. “…Did you just materialize out of thin air?”

“How are you?”

“No I swear to God you weren’t anywhere near here a moment ago—”

“This is a conversation that I’m starting,” he said as if he didn’t hear you and you threw your head back to look up at the sky, then turned to him.

“Of course it is,” you said and turned to Daphne. “I take it back, you can be mean.”

“I have no idea what you speak of,” she told you with a grin. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go talk to mama until a suitor comes along that I can be mean to. That’s the deal after all.”

“You will pay for this Daphne.”

“I’m not intimidated at all,” she called back as she walked away from you and Benedict, and you crossed your arms, turning to look up at him, willing to push the memory of the dream to the back of your mind.

“What do you want?”

He tilted his head. “This is you being nice?”

“Yes,” you deadpanned. “Can’t you tell?”

Benedict shot you that playful smile of his and despite your better judgement, your heart skipped a beat.

“I thought you’d hate poetry.”

“I don’t know why you would think that,” you said as you grabbed a lemonade from the tray a maid was holding. “I happen to be a lover of poetry.”

A surprised look crossed his face. “Really?”

“No!” you grimaced. “Obviously not. I find it incredibly vexing when people talk about their feelings, what makes you think I’d read about them willingly?”

Benedict’s smile widened. “Right, of course.”

“You love it, I gather,” you said before you took a sip. “As artists do. I heard you’ve been getting quite the inspiration lately.”

He was smart enough to understand the double innuendo, no doubt thinking back to the last time you had snapped at him at the ballroom and he bit down a smile.

“I don’t know where you’ve heard it from Miss Y/N,” he said. “And I know better than to assume anything about you or how you feel—”

“That’s a welcomed surprise.”

“But a simple listener would think you’re jealous.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, your stomach doing a flip.

“Jealous?” you repeated with a scoff. “Of you being—being inspired?”

He shot you a mischievous smirk. “Seems that way, would you not say?”

“Not at all.”

“No?”

“No because I doubt the outcome would be worth much if inspiration is that easy to be at anyone’s service,” you pointed out, your voice like a silk and then let an innocent smile pull at your lips. “And that enthusiastic to sate their desire for…art.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was impressed as he raised his brows, letting out a breath of disbelief.

“Well played.”

“Why thank you,” you said as you sipped your lemonade again but both of you turned your heads as a giggle reached you. Kitty Morris stole a look at you before turning to talk to her friends and you repressed a laugh.

“That’s your cue,” you said and he tilted his head.

“What?”

“Your dance partner is giggling in your direction, what more of a sign do you need?”

“My dance partner?” he asked, then heaved a sigh as the thought hit him. “Lady Whistledown.”

“Mm hm. Off you go.”

“I’m not going,” he insisted. “If only you were there at the ball, you—”

“Mr. Bridgerton,” Kitty’s voice reached you two as she approached you and you arched a brow. “And Miss Y/N. Good evening.”

“Miss Morris,” Benedict said and a smile lit up her face.

“I was just telling my friend how excited I am for tonight’s poems,” she said. “I’m such an admirer of every aspect of art you see.”

“With no inspiration, apparently,” you muttered under your breath and Benedict managed to stop the small chuckle threatening to leave his lips by clearing his throat.

“That’s lovely to hear Miss Morris.”

“And what is your favorite poem that will be read tonight?”

You could feel the fire of the anger bubbling at the pit of your stomach as Kitty shot him a glance from under her lashes and you clicked your tongue.

“I’d better leave the poetry admirers such as you to your conversation,” you said and Benedict shook his head fervently.

“No we’re just—”

“No it’s alright,” you said. “Enjoy your evening Mr. Bridgerton. Miss Morris.”

She shot you a forced smile before turning to Benedict who looked genuinely disappointed that you were leaving but you refused to let it make you linger there any longer. You turned around and made your way to your aunt, still trying to repress that unfamiliar anger threatening to take over you.

But for some reason, trying to repress that did not work.

You had zero idea what the poems were really about or what their overall themes were; apparently tonight had to test your patience since Kitty had sat right behind you with her sisters. They hadn’t stopped whispering for the last hour and it was only when the person at the front row asked a question about a line that their whispering became clear enough for you to hear.

“Mark my words, he will ask me for a dance at the next ball as well.”

“Perhaps you are his muse!”

“It wouldn’t surprise me if I was. He is very fond of talking with me as you can see.”

“Oh Kitty!”

“Perhaps he will propose to you by the end of the season!”

You could taste the bitterness climbing up your throat and you gritted your teeth, pressing a hand over your bodice before reaching out to touch your aunt’s hand.

“My dear?”

“I will go to the washroom and be back,” you whispered and walked out of the room, but instead of going down the hallway, you descended the stairs and stepped out of the house. The cool fresh air was a great remedy to the bitter fire in your chest so you took a deep breath, then stood on your tiptoes to get a better look at the garden. The flowers were as expected from any rich house, rows and rows of roses and tulips and looked around to see whether there was anything different, but it was a bit hard in the moonlight. You approached the flower beds, inspecting the roses closer but you turned around when someone cleared their throat, your heart climbing up to your throat as soon as you saw Benedict.

“What are you doing here?”

Benedict put his hands into his pockets and shrugged his shoulders. “This is the one night you will be nice to me, I’m not wasting it sitting in a room where I can’t even talk to you.”

You repressed a smile and crossed your arms.

“And you decided to risk my reputation?”

“No one will be leaving that room for a while, they just started on Byron.”

“Of course they did,” you muttered and turned to the flowers. “Whose house is this again?”

“Lord and Lady Lowell.”

“Who told them to spare the whole garden to tulips and roses and nothing more?”

“It’s not just tulips and roses.”

You motioned around. “Do you see anything else?”

Benedict tilted his head, giving you a mischievous grin. “I’m guessing that means you haven’t seen the greenhouse yet?”

Your head shot up. “There’s a greenhouse?”

“Mm hm,” he said. “There’s mostly fruit and vegetables and some herbs though. Do you want to see it?”

“It’s probably locked.”

“They don’t keep it locked.”

You raised your brows. “And you know that how?”

He looked a bit taken aback and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh…I—I heard it from…someone.”

You scoffed. “Oh I’m sure,” you said. “You remember that I carry a knife, right?”

“Trust me, that knowledge refuses to leave my mind.”

“Even if I go there with you, the moment you think you can try something I would not hesitate to cut you.”

He held up his hands. “I swear on my honor,” he said. “I just…haven’t seen you for a while, that’s all. I was hoping we could talk, I do not expect or ask for anything more.”

“What makes you think I want to talk to you?”

“You haven’t walked away from me yet.”

You pulled your brows together and rolled your eyes.

“Fine,” you said with a dramatic sigh. “Lead the way.”

The greenhouse was on the other side of the garden, away from anyone else’s gaze. Benedict opened the door and stepped aside so that you could slip into the greenhouse before him and your eyes searched the place, and you tilted your head.

It looked more like a food garden than a greenhouse.

This was what you didn’t understand about the people owning greenhouses. They didn’t appreciate it, if one day in the future you had a greenhouse, you were going to fill it with all kinds of rare plants and flowers rather than growing only vegetables and fruits.

“You were not jesting,” you muttered as you walked in the greenhouse slowly and he leaned back to the glass wall.

“No flowers though.”

“No,” you said as you approached to look at the tiny strawberries, then ripped one out to toss it at Benedict. He caught it mid-air and shot you an exaggerated look of shock.

“Scandal, Miss Y/N,” he said. “Where are your manners?”

You shrugged your shoulders and popped a strawberry into your mouth.

“Do you honestly think Lady Lowell steps a foot here?” you asked. “Most probably her gardener does, and something tells me he would not mind. Besides, I thought you wanted me to be nice to you.”

“It does make a lovely change now that you mention it,” he commented as he sat back on one of the narrow wooden counters, keeping his gaze on you while you made your way around the greenhouse. “Why did you leave me with Kitty Morris of all people?”

You looked at him over your shoulder before taking a look at the hibiscus flower in front of you.

For tea, probably.

“I merely assumed you two had much to talk about.”

“Y/N.”

“She likes poetry too,” you said, trying to repress the smile threatening to pull at your lips as you approached the rosemary plant in the pot. “And art.”

“Can you be nice to a person for only half a minute? I will not judge, I just wish to know.”

“I am being nice to you, I haven’t even insulted you yet,” you played along before you turned to glare at him. “That being said, if you ever told about this to anyone—”

He grinned. “No worries. The rest of the ton shall remain intimidated by you. It does not leave here.”

“Good,” you commented and ran your palm over the rosemary, then went to the next potted plant to take a closer look at it.

Mint. It was mint.

“Well this brings back memories,” you muttered as you ripped a leaf to chew on it and Benedict hummed.

“How come?”

“Me and my sister used to play this game…” you trailed off before you stopped yourself. “Never mind, it’s foolish.”

“No I want to know,” he said. “What game?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “There wasn’t much of entertainment back in the countryside so us and some of her friends, we would go to a garden, and we would ask each other questions and point at a plant or whatever was there. You had to either answer the question truthfully or eat whatever the others pointed at.”

Benedict clapped his hands together and pushed himself off the wall, rolling his shoulders back as if he was getting ready for some sort of a sport.

“Let’s do it then.”

You blinked a couple of times. “What?”

“Come on. Unless of course you’d rather go back to that room to hear more about Byron’s feelings when he wrote She Walks in Beauty.”

You arched a brow. “Is that bitterness I hear?”

“I do not like his lines,” he said curtly. “Let’s play.”

“You cannot beat me at that game.”

“That’s not what I’m after,” he said. “Will you ask first or shall I?”

You heaved a deep sigh and walked among the counters, then ripped a tiny tomato and tossed it his way. He caught it and shrugged his shoulders.

“If I didn’t know you, I’d think you’re going easy on me.”

“It’s just the start,” you said. “Will you propose to Kitty Morris by the end of the season?”

His eyes widened and he shook his head fervently.

“What?” he asked. “No! Who told you that?”

“She hopes for it,” you said with a small grin and he scoffed.

“No thank you. I would never,” he tossed you back the tomato. “My turn. Why did you not come to the last ball?”

You wiped the tomato with the skirts of your dress and popped it into your mouth, shooting him a smile.

“Fair enough,” he commented and you looked around, then grabbed the small green pepper off the plant and threw it for him to catch.

“What did you do after you left the ballroom until the morning?”

He held up the pepper as if toasting you and popped it into his mouth, then started coughing.

“Jesus Christ…” he said as he swallowed it and hit his chest with his fist, grimacing. “My compliments to Lady Lowell’s gardener, this is extremely hot.”

“That one is going to be even worse,” you nodded at the red pepper and he heaved a sigh.

“Of course it will,” he muttered and ripped an asparagus before tossing it your way. “Are you still angry at me because I was late to the ball that one time?”

You bit off the asparagus and chewed on it, making him frown.

“Jesus, is there anything you don’t eat?”

“Told you that you couldn’t beat me at this,” you said. “Josie once made me eat a whole radish with the soil and everything on it on a dare, this is nothing.”

“Josie?”

“My sister,” you said. “Josephine. My turn.”

You reached out for the tiny red pepper this time, making him let out a groan that somehow made a spark of lightning shoot through you but you bit inside your cheek and tossed it at him.

“Here.”

“Please ask me something I can actually answer.”

You raised your brows. “Is there really nothing between you and Lottie or are you two just keeping it a secret?”

“There’s nothing going on between me and her,” he said, his voice completely clear as he shook his head in a determined manner. “We have never seen each other that way, nor will we ever. Charlie is one of the best people I’ve ever known in my life and whoever she marries will be the luckiest man in the world.”

“But not you?”

“Not me,” he said. “She’d tell you the same if you asked her. It’s just… we’re friends.”

You hummed and shrugged your shoulders.

“Very well,” you said. “Your turn.”

He looked around, then walked to rip a stem of grapes, causing you to scrunch up your face.

“Pick something else.”

His jaw dropped before he shot you a smug smile and tossed the stem your way.

“Not a chance, I pick this one.”

“Come on,” you whined as you turned the grapes in your hand. “I hate grapes, and these aren’t even ripe!”

“You know everything you say convinces me not to pick anything else, right?”

“I hate you so much.”

“Mm hm.”

“Fine,” you murmured, still glaring at the grapes in your hand before raising your glances to meet his eyes. “Go on. Ask me something.”

“What of your many suitors?”

“They’re annoying,” you said with a grimace, “What of them?”

“There’s no one among them that you like?” he asked. “Lord Shaw seems quite persistent.”

“Oh I would never marry Lord Shaw,” you brushed him off. “He’s too young.”

“He’s in his early thirties,” he reminded you. “He’s older than you.”

“Not enough,” you pointed out. “I have a clear idea of what I require in matrimony. My husband will be much older, in his fifties or sixties, and a widow if possible.”

He scoffed a laugh. “You’re supposed to answer truthfully.”

“I am answering truthfully,” you said and Benedict’s eyes flickered across your face as if trying to find a tell that you were dishonest.

“…Why?”

“Many reasons,” you said. “I don’t want to wait for years and years for him to die to gain my freedom, I’d like it to be fast. I do not even have to like him, I just need him to die fast.”

His jaw was slightly slack as he gawked at you. “You’re jesting.”

“No I’m not.”

“You’re willing to marry someone you don’t even like to…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “Do you even know what happens when you get married?”

“Do you?” you asked back. “Just because we’re talking about different aspects of marriage does not invalidate either one of them.”

“So you’re willing to go through that with someone who you don’t even like just because he might die faster?”

“I don’t know how to tell you this Benedict, but the majority of wives in the ton go through that with their husbands whom they don’t like,” you pointed out bluntly, the back of your eyes stinging before you blinked back the tears, surprised at yourself but thankfully managing to remain completely calm. “And it happens again and again, and I refuse to be subjected to that any longer than I must.”

His jaw clenched upon hearing the unpleasant truth and he swallowed thickly.

“It doesn’t have to be like that—”

“I can assure you it is not going to be so sad for me,” you cut him off. “When my future husband dies, I’ll have…” you trailed off. “I’ll have-”

“Solitude.”

“Solitude is not the threat you think it is for me,” you stated. “The way I see it, marriage is debtor’s prison. I will spend some time waiting for it to be over until I’m free, that’s all. Until I’ve paid the price I’m expected to pay.”

“And love?”

You let out a dry laugh. “Don’t you find it ironic that only artists have the luxury of looking for love, or believing in it for that matter?”

“Don’t give me that,” he said as if he was too impatient to argue with you on that. “What of your heart?”

“I told you,” you forced yourself to say as you shot him a bitter smile. “I don’t have one.”

“What of your desires?” he asked and with the worst timing possible, your dream from the night before flashed before your eyes, with him kissing you, and touching you, and—

“I don’t have those either,” you managed to lie through your teeth as you played with the grapes in your hand, wiping at the dust over them and he took a step towards you.

“That cannot be your plan for your future,” he insisted, breathing fast as if you were going to run away at any moment. “What if he doesn’t die fast? A lot of old people live long lives.”

“It’s the safest bet,” you pointed out. “It would still prove to be useful.”

“How?”

“Old husbands move slower,” you said as you rubbed at your wrist and shrugged your shoulders again. “I will have to be faster than him for when he tries to hit me.”

A stunned silence fell upon the greenhouse and you lifted your glances from your wrist to find him completely frozen in shock in his place.

“What?” you asked and he frowned as if the mere idea was so unthinkable that it confused him.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?”

You tossed a grape in the air and caught it again. “I will have to be faster than him for when he tries to—”

“No one will hit you.”

“Precisely,” you said. “I’m making sure of it. We’re talking about the same thing here, honestly.”

“No, even if…” he trailed off and for the first time since you had met, a darkness crossed his eyes, something dangerous, something that was more than enough to raise goosebumps on your arms even if you somehow knew that it was not directed at you. “If somebody so much as touches a hair on your head, I—”

“Wouldn’t be able to do a thing,” you finished his sentence for him. “No one would, you know how it goes. Once I’m married it’s over, there’s no one that can stop anything. Not my family, not the law, not the ton. So I’m going to protect myself because if I don’t do it, no one else will.”

He looked at a loss for words as he stared at you and you threw the grape stem aside as if your heart didn’t feel like it weighed a ton, then cleared your throat.

“I won by the way,” you told him, wiping your hands on your skirts. “I’m going back to the house before my aunt sends Queen’s guards after me.”

“Y/N—”

“Oh cheer up, will you?” you forced your voice to come out completely nonchalant as you opened the glass door. “For what it’s worth, I’m sure you will find love. Shouldn’t be that hard if you believe in that nonsense.”

You walked out of the greenhouse without so much as a glance back, leaving him there frozen. You took a deep breath, gritting your teeth and rubbed at your arms, the sudden chill that had nothing to do with the weather rushing through you.

“Pull yourself together,” you muttered to yourself and made your way back to the house, digging your fingernails into your palms in an attempt to focus on anything but the tears burning your eyes.

Chapter Text

Technically, you knew it was a bad idea to stay under the scorching sun for hours, working in your garden without a water bottle by your side or your hat on your head.

You knew that very well but in your defense, you hadn’t really noticed the time passing.

“Auntie, how much longer are you going to act like I’m about to say my last words?” you asked as she shushed you, tucking the corners of the heavy covers into the bed, almost trapping you there.

“I’m glad you find a near death experience amusing.”

“Near death exp—I stood up too fast and passed out for what, five seconds?”

Your maid wrung the cloth in ice cold water, then came to press it on your wrists, making you heave a sigh.

“Thank you Paula but it’s honestly not necessary-”

“Fainting is a serious issue that has a lot of people in its clutches Y/N,” your aunt said solemnly. “It’s no topic to be made light of.”

“I doubt it counts as fainting.”

“The doctor said it does,” she said and took another cloth to press it on your forehead, shaking her head. “Heat exhaustion, he said. We’re blessed that we didn’t lose you.”

“The doctor also said I would be alright in a couple of hours auntie,” you pointed out. “So before you call the priest here for my final confession—”

“Y/N!” she chided you, making you grin at her but before you could say anything, your uncle knocked on the doorframe as Teddy wheezed past him to throw himself into your arms.

“Teddy, careful dear,” your aunt said. “We don’t want to overexert your sister.”

He nodded shyly and looked up at you.

“Sorry. Are you better now?”

You pressed a kiss on his forehead and smiled at him.

“I’m absolutely fine,” you said. “I assure you. Were you worried?”

He chewed on his lip, nodding again as he played with your hair and you wrapped your arms around him.

“It was just too much sun, Teddy,” you said. “That’s it.”

“Do you need anything Clover?” your uncle asked and you shook your head.

“No I’m alright. Thank you uncle.”

“Howard,” your aunt said, putting her hands on her hips. “I think we should call the doctor again.”

“We should not,” you told her and your uncle repressed a chuckle.

“Well, considering you had a close encounter with Hades…”

“Not you too!”

“Who’s Hades?” Teddy mumbled and you grinned.

“Um, the doctor my sweet.”

“I took it upon me to tell your suitors you’re in no condition to accept any visits until further notice.”

Your head shot up and you cleared your throat.

“That’s a good idea, thank you,” you managed to say. “I still feel a bit faint to be honest.”

Your aunt gasped as Paula put the cloth in the water again, but you stopped her and winked at her, making her bite down a smile.

“See, I told you!” your aunt said. “Of course you cannot receive any suitors while you’re like this, and no attending balls until you’re in better health either, I will not hear it.”

“Oh no,” you deadpanned. “That’s so sad.”

“And no spending time in the garden either.”

“What?” you asked as your eyes widened. “Auntie!”

“And when it’s time, you will wear a hat and carry an umbrella with you,” she said, holding up a hand as you opened your mouth to argue. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I will tell the cook to change today’s menu, and get you as much fruit juice as possible.”

“But—” you started but she walked out of the room completely ignoring your protests. You leaned back with a sigh.

“She worries too much.”

“You know how she is when it comes to you and Teddy,” your uncle said and came to sit beside the bed. “Teddy, why don’t you let Paula take you to the kitchen? So that you can tell the cook to make that drink you like for you and Y/N.”

“That sounds like a good idea!” you said and Teddy shook his head, making you frown. “No?”

“No,” he muttered, still holding you tight and you exchanged glances with your uncle.

“Why not?” you asked. “You like chocolate milk. We can even put pieces of cookies into it the way you like.”

He shook his head again and frowned up at you.

“If you’re sick, I will stay here to protect you.”

You could swear your heart melted as a smile curled your lips, and you rubbed his back.

“And I’m sure you would do a wonderful job at that, but I’m not sick,” you said. “Do you remember how you scraped your knee the last summer and I was very worried but you were alright?”

He nodded.

“It’s just like that,” you said. “I will rest a little and I will be fine. But you know what would make me feel much better?”

“What?”

“Those figures you make for me from twigs.”

He gasped and sat up straight. “Really?”

“Yes,” you said. “Would you make one for me while I rest?”

He nodded fervently and kissed you on the cheek, then ran out of the room. Paula took a look at you.

“My lady, shall I keep an eye on him?”

“That would be wonderful, thank you,” you said and she walked out of the room. Your uncle gave you a smile and ruffled your hair, making you let out a small laugh.

“Are you sure you’re not dying?”

“Quite sure,” you said. “Do you think auntie will be alright though?”

“Not until she is convinced you rested enough,” your uncle said. “So, I wanted to ask you. I know I told your suitors you would not accept them at this time but do you want me to make any exceptions for any of them?”

You frowned. “Like who?”

“Like a certain artist if he visits?”

You rolled your eyes and leaned back in the bed, crossing your arms. “He’s not my suitor.”

“Do you wish him to be?”

You scoffed, making a face.

“I would never marry him,” you said. “It’s a good thing that he’s not courting me officially, saves both of us from wasting our time.”

He tilted his head. “Clover.”

“It’s just Lady Whistledown’s gossip.”

“Your aunt thinks you two have feelings for each other.”

“Benedict Bridgerton seems to have feelings for a lot of ladies in the ton, I wouldn’t assume it’s anything special for me.”

“And you?”

“I do have feelings for him,” you said, making him raise his brows. “Vexation is the first one that comes to mind. Ire too. While we’re at it, let’s also throw in some exasperation—”

“Alright,” he said with a chuckle and held up his hands in a mock of surrender. “And not an ounce of affection beneath all that?”

You pursed your lips, the sight of him at the greenhouse shooting through your mind. Even the thought was enough to make your heart beat faster and as much as you would have loved to lie to yourself—

No.

You couldn’t even entertain that idea.

Yes, perhaps you didn’t dislike his presence as much as you pretended to, and maybe your eyes had started searching for him in every outing lately but you couldn’t let that cloud your judgement.

He was attractive, there was no denying it, but that was all there was to this strange feeling.

“Clover?”

You snapped out of your thoughts and looked at him. “Huh?”

A smile curled his lips and he shook his head with a sigh.

“You know,” he said. “I find it quite ironic that you keep using the same approach with your suitors but are unable to see it for yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, my dear,” your uncle said, giving you a knowing look. “Silence is an answer too sometimes.”

You pulled back, swallowing thickly and he stood up.

“Do try to rest a little,” he said. “I’m sure you need it. And just see whether you will miss him until you see him again.”

You let out a breath as he walked out of the room and closed the door behind him, leaving you alone. You shook your head and pressed your palms over your eyes, slipping further into the covers.

“I had too much sun,” you muttered to yourself. “That’s all.”

After three days of complete rest, you were about to lose your mind. You really wanted to go and check your garden and you had almost managed to sneak out until your aunt caught you by the door and insisted that you kept resting in your room.

“It’s not as if there’s a lack of flowers there,” she had told you and even if you hated to admit, she was right.

Somehow.

Your suitors, after hearing of your so called sickness had all decided to send you flowers and now your room was filled with multiple bouquets of roses and tulips and forget-me-nots. Ironically you couldn’t even put a face on the name of the lord who sent you the forget-me-nots, but since your aunt had told you not to exert yourself, you weren’t even going to strain your mind about that.

Daphne and Charlotte had visited you earlier yesterday, and apparently Benedict had accompanied them but your uncle had told him you were in no condition to accept anyone except your lady friends.

You didn’t want to scream out loud when you had heard of him doing so, not at all.

You knew exactly what your uncle was doing. He was trying to see whether you would want to see Benedict after a couple of days of not talking to him, to prove to you that you would miss him more than you cared to admit. You couldn’t decide what was more annoying, the fact that your uncle was right or that you hadn’t been subtle at all when you told him you “didn’t mind” if Benedict decided to visit.

“Not to overexert you of course,” your aunt said as she walked to smell the newest bouquet of flowers in the vase. “But I was thinking tomorrow evening we could go see a play?”

“Anything to get me out of the house, yes,” you said almost too quickly. “And to repeat, I’m not overexerted. I’m completely alright auntie.”

“Thankfully,” she said and touched the roses. “Aren’t they beautiful? Who sent them?”

“Lord Brumley,” you said with a wave of hand. “What’s the play?”

“Taming of the Shrew,” she said. “You’ll like it I’m sure.”

You tilted your head at her, narrowing your eyes and she shot you a smile.

“What?” she said. “I said nothing.”

“Auntie—”

“My lady?” Paula knocked on the door. “Lord Thorne says Mr. Bridgerton is here if you wish to see him.”

You could swear your heart leaped to your throat as you sat up straight in bed.

“What?” you asked, your voice coming out a bit high pitched before you cleared your throat, frowning while your aunt suppressed her smile.

“That’s nice of him,” she commented and you nibbled on your lip, then fixed your gown.

“He may come here,” you managed to say before you turned to your aunt. “Auntie…”

“Paula stays right here,” she said and you nodded.

“Of course,” you said and she walked out of the room, greeting Benedict outside. Paula approached the nearest vase to make herself look busy, giving you as much privacy as she could considering the circumstances and you shot her a small smile, then turned your head when you heard the knock on the doorframe.

You couldn’t ignore the fluttering in your stomach if you tried, but it didn’t mean you wouldn’t try.

“Miss Y/N,” he said as he bowed and stepped into the room. It didn’t escape your attention that unlike your other suitors, he hadn’t brought you any flowers—

Not that he was your suitor, or that you wanted any flowers from him.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” you greeted him back as if your heart wasn’t pacing against your ribcage and he looked around the room, raising his brows.

“Roses and tulips,” he commented. “Your favorites.”

You repressed a small smile and shrugged your shoulders. “And surprisingly no Venus Flytraps.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled at you before he let out a breath, his soft gaze focused on you.

“How do you feel?” he asked. “Charlie says it was heat exhaustion?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “It was nothing.”

“I doubt it was nothing, she says you passed out.”

“For five seconds,” your reply came quick. “It doesn’t even count.”

“It sounds like it does.”

You rolled your eyes.

“A man of many talents, are you not?” you asked. “Benedict Bridgerton, the artist, eligible bachelor and now doctor.”

“Oh look at that, you’re back,” he teased back. “I was beginning to go through withdrawals after three days of no snark from you.”

“Not to worry, I spent those three days saving some for you,” you answered and his expression turned from amused to gentle.

“But are you certain you’re alright?” he asked. “Did the doctor say so?”

A warmth spread through your chest and you cleared your throat.

“I’m more than ready to be up and about and insult you in any kind of outing,” you deadpanned. “I can start now if you want. Beginning early and everything.”

He tilted his head and motioned at you. “Do your worst.”

“You seem quite tired and sleepless,” you noted. “Have you been getting enough inspiration lately?”

A surprised chuckle escaped from his lips, the pleasant sound making you bite back a smile.

“On another thought, I don’t want to know. Please spare me the details or the general idea.”

“Y/N—” he started but you widened your eyes and stole a look at Paula who was still in the room. He followed your gaze before turning to you and took a deep breath, then cleared his throat.

“Miss Y/N,” he corrected himself. “I uh…I’d better leave you to your rest.”

You could feel your stomach drop but you shrugged your shoulders. “I’m grateful for your visit, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“And I’m grateful that you’re alright,” he said and took a step to the door but then turned around.

“I almost forgot,” he said as he reached into the inner pocket of his waistcoat to pull out a folded paper, and placed it on your bedside. “Get well soon, Miss Y/N.”

He bowed and walked out of the room, making you frown and reach out to get the paper before you unfolded it with nimble fingers, a breath leaving your lips as soon as your eyes fell upon what was inside.

You would have recognized it anywhere.

He had painted you a small picture of Middlemist Red, your favorite flower. You blinked a couple of times, the warmth rushing through your face and you let a smile pull at your lips as you traced the brush strokes with your fingertips, nearly mesmerized.

He had brought you a flower after all, and he had managed to bring you your favorite.

You pushed the covers off of you and approached the painting of a garden hung on the wall before you carefully tucked the paper to the frame, then stepped back to look at it better.

“It’s very beautiful my lady,” Paula said and you turned to her, barely aware of the smile lighting up your face.

“Yes,” you managed to say. “Yes, it really is.”

Thankfully your aunt was finally convinced that you weren’t going to drop dead all of a sudden so this play -though it was not your favorite- was going to be a nice distraction from the last couple of days. Charlotte had found you the minute you stepped foot into the building and whisked you away from your aunt who already seemed eager to talk to Lady Danbury.

“…So then Mr. Fairfax asked me to see him in the garden after the dance.”

Your eyes widened. “Lottie, please tell me you said no.”

“Of course I said no!” she said quickly. “My mama would lose her mind if I were ever alone with a man. Not that she had much to worry about, because I happened to mention Mr. Fairfax’s request to Benedict and he looked very angry for some reason, then nearly dragged Mr. Fairfax out of the ballroom!”

Your heart skipped a beat but you sipped your drink just so that you could act normal.

“Good,” you commented and Lottie tilted her head to the side.

“What do you think Mr. Fairfax wanted to talk to me about in the garden?”

You heaved a sigh, Charlotte was too sweet for this world.

“I have no idea but I doubt it was anything good,” you said and looked around, trying to distract her. “It’s very beautiful here, don’t you think?”

“Oh yes!” she said. “Is this the first time you’re here?”

“Mm hm. You?”

She shook her head. “I’ve been here a couple of times, they hold wonderful plays here. Not that anything they put on stage can beat the rooftop, but…”

“There’s a rooftop here?”

“Oh my God yes!” she said, reaching out to hold your arm. “You simply must see it! Perhaps we can go up there after the play and watch the stars—I swear, it’s the best view in London.”

“You’re raising my expectations, I hope you know that,” you said with a smile but before she could say anything else, your aunt approached you.

“Miss Harlowe,” she said. “Do you mind if I borrow my niece for a moment?”

“No of course not,” she said and your aunt linked her arm with yours, and slowly led you away from her.

“It’s a shame our seats are so away from each other,” you said, “I’d quite like Lottie’s commentary on the play.”

“Clover my dear,” your aunt said. “I was wondering, what do you think of Lord Shaw?”

You pulled your brows together. “Uh…I don’t think of him,” you said. “Why?”

“I just talked to him,” she said. “He wants to ask your uncle for your hand in marriage.”

That was enough to make you stop dead in your tracks, your heart dropping down to your stomach. You could feel the fear filling you and you tried to find your voice that seemed to have disappeared all of a sudden.

“Auntie…”

“Obviously the decision is all yours dearest, and if—no?” she asked as you shook your head fervently, breathing hard.

“I don’t,” you swallowed thickly. “I don’t want him. I don’t want him as a husband.”

“Alright, then your uncle will turn him down in your behalf.”

Fixing your breathing felt nearly impossible. “Will he?”

She looked at you with a soft look on her face and rubbed at your arm.

“My dearest, we would never, ever force you to marry somebody you don’t wish to,” she asked. “I assumed you did not like him, but I wanted to ask you to be sure.”

“I’m sure,” you said, fear still keeping you tight in its cold clutch. “No I don’t—I don’t want to marry him.”

“Then you will not marry him,” she assured you as they announced that the play was about to start. Your aunt pulled you to your seat and out of the corner of your eye, you could see Benedict walking into the theatre with Colin to sit beside Charlotte but you were too lost in your thoughts to even turn your head.

If the proposals had started coming…

It wasn’t that you didn’t know it would happen when you debuted. After all, your uncle was very wealthy and your dowry was huge, so it was no wonder you would receive proposals but you hadn’t really stopped to think about the actual possibility of marriage this soon.

It was alright. It was going to be alright, you weren’t going to get married to someone you didn’t want, and you were going to find someone that fit your criteria, and—

And then you would be experiencing every aspect of marriage.

Where had the air disappear in this damn place?

You took a look at the stage to see the actors and actresses taking their places and you forced yourself to inhale just so that you could get some air into your lungs. You gritted your teeth, then touched your aunt’s hand.

Charlotte was sitting far away from you and your aunt didn’t have her glasses on.

“Auntie, I think Charlotte is still outside,” you said. “I just remembered I needed to tell her something, I’ll be right back.”

“But Clover, the play has already started.”

“I’ll be right back,” you said and stood up from your seat, painfully aware of Benedict’s gaze on you but you walked out of the theatre into the hallway without so much as a glance back. You rubbed at your wrist, your heart still beating in your ears.

You didn’t want to be seen by anyone, and you desperately needed somewhere you could pull yourself together—

The rooftop.

You gathered up your skirts to lift them a little, then rushed to the stairs to ascend them until you reached the very top, and pushed open the door to step outside, the cool weather hitting your burning face. You closed your eyes for a moment, then opened them and approached the edge, a breath of awe leaving your lips.

Charlotte was right, the view was gorgeous.

You had to have stared at the view of the city for almost a minute before the sound of the door opening made you turn your head to look over your shoulder, that familiar warmth making its way through the icy cold of the fear in your chest.

“Let me guess,” Benedict said, “You hate Shakespeare as well?”

You pressed your lips together, then turned your gaze to the view again.

“I like some of his plays,” you said. “And before you ask, Romeo and Juliet is not among them, no.”

“That’s shocking.”

“How did you know where I was?”

“Charlie assumed you couldn’t wait to see the rooftop,” he stated and you nodded.

“I guess that’s true in a way,” you commented before you fixed your skirts, then sat down on the ground. Benedict approached you and hesitated for a moment.

“May I?”

“Go ahead, I’m not the owner of the building.”

He shot you that crooked grin of his before he sat beside you.

“Are you alright?”

You bit inside your cheek and stole a look at him, then nodded.

“Yes,” you said, making sure to keep your expression flat. “I suppose I needed some fresh air after being cooped up in the house for days.”

“Is that the only reason you’re here?”

No.

No, of course it was not.

The reason was that you couldn’t even imagine being married to someone without feeling as if all the air was pulled out of your lungs, but you couldn’t exactly say that. You rubbed at your wrist as you looked up at the sky so that you could avoid looking at him, then laid on your back, curling an arm behind your head. The glimmering stars were so beautiful in the dark sky that for a moment you wanted to tell him to look up, but all his attention seemed to be on you.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice soft. “What is it?”

You rolled your eyes.

“If you’re going to keep smothering me with your questions, I may reconsider my decision about letting you stay.”

“I thought you said you weren’t the owner of the building.”

“I can pretend otherwise if need be,” you said. “Your presence is much more enjoyable if it’s not accompanied by questions.”

He tilted his head. “I thought you hated my presence.”

“You have your moments,” you pointed out. “Very rare moments, and it seems that right now is not one of them.”

He shot you a roguish smirk. “I’m still taking that as a good sign.”

“You do that quite a lot,” you remarked before you raised a hand to trail it in the air, following the shape of the stars. “It’d be one less thing to worry about if I were dead, I tell you. I wouldn’t have to deal with suitors.”

He pulled his brows together. “Yes because you’d be dead.”

“Yet here I am, constantly subjected to suitors and their nonsense,” you muttered and sat up. “Go on then.”

He looked a bit confused. “Hm?”

“You’re here, so you might as well make your presence useful,” you said. “Entertain me.”

His smile was too irresistible, and that was why you refused to look his way but you hadn’t expected him to lean back on his palms and take a look at the sky.

“As my lady wishes. Do you know what that constellation is?” he asked, pointing at a couple of stars and you followed his line of sight, then shook your head.

“No,” you said. “What is it?”

“Andromeda.”

“Judging by my limited knowledge of mythology, I’m going to go on a limb and say Zeus had something to do with that.”

He let out a chuckle. “Not really.”

“No?”

“No,” he said, “Andromeda was this… beautiful princess of Aethiopia. She was so beautiful that her mother Cassiopeia started saying she was more beautiful than Nereids, Poseidon’s daughters.”

You hissed in a breath. “Hubris. Bad idea in Greek mythology.”

“Very bad idea,” he nodded. “As you can tell, Poseidon doesn’t take that kindly.”

“Of course not.”

“So he sent a sea monster to ravage their coasts to punish the king and the queen for their hubris,” Benedict said. “The king asked his oracle for a solution, and the oracle told him he had to sacrifice Andromeda, that there was no other way.”

You made a face. “I don’t like this story.”

Benedict grinned. “But,” he said. “As fate would have it, when they tied Andromeda to a rock for the sea monster to take her, Perseus happened to be flying over there on his winged sandals, having just slain Medusa. He saw Andromeda, and…”

“Ugh,” you groaned. “Let me guess, he fell in love with her?”

“He fell in love with her,” he nodded. “So he killed the monster, saved Andromeda and married her.”

“Shocking.”

“And after her death, Athena placed Andromeda into the sky as a star with her whole family,” Benedict said, pointing at the star. “Right there.”

You bit down on a smile and clicked your tongue.

“Interesting,” you commented. “You know all myths by heart?”

He nodded his head. “Most of them,” he said. “You’re not the only one with a specific interest.”

“Here I thought the only thing you could offer was your good looks.”

That mischievous smile curled his lips. “I wasn’t aware you found me good looking, Miss Y/N.”

You shot him a glare but that did nothing to wipe that smile off his face.

“Kitty Morris is still inside, I suggest you go to her if you’re in need of compliments,” you said. “Or Madame Delacroix. Or any of your dalliances, really. I’m sure there’s quite the queue.”

“Are all your compliments instantly followed by biting remarks?”

“I couldn’t say, I’m not in the habit of giving people compliments.”

He chuckled, the pleasant sound making your heart skip a beat but you bit on your lip.

“That being said…” you said after a small hesitation. “Thank you. For the—for the flower, earlier. Middlemist Red.”

He looked almost abashed. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“I loved it,” you said, nervousness hitting you out of nowhere. “And I will keep it.”

He turned his glances to you. “Will you?”

“Well, yes,” you said. “When you unavoidably become a famous artist, I will either sell it to get rich or keep it to use it as an object for boosting and elevating my position among the ton. I haven’t decided yet.”

He stared at you before he scoffed a laugh, his blue eyes glimmering in delight even under the moonlight, and he ran a hand through his black hair in almost a nervous manner, messing it up in such a lovely way that you had to remind yourself not to reach out to touch it to see if it was as soft as it looked.

“Thank you,” he ended up saying. “It means more than you know, coming from you.”

You offered him a small smile, playing with the silk skirts of your dress just so that you could do something with your hands.

“Why are you here?” he asked after a couple of seconds of silence. “Really?”

You shrugged your shoulders and fixed your skirts.

“I told you,” you said nonchalantly. “I was in need of some fresh air. Why are you here?”  

A silence fell upon him only for a moment before he took a deep breath.

“Can’t you tell?” he asked, and as if on cue, your heart started pacing in your chest. Your eyes shot up to his blue gaze, your breath getting caught in your throat and all you could do was stare at him for a moment.

The warmth of hope that had shot through your whole system was so sudden that it made your head spin, and it would’ve been intoxicating if it weren’t for—

If it weren’t for the familiar fear turning it into ice shards in your veins.

You pulled back slightly, your eyes burning as you dug your fingernails into your palms before you subtly twisted your wrist and clenched your jaw, painfully aware of the hostile glare taking over the happy light that was in your eyes a moment ago, and judging by his expression, so was he.

“Y/N—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off through clenched teeth and shook your head. “I wouldn’t even entertain that thought if I were you.”

He swallowed thickly, his eyes darting over your face as if he was trying to read your mind. “Why not?”

You shook your head again, fear slowly poisoning your system even if you were trying your hardest to remain calm.

“I know you artists like to be tormented, but trust me,” you said as you stood up, with him following you suit. “What you are implying would result in more of a torment than you could take.”

“It doesn’t have to be—”

“Perhaps it does not but it would be,” you insisted, the burning in your eyes getting even worse but you quickly blinked back the tears. “I’d make sure of that.”

He let out a breath, his gaze locked in yours and he took a step towards you but you stepped back as soon as he did, glaring up at him.

“Don’t make me rip your heart out Benedict,” you forced the words through your teeth, trying your hardest to ignore the pain in your chest. “I will if I have to, so please do not make me.”

The hurt in his eyes was so clear that you could feel the lump growing bigger and bigger in your throat and you walked past him, desperate to get away from his sight before he could see the tears blurring your vision. You pushed open the door and made your way down the stairs before you reached the bottom of them and turned a corner to lean back to the wall, a sob climbing up your chest. You pressed your palms to your eyes as if that could help you with tears and tried to fix your shaky breathing.

It was the right thing to do. You couldn’t even—

You wouldn’t even entertain the thought.

You wiped at your eyes, trying to pull yourself together.

“You’re alright,” you muttered, pushing yourself off the wall. “You’re alright, don’t be foolish.”

You took a shaky breath, fixed your dress, then threw your shoulders back and made your way back to the auditorium.

Chapter Text

The following week after that conversation at the rooftop was actual torment for you.

You had tried everything to divert your attention elsewhere, but for the first time in your life, nothing seemed to work. Even while tending to your garden, that night refused to leave your mind, as if your mind had sworn to make you remember it over and over again.

If your sister were here she would’ve said you were heartbroken, but even the thought was absurd.

You weren’t the type of person who got heartbroken.

Even if you were -which you weren’t- one simple glance at Lady Whistledown’s lines throughout the week would be enough to snap you out of it. You had managed to avoid balls, pretending you were still in a delicate condition after the heat exhaustion incident, but Benedict on the other hand had been quite busy as far as you could tell. Day after day, Lady Whistledown wrote how he only stayed at the balls he attended for less than an hour and spent the rest of the nights somewhere else, returning home only around dawn, looking quite disheveled. It had to have been bad because the latest Whistledown issue had mentioned his brother Anthony pulling him aside just when he was about to leave the last ball for a short argument which he had walked away from.

Anyway. It wasn’t like you were interested in his whereabouts.

“My lady, are you sure…?” the cook trailed off while Teddy giggled happily, sitting on the counter and covered in flour from head to toe, and you winked at him before turning to the cook.

“You have no reason to worry Mrs. Booth,” you said. “We will not burn the house down.”

Mrs. Booth did not look relieved at all, but she chose not to comment on it and instead walked over to the other side of the kitchen to check on the soup for tonight’s dinner. You turned to Teddy and put your hands on your hips, sticking your nose up in the air.

“Now,” you said. “Are you ready for this incredibly important task?”

“I am!” Teddy said, dangling his legs off the counter, excitement almost radiating off of him. You tilted your head.

“Are you sure? It’s quite the responsibility, you know.”

“Yes!” he said, jumping in his spot and you pointed at the other side of the counter.

“Over there,” you said. “We have our cookie dough. And of course we must have a theme for our cookies, it goes without saying.”

“Of course!”

“You are to decide what our theme will be and help me shape them.”

Teddy had such a concentrated look on his face that one simple observer would think he was to decide the fate of the country and you repressed a laugh, waiting for him to decide. He held his breath as the idea hit him, his whole face lighting up.

“A garden!” he said. “With people in it!”

You gasped. “That’s such a perfect idea Teddy!”

“And—and—” he said, flailing his arms. “We will have trees and flowers and people—you can shape the flowers and I can shape the trees and people!”

“That sounds like a good deal,” you said as you grabbed the cookie dough and gave him the half of it before you took a small amount of it out of your half, and started making a small flower. Teddy was humming a song to himself, his tongue sticking out, his whole concentration on the stick figure he was making from the cookie dough and you leaned over to press a kiss into his hair, making him let out a whine.

“I love you too but I’m working!” he said in a serious manner and you let out a laugh, then held up your hands, gesturing surrender.

“Alright, alright. Sorry.”

“You can kiss me afterwards, not now though. This is very important.”

“Got it,” you said, still smiling as you got back to making flowers from the cookie dough and he stole a look at you, then shifted in his spot.

“I have a question."

“Yes?”

“What does propose mean?”

Your head shot up from the dough. “Hm?”

“I heard auntie and uncle talking about a lord wanting to propose to you.”

You cleared your throat and put aside the flower to start on another one.

“Propose means someone asks someone to marry them.”

Teddy held his breath, shaking his head fervently. “But you’re not going to marry someone are you?” he asked. “You can’t!”

You pulled your brows together. “Why not?”

“Because then you’d leave!” Teddy said, tears already rushing to his eyes and you heaved a sigh, then wrapped your arms around him to pull him into a hug.

“I’d never leave you,” you said, placing a kiss on top of his head. “I promise. Even if I married someone, which I will not anytime soon.”

“But people leave when they marry.”

You frowned, pulling back to look at him better. “Who told you that?”

“No one,” he mumbled with a shrug of his shoulders. “But Josie isn’t here and she’s married. You always say she is our sister but I don’t even remember her.”

You could swear your chest was hurting but you managed to smile at him.

“Teddy, Josie isn’t here because she had to leave,” you said with a sigh. “One day I will tell you why, alright? But for now, the only thing you need to know is that she loves you and misses you so much. I read you her letters, she always asks about you, remember?”

Teddy nodded, still pouting.

“But you won’t marry anyone?”

“Not anytime soon,” you said. “And regardless of whether I get married or not, I will never leave you. I swear to you.”

He lifted his head and gave you a big smile, then hugged you tight and pulled back.

“Do you think this cookie man looks nice?” he asked, holding up the cookie and you smiled, then nodded your head.

“Yeah,” you said. “It looks perfect.”

One of the many bad things about being a debutante was that there were only so many balls you could avoid. Seeing that you would have to attend one eventually, you figured you could do it tonight and get it over with.

Besides, according to Lady Whistledown Benedict barely spent any time at the balls nowadays so you were going to be just fine.

“So how did Lord Shaw take it?” you asked your aunt as you stepped out of the carriage when it stopped by the garden, the music of the ballroom reaching there already. Your aunt linked her arm with yours and you both started walking through the garden.

“Well, apparently he was quite sad about it,” she said. “Your uncle was very clear though, he said you two would not make a suitable couple in matrimony.”

You squeezed her hand in yours while you two climbed the marble stairs. “Thank you.”

“Of course!” she said. “I know you cannot stand him.”

“It’s not that,” you muttered. “It’s just… He does not fit my criteria.”

Your aunt hummed. “Are you sure it’s not also because you have affections for someone else?”

“I don’t have any affections for anyone,” you said way too fast and your aunt stopped when you two reached the entrance of the ballroom.

“Whatever you say Clover,” she said. “Just promise me something?”

“Of course.”

“Try to have fun,” she said and you heaved a dramatic sigh.

“I’ll try.”

“Good,” she said. “Now, I can see Lady Bridgerton and Lady Danbury, if you’ll excuse me.”

She made her way to them and you nodded at them with a small smile, then turned your head when you heard your name being called.

Oh God damn it.

Benedict looked as frozen as you were unlike Charlotte who seemed incredibly cheerful as usual, waving at you. You swallowed thickly and looked around, considering leaving the ballroom for a second but you knew you couldn’t do that to Charlotte, so you made your way to them.

“Good evening,” you said curtly, making sure to keep your gaze only on Charlotte who squealed, rocking on the balls of her feet.

“Oh finally you’re here!” she said. “I was beginning to think you were going to avoid balls forever.”

“I’m not that lucky, it seems.”

“Benedict was just asking about y—” she stopped talking as Benedict elbowed her and she rolled her eyes while Benedict cleared his throat.

“Miss Y/N.”

“Mr. Bridgerton,” you greeted him back and Charlotte looked between you two, then put her hands on her hips.

“Well,” she said. “Anthony looks annoyed yet again, so I’d better go and ask what that is about.”

“What?” Benedict asked as your eyes widened and Charlotte shrugged her shoulders.

“I’m curious about the reason so I must go.”

“Lottie—”

“Charlie—”

“No to both of you, I will see you later!” Charlotte said and walked away from you in a haste, making you shake your head.

“Not very subtle, that one.”

“She has many strong suits, subtlety has never been one,” Benedict commented and took a deep breath, then shot you a crooked grin. “Hello again.”

You raised your brows. “You know we don’t have to do that, right?”

“Do what?”

“Have a conversation,” you said and he took a deep breath.

“I was actually hoping for it.”

“You were hoping for—Jesus Christ, no,” you were distracted mid-sentence as soon as you saw Lord Shaw’s eyes stopping on you, and he fixed his waistcoat before he started to approach you.

“No to having a conversation?”

“No to the universe having a grudge against me for some reason,” you said through your teeth and Benedict followed your line of sight, then turned to you and offered you his hand.

“A dance, my lady?”

You pulled your brows together. “I’m sorry, what?”

“It’s a ballroom,” he said as the music started. “People tend to dance at balls, in case it has escaped your notice.”

You stole a look at Lord Shaw coming closer and let out a breath, then placed your hand in his.

It was like a lightning. As soon as your skin touched his, you could swear sparks ran through you, that familiar warmth engulfing your hand and judging by how his hand twitched over yours, you could tell he felt the same. He hesitated for a moment, letting out a breath, then led you to the dancefloor with the other couples. For a moment you feared everyone else in the ballroom could hear your heartbeat because of how deafening it was in your ears as soon as he had put his hand on the small of your back, but you tried to repress the excitement and took a step towards him as the dance required.

“I appreciate your help,” you said after a moment and he smiled softly.

“I was going to ask you for a dance anyway,” he said, his smile widening at the apparent confusion on your face. “So, did Lord Shaw bore you that much?”

You rolled your eyes. “Worse.”

“Worse?”

“He proposed.”

Benedict’s whole body froze mid-dance and you shot him a warning glare, raising his hand above your head to twirl yourself as if he was the one still leading.

“Did they not teach you how to dance? Or can you only put up a decent performance in bed—”

“What did you answer?” he cut you off and you scoffed.

“I said no, obviously,” you said. “I told you. He does not fit my criteria.”

His eyes flickered over your face. “Can we-"

“That was not an invitation to talk of that now,” you said. “It has been a nice evening so far, I don’t wish to ruin it.”

“But we must talk of it.”

“Not really,” you said, those sparks hitting you with their full force when his fingertips brushed over your wrist. “What did you want to have a conversation about earlier?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “The rooftop.”

Your breath got caught in your throat and you stole a look at him before averting your gaze to the other dancing couples.

“I don’t think that we should.”

“We should-"

“We can just pretend it did not take place,” you managed to say and he let out a dry chuckle.

“I cannot.”

“Why not?”

“You know why.”

Your throat tightened as you let him lead the dance, barely aware of your own movements as if you were in a haze. You knew there were couples all around you but somehow it felt like you two were the only people in that ballroom, like he was the one person whose presence mattered.

Especially when he was looking at you like that.

“Talking of it will not change a thing,” you forced yourself to say. “I told you; you mustn’t even think of it. I will break your heart terribly—”

“Alright.”

You blinked a couple of times, gawking at him.

“What?” you asked, “What do you mean, alright?”

He pulled you closer the moment the note of the music changed, signaling the slow end of the tune and he grabbed you by the waist to lift you up as the dance required, taking your breath away. You grasped at his broad shoulders, your heart leaping to your throat and he gently put you down, your hands still on his shoulders. His pleasant scent filled your lungs and you swallowed thickly, your eyes still locked in his.

“You said you would torment me,” he said, his voice low as the music came to a stop. “So be it. Torment me if you wish to.”

He bowed his head and walked away from you, leaving you there completely dumbfounded. It felt as if the whole room was spinning as you watched him walk out of the ballroom -probably to the garden- and you looked around to see whether your aunt would notice your absence, but she was nowhere to be found, neither were any of her friends. You licked your lips, then walked out of the ballroom as well, the cool air hitting your burning face as soon as you stepped outside. You pressed the back of your hands on your cheeks and checked whether anyone was around, but it seemed safe enough.

It was considerably a small garden, at least not as big as the last ball’s so it took you only five minutes to find him. He was at the far end of the garden, leaning back to the wall of the gazebo, exhaling the smoke of the cigarette in his hand into air. Your heart skipped a beat but you refused to let it intimidate you, so instead you passed by the begonias and stomped over to him, your brows pulled into a frown.

“Are you insane?” you asked, making him turn his head and he pushed himself off the wall.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“Why would you say such a thing?” you insisted. “You long for heartbreak, is that it? You could not find a lady within the ton to break your heart for some sort of inspiration for your art, that’s why you keep saying these things to me—”

“Is that what you think?” he cut you off and let out a breath. “Come on now.”

“Then what is it?”

“Do you really want to hear it?” he asked you. “Because I think if I say it out loud, you’re going to run away as fast as you can.”

You scoffed a bitter chuckle. “As always, you put too much importance in your words’ impact on me.”

“Is that right?” he said, looking you in the eye. “Why are you here then?”

You blinked a couple of times. “I…I don’t have to explain my actions to you.”

“Why are you here?” he asked again, his voice on edge and you gritted your teeth, then stuck your nose in the air.

“I cannot have you hope for something impossible,” you managed to say. “You must cast that thought out of your mind—”

“You don’t think I tried?” he cut you off, and shook his head. “What on earth do you think I’ve been trying to do since I met you? It’s not working like it’s supposed to.”

You let out a dry laugh, the familiar bitterness that tasted terribly like jealousy reaching your throat.

“Right,” you said. “Spare me those lies, will you? I’m not as clueless as others in that ballroom. Whatever you were doing was done for your own pleasure, it had nothing to do with me.”

“You—”

“Nothing could ever happen between us no matter how much you may hope for it.” you cut him off and he stared at you, a flash of pain crossing his handsome face.

“It’s just me then?” he managed to ask and you pulled back slightly.

“Pardon?”

“It’s just me who feels this fire,” he said, taking a step towards you, his gaze pining you to your spot. “It’s just me who cannot cast you out of my mind, it’s just me who is in lo—”

“Don’t,” you said, the warning word like poisoned honey on your tongue, half sweet and half painful. “Don’t say it.”

“Why not?”

Because I don’t believe it.

You gritted your teeth, your jaw set firm in determination. “I do not wish to hear it.”

A soft smile curled his lips.

“Alright,” he said after a beat. “Then tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me you feel nothing for me,” he said. “Tell me it’s just me who feels this, and I swear on my honor I will never bother you again.”

It was supposed to be easy.

The whole ton could say lots of things about you, but no one could say you weren’t an expert on keeping your emotions under control. That required you to come up with lies whenever you needed to, but somehow you couldn’t will the words out of your mouth, they all got stuck in that lump that was growing bigger and bigger in your throat.

Your uncle was right, unfortunately.

Silence was enough of an answer sometimes.

“You—I—” you stammered, averting your eyes for a moment. “That has nothing to do with the discussion right now.”

He stared at you for a moment, that light in his gaze growing soft before he took a deep breath, looking down at the cigarette between his fingers.

“Y/N,” he said. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You either go back to the ballroom or—”

“What exactly makes you think you can tell me what to do?” you interrupted him, narrowing your eyes into a glare and he repressed a smile, then shook his head.

“I’m not telling you what to do, I’m telling you what I am going to do,” he said. “You either go back to the ballroom, or I will kiss you. You have time until this cigarette is finished, so think carefully.”

That…

No.

No that was a bluff. It just had to be, of course he was not going to kiss you. Being under the delusion of infatuation and fooling himself into believing he was in love in order to experience heartbreak was one thing, but him actually kissing you was another.

Deep down he didn’t want or love you. He simply could not, even if he tried.

By some miracle, you managed to find your voice even though you felt as if excitement had already taken over you. “Am I supposed to be intimidated?”

He shook his head and took a drag of the cigarette.

“Not at all,” he said. “I’m just telling you what is going to happen.”

“You do remember I have a knife for times like these, do you not?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m willing to take my chances.”

You needed to leave. Any rational woman would leave immediately so as to protect their reputation, but somehow all your logic that would normally scream at you was drowned by the sound of your heart beating in your ears.

You were never the one to back away from a challenge after all, and the fire that was roaring through your veins was too powerful for you to even consider fighting against it. It was as if you were in a dream, and you were nearly trembling with anticipation, your whole body refusing to just take the step to go back to the ballroom.

It was just going to be one time.

You would only kiss him once, you would only taste that desire that had been haunting your dreams, tantalizing you every single night to wake you up gasping only once, and then—

Then you were going to go back to your original strategy. You were going to forget about him and this night, and find yourself a very old husband as you had planned and move on with your life.

Just once.

Just once couldn’t hurt.

You felt yourself take a step towards him before you pulled the cigarette from his lips to flick it to the ground, as if daring him to make his move. The fire in his eyes was so intense that for a moment you felt as if your whole face was burning, but you raised your brows, looking up at him before you scoffed a laugh.

“Just as I thought,” you said and turned around to leave, but felt him grab your upper arm to spin you around, drawing a gasp from you as your gaze snapped up to his.

“You, my poisonous flower,” his voice was a low murmur, making your heart skip a beat and he ran his knuckles over your burning cheekbone. “You will be the end of me.”

With that, his lips claimed yours.

Oh.

This was the infamous euphoria that every artist chased through centuries.

You could swear you felt yourself melt in his arms as he pressed you back to the wall of the gazebo, his hand cradling the back of your head, messing up your perfectly coiffed updo your maid had spent almost half an hour on but you couldn’t find it in you to care about it.

You couldn’t find it in you to care about anything else but him and his touch as long as he kept kissing you like this.

Desire spread through you like wildfire as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, blindly chasing that feeling which made you feel like you were falling off a cliff, your heart pacing in your chest, your whole body taken by this newfound high—

And then someone gasped.

It was as if you had been splashed with ice cold water. Benedict pulled back immediately and you turned your head but as soon as you saw who it was –who they were— you felt your stomach drop.

Lady Featherington’s mouth was open in shock, her eyes wide while your aunt looked almost frozen in her spot. Lady Bridgerton was covering her mouth, obviously as shocked as the rest of them and Lady Danbury let out a breath, shaking her head.

You could feel the fear smothering every single trace of happiness that was rushing through your system just a moment ago and you swallowed thickly, digging your fingernails into your palm while Benedict took a step sideways in your direction, almost shielding you from their gaze.

Through the fog of absolute fear, your mind managed to notice that tiny detail. You could claim he had no understanding of responsibility, that he was one of the most privileged men in the ton who never thought or cared about consequences, but it didn’t change one single fact:

Benedict Bridgerton; the unbridled philanderer, the spoiled second-son and free-spirited artist, had quite literally placed himself between you and the ton’s scrutiny.

Lady Featherington was the first to break the silence.

“A scandal!”

“Benedict…” Lady Bridgerton whispered and you shook your head, looking at your aunt while you blinked back the tears.

“I knew Lady Whistledown was right!” Lady Featherington said. “I knew it!”

“I’m sure there is an explanation,” Lady Danbury said through her teeth, glaring at Benedict, “Is there not?”

“What explanation?” Lady Featherington said with a small laugh. “Did you not see what I saw?”

“What on earth do you think you are doing?” your aunt managed to ask in a whisper as if she was as shocked as you were, and you tried to gulp down the lump in your throat, keeping silent.

“This is unacceptable,” Lady Featherington said and motioned at you two. “Unchaperoned and—and— doing that!”

Air.

You needed air but somehow, you couldn’t seem to get enough of it into your lungs.

“You should be ashamed of yourselves,” Lady Featherington continued as Benedict stole a look at you, his hand curtly brushing over yours as if he wanted to remind you he was there before he turned to them. “This is no position to be found! Y/N, your reputation will be ruined when—”

“That is not going to happen, Lady Featherington,” Benedict cut her off, his voice completely calm and collected, the opposite of the mind-numbing fear that was nearly smothering you at the moment.  

Lady Danbury raised her brows. “No?"

Benedict shook his head.

“Not at all,” he said, his words piercing through the chaos in your mind. “We’re going to get married.”

Chapter Text

“Are you insane?!”

Well.

That was a very valid question after tonight.

Benedict let out a breath and sat down on the sofa across from Anthony’s desk, grabbing a glass and pouring whiskey into it.

“Benedict,” Anthony said, his voice already on edge. “If this is a jest—”

“It’s not a jest,” he said before taking a huge sip of his drink. “It’s the truth.”

Anthony shook his head, pacing in the room.

“You were caught unchaperoned with her—doing what, exactly?”

Benedict pursed his lips, the faint taste of her still lingering there, her intoxicating scent tickling his nose. Even the flash of what happened just an hour ago was enough to make his head spin, and this adrenaline rush didn’t seem like it would go away anytime soon.

His silence served enough of an answer for Anthony because he gawked at him for a moment.

“…Outside?!”

“I didn’t plan this, as shocking as it may sound.”

“Did she?”

Benedict’s gaze sharpened. “Anthony.”

“It’s a rational question.”

“It’s an accusation,” he said tersely. “And I will not hear any of that.”

Anthony ran a hand over his face and leaned back to his desk.

“I accept that she’s very beautiful but what you’ve done was a huge mistake, Ben.”

Benedict frowned. “If you’re suggesting I should have left her to those vultures—”

“That’s not what I’m saying!” Anthony insisted. “Of course you have to be married now, you’re honor bound to her! You shouldn’t have been alone with her in the first place!”

No.

It wasn’t just his honor. He knew exactly what it was, and he had been aware of it for some time now, and this whole night—

Even in the aftermath, even in this situation that was going to change both their lives, he didn’t feel the slightest trace of regret or anything of the sort. His whole being was so consumed by his love for her that he didn’t think he could feel anything else even if he tried.

The circumstances hadn’t been ideal, he had to admit, and yet…

“She’s not a modiste, nor is she a habitue of those so called art parties you like to attend.”

Benedict’s frown deepened. “How did you...?”

Anthony shot him a knowing look. “You’re hardly subtle about your past time activities, brother,” he said. “But she’s a member of the ton, a debutante with one of the richest men in the ton as her uncle, and you thought you could risk both your reputations for a tumble in the dark—”

“That’s not what that was about,” Benedict cut him off and shook his head. “I wouldn’t put her in danger like that, ever.”

A silence fell upon them and Anthony took a deep breath.

“Benedict I saw the painting.”

Benedict’s eyes shot to his as he swallowed thickly. “And you still question me about my motives?”

“You wouldn’t be the first artist who was drawn to his muse on a physical level.”

Benedict let out a chuckle. “It’s not just that.”

“Then?”

“I’m in love.”

Anthony rolled his eyes. “You’re in lust as usual, just another—”

“I’m in love,” Benedict repeated, his voice so decisive that Anthony turned to look at him better as if trying to see whether he was genuine but then pulled back slightly when a look of realization dawned on his face.

“…Fuck.”

Benedict raised his glass in a mock of toast. “It’s not lethal or contagious Anthony, you don’t have to look that terrified.”

“You’re in love.”

“Yes.”

“How do you know it’s love and not just desire?”

Benedict leaned back on the sofa, deep in thought.

“The very thought of her consumes my whole being, and no matter who I am with, no matter who I touch, no one can even come close to the euphoria of spending a couple of seconds in her presence,” he muttered. “She is in my dreams when I’m asleep and in my thoughts when I’m awake, and I feel like—her mere existence makes everything else wash away.”

“Yes Benedict, because that girl is a maelstrom.”

Benedict shook his head.

“She’s not,” he said. “She’s as annihilating as one when she wants to, but she’s not. She’s…she's the moonlight in a dark night.”

Anthony frowned at him and Benedict smiled to himself.

“I didn’t even like painting flowers until I met her.”

“How is that relevant?” Anthony asked and Benedict took a deep breath, then shook his head again.

“Nothing.”

Anthony clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes. “And what about Charlotte?”

Benedict lifted his head. “Hm?”

“The amount of disrespect—what about Charlotte?”

“What about Charlie?”

“You threw away years of courtship with her for this muse of yours and you didn’t even think about Charlotte?”

Benedict scoffed. “I don’t know how many times Charlie or I have to say this, we weren’t courting.”

“Does she know that?”

“Of course she does! She’s my best friend Anthony, not my lover and just because all of you are hoping for us to be together does not mean we’d…” Benedict ran a hand over his eyes. “We’ve never seen each other that way. If anything, I’d say Charlie will be happy for me.”

Anthony pinched the bridge of his nose and Benedict downed his drink, then stood up.

“So?” he asked. “Do I have your approval?”

“Since when do you need it?” Anthony asked back and Benedict shrugged his shoulders.

“It’s serious this time.”

“At last we agree on something,” he muttered. “Make things right with Charlotte first.”

“Anthony…”

“I don’t care what you think you two were doing,” Anthony said. “Make things right with her before you go back to your ice queen— or your Venus Flytrap, whatever it is that they call her nowadays.”

Benedict heaved a sigh. “You do realize me and Charlie weren’t going to get married with or without her in the picture?”

“I realize that you think that,” Anthony said. “Charlotte on the other hand, I have no clue.”

Benedict shot him an exasperated glare and Anthony smiled slightly, giving him a chiding look.

“You’d better know what you’re doing you goddamn rogue.”

Benedict let out a laugh. “Oh that title means a lot, coming from you.”

“I’m not the one getting married.”

“Yet,” Benedict said. “Mark my words brother, love will hit you out of nowhere. Charlie agrees.”

Anthony’s head shot up. “What?”

“She’s convinced you will fall in love even if you claim otherwise,” Benedict pointed out. “And we will both enjoy it when it happens.”

“That will never happen.”

“Tell Charlie that, not me!” Benedict called out as he walked out of the door, then made his way upstairs with a small smile on his face.

Chapter Text

This could not be happening.

No. There was no way.

You rushed out of the carriage as soon as it came to a stop and gathered your skirts to climb the marble stairs leading up to your house as fast as you could, ignoring your aunt saying your name. Darting through the door, you did not even stop to catch your breath, instead you made your way upstairs and passed through the hallway until you reached your room and opened the door, then closed it behind you and leaned back to it, your eyes burning with unshed tears.

With just one kiss, you were now to be married.

You had to give it to him, Benedict could be an excellent liar when he wanted to, or at least when your reputation was hanging by a thread.

“Married?” Lady Featherington said, doubt apparent in her tone and Lady Bridgerton’s eyes widened. Your aunt gasped.

“What?”

Benedict reached out to entwine his fingers with yours, squeezing your trembling hand lightly before running his thumb over your skin, trying to calm you down.

“You must forgive me for my shock,” Benedict said, shooting them that crooked grin of his, the one that you suspected had gotten him out of trouble multiple times. “I proposed to Miss Y/N just a moment before you caught us, what you saw was nothing more than our…enthusiastic happiness for our engagement.”

You gawked at him. “But—”

He shot you a look, making you frown before he turned to them again.

“I told my mother, she was supposed to ask Lady Thorne but I’m afraid I could not wait that long,” he said, motioning at her. “Mother, you haven’t had the chance to tell Lady Thorne I assume?”

Lady Bridgerton blinked a couple of times, then managed to smile.

“Not yet,” she said, causing Lady Danbury to raise her brows and she turned to look at your aunt. “Caroline, I was waiting for the end of the ball but you know young lovers, they rarely possess any patience.”

Your aunt looked at you. “My dearest, is that true?”

You felt as if you were watching this whole disaster from afar but somehow, your mind decided to follow Benedict’s lead for a reason unknown to you at that moment.

“I was going to tell you,” you managed to say when you found your voice and forced a small smile. “Upon Lord Shaw’s proposal, I had an epiphany.”

“…An epiphany?” she repeated and you nodded.

“Yes.”

“We’re in love,” Benedict added helpfully, holding up your entwined hands and you closed your eyes for a moment, then opened them and nodded again.

“What he—what he said.”

A silence fell upon you and your aunt pressed a hand over her chest.

“Oh thank God, you should’ve told me beforehand! So many things to do—”

“Does Lord Thorne know about this?”

Your aunt waved a hand in the air. “My husband will be happy beyond words that our sweet niece has finally found love!”

Lady Featherington arched a brow, looking between you two as if she was trying to see through your lie, then heaved a sigh.

“Well I suppose it’s less of a scandal, but a scandal nonetheless,” she pointed at you and Benedict. “The fact that you’re engaged does not condone that type of behavior, you are to wait until you’re lawfully wedded to engage in such…matters.”

“They’re in love and are to be married my dear Lady Featherington,” Lady Danbury spoke for the first time. “Leave them be.”

“When is the wedding?”

“We haven’t…”

“We will decide on it once Lord Thorne is made aware of this,” Lady Bridgerton said. “We must wait for his approval as well.”

“Let's go my dear, come on,” your aunt motioned at you and grabbed your arm to pull you closer. “We’re going back home, I must give the good news to your uncle!”

You pressed your palms into your eyes until you saw shiny dots in the dark, then lowered your hands to your lap. It hadn’t hit you back then, but now that you were thinking about it…

The moment they had seen you together it was decided for you, you had to be married. The only difference was whether the ton would think it was by your choice or that you were being forced to do so, or worse, whether you had trapped him by doing so. Considering the rumors about him and Charlotte -and no thanks to Lady Whistledown- everyone thought you were already placing yourself in the way of years long courtship, and by lying right to their faces about a proposal and you two being in love, Benedict had made sure that no one could speak anything badly of you, at least as far as this situation went.

Yet, that did nothing to put your heart at ease.

You knew what husbands were like, you knew what he would turn into no matter how sweet and understanding he seemed so far, you knew the moment he got angry—

“Clover?”

Your head shot up at your uncle’s voice behind the door along with the soft knock, and you wiped your eyes with the back of your hand before pushing yourself off the floor to fix your dress, trying to look as decent as possible.

“Come in, uncle.”

He opened the door and stepped inside, worry etched over his features.

“Were you crying?”

“I’m…” You wiped at your nose. “I’m overwhelmed, that is all. It was a long night.”

“I know, I just heard,” he pointed at the door with his thumb. “Your aunt is on cloud nine.”

At least someone was happy about tonight.

“But the way she told me of the incident,” he said, motioning at you to sit down on the chair by the table, then pulled himself a seat as well. “It makes me question certain things.”

“Like what?”

“You’re in love with Benedict Bridgerton?”

You paused before nodding your head. “Uh huh.”

“Dearest, the last time we spoke you said he annoyed you and that you would never marry him.”

“Yes I know but I had an epiphany,” you repeated your lie from earlier. “Lord Shaw’s proposal made me think about marriage and tonight with Ben—with Mr Bridgerton,” you corrected yourself. “It felt right.”

At least that wasn’t a complete lie. That kiss had felt right, like you were both made for kissing each other and nothing more. It was as if you were always meant to be, as if this desire pushing you to each other ever since you had met him was fate—

But it wasn’t and you knew it very well. That was merely bait, some sort of lure to make you lower your defenses.

Perhaps the ton had been wrong.

You weren’t the Venus Flytrap here, he was.

“And you want this?” your uncle said. “Clover my dear, you can tell me if you do not. We would figure it out, I assure you.”

You bit inside your cheek, deep in thought. As genuine as it was, you knew there was nothing he could do. If you and Benedict didn’t get married after tonight, it wasn’t just your reputation that would be ruined, it was your uncle and aunt’s as well. They would be outcasted from the respectable society of London, so would Teddy and—

No. You could not simply sit back and watch that happen.

You managed to will a smile on your face, then nodded again.

“Of course,” you managed to say. “What else could I possibly want?”

You couldn’t sleep that night. Even though you had tried your hardest to at least find some refuge in sleep, you kept tossing and turning in bed and the moment you dozed off, you woke up gasping for air. The morning wasn’t so good either, you had told your aunt you wanted to be the one to tell Teddy but the moment you so much as mentioned getting married -the word still felt foreign in your mouth- Teddy had ran to his room and slammed the door behind him. Even though you could’ve opened the door and walked in, you decided to try to convince him to open the door himself.

“Teddy?” you knocked on the door and only heard a sniffle from the other side of the door, the sound making you feel as if someone was squeezing your heart. “May I come in?”

“No!”

You bit inside your cheek. “Don’t be like this,” you said. “Please. I know that it’s very sudden—”

“You promised!”

That was more than enough to send tears to your eyes but you gritted your teeth at yourself and blinked back the tears.

“I know,” you said. “I didn’t plan this, I swear to you.”

“I don’t believe you!” he shouted from the other side and you leaned your forehead on the door, keeping quiet for a moment.

“I wouldn’t either,” you murmured and pulled back, drumming your fingernails on the wood. “Teddy, come on. Open the door so that we can talk face to face, hm?”

You heard the shuffling of his footsteps before the door cracked open so that you could see the half of his face, his eyelashes wet with tears. You could feel your heart dropping but you offered him a small smile.

“May I come in?”

He pouted his lips and opened the door wider before walking back to his bed, and plopped down on it with a huff. You sat down on the bed as well and crossed his arms, looking at you with a frown.

“Who are you getting married to?” he asked like a demand and you swallowed thickly.

“You’ve met him before,” you said. “Outside the flower exhibition, remember?”

Teddy narrowed his eyes as if trying to remember, then looked up at you. “He was tall.”

“Mm hm, he is quite tall. And he was friendly with you, no?”

Teddy shrugged his shoulders, keeping quiet.

“Did you like him?” you asked him and he shrugged again.

“I don’t know yet.” he said. “Why did you lie to me and said you wouldn’t marry anyone soon?”

You shook your head fervently. “I didn’t lie to you,” you said. “It was a…sudden decision.”

“If you marry him, does that mean you will move to his house?”

You managed to keep your expression still by some miracle.

“Yes but I will come and see you every day,” you assured him. “Every single day, like I still live here—”

“But you won’t live here.”

“No,” you said after a beat. “But I’m not going to be far away from here, it’s not the same situation as Josie.”

“Josie left.”

“I know that but I’m not leaving,” you said. “You’re my little brother, I could never, ever leave you Teddy. I swear on my life.”

He rubbed at his eye before snuggling closer to you and you wrapped your arms around him to give him a tight hug.

“Can I visit you there?”

“I’d be very sad if you didn’t,” you said, burying your nose into his hair like you used to when he was a baby and he sniffled.

“But it won’t change things, will it?” he asked. “Marriage?”

You tried to ignore the familiar fear filling you upon the mention of marriage and you closed your eyes for a moment, then took a deep breath.

“Of course not,” you lied through your teeth. “I can assure you my dearest, nothing will change.”

If it were any other time, you would have thrown yourself to your garden as a distraction but for the very first time in your life, you had a feeling it would be futile. All you wanted was just burying yourself into the fluffy covers and sleep until the events of last night disappeared from your mind but it was impossible. With Teddy having his lessons with his tutor, you had nothing to do but be alone with your thoughts. After writing your letter to Josie explaining what happened last night, you placed it on the small table in the foyer for the butler to send it with the rest of the letters, you made your way to the music room where you knew would be empty. Your aunt was so enthusiastic to talk about the upcoming wedding but even thinking about it was enough to make you feel as if you were being smothered, so you made your way to the music room where you knew would be empty.

And no one would look for you there anyway.

At least that was what you thought.

You were so emotionally exhausted that you hadn’t even noticed yourself dozing off on the sofa and for what it was worth, you were quite certain you had been asleep for about half a minute when you heard the butler announcing Benedict’s name. Your whole body jolted awake as if someone had poured a bucket of cold water on you, and you felt your heartbeat getting faster as you sat up in the sofa. You weren’t ready to see him after last night and you were hoping he shared the sentiment, so you took a step to the door in order to close it, but that was when he entered the hallway and apparently saw you out of the corner of his eye because he turned his head, his gaze falling on you.

The events of last night flashed through your mind but even that wasn’t enough for you to completely ignore the slight warmth spreading through your chest upon your name spilling from his lips in a whisper.

No, you could not—

You could not afford to have that kind of confusion, especially now.

You crossed your arms, shooting him an icy glare which made him frown slightly, then looked around.

“May I come in?”

You shrugged your shoulders, biting inside your cheek as he stepped inside and you caught the sight of a white envelope in his hand. He followed your gaze and held it up.

“It’s uh—it’s a dinner invitation for you and your family from my mother,” he said. “After last night, I figured it’d be better to give it to your aunt in person.”

You dug your fingernails into your palm. “You could just tell her you changed your mind, you know.”

He stared at you for a moment. “And ruin your life?”

He had a point there.

It was impossible to break this engagement without having your name dragged through the mud, especially considering the position you were caught in last night. If either of you broke the engagement, it would mean a scandal for the both of you -particularly you- so you knew as well as he did that it was out of question.

You shrugged your shoulders again, letting out a furious breath.

“That ship has long sailed for me,” you murmured. “And for you as well.”

His eyes flickered over your face and he took a step towards you but you immediately stepped back, making him freeze in his spot.

“Y/N,” he said after a beat. “I know it wasn’t something we talked of or planned before and I apologize for the manner that it happened but if I didn’t say that, they’d tear you apart.”

That was putting it lightly.

If you two were caught kissing without marriage in the horizon? Benedict would be criticized yes, but he could walk away unharmed in the end. With the family he had and his artistic talents which was surely going to make him famous judging by the admiration of the ton, no one would even bring it up to him a couple of years down the line.

You on the other hand?

The ton wouldn’t stop until they were picking at your dead body like vultures.

And even hours after in all this mess, you could still remember how that fire felt. You had gone to him willingly, kissed him willingly and if it weren’t for this freezing fear of what was to happen once you were married, even now you still would—

Oh you were a goddamn idiot.

Not only were you a goddamn idiot, this was also pathetic. He was being forced into this just as much as you were, and just because he managed to cover it better than you did not mean you couldn’t see through the lie. He did not want to get married, that much was obvious to anyone and he certainly wasn’t planning on marrying you. He was supposed to get married to someone like Charlotte, someone softer, someone nicer, someone who was the complete opposite of you.

Last night was just a lapse of judgement on both sides, that was all.

“I know,” you said, shifting your weight from one foot to other as you unfolded your arms. “I’m well aware of it.”

“I wasn’t trying to trick or trap you—”

“This conversation would have gone very differently if I believed you were,” you cut him off and his eyes searched your face.

“Yet you resent me.”

“No more than you will resent me,” you pointed out and he pulled his brows together.

“Resent you?” he asked. “Why would I resent you?”

You shot him a glare.

“I didn’t walk away, did I?” you asked him. “Last night. Everything would have been different if I just walked away and went back to the ballroom, but I didn’t—”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Benedict…”

“I am,” he insisted as he reached to hold your hand, making you close your eyes for a moment. “I do not regret it, not a single second.”

“You should,” you muttered as you opened your eyes but fixed your gaze on the floor and he hesitated for a second.

“Do you?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to lie and say yes, not when you could still taste his kiss on your lips, not when you knew deep down that you still craved him. You would have done anything to escape the consequences but you couldn’t—

You couldn’t bring yourself to regret that moment, not at all.

A sigh escaped from you as you forced yourself to pull your hands from his, then crossed your arms over your chest again.

“I do not, but—”

“Then it changes nothing.”

A bitter chuckle left your lips. “Please stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Taking me for a fool.”

He tilted his head. “I’m not doing that.”

“Yes you are!” you insisted and he ran a hand over his eyes.

“Y/N…”

“It changes everything and you know that, you—” you stopped yourself, shaking your head. “I honestly do not have time for this, I must go check on Teddy.”

He looked like he wanted to disagree but you walked past him before he could say anything, then turned around when you reached the door.

“As far as the whole ton and our families are concerned, we are in love and I understand that we will have to pretend as such,” you said. “And I appreciate you doing what you did, but it’s just us here so there’s no need to lie to each other. You would’ve never married me and I would’ve never married you if it weren’t for the ton forcing us so stop taking me for a fool, because I’m too smart to be deceived by this whole charade.”

He stared at you, a flash of sadness crossing his handsome features, making your heart drop but you swallowed thickly.

“My aunt is in the drawing room,” you told him. “I’m sure she will be delighted by your family’s invitation. Have a lovely day, Mr. Bridgerton.”

With that, you turned around and walked away from him, your heart still beating in your ears.

Towards the afternoon, you were so desperate to get away from your thoughts that you decided to get out of the house. Going to the city center to buy some seeds for your garden sounded like a good idea, so you took your maid with you since your aunt was already very busy with choosing what to wear to the dinner at the Bridgerton house.

Since it had happened just last night, it hadn’t hit Whistledown yet and you didn’t think Lady Bridgerton had told anyone, so at least today you did not have to deal with anyone.

Tomorrow on the other hand, was going to be another story.

“Lavenders, my lady?” Paula asked and you nodded.

“They’re very easy to grow,” you said, taking the small bag full of lavender seeds. “And my aunt really likes the smell of them, I think it’ll make her happy to see them in the garden.”

“Will you plant them to your own garden as well?”

You turned your head. “My own garden?”

“For when you marry Mr. Bridgerton?” she whispered. “I’m sorry, I just…heard some maids in the kitchen talking about it.”

You gulped down and tried to smile, then shook your head.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said. “But no. I will not do much gardening after I marry Mr. Bridgerton.”

Paula frowned. “But you like gardening.”

Well yes.

You did like gardening, but keeping a garden meant Benedict could use it to hurt you whenever he would get mad at you, so you weren’t just going to give it to him.

“I’m sure I will have other responsibilities,” you murmured and made your way to the counter so that you could pay for the seeds, then you and Paula left the flower shop.

“Are you tired?” you asked her and she shook her head.

“Not at all, my lady.”

“Wonderful. I want to go by that pastry shop that Teddy likes to buy him some sweets—”

“Miss Y/N.”

You looked over your shoulder and turned around with a slight frown on your face. Though you hadn’t been properly introduced, you already knew Benedict’s older brother, Viscount Bridgerton. You had seen him multiple times in the ballrooms with the same frown that he had right now, which seemed permanent on his face and it was quite obvious that he knew who you were.

If you had to guess, he also knew about your very sudden engagement.

“Lord Bridgerton.”

“We should talk,” he said, “I can take you to wherever it is you and your maid are going, get in the carriage.”

Ah.

Alright, it was very obvious you two would not get along well.

You blinked a couple of times. “Pardon?”

“Get in the carriage,” he nodded in the direction of his carriage and you looked up at the sky for a moment, pretending to think about it.

“No I’d rather not.”

He looked rather surprised but managed to recover quickly.

“I’m the head of the family you’re joining,” he reminded you. “And I was not asking.”

“Good for you, I am still saying no,” you deadpanned and he raised his brows.

“Do you wish to have this conversation on the street then?”

“Honestly this last minute just proves to me that I don’t wish to have any conversation with you anywhere, Lord Bridgerton,” you said. “But don’t take this personally. I just have this principle to not follow orders from people who are under the very false impression they can give me any.”

Anthony paused for a moment and let out a scoff, then nodded at Paula.

“Give us a moment.”

Paula took a couple of steps away from you so that she wouldn’t be within earshot and you crossed your arms, watching him with raised brows.

“I’ve been informed about the events of last night,” he said. “Congratulations on your engagement.”

You rolled your eyes. “Much appreciated.”

“Now I do not understand why Benedict decided to throw away years of courtship with Miss Harlowe for you,” he said, making your heart skip a beat. “But she happens to be a very close family friend, so I’m sure you can understand my hesitation.”

You tried to ignore the guilt seeping into your system. “Your hesitation?”

“I know that you two will present a different truth to the ton than what actually happened.”

You could feel your heart dropping to your stomach but you managed to keep your expression completely blank.

“Let me guess,” you said. “You think—”

“It doesn’t matter what I think about the issue, what’s done is done,” he cut you off. “Your reputation and his honor hangs in balance, obviously you two must get married. There’s no other option here.”

“Yet here you are, telling me things I already know,” you pointed out. “Thank you for the news Lord Bridgerton but I’m afraid I figured that out myself without your much needed input.”

He shook his head slightly and heaved a sigh.

“I know that my brother has a soft spot for you for a reason that remains a mystery to me,” he said. “Apparently that made him quite illogical last night. Now, on your part I do not know whether it was on purpose to be seen together or—”

The anger shot through you so fast that it made your head spin, and before he could so much as finish his sentence, you turned around and took a step to leave, trying your hardest to remember that you were in public in order to keep your fury under control.

“I’m not done talking,” he said and you stopped dead in your tracks, then turned to look at him better.

“I am.”

He gave a dry chuckle. “Well, would you do me the honor of sparing me a minute of your much precious time?”

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes at him.

“No,” you said curtly, making him give you a mocking smile.

“Considering your reputation among your suitors my lady, it doesn’t surprise me you like to have the last word,” he commented. “And for that last word to be no.”

You let out a small, humorless laugh and clicked your tongue, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Considering your reputation among ladies, my lord,” you said. “Maybe your last word should have been no.”

He pulled back, his mouth slightly agape in shock while you smiled at him and dropped a curtsy, then turned around and walked away from him with Paula following you suit.

Chapter Text

Well.

This was quite shocking.

Josie couldn’t decide whether she wanted to laugh or freeze. She had been staring at the letter for the last minute, the lines quite simple to understand and yet she couldn’t wrap her mind around them;

“By the way, I’m engaged now to that annoying artist I mentioned before. I’ll send you the details about the wedding.”

“My love?”

Josie blinked a couple of times as Bess made her way to her, then wrapped her arms around her waist from behind to rest her chin on her shoulder.

“Bess,” Josie said, holding up the letter. “Would you please read me the last part of this letter? Out loud?”

Bess pulled her brows together, then her eyes skimmed the lines.

“By the way, I’m engaged now to that annoying artist I mentioned before. I’ll send you the details about the wedding— this is lovely, who’s getting married?”

“Oh so I’m not imagining this,” Josie murmured and Bess let out a small laugh.

“Who’s getting married?”

“My sister.”

Bess pulled back slightly. “…Clover?”

“Jesus Christ—do you think she’s kidnapped?” Josie asked as she stepped out of Bess’s arms to make her way to the drawer to pull it open. “Is she writing to me from an asylum of the sort? Would I even know if she was in an asylum?”

“I don’t think people in those unfortunate places can send letters my darling,” Bess threw herself onto the bed. “Besides, the address is the same is it not?”

“It looks like her handwriting…” Josie muttered to herself as she pulled out the letters and Bess let out a laugh.

“What are you doing?”

“Listen to this;” Josie said as she opened one of the letters. “I’ve also met one of the most infuriating artists in the entire world, his name is Benedict Bridgerton and I cannot even begin to explain just how much he vexes me. He followed me around the museum I had to attend the other day, and auntie saw it. I admit that he’s very good looking, but he is very much aware of it so I suppose that convinced him that every lady must be under his spell. It’s so annoying, I hope he leaves me alone the next time we see each other. ”

“Aw she said he’s very good looking!” Bess said. “Did not take that long to fall under his spell I take it?”

“Another one,” Josie said, pulling out another letter. “I decided that I hate Benedict Bridgerton, that artist I told you about in my last letter. He had the audacity to show up at the same flower exhibition I attended, ask me for a dance for that night’s ball in front of auntie so I had to say yes, and then came to the ball near the end of the night and dared assume I was heartbroken for not being able to dance with him. Can you believe that? Josie, can you believe the audacity this man has?”

“Why was he late?”

“I have no idea and it’s not even the last of it,” Josie said. “This gossip paper wrote about me and Benedict Bridgerton and auntie seems convinced that I could have feelings for him when all I feel for him is annoyance. As if that’s not enough, he decided to— this goes on and on.” Josie threw the paper on the table. “Line after line about this artist, about just how much she hates him and how much he annoys her, and she is marrying him?”

“Who’s marrying who?” a voice reached them and Josie turned her head. Andrew gave her a big smile and wiggled his brows before entering the room, carrying a bowl of dried fruit. “Who has made my beautiful wife so displeased this early in the morning?”

“Were you not spending the night at Martin’s estate?” Bess asked, tilting her head and Andrew shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t think I shall be spending any night at Martin’s estate again, my dearest cousin,” he said, flinging himself next to her and Bess shot him a look.

“Lover’s spat?”

“Lover’s separation, more likely.”

Bess hissed in a breath. “Ouch, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, worse things happen every day. It’s not like I woke up to his dead body next to me.”

Bess slapped his arm. “Ugh, when will you let that go?”

“Never. Your late husband, may he rest in peace, managed to surprise you for once in his very short time with you and you think I will let that go—how long were you married for by the way, when he tragically passed away? A year?”

Bess rolled her eyes. “Shut it.”

Andrew let out a chuckle. “He lasted longer than I thought he would. I was sure he would have died on his way to chapel.”

“So did I,” Bess pointed out and Andrew tilted his head.

“Jo? Who’s getting married?”

Josie held up the letter and shook her head. “How is she marrying him?” she asked. “She keeps saying she hates him in all these letters.”

“There’s a thin line between love and hate,” Andrew said wistfully. “Will you two tell me who’s getting married or…?”

“My sister,” Josie murmured without looking up from the letter and Andrew gasped.

“Aw, our Clover is getting married?” he asked, pressing a hand on his chest. “I feel emotional. It feels like just yesterday that I met her and she gave me a list of everything that my father’s gardener was doing wrong in our garden—”

“Do you think he’s forcing her?” Josie asked, her brows pulled into a frown. “Because if he’s forcing her into anything, I’m going to have to kill him.”

Andrew and Bess exchanged glances.

“Fun.” Andrew deadpanned. “It’s been a while since I last witnessed murder.”

“Stop encouraging her—I feel like she would tell you if she were being forced,” Bess said quickly and Andrew threw a raisin in the air, then caught it with his mouth.

“Does this mean we’re going back to England?” he asked. “I mean don’t get me wrong, I love Spain but…I’d like to see that house father left us at the very least.”

“Left you, you mean.”

“You’re my best friend and technically my wife so what’s mine is yours, we’ve been over this,” Andrew told Josie and turned to Bess. “I’m sure we can find someone to die next to you there too Bess—”

He was cut off when Bess grabbed the pillow and smacked it at his arm, making him chuckle and reach out to pull her into a tight hug.

“Sorry!”

“I hate you so much,” Bess said with a smile before her head snapped up. “Wait, I think I also have a house there somewhere as a part of my inheritance.”

“Ah, I forgot about that!” Andrew exclaimed. “Yes you do!”

“I mean it’s a small one, but it’s still something.”

Andrew nodded his head. “Almost makes up for the fact that he died next to you to leave you that house.”  

“Andrew, so help me God…”

Josie clicked her tongue and folded the paper in her hand.

“Do you two think it’s safe?” she asked. “To go back?”

“Didn’t you say your parents were not in London?” Andrew asked. “I’d say it’s very safe. And even if they do show up there, we can handle them. I promise.”

Josie thought for a moment, nibbling on her lip before she rolled her eyes.

“Fine,” she ended up saying, making Andrew clap his hands together and Bess let out a giggle. “I suppose we’re going back to England.”

Chapter Text

It wasn’t that you didn’t know this engagement would be talked about.

You knew very well that starting that night, your sudden engagement would be a very popular topic within the ton for the days to come. Assuming otherwise would make you naïve and you were anything but naïve, at least that was what you liked to think.

But this?

This was something different.

Dear Readers,

Though it has not been long since we have started this season, it seems that love has already claimed a very unlikely couple. Benedict Bridgerton, after his many dalliances and two years of alleged courtship with Miss Harlowe, has decided to wed Miss Y/N.

Now, this author is among the many people that was quite shocked by this sudden engagement and the rumors circling this pleasant union. While there are certain witnesses that claim Mr. and future Mrs. Bridgerton were caught in a scandalous manner, some have also heard the scandalous manner was merely the enthusiasm two lovers had been caught up in after Mr. Bridgerton’s unexpected proposal. Whether that is true or not remains to be found out and rest assured my dear readers, we shall find it out.

Yet, one cannot expect everyone to share the happiness to this delightful news. Especially considering how secret Mr. Bridgerton had held his intentions with the ton's Ice Queen, it raises the question if she has in fact led Mr. Bridgerton away from Miss Harlowe with her charms like many think she has. We can only hope that Miss Harlowe is not too heartbroken, and will finish the season as a happily married woman after a much shorter courting period than she did with Mr. Bridgerton.

Regardless of the many scandals entwined in this love story, it is very clear that this engagement is not the last time we will hear of Mr. and future Mrs. Bridgerton. On behalf of the ton, this author offers her congratulations to our happy couple and would like to say that she cannot wait for the wedding.

Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, skimming the lines and your head shot up when someone knocked on the door.

“Come in!”

The door opened and Lottie peeked her head in. “Hello!”

“Lottie?” you asked, lowering the paper in a haste and she stepped inside.

“I couldn’t wait any longer to congratulate you!” she said and rushed to pull you into a hug. “It’s such wonderful news, you’re marrying Benedict!”

“Um,” you cleared your throat as she pulled back to grin at you. “Yes. I am.”

“When did you fall in love?” she asked you. “Benedict says it was very sudden!”

You blinked a couple of times, gawking at her.

“…Benedict told you—?”

“That you two fell in love very fast and suddenly.”

Ah.

So you two would be hiding what had happened from everyone then.

On one hand you understood why Benedict had chosen to hide the truth from Charlotte. You yourself had no idea about how to explain it to her, and by doing so you felt like you were protecting her from the truth in a way. You didn’t think you could bear to see the look of heartbreak on her face, especially when you knew she believed in love with all her heart so as far as she and the rest of the ton were concerned, you and Benedict were to have a love marriage.

On the other hand, you were beginning to wish you could at least talk to someone about it but that was wishing for impossible.

“And I don’t want you to worry,” she said as she plopped down on the bed and grabbed the Whistledown paper. “I’m not heartbroken about it at all, why would I be? Me and Benny were never in a courtship, I hope you know that.”

“Yeah,” you said, trying to offer her a small smile. “I know.”

“Are you very excited about your wedding?”

A bitter taste reached the back of your throat but you sat up, trying to appear nonchalant.

“It’s weeks away.”

“More time to plan it to perfection!” Lottie said with a big smile. “But I’ve heard about the dinner tonight, I am invited as well!”

You let out a relieved breath. “Oh that’s wonderful,” you said “I’m so glad you’ll be there Lottie, you have no idea.”

“Benny will be there too,” she reminded you and you paused for a moment, then nodded.

“Yeah,” you said. “He will be there of course.”

“And knowing him, he probably didn’t give you a lot of information about their family, so that’s also why I came here,” she said. “So that you’ll know who is who tonight and who likes what in detail.”

You snapped your fingers. “It’s a great idea Lottie, I appreciate it.”

Lottie waved a hand in the air. “Oh don’t mention it,” she said. “I know that this dinner is important for everyone, why shouldn’t I do my part to make it easier for at least one person?”

You felt a smile warm your face and reached out to squeeze her hand.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome!” she said and took a deep breath. “Alright so, first of all, there’s Anthony Bridgerton, the head of the family.”

“Yeah I—”

“He’s the sweetest person in the entire world,” she said, making you frown.

“What?”

“Yes! He is so thoughtful, and so kind, and so—”

“Are we talking about the same person?” you asked. “The oldest brother?”

“Yes that’s him!”

“Lottie, I already met him the other day.”

Lottie gave you a happy smile. “And? What is your opinion of him?”

“He should drop dead.”

Lottie’s eyes widened.

“No!” she said quickly as if your words could in fact make Anthony Bridgerton drop dead and she shook her head, that crestfallen look on her face making you feel as if you kicked a puppy. You took a deep breath.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“You did not like him?”

“Not exactly,” you admitted. “And the feeling is mutual.”

Lottie tilted her head. “Oh I cannot imagine him not liking you,” she said. “Why would he not?”

“I’m quite certain he has a list,” you pointed out and Charlotte thought for a moment.

“I’m sure when he sees how in love you are with each other at tonight’s dinner, he will reconsider his stance.”

You raised your brows, that familiar nervousness spreading through you at the thought of tonight.

“How in love we are,” you repeated. “Right. This dinner should be interesting.”

You could swear the time had gone faster than usual until the dinner time. Lottie had left around the afternoon to go to her own house to prepare, and your aunt was so excited that she could hardly sit still until everything looked perfect, from the gifts you would take to Bridgerton house to your gown for the night. Your uncle was not as excited as she was, and yet he had fondness etched all over his face whenever he looked at her and saw her so happy.

If you could bring yourself to hope, you would have hoped for having a marriage similar to theirs, one he still could not help but smile whenever he saw her almost glowing in excitement, but you knew better than that.

Their marriage was an exception, something impossible for you to achieve.

No matter how sweet Benedict had been with you, as soon as you were wedded—

No.

You couldn’t think about that, not now.

“Clover, a word?”

You whirled around on your heels at the foyer while your aunt and Teddy stepped outside to make their ways to the carriage.

“Of course, uncle,” you said as he approached you, fixing his jacket.

“Do I look like a good in-law?”

A small giggle escaped from you and you narrowed your eyes, tilting your head in an attempt to look serious.

“Very much so,” you said. “Bridgertons will be lucky to have you.”

“Not luckier than they will be to have you,” he said and you bit down on your lip, averting your gaze.

“I doubt it.”

“Why?”

“I’m not—” you paused for a moment, then shrugged your shoulders. “I’m just not sure I will fit in with them.”

“Love has blessed you, my dear,” he said. “Perhaps you should give them or yourself a chance.”

You heaved a sigh and tried to smile.

“Let’s just get through this dinner,” you said. “And I will see about that.”

“More than I hoped for,” he said, gesturing surrender before offering you his arm. “Let’s get through this dinner then.”

You took his arm and walked out of the house with him, trying your hardest to repress the fear tensing all your muscles. However, you seemed to be the only one who had that issue because Teddy kept humming himself a tune the whole way to the Bridgerton house while your aunt filled your uncle in about her many ideas for the wedding.

That nervousness was getting harder the more people talked about that impending doom.

When the carriage came to a stop and the coachman opened the door, you took a shaky breath, digging your fingernails into your palms. Your uncle helped you and your aunt out, Teddy jumping out of the carriage full of excitement. The four of you made your way up the stairs as the doors opened before you all stepped in, Lady Bridgerton, Anthony and Benedict waiting for you in the foyer.

“Lord and Lady Thorne,” Lady Bridgerton greeted your uncle and aunt, only for them to greet her back, Anthony and Benedict doing the same.

“And my dear!” Lady Bridgerton said, kissing you on the cheek. “Welcome! Teddy, Gregory and Hyacinth are so happy that you’re here.”

“Thank you Lady Bridgerton,” you said and Benedict shot you a warm smile before he bowed.

“Hello."

“Good evening,” you greeted him back and Lady Bridgerton and your aunt exchanged smiles before you all made your way into the house. You narrowed your eyes at Anthony who glared at you back and Benedict looked between you two, frowning slightly.

“I heard you two met earlier?”

“We did,” you said drily and Anthony opened his mouth to say something but before he could, he was interrupted.

“Hello everyone,” the familiar cheerful voice reached you, making you turn your head to see Charlotte entering the house with a big smile on her face. “Thank you again for the invitation. My mama had to stay with the little ones but I hope my papa and I are enough to share the happiness!”

Charlotte’s father bowed, and quickly made his way to Lady Bridgerton and your uncle and aunt, and Anthony smiled softly at Lottie.

“Charlotte,” he said. “Welcome.”

Teddy held his breath, making you and Benedict turn to him.

“I forgot my gift!”

You frowned. “Teddy, uncle already—”

“No, my gift!” he said, already running out of the door and you rushed after him outside, with Benedict following you.

“Teddy!” you called out and he ignored you, approaching the carriage to pull himself up into it. You felt Benedict come up to you to stand by your side while you frowned but before you could go to Teddy he had already jumped out of the carriage, holding a couple of flowers from their stems with a proud grin on his face.

“I wanted to bring flowers for the ladies because ladies like flowers!” he said, holding them up for you to see them better, making Benedict chuckle. “And they’re all different, and this one will be for Miss Harlowe because it’s the prettiest one.”

You blinked a couple of times, taking a look at the different sized stems that looked awfully like they were ripped instead of cut. “Teddy, are those…from my garden?”

He nodded, happiness shining in his eyes and you couldn’t find it in your heart to scold him for it, so you cleared your throat.

“Oh?”

“They’re very beautiful Teddy,” Benedict said. “I’m sure Charlotte will love it, why don’t you go inside and give it to her?”

Teddy looked up at him, a small frown appearing on his face as his gaze darted between you and Benedict.

Oh.

Of course. He still feared Benedict would somehow make you leave just like Josie now that you were to be married.

“We’ll be right there,” you assured him. “Go ahead and give the ladies their flowers, they will be so happy.”

A bright smile lit up his face and he nodded, then ran back into the house, making you shake your head.

“Unbelievable.”

“He’s going to be a heartbreaker when he grows up,” Benedict said with a laugh and you heaved a sigh.

“That flower for Charlotte?” you said. “That’s gardenia.”

“Hard to grow?”

“One of the hardest,” you said, running a hand over your face. “Well at least he can appreciate the beauty of it.”

A silence fell upon you and you cleared your throat, then turned to go back into the house but Benedict touched your arm gently, making you stop.

“Can we—” his blue eyes searched your face. “Can we talk?”

It wasn’t fair that he looked this handsome even under the dim moonlight, and it certainly wasn’t fair that just with one look he managed to make your heart skip a beat. Reminding yourself to focus, you started fidgeting with the bracelet around your wrist.

“What is it?”

“Our engagement dinner,” he said with the ghost of a mischievous smile pulling at his lips and you bit inside your cheek to keep yourself from doing the same, then crossed your arms.

“I’m listening.”

He ran his hand through his black hair, messing it up in the most endearing way before he pointed at the house with his thumb.

“Only my mother and brother know about the details of our uh—sudden betrothal.”

You clicked your tongue. “Figures. Your brother had many opinions about it.”

“He tends to have that issue more often than you’d think,” he pointed out, nodding his head and you arched a brow.

“And?”

“And what?”

“What did he say to you?”

Benedict scrunched up his nose and scratched the back of his neck. “Oh he…congratulates us.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Try again.”  

“He wished us a lifetime of happiness.”

“Benedict,” you said, disbelief apparent in your tone and he cleared his throat, waving a hand in the air.

“He may have mentioned something about you being as sweet as a viper, now that I think about it.”

“Ah.”

“And that he would ask mother to pray for me because I would need it.”

“He’s not completely wrong,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “You might need a little more than a prayer if you’re insistent on spending a lifetime with me though.”

That playful light started glimmering in his eyes. “Looking forward to it.”

“I should gift your mother a Bible or something in case she wants to perform an exorcism on me.”

“Come on now,” he scoffed as if the mere idea was absurd. “You’re not being fair.”

“I think I am.”

“No you’re not,” he said. “A Bible? Teddy brought all the ladies in the house flowers, it’s quite obvious you will need to step it up when it comes to gifts.”

A laughter you couldn’t stop escaped from you and you pursed your lips together to hide it, ignoring his roguish smirk.

“So before we go in there,” you said, desperate to appear nonchalant. “It would be better if we established certain things about this…” you motioned between you. “Whatever this is.”

“Agreed,” Benedict said. “I actually took it upon me to fill them in on details because they kept asking me questions about everything between us.”

“That’s great,” you said. “I’ll just tell them the same then, because I’m not really good at…you know. Sharing things with people.”

“Shocking information,” he noted and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Shut it,” you said. “What did you tell them?”

“Well, Daphne asked when things started between us,” he said. “I told her that I found myself thinking of proposing to you within the season after the flower exhibition. Dreaming of our future together and such.”

You snapped your fingers. “That’s such a good lie. How did you come up with it?”

His gaze stopped on you for a moment, a look you couldn’t quite decipher crossing his face but it was gone as soon as it came before he took a deep breath.

“The painting,” he said. “I figured it’d be more convincing.”

You nodded, trying to ignore the way your stomach did a happy flip upon remembering the painting.

“Alright,” you breathed out. “When did we fall in love?”

His head shot up. “What?”

“I mean the whole ton will believe we’re in love, we must have our story straight,” you said. “Any idiot could propose to someone when they’re infatuated. When did we realize it was true love and not some sort of infatuation?”

He didn’t even pause to think about it. “Greenhouse.”

“We weren’t supposed to be unchaperoned at the greenhouse, Benedict.”

Hearing his name from your lips made him smile slightly but he didn’t comment on it.

“Poetry reading then?”

You made a face. “Kitty was talking about how you would propose to her by the end of the season during the said poetry reading right behind me, that’s hardly romantic.”

He hummed. “I wasn’t aware you knew the meaning of the word romantic.”

“It’s a nonsense belief I must play into,” you said, rolling your eyes. “That’s what it means. So?”

“The night of the theatre.”

Your breath got caught in your throat when the memory of the rooftop hit you, making you bite at your lip.

“Now that I think about it, we did push our luck I think,” you muttered and Benedict shrugged his shoulders.

“Third time was the charm,” he said. “But no, I’m not talking about the rooftop. I’m talking about the play.”

“We didn’t talk during the play.”

“Okay it’s never—” he paused. “I think we’re looking at it the wrong way.”

“What do you mean?”

A sad smile appeared on his face. “No one ever falls in love at the same time, someone always falls in love first.”

You both knew what he was referring to, and you averted your eyes from his to take a look at their garden.

You wanted to tell him it wasn’t love, that he couldn’t possibly have fallen in love with you. It was lust at the very best, an infatuation he had convinced himself as love. He was going to realize that sooner or later, and when he did he would resent you, and it was going to turn into hate in no time and—

No.

You weren’t going to think about that now.

“How about this?” his voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you swallowed thickly, turning your gaze to him. “I realized it was true love at the night of the poetry reading, and you realized it was true love during—”

“The dance,” you cut him off. “That would also play into how we…uh—were discovered after your proposal.”

A silence fell upon you for a moment and his gaze locked into yours.

“We—” he started but was cut off when someone cleared their throat and you both turned your heads.

“Hello lovebirds,” Eloise joked and pointed back with the geranium she was holding, no doubt Teddy’s gift to her. “You’re expected for dinner. We can’t start without the guests of honor and I’m starving here.”

You nodded and took a deep breath, then offered her a smile.

“Of course. I didn’t notice the time.”

She nodded at Benedict. “Is he trying to convince you not to change your mind? Considering marriage is a prison that no sane person would want?”

“Eloise,” Benedict said with a sigh and she held up her hands.

“Fine, fine…”

Well, Eloise did have a point there, marriage was a prison but at this point, there was nothing you could do but walk into it.

“Shall we?” Benedict asked and offered you his arm, and you placed your hand on his arm, trying to ignore the sparks rushing through you.

“Yeah,” you said. “Let’s go, I’m starving as well.”

It seemed that everyone was having fun at the dinner. Charlotte’s father was a sweet man, and he had gotten along well with your uncle in no time, Lady Bridgerton and your aunt no doubt planning the wedding, and Teddy, Gregory and Hyacinth were all on the other side of the table, talking and giggling. Charlotte had been seated next to Anthony, and they had been in a very deep conversation since the beginning of the dinner.  Daphne especially seemed very excited but perhaps because Benedict had warned her about it before, she managed to control herself and keep from asking about the plans for the wedding.

Even though it was a total sham, you had to admit you and Benedict had put up a very convincing performance so far. Perhaps it was because no one had pulled you or Benedict into a conversation yet, but you could feel the stolen glances and you were sure that sooner or later—

“So,” Lord Harlowe said, “The lovers at the table!”

And as it turned out, it would be sooner.

“Must we wait until the dessert or will you tell us the details about the proposal now?”

You tried to swallow down the nervousness and reached out to grab your glass, then took a huge sip as Benedict sat up straighter.

“The proposal?”

“Or anything really!” Charlotte said with a smile, making Anthony steal a look at her before turning to you both. “You refused to share your plans with even me, Benny. We tell each other everything!”

Anthony pressed his lips together before taking a sip of his wine while Daphne motioned at Benedict.

“I cannot believe you kept it a secret from all of us.”

“I’m sure he had his reasons, Daph.”

“I didn’t want you to scare my betrothed off, that’s enough of a reason,” Benedict said and Eloise grinned.

“And what was the reply when you proposed?” she asked. “I’m curious about that. How does one answer a proposal rather than running away?”

“Eloise—” Lady Bridgerton said but she was interrupted.

“I said yes.”

“She said of course,” you and Benedict talked at the same time and you pulled your brows together to shoot him a confused look.

“Of course?” you repeated as Anthony cleared his throat and you snapped your fingers. “I uh…I believe I said yes, of course.”

“I can hardly remember anything because I was incredibly nervous,” Benedict added in a haste and Hyacinth let out a breath.

“Were you scared she would say no, Benedict?”

“I was in fact convinced she would say no.” Benedict said and you nodded.

“I know the feeling.”

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly and Benedict bit down a smile.

“Well, I did tell you that you would fall in love,” your aunt said, pointing at you. “You tempted fate too much my dear, you always do.”

“And when did you two fall in love?” Charlotte asked, excitement laced in her tone and Benedict and you exchanged glances.

“After our first dance,” you said curtly, taking another sip of your drink just so that you could keep yourself busy and a silence fell upon the table before Benedict took a deep breath.

“For me it was the night of the poetry reading,” Benedict said, his voice soft. “I’ve had one moment with her, a fleeting one really, but I knew before our conversation was over—before she walked away from me yet again,” he added, making the rest of the table chuckle. “As she does all the time since the first day we met.”

You could feel your heartbeat getting faster as you stared at him, unable to look away from his piercing gaze.

“But I knew,” he said. “Right there and then, that she is the inspiration to my very soul. That she will hold my heart forever.”

A chorus of aww raised from everyone around the table and you felt a fire spread over your face before you covered your face with your hands, your heartbeat almost deafening in your ears. You lowered your hands, unable to stop the smile on your face and Benedict held your hand to squeeze it, the familiar desire shooting through you from his simple touch. Your aunt pressed a hand on her chest while Eloise rolled her eyes, and your uncle shook his head slightly.

“Young love,” he muttered while Charlotte’s father raised his glass.

“Hear hear.”

“Excuse me for a moment please,” you managed to say as you pushed your chair back, then left the dinner table. You passed the hallway to open the window, the cold air hitting your face immediately but it did nothing to soothe the burning on your face, on your whole body.

You knew it was merely a performance for the others, to make them believe in your love so that there would be no questions asked about your betrothal, so that they would all feel happy about it but even you couldn’t help but feel that warmth in your chest, spreading through your system.

You weren’t supposed to feel anything like this. It was all a lie, and the minute you lowered your guard…

You knew better.

The footsteps coming closer made you turn your head and you offered Benedict a small smile.

“I just needed some air,” you said, motioning at the window. “I won’t be long.”

He smiled back and leaned sideways to the wall, crossing his arms. “Are you alright?”

Your eyes flickered over his handsome face and you took a deep breath.

“Yeah,” you said before you sat on the windowsill. “You have no reason to worry, I know it was all pretend.”

Benedict paused for a moment and swallowed thickly, pursing his lips together as if he was trying to hold back the words. Silence fell upon you as you found yourself admiring his beauty almost in a daze before you remembered to snap out of it, then threw your shoulders back.

“We should go back,” you murmured and stood up to step past him, but he touched your arm to make you stop.

“Y/N."

You looked up at him. “Hm?”

“I didn’t get a chance to tell you earlier,” he said “You look absolutely breathtaking.”

You pulled your brows together, looking at the hallway before turning to him again.

“It’s just us here,” you said. “No one else to hear it, you don’t need to say that.”

“I’m not saying it for anyone else to hear it,” he said with a soft smile. “I’m saying it because it’s the truth.”

Your eyes snapped up to his, that fire over your cheeks getting even worse as you blinked a couple of times, at a loss for words while that pleasant warmth burst through your chest, spreading through your bloodstream. You opened your mouth, then closed it again and walked past him in a haste to go back to the dining room, trying your hardest to stop the smile curling your lips.

Chapter Text

After a sleepless night, as you watched the first rays of sunlight spill into your room, you were sure of one thing;

Tonight was going to be absolute chaos.

You hadn’t liked attending balls even before all this but now that you and your betrothed had to pretend to be in love for the whole ton to see at the first ball you would attend?

You were more than ready to pretend to faint again just to avoid it.

Of course, you were the only person to feel that way. Between you and Benedict, you were the one who always found it hard to be or even sound friendly, Benedict on the other hand didn’t even have to try for the people to be drawn to him. You were beginning to feel like he could charm the whole room without so much as showing a little effort, so of course everyone was going to believe everything he said, including how in love he was.

Whereas you were going to have to show a lot of effort.

At least the wedding negotiations had been over in a day. Your uncle and Anthony -as the head of two families- had been quick with them and now all you and Benedict had to do was wait until the wedding which your aunt was very excited for.

“My dear?”

You stopped dead in your tracks and peeked your head around the doorframe of the drawing room to look at your aunt who was writing a letter.

“Auntie?”

“Where are you going?”

“I told Lottie I would go to the florist with her,” you said. “She wants to buy flowers for her stepmother and the little ones, and for her own room.”

“Ah,” she said. “Did you decide what you will wear tonight at the ball?”

You leaned sideways to the doorframe. “Yes and it’s all ready. Paula laid them over.”

She smiled at you. “And are you very excited?” she asked. “It’ll be your first outing as a couple.”

You took in a breath and nodded. “Uh huh.”

“Everyone keeps asking me questions about you two but they really want to hear the details from you.”

You made a face. “I am aware.”

She shot you a knowing look.

“I know you’re not exactly fond of all that…attention,” she said softly. “And that you’d rather have your privacy until the wedding and afterwards.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Oh painfully so,” she said with a small laugh, making you smile as well. “You do not have to tell them anything you do not wish to.”

You bit inside your cheek. “What if I wish to tell them nothing at all?”

“Then tell them nothing.”

You let out a bitter chuckle. “Oh of course. And I’m sure they will not insist.”

“Since when what people say to you affect your actions?” she asked and you shrugged your shoulders, biting at your nail.

“I don’t know anymore.”

“You’re in love and you’re getting married,” she said. “Tell them that. And if that’s not enough for them, they can just do what they’ve always done.”

“Which is?”

“Stay curious,” she said, winking at you and you scoffed a laugh.

“I shall make sure to tell them that,” you said as you pushed yourself off the doorframe. “I should go. I’ll bring you flowers though!”

“Oh you’re the sweetest,” she said, pressing a hand on her shoulder. “I’d like that a lot. Now go, you shouldn’t keep Miss Harlowe waiting.”

You nodded and made your way downstairs, then walked out of the house to get into the carriage.

The florist wasn’t very far so when you and Charlotte walked into it, she was still telling you about her latest suitor.

“And Mr. Greenway wanted to know what made Benedict break our courtship, can you believe it? He did not seem convinced when I told him there was no courtship.”

You ran your palm over the lavenders. “Your suitors make me want to stab them, honestly.”

“You and my papa seem to have that in common,” she said. “He keeps saying he does not wish to see me married and leave home.”

“And your stepmother?”

“Mama says I should only marry the one I love,” she said. “Like you and Benedict!”

You dragged your tongue over your teeth, keeping your gaze on the flowers. 

“Like me and Benedict," you murmured. "Mm hm."

“Are you very excited about the wedding?”

“Yeah,” you said before leaning in to smell the lavenders better. “Sure.”

She nibbled on her lip, rocking on the balls of her feet but remained silent, making you turn to her.

“Lottie?”

She bit down a smile. “Yes?”

“What is it?”

“I was just wondering,” she said. “If I could be your bridesmaid perhaps?”

You stared at her before a smile warmed your face, then you took a deep breath, narrowing your eyes in an attempt to look to be in deep thought.

“Hmm…” you said, “I may need to think of it.”

“Oh that's alright-"

You scoffed a laugh and reached out to squeeze her hand.

“Lottie of course you will be my bridesmaid!” you said. “I would like to ask you to be my maid of honor, in fact.”

She let out a squeal and wrapped her arms around you to hug you, then pulled back.

“Of course!” she said. “I already have so many ideas about my gown, can it be pale blue do you think? I really like pale blue!”

“It’s your decision, I really will not mind whichever color you choose.”

“And your wedding gown?”

“I’m not certain yet,” you said after a beat. “There’s still time to think about it—you can buy these by the way. They’re good.”

She made her way to the counter to pay for the bunch, and you grabbed a bouquet of crocuses to do the same. The florist put them into a paper bag and gave it to you, and you both started walking towards the exit.

“You at least must have an idea about what your bridal bouquet,” she insisted. “Do you not?”

“Well I—” you started but then stopped in your tracks to approach the bouquets by the window.

“Aw they’re beautiful!” Lottie said. “What are those?”

“Tuberoses,” you said with a small smile, then leaned in to inhale the scent. “I like tuberoses.”

“Perhaps they can be your bridal bouquet!” she said and you pulled back from the flowers, then looked around.

“Perhaps— excuse me,” you said to the florist who approached you upon hearing you. “How much for a bouquet of these?”

The man stole a look at the flowers, then raised his brows.

“Those are tuberoses my lady.”

“Yes I know. How much?”

He shifted his weight and glanced at your hand. “My lady, I’m afraid I cannot sell them to you.”

You pulled your brows together and Lottie tilted her head to the left like a confused puppy.

“Why not?”

“You’re unmarried, my lady.”

“She will be married soon!” Lottie chirped happily and your frown deepened.

“How is that relevant?”

“Tuberoses, my lady,” he said. “Unmarried ladies aren’t allowed to smell them or purchase them for that matter.”

Lottie’s hands flew to her face to cover her nose and mouth and you blinked a couple of times.

“But it will be my pleasure to sell them to you once you’re married—”

“I don’t understand,” you cut him off. “Why can’t I buy them now?”

“Tuberoses can awaken certain…urges my lady,” he said. “Urges that are not appropriate for unmarried ladies such as yourself.”

A small, muffled whine escaped from Lottie and you arched a brow, then batted your eyelashes, feigning complete innocence.

“What sort of urges?”

“My lady, they’re not—” he paused. “Not appropriate to think of.”

“Why not?” you asked but Lottie reached out to grab your arm with her free hand, then tugged at it.

“Thank you,” she said from behind her palm and pulled you to the other side of the shop near the door.

“Oh dear God, I accidentally smelled it I think!”

“Lottie.”

“So did you!”

“Yes and nothing is going to happen—”

“Charlotte?” you heard a voice and you looked over your shoulder to see Anthony and Benedict by the door before they both stepped in. Anthony went straight to Charlotte and Benedict smiled at you, making your heart skip a beat before you nodded in his direction.

“What are you doing here?” you asked and Benedict motioned outside.

“We were just—Charlie, what are you doing?”

“We smelled a flower we weren’t supposed to.”

Anthony frowned. “What?”

“And now it’ll awaken certain urges.”

Benedict stared at her. “Charlie, what are you talking about?”

“The florist says unmarried ladies aren’t supposed to smell tuberoses and I accidentally smelled them,” she said, making you heave a sigh, looking up at the ceiling. “And so did Y/N!”

“Mine wasn’t accidental,” you deadpanned with a shrug of your shoulders and Benedict repressed a laugh.

“Really?”

“I’m still waiting for the explanation of what urges it will awaken,” you stated, looking around for the florist. “He was not done explaining, where is he?”

“Y/N,” Benedict said, his voice a playful warning and you grinned at him.

“What?” you asked. “I’m in terrible need of explanations.”

“You are in terrible need of taunting someone, more likely.”

“How dare you?” you asked, trying to adapt a solemn expression. “You’re trying to get in the way of true knowledge here, what would your beloved philosophers say—”

“I do not feel any different,” Lottie said, worry still etched in her tone as she lowered her hand and Anthony looked around, then grabbed a flower.

“There you go Charlotte,” he said. “Peonies. Your favorite.”

Charlotte took the red peony from him, a smile warming her face before she bit at her lip.

“You remembered!”

…Ah.

This was interesting.

The realization hit you so hard that it made your head snap up and you stared at them. Now it made sense why Anthony was so furious when he had approached you concerned about Charlotte after your engagement to Benedict. It made sense why he was so gentle around her, it made sense why Charlotte insisted he was the sweetest, it made sense—

He loved her, and she loved him, and you couldn’t tell if either of them was aware of it.

Everyone kept asking how Benedict hadn’t proposed to Charlotte in two years, what you wanted to know was how this idiot hadn’t proposed to her in those same two years.

You forced yourself to avert your gaze and cleared your throat.

“I cannot believe I’m not allowed to buy flowers because the florist is an idiot.”

“You don’t think it’s dangerous?”

“No,” you and Benedict said at the same time and Charlotte turned to you.

“And you’re not worried at all?”

“There’s nothing to worry about except for the lack of logic here,” you stated. “But then again, that’s not exactly uncommon in the ton, I’m getting used to it slowly like a frog in the hot water.”

Benedict’s smile was soft as a fond look crossed his eyes and you shifted your weight, then looked around.

“I’d better go,” you said. “Lottie?”

“Oh I’m coming of course,” she said. “I’ll see you both later.”

You and she walked out of the florist to make your way down the street and Lottie twirled the single peony between her fingers with a smile.

“I have a question."

“Yes?”

“What do peonies symbolize?”

You stole a look at her. “Love and honor.”

“Oh,” she said quietly before inhaling the scent of the flower and you repressed a smile, then pulled her to the next shop.

By the time you returned to the house, you and Charlotte had spent at least three hours outside, first checking out the bookshop, then sitting at the teahouse. Spending time with her had put you in a better mood as usual, and you had almost forgotten about tonight’s ball until you passed through the door to your house and saw one of the maids carrying your coat for the night. You shook your head, making your way upstairs as you took the flowers into your hand and entered the drawing room.

“Pretty flowers for a pretty lady,” you said, making your aunt turn and her whole face lit up.

“Aw, Clover!” she said, taking them from you before kissing your cheek. “They are absolutely gorgeous my dear!”

You smiled back at her as she gave them to a maid for her to put them into a vase, then turned to you.

“I sent yours to your room.”

Your head shot up. “Hm?”

She winked at you. “Just go there and see.”

You pulled your brows together and walked out of the drawing room to make your way to your room, then opened the door to step inside but as soon as you saw what was on your desk, you stopped dead in your tracks.

Tuberoses.

You gawked at it before slowly approaching the bouquet in the vase, then leaned forward to take in the scent, your eyes fluttering close. A smile curled your lips as you opened your eyes, then tilted your head when the tiny envelope next to the vase caught your eye, so you reached out to open it and took out the small card.

I’d hate to get in the way of true knowledge.

Benedict.

A scoff of laughter escaped from you and you shook your head, then walked to fling yourself into your bed, painfully aware of the smile warming your face.

The night hadn’t even started yet but you were more than ready to get back in the carriage and go home already. Nervousness was rushing through you and you desperately needed some fresh air before going into that chaos, so you took a look at the couple of people in the garden making their way to the big house, then turned to your aunt.

“Auntie, I uh…” you said. “Can I wait for Lottie first?”

“We can wait for her inside?”

“Well yes, but—” you cleared your throat. “After Whistledown’s article, people will ask me some questions about the betrothal, so I fear I won’t have the time to talk to her.”

She looked around. “I’m not sure…”

“It’s a garden.”

“You’d still be alone.”

“Barely,” you said. “There are people here.”

“My dear, it’s night time and—”

“Lady Thorne,” Benedict’s voice reached you and you turned your head to see him, an inexplicable rush of relief washing over you for some reason as he greeted you as well with a wink.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” your aunt smiled at him and glanced at you, heaving a sigh. “I suppose you can wait for Miss Harlowe here if Mr. Bridgerton is staying.”

You turned to look up at Benedict expectantly and he raised his brows.

“Yeah I can—I’m staying, definitely.”

You held your breath and motioned at him. “See, auntie? He’s staying.”

She thought for a moment, then clicked her tongue.

“Alright but,” she said, pointing at you two. “No going anywhere by yourselves.”

Benedict held up his hands, gesturing surrender and you shook your head fervently.

“Of course not.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Lady Thorne.”

“You’re staying right here in the garden, you hear me?”

“Yes, of course. Right here.”

“We’ll follow this road to the ballroom,” Benedict motioned at the stone road. “Won’t even step anywhere else.”  

Your aunt narrowed her eyes at you two as if trying to see whether you two were lying, then shook her head.

“I will not be able to rest until you two are married,” she murmured and turned around, then made her way to the house. 

“Thank you,” you said, watching her enter the house and Benedict waved a hand in the air.

“Don’t mention it,” he said. “What’s going on?”

“I needed some fresh air before throwing myself into that gladiator pit,” you grumbled but before Benedict could even answer, Lady Anna -one of the ladies you had met when you were presented to the queen- approached you with her mama.

“How wonderful to see you both!” her mama said. “Congratulations on your betrothal.”

Benedict shot her that irresistible crooked grin of his and bowed while Lady Anna glared at you, and turned to smile at him.

“What a hasty engagement though,” she said. “Barely anyone knew you two were in courtship.”

“Oh I was under the impression that everyone did, my lady,” Benedict said. “Thanks to Lady Whistledown.”

She let out a giddy giggle and her mother turned to you.

“Any idea when the wedding will be?” she asked you and you reminded yourself to smile.

“In a month,” you said. “Approximately.”

“I cannot wait to hear the full story from you!” she said. “We will see you inside of course?”

“Of course,” Benedict said and Lady Anna dropped a curtsy, then followed her mama to the house while you let out a breath and looked up at him.

“Get me out of here right now.”

“Way ahead of you,” he muttered, looking around. “Do you see that corner? Far end of the garden?”

“It’s such a lovely garden by the way,” you pointed out as you glanced at the flowers. “Now that you mentioned it. That being said, I feel like their gardener should take a look at the—”

“Y/N, focus.”

“Right,” you said and cleared your throat. “Yes I can see that corner.”

“There’s a bench there, we can go there when that carriage passes by here. You first—”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes I am serious— go now!” he whispered as he pushed you gently, making you repress the laughter bubbling up in your chest. You moved in the same direction as the carriage, using it to shield yourself from anyone else’s gaze before you rushed to the far end of the garden. Just as Benedict said, there was a bench in the dark half covered by the tree over it and you sat down, running a hand over your eyes.

It took a couple of minutes but soon enough you heard the footsteps and Benedict entered your sight, shooting you that mischievous grin and your heart skipped a beat but you frowned at yourself, sitting up straighter.

“May I?” he motioned at the bench and you scooted over to the side.

“Sure.”

He sat beside you and you heaved a sigh, leaning back on your palms, keeping your gaze on the sky before stealing a look at him.

“Do you think we’re actually pushing our luck?”

Benedict raised his brows and shrugged his shoulders.

“Luck pushed us first,” he said. “And honestly, what are they going to do? Marry us twice?”

A laugh climbed up your throat but you covered your mouth to muffle to sound, making him smile. You lowered your hand and took a deep breath, your stomach doing a pleasant flip.

“Thank you by the way,” you said. “For the flowers.”

“Of course,” he said, his blue eyes gleaming in the dim moonlight. “Let me guess, you were overtaken by uh… what was it? Desires—”

“Inappropriate urges.”

“Yeah those, you were overtaken by inappropriate urges the moment you smelled them?”

A giggle managed to escape from you this time and you nodded.

“Certainly,” you said. “Still couldn’t get myself out of this ball though.”

“It won’t be that bad.”

You shot him a look. “Yes it will. Didn’t you see them just now?”

“It’s just until another scandal breaks out,” he said. “It’s the social season, I doubt we’ll have to wait that long.”

You pressed your palms into your eyes until you saw shiny dots in the darkness, then lowered them again.

“They’ll keep asking questions and I don’t like…” you trailed off and rubbed at your wrist. “I don’t like telling people things. Lies or not.”

Benedict nodded his head. “Send them my way.”

You scoffed. “Benedict—”

“No I’m serious,” he said. “You don’t owe anyone anything, much less an explanation. If they want to hear about it that much, they can come ask me.”

You tried to ignore the small smile threatening to pull at your lips and turned your gaze to look up at the moon again, still rubbing at your wrist absentmindedly. A peaceful silence fell upon you, the soft night breeze caressing your face and you heaved a sigh. Benedict said your name, making you hum before he cleared his throat.

“I um…I got you something.”

You turned your head to look at him and he offered you a soft smile before reaching inside his jacket to pull out a rectangular box. Your eyebrows furrowed as you pulled back slightly.

“What’s that?”

“A gift.”

You eyed the sleek box, your frown deepening before you shook your head.

“No you can keep it, I don’t have anything to give you back.”

Benedict blinked a couple of times.

“I didn’t get it for – that would make it a trade,” he said helpfully. “It’s a gift.”

Your question was nearly a demand. “Why?”

“Because I wanted to?” he said like he was asking you back. “I saw it and thought of you.”

You looked up from the box at him. “What do you want in return?”  

“To repeat, that’s not how it—” he paused. “Has no one given you a gift before?”

You nibbled on your lip and shrugged your shoulders.

“Family,” you murmured and scoffed. “Some of them, that is.”

It’s a trick, a small voice in your said. He’ll want it back once you like it, as soon as he—

“I don’t want anything in return,” his voice cut through your thoughts and you tilted your head, your lips pulled into a pout.

“If you’re going to pull it back when I reach for it, I’ll leave.”

He stared at you for a moment as if he couldn’t tell whether you were jesting or not and he looked like he had a million of questions he wanted to ask, but in the end he decided otherwise.

“How about this?” he said. “I’ll just put it here. If you want you can open it, if not we can leave it here and go back to the ballroom.”

He placed the box between you and leaned back on the bench, crossing his arms as if he wanted to prove he wouldn’t make any sudden moves like pulling the box out of your reach. You hesitated for a second, then slowly reached out to take the box into your lap, then pulled at the ribbon and lifted the cover.

A breath left your lips as soon as you saw what was inside.

It was a pocket knife unlike any other you had seen so far. It was light, lighter than your current one and small figures of flowers were engraved on the handle, tiny rubies glimmering on silver. You flicked the knife, the blade coming out of its place instantly, and even in the dim light you could see just how sharp it looked before you pushed it back into its place, then turned to Benedict who was watching you with a soft look on his face.

“Thank you,” you said, unable to stop the smile on your face. “It’s very beautiful.”

He grinned at you. “I’m glad you like it.”

You pulled your pocket knife out of your cleavage before putting it beside you on the bench, then pushed your new knife into your cleavage, causing Benedict to instantly look up at the sky. You pursed your lips in order not to laugh, then slipped the silk skirt of your gown up your leg to tuck the old knife into your garter, painfully aware of Benedict stealing a look at you out of the corner of his eye. You fixed your skirts and turned to him to see him taking a deep breath, closing his eyes.

“Are you alright?”

“Mm hm,” he said, sounding a bit breathless for some reason and opened his eyes, then cleared his throat. “Yeah. Absolutely. Totally alright.”

A small spark ran down your spine and you arched a brow, tilting your head.

“Any inappropriate urges?”

“So many,” he said, his voice coming out like he was tormented and motioned around in a vague manner. “Tuberoses here somewhere.”

You bit down a smile, then got up from the bench and fixed your gown.

“Come on,” you said. “We should go back to the ballroom, I don’t want to be a part of yet another scandal.”

You stood on your tiptoes to take a look at the garden to see whether anyone would see you together when you walked in there but by some miracle it seemed empty enough. Judging by the music reaching even there, dancing had started already and probably everyone who was invited was already inside, dancing and socializing.

“Right,” Benedict said and stood up as well, then threw his shoulders back and offered you his arm. “To the gladiator’s pit we go then.”

“Should be interesting,” you murmured and placed your hand over his arm, that familiar warmth spreading through you and you took a shaky breath, then you both started walking to the house.

Chapter Text

You didn’t even know preparing a wedding could be this troublesome, but for the last couple of days, you’d barely had any time to sit down. There were so many things to do, and for the most part you felt as if you were doing nothing but saying “Yes” to things you weren’t even paying attention to.

But this?

This you paid quite the attention to.

Your uncle had decided to buy you and Benedict a house as a wedding gift. You hadn’t gotten to see it before because it was being made ready but your aunt had assured you that it was to your liking, and to Benedict’s no doubt. Apparently Benedict had a house in the countryside already and he was planning on buying one here as well before the wedding but your uncle had stopped him, stating it would be a present from him for a new beginning.

The carriage stopped and the coachman opened the door for you and helped you out, Teddy, your aunt and your maid following you. After thanking him, you raised your head to look at the house in front of you, an exhale leaving your lips.

It was so beautiful that for a moment you could do nothing but stare at the impressive building, frozen in your spot. It was large, larger than most of the houses in London but knowing your uncle that shouldn’t have been surprising. The huge windows meant inside the house would be well lit all over and the gate opening to the stone road that led to the house looked like it was polished to perfection. A footman rushed to open the gate and your aunt linked her arm through yours while Teddy ran ahead.

“Teddy, not so fast!” you called out but he didn’t even stop.

“I want to see the house!”

“I’ll keep an eye on him my lady,” Paula said and rushed after him to the house while your aunt took an excited breath.

“You will especially like what I’m about to show you,” she said as she pulled you to the step inside the gate but instead of going inside the house, she led you to right past it.

“Auntie, where are we going?”

“You will see!”

“But the entrance is—” you started but stopped talking as soon as you both reached the backyard.

The huge extravagant garden lying in front of you was absolutely breathtaking. The flowerbeds were full of colorful flowers, no doubt kept in pristine condition by the previous owner’s gardener and you turned your gaze to the beautiful greenhouse by the far end of the garden, across from the fountain by the gazebo.

It looked like something out of a fairytale.

“We chose this one not only for the house but for the garden as well!” she said, turning to look at you better. “A garden of your own and a greenhouse! Do you like it?”

You could feel the burning behind your eyes as well as the slight pinch on the bridge of your nose, a sure sign of the tears. In truth, this was beyond everything you had dreamt or hoped for when you imagined your future, that was why it was nearly a torment to see such a beautiful vision and knowing you wouldn’t get to make it yours no matter how much you wanted to.

You couldn’t keep a garden and live in fear that Benedict could take it away from you whenever he saw it fit.

“It’s so beautiful,” you managed to say before you wrapped your arms around her and pulled her into a hug to hide your face. She patted your back gently, holding you tight before pulling back to cup your face.

“I hope your marriage will be filled with nothing but bliss,” she said. “And that you and your husband will be incredibly happy here.”

Your husband.

Right.

You blinked back the tears and smiled at her.

“I’m certain we will,” you lied and she let out a happy laugh.

“Wonderful!” she said and pulled you by the hand. “Let me show you the house!”

The house itself was as gorgeous as the outside. With its high ceilings, spacious hallways and well-lit rooms, it was as if someone wanted to make sure anyone who stepped inside would never feel smothered by the walls, instead would feel as free as one would outside. You could already hear Teddy running wild in the hallway and your aunt talking to Paula while you leaned sideways to the window frame, keeping your eyes on the garden.

It looked like a painting, almost.

The knock on the doorframe made you snap out of your thoughts and you looked over your shoulder.

“Benedict?”

“Good afternoon,” he said, his soft smile making your heart skip a beat. “I hope you do not mind, your aunt invited me.”

“Of course she did,” you said, that familiar tension making its way through your veins again but you managed to ignore it. “Have you had the chance to look around?”

He nodded his head. 

“I have,” he said. “Is it to your liking?”

You opened your mouth to say yes, then stopped yourself and shrugged your shoulders, crossing your arms. 

“To yours?”

“It is actually,” he said. “Did you see the garden yet?”

Your eyes flickered over his handsome face and you shrugged your shoulders again.

“I did,” you said. “Which side do you want by the way?”

He seemed confused at your question. “What?”

You motioned around. “The house,” you said. “Which side would you prefer? I think the east side has better light for your work, but it doesn’t matter to me really.”

A frown pulled at his brows. “We’re—we’re dividing the house?”

“Well not dividing,” you said. “At least not literally but I figured it would be easier for…us both.”

“Easier?” he asked but before you could come up with an answer, you heard Teddy’s footsteps coming closer.

“I saw a butterfly—” he stopped talking when he saw Benedict, his face pinching in a frown. He made his way to you, shy all of a sudden now that you weren’t surrounded by people like you had been back at dinner. You knew he would be distant with Benedict after learning you would be marrying him, and you squeezed at his shoulder in an assuring way while he half hid behind your skirts.

“Hello Teddy,” Benedict said, kneeling down to get to his level. “You saw a butterfly?”

Teddy nodded quietly, biting on his nail.

“What was it like?”

Teddy paused, then shrugged his shoulders in silence. Benedict looked around the room, then tilted his head.

“What do you think about the house?”

“’s nice.” Teddy mumbled inaudibly, still hesitant to answer and Benedict hummed.

“Have you picked your room yet?”

That managed to get a reaction from Teddy as he gasped, looking up at you. “My room?”

You stared at Benedict, then cleared your throat. “Teddy…”

“I get a room?!” he asked, excitement laced in his voice and he darted before you could even say anything. “Auntie! Auntie I’ll have a room here, did you know that?!”

You dragged the tip of your tongue over your lip and turned to Benedict. “You shouldn’t have said that.”

“Why? Surely he will need a room especially if he’s staying with—”

“He’s not staying with us,” you cut him off, making him frown.

“Why not?”

Because you didn’t want to risk it. You had grown up watching your mother and father and you had seen what happened numerous times when there was a fight. Teddy staying with your uncle and aunt was going to be better for him, at least you trusted them.

Not to mention it would be safer for him. If Benedict got angry and wanted to take it out on the nearest person like your father used to—

You couldn’t let that happen, not to Teddy.

“Mr. Bridgerton, welcome!” your aunt’s voice reached you both, making you turn to her and Benedict bowed his head.

“Lady Thorne.”

“Now that both of you are here, I can finally show you the bedchambers!”

You gawked at her. “Pardon?”

“Come come!” she said and you both followed her down the hallway until she turned a corner and opened a door.

“Here are your bedchambers,” she said with a smile while you stared at the huge four-poster bed. “And Y/N, the cojoined lady’s room we can turn into a close for you! Or a studio for Mr. Bridgerton.”

Oh.

Oh you were to—

Right. Of course you were expected to sleep together, or at least spend some nights in the same bed for the… nightly activities of marriage.

You could feel the fear crashing down on you but you managed to swallow the lump growing bigger in your throat, biting on your tongue to focus. If it were any other time you would’ve thought the room looked even lovelier than your current room, but now all it looked like was a threat of the days to come. Benedict’s gaze stopped on you while you clenched and unclenched your hand, twisting your wrist subtly.

“Or a nursery if you wish but the actual nursery is the room over there—”

“I’ll go and check the kitchen,” you cut her off, the panic roaring through your veins like wildfire as you walked past Benedict, and rushed downstairs.

It didn’t take you that long to find it, probably because the layout was a bit similar to your uncle’s house, at least when it came to floor plan. You entered the empty kitchen and went to the table to pull yourself a seat, then slumped down on it, your heart still beating in your ears.

It was going to be unpleasant yes, but it wasn’t as if you didn’t know it before. You knew what was to take place on your wedding night and throughout your marriage but at least Benedict already had mistresses so perhaps it wouldn’t take place very often.

You rubbed at your wrist, thoughts swirling in your mind but then raised your head when you heard Benedict entering the kitchen.

“May I?” he motioned at the chair across from you and scoffed a laugh.

“By all means. It’s your house.”

“Our house.”

You clicked your tongue. “My name isn’t on it,” you stated as he sat down.

“Listen—”

“I was thinking—” you both said at the same time and Benedict motioned at you.

“You first.”

You could feel your heart leaping to your throat in nervousness but you swallowed thickly, then ran your nail over the wooden table.

“I would like to have my own room,” you said after a beat and he nodded.

“Of course,” he said. “However you like.”

“And I want to go back to it or for you to go back to yours if it takes place in my room, after we’re done.”

He frowned slightly like he didn’t understand. “After we’re done?”

You nibbled on your lip, still dragging your nail over the wood.

“I know what’s expected of me,” you managed to say, your voice very clear and not shaky by some miracle. “At night. And I will comply with those expectations but I’d—”

“Y/N,” he stopped you and let out a breath of disbelief, shaking his head. “Nothing is expected of you.“

You rolled your eyes and looked up at him. “We’re having a serious conversation here.”

“Do I look to be jesting?” he asked and you paused for a moment, then sat up straighter.

“Assuming you’re going to keep your mistresses after the wedding…”

“I don’t have any mistresses and I will not keep one,” he said. “Do you really think—”

“You can though,” you stated, making him pull back slightly. For some reason, a pang of pain spread through your chest but you paid no mind to it. “Whatever your prior arrangements were, as long as they’re discreet for the sake of appearances I will not mind. Besides I’d—”

You paused for a moment, nervousness getting the words stuck in your throat but you took a deep breath.

“With you and me, I’d like it if it wasn’t very…often. Aside from our duty of course.”

A silence fell upon the kitchen while he stared at you and you waited with bated breath, your face growing hotter every second. The panic was slowly climbing up your chest and before you knew it, you found yourself unnecessarily explaining the situation.

“Because I know it’s usually unpleasant for—you know, I’m aware that it’s just usually unpleasant for women even in the instances both sides try to make it so. No need for us to try when you already have a working arrangement with others.”

A look of realization dawned on his face, making you pull your brows together and he cleared his throat before clasping his hands over the table, the perfect picture of decorum. His hands were so close to yours that if you moved your fingers just a little you would be able to touch his hand and feel if they were as warm as you remembered. The sudden desire twitched your fingers but you curled them and dug your fingernails into your palm, forcing yourself to focus.

“I will not touch you unless you want me to,” he said, his calm voice snapping you out of your thoughts. “I swear on my honor, nothing is expected of you and you have no duty to fulfill.”

Your frown deepened as you tried to wrap your mind around it.

“And,” he said, a cocky smile curling his lips slightly. “If the time ever comes and you decide you do want me to touch you, I can assure you I will do a better job at it than some incompetent prick who convinced you it was supposed to be unpleasant for you.”

That simple promise wasn’t supposed to send tingles right between your legs and your eyes snapped up at his before confusion hit you, making you tilt your head.

“Wait, what?”

“Whoever that clumsy idiot was,” he said. “He clearly lied to you.”

You blinked a couple of times. “You think I’ve been with someone before?”

He shot you a knowing look. “You really don’t need to do that, I would never think any less of you. I’m guessing it was before you came to London? Was he a friend or something?”

You would have laughed if you weren’t so tense.

“He was nonexistent?” you said after a beat. “I’ve never been with anyone.”

That seemed to take him by surprise, and he pulled back a little, his mouth slightly agape.

“You’re…” he trailed off, still staring at you. “Oh.”

You frowned. “Why are you so surprised by that?”

“I’m not!” he said defensively and your jaw dropped.

“Yes you are!”

“No I just thought—” he motioned at you. “You make a lot of jokes about it.”

“So?”

“So I assumed,” he paused. “Well, Charlie doesn’t even know about it.”

A scoff left your lips. “And whose fault is that?”

“Not mine, clearly!” he insisted. “I just assumed since you kept making innuendos and you obviously know what it is…”

“I also know a lot about cacti Benedict,” you whispered through your teeth, your voice heated. “It doesn’t make me a goddamn cactus!”

“It’s different—”

“Wait a second,” you cut him off and he ran a hand through his hair, making it fluffier.

“Hm?”

“You were going to marry me even if you thought I…” you tried to find the words but failed miserably. “Even if you thought I haven’t remained chaste?”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“I haven’t remained chaste,” he pointed out with a small grin. “In case it has escaped your notice.”

“It hasn’t escaped anyone’s notice,” you deadpanned, trying to hold back the sudden laughter bubbling in your chest and his grin widened.

“So why would it change anything?”

You could feel the warmth filling your chest and you nibbled on your lip, but before you could say anything, you heard footsteps coming closer and your aunt leaned on the doorframe.

“What is it with you two and this unstoppable insistence on being unchaperoned?” she asked as Benedict winked at you, making you roll your eyes while a small smile pulled at your lips. “Come on. We still have much to do.”

As it turned out, your aunt had another surprise for you. After you and Benedict got in the separate carriages to go to your separate ways, you realized it wasn’t the way to your home but your aunt refused to tell you where you were going.

It was only when the carriage stopped in front of a very familiar shop that you realized what it was and your heart dropped to your stomach.

“What on earth?”

“Surprise!” your aunt said and turned to Teddy. “My dear, Paula will take you to that pastry shop over there while you wait for us, alright?”

“Yes!” Teddy grinned while you turned to your aunt.

“Auntie…”

“We’re going to choose designs for your wedding gown, and who is better than Madame Delacroix to give you the perfect wedding gown?”

Anyone.

Anyone at all, you were half tempted to stop a random person on the street if it meant it wouldn’t be Madame Delacroix who would make your wedding gown. She and Benedict had been together up until your very sudden betrothal, and you weren’t even sure if that was still happening.

Even the thought of it made your throat burn for some reason.

It wasn’t within your plans to have your wedding gown made by your future husband’s former -and perhaps current- mistress, but it wasn’t as if you could tell your aunt about it.

“Lady Bridgerton is already there!”

Oh dear God.

You wondered if you could just trip on your way down from carriage to fake a sprained ankle just so that you could avoid this very moment, but before you could even do that, Paula and Teddy had already left the carriage to go to the pastry shop and your aunt pulled you out of the carriage and essentially pushed you into the store before you could protest.

“Sweetheart!” Lady Bridgerton said, standing up from the sofa to come and hug you. “Ah how beautiful you look!”

“Lady Bridgerton,” you managed to say. “What a lovely surprise. Good afternoon.”

She pulled back to smile at you, clasping your hands in hers.

“I hope you do not mind the intrusion, but your aunt says you were quite hesitant about your wedding gown,” she said. “So she and I will help you.”

“…Wonderful,” you said after a beat and Madame Delacroix came closer to you.

“Miss Y/N,” she said silkily, “Welcome. Congratulations on your engagement.”

You forced yourself to smile and gulped down. “Thank you, Madame Delacroix,” you said. “You’re most kind.”

“Caroline have you seen this silk?” Lady Bridgerton asked, pointing at a fabric before walking to the other side of the shop with your aunt following her, and you shifted your weight from one foot to other.

“If you could come with me,” Madame Delacroix said and led you to the counter where the sketchbook was open, full of different sketches of many wedding gowns. “We can make some arrangements if you’d like, these are just so that you can have some idea.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled, looking down at the sketches, silence falling upon you. You could still hear your aunt and Lady Bridgerton chatting happily and you absentmindedly turned a page, trailing your fingertips in a lazy manner until—

Until you saw it.

The gown itself looked like it was ethereal, with light tulle and white silk that almost looked liquid. Even though the design itself didn’t have any flowers, you could almost see how it would look if the skirts were embroidered with tiny blossoms along with small leaves over the bodice.

“That one?”

Madame Delacroix’s soft accent made you snap out of it and you scolded yourself in your head before you nodded, keeping your finger on it so that you wouldn’t miss it.

“Let me show you some options,” she said and walked behind the shop before she came out with three different shades of white silk, then laid them over the counter. You bit inside your cheek, guilt washing over you as you took one of the silks into your hand, then stole a look at her.

“I would like to offer you my apologies, Madame Delacroix.”

She raised her brows. “For what, ma chérie?”

“I think you know.”

A look of realization crossed her face but she managed to cover it quite fast.

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

“We have a common friend whom you know better than I do,” you said, then shook your head when you saw her expression. “I didn’t tell anyone. I would never, I assure you. I’m quite good with secrets.”

She cleared her throat. “Whatever you may have heard…”

“He didn’t tell me,” you added in a haste. “No one did, don’t worry. It doesn’t matter how I know, I just—”

She watched you in a silence and you cleared your throat, then motioned around.

“This wasn’t my idea,” you said. “I recognize this visit may come off as rubbing salt in the wound or tantalizing but I honestly wasn’t aware my aunt and his mother were planning on it until just now.”

She pursed her lips, but stayed quiet.

“I recognize how difficult it might be,” you said. “And if you wish, I can just tell them I want to hire someone else for this.”

She tilted her head. “And why would you do that for me?”

You shrugged your shoulders, then heaved a sigh.

“It wasn’t my intention to—” you paused for a moment, then let out a bitter chuckle. “Despite what Lady Whistledown might suggest, it was never my intention to steal him or get in the way of a certain…arrangement, whatever it may be. So I would like to offer my apologies if I accidentally did such a thing.”

She looked almost taken aback by your words but before she could say anything, Lady Bridgerton came closer.

“Did you find anything you liked, dearest?”

You paused for a second, then cleared your throat. “Actually Lady Bridgerton, I’d rather hire—”

“Miss Y/N liked a very beautiful design,” Madame Delacroix cut you off, making you turn to her. “And I’d love to make it for her.”

You blinked a couple of times, then offered her a smile.

“…Thank you,” you said and she smiled back before you turned to Lady Bridgerton. “And yes. I found a design I love.”

Thankfully most of the ton was convinced of your sudden love story with Benedict, especially after the last ball. Even Lady Whistledown had claimed Benedict’s love must have melted your ice on her last piece and it was obvious while people would be watching you very closely, they believed your ruse.

It was probably more about Benedict and less about you though. He had been so convincing that multiple ladies had come to talk to you and tell you how lucky you were throughout the night.

So you had a feeling this ball wasn’t going to be so different but that did nothing to soothe that nervousness in you.

Benedict was just writing his name on Charlotte’s dance card for a dance when you got to the ballroom with your aunt, and Lottie waved at you before she said something to Lady Bridgerton and Lady Danbury who were with them.

“I was beginning to wonder where you were,” Benedict said as you reached them and pressed a kiss on your gloved hand, making you smile at him while Lady Danbury and Lady Bridgerton exchanged glances, grinning. Your aunt pressed a hand over her chest, obviously emotional.

“Last minute gown issue,” you said as you grabbed a lemonade from the tray a footman was carrying. “Good evening Lady Danbury. Lady Bridgerton.”

“Good evening dear.”

“What was wrong with your gown?” Lottie asked and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Oh, long story.”

“Speaking of gowns…” Lady Bridgerton said and your aunt chuckled.

“I’m so excited about that, you’d think it’s my wedding.”

Charlotte looked from you to your aunt and Lady Danbury snapped her fingers.

“Oh I forgot you were doing that today!” she said. “Violet told me. When do we get to see it?”

“See what?” Charlotte asked and you cleared your throat.

“I would’ve told you beforehand if I knew.”

“Knew what?” Benedict asked, making Lady Bridgerton turn to him.

“Well I kept it a secret from you as well Benedict, because I knew you would tell her,” she said with a smile, “We surprised your betrothed today.”

“With what?”

You looked down at your drink, discomfort hitting you all of a sudden but Lady Bridgerton didn’t notice.

“We took Y/N to the modiste so that she could choose her wedding gown.”

It was apparently a bad idea for Benedict to have been sipping his drink when he heard that, because he choked on his drink and started coughing, making Charlotte slap his back, completely oblivious.

“Oh I would love to come to the next fitting!”

“You did what?” Benedict asked when he could get enough air and you raised your brows, then nodded your head.

“It surely was a surprise when the carriage stopped there,” you managed to say and Benedict swallowed thickly.

“I can imagine.”

“Perhaps you can join the next time—”

“That’s not a good idea auntie,” you cut her off and Charlotte held her breath.

“Of course, he is not allowed to see it before the wedding!” she said and turned to Benedict. “It’s bad luck, everyone knows.”

You and Benedict exchanged glances and Lady Danbury smiled.

“But we can, right?”

“…Of course,” you said as the music started and Charlotte turned her head.

“It’s our turn, come on,” she said and put her hand on his arm, then pulled him to the dance floor.

“It’ll be so beautiful,” your aunt told Lady Danbury, “She’s having some changes made on the original sketch, I cannot wait to see the final product.”

“Flowers and leaves,” Lady Bridgerton said and you reminded yourself to smile.

“Excuse me for a moment please,” you said and made your way out of the ballroom into the hallway just so that you could get away from the chaos there. You ran your hand over the white hydrangeas in the vase on the small table as you approached the nearest painting, and tilted your head, staring at the brush strokes.

Benedict’s art was better.

You rubbed at your forehead, a sigh leaving your lips as you willed yourself to focus on anything but the storm of thoughts in your head. Today had been extremely tiring for you, and you couldn’t help but wonder if Benedict still had feelings for Madame Delacroix or if he and she ever—

“Look who it is,” a voice interrupted your thoughts, making you turn your head but as soon as you saw who it was, you rolled your eyes, a small groan leaving your lips.

Exactly what the situation needed.

A conversation with Kitty Morris.

“What?” you asked tersely and she scoffed.

“Oh dear, what they say about you is true. You must’ve been raised by wolves.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Yes it’s true. What do you want?”

She took a look at the painting before she stepped closer. “I just wanted to congratulate you on your engagement.”

“Right,” you muttered. “Much appreciated.”

“Quite a hasty engagement though,” she said. “People have all sorts of ideas about the reason.”

“Like what?”

“My friends say that you trapped him,” she said with her nose up in the air. “With what, I do not dare assume.”

You arched a brow. “Do you not?”

“I can assume the reason, not the act,” she said. “Some of us were raised as ladies.”

You clicked your tongue, anger starting to burn at the pit of your stomach.

“And what is the reason, pray tell?”

“You knew he would never think anything serious with you unless you forced him,” she said. “I mean, he didn’t even think anything serious with Charlotte while leading her on for two years let alone someone like you.”

Your eyes sharpened like a cat’s but you forced yourself not to take the bait. Fighting over a man was absolutely beneath you, you weren’t going to do it just because she was trying to start a verbal fight.

You had to draw the line somewhere.

“Go deal with whatever is bothering you on your own, I’m not going to hold your hand through it,” you said as you took a step, but stopped dead in your tracks when you heard her speak again.

“He was never going to marry you,” she called out. “Unless you trapped him. You grew up poor for God’s sake, if it weren’t for your uncle you would be on the streets where you belong. Everyone knows that, they say even your parents didn’t want you. Why would someone like Benedict Bridgerton want to be married to you?”

…Very well.

Fighting over a man was beneath you but you could kneel down a little if she wanted to go there.

You threw your shoulders back and turned around.

“And you think if it weren’t for me, he was going to marry you?”

“Obviously,” she said. “That’s why you sabotaged it the moment he started taking interest in me. It was clear he was going to propose to me, everyone knows that.”

You hummed and pointed at the ballroom with your thumb. “Why don’t you go ahead and ask him then?”

She pulled back slightly. “What?”

“Go ask him if he wants to marry you instead of me,” you said. “He’s in the ballroom, the dance is probably over. He’s not busy.”

She looked at a loss for words and you tilted your head.

“No?” you asked. “Fine, I can go ask him if you’d like.”

You took a couple of steps towards the ballroom but she rushed to get in front of you.

“You will do no such thing!” she demanded and you let out a small laugh.

“Why not?” you asked. “If he wants to marry you, I will not stand in your way. We can break the engagement tonight in front of the whole ton.”

“If you think that’s acceptable—”

“I did ask him about you by the way,” you cut her off “Once. Whether he would propose to you after you and your friends kept whispering about it right behind me. Do you want to hear what he said?”

She glared at you. “You’re lying.”

“Benedict is too polite to break people’s delusions,” you stated. “I don’t have that issue. So I’m not lying, I’ll tell you what he said if you want to hear it.”

A silence fell upon you and you raised your brows.

“I suppose not,” you pointed out. “Alright then. I will go back to my betrothed now if you don’t mind so if you could step aside?”

She raised her chin defiantly, crossing her arms as if she dared you to and you smirked.

“Kitty,” you warned her in a completely calm manner. “You will not like it if I make you. Step aside.”

She gritted her teeth and looked you up and down.

“It doesn’t surprise me the whole ton is shocked by your engagement, not just me,” she spat, fury apparent in her tone. “Your less than favorable background is apparent all over you, regardless of what expensive gown they put you in. No wonder we’re all surprised.”

You shrugged your shoulders.

“Maybe,” you said airily. “Whether you find it surprising or not doesn’t really change the outcome though.”

“The outcome?”

You smiled, then nodded in the direction of the ballroom.

“That one is mine,” you said, barely aware of the pride laced in your voice. “And he’s in love with me. Go find your own.”

She took a step back, her eyes gleaming with frustrated tears and you sipped your drink.

“And show some composure, will you?” you asked. “People will think you were raised by wolves.”

She paused for only a moment before a sob escaped from her and she rushed past you to go outside, leaving you there. You scoffed a laugh and shook your head.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered to yourself and downed your lemonade, then made your way back to the ballroom.

Chapter Text

You had to admit, planning a wedding that was caused by a scandal was already quite difficult as you knew it would be, but pretending to be in love and having to convince others around you of your excitement for the said wedding was more difficult than you had assumed it would be.

And the fact that you were having your wedding gown made by your future husband’s former mistress was not even in the top ten reasons why this was so damn stressful. 

The wedding was in a week, and your nightmares had come back with their full force, waking you up gasping every night.

At least everyone else was excited though.

Your uncle was in his study, no doubt going over some papers, and Teddy was in one of the rooms, studying math with his tutor. You had left your aunt in the drawing room going over the list of the last-minute guests to the wedding breakfast an hour ago. To be honest, you weren’t even sure she noticed your absence considering how stressed she was about the wedding.

Well, you were more stressed out about what would happen after the wedding.

You shook your head slightly, forcing yourself to push the thoughts away. Snipping what seemed to be a wilting leaf of the rose in front of you, you huffed out a breath and leaned in to look at the stem closer in case you were missing anything, but then you heard your aunt clear her throat behind you.

“Auntie, I swear I do not care who comes to the wedding breakfast,” you said, your whole attention still on the rose. “You can invite whoever you want. Every guest will attend that thing for you or the Bridgertons anyway, not me.”

“Eh,” a familiar voice said. “Not every guest.”

Your head shot up and you dropped the shears, then jumped on your feet and whirled around, a breath leaving your lips. She looked exactly as you remembered her, as if it had been merely three days instead of over three years.

“Josie?” you whispered and she leaned on her hip.

“I look away for one moment and you fall in love?”

“Oh my God!” you exclaimed, flinging yourself to her and she took a step back as soon as your body collided with hers but she hugged you tight, a small laugh escaping from her lips.

“I missed you too Clover.”

“You’re here?” you asked, still holding her tight and your aunt clapped her hands together.

“Oh this is so wonderful! Josie my dear, why did you not tell us you were coming?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” she said as she pulled back, then cupped your cheek to see you better. “You look amazing.”

“Don’t go anywhere, I’ll get Teddy!” your aunt said and rushed back into the house while you clasped Josie’s hand with yours.

“Are you here for the wedding?”

She grinned at you. “And afterwards,” she said. “I suppose you could say that I’m back, permanently.”

You pulled back slightly. “Josie what about—”

“Don’t worry,” she cut you off. “I can handle mother and father if they dare step wherever I am. Let’s not talk about them now.”

You couldn’t help but pull her into another hug, your eyes burning as she placed a kiss into your hair.

“Besides, my little sister is getting married,” she said. “I will kind of have to keep an eye on you.”

You let out a teary chuckle, then pulled back and nodded. “I am.”

“I have millions of questions.”

“All in due time. Where are Bess and Andrew?”

“They’re dealing with the houses.”

You frowned. “Houses?”

“Yes well, Andrew inherited a house down the street where we’ll live, and Bess’ late husband had a house here as well, she owns it now,” she said. “They’ll hire the staff and everything, they will join us later on. They both missed you.”

“I missed them too!” you said. “And is everything alright?”

“More than alright,” she said. “Everything has been amazing lately, aside from you giving me a heart attack. What kind of a letter was that?”

“Well how was I supposed to—” you started but stopped talking when you saw your aunt enter the garden with Teddy and Josie followed your gaze, then turned around.

Teddy looked a bit shy as he approached you two, still holding your aunt’s hand, his other hand by his mouth so that he could bite at his nail. Josie gasped, her jaw dropping as Teddy and your aunt reached you, and she let go of his hand, gently nudging him forward.

“Go on,” she said in a soft voice and Teddy cleared his throat, then looked up at Josie.

“Hello, I’m Teddy.”

A small sob climbed up Josie’s throat and she sniffled, her eyes fixed on him. She opened her mouth but no voice came out, so she took a deep breath and tried again.

“Hello Teddy,” she said. “Do you remember me?”

Teddy thought for a moment, then shook his head.

“But I know you’re Josie,” he added in a haste. “You sent me letters. Y/N read them to me.”

“Dear God you grew up so much…” Josie whispered as she crouched down to get to his level. “You were a baby when I last saw you.”

Teddy looked at you as if asking for your help with how to answer that, and you motioned at him to come over. He rushed to you, half hiding behind your skirt and you fixed his hair.

“See, I told you she would come back,” you said softly and Teddy tilted his head.

“Will you stay?” he asked her and Josie wiped at her eyes, then smiled.

“I will.”

“Here?”

“Very close to here,” she said. “And you can come and stay with me whenever you want.”

Teddy stole a look at you again, waiting for your permission and you nodded fervently.

“Should be fun, no?” you asked him. “This way you will have three rooms Teddy. Here, my house and Josie’s house.”

Teddy bit inside his cheek. “Can I put my toys there too?”

“Well yes, but if you want we can buy you new toys as well,” Josie said, making him smile wide.

“Really?”

“Oh yes. Different toys for different houses, it only makes sense.”

Your aunt let out a laugh at the sight of pure excitement on Teddy’s face and you ruffled his hair. Teddy paused for a moment, then shifted his weight.

“Is it okay if I don’t really remember you though?”

Josie took a deep breath, then nodded.

“It’s alright,” she said. “It just means we will make new memories, hm?”

Teddy grinned and hugged your legs sideways. “Uh huh. Can Y/N come to your house too?”

“We’ll see,” Josie winked at you, making your jaw drop.

“Oh I see how it is,” you said with a laugh. “I knew you were lying when you said you missed me.”

“I did miss you but Teddy is much cuter than you.”

“She’s cute too!” Teddy protested, still hugging you tight and you leaned down to press a kiss on top of his head.

“She’s joking Teddy,” you said. “Of course I’ll be there.”

Your aunt fanned her face with her hand. “Oh dear God, I feel emotional…” she said, sniffling. “All of you together and happy, just as it was always supposed to be.”  

“Took us long enough,” Josie said, still smiling and you heaved a sigh.

“It really did.”

Your aunt clapped her hands together.

“Josie, come with me,” she said. “Your uncle will lose his mind when he sees you!”

It felt almost surreal that Josie was here with you after years, and that she would stay. You were so happy that you couldn’t even sit still and by the time she was done talking to your uncle and aunt and sent Teddy to his tutor so that he could continue his lesson, you were almost buzzing with anticipation.

“So,” she said as she came to plop down on the bench next to you. “It is very clear that I have much to hear.”

“So do I,” you said. “How are Bess and Andrew?”

“They’re as you left them but you are not,” she said. “Clover. Come on, tell me.”

You cleared your throat and sat up straighter. “I’m getting married.”

“I know,” she said. “What I’m wondering is how it came to be.”

“Fate.”

“Y/N.”

Heaving a sigh, you leaned back on the bench, resting your elbows on the marble as you looked up at the sky with narrowed eyes, enjoying the warm sunlight on your skin.

“Is he forcing you?”

You turned to her and shook your head. “Of course not.”

In a way it was true. Benedict wasn’t forcing you into anything, he was being forced into this as much as you were.

But you couldn’t tell her that. She had just returned to the country and you didn’t want her to be worried about you or your upcoming marriage. You knew her, she would stop at nothing if she so much as heard an implication that you did not want this wedding.

“Benedict is not like that,” you added in a haste and she tilted her head.

“Is it love then?”

And this right there was where it got tricky.

Josie was the one person who knew you the best, and she would see right through you if you tried to lie to her. It had been that way since you were little, and just a couple years apart didn’t change that, so instead of outright lying to her, you were going to have to bend the truth a little by telling her only a part of it.

“It’s something,” you ended up saying and she scoffed a laugh.

“Come on,” she insisted. “You can tell me whatever it is, you know I would never say anything to anyone. And if you happened to fall in love—”

“I’m too smart to fall in love,” you cut her off and she raised her brows.

“Alright,” she said with an amused smile on her face. “What is it?”

“Not love,” you said, “Out of question.”

“Fine, then what?” she insisted. “Why are you marrying him? Letter after letter you wrote how he annoyed you, how you couldn’t stand him and all of a sudden you woke up a changed woman—”

“It’s not the emotional aspect,” you cut her off. “It’s physical.”

Which wasn’t a lie at all.

You did not believe in love for yourself at least, but you knew very well that desire existed. That fire that burned through you when he had kissed you, the way your fingers almost twitched to at least touch him whenever he was around you, it all signaled the same thing. You weren’t blind, you were aware of just how attractive he was and that he was quite…skilled in matters of intimacy if his kiss was anything to go by.

Josie pulled back slightly to see you better. “Pardon?”

You rolled your eyes at her. “Don’t pretend you do not know what I speak of—”

“I know very well what you speak of,” she tried to suppress a smirk. “What did you two do?”

You shot her a lighthearted glare. “Not that.”

“But whatever it was, it was enough for you to accept his proposal?” she asked and took a deep breath. “Clover I’m glad you enjoyed what took place but you cannot build a life on desire alone—”

“It’s not just that,” the words left your mouth before you had a chance to stop them. “Besides, I’ve made my decision. I’m not going to change my mind no matter what you say.”

She held up her hands, gesturing surrender.

“Just answer me this,” she said. “Do you only enjoy his presence when it’s a moment of desire?”

You pulled your brows together.

“I um…” you trailed off. “I like his presence in other times as well, not just then.”

She tilted her head, watching you in silence as you sat up straighter, fixing your hair.

“Benedict is interesting,” you ended up saying. “I do not get bored at all when he is around, and being around him makes me feel—”

Happy.

Being around him made you feel happy. It was almost easy to slip into that warm, fuzzy comfort and finding yourself smiling even if you tried your hardest to focus on what could happen at any moment.

But it just meant that desire you felt for him was clouding your judgement, and you knew you couldn’t let that happen.

“I want him to be around me,” you said and Josie’s lips pulled into a sly smile.

“I see,” she said after a beat. “And when do I get to meet this infamous betrothed of yours?”

“Whenever you want,” you said. “Lottie said they’re all going to have a picnic by the park so we can go as well if you’d like?”

“Lottie?”

“My best friend.”

“You’ve made a friend?” Josie asked and your jaw dropped.

“Why do you sound so shocked?”

“You’re not very friendly.”

“And you are?”

Josie shrugged her shoulders. “No but I can hide it,” she said. “Unlike you.”

“Fair,” you said. “She was Benedict’s friend first by the way. Then she decided we would be friends and I kind of followed her lead.”

She let out a laugh and stood up, then pulled you up by the hand and threw an arm over your shoulder.

“Come on then,” she said. “Let’s go meet Bess and Andrew first, then we can all go by the park.”

Even though it had been years since you had last talked to Bess and Andrew, it still felt like yesterday. You had always liked them, and Andrew’s marriage to Josie was the perfect arrangement for all parties involved. Bess was Andrew’s cousin and the love of Josie’s life, and Andrew only desired gentlemen and not ladies, so marriage was a formality that worked out for all of them.

You were sure the ton would be clueless to the reality behind closed doors.

It had taken you almost two hours to catch up with what had happened while they were in Spain, and after that you all had decided to go by the park. As Lottie said, she and her family were there and though there was no sign of Bridgertons yet, Lottie had told you they would be there soon.

It came as a surprise to no one that about five minutes after they had met Lottie, they were all smitten by her. Even Josie who was always politely distant with everyone seemed to love her and had assured her that she wasn’t even interested in being a bridesmaid let alone the maid of honor. Soon enough though, her mother had called her to keep an eye on her siblings so she had to leave you four there, promising she would be back soon.

“You know, I have to admit I did miss here a bit,” Andrew said as he laid on his back, looking up at the sky with his hands clasped under his head. “Spain is nice and all, but there’s no place like home.”  

Bess tilted her head.

“You hate the ton.”

“Don’t we all?” he asked and you held up your hand.

“I’m right with you on that.”

“Thank you, my dear sister-in-law,” Andrew said with a smile. “You’re getting married at a perfect time by the way. I needed to get away from my former lover.”

“Was it that bad?” you asked and Josie scoffed.

“It was very explosive.”

“No it wasn’t!”

“Yes it was!” Josie and Bess said at the same time and Andrew rolled his eyes.

“You challenge someone to a duel one time during a lovers’ quarrel and all of a sudden your whole liaison is explosive, unbelievable…” he grumbled as he sat up and Bess repressed a laugh.

“How about you Clover?” she asked. “What of your betrothal? Tell us more about him, we barely know anything!”

“Oh he’s—” you started but as soon as the sight of Benedict caught your eye, you stopped talking. “That’s him.”

Andrew and Bess followed your line of sight while Josie looked over her shoulder and turned around, and Andrew raised his brows as if he was impressed.

“There is the answer to your question Jo,” he told Josie. “You were wondering why she changed her mind about marriage right? It’s because he looks like that.”

You gently kicked at his foot. “Shut it.”

“He looks like that and he’s an artist?” Bess asked and you nodded, trying to ignore the warmth of pride in your chest.

“Mm hm.”

“Well done,” Andrew winked at you and Josie clicked her tongue.

“Now our earlier conversation makes sense,” she said. “You really are a cliché.”

“Josie!” Bess scolded her lightheartedly. “Don’t listen to her, please. We’re all very happy for you!”

“I’ll uh—I’ll get him here,” you said as you stood up, then made your way to Benedict who was talking with Colin while Anthony made his way to Charlotte to greet her.

“Y/N,” Benedict said, a smile warming his handsome face and you cleared your throat.

“Hello,” you said. “I need to borrow you for a moment.”

“Sure, why?”

“To meet my family,” you said and motioned between you. “Since, well—since we’re getting married, it’s kind of necessary.”

Benedict tilted his head. “I already met your family?”

“Some of them yes,” you said, snapping your fingers. “But my sister is back.”

Benedict’s eyes widened. “Oh? Of course, I’d love to meet her.”

“She’s over there with her husband and her…best friend,” you pointed back with your thumb and both Benedict and Colin followed your line of sight to see Andrew waving at them while Josie narrowed her eyes into a glare.

“Is she nice or is she more like you?” Colin asked and you gasped in an exaggerated manner.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Colin,” Benedict warned through his teeth and he shrugged.

“What?” he asked and motioned at you. “We’re going to be family, should I lie to family?”

You curled your lips. “Now that you mention it, I have always been the nice one between the two of us.”

Benedict gawked at you in silence for a couple of seconds, then took a deep breath.

“Oh this is how I die then,” he said and turned to Colin. “Promise me you will make sure people see my paintings after my death.”

“Sure but I’ll put my name under those paintings.”

“Do you want to join us?” you asked Colin and he shook his head.

“As much as I’d love to watch this, I promised Pen I would find her,” he said and slapped Benedict on the back. “You’ve had a good life brother.”

“And apparently a very short one,” Benedict deadpanned as Colin walked away and you shot him a lighthearted glare, trying to repress your laugh.

“I’ll make sure Colin doesn’t write his name under your works if you do die,” you pointed out and Benedict nodded his head.

“Much obliged—you were jesting, were you not?” he asked. “About you being the nice one?”

“Not at all,” you said. “Josie can seem a bit intimidating sometimes.”

“Does she have a knife as well?”

“Yes, the knife is hereditary.”

He tilted his head to the side. “You realize that in order for you to be a widow we have to be married first?”

You pursed your lips, still trying to control the laughter threatening to climb up your throat.

“I thought artists liked suffering,” you said. “Everyone keeps saying that makes your art better.“

“I wouldn’t call myself an artist yet.”

“I would,” you said and a small smile warmed his face before he cleared his throat.

“Do you have any tips on how to charm her to get her approval?”

“Her approval barely makes any difference, we’re already engaged,” you said. “Besides you could charm a goddamn rock apparently, you’ll be fine.”

He repressed a proud grin.

“Well it’s still important,” he said, stealing another look at her. “Especially since it looks like she doesn’t like me already.”

“What, a glare? That’s nothing,” you said with a scoff. “Trust me, you’ll know if she doesn’t like you.”

He let out a noise of disagreement. “I won’t if she’s anything like you.”

You pulled your brows together. “I think people can tell whether I like them or not.”

“Not at all,” he said. “Half of the time I can’t tell whether you want to kiss me or kill me.”

Your heart skipped a beat but you forced yourself to roll your eyes, then started walking in Josie’s direction. He caught up with you almost effortlessly and you tried to ignore how your face was burning.

“See?”

“Shut up.”

“This is exactly what I was talking about—”

“She doesn’t know by the way,” you cut him off, desperate to change the subject. “The details of our…engagement.”

He raised his brows. “You didn’t tell her?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because if I did, Josie would certainly find a way to stop that wedding,” you pointed out. “And I’m not going to put my aunt and uncle through that.”

Benedict looked like he wanted to say something but you had already reached the tree under which Josie, Andrew and Bess were sitting under and they all stood up when you got there.

“Everyone, this is Benedict Bridgerton; my betrothed,” you told them. “Benedict, this is Josie; my sister. Lord Andrew Walcott, her husband and that’s Bess Hadfield, Andrew’s cousin and Josie’s best friend.”

“I’m honored.”

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Bess said and Andrew elbowed Josie to signal her to stop glaring at Benedict before offering him his hand, and Benedict shook it.

“Call me Andrew,” Andrew told him. “So you’re the man who made the impossible happen and got my sister-in-law to fall in love?”

Benedict smiled softly and nodded. “It was a surprise for me too.”

“Me as well,” you deadpanned and Josie clicked her tongue.

“I’ve heard you’re an artist, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Oh I wouldn’t call myself an actual artist yet—”

“People call you that,” Josie tilted her head. “Are they dishonest or are you just being humble?”

“Josie,” you said warningly and she shrugged her shoulders.

“What? I’m trying to get to know my future brother-in-law.”

“We will have all the time in the world to do it after the wedding,” Bess said in a haste before you could retort. “I can’t wait. So, have you two decided on where you will go on your honeymoon? Josie and Andrew went to France and I—they liked it a lot.”

“France is a great option.”

“We’ll stay here,” you and Benedict said at the same time and Andrew pulled his brows together. Josie crossed her arms, her whole focus on you and you felt your heart dropping to your stomach before you cleared your throat.

“We actually haven’t talked about it because of the excitement of the wedding, excuse us for just one moment,” you said and grabbed Benedict by the arm, then led him away from them even though you could feel their -and other people’s- eyes following your every move so you remembered to smile up at him.

“You want to stay here?” Benedict asked and you nodded.

“Uh huh.”

“You don’t want to go to France? Italy? Anywhere?”

You scoffed and shook your head. “I’d rather if we didn’t leave the country.”

“The countryside then?” Benedict suggested. “And that way you’d see the house as well, I can just write a letter to the staff there—”

“No,” the word left your lips as you felt the fear churning your stomach at the idea of being in a remote place with him alone. You knew he had promised you that nothing you didn’t want would take place in your wedding night or honeymoon but you still—

You still didn’t know whether he would change his mind or not.

“It’s just that I promised Teddy I wouldn’t disappear after the wedding just like Josie did,” you said in a haste. “And the season has just begun and it’s my first one so I’d like to see it through. Besides I’m pretty sure Duke Hastings will propose to Daphne soon so we cannot miss that, she’s your sister so it’s not like you can ride into sunset either. We should stay.”

Benedict’s brows furrowed.

“Oh,” he said. “London then?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I mean it’s not like we will see each other that often in the house either,” you said. “So it’s really not going to make any difference if we’re here or anywhere else.”

A sad light crossed Benedict’s gaze but it was gone as soon as it came.

“…Right,” he said. “I guess not.”

“And then you know, once the dust is settled you can visit France or Italy or wherever it is that you want,” you added quickly. “I’d still convince people that we’re in love, no worries.”

“Or you could come with me?” he offered. “Once the dust is settled?”

The idea felt tempting only for a moment before the fear hit you again, so you shook your head.

“I don’t think so,” you said and snapped your fingers. “But you could take Madame Delacroix with you? Or anyone else who you…have an arrangement with. I wouldn’t mind as long as it’s kept a secret from the ton.”

To be completely honest, even the thought of it was enough to bother you. Though you were quite certain you didn’t want to be alone with him in case he changed his mind about how your marriage would go, that bitter taste at the back of your throat was back upon imagining him with Madame Delacroix or anyone else for that matter.

Him kissing her, or—

No.

You were not going to do that to yourself.

A painful smile curled Benedict’s lips at your suggestion and he took a deep breath, then swallowed thickly.

“Yeah, who knows?” he said. “Let’s just get through this first, right? The wedding is next week and I’m sure your family has a lot of questions.”

Next week.

Right.

You nibbled on your lip, a nervous lump growing bigger and bigger in your throat but you managed to smile.

“Yeah,” you said and clicked your tongue. “Let’s pretend to be lovesick then.”

Chapter Text

All things considered, it shouldn’t have been a surprise that you couldn’t sleep the night before your wedding day.

It wasn’t as if you thought you’d be calm about it, but waking up gasping was not something you thought you could ever get used to. Everyone else except you was excited beyond words, but the only thing you could feel was pure, freezing fear.

But you had to keep it together. You knew you had to.

You needed to convince everyone that you were madly in love after all.

It felt as if you hadn’t stopped clenching your teeth since last night and your whole body was so tense that your muscles were starting to hurt. The skin on your palms was already irritated because of how hard you had been digging your fingernails into it, and that lump in your throat was getting bigger and bigger with each second, making it hard to swallow.

“Oh Benny is going to die when he sees you!” Charlotte’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you stole a look at her while trying to move your head as little as possible so that your maid could finish doing your hair soon. Josie and Bess were ready and Bess looked almost gleeful while Josie was in deep thought after having asked you multiple questions for the whole morning. You could hear your aunt rushing through the hallway every couple of minutes, no doubt panicking about something but so far, your uncle had managed to solve every tiny issue that made her nervous.

“Have you had a chance to talk to him?” you asked Charlotte and she shrugged her shoulders.

“Not today.”

“Yesterday?”

“Yes, he was very nervous,” Charlotte said. “I don’t think he sat down the whole time I was there, he was just pacing.”

“Oh that’s understandable,” Bess mused. “I’m sure he’s as excited as you are.”

“Probably,” you managed to say and Josie tilted her head as if she was trying to hear your thoughts but before she could say anything, your maid retrieved her hands from your hair.

“It’s finished my lady.”

A soft look crossed Josie’s gaze as you stood up and you walked to the full length mirror to see yourself better, your reflection making you pause for a moment.

The creamy white wedding gown looked absolutely beautiful, so beautiful that you could hardly believe it was in fact yours. The soft tulle over the silky skirts was embellished with small leaves scattered along the fabric and the bust was embroidered with tiny budding flowers, starting at the waist and carefully following the cleavage to the short sleeves. The thin crown over your head that held your veil back had the same shade of fresh flowers over it, and the whole outfit was so ethereal that it made you look like a lady from those nature poems, someone who belonged to sunlight and trees and flowers.

“You look so beautiful!” Bess said and Josie offered you a warm smile.

“You really do, Clover.”

“I feel very emotional already,” Charlotte said and you stole look at your maid.

“Thank you Paula,” you said and turned your head when someone knocked on the door in a haste.

“Can I see? Can I?” Teddy’s voice reached inside and you felt a smile pulling at your lips.

“Come in Teddy.”

The door opened and Teddy rushed inside, then his jaw dropped.

“You look so pretty!” he said and you crouched down to hug him.

“Thank you,” you said, fixing the collar of his jacket. “You look like a handsome gentleman, does he not Josie?”

“Oh absolutely,” Josie said and Teddy giggled.

“And you also look very pretty Miss Harlowe!” he said and Charlotte ruffled his hair.

“You’re the sweetest boy, Teddy.”

“Clover?” your uncle’s voice carried into the room before he appeared by the doorframe. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought you had seen a glint of tears in his eyes and he let out a breath.

“My dearest, you look absolutely stunning,” he said and pointed back with his thumb. “Your aunt seems to believe they will start the wedding without you if we don’t get to the chapel soon though.”

Your stomach did a painful flip. “Oh?” you asked. “I’m…I’m ready.”

Your uncle looked around the room and took his glasses out of the inner pocket of his waistcoat to clean it with his handkerchief, a habit that signaled he was deep in thought; you could recognize it by now.

“Can we have a moment please?” he asked and Josie nodded while Bess immediately stood up along with Charlotte. Teddy reached up to take Josie’s hand, making her smile wide as you gave the bouquet to Charlotte, and one by one everyone else left the room, leaving you there with your uncle.

“Marriage advice?” you asked, trying to ignore the lump lodging itself into your throat and he chuckled.

“Just making sure,” he said. “Are you certain you want this, Clover?”

No, you wanted to say. No I don’t want this, I am terrified, please, please get me away.

But instead of saying any of that, you willed a smile on your face and nodded. “I am.”

“And you have no second thoughts about this wedding?”

You shook your head this time, clasping your hands together behind you so that he wouldn’t see how hard you were clenching them.

“Not at all,” you managed to say. “I’m in love.”

His eyes searched yours before he held up his hands, gesturing surrender.

“Very well,” he said. “Then I’d say it’s time to go.”

“…Actually, can I have a second?” you asked after a beat. “I want to make sure I didn’t miss anything.”

“Of course, I’ll see you downstairs,” he said and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. As if on cue, a gasp got stuck in your throat and your legs finally gave out, making you fall on your knees. You clutched at your throat, forcing yourself to fix your breathing and closed your eyes for a moment, swallowing thickly.

“Pull it together,” you muttered to yourself, opening your eyes, and pushed yourself off your knees to stand up, then threw your shoulders back and walked out of the room.

The interesting thing about fear was that it basically turned you into a machine.

You were quite familiar with this. After all, back in that hellhole you called home, neither you nor Josie would ever lose yourselves in fear. It was like falling back into an old habit, no matter how much panic was rushing through your veins, you managed to keep your expression still and completely calm. For the whole road until the chapel, you could barely hear anything from the echo of your heartbeat in your ears but eventually you got to the destination and walked up the marble stairs into the church. While you waited for everyone from your family to be seated except your uncle who would be walking you down the aisle, you leaned back to the wall, biting inside your cheek.

“Are you alright?”

Your head shot up and you tried to gulp down the nervousness, pressing your lips together as you nodded, still picking at the flowers in your bouquet. You had decided on the tuberoses, thinking it would be some sort of an inside joke but even that wasn’t enough to distract you.

“Mm hm,” you muttered and your uncle cleared his throat.

“You can say it if you’re nervous Clover,” he said. “I was very nervous on my wedding day.”

You pulled your brows together. “What were you nervous for?”

“Marrying the most beautiful and amazing lady in the ton is bound to put some pressure on a person,” he said with a small smile. “Which is what Mr. Bridgerton and I have in common, I’m sure.”

You nibbled on your lip and took a deep breath.

“Uncle?”

“Yes dear?”

“What if—” you paused for a moment, the words getting stuck in your throat before you willed them out. “You and auntie were lucky. What if my marriage turns out to be nothing like yours? What if it’s more like…”

You trailed off, the mere thought enough to give you goosebumps and you could tell that he understood what you meant even if you didn’t finish your sentence. He shook his head fervently.

“I would never let that happen,” he said. “I promise you that. No one will ever hurt you no matter what position they hold in your life.”

You knew it was supposed to put your heart at ease, but you were beginning to feel nothing could at this point. No matter what your uncle told you, that small whisper in your head refused to go away.

You were walking into a burning house and no one else could see the flames other than you.

“Right,” your voice came out as a whisper before you cleared your throat and nodded fervently. “I know. Thank you.”

Your uncle stole a look inside and turned to you.

“Are you ready?”

You didn’t even notice you were rubbing at your wrist but that slight sting on the bridge of your nose that spread down to your throat was a telltale sign of the tears that were about to follow, and you couldn’t afford to break down here, someone would be able to tell something was wrong.

You could cry when you were by yourself, just not now.

“Yes,” you managed to say and put your arm on his arm. “Let’s go.”

He squeezed at your hand for a moment as if he wanted to assure you and you both stepped in, people turning their heads to look at you immediately. Though he was right there on the steps to the left of the priest, Benedict noticed the movement in the chapel and he turned around, his gaze turning softer the moment it fell on you, staring at you like he was enchanted.

Even through the mind-numbing fear you could still notice just how handsome he looked and a tiny spark of warmth shot through you, but it soon disappeared as the unstoppable wave of fear rushed through your system, turning your insides cold again.

Just a couple of steps left.

You didn’t even have to speak, all you had to say was “I do” and then—

Then a lifelong of misery and torture.

You blinked back the tears as you and your uncle reached the altar and your uncle went to sit beside your aunt while you took your place beside Benedict, Charlotte giving you a bright smile before fixing your veil and rushing back to stand by the steps of the altar as the maid of honor. You could feel Benedict’s gaze on you but you had a feeling you would break down crying if you so much as turned your head, so instead you looked up at the priest who cleared his throat, and started on his speech.

You honestly had no idea about the specifics of the speech or whether he had added anything else, because you could hardly hear anything due to the blood rushing in your ears, making your hearing almost muffled. Your heart felt like it was being squeezed right in your chest, the acid burning your throat but even through that haze of panic, the slight brush of Benedict’s hand over the back of your own hand snapped you out of your thoughts, making you turn your glances at him.

It was almost strange how you two had learned how to communicate with each other without really saying anything out loud in such a short time. He offered you a small smile as if trying to assure you or calm you down, and you swallowed thickly, a tiny, sad smile curling your lips as well before you turned back to the priest.

“…Will you love her, comfort her, honour and keep her—”

Breathe.

You had to keep breathing.

“I will,” Benedict’s voice was stronger than what you assumed yours would be. The priest nodded and turned to you, but your heart was beating so loudly in your ears that you could hardly pick up the first part of his question.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Focus.

“…So as long as you both shall live?”

You swallowed thickly, your sight blurry because of tears and took a deep breath, your answering coming out as a rasp;

“I will.”

A tear escaped from your eye and your hand shot up to quickly wipe at it, but it was the least of your problems.

Everyone except you and Benedict was going to think it was tears of happiness anyway.

The wedding breakfast was to be held in the Bridgerton House, and there were a lot of guests for some reason but it shouldn’t have been surprising for you considering how popular Bridgertons were. You hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to Benedict which sort of made him the only person you hadn’t talked to, because it seemed that all the guests had many questions for you; how you had come up with the idea of a floral gown, where you would be going for your honeymoon, and whether or not Teddy was looking forward to the little nieces and nephews he would play with.

The panic was still bubbling in your stomach but thankfully Josie had come to drag you away from them.

“Thank you,” you said and she scoffed.

“You’re welcome. We should kick them out at this point, honestly.”

“I don’t think that’d be considered polite, Josie.”

“Maybe not but that’s what they’re asking for.”

You heaved a sigh and looked around. “Where’s Teddy?”

“With Andrew. He keeps saying we need to adopt him and came up with the idea of Teddy staying with us half the year and the other half he can stay with uncle and auntie.”

“Really?”

“He wants to buy him a horse to bribe him,” Josie said. “When I reminded him that Teddy is six, he changed it into a pony.”

You smiled softly. “Teddy would love a pony, but he can’t stay with you half the year.”

“Mm hm, go tell Andrew that—auntie wants to see you by the way. Upstairs, second room.”

“Why?”

“So that you won’t be unprepared for your wedding night.”

You could feel your heart dropping to your stomach but you had to remind yourself to not show it on your expression.

“I already know.”

“I said something similar but she wants to talk to you—”

“Miss Y/N,” Anthony’s voice cut through and made you turn your head. “Lady Walcott.”

“Lord Bridgerton.”

“Have you seen Benedict?”

You looked around. “He’s not here?”

He scoffed. “Apparently not, since I’m here asking you.”

You narrowed your eyes, opening your mouth to retort but Josie beat you to it.

“Well if by ‘asking her’ you mean interrupting a conversation, yes you did,” she said. “We were in the middle of something in case it has escaped your notice.”

Anthony pulled his brows together. “I beg your pardon?”

“My pardon is not granted,” Josie said. “We haven’t seen him and for future reference, you should be careful not to appear impolite with my sister. This is my first and last warning, there will not be another.”

Anthony gawked at her and Josie rolled her eyes as she turned to you.

“Honestly Clover, can’t say I approve but as long as Benedict makes you happy…” she trailed off. “I’ll go and find Bess, go to auntie.”

With that, she walked away from both of you and you repressed a smile at the look of complete shock on Anthony’s face.

“You threw that viper insult around way too early, I bet I look like a nice person now,” you pointed out and Anthony frowned.

“Benedict told you.”

“I honestly don’t care what you think of me,” you shrugged your shoulders. “You don’t like me, I don’t like you either, not a huge surprise. I haven’t seen Benedict but Charlotte is nowhere to be found either so I’m guessing they’re together somewhere.”

Anthony blinked a couple of times. “And you’re okay with that?”

“Are you?” you asked back and Anthony’s eyes snapped to yours, a look of surprise etched over his features but it was gone immediately. You scoffed.

“I really don’t like conversing with you so I’m going to find my aunt now,” you stated. “But Josie has a point; don’t interrupt me again or demand answers in that manner.”

You walked away from him, leaving him there completely dumbfounded as you climbed the stairs and looked around, then approached the second door and knocked it.

“Auntie?”

“Come in dear!” she called out and you opened the door, then stepped inside. She was by the window, watching the people in the garden and you leaned back to the door.

“Josie mentioned…” you started, your throat dry all of a sudden. “But that’s not really—um—”

“Let’s sit down first,” she said gently and went to sit by the bed. You shifted your weight, then pushed yourself off the door to sit next to her.

“I’m not sure what your mother told you about marriage.”

You shook your head fervently. “She wasn’t really a mother to me,” you said. “Or Josie for that matter. But she…um, inadvertently taught me some things about how marriage works.”

Her eyes found yours and she gave you an understanding smile.

“Yours will be nothing like your parents’ marriage my dearest.”

But we don’t know that, you wanted to say. We just don’t know that.

“Benedict is a good man, and you always have me and your uncle,” she assured you, reaching out to hold your hand and you squeezed it, trying to smile.

“Thank you.”

“I’m very certain you will have an incredibly happy marriage,” she said and cleared her throat. “And most of the time, that begins with the wedding night.”

The fear churned your stomach but you took a deep breath.

“You don’t really have to explain what happens on the wedding night,” you said. “I already know.”

She raised her brows. “Do you?”

“Oh no I haven’t—” you shook your head again. “Not personally but…Countryside is not like here and Josie had a couple of close friends and some of them were married. They described it quite well.”

“And what did they say?”

“A lot of things,” you said, turning the wedding band around your finger while you bit inside your cheek. “It’s um—it’s a rather unpleasant aspect of marriage, as if there are any pleasant ones.”

“Clover that’s not true,” she said hastily. “I’m sorry for those poor girls, but I can assure you it is not unpleasant at all.”

You scoffed a laugh and shot her a look, and she tilted her head.

“You and Benedict are in love,” she said and you bit at your tongue, dropping your glances into your lap as you nodded.

“Yeah,” you muttered. “We are.”

“So why is it so hard to believe your husband who’s very much in love with you will make it pleasant for you?”

Your husband.

Right. Benedict was your husband now, and you were—

You were married. This had actually happened.

You tried to swallow the nervous lump in your throat and took a deep breath.

“Yeah,” you managed to say and stood up, desperate to get out of the room. “I should probably find my uh—Benedict, I should find Benedict because I haven’t seen him and people were looking for him and—” you motioned with your hands. “Yeah. Thank you so much auntie.”

You pulled the door open and stepped out, then made your way downstairs so that you could pass the foyer and go outside for some fresh air but before you could reach the front door, you heard someone saying your name and turned your head.

“Andrew,” you said. “Hello.”

Andrew tilted his head, his eyes searching your face. “Are you alright?” he asked. “You look…”

Your heart was beating in ears so loud that for a second you thought he could surely hear it, but you dug your nails into your palm and nodded as the room started spinning around you.

“Yeah,” you said through your teeth. “Uh huh, I’m fine. It’s just been a long day.”

That familiar heat started climbing up from the nape of your neck to your whole head, the pounding in your temples starting to get worse as you felt pins and needles on the back of your head. You raised your hand to rub at your eyes but it was trembling so bad that Andrew instantly took a step towards you.

“Let’s get you sit down and I’ll get Jo, how about that?”

“I um…” you blinked a couple of times and reached out to rest your hand against the wall as your vision started getting blurry from the edges. “No need for that, I’m absolutely fi—”

And as if someone blew a candle, everything went black.

The first thing you noticed when you came to your senses was just how badly your head was hurting and how the multiple voices speaking in the room was not making it any better.

“I can assure you Mr. Bridgerton, there’s nothing to worry about—”

“She has passed out, I’d say there’s plenty to worry about!”

“Benny, maybe we should listen to the doctor.”

“Apparently we shouldn’t!”

“You’re certain she’s fine?”

“Quite certain, Lord Thorne.”

“I’ll just send for another doctor—”

“Or maybe listen to this one first?”

“No no, I agree with Benedict. We should send for another doctor.”

“Lady Walcott, it is possible that today has been quite overwhelming for your sister.”

“Doctor, I’m about to overwhelm someone in this room if my sister doesn’t wake up in the next—”

You let out a groan and forced yourself to open your eyes even if it felt like they weighed a ton. The voices ceased immediately and Benedict stopped pacing in the room to rush to your side.

“Y/N?”

“I’m fine,” you managed to mutter but it came out so drowsy that it apparently did nothing to assure anyone in the room. Josie sat by your other side while your aunt let out a relieved breath that sounded like a sob, and your uncle wrapped his arm around her as if trying to reassure her. “If everyone could just stop talking, it would be much better though.”

Charlotte offered you a small smile and Anthony stole a look at her before turning to you and if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he was worried.

“Are you sure?”

“Quite sure.” You nodded at Andrew. “And sorry about that.”

Andrew waved a hand in the air. “You almost gave me a heart attack but since the doctor is here it’s fine. We’ll just keep him close.”

“Have you eaten anything today?” Lady Bridgerton asked and you frowned.

“I…didn’t get the chance.”

“Oh thank God, that explains it,” Daphne said as she exhaled, “I’ll tell the maids to bring you something to eat.”

“Tell them to bring juice as well, Daphne.” Lady Bridgerton said and Daphne nodded, and left the room in a rush. The doctor cleared his throat.

“If we could clear out the room please?”

Josie looked like she wanted to argue but you shot her a look, silently telling her to drop it. She heaved a sigh as your aunt came to kiss the top of your head then left with your uncle after he squeezed your shoulder in an assuring manner.

“Fine…” Josie murmured and walked out of the room with Andrew and Charlotte pressed her lips together.

“I’ll find Teddy and tell him you’re alright, he’s with Bess,” she said and left the room with Anthony quickly following her. Lady Bridgerton offered you a small smile.

“We’re right outside,” she said and closed the door behind her, leaving you with Benedict and the doctor. You glanced at Benedict before looking at the doctor and pushed yourself to sit up in the bed, Benedict making a move to help you but you shook your head.

“I’m fine,” you said. “Just…”

“Excitement?” the doctor offered and you snapped your fingers.

“Yeah, that. Wedding and all.”

“Well you will be happy to hear you’re absolutely not the first bride to faint on their wedding day, Mrs. Bridgerton,” he said and the new name was so foreign to you -and apparently to Benedict as well- that you both stole a look at each other before you remembered to turn to the doctor. “Excitement and lack of food is not a good combination.”

“But you’re alright?” Benedict asked, as if trying to convince himself and you nodded.

“You heard him. Apparently it’s quite fashionable.”

The doctor put a small vial on the bedstand. “Lavender for the nerves,” he said and you reached out to take the vial into your hand to look at it.

“Thank you.”

“Of course. Make sure not to leave the bed until you ate and drank something,” he said and glanced at Benedict. “And I would avoid any strenuous activity at least until tomorrow.”

You could feel your face burning at the implication and the tips of Benedict’s ears went slightly pink as he raised his brows, then nodded.

“Y-yeah, of course.”

Everyone in the room knew what he was actually talking about and you felt like slipping deeper into the covers but you dragged your fingernail on the silky covers, following the patterns. The doctor grabbed his bag and bowed.

“Do send for me if this happens again,” he said. “Congratulations for the wedding.”

He walked out of the room, making you frown for a second before the realization hit you; you were married now, of course you could stay alone without a chaperone.

You put the vial back in the nightstand and Benedict let out a breath.

“Jesus Christ.”

You heaved a sigh, rubbing at your wrist absentmindedly. “That was subtle.”

“As subtle as a brick through the window,” Benedict murmured and his blue eyes flitted over your face, worried. “Do you need anything?”

You shook your head, the familiar panic twisting at your stomach. This was the first time you two were alone as a married couple and even if you knew nothing would happen -this was his family’s house after all- it still did nothing to extinguish the fire of complete fear burning at your throat.

Somehow, a small part of you was trying to convince you the fear was nonsense though. It was Benedict, and he had promised—

Right. Promised.

Dear God, you were a goddamn idiot if you were just going to take his word for it, especially now that he was your husband and was allowed to do whatever he wanted.

“No,” you heard the word leaving your lips as all your muscles tensed up again. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

You didn’t even notice your eyes flickering at the door before snapping back to his face but he caught it. A look of realization dawned on his face and he pulled back slightly, clearing his throat.

“Something has changed, has it not?”

Your answer came way too fast. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do,” he insisted. “I’ve never seen you as terrified as you were back at the altar and you’ve never looked at me like this before, ever.”

Your jaw clenched. “Like what?”

“Like you’re waiting for something bad to happen.”

You were beginning to think that Benedict being this observant would never stop surprising you. Even after all these weeks, you were still not used to him noticing the tiniest things about you, things almost everyone around you would not even think twice about.

You were a good liar yes, but Benedict was a much better observer.

It did not mean you wouldn’t try though.

“I’m just tired,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “You heard the doctor. Excitement and everything.”

A sad smile pulled at his lips before he scoffed a bitter laugh, and at the worst time possible you noticed for the millionth time just how handsome he was.

“Right,” he said. “I’ll leave you to your rest then.”

For some reason that sent a pang of pain through your chest but you pursed your lips and nodded, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I’m guessing you won’t tell me but please at least tell someone if you need anything,” Benedict said and walked out of the room, leaving you there. That pang in your chest, right in your heart seemed to heighten and you gritted your teeth, then slipped deeper into the covers with a sigh.

Lady Bridgerton and your family refused to let you out of their sight the whole day but when the night fell you knew you and Benedict were supposed to go to your new home. Even though you felt short of breath even thinking about it, you could only delay it for so long, so eventually you and he got on the carriage and departed from Bridgerton home after saying goodbye to your family.

Teddy had looked like he was on the verge of tears but both you and Josie had assured him that you would see him tomorrow. Though it broke your heart to leave him alone like that, you were so glad he had Josie to console him along with your aunt and uncle until tomorrow. Thankfully you had met the staff earlier in the week so there wasn’t going to be any introductions tonight. Neither you nor Benedict had talked for the whole road and normally you wouldn’t be bothered by the silence but now—

It just felt uncomfortable.

Benedict helped you out of the carriage when it stopped in front of the house and you saw the staff by the stairs. You smiled at them and after a short greeting both you and Benedict climbed up the stairs to get inside.

It still felt surreal that you were going to live here as the lady of the house but even that wasn’t enough to get rid of the tension all over your body.

The wedding night.

It was fine. It was going to be fine; you could handle it, of course you could. Josie’s friends had told you it didn’t take that long to be over so you were going to be fine.

At least you weren’t one of those clueless poor idiots in the ton. You knew very well what would happen, and no matter how unpleasant it was to be, after it was over you were just going to go back to your room and…

Nothing some sleep couldn’t fix, you were guessing. And considering how every married couple in the ton was doing it, it couldn’t be that difficult, just a chore if anything.

You could swear you were feeling lightheaded again from the panic but you dug your fingernails into your palms and took a deep breath, then carefully gathered your skirts so that you wouldn’t trip on them on your way upstairs.

Benedict only turned to you when you both reached the hallway your rooms were in and you cleared your throat.

“So how do we—” you mentioned between you. “Where do I go?”

Benedict tilted his head. “You said you wanted your own room.”

“I clearly want my own room,” you said quickly, your heart beating in your ears. “I do, I just…do I go to your room or do you come to mine? I’m not very familiar with—with the arrangement.”

An almost amused smile curled his lips and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I told you before, that will not take place if you do not want it to,” he said. “Do you?”

You could feel your whole face burning, that familiar flame of desire shooting through you but it was soon smothered by the cold fear tightening your throat. You swallowed thickly, looking up at him and his blue eyes turned soft before he took a deep breath.

“I’ll see you at breakfast,” he said, making you frown.

“…What?”

“Sweet dreams,” he said as he walked to his room, leaving you were completely dumbfounded. He closed the door behind him and you blinked a couple of times, still trying to wrap your mind about what had happened just now.

You slowly made your way to your own room and closed the door behind you, locking it before turning to glance around the room. The door on the other side of the room connecting it to Benedict’s room caught your attention immediately and you licked your lips, fidgeting in your spot for a moment before you approached it, leaning your ear to the wood so that you could hear what was happening. There was the sound of shuffling which made you think perhaps he was getting undressed for bed and even the thought was more than enough to make the fire over your face worse, so you immediately pulled back and locked this door as well, grimacing at the sound the key made in the lock. The movement in the other room stopped for a moment and you nibbled on your lip, then took a deep breath.

“Good night,” you said not even knowing whether he heard you or not, then stepped back from the door in a haste.

He had stayed true to his word. Contrary to what you thought, he had made no move to consummate your marriage, not even a kiss—

Even if you didn’t really mind the idea of a kiss from him, not at all. The memory of his lips on yours sent that familiar warmth through you, desire hitting you out of nowhere and you shook your head, trying to pull your thoughts together.

You walked to the full-length mirror, then started unlacing your dress with nimble fingers and took it off, your corset following soon. Letting out a breath, you walked to the bed and flung yourself on it, pressing your palms into your eyes before you let your arms drop to your sides.

Very well then.

This was not the first time Benedict Bridgerton surprised you, and you had a feeling it would not be the last either.

Chapter Text

Your wedding day had been so stressful that soon after going to bed -in your own room- you fell asleep much faster than you usually would. And contrary to other times, for once you didn’t wake up in the middle of the night, plagued by your nightmares.

You were incredibly comfortable under the soft warm covers, so when the rather loud knock on the door pulled you out of the pleasant haze of sleep you couldn’t help the groan leaving your lips, burying your face deeper into the pillow.

Maybe if you didn’t make any noise, whoever it was would go away.

“Y/N?” Benedict’s voice reached inside, making your eyes snap open.

Or maybe not.

“Yes?” you called out, your voice still drowsy and Benedict let out a breath.

“Can you open the door please?”

You blinked a couple of times and sat up in bed, then pushed the covers off of you and walked to the door to unlock it before opening it.

…Alright, this was just not fair to the rest of you mortals on this green earth.

Benedict looked so handsome even at this very early hour of the morning that you could only gawk at him for a moment. Perhaps it was because this was the first time you were seeing him in his home attire, perhaps it was his slightly messy hair that made you want to run your fingers through just to see if it was as soft as it looked or perhaps it was his blue eyes that gleamed even with the sunlight coming from the window.

Unlike his formal attire, he wasn’t wearing a waistcoat or a jacket, just a white shirt that showed off his muscular chest and black pants. There was a tiny spot of blue over the collar of the sinful shirt -you had decided to refer to it as such from this moment on- which made you think he had been painting, that would explain the lack of formal clothes.

Your eyes raked over his broad chest, trailing up to his neck and you forced yourself to meet his gaze, ignoring the skip on your heart, half fearing he would be aware of your hungry gaze but apparently you had nothing to worry. Benedict looked almost in a daze, his eyes focused on you but you knew for a fact that you did not look nearly as good as him especially first thing in the morning. Your hair was a mess, you had fallen asleep in your under shift last night and sleep was still clinging to your eyes.

“Good morning,” you remembered to say and that was enough to make him snap out of it.

“Hello,” he said. “Sorry if I disturbed you, I just…wanted to make sure you were alright.”

You frowned slightly as you rubbed at your eye with the back of your hand, barely aware of the petulant pout on your lips, making him smile softly.

“I don’t usually wake up before 8 o’clock,” you rasped out and cleared your throat. “I wasn’t aware you woke up earlier, no one told me. It wasn’t my intention to be rude.”

Benedict shook his head.

“No no,” he said. “Please don’t worry about it, I don’t wake up before that either. It’s just that um—it’s twelve o’clock?”

You dropped your hand, staring up at him. “No it’s not.”

Benedict repressed a smile and nodded at the huge clock on your wall, and you followed his line of sight, looking over your shoulder to see that it was, in fact, twelve o’clock.

“What on earth?” you mumbled and Benedict let out a small chuckle.

“Long night?”

“How did I sleep until noon?”

“Well you did pass out yesterday,” he pointed out. “So I’d say it was a tiring day.”

You shook your head.

“This is still unacceptable,” you said. “I’ll be downstairs shortly—”

“Oh no no,” Benedict cut you off. “Get your rest, please. I only wanted to check on you because the maids said they knocked on your door but there was no answer so…you know, I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“I didn’t even hear anyone knocking,” you murmured and he smiled softly.

“It’s alright,” he said. “Like I said, I only wanted to check before I changed and left.”

Your head shot up. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah because I…” his eyes searched your face. “Did you not want me to?”

“Oh no, that’s not what I meant,” you said, shaking your head and Benedict motioned between you.

“Because I can stay—”

“No I’m sure you’re busy—”

“Or I can change plans and we could just go—”

“It’s absolutely fine,” you cut him off. “I was just curious. And I should probably talk with the housekeeper, you know? Even if I’ve made quite the first impression I’m guessing.”

Benedict shot you that crooked grin of his. “There are worse first impressions to be made, I’m sure.”

You clicked your tongue. “We’ll see about that,” you said. “I mean I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m not exactly…a warm person.”

Benedict pulled his brows together, an exaggerated look of disbelief etched in his features.

“You? Not a warm person?” he asked. “Here I thought you were the nicest lady in the ton.”

You scoffed a laugh and scrunched up your nose, shaking your head. A silence fell upon you and Benedict cleared his throat, pointing at his own room with his thumb.

“I’d better…”

“Right,” you said quickly. “Sure.”

He shot you a tight lipped smile and approached his room but before he could open it, you had already stepped out of yours.

“But um—” the words left your mouth before you could stop them or had any idea what would follow them for that matter. You looked up at the high ceiling, trying to recall what your aunt would tell your uncle whenever he would leave for the day, then took a deep breath as you remembered it, your eyes finding his again;

“Are you going to be home for dinner?”

A soft light appeared in his eyes and he smiled before nodding fervently.

“Yeah, absolutely.”

“Alright,” you said and he blinked a couple of times as if he was trying to find what to ask back.

“And do you want anything from…” he started in a haste and paused to think for a second. “From the gentlemen’s club?”

You pulled your brows together and tilted your head to the left in confusion while Benedict grimaced, closing his eyes as if he was annoyed at himself before opening them again.

“Because that’s where I’m going,” he explained. “To meet Anthony and Colin.”

You huhed. “I don’t really know what people do there.”

“Not much to be honest,” he said and shrugged his shoulders. “I can bring you a cigar?”

You stopped the laughter threatening to leave your lips and pursed them.

“No thank you,” you said. “I don’t like the smell of cigars. I appreciate the offer though.”

“Anytime,” he said with a grin and you went back into your room to close the door behind you. You were painfully aware of the smile curling your lips but you shook your head and put your hands on your hips, looking around the room.

“Alright then,” you muttered to yourself. “Let’s see.”

Mrs. Alton, your new housekeeper was a woman of few words with a solemn look on her face but a couple of minutes into a conversation with her you could already tell she was going to be very helpful to you. As she gave you a tour of the house with Paula following you, she answered any and every question you asked and you made multiple mental notes so that you could ask your aunt later on. You weren’t raised in the ton which meant you weren’t exactly educated in all parts of running a household but now you were going to have to learn.

You were just about to be finished as you passed through the last room on the other side of the hall but one glance inside was enough to make you stop in your tracks.

“That’s the room Mr. Bridgerton chose as his art studio ma’am,” Mrs. Alton said and you nibbled on your lip. The room itself was so Benedict that you could’ve said it was his art studio without even so much as a hesitation. It was well lit with direct sunshine and a wonderful view of the garden and the greenhouse, and his sketches and paints were scattered around the room along with a couple of canvases on wooden easels. The sofa across from the fireplace looked so comfortable and on the coffee table there were some books, no doubt on art.  

“Oh,” you said, trying to decide whether to walk in or not but since Benedict wasn’t here and you had already sneaked around in his own house to take a look at his art, you decided a second time would be simply disrespectful.

At least where the staff could see.

You cleared your throat. “So garden next?”

“Yes, Mrs. Bridgerton.”

“Oh I think I can find my way to the garden,” you told her and Paula and smiled, “Please, don’t let me keep you from your day.”

“Of course ma’am,” they both curtsied and you walked past them to make your way downstairs, then left the house to step into the huge backyard.

The green garden full of colorful flowers was so beautiful and the water fountain made it look as if the garden itself was enchanted. You could imagine yourself sitting in the gazebo or spending hours in the greenhouse, and you still couldn’t believe this whole place was yours—

Benedict’s.

It was Benedict’s, not yours.

And you were going to stay away from that greenhouse and not spend much time in the most beautiful garden you had ever seen. Even though it was like someone had pulled it out of your dreams, you still couldn’t risk spending hours in it just to see it getting torn apart again.

You swallowed thickly and approached the gardener who was busy with one of the flower beds, but he jumped on his feet as soon as he saw you there.

“Good afternoon,” you said warmly. “Mr. Binsted if I remember correct?”

“You do Mrs. Bridgerton,” he bowed. “Good afternoon.”

“How are you, Mr. Binsted?”

“I’m well,” he said. “It’s a beautiful sunny day. How about you?”

“I’m alright,” you said. “I simply wanted to admire the garden up close, it is a masterpiece. And it is all your doing, without any help at all?”

“You flatter me ma’am,” he said with a proud smile. “It is. Thank you for letting me continue working here.”

“I should be thanking you for accepting to continue working here after your former employers moved,” you said. “I was actually wondering if I could ask something of you if that is quite alright?”

“Of course, Mrs. Bridgerton.”

“It caught my attention that although you have so many beautiful flowers here, there are no peonies,” you said. “And it’s my best friend’s favorite flower, so would it be possible to plant them as well?”

“Peonies?” he asked and nodded. “Absolutely.”

“And we can plant them over there, right next to irises,” you said. “If we do it in two weeks, by the time peonies start to open, irises will be fading so it’ll overlap with each other. And around them we could use sweet woodruff as the base, it’ll be the natural mulch and keep the soil moist so that peonies can bloom better.”

He tilted his head. “You know about flowers.”

Your head shot up and you shifted your weight.

“Just…just a little,” you muttered and cleared your throat. “And in a month perhaps we can also plant some lavenders over there, when the weather allows.”

“Of course Mrs. Bridgerton. I’ll plant the peonies tomorrow.”

“I appreciate it,” you said with a smile and he motioned at the greenhouse.

“Would you like me to change anything there as well?”

You looked over your shoulder to see the greenhouse better, your heart skipping a beat. Even in your dreams you would find it hard to believe that you could ever have a greenhouse, and the mere thought of the possibility of having it would make you smile in excitement but now…

You bit inside your cheek, that burning in your throat coming back as you felt the longing fill you, but you took a deep breath and shook your head.

“I’m not really good with greenhouses I’m afraid, I will leave that to your expertise,” you said. “Have a lovely day.”

“You too, Mrs. Bridgerton.”

You walked away from him back into the house, biting at your tongue and as soon as you stepped inside, Paula walked to you.

“A footman just brought a letter for you, ma’am.”

“Oh thank you,” you said and took the envelope from her, then opened it. Apparently Lady Bridgerton was inviting you for a stroll in the park with the rest of the family and you thought for a moment, then turned to Paula.

“Is the footman still here?”

“Yes, he’s waiting to deliver your reply.”

You nodded slowly and folded the paper to put it back into the envelope.

“Would you please tell him to tell Lady Bridgerton I will be there?” you asked. “I just need to visit my sister first.”

When the carriage stopped in front of Josie and Andrew’s house, you stepped out and approached the marble stairs to climb them. After reaching the door, you knocked on it and waited until the butler opened it. He let you in but before he could send a maid to the drawing room or announce your name, a very familiar giggle reached your ears and you turned your head to see Andrew running into the hallway, his arms outstretched so that he could carry Teddy up in the air who swung his legs back and forth, his laughter echoing over the walls.

“Teddy?”

They both turned to you and Teddy gasped. “Y/N! You’re here!”

“I didn’t know you were coming!” Andrew said as he put Teddy down so that he could rush to hug your legs. You crouched down and hugged him tight, pressing a kiss on top of his head.

“What are you doing here?”

“We’re playing a game, Andrew is the ship and I’m steering him to find Bess and Josie, they’re hiding!”

“Did I hear—?” Bess stepped into the hallway and her jaw dropped. “Aw sweetheart, welcome!”

“Hello little Clover,” Andrew said and pressed a kiss on your cheek, making you smile. “Jo didn’t tell us you were coming.”

“She didn’t know either,” you said and hoisted Teddy up so that he could hug you like a koala. Andrew tilted his head.

“Aren’t you supposed to uh…”

“What?”

Bess stole a look at Teddy before clearing her throat. “Supposed to be enjoying the day after your wedding?”

“Does this mean I won—Clover?” Josie said as she entered the hallway as well. “What are you doing here?”

You pulled your brows together. “What, I can’t come to visit now that I’m married?”

“No one is saying that!” Bess said quickly and linked her arm with Josie’s to squeeze at her hand. “We’re always happy to see you.”

You winked at her. “You’re the only person who treats me well in this house.”

“Hey!” Josie and Andrew both protested at the same time and you tickled Teddy’s sides, making him giggle.

“Did you miss me?”

“Yes!” he said. “But Auntie said you’d probably be busy today.”

You hummed. “Change of plans,” you said. “I figured we could all go to the park, how does that sound?”

“Yes please!” Teddy said and you kissed his cheek, then put him down. He approached Josie while Andrew rested his arm on Bess’s shoulder, watching you with raised brows.

“Oh I have a lot of questions,” he said. “When are we going to the park?”

“In an hour or so?”

“That works,” Bess said. “It’s such a beautiful day to spend indoors.”

“Teddy my sweet,” Josie said. “Why don’t you go to your room with Mary to change your clothes? You have been running around for the last hour, I don’t want you to catch cold when we go out.”

“Alright!” he said and a maid curtsied, then led him upstairs. You followed Bess, Andrew and Josie to the drawing room and Andrew flung himself to the armchair and Bess sat down next to Josie on the sofa, entwining her fingers with hers, making you smile.

“So why aren’t you enjoying the marital bliss, exactly?”

“Andrew!”

“What?” he asked. “You’re always welcome here but I thought you two would spend the day in bed.”

Oh God damn it.

Of course. It made sense that they would think that. Considering how in love you were supposed to be, everyone was going to think you and Benedict had consummated your marriage last night and that you would both be in…

What was it called again?

Marital bliss.

There was no way you could tell them nothing had happened. It would not fit the lovesick image of you and Benedict.

“Well,” you swallowed thickly. “He had business with his brothers and—and his mother invited me outside.”

Bess and Josie exchanged glances and Josie cleared his throat.

“And…” she trailed off. “Are you alright?”

Andrew scoffed a laugh and turned to look at her.

“She’s married to the man she’s in love with Jo, we didn’t send her off to battle,” he said as a maid brought all of you tea, and you thanked her before getting your cup from the tray.

“Can we not talk about this please?” you asked as the maid left the room and Josie shrugged her shoulders.

“I just want to know whether you’re content.”

“If that bashful look on her face is any clue, I’d say she’s quite content with her husband,” Andrew pointed out and you kicked at his ankle, making him yelp.

“Ouch!”

“Listen, we just want to make sure you-” Bess thought for a moment. “Enjoyed your wedding night, that is all.”

You buried your burning face into your palms before lowering your hands. “I’m not going to talk about that with you, any of you.”

“I’m your sister!”

“And I’m your brother-in-law and Bess is technically your sister-in-law,” Andrew said. “Who are you going to talk to if not us?”

You shot him a glare. “No one. No one seems like a great option here.”

Andrew took a dramatic breath and sat up straighter.

“We don’t have to know the details,” he said. “Just overall, was it good or not?”

“Josie, make him stop.”

“Answer the question first.”

You would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought or dreamed about that.

Consummating with Benedict.

The dream flashed before your eyes, sending a fire over your face. He was incredibly handsome, no one could deny that, and if that kiss when you two were caught was anything to go by, it meant—

It just meant that you were a goddamn fool that was letting some lust cloud your thoughts.

“The second time is going to be much better by the way,” Andrew added in a haste. “The first time is always quite terrible.”

“Speak for yourself,” Josie pointed out and Bess giggled, holding her hand again as Andrew rolled his eyes.

“It gets so annoying to be around in love people sometimes, you have no idea.”

You scoffed. “Oh I have an idea, don’t you worry.”

“Clover, was it—”

“Yes!” you cut Josie off and let out a breath. “Yes it was good, yes I’m very happy, can we just stop talking about this please?”

Andrew smirked.

“Handsome, romantic and talented in both art and marriage bed, a great combination,” he said, holding up his tea cup, mocking a toast. “To Benedict Bridgerton’s many skills then.”

“Andrew I swear…”

“To happy marriages as rare as they are, and to my sister’s luck in finding one,” Josie held up her own cup and Bess grinned.

“And to many blissful nights and mornings for our Clover.”

“Dear God I hate all of you,” you grumbled, making them laugh and you sipped your tea, then leaned back, trying to ignore the burning in your cheeks.

                                                          *

You had no idea talking with people the day after your wedding night would be this uncomfortable.

For what it was worth, they were quite nice even when questioning you. Lady Bridgerton had only asked you whether you were feeling well on this lovely afternoon with pinkness on her cheeks, and Daphne looked like she had a million questions to ask you but was now promenading with the Duke. Charlotte wasn’t in the park, Eloise had informed you that she had told her she would spend the day with her siblings reading to them, so she wouldn’t be coming.

You were beginning to like having conversations with Eloise more and more. You had spent nearly an hour talking with her and Andrew while Bess and Josie walked around the park, but soon enough Andrew had left to join some friends and Penelope and Eloise had decided to go to the other side of the park, inviting you to go with them. You had said no, promising them you’d join them the next time and walked away from the rest of the crowd, desperate to get your thoughts in order, alone.

You had given the excuse of keeping an eye on Teddy and now you were watching him run around with Gregory and Hyacinth while you sat under a tree, enjoying the sunlight while your thoughts stormed through your mind.

Your wedding night hadn’t been as terrifying as you had thought, and Benedict hadn’t even tried to so much as imply anything or touch you. Though it was supposed to put your heart at ease -and it had a little- you still couldn’t help but wonder…

This was all because everyone kept asking you since the morning, but you wondered for a moment how it would actually feel if you had kissed him again, or perhaps—

Perhaps more.

You shook your head at yourself, trying to snap out of your thoughts before a four-leaf clover caught your eye right where you were sitting. You pulled your brows together and reached out to rip it, then twirled it between your thumb and pointer finger but your eyes snapped up when you heard someone clear their throat.

Benedict.

You tried to ignore the way your heartbeat got faster at the sight of him and he shot you a small smile, then motioned beside you.

“May I?”

“Sure,” you said. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Neither did I,” he said as he sat down next to you and stole a look at the clover in your hand. “Is that a four leafed one?”

“Mm hm.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen one of those.”

“I keep finding them, Josie says I have a gift.”

“Is that why they all call you Clover?”

You nodded and extended your hand, still holding it.

“There you go,” you said with a tentative smile. “A gift. You can keep it, for luck.”

Benedict stared at it as if you were giving him a precious artifact rather than some simple weed, and took it from you to carefully place it in the pocket of his waistcoat.

“Thank you.”

You shrugged your shoulders, averting your gaze from him to see Colin approach Miss Marina while Anthony made his way through the crowd, no doubt to join his friends. Teddy caught Hyacinth and bolted away from her as she and Gregory started chasing him, letting out a gleeful laugh.

“Everyone keeps asking me if I’m alright," you said, making Benedict raise his brows.

“And are you?”

You stole a look at him and held back your laugh. “No I mean, they’re asking because—”

“Oh I know,” Benedict said, a small smile curling his lips. “I’ve been getting some questions myself.”

“People are asking you if you’re alright?”

“They’re asking me if you’re alright,” he said and you shifted your weight in your spot, your cheeks burning.

That meant no one knew you two hadn’t consummated your marriage, but considering how close he was with his family, you still felt the need to ask;

“So you didn’t tell your brothers?”

“No,” he shook his head fervently. “Of course not. Did you tell your sister?”

You shook your head as well. “I figured since we’re pretending to be in love, it’d make sense if we-you know.”

He paused for a moment and cleared his throat. “Right,” he said. “Yeah. I’m beginning to think no one in our lives is subtle.”

“You’re not subtle,” you pointed out and he scoffed.

“And you are?”

“I’m the paragon of subtlety, what are you even talking about?” you asked back, making him chuckle and he held up his hands, gesturing surrender. You bit on your lip to stop your smile, then took a deep breath.

“Well then I suppose I should be the first to ask you,” you said. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah.”

You tilted your head. “Benedict.”

His mischievous smile made your stomach do a happy flip. “Hm?”

You found yourself grinning despite yourself.

“How’s marriage treating you?”

“Hasn’t stabbed me yet,” he pointed out, coaxing out a small laugh from you. “It’s going pretty good so far if you ask me.”

You hummed, trying to adapt a serious look but failing terribly. “Your baseline is rather strange.”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “What about you? How’s marriage treating you?”

You thought for a moment, pulling your brows together.

“It’s um…” you trailed off. “It’s not what I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

You rubbed at your wrist in an absentminded manner, your frown deepening as you tried to find the right words while he waited patiently.

“Just not this,” you ended up saying, and that fond light started glimmering in his blue eyes again.

“I know you don’t trust me yet,” he said after a beat. “But I want you to know that I trust you. Wholeheartedly.”

You blinked a couple of times, that familiar pang tingling in the bridge of your nose and you swallowed the lump in your throat.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” the question came out as a rasp and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I am.”

“Why?”

A soft smile curled his lips.

“I think you know why,” he said. “You’ve known why since the rooftop.”

You stared at him in complete silence, your eyes locked in his and it was only when you heard someone call out your name that you snapped out of it and turned your head.

“Hey lovebirds!” Andrew said. “We’re going to grab something to eat, are you coming?”

Benedict cleared his throat and got up to offer you his hand. You could feel the sparks running through your veins as soon as you placed your hand in his so that he could help you up and both of you paused for a moment before you inhaled shakily, then pulled your hand out of his, missing the warmth of his skin the moment you did so.

“Shall we?” he held out his arm and you forced yourself to focus, then placed your hand on his arm.

“Yeah,” you said, your heart still pacing in your chest. “Sure, let’s go.”

Chapter Text

But of course, after a couple of nights of complete peace, nightmares came back.

Your eyes snapped open as you gasped into your pillow, your heart pacing in your chest, the fear still making you nauseous. You sat up in bed, trying to catch your breath and wiped at the tears with shaky hands, your throat hurting as you tried to swallow the lump in it.

You were alright.

And you were definitely not in that hellhole your parents called home.

Pushing the covers off of you with a sigh, you looked around the room for a moment, your heart still beating too fast. You knew trying to go back to sleep would be futile, there was no way you could calm yourself enough to fall asleep at least until the dawn broke.

And as the clock on the wall told you, the dawn was at least three hours away.

You got up from the bed and walked to the door before pushing it open and peeking your head out. As suspected, all members of staff were in their beds so you went back into the room to light up the oil lamp, then stepped out of the room, holding it carefully so that you could see where you were going. The half open door of Benedict’s room got your attention and you squinted your eyes to see inside but there was no sound or sign of him.

Perhaps he had left to wherever Lady Whistledown said he kept going before you two got married, or perhaps to his mistresses. You tried to ignore the way the mere thought made your stomach drop, that uncomfortable bitter taste spreading over your throat but you shook your head at yourself.

You weren’t going to be that person. This marriage was a sham and he was free to do whatever he wanted.

You made your way down the hallway but before you could so much as a take a step downstairs, the light coming from the room at the end of the hall caught your eye and you tilted your head, confusion furrowing your brows because you remembered what that room was.

His studio.

Oh.

Well, it seemed that you weren’t the only one awake.

You felt almost guilty for thinking he was off to his mistresses when he was right there, apparently working on his art and you nibbled on your lip, fidgeting in your spot. He probably did not want to be disturbed but you were curious to see what exactly he was doing, not to mention you really didn’t want to be alone after your nightmare. Dragging the tip of your tongue over your bottom lip, you looked down at the dancing flame in the oil lamp before shrugging your shoulders.

If he did not want your presence, he could just tell you.

You walked across the hallway to reach the room and as soon as you did and saw him inside, your heart started beating even faster than it was before.

Of course night clothes were supposed to be more relaxed than formal attire but you were beginning to think that at this point, Benedict put on clothes merely to taunt you and send that fire through your veins. The half open shirt let you take a peek at his muscular chest, the rolled up sleeves showing off his strong arms, and the suspenders over his dark trousers was hanging down at his sides, making you gulp loudly. He was perched on the stool, his whole attention on the painting in front of him and he was completely oblivious to your presence which let you run your eyes over his figure, from his handsome face to his strong body—

And you had made innuendos and criticized Benedict’s appetite for nightly activities with his mistresses.

Hypocrisy was not a fun thing.

You rolled your shoulders back, forcing yourself to focus and cleared your throat to signal your presence, making him turn his head.

“Y/N,” he said after a beat, letting out a breath and you smiled slightly.

“Hello.”

“Hello—I didn’t even hear you, you move very quietly.”

You nodded. “Uh… yeah, it’s a childhood habit.”

He tilted his head, that small smile playing on his lips. “You and Josie used to play hide and seek?”

The nightmare flashed before your eyes and you bit inside your cheek.

“Something like that,” you said and lingered by the door, then nodded at the canvas in front of him. “Are you—is that going to be me again?”

Jesus Christ, what kind of a question was that?

Unlike you, Benedict was not fazed by your arrogant question at all, only a bit surprised but he quickly recovered.

“Not this one,” he said and pointed at the other canvas that only had the half of its background with the brush in his hand. “That one will be you.”

Your head shot up in surprise and you stole a look at him to see whether he was serious or just jesting but he looked completely genuine. You took a deep breath, willing yourself to ignore how his answer had caused a fluttering in your stomach.

“I’m only here because I’m too lazy to start a fire in any of the other rooms,” you lied through your teeth and stepped inside. “I’ll stay here a while simply for that reason but that—that means nothing.”

He repressed a smile and motioned at the room. “Of course.”

You made your way into the room to put the oil lamp on the small coffee table, then sat down on the sofa to grab a book off the table so that you could shuffle through it. Your eyes skimmed the lines and you turned the pages, frowning slightly.

“Half of these are just not good.”

Benedict let out a chuckle. “Which book are you looking at?”

“Great Artists in History,” you read the title out loud and made a face. “Debatable.”

“Which painting?”

You held up the book so that he could see the page better and he raised his brows.

“Really?” he asked. “You don’t like that one?”

“It’s not that I don’t like it, I just think your paintings look better,” you pointed out and he looked taken aback for a moment, that soft light glimmering in his eyes even in the dim-lit room.

“You flatter me.”

“I’ve never done that Benedict,” you told him, “I speak the truth.”

His smile was gentle on his lips. “I suppose we will see if the Royal Academy of Arts share your feelings on that.”

“You want to get into the Academy?”

“If I can.”

“I think you can,” you said. “And I think around a century, you will be on one of these books and people will have no idea you doubted you were as good as these artists here— and my spirit will tell your spirit that I told you so.”

He let out a laugh. “Oh is that right?”

“Mm hm—I mean honestly…” you turned the page and held up the book again. “This man was called one of the greatest artists in history and his work looked like that and you worry about the academy?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “That man was also one of the founding members of the Art Academy in Italy.”

You frowned and took a look at the page, then turned to him, holding onto the back of the sofa as you rested your chin on the smooth wood.

“Do you have any idea what I would do if I had half your talent?”

He tilted his head, curiosity etched in his features. “Tell me.”

“I would rule the art world,” you said. “Obviously under a male pseudonym, and I would not give anyone else a second of my time and when the academy contacted me, I would just make them beg me to attend there only to reject them.”  

That coaxed out a laughter from him and you bit down a smile, then shrugged your shoulders again.

“It’s a good plan. That’s what I would do if I were you, too bad I cannot paint at all.”

“Have you tried?”

You narrowed your eyes and shook your head. “I cannot even draw anything. One time I tried to describe a certain type of rose to Josie by drawing it, and she thought it was a daisy.”

Benedict pursed his lips to contain his laughter and motioned at you.

“Come on.”

“What?”

“I’ll show you how to paint a rose,” he said and you eyed the canvas in front of him, then shook your head again.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

Your stomach churned painfully. “I’d…I’d mess it up.”

“No you won’t,” he said. “I promise you, you won’t. We’ll just try it and if you don’t like it, we will just stop.”

You bit inside your cheek, your eyes searching his. “And if it ruins your painting?”

“It will not ruin it.”

You shifted your weight before you got up from the sofa and he stood up from the stool.

“You cannot blame me if it ends up looking terrible,” your voice came out as a demand and he shook his head.

“I would never,” he assured you and you gulped down, then approached him. He held out his hand so that you could take it and he helped you to sit down, then placed the brush in your hand and went behind you.

You could feel how stiff your muscles were as your whole body tensed up, that nervousness spreading through you. You held up the brush, trying your hardest to keep your focus on the very intimidating scenery in front of you—it looked to be a house in the middle of a garden in the mountains, a beautiful landscape you would have admired if it were any other time. Benedict’s hand brushed over your wrist to level it with the canvas but your nightmare flashed before your eyes, making your hand twitch. Benedict immediately pulled his hand back.

“Sorry, I figured it’d be easier—”

“No it’s…” you paused for a moment. “It’s fine. You can hold my hand but not my wrist.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you said, your body still tense. “It’s just that uh, I broke it when I was little, it didn’t really heal right.”

Benedict hissed in a breath. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, doesn’t hurt unless it’s really cold,” you said. “So are we going to paint or?”

“We are,” he said and his hand engulfed yours so that he could dip the brush in paint, then took it to the canvas so that he could guide your movements. His other hand rested on your waist, almost burning your flesh beneath the soft nightgown.

“Relax your hand a little,” he murmured, letting out a noise of approval when you did as he asked. “And your wrist.”

Alright, you had not thought this through.

The warmth of his body right behind you was almost pulling you into a haze along with his irresistible scent tickling your nostrils. You closed your eyes for a moment before you opened them again to see him guiding the brush in your hand over the canvas.

“And you don’t have to really press it that hard, just very slowly…” his low murmur caressed your ears and to be honest at this point, you had no idea whether you were painting a rose or a house or a goddamn planet. All you wanted was to turn around and press your lips to his, those tingles between your legs coming back with their full force, making it so hard to even think about anything else other than him but you bit at your tongue, forcing yourself to focus.

“And those are the petals right there.”

You blinked a couple of times as you gawked at the rose in the garden full of green, and let out a breath.

“Wow.”

“See? I’d plan how I’m going to rule the art world if I were you, you certainly have the talent for it.”

A giggle escaped from your lips. “No you painted that, not me.”

“You’re the one holding the brush.”

“You’re holding it with me!” you retorted and he hummed.

“Every great artist starts from somewhere,” he stated. “Do you want another one?”

You nodded fervently and he chuckled, then started guiding your hand again, making your head spin from excitement. Your heart was beating in your ears as you watched the brush strokes on the canvas, then licked at your lips.

“Benedict?”

“Yes?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything,” he muttered and you swallowed thickly.

“Why did you…” you trailed off, stealing a look at the other canvas. “Why would you paint me?”

He dipped the brush in the paint again before guiding it back to the canvas.

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on,” he answered as if it was the simplest question in the world. “How could I not paint you?”

Your heart beat got even faster as you bit on your lip, not even aware of just how relaxed your body was while you stared at the finished rose. Your back was resting on his chest, his hand over yours and for a moment it felt so good that it almost caused you pain to pull away from him.

“I um…” you cleared your throat and slipped down to get up from the stool before putting the brush back on the table, then you turned around to look up at him. “I should go I think.”

“Alright,” his voice was low as your eyes captured his and for a moment, you could only stand there and admire his handsome face, painfully aware of just how close you two were standing. If you only pushed the stool away, you could—

You could not.

You were not going to do that.

You averted your eyes from his and stepped away from him to grab the oil lamp and he let out a breath as if trying to pull himself together. You walked to the door and offered him a curt smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Of course,” he said softly and you left the room, making your way to the end of the hallway and closed your eyes for a moment, leaning back to the wall. Your hand shot up to your chest to feel your heart pacing and you heaved a sigh, biting at your lip.

Then opened your eyes and started walking to your room, fanning yourself with your hand.

“Aw Clover, I’m so glad you decided to visit!”

You gave your aunt a big smile and handed her the lavender bouquet, and she gasped before taking them from you.

“You’re the absolute sweetest.”

“Far from it,” you said as you kissed her cheek and went to your uncle. “And don’t think I forgot bringing you a gift.”

“Oh I get flowers as well?” he asked as you pecked his cheek, then held up the small package.

“A new handkerchief for your glasses,” you said proudly, “The shop owner said these were specifically made for that purpose.”

His jaw dropped as he opened the package and pulled you into a hug.

“Thank you dearest,” he said, putting the handkerchief into his pocket. “I must admit, I’m glad you’re happy in your new home and that you live close by but we do miss you terribly all the same.”

“I miss you too!” you said as your aunt asked the maids to bring some tea and biscuits and you sat down. “Is Teddy here by the way?”

“With Josie,” your aunt said. “Apparently Andrew has bought him a pony.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“When he said he would, I didn’t take him seriously,” your uncle mused. “But apparently he was not jesting.”

You let out a laugh and shook your head.

“Unbelievable.”

“I mean who wouldn’t love Teddy though?” your aunt said. “He’s an angel.”

Your uncle nodded. “He really is,” he said. “So when are you and your husband coming for dinner?”

Your head shot up and you blinked a couple of times.

“Oh we haven’t…are you inviting us?” you asked and they exchanged glances, wearing the same smiles.

“Since when do you need an invite? It’s your house,” your aunt said as your uncle nodded.

“And you’re always welcome, but yes we are officially inviting you and Benedict for dinner sometime.”

You swallowed thickly. “I’ll ask,” you said. “I’m sure he’d love it as well.”

One of the maids came carrying a tray of tea and biscuits and your aunt tilted her head, stealing a look at your uncle who seemed to have gotten the clue because he stood up from the sofa. You thanked the maid and turned to look at him.

“Where are you going?”

“I need to go over some papers in my office,” he said. “Make sure to see me before you leave hm?”

“Of course,” you said and he kissed your aunt’s hand, making her smile before he left the drawing room.

“I really missed you,” you told your aunt and she raised her brows, still smiling.

“Did you?” she teased you. “I would have thought you didn’t have the time to miss anyone.”

A fire spread over your cheeks and you shifted your weight. Your aunt and uncle -just like the rest of Benedict’s family- were convinced that you two were having a quite busy honeymoon. Now it made sense that your uncle had left the room, because of course your aunt wanted to ask questions to make sure you were…

Content.

You made yourself busy with reaching out for your tea cup to take a sip.

“Auntie…” you whined and she let out a laugh.

“We’re both married women and we both know what I am talking about.”

Half of you was beginning to wish that you and Benedict had consummated your marriage for the sole purpose of not feeling this uncomfortable while lying to everyone.

And the other half of you was thinking consummating your marriage would not be such a terrible idea after last night, after feeling that fire upon him just standing that close to you, his scent in your lungs, his hand over yours—

“Aw, look at you!” your aunt had apparently taken the abashed look on your face as the result of good nightly activities and you hastily put your cup on the coffee table, then took a deep breath.

“Benedict is…”

Handsome.

While you knew you couldn’t possibly say that, it still made you pause. Benedict was incredibly attractive and you certainly wasn’t the first or only lady in the ton to think that. Judging by how in demand he was among ladies before you got married -and even now, you were guessing- it was no wonder you felt this way.

But this desire was beginning to cloud your judgement.

The good news was that you hadn’t had those nightmares after you had gone to sleep last night, but the bad news was that you had had another dream that made you wake up quite breathless for a completely different reason. Just imagining him like that was enough to send those sparks through you, and you could barely look Benedict in the eye this morning because of that.

“Nice,” you ended up saying. “He’s really nice.”

“Then your first night was not unpleasant as you thought it would be?”

You nibbled on your lip and shook your head.

At least that wasn’t a lie.

“I’m glad to hear it,” she said. “Honestly, the way you two look at each other…It’s so obvious you’re madly in love.”

“No we don’t,” you paused. “We don’t look at each other like that in—in public.”

“Oh you don’t even realize it do you?” she asked. “Honey, you two look at each other like you cannot see anyone else in the room.”

Of course you two weren’t looking at each other like that. While it was true that you often felt like Benedict was the only person in the room whenever he was within your sight even in the crowd, you were certain that your aunt was talking about your pretense, nothing more.

“That’s love,” she insisted. “And it is absolutely the most beautiful feeling in the world.”

You swallowed thickly and took a sip of your tea.

“Right,” you said. “Yeah, love. It really is an interesting feeling.”

You had excused yourself right after the dinner and gone straight to your room. Not only were you so incredibly flustered by how you kept remembering your dream from last night if you so much as looked at Benedict, you were also very sleepless and in need of some rest.

And yet, all that exhaustion was apparently not enough to keep the nightmares at bay.

You jolted awake in bed, gasping for air, your eyes snapping open into moonlit room. You could feel your whole body shaking and a sob escaped from you, making you take a deep breath in hopes of calming yourself down but it was no use. You pressed your palms into your eyes as you sat up in bed, your jaw clenched so hard that it almost hurt your whole head.

That lump in your throat felt like it was growing bigger as your nightmare flashed before your eyes and you lowered your hands, trying to stop the tears by blinking fast. You pushed the covers off of you and swung your legs over the bed but the fear was rushing through your veins so fast that for a second you felt as if your legs would give in if you so much as tried to stand up. You frowned to yourself and slowly got up from bed, then shook your head at yourself.

Jesus Christ, you needed to pull yourself together.

You wiped at your eyes again and walked to fill yourself a glass of water from the jug on the table, then downed it in huge gulps. It didn’t seem to calm you down as much as you hoped you would but it was still better than nothing, so you took another deep breath and checked the clock on the wall.

Midnight.

Of course.

You lingered in your spot for a moment, biting at your lip then walked to the door to open it, then looked outside. There was no sign of any movement or light in the house, and Benedict’s door was closed so it meant he was sleeping. You stepped back into your own room and stole a look at the door connecting your room to Benedict’s, the one you kept locked. You approached it and leaned in, trying to pick up any noise but there was none.

After last night, after having seen Benedict and sharing that moment with him in the studio, you had been able to sleep without any nightmares.

You thought for a moment and cleared your throat, then before you could change your mind, you unlocked the door and knocked on it.

“Benedict?” you whispered but of course there was no answer. You tried to ignore the nervousness bubbling in your stomach and closed your eyes for a moment, let out a breath, then opened your eyes again and half opened the door.

You could make out his sleeping form in the bed under the moonlight so you licked your lips and tried again.

“Benedict!”

That seemed to have woken him up and he rubbed at his eyes.

“Y/N?” he asked, his voice coming out as a rasp and he sat up in bed and just like that, your mind stopped working in an instant.

He was naked.

Well, half naked but it barely made any difference. You thought your whole face—your whole body—caught fire as your eyes raked over his muscular torso, that familiar throbbing between your legs coming back in its full force. He looked like a perfectly made sculpture, and for a moment you couldn’t hear anything because of the blood rushing in your ears, desire roaring through you.

“Are you alright?” his voice shot through the haze and you snapped back to your senses, thanking darkness for concealing your hungry gaze.

“Y-yeah, were you-” you stammered, trying to pull yourself together. “Were you sleeping?”

Great. As it turned out, seeing Benedict half naked managed to turn you into a goddamn idiot.

Benedict paused for a moment, then cleared his throat, running a hand over his eyes.

“Yeah but it’s okay,” he assured you. “What happened?”

“I was just wondering…” you gulped down and motioned at the door. “If I um—if I can keep it open for the night? Is that okay?”

“Of course,” he said. “Is everything alright?”

You leaned sideways to the doorframe and nodded. “Uh huh.”

“Did you have a nightmare?”

You paused for a moment and nodded again, biting inside your cheek.

“Yeah but I can handle them,” you said. “Anyway, I just wanted to ask that. Sorry about waking you up, I’ll just…keep it open for the night.”

“Or you could—” he said in a haste as soon as you took a step back into your room and you turned around to look at him better. “You could sleep here.”

Your heart skipped a beat, nervousness and excitement melting into each other until you had no idea what you were feeling and you pulled back slightly, your hesitation making him sit up straighter.

“Just sleep,” he added quickly. “I swear to you. Just… I don’t think you should be alone if you’re having nightmares.”

You stood there in complete silence for a couple of seconds, your thoughts like a storm in your head before you took a deep breath and licked your lips.

“Just sleep?” you asked and he nodded fervently.

“Just sleep, I promise you.”

You shifted your weight, then went back into your room to grab multiple pillows off your bed. You made them into a pile and gathered them into your arms, then made your way back into Benedict’s room, barely able to see where you were going because of the pillows in your line of sight.

“I have pillows here,” he said, rushing to help you and you shook your head.

“No I know,” you said, trying your hardest to keep your focus on the bed as he took the pillows from you, then placed them on the bed.

Dear God, he looked so good.

“Then?”

You forced yourself to look up at him. “Huh?”

“Why are you bringing them with you?” he asked as he sat on the bed and you licked your lips, then started putting the pillows right between where you and he would be sleeping. Benedict tilted his head.

“Ah.”

“So that we…” you trailed off, still forcing yourself to keep yourself busy with the pillows and Benedict chuckled.

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have the pillow counterpart of Great Wall of China on my bed,” he commented and you shrugged your shoulders, pulling back when all the pillows were placed between you.

“See? So that we don’t accidentally cross into each other’s space.”

He nodded slowly. “Would you like to put a sword there as well?” he asked with a small grin. “Like Tristan and Isolde?”

“I never really liked that story,” you answered, your whole face still on fire while you tried your hardest not to gawk at his naked torso and he hummed.

“Why?”

“I don’t like annoying protagonists.”

“They were in love.”

“Eh, it’s the same thing,” you pointed out. “Everything aside, it’s simply not realistic.”

“Well, myths aren’t exactly known for their accuracy to real life.”

“No one dies of a broken heart,” you insisted and stole a look at his muscular body, then gulped loudly. “Any—anyways, I’m going to sleep now.”

You laid down and casted a glance to the pillows which were so high that you couldn’t even see him if you wanted.

And you really, really wanted it.

You frowned, reprimanding yourself in your head and squeezed your eyes shut, feeling the bed dip on the other side as Benedict laid down as well. You stole another look at the pillow wall to your side and nibbled on your lip.

“Benedict?”

You could almost hear his smile. “Hm?”

“My aunt and uncle want us to attend dinner in their house sometime.”

“That’s nice of them. When?”

“When are you free?”

“Whenever you want me to,” he said and you licked your lips, turning in bed to run your fingernail over one of the many pillows between you.

“Thursday?”

“Of course,” he said and paused. “Oh, my mother invited us as well by the way. Whenever you want.”

“What?”

“Yeah. She reprimanded me for not telling you today.”

You frowned and sat up so that you could see him. “Reprimanded you? When exactly did she invite us?”

He gave you that charming lopsided grin. “Like three days ago—”

“Benedict!”

“We’re technically in our honeymoon,” he said, still grinning and you shot him a look. “Just let them wait before they question us about literally everything, because in case it has escaped your notice, my family tends to be quite chaotic.”

You heaved a dramatic sigh, trying not to melt at that handsome grin.

“You need to tell me these things,” you insisted and he held up his hands.

“My deepest, heartfelt apologies,” he said. “But seriously. They can wait.”

“No they cannot,” you shook your head. “Besides, I quite like your family, chaotic or not.”

A soft light glimmered in his blue gaze and you looked up at the ceiling.

“I just need to make a plan because if we go to their house for dinner, we should invite them within a week,” you said. “Same with my uncle—just clear out your schedule for dinners this week, alright?”

“As my lady wishes,” he said and for a moment it hit you just how married you two sounded but contrary to what you would expect, the thought didn’t fill you with dread. On the contrary, it sent a strange warmth through you and you frowned slightly, then took a deep breath and slipped deeper into covers. You turned a little so that you could face the pillows to your side and bit on your lip, running your fingertips over the silk pillowcase. There was some movement on the other side and for a moment you imagined him doing the same, facing you even if you two couldn’t see each other.

“Good night Mrs. Bridgerton,” his voice was soft despite his teasing and a smile curled your lips, that warmth rushing through you again.

“Good night Mr. Bridgerton.”

Chapter Text

The very first thing you noticed through the fuzzy fog of sleep was warmth.

Warmth and perfect comfort.

The sound of the birds chirping outside the window was like a soft melody in your ears, the sunlight spilling through the curtains falling on your skin making you feel all snug. You heaved a mellow sigh, shifting a little in bed but—

Oh.

You weren’t alone in the bed.

The memory of last night where you had come to Benedict’s room to sleep shot through your mind, making your eyes open. You were quite certain you had put multiple pillows between the two of you -most of which were thrown to the floor sometime at night, as you could see- and you waited for the discomfort to hit you especially considering the position you were in, but somehow it did not.

Benedict’s arm was curled around your stomach, keeping you safe from falling off the very edge of the bed you had apparently curled up on in your sleep. You two still had a pillow between you and the cover he had pushed off of him was bunched up between you two but as it turned out, even that wasn’t enough for him to roll to the other side. His nose was buried into your hair, his calm breathing moving his hard chest you were leaning your back against, his pleasant scent all over you, tickling your nostrils.

This wasn’t uncomfortable at all.

You shifted a little so that you could subtly get closer to him but as soon as you did, the cover bunched up between you and him moved a bit and you heard him inhale behind you. You instantly closed your eyes, pretending to have moved in your sleep and his arm around you tightened while he nuzzled his nose into your hair. You could almost feel him slowly waking up and for a couple of seconds he did nothing, but then you felt his body tense up behind you. A soft cuss left his lips in a whisper and he gently pulled back from you before getting up from the bed then you heard him walk out of the room, making you open your eyes and sit up in bed. You bit inside your cheek, perking your ears up for any noise of him coming back but there seemed to be none.

“Alright then…” you muttered and made your way to your own room to get ready for the day, trying to ignore how fast your heart was still beating.

By the time you heard Benedict coming back to his room, your maid was almost finished with helping you get dressed and was tying up the laces of your dress. The knock on the door connecting your room to Benedict’s made you turn your head as your maid finished tying up the laces and pulled back.

“You may leave Paula, thank you,” you said and she curtsied, then walked out of the room. You made your way to the connecting door and opened it.

Oh God damn it.

He was still half naked, the sunlight falling over his chest that made him look like he was pulled out of your very specific dreams. You swallowed thickly, forcing yourself to keep your eyes on his handsome face but that wasn’t exactly helping either.

“Good morning,” he gave you a lopsided grin and you smiled back.

“Hello.”

“I thought you’d be…” he motioned back at his room and you shook your head.

“Oh you weren’t there when I woke up and I was already awake so I figured I could just get ready.”

He paused for a moment.

“Yeah I—” he paused, a faint pinkness appearing on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “I thought you’d sleep a bit more.”

You shrugged your shoulders quietly and his blue eyes searched your face.

“And are you alright?” he asked. “Nightmares last night?”

“I didn’t have them after going to sleep again,” you said, purposely leaving out the part about sleeping in his bed. “And um…thank you. You know.”

He shook his head vigorously. “You don’t need to thank me at all, really.”

“No I do, and I don’t know what got into me last night but I can assure you I won’t make it a habit or anything.”

He gulped down and stared at you for a moment before taking a deep breath.

“I wouldn’t mind it,” he said, his voice soft. “If it became a habit.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you tilted your head to the side, pulling your brows together.

“Not the nightmares, obviously!” he added in a haste. “Just afterwards. Whenever—whenever you want.”

Your eyes snapped up to his, that warmth spreading through your system again but before you could say anything, you heard the butler approach so you turned your head.

“Sir,” he said as he handed Benedict an envelope, “This came for you. And ma’am, Miss Harlowe is here.”

Benedict looked up from the envelope. “Charlie?”

“Oh I’ll go and welcome her,” you said while Benedict pulled out a card from the envelope that looked like an invitation of the sort, then looked over his shoulder into his room.

“I’ll be right there,” he said and you walked past the butler to make your way downstairs, then approached the drawing room.

“Lottie,” you said, a smile curling your lips as soon as you saw her and she let out a giggle before coming to hug you.

“I know it is quite early but I simply couldn’t wait any longer,” she said. “I missed you and Benny! I’m aware it’s your honeymoon but—”

“Oh don’t be silly,” you said. “I am very glad you’re here. I was going to invite you to the park today if you didn’t.”

“Perhaps after you give me a tour?” she asked and bounced on the balls of her feet. “It looks so beautiful here! And the garden, absolutely gorgeous!”

Your stomach did a small flip.

“Our gardener is amazing.”

“Have you had the chance to work on it as well?”

“The garden?” you asked and shook your head. “I um…haven’t got the time.”

She snapped her fingers. “Of course. My mama said you’d be quite busy while you’re on your honeymoon.”

Great, now even Charlotte’s mother was making assumptions about you and Benedict’s nightly activities.

“Right,” you said. “Maybe later I might. Did you have breakfast yet?”

“I did but I could get some tea,” she said. “In the garden? I saw the gazebo, we must simply enjoy it!”

“Sounds like a wonderful idea.”

“And then the house tour, then the park.”

“Hello Charlie,” Benedict’s voice made Charlotte’s whole face light up and she wrapped her arms around his neck when he hugged her, lifting her off the floor as he did, making her squeal. For a moment you wondered how on earth the ton thought they were courting before your wedding, because they were close yes, but even the tiniest gestures had no sign of romance in them.

It was the comfort of a friend, not a lover.

“Did we make plans today?” he asked her as he put her down and you crossed your arms.

“She’s here to see me.”

Benedict tilted his head like a confused puppy. “But she’s my best friend.”

“No, she’s my best friend. Your best friend is Anthony.”

“Anthony is my brother.”

“That sounds like your issue, not mine,” you deadpanned, biting down a smile and Charlotte giggled.

“I brought you work I’m afraid,” she said and grabbed the paper stack neatly bound in a leather case off the table, then handed it to Benedict. “I’m here to have tea with your beloved, then go to the park with her.”

Benedict clutched at his heart dramatically, making you grin.

“Told you,” you said. “What work?”

“Oh I can tell you later on,” Charlotte said as she pulled you by the hand to the door. “Come on! Let’s go to the garden!”

After taking your tea in the gazebo and a house tour, you and Charlotte decided you could go outside for the afternoon. You had sent Josie a short letter so that she, Bess and Andrew could join you at the part if they wanted and about half an hour after getting there, Josie and Bess joined you at the park, while Andrew apparently was already outside with his friends.

“I didn’t know you were a writer!” Bess told Charlotte and you nodded.

“Me neither!”

Charlotte let out a laugh.

“Oh I’m not a writer,” she said. “I just write some stories to entertain my little siblings. I’m trying to have my own collection, and Benny is doing the illustrations for me.”

“Will you publish your stories?” you asked and Charlotte thought for a moment.

“Benny encourages me that I should,” she said. “So does Tony but…I don’t know. Perhaps one day in the future.”

“Can I read them before they are published?” you asked. “I’d love to read them to Teddy, he loves stories.”

“Of course!” Charlotte said. “I can bring you the completed ones the next time. There’s one with a dragon, I think Teddy would like it.”

“Speaking of him,” Josie said. “Did I tell you Andrew bought a pony for him? An actual pony!”

“Auntie told me,” you said with a laugh. “He’s delighted I’m sure. I wish I were there to see it.”

“At least he doesn’t pout for not being able to see you everyday anymore,” Bess said. “It was making me sad.”

Charlotte heaved a sigh. “Was he very upset?”

You could feel your own heart breaking as you cleared your throat.

“He’s just not used to me being anywhere else,” you said. “It’s always been the two of us—well three of us,” you motioned at Josie who shook her head.

“I was just there when he was a baby,” she said. “It’s been only you and him for a while.”

“And your mama and papa?” Charlotte asked, making you and Josie exchange glances. “I’m sure they miss Teddy and you both! I know they couldn’t come to the wedding, but…”

A shiver ran down your spine and you clicked your tongue.

“They cannot travel,” you ended up saying as Bess reached out to squeeze Josie’s hand as if trying to assure her that she was there. Charlotte thought for a moment.

“Will you and Benedict visit them then?”

Even the thought was enough to make your jaw clench but you reminded yourself to keep a calm facade and shrugged your shoulders.

“Maybe after the season ends,” you lied through your teeth. “I don’t wish to miss anything, this is my first season.”

Bess stole a look at Josie who looked way too tense and smiled, sitting up straighter.

“And how is marriage going for you, Y/N?” she asked. “Are you getting used to running your household?”

“I went to auntie with a list the other day,” you admitted, making them laugh. “No I’m serious. It’s a bit confusing but I think I’m starting to understand.”

“I can always help you,” Bess said and Charlotte grinned.

“So can I! I know I’m not married yet but I know some stuff about it, my mama taught me a lot.”

“I appreciate it, both of you.”

“In return, you can give me some clues about how to take care of plants.”

You pulled your brows together. “Bess, you have a gardener.”

“Well yes but I’m trying to grow this rose in a vase because I saw this journal talking about it,” Bess said. “In every window a red rose—anyway, I cannot exactly ask my gardener because I feel like killing five roses in two weeks is going to personally upset him.”

You blinked a couple of times. “That’s not even supposed to be possible.”

“Mm hm,” Josie said. “Ask her how often she waters the roses.”

“How often?”

Bess shrugged her shoulders. “Three times a day.”

“You’re doing what?” you exclaimed, making Josie let out a laugh.

“Yeah. Told you.”

“Why are you not stopping her?”

“She doesn’t listen to me!”

Bess flailed her hands. “I get hungry three times a day, it’s only fair.”

You buried your face into your palms with a whine, then lowered your hands.

“Bess,” you said. “I will visit your house today and write you a schedule just for that, how does that sound?”

“Perfect, thank you.” Bess said with her nose up in the air. “I’ve always thought we should leave the work to experts anyway.”

You had to admit, over the last week you had missed taking care of your garden so much that taking care of Bess’s roses felt like itching a scratch. After getting home around dinner time -because neither Bess nor Andrew were willing to let you go any time earlier- you had learned from the butler that Benedict was in his studio. Though you really wanted to see him, you decided otherwise and after a quick dinner, you went outside to the gazebo with an oil lamp and a book under your arm.

If you couldn’t take care of your garden and grow flowers, you were just going to read about them instead.

You were quite certain that this book was rather new, and you had a feeling Benedict had stacked up multiple shelves in the library with whatever book he could find on plants and flowers without telling you. The hardcover was so smooth that for a second you just ran your fingertips over the engraving over it, then made yourself comfortable by resting your feet on the other side of the bench, leaning your back to the arm of the bench. You placed the book on your legs, the peaceful sound of the water fountain in the evening surrounding you, making you heave a sigh. Your eyes stole a quick glance at the lit-up window of Benedict’s study but then you frowned and opened the book, ready to lose yourself in the illustrations and the information about flowers.

You were so engrossed by the book that after hours you still hadn’t even looked up once, and it was only when you heard someone clear their throat that your head shot up. Benedict shot you that crooked smile, crossing his arms and leaning sideways to the entrance of gazebo.

“Riveting read?”

“Quite so,” you said as you held up the book so that he could see the title, then motioned at the window of his study. “Have you already finished Charlotte’s illustrations?”

“Oh she told you?”

“Mm hm,” you said. “She even said I could read some of her completed stories.”

Benedict raised his brows. “She must really like you,” he said. “I had to beg her all those years ago just to read one of them.”

You shot him a grin. “Perhaps I’m stealing your best friend.”

“Looks like it,” he played along. “How was the park?”

You thought for a moment, Charlotte’s question about your parents echoing in your ears before you cleared your throat.

“It was fine,” you said. “Less so when I heard Bess is the Locusta of plants.”

“She poisons her plants?”

“In a way yes,” you said. “Apparently she watered her roses three times a day.”

“I’m guessing from the tone of your voice and the appalled look on your face that it’s the wrong thing to do?”

You shot him a lighthearted glare. “Good guess.”

Benedict chuckled and nodded in the direction of the house. “Are you coming or?”

You hesitated for a second, then shook your head.

“You go ahead,” you said. “I have a feeling that sleep will evade me tonight.”

“Why?”

You tried to ignore the shiver shooting through you upon remembering your nightmare, and after today’s conversation with Charlotte about your parents, you just knew you would not be getting a good night’s sleep tonight.

And it wasn’t as if you could just keep waking Benedict up, that had to be annoying for him you were sure.

“Just a feeling,” you shrugged your shoulders. “You should go to sleep though. I heard you barely left your studio the whole day, you must be exhausted.”

Benedict pulled his brows together. “Who told you that?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, then grinned.

“The housekeeper likes me better than she likes you I suppose.”

His jaw dropped. “Mrs. Alton…” he said with a shake of his head. “There I thought we had something special.”

You scoffed a laugh and his eyes searched your face, his smile slightly fading.

“Are you alright though?”

You bit inside your cheek and nodded.

“Sure,” you lied. “I’ll just um—I just need some distraction I guess. I mean here is peaceful but…” you trailed off. “Inside my head is not, sometimes.”

“I could tell,” he said softly and you took a deep breath.

“One of those nights,” you said. “I’ll be fine.”  

He thought for a moment, his gaze on you as if he was trying to decide on something, then he cleared his throat.

“A distraction, you say?”

You nodded your head and he tilted his head, that mischievous smile curling his lips again.

“Do you want to go to a party?”

“This is insane,” you heard yourself say as Benedict led you through the crowd, his hand resting on the small of your back. “Is this…is this real?”

He shot you a wink, clearly pleased with your reaction and nodded at someone who shouted his name cheerfully while you tried to soak in the environment as much as you could.

This was beyond your wildest dreams.

The house itself was huge and if you had seen it any other time, you would have assumed it was just some other house that belonged to a yet another member of the ton but apparently, you would have been wrong. Though you had never been to a party before, you had heard about them, yet nothing you heard had described you this.

Everyone looked just…

Free.

There was music coming from one of the rooms in the hallway, some people drinking and smoking and your eyes caught the sight of a couple that were kissing by the corner, where people could see them. Even the mere thought was enough to send a fire through your cheeks but you forced yourself to look around the rest of the room so as not to stare, as difficult as it felt. As you and Benedict walked through the hallway, you could see a couple of closed doors, the chatter of the crowd and the laughter echoing through the walls. You walked past a room with multiple canvases and a couple of people sketching, and a room where someone seemed to be giving a talk about a book to a crowd, making you think that most of the people attending were artists and writers. The party seemed to be going on in multiple floors of the house and when you got closer to the main room where the music was coming from, Benedict stopped you.

“Y/N.”

You took a peek inside the room, already impatient to go in there and turned to him. “Hm?”

“I’d like to start by saying, this might not be like any party you’ve attended before.”

“I haven’t attended any parties before,” you pointed out and a look of realization dawned on his face as if he hadn’t thought about it before.

“Right,” he said. “So here’s the thing, you might see certain things that…”

“What?”

“That you might consider as scandalous, but I can assure you—”

“Oh no, something scandalous,” you deadpanned, then shot him a look. “What am I going to do, faint?”

He raised his brows. “I know you think you’re making a point but you did faint before.”

You pushed at his arm slightly, making him chuckle.

“Not because of a scandal!” you insisted and lowered your voice. “I would have fainted at our scandal if I were to do such a thing, that one ended up with us getting married!”

Benedict nodded his head. “True. But still, we’re only here to have fun, and we will go home whenever you want—”

“Are you jesting?” you asked. “I’m not going home! Come on, look at this place, I’ve never… I’ve never seen anything like this.”

Benedict smiled softly.

“Alright,” he said. “As you wish.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and let out a giddy giggle, then stepped into the room. There was a crowd but Benedict seemed to know almost everyone, greeting people while you made your way through the room and Benedict grabbed two glasses of drinks, then gave one to you as you sat down on one of the sofas.

“Is this where Lady Whistledown said you were going all this time?” you asked, looking up at him, still in a daze and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I doubt Lady Whistledown knows of this.”

“But was it?”

“Mm hm.”

“How do people—” you paused. “How does no one know about here?”

“Well, parties take place in different places, it’s not just one house,” he said. “Some of them even downtown.”

“I’ve never been downtown before,” you said quickly, your head almost buzzing with the promise of a new world and Benedict smiled at your enthusiasm.

“We can go there the next time.”

“Wait, seriously?” you asked and he nodded.

“Of course. If you want to—”

“I do want to,” you cut him off. “But my aunt would always say it’s incredibly dangerous.”

“If you were going by yourself yes,” he said. “But you’ll be with me so no. Not dangerous.”

You smiled brightly, watching the people in the room while Benedict kept his gaze on you, a soft smile warming his face. You saw a lady sipping her drink and looked down at your glass, then took a sip but as soon as the liquid burned your throat you coughed.

“Wow,” you cleared your throat. “What is this?”

“It’s called Warm Heart,” he said. “Lemon, rum, brandy, wine and sugar. Go easy on that one alright?”

You nodded and took another sip.

“Benedict, how come no one knows?” you asked. “I read about it on Whistledown or hear about it from multiple people if someone so much as breathes wrong and in here…”

He clicked his tongue. “No one will spread the word because everyone you see here are likeminded individuals.”

“Artists?”

“Artists, writers, sculptors… And some just admirers. Essentially just people who see the stifling expectations and rules of the ton as they are; complete nonsense.”

You let out a breath, trying to wrap your mind around it. “You’re all friends then? You seem to know everyone.”

He gave you a smirk. “It’s a small circle.”

You swirled the drink in the glass and looked around again, curiosity and excitement making your heart beat faster. To be in a place where one could do whatever they wanted was such an unfamiliar thing that it made your mind fuzzy, your ears muffled because of the blood rushing through them.

You could even kiss Benedict right here in front of all these people and no one would say anything.

Not that-

Not that you would do that, ever. But it was a lovely thought to even imagine.

“Well I know who you are,” a voice snapped you out of your daze and you lifted your head to see someone clasping Benedict by the shoulder, making him chuckle. “But I have no idea who this exquisite vision is supposed to be.”

The man was older than you and Benedict, seemed to be absolutely delighted to see Benedict and there was a playful glimmer in his eyes as his gaze fell on you. You smiled at him.

“Hello.”

“Sir Henry Granville,” Benedict introduced him, making you raise your brows. “My wife, Y/N Bridgerton.”

Your heart skipped a beat upon him calling you such. You knew you two were married but you were beginning to think you would never get used to your new title, and how it filled you with giddiness though you tried to not let it show on your expression.

“The painter?” you asked as you forced yourself to focus and he bowed.

“Proudly so,” he said. “And I gather you’re the infamous beauty that made our handsome and bright artist change his ways.”

You let out a small laugh. “You’re very kind, Sir Granville.”

“Trust me, I am merely sincere,” he said. “My apologies for not being able to attend your wedding breakfast by the way. I have…” he motioned with his hand. “Complicated feelings about weddings.”

“Don’t we all?” you asked back and he chuckled.

“I must introduce you to my wife Lucy, she will love you. Perhaps a house tour hm?”

Benedict cleared his throat and reached out to hold your hand.

“That’s not going to happen Henry,” he said, making you frown slightly and look between them as he squeezed at your hand. “We’re just here to drink, nothing more. Ever.”

Well, that was a very definite stance against a house tour.

Sir Granville’s smile widened and he held up his hands.

“Understood,” he said. “Love. It makes one quite possessive, I would know.”

Alright, you were getting quite confused now but before you could ask what he meant, he had already clapped his hands together.

“Your wife might be here to drink but you my friend, are not,” he said. “I have some friends I must introduce you to. I may have shown them a sketch of yours and now they don’t shut up about your talent.”

Benedict tilted his head. “What sketch?”

“The one from the last party.”

Benedict groaned. “Henry, I was half drunk—”

“Well they loved it anyway, so come on!” he slapped his arm. “Come with me, promising artist. They are quite excited to meet you.”

Benedict turned to look at you and you shook your head fervently.

“Oh you go ahead,” you said. “I will stay. It sounds like an artists only environment and I’d rather enjoy my drink here.”

“I don’t think…” Benedict trailed off and you tilted your head.

“Go!” you said with a laugh. “I survive balls with members of the ton nightly, I think I can handle being left alone for a while in a crowd.”

“She will be fine Ben,” Sir Granville said. “Come on.”

Benedict heaved a sigh and stood up. “Darling just don’t go anywhere, alright?”

“Mm hm.”

“And if somebody wants to take you somewhere—”

“I will just ignore you if you stay here any longer,” you said and sipped your drink, “Besides, you know I can take care of myself. Or did you forget about your own gift?”

His eyes lingered down to your cleavage before snapping up to your face again and you shot him a bright smile.

“Have fun!” you said and Sir Granville bowed, then they both walked out of the room.

Wow.

This was more freedom than you had gotten ever since you had arrived in London—or your whole life, really. The fact that Benedict trusted you enough to actually leave you be in such an environment made a smile pull at your lips, then you sipped your drink, leaning back.

You hadn’t even read about such gatherings before, which you assumed wasn’t so surprising. The high society of London did not even let unmarried ladies smell certain flowers, let alone knowing about such parties. Every unmarried lady had to be perfect in the eyes of the ton and her suitors, and it didn’t really change when it came to being married, just with more responsibilities. You were quite certain that if you had married anyone else but Benedict -even the thought made your stomach churn- you would have never known about the existence of such events; you would be left in the dark because of this nonsense belief that you were to be sheltered and coddled, even if it was the last thing you wanted.

That was simply condescending.

By the time you finished your drink, you were already itching to see more of the house. You shifted a little in your spot, biting at your nail and casted a glance at the door before leaning back again.

No.

You had said you would stay put.

But wasn’t that against the whole point of tonight? Everyone did whatever they wanted with no one to judge them, and surely a quick look around wasn’t going to hurt anyone. You were sure Benedict wouldn’t even be back by the time you saw the rest of the house and returned here.

You nibbled on your lip and took a deep breath, then pushed yourself off the sofa and walked out of the room before you could change your mind.

The house was absolutely enormous. Whoever planned the party must have made sure there was some sort of entertainment in each part of the house even though some hallways were definitely less crowded than others. You walked away from the chatter and the crowd and looked up at the stairs before you quickly climbed them only to find yourself in another hallway. There were considerably fewer people in here and the music was only faint, coming from downstairs where you had just left so you tilted your head, then turned the corner to take a look at the paintings all over the walls.

Paintings of flowers.

You smiled to yourself as you walked deeper into the hallway, looking up at the dimly lit paintings by the oil lamps mounted on the walls, but a faint moan made you turn your head. You pulled your brows together and looked around, then stepped closer to the half closed door, taking a peek into the room through the crack.

And as soon as you did, your breath got caught in your throat.

Inside the room there were three people, one man and two women. The man had his shirt off, one of the women running her fingertips down his muscles while he kissed her and then he pulled back to help the other woman out of her corset, nimbly pulling at the laces. Her corset slipped off and she smirked before pulling him into a kiss as well while the other lady’s hand slipped lower until—

You gasped and pulled back from the door, your heart pacing against your ribcage. Your head was spinning so much and you took a step back, then rushed out of the hallway as if someone was chasing you.

How did that—

How did that even work?

You were under the impression that you knew everything that took place in marital bed so to speak, -though you were more than aware that people did not exactly stay loyal to their spouses or wait for marriage- and as far as you knew, it was just…

It was simple. Josie’s married friends had explained the act and it was unpleasant and simple, husband and wife joining…down there and then it was to be over.

Three people?

That was impossible, surely. In terms of physical means, though you had never seen a man naked, you had heard the whispers and saw the sketches that Josie’s friends had found in a book, giggling the whole time.  

You were so confused and lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice someone calling out, not that you would have paid attention to the unfamiliar voice through the chatter of the crowd. You turned another corner, your feet leading you what you hoped was the stairs but before you could take another step, someone grabbed you by the wrist.

It was like a bucket of cold water. Your body reacted before your mind had any chance to even think it through as you snapped out of your chaos of thoughts and turned to twist your wrist out of the person's grip before grabbing him by the neck to slam him against the wall, your other hand quickly pulling your pocket knife from your cleavage in the process so that you could rest the blade against his neck.

“Sorry! Sorry, that was very rude I know—”

“Do not touch me,” your voice came out as a growl and the man nodded fervently.

“Yeah! Yeah absolutely, no I know! I apologize, I normally introduce myself to people before grabbing at them—not that I grab at people!” he added in a haste. “I don’t grab at people but you…I swear I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I’m not making the same promise,” you said and he swallowed thickly.

“God, you have a terrifying glare.”

“It’s been said.”

“Yes and— please calm down.”

“I’m calm.”

“No I’m talking to myself,” he said, his voice coming out breathless. “It was addressed to me because I am not calm at all right now.”

You narrowed your eyes, tilting your head to actually pay attention to him. He had to be around your age and he looked rather cute with his curly hair and light brown eyes. He wasn’t as tall as Benedict but still taller than you and he took another trembling breath, making you look up at him.

“That’s a very sharp knife,” he said. “Where—where did you get it?”

“My husband gave it to me.”

A small whine escaped from his lips and he cleared his throat.

“You have a—of course you have a husband,” he said. “How about we start from the beginning? I’m Felix.”

“What am I supposed to do with that information?” you asked, your voice completely deadpan and his eyes searched yours.

“What’s your name?”

You raised your brows, still glaring at him and he licked his lips.

“Alright so even though I may have given off the wrong impression, I’m not…my intention is not to seduce you.”

You tried to repress the laugh bubbling at your throat as you scoffed.

“Seduce me?” you repeated and he nodded.

“I saw you walk by and I thought—my interest in you is completely artistic,” he stammered. “I promise. It’s just that, I’m a painter and you are very beautiful and I thought you were a figment of my drunk state, I didn’t even think about it and tried to stop you before you left forever so that I could…so that I could paint you from mind later on.”

Your eyes searched his face as you tried to see whether he was lying or not, but he looked completely genuine, albeit a bit intimidated. You rolled your eyes and pulled back from him, tucking the knife back into your cleavage.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered and he let out a breath.

“So may I know your name?” he asked and you eyed him up and down.

"No."

"Your last name then?"

“Bridgerton.”

His head shot up. “Bridgerton as in Benedict Bridgerton?”

“Yes.”

“Benedict is your husband? I know Benedict!” he said, suddenly cheerful. “We’re frie—wait a moment. You’re Y/N Bridgerton?”

“What of it?”

“The Venus Flytrap?” he asked. “The diamond in the rough? The Ice Queen?”

You rolled your eyes and turned around without so much as another look at him, then started walking down the hallway but he quickly caught up.

“I’ve heard people talk about you.”

“Shocking,” you said as you turned another corner and started going downstairs with Felix who seemed rather excited judging by the happy glimmer in his eyes.

“Can you really intimidate any lord with a glare?”

“If only,” you said curtly and entered the room you had left earlier. Your spot was still empty so you grabbed a glass from the tray and made your way there, Felix following you.

“As I said, I merely wish to paint you so if you would—”

“That is not going to happen,” you said, shaking your head and Felix opened his mouth but then got distracted when another man entered the room. He walked to the crowd by the corner and you tilted your head, looking between Felix who looked almost dazed and the man who stole a look at him, making Felix avert his eyes and clear his throat.

Oh.

You were quite familiar with that look, you had seen it in Andrew’s eyes a couple of times.

As it turned out, Felix was indeed only interested in you artistically.

You smiled slightly and raised your brows at Felix, then motioned at the armchair across from yours. He fixed his hair and sat down immediately.

“Ignore him,” you said with a nod of your head. “It tends to work.”

Felix blinked a couple of times. “Oh I don’t know what you mean—”

“Yes you do.”

He offered you a smile, getting a glass of drink as well and you leaned back.

“So you’re an artist?”

“Trying to be one, actually,” he said. “But I do not know if I have the talent for it. I hope I do.”

“Well, all the actually talented artists that I’ve met have that terrible self-doubt so I have a feeling you probably do have the talent for it,” you pointed out and he sat up straighter.

“Thank you,” he said. “So you’re married to Benedict?”

“Mm hm.”

“Is it true you were rude and cold to all your suitors until Benedict?”

You made a face. “That is not true at all,” you said. “I was also rude and cold to Benedict.”

He stared at you and let out a laugh. “Really?”

“Yes. Why are you surprised?”

“Well, ladies are always sweet with him whenever he so much as looks at them,” he said, waving a hand in the air. “Handsome and talented and all that.”

Jealousy spread through your throat but you managed to shrug your shoulders. “I’m well aware of that.”

“Not to mention, everyone keeps saying he will be a great artist,” Felix said and that was when it dawned on you.

This right there was exactly why Benedict had that self-doubt. This was why he was so hesitant on accepting any genuine compliments, if everyone thought and expected that of him, of course he was his own worst critic.

That had to have put some pressure on him.

“I’m sure he will be,” you said, barely aware of the proud tone of your voice and Felix nodded.

“Exactly.”

“What about you?”

“Me?”

“Do you think you will be a great artist?” you asked Felix and he gave you a happy grin.

“If only,” he said, his eyes glimmering with hope. “I dream of being one. Is that not the ultimate goal?”

“To be an artist?”

“To be immortal.”

You scrunched up your nose, then shook your head. “Not for me, no.”

“You wouldn’t want to be immortal?” he asked. “All the fame and glory?”

You thought for a moment, then shook your head again.

“Not at all.”

He gawked at you. “What is it that you want then?” he asked. “Your greatest desire? If you could have anything in the world.”

You took a sip of your drink and looked down at it, deep in thought. The image of your greatest desire used to be just you as a widow but apparently somewhere along the way that image had changed. For some reason, now that you were imagining yourself happy and having everything you wanted, you had a simple picture in your mind.

And this time, to your surprise, you weren’t alone.

You took a deep breath and frowned at the drink in your hand, then raised your head to look at Felix better.

“I want…” you trailed off. “I want a beautiful garden of my own and I want to be happy.”

Felix looked at you as if he was waiting for you to continue but when you didn’t, he pulled his brows together.

“Is that all?” he asked. “Surely there must be something else?”

“No,” you said. “That is all I want actually.”

“That simple?”

You let out a laugh and nodded.

“That simple,” you repeated. “Some of us don’t want fame and glory. That’s what we have the artists for.”

He looked at you as if he was waiting for you to say you were jesting but before he could say anything, you were already distracted. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Benedict walk into the room and he directly made his way to you, a smile curling your lips without you even noticing it.

“Benedict, your wife does not like the idea of becoming immortal.”

“My wife doesn’t like a lot of things Felix,” Benedict said with a warm smile and pressed a kiss on top of your head, making your heart skip a beat. You knew it was to sell the idea of you two being completely in love even here because though it was a private party, you could never be too careful. “Hello darling.”

You could swear your heart was melting inside your chest and you looked up at him, still smiling.

“Hello.”

“Are you alright?”

“Mm hm,” you nodded as he sat beside you and put his drink on the table. “I’m having fun. Look, I even made a friend.”

Felix gave Benedict a proud grin and Benedict chuckled.

“Is that right?”

“Right after she threatened me, yes.”

“Threatened?” Benedict asked and you waved a hand in the air, trying your hardest to keep the thought of what exactly you had seen before that out of your mind.

“A misunderstanding,” you said and Felix looked from Benedict to you, a smile pulling at his lips, then cleared his throat.

“Well, I’d better excuse myself and leave the lovers to their peace,” he said and stood up. “Benedict.”

“Felix.”

“Mrs. Bridgerton.”

“You can call me by my name,” you told him. “That’s the least I could do after accidentally threatening you.”

Felix let out a laugh, then shifted his weight. “But are you sure—”

“I am,” you answered before he could ask whether he could paint you. “I appreciate it though.”

Felix bowed and downed his drink, then walked away from you while Benedict turned to look at you better.

“What was that about?”

“Oh nothing,” you said. “We were just discussing something before you arrived. So how was your talk with Sir Granville’s friends?”

He rubbed the back of his neck and licked his lips.

“It was alright,” he said. “They were all very nice. All of them say I should apply for the Academy this season and not the next like I planned.”

Your eyes searched his handsome face and you took another sip of your drink, then sat up straighter.

“I am going to ask you something.”

He nodded. “You can ask me anything, you know that.”

“And you will answer truthfully?”

“Always.”

“Does it bother you when I say…” you paused for a moment and looked up at the ceiling, trying to find the right words. “Hearing it all the time ought to make you feel sort of pressured, no? When everyone says you’ll be a great artist?”

He thought for a moment, reaching out to grab his glass on the table to swirl the drink inside the glass before he took a big sip, and cleared his throat.

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “But with you it’s different.”

“How?”

Benedict swallowed thickly and took a deep breath.

“It gives me peace when you say it,” the confession left his lips in such a soft whisper that if you weren’t sitting close to him, you wouldn’t have been able to hear. You felt your stomach do a happy flip and smiled slightly.

“Good, because I believe it.” You paused for a moment, your eyes snapping up to his. “Wholeheartedly.”

That soft light glimmered in his eyes again and you found yourself admiring his beautiful face before you cleared your throat and pointed back with your thumb.

“And also I just turned down another artist’s offer to paint me, so…”

He let out a chuckle. “Felix?”

“Mm hm.”

“I knew it,” he said, shaking his head. “I had a feeling—wait, is that why you threatened him?”

“Not directly but sort of,” you said as you downed your drink, then glanced around but there was no sign of any footmen carrying a tray. Benedict took a look around the room as well and turned to you.

“Do you want another?”

You tilted your head. “One would assume you’re a bad influence, Mr. Bridgerton.”

He had the audacity to look quite offended.

“Me? A bad influence?” he asked, feigning surprise. “I have no idea what you mean, Mrs. Bridgerton. I’m simply asking if my wife would like another glass.”

You shot him a grin, that warmth spreading through your veins. “Yes please.”

He got up from the sofa and bowed his head in an exaggerated manner, making you giggle before he walked to the other side of the room to find you another glass. You kept your eyes on him, barely aware of the giddy smile on your face and you bit on your lip then leaned back on the sofa, heaving a sigh.

Chapter Text

Well, you had to admit.

You had no idea what the following night would bring when you woke up in the morning, but it was not this.

The dawn was breaking when you got back home from the party and though you hadn’t drunk that much, you felt nearly intoxicated with the sense of this freedom which was incredibly new for you. For once you didn’t have to follow any rules or worry about the etiquette the ton kept pressuring you with, and it felt absolutely wonderful.

Benedict had suggested you could sleep in his bed and you were still too taken by the excitement to come up with an excuse or pretend you didn’t like the idea. You convinced yourself that it would be just for tonight -or this morning for that matter- and when you woke up, warmth that was surrounding you was so comfortable that it made you heave a sigh, a small smile curling your lips. Benedict had his arm thrown over you, his other arm curled under his pillow while he laid on his stomach, still deep asleep. You carefully sat up in bed so as not to wake him up, running your eyes over his back, his muscles rippling as he murmured something and hugged the pillow. A spark of desire shot through you and you bit down on your lip, an exhale leaving your lips. You held out your hand to hold your fingertips over his back but before you could even run your fingertips over his smooth skin, you retrieved your hand and stole a look at the clock on the wall.

Oh.

Both of you had slept until noon. Again.

Benedict had barely drunk two glasses throughout the night to make sure to keep an eye on you and you were very careful with not drinking too much in order to lose any control so this wasn’t even about the drinks, it was because of the fact that last night had been the most entertaining night of your life.

Most entertaining and shocking.

The picture of what you had seen in that room while you were exploring the rest of the party flashed before your eyes, making your heartbeat faster. You were still quite certain you were missing something because that was simply not…possible with what you were told about nightly activities.

Was one of them just there to simply observe?

Even the thought was enough to make your face burn and you scrunched up your nose, closing your eyes for a second but you opened them again when the thought hit you, a frown pulling your brows together.

Benedict had told you himself that he tended to attend these parties, and Lady Whistledown wrote over and over again how he would come home early in the morning, all disheveled. Not only that, now that you were rethinking about the conversation that took place between Sir Granville and Benedict and how he was so quick to dismiss even the suggestion of it—

You knew he was very experienced when it came to such acts, he had told you he hadn’t been celibate and the rumors about him -though they lacked details- only convinced you further that he knew much more than you.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you hadn’t even noticed him rising from his deep slumber until he moved a little in bed, then held his breath, freezing in his spot. He pulled the heavy covers to himself just a little, bunching them around his waist before propping his head up on his fist.

“Good morning.”

“How does one lay with two people at the same time?”

He blinked a couple of times. “…Did I—did I not wake up?”

“No you’re awake,” you said and turned your head to look at him better. “That’s not supposed to be possible, is it? I mean, physically speaking?”

He cleared his throat, rubbing at his eyes. “What brought this on?”

“I wanted to explore the rest of the party last night after you left with Sir Granville.”

“Uh oh.”

“And I saw something.”

“Of course you did.”

“Is that a thing that people enjoy?” you asked and he shook his head slightly, sitting up in bed.

“Let's just not talk about that right now.”

“It makes no sense though,” you mused. “Three people? That’s surely impossible, does one simply wait their turn?”

He looked nearly tormented by your questions. “I’m not having that conversation with you.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not.”

“But that was what Sir Granville meant, was it not?”

“It wasn’t,” he said quickly. “He meant more in the lines of—well, his wife—it doesn’t matter. That’s not going to happen.”

You thought for a moment.

“Have you ever done that?”

He heaved a sigh and brushed a hand through his hair, messing it up even more. “Can we please have this conversation some other time? Because this is absolutely not helping the situation.”

You tilted your head. “What situation?”

He paused and looked down at the covers bunched around his waist, then turned his gaze to you. “Nothing.”

“But have you ever done that?” you insisted, making him furrow his brows as if he was trying to focus.

“I don’t—I—” he stammered. “Please don’t ask me that.”

Your jaw dropped. “You have?”

Benedict ran a hand over his face as if he was torn between lying to you or not and you sat up straighter, trying to ignore the way your stomach flipped. Perhaps you had been correct in thinking he was going off to those parties or keeping mistresses after your wedding. After all, you had told him he could, and it wasn’t as if this was a real marriage anyway.

He had married you because you had been caught together, no other reason.

That bitterness spread through your throat and burned it but you were sure that you managed to keep your expression completely calm.

“I mean obviously it was…” he motioned between you two. “It was before we married.”

“Sure!” your voice came out a pitch higher than you intended. “Obviously and—and it’s fine. It’s absolutely fine. I mean it would be fine either way. Obviously.”

His eyes flitted over your face and he took a deep breath but before he could say anything, someone knocked on the door.

“Mr. Bridgerton? Your brothers sent word with a footman.”

You took it as your cue to get up from the bed and cleared your throat.

“I should…” you motioned at your room. “Because um—Teddy is coming to visit today, so I should get ready.”

“Y/N—”

“Just don’t forget we’re having dinner with your family tonight,” you said hastily before you walked to your room and closed the door behind you, leaning back to it as soon as you did. You pressed your hands on your eyes, then shook your head and walked to your bed to ring the bell.

It made absolutely no sense that you still felt bitter over Benedict’s escapades. You and everyone in the ton knew he was quite adventurous and while you hadn’t known the details or apparently the amount of people his adventures included, you weren’t going to be in a sour mood all day because of it.

Especially now that Teddy and your aunt were visiting.

Teddy was a tiny hurricane as usual and after watching him run around for about an hour, you and your aunt had decided to go outside to sit in the gazebo. Teddy was having fun exploring the garden and it was such a lovely day that you simply couldn’t bring yourself to stay inside.

“You will get the hang of it,” your aunt assured you. “I had some difficulty with learning how things worked when I first married your uncle.”

“Yes but you at least had an idea.”

“So do you.”

“Barely,” you said and she tilted her head.

“I’ll help you,” she said. “Not to worry. Running a house is not that difficult once you understand the basics.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” you said with a sigh and she smiled at you.

“So now, are you going to show me the greenhouse?”

You looked over your shoulder to the huge greenhouse, the sunlight reflecting on the glass walls and your stomach did a flip.

“Oh I haven’t…” you trailed off and took a deep breath. “I haven’t had the chance to work on it I’m afraid.”

She raised her brows.

“You?” she said. “There’s a greenhouse here and you haven’t started working on it yet?”

Well no.

You hadn’t even stepped a foot there because you knew if you did, you would fall apart. All your life you had wanted a beautiful garden and a big greenhouse but now that you had it—

You knew you were going to want to spend your whole time there, and put so much effort and time into the plants but Benedict could take that away from you anytime he wanted so you refused to put yourself through that heartbreak.

So you were simply not even going to bother.

“I’ve been busy,” you ended up saying. “But um—I’m sure our gardener is doing a wonderful job there just like he is in the garden.”

“I must admit, I thought you’d have taken over the garden by now,” she admitted and let out a small chuckle. “But I suppose your days are busy just like your nights, hm?”

Oh great.

Always a lovely topic to lie about.

“Sort of,” you said and she shot you a look.

“There’s nothing wrong with having hobbies though,” she said. “Josie mentioned you fixed Bess’s roses?”

“I barely did anything,” you said. “Bess was watering those roses three times a day, can you believe that?”

She scoffed a laugh. “Oh wow.”

“And I told her—”

“Y/N!” Teddy’s cheerful voice rang through the garden and you looked around, then looked up at the window of Benedict’s studio where he was leaning out of. “Come here!”

“Teddy, don’t lean out the window like that!”

“Alright but come here!” he said, excitement laced in his tone and you got up from the bench.

“I’ll be right back,” you told your aunt and she waved a hand in the air.

“I’ll just ask your gardener to give me a tour of the greenhouse while you’re there,” she said and you nodded, then quickly made your way back into the house. You rushed up the stairs to the studio but as soon as you reached there, you froze by the door, staring inside.

Apparently, while you and your aunt were downstairs, Teddy had decided to try his hand in painting. The canvas Benedict had sketched on before he left was now full of colors because Teddy had decided to color inside the lines, and was now smiling at you proudly.

“Look, I made this!” Teddy said, pointing at the canvas. “Is it pretty? That’s a house, see?”

Oh God. Oh God.

The panic that crashed down on you was so sudden that it took your breath away, your heart leaping to your throat. Benedict was going to be absolutely furious when he saw this, and it was going to lead to an argument and that was going to lead to a—

Alright. You had to make sure that didn’t happen anywhere near Teddy and the only thing good about this mess was that Benedict wasn’t even at home right now.

You could take whatever he would unleash upon you.

You swallowed thickly and stepped closer to Teddy, then crouched down to get to his level, your skirts fanning around you.

“It is very beautiful Teddy, but…” you took a deep breath, clenching and unclenching your hand to get rid of the shaking, your wrist starting to hurt again. “Do you know whose room this is?”

He looked around and turned to you. “Benedict’s?”

“Yes,” you said. “Which means these all belong to him. And do you remember what we said about touching other people’s belongings?”

He nodded, his eyes still shiny with happiness. “Yes but I didn’t touch those,” he pointed at the painted canvases around the room. “Just this one, it didn’t have any paint on it.”

“Yes but it still—”

“Hello there,” Benedict’s voice cut through yours and you jumped on your feet, stepping in front of Teddy without even realizing it.

Oh damn it.

The fear roared through you, making your ears muffled and for a second you felt as if something was squeezing at your throat but you clenched your teeth. Benedict smiled at Teddy who leaned sideways to wave at him around your skirt.

“Hello Benedict!”

“It was an accident, it happens,” your voice came out as a demand and Benedict pulled his brows together.

“Hm?”

“Look!”

“Teddy…” you said through your teeth but he was completely oblivious to how tense you were, which you assumed was good, in a way.

Teddy, unlike you or Josie, had no idea what could happen when someone was angry, he just wasn’t raised like that.

“Benedict, I made this!” Teddy pointed at the canvas, making him turn his head to look at it. “Is it pretty? Can I be an artist too?”

You hadn’t even noticed yourself grabbing the palette knife on the tiny coffee table behind you as subtly as you could until you felt the cold handle of it. If anything happened, if Benedict so much as tried to shove him, you were going to—

“You painted it?” Benedict asked with a small smile and Teddy nodded fervently.

“Yes!”

“It was an accident,” you repeated, your eyes flitting to the door and Benedict let out a small chuckle.

“It looks very pretty,” he said as he stepped inside and Teddy rushed to the canvas, apparently very proud of himself.

“I made the door red, look!”

“Teddy,” you said. “Just go to the garden, alright?”

“Wait a moment,” Benedict told you and crouched down to look at Teddy. “You did it all by yourself?”

Teddy nodded and you gripped the handle of the palette knife tighter, but Benedict gave him a huge smile.

“I think you’re going to be a great artist.”

“Really?”

“Yes!” he said. “Absolutely, are you kidding? I couldn’t use the colors this well when I was your age.”

Teddy rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, and turned to look up at you with a huge smile.

“Y/N, did you hear that?”

“In fact, I have an idea,” Benedict said. “How about the next time you’re here, we get you your own canvas and you can paint whatever it is you want to paint, hm?”

Teddy gasped. “Really?!”

“Absolutely!”

Teddy giggled and nodded with a huge smile.

“I’ll tell auntie I’ll be an artist!” he said and rushed out of the room, making you let out a breath. Benedict straightened his back and smiled at you.

“You didn’t tell me he wanted to be an artist.”

“He um…he makes figures from mud,” you managed to rasp out and he raised his brows.

“We could get him some stuff to make sculptures as well,” he told you. “The next time he visits—”

“There’s no way you’re as calm as you look right now,” you cut him off, your heart beating in your ears but by some miracle, your voice didn’t waver. Benedict shot you a confused look, then scoffed.

“Oh you mean what he did with the canvas?” he asked. “He’s six, that’s what kids do. They snoop around.”

You blinked a couple of times. “That was supposed to be your painting.”

“Do you think Greg never painted over something I was working on?” he asked with a small laugh. “He—two summers ago I had just finished a painting and apparently he decided to paint over it at night because he liked brighter colors and wanted to fix it for me.”

You stared at him, your brows furrowed and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I grew up with seven siblings,” he said. “Remind me to tell you what Colin once did to my drawings back at Eton.”

You slowly put the palette knife back on the coffee table behind you without him noticing and licked your lips.

“I didn’t know you’d be back soon.”

“I forgot my sketchbook,” he said. “I figured during tonight’s dinner I wouldn’t have the time to go over the illustrations with Charlie so I’ll just give her these today. Mother invited her and Simon so it’ll definitely be chaotic.”

“Simon?”

“Duke Hastings.”

“Oh,” you said. “Daphne’s suitor.”

“And Anthony’s friend,” Benedict said and grabbed his sketch book. “Where is your aunt by the way? I should greet her before I leave.”

“In the—in the garden,” you stammered, trying to pull your thoughts together through the confusion. “She’d love to see you, I’m sure. You go ahead, I’ll be right there.”

Benedict looked like he wanted to say something, but then decided otherwise.

“Alright then,” he said and walked out of the room, leaving you there. You gawked at the spot he had just left and let out a breath, running a hand over your face.

“What on earth…” you murmured and pressed a hand over your chest, then threw your shoulders back and walked out of the room as well.

Even though you were beginning to find it very easy if not relaxing to spend time with Benedict, this whole dinner was going to be quite chaotic, you were sure of it. Going there early to help with the preparations for the night had sounded like a good idea in your head but you had missed the part that Benedict and his brothers would be outside and there would be plenty of time for the women of the family to ask their many questions to you about how your marriage was going. Eloise particularly seemed to have many topics to cover and questions to ask, so after around an hour when Lady Bridgerton and Daphne got distracted with going over the last minute details of the dinner, leaving you alone with Eloise who was very interested in learning what exactly was taking place after one got married, but soon enough Lady Bridgerton sent her to change into her evening attire so you took it as your sign to leave the drawing room.

Dear God, you could still remember running into Benedict for the first time in this very hallway.

And what was it you had said?

“I doubt we will ever talk to each other again, Mr. Bridgerton.”

Fate just had a way of messing with you.

You slowly made your way through the hallway until you reached Benedict’s art room and looked around, then pushed at the door to open it. You peeked inside to see whether they had changed it after he moved out but it looked the same as you had last been there. You nibbled on your lip for a moment, then stepped inside and closed the door behind you.

It was almost funny how Benedict’s presence -even if he wasn’t actually there in the room- was beginning to make you feel relaxed instantly. The traces of him were all over the room, from the messy table beside the canvas to the painting palette full of colors, and you felt a smile warm your lips before pulling a book out of the shelf and going straight to the sofa by the window.

By the time you heard the knock on the door you had been so focused on the life of Da Vinci that the sound took you by surprise. The door cracked open and Benedict peeked his head in, making your heart skip a beat.

“Hello,” he said. “Do you mind if I come in?”

“It’s your room.”

“Well you’re in it so it makes it yours.”

You bit down a smile and motioned at the room. “Be my guest.”

Benedict shot you that lopsided grin and entered the room, then closed the door behind him.

“What are you doing here?”

“Admiring art?”

He furrowed his brows. “I only have one canvas in here and only the background is finished.”

“I’m admiring the background,” you deadpanned and he tilted his head.

“Are you hiding?”

“Maybe,” you said. “Eloise has a lot of well-grounded questions about why your mother said no when she asked if she could stay over at our house.”

A soft look appeared in his gaze and he repressed a smile, then sat beside you and leaned back to the sofa.

“Really?”

“Mm hm. Dodging the question about what our honeymoon has got to do with it was especially difficult.”

“What did you tell her?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “That she could ask you, not me.”

He gawked at you. “You threw me into the fire?”

“Well I had to throw someone!” you defended yourself. “Besides, you’re an artist. Suffering will be good for you, everyone knows that.”

“Uh huh, thank you traitor.”

You tried to hold back your laughter, feigning shock. “I’m merely trying to help you improve as an artist. A very selfless behavior, one would say.”

“Much appreciated,” he said while you bit down on your lip to stop the smile and he put his feet up on the table, making himself comfortable.

“Are you hiding as well?” you asked and he nodded.

“Mother is snapping at all of us about anything you could think of, she’s very nervous about this dinner.”

“Well, Daphne’s suitor is coming,” you said. “It is expected.”

“She managed to turn the conversation from Colin’s jacket to the fact that he hasn’t got married yet, quite literally no one in that room is safe.”

“You are!” you snapped your fingers. “You’re married.”

He grinned at you. “I am.”

“To me,” you felt the need to say and his gaze turned soft again.

“Mm hm, to you.”  

You found yourself smiling back and took a deep breath, trying to distract yourself from that spark of excitement rushing through you.

“Does she want all of you to marry in the same season?” you asked. “I mean you were the first, I’m sure Daphne will marry within the season, and Colin?”

“Well, Anthony is never going to get married, he keeps saying that.”

You pursed your lips together and raised your brows.

“Does he now?”

“Yes,” he said. “He’s very sure of it.”

You nodded. “And what time is Lottie getting here?”

Benedict thought for a second and checked his pocket watch. “She was going to get ready when we separated so I’d say in half an hour. Before Simon gets here, probably.”

Dear God, as much as you disliked Anthony and he disliked you, you had to give it to him; he had to have been very convincing with his family if even Benedict couldn’t see how he was looking at Charlotte. It was quite surprising because to you, it was clear as day but apparently no one around you could see that.

And to make it even more interesting, it was obvious that Charlotte had no idea either. She had vehemently insisted Anthony was the kindest and nicest man on earth when you had told her you didn’t like him, and you had seen how they always made sure to talk to each other whenever they were near each other but she either managed to keep her feelings hidden from anyone’s gaze or she didn’t know about them.

You made a mental note to at least fish for some information the next time you would go to the park with Lottie, then got distracted when Benedict cleared his throat.

“Can we talk?”

“About what?”

“Last night.”

You turned to him and tilted your head. “The party or what I saw?”

“Both,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and licked his lips. “I uh… You know, this morning I couldn’t really explain but I don’t want you to misunderstand it. I haven’t—I mean I did join the parties and did things there but after we got engaged I never…”

Your heart started beating even faster and a fire swept over your face.

“Oh you don’t have to explain—”

“I want to explain,” he said. “Nothing happened ever since that night.”

Ever since you two had kissed.

“No matter what you saw last night at the party.”

You had no idea why this new knowledge filled you with happiness or why imagining Benedict with anyone else had made that bitter taste climb up your throat earlier today.

“I just went to drink and paint and spend time with my friends, nothing more.”

You nodded, dragging the tip of your tongue over your lip. When the memory flashed through your mind, you felt a fire burning your cheeks but forced yourself to turn your gaze from him, leaning your head to the back of the sofa and fixing your eyes on the ceiling. Benedict turned a little to look at you better, putting his arm over the back of the sofa, resting his head on his fist.

“Ask.”

“Hm?”

“You have a question in mind that bothers you.”

You stole a look at him. “How did you-?”

“You always furrow your brows when you’re deep in thought and want to ask something.”

You relaxed your brows immediately, making him chuckle. Biting inside your cheek, you took a deep breath and turned your gaze to him, sitting up straighter.

“…Clearly love is made up,” you started, making him raise his brows. “And of course I don’t believe in it, it’s for fools. And artists.”

“Strong introduction there.”

You shot him a glare and clicked your tongue.

“That being said,” you muttered, “When you were actively uh—participating in such things at the parties…”

“Yes?”

“Were you in love with two people at the same time?” you asked. “Or did it make you fall in love?”

He looked rather taken aback by your question and you had to admit, you shared the sentiment. You had no idea why the idea of him falling in love with someone made your stomach drop and squeezed at your heart but you managed to keep your expression still.

He shook his head. “No.”

“No?” You tilted your head. “Ever?”

“That wasn’t about love,” he said, making a rush of relief spread through you for some reason. You pursed your lips together and cleared your throat before asking the next question that was almost echoing in your mind.

“Does it make people fall in love though?” you asked. “Doing that?”

He thought for a moment. “Sometimes.”

Oh.

Well, that was…

That was an interesting thought there, albeit risky.

“And what, it’s better when you’re in love?” you asked and immediately corrected yourself. “Hypothetically speaking, that is. If love existed, which it does not.”

“Well, all poets say it’s perfection with the person you love.”

You scoffed a laugh and scrunched up your nose, turning a little in your spot to face him. “And what do the artists say?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “That it’s supposed to be divine.”

“Supposed to be?”

“That’s what I’ve heard.”

You pulled your brows into a frown again, trying to make sense of what he had just said before it dawned on you.

“What, then—” you stammered, turning to look at him better. “All this time, for you it was about lust? Nothing more?”

“It was about many things,” he admitted. “Lust, trying to find love, or simply just fun…”

Ah.

Well, you didn’t have the slightest clue as to why hearing that was making that bitter taste burn your throat.

“And then it was about forgetting.”

The sentence took you by surprise and you blinked a couple of times. “Forgetting?”

“Mm hm.”

You didn’t even need to ask what he had tried to forget. You knew that he was talking about after that night at the rooftop, that haunted, heartbroken look on his face when you had told him you would simply torment him or rip out his heart.

Remembering that moment right now felt like your own heart was being ripped out and you shifted your weight in your spot, digging your nails into your palms to focus.

“Did it work?”

A small smile graced his lips and that soft light started glimmering in his eyes again, his gaze locked in yours.

“Does it look like it worked?”

Your eyes shot up to his, your heartbeat getting faster so fast that it made your head spin and for a moment you both stayed like that in complete silence but before you could even say anything else, you were snapped out of your thoughts by the knock on the door.

“Ben?” Colin’s voice reached inside and you turned your head to look at the door. Benedict cleared his throat as if he was trying to pull himself together and you let out a breath, rolling your shoulders back.

“Is it alright if he…?” Benedict asked and you nodded fervently.

“Oh, absolutely.”

Benedict turned to look at the door. “Come in Colin!”

The door opened and Colin tilted his head when he saw you.

“Oh I didn’t know—you know what, it doesn’t matter. I’m aware you are newlyweds and everything but I refuse to be anywhere near mother’s sight until this dinner starts,” he said, stepping inside and closing the door, then made his way to the armchair to fling himself on it. “Dear God…”

“Yeah it’s not fun, is it?” you asked. “Now try to imagine the whole ton doing that to you and you’ll understand how life is for a debutante.”

Colin hummed, then grinned at you. “And what exactly were you two doing here, honeymoon couple?”

“Colin,” Benedict said, his tone almost a warning and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Nothing you don’t wish you were doing with Miss Marina,” you said with a smirk as his eyes widened. “Simply talking, of course.”

Colin’s jaw dropped and he held up his hands while Benedict chuckled beside you.

“I will stop talking now,” Colin said and Benedict snapped his fingers.

“No no, I’ve been wondering that myself,” he said. “What is it with you and Miss Marina?”

Colin waved his hands in the air as he searched for words.

“She’s—we—she’s…pleasant company.”

You scoffed a laugh and turned to Benedict. “Oh, pleasant company.”

“Sure,” Benedict nodded solemnly, “Nothing more.”

“Certainly. Has nothing to do with the fact that she’s very pretty.”

“Or the fact that he bolted to talk to her the moment he saw her the other day,” Benedict played along. “They probably talk about philosophy.”

“Or art,” you pointed out. “Truly an intellectual companionship.”

“You two are terrible,” Colin pointed between you. “A terrible couple, that’s what you are.”

You let out a laugh and Benedict opened his mouth to retort but before he could say anything, someone knocked on the door.

“Sir?” a maid said. “Lady Bridgerton wants everyone in the drawing room.”

Colin heaved a sigh and shot you two a look, the sound of footsteps getting distant.

“What if we just stayed here and didn’t attend this dinner?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Colin, I’m absolutely fine with this dinner,” Benedict said with a grin. “I’m married after all.”

You nodded. “Yeah we will be very comfortable tonight.”

Benedict pointed at you with his thumb. “What my wife said.”

“Why thank you, husband,” you played along, making Benedict stifle a laugh as he looked at you. “Perhaps we should tell your mother how happy we are now that we’re married.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“That’s an amazing idea, we really should,” Benedict said, making Colin whine. “We should also tell her how happy Colin will be once he gets married.”

“I hate both of you.”

“We just want your happiness, brother.”

Colin groaned, rolling his eyes as he got on his feet.

“I liked it better when you were suffering with me,” he grumbled, pointing at Benedict before walking out of the room. You and Benedict grinned at each other, and he held out his arm.

“Shall we, my beautiful wife?”

“Yes we shall, my handsome husband,” you teased him back with a giggle as you dropped an exaggerated curtsy, then you both left the room to make your way to the drawing room.

Chapter Text

You still hadn’t quite gotten used to your new home. Especially at night it was very hard to actually tell where you were but after a couple of minutes and occasional stumbles in the dark, you had finally reached the completely empty kitchen. Finding the ingredients that you wanted was another challenge you hadn’t considered, yet after snooping around and opening quite literally every cabinet, you managed to find them and get to work.

The middle of the night was not the ideal time to bake cookies but it was the better alternative to tossing and turning in the bed.

You added the flour into the huge bowl before mixing it with the eggs and sugar, humming a song to yourself. Teddy was going to be so happy tomorrow when you took these to him, you were sure of it and considering tomorrow -well, technically today- you would meet him and Josie, Bess and Andrew for a picnic, you wouldn’t have to wait so long.

“What are you doing?”

You jolted in your spot and looked over your shoulder to see Benedict staring at you as if he was questioning whether you were indeed there or not.

“Baking,” you said, holding up the bowl. “I thought you’d be asleep.”

“Yeah I—you know we have a staff, right?”

You tilted your head. “Yes?” you said. “I see them every day.”

“So you could’ve just asked them to do it instead of coming down here in the middle of the night?”

“No I don’t mind,” you said. “I’m making these for Teddy and he likes it better when I bake them, not anyone else.”

Benedict pulled his brows together, still staring at you.

“How do you know how to make anything?”

“Huh?”

“I mean—” he motioned at you. “This is a kitchen.”

“Yes?”

“How do you know how to make something in a kitchen?”

You blinked a couple of times before a laughter spilled from your lips. “Are you serious?”

“Daphne doesn’t even know how to start the heat on stove.”

“I don’t know why I’m surprised,” you muttered. “Dear God, that’s how you all grew up then? You just snapped your fingers and people made things for you, always?”

He looked like he had no idea how to answer that and you repressed a smile at the confusion etched in his handsome features, then put the butter into the mix and held out the bowl.

“Here, take this.”

“What?”

“If you’re going to stay here you might as well make yourself useful,” you said. “I’ll give you some of the cookies as a thank you.”

He eyed the bowl as if it could come alive and attack him anytime. “I don’t know how to do it.”

“You mix paints, don’t you?” you asked. “It’s just a larger, that is all.”

He carefully took the bowl from you and looked inside, then dipped his head a little to smell it, then lifted his head again to look at you.

“Wait, it smells good even before the oven?”

You stifled a laugh and nodded. “Mm hm.”

“And I just mix it?”

“Yeah, while I chop the chocolate,” you said as you grabbed the knife and put the block of chocolate on the cutting wood. He leaned back, trailing the spoon in the bowl and keeping his gaze on you as you started chopping chocolate.

“Nightmares again?” he asked softly and you clicked your tongue, your whole focus is on the chocolate as you shrugged your shoulders.

“It’s not important.”

“It is though,” he said, “I told you, you can always come to—”

“It’s nothing,” you cut him off. “I can handle it.”

“But you don’t have to,” Benedict said. “Not alone at least.”

Your hand froze for a moment as that burning reached your eyes but you quickly blinked back the tears, returning to what you were doing again. A silence fell upon the kitchen before he cleared his throat.

“So, did your mother teach you how to bake?”

You scoffed. “My mother didn’t teach me anything except—”

How to dodge a slap.

“Um, Josie taught me,” you said. “My mother wasn’t exactly…she didn’t like us to be around her in the kitchen.”

Or anywhere really.

“And we didn’t have any maids or a cook or anything,” you said and threw him a look over your shoulder. “Which by the way, if you are changing your mind because of my financial situation growing up, it’s kind of too late. We’re already married.”

He let out an incredulous chuckle. “Right, because that’s exactly what I was thinking.”

“Obviously,” you said with a grin and motioned at him to bring you the bowl. He did as you asked and you took it from him to place it on the counter, then put the chocolate pieces into it to start mixing it.

“So what was it like?” he asked, leaning back to the side counter and you raised your brows.

“Growing up poor you mean?”

He took a deep breath, as if trying to decide whether he was supposed to answer that or not.

“Growing up…knowing how to bake?” he tried and you scoffed a laughter.

“You can say it, it’s alright,” you said as you stopped mixing the dough before putting the bowl aside. You grabbed a small portion of the dough and started rolling it in your hands.

“The ones Josie used to make me were a bit different,” you said. “Smaller in portion and no chocolate, of course. Too expensive.”

“I’m sorry.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Don’t be,” you said and put the small portion of dough on the baking tray, then got some in your hand again to roll it. “Are you going to help me, or…?”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah,” you said. “It’s not that hard, I assure you.”

He came closer to you and took a look at what you were doing, then reached into the bowl to take some of the dough into his hand as well.

“Very well then,” he said. “This is interesting.”

“You’ve never done this before huh?”

“Ever,” he said, shaking his head before putting the small piece of the tray. “How was it? Growing up like that?”

You thought for a moment, then heaved a sigh.

“You…you get used to not having things,” you said. “Especially if you’re born into it. But it doesn’t—just because you get used to it doesn’t mean it’s easy. Adaptability doesn’t lead to happiness, no matter what all those novels tell you. It wasn’t exactly pleasant.”

“Nor safe?” he asked and you raised your head from the tray to look at him, furrowing your brows in confusion. He shot you a hesitant smile.

“The knife was a clue.”

“Oh,” you said and let out a small laugh. “It’s just a precaution. One can never be too careful, Josie says.”

“She’s right I suppose,” he murmured and you took another piece, then rolled it in your hand and offered it to him.

“Here.”

“What?”

“Eat it.”

Benedict raised his brows. “Alright, I know you’re looking forward to be a widow as soon as possible—”

“Don’t say that!” you protested and he motioned at the cookie dough in your hand.

“But this is no way to poison me, at least show me the courtesy of being subtle.”

“I’m not trying to poison you.”

“You’re offering me raw cookie dough.”

“And it’s delicious.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“You said it yourself it smelt good!”

“Soap smells good too but I don’t eat it,” he replied and you shook your head.

“You honestly have never tried raw cookie dough?”

“I’m not falling for this,” he shook his head. “I’m not even a great artist yet, I can’t die now.”

“Benedict.”

“Hm?” he asked, trying to repress a smile and you took a bite of the raw dough, the sweet taste coating your tongue before you swallowed it, then held out the rest to Benedict.

“I know you think this proves something but I watched you chomp down an actual asparagus. Raw.”

“That was a game,” you said. “I’m a highly competitive person—just try it.”

He heaved a dramatic sigh and took the dough from you to take a bite, but then his whole face lit up at the taste, making you laugh.

“See?”

“Are you serious?” he asked you and looked at the tray, “Can we maybe just not put them in the oven and eat them like this instead?”

“We are putting them in the oven,” you said, still smiling. “But hey, this is just yet another situation where I’m right. I hope you’re keeping a record.”

He gave you a grin. “Should I?”

“Obviously,” you said with a smile and grabbed the tray. “Open the oven for me, will you? Before you convince me to eat all these without baking them.”

The picnic next day was quite lovely. You had also met the Bridgertons there and soon enough everyone was scattered along the park. Colin had pulled Benedict aside somewhere else and Anthony kept stealing glances at Charlotte who was playing with Teddy, Gregory, Hyacinth and her own siblings, chasing them around much to their delightful laughter. Josie and Bess were walking around the park while Andrew sat beside you, and reached into the basket to grab a cookie.

“You are an angel.”

“Far from it.”

“A demon with good baking skills,” he corrected himself and you let out a laugh.

“Mm, sounds about right.”

He threw it in the air and caught it with his mouth.

“Jo says you haven’t been gardening lately,” he said while still chewing and you shifted your weight in your spot, then waved a hand in the air.

“I just haven't had the time.”

He wiggled his brows. “Is your husband really that good in bed?”

“Andrew!”

“What?” he said, chuckling as you slapped his arm. “It’s just a question, don’t look so scandalized.”

“It has nothing to do with Benedict,” you lied through your teeth and he hummed.

“So what exactly are you doing then, to keep you so busy?”

“Things.”

“Please, that lovesick look on your face—”

“Lovesick look?” you exclaimed, “I do not have a lovesick look on my face.”

“You absolutely do, you should see yourself,” he said, making you pull back for a moment, still frowning.

If anything, this just meant you and Benedict were getting better at pretending in front of people, that was it. And it was good news of course, because the more people believed in it, the less they would question it.

“Don’t worry,” Andrew said, pulling you out of your thoughts. “He looks at you just as lovesick.”

You scoffed. “I think you've been spending too much time around Bess, and you know how she gets.”

“That has nothing to do with—”

“Hold that thought,” you cut him off as soon as your eyes caught the sight of Felix and you raised a hand so that he could see you as well. He immediately smiled brightly and made his way to you.

“Aw he looks quite cute.”

“Does he now?” you suppressed a smirk and turned to Felix when he reached you.

“Mrs. Bridgerton.”

“Felix, I told you to call me by my name,” you said. “Andrew, this is Felix, a very promising artist. Felix, this is Lord Andrew Walcott, my brother-in-law.”

“Pleased to meet you.”

“You as well, Lord Walcott.”

“Get a cookie and sit with us,” you said, holding up the basket and Felix grabbed a cookie, then bit into it as he sat down.

“Wow,” he said. “My compliments to your cook.”

“I made them.”

He blinked a couple of times. “You?”

“Mm hm.”

“Not to worry, it’s not poisoned,” Andrew said and you elbowed him. “So you’re an artist?”

“Y/N is just being kind,” Felix said with a shy smile and Andrew raised his brows.

“I’ve literally never seen that happen, so I doubt it.”

“I’m not being kind,” you said. “I think you can do it as long as you want to. That’s not being kind, that’s being realistic.”

Felix averted his eyes down as if he was embarrassed, then glanced up at you again through his thick lashes.

“Yet I cannot paint you?”

“Not me,” you said, shaking your head and Andrew looked between you two.

“What is that about?”

“I wanted to paint her, but she said no,” Felix said and motioned at you. “And I think you and Benedict would make the perfect inspiration as Aphrodite and Adonis in a painting.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, no. Wait, did you ask Benedict that?”

“Mm hm.”

“And?”

“He said he’s not interested in posing but painting,” he said. “And he reminded me that you already said no.”

“You know people would kill each other over it if we were in Renaissance times?” Andrew asked you. “A promising artist offering to paint you, that’s how you become immortal.”

Felix snapped his fingers. “I was thinking the same thing!”

“And I’m not interested in being immortal,” you said and saw Colin making his way to you while Benedict ran a hand through his hair, then followed him.

“What is happening?” you asked Colin when he reached you and Benedict sat down next to you.

“Hi Felix. Andrew.”

“Adonis.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Andrew grinned and Colin motioned at you.

“I need your help.”

“About?”

“What we talked of the other day, apparently,” Benedict said. “Colin, just go talk to her, alright?”

You looked through the crowd before your eyes fell on Miss Marina, then you turned to Colin who heaved a sigh.

“I would have if you two didn’t get in my head!” Colin said. “Now I’m wondering whether I should approach her with a—with an intellectual conversation starter.”

Felix tilted his head as Benedict leaned back on his hands.

“Isn’t that expecting too much from yourself?”

“Shut it Ben—Y/N, you must help me.”

“On romance?” your voice went high pitched. “Have you gone insane?”

“Not at all. I need your advice.”

“Why would you come to me,” you started, “me of all people for an advice on romance?”

“I mean…”

“Maybe because you two are in love?” Andrew said helpfully and Colin nodded.

“Exactly. I need a lady’s opinion on how to approach the issue at hand.”

“Why is this happening?” you asked to no one in particular. “Honestly, why do people think I can give any advice on romance? Is it because I smile too much?”

Colin raised his brows. “You can smile?”

“Am I not smiling right now?” you deadpanned with a completely straight face and Benedict repressed a laugh.

“Go ask Daph to help you.”

“Daphne is busy with her suitor, and you know Eloise would never help.”

“Go ask Penelope then, you two are friends.”

“I don’t think—perhaps you should go speak to her beforehand,” Colin told you and you made a face.

“What on earth am I supposed to do Colin, just walk over there and yell ‘Ta daa!’ when you start walking to us?”

Andrew bit down a smile while Felix grabbed another cookie.

“Just approach her,” you said. “She obviously likes you enough to have multiple conversations with you.”

“That’s a terrible advice,” Colin stated. “Give me another one,”

You threw your head back and ran a hand over your face.

“Alright, here’s what you should do,” you said. “Listen to me carefully.”

“Alright.”

“Just focus on what you feel for her, like really think about it,” you said while he nodded fervently.

"Okay."

“Then take a deep breath."

"Okay, then?"

"Then go to the nearest church—”

“Church?” Benedict and Andrew asked at the same time and you nodded.

“Yes, go to a church, sneak downstairs; that’s where they keep the wine, drink as much of it as you can until you forget about this romance nonsense, then go home and sleep.”

Benedict held back a chuckle. “Why do I feel like you speak from experience?”

“Josie and I did that once,” you said and turned to Colin who heaved a sigh.

“Let’s not get distracted here.”

“Colin, approaching a lady who likes you should not be that hard.”

“But we don’t know if she likes me,” he insisted. “Benedict was certain that you didn’t like him and look at you two, married now. Looks can be deceiving.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you swallowed thickly, then cleared your throat.

“Is she trying to get away from you while you make a conversation, or attempts to keep the conversation going?”

“Attempts to keep it going.”

“Congratulations, she likes you.”

Benedict pulled his brows together. “You kept trying to get away from me while I made conversation.”

“Yet I'm married to you now, life is full of miracles.”

“I’ve always known one day you'd get married,” Andrew told you and Benedict shot him a look of disbelief.

“Really?”

“Yeah! I just assumed she would become a widow incredibly fast but look at you Benedict, alive and kicking.”

“One can hope, the day is still young,” Colin pointed out and Benedict glared at him.

“Those are some big words coming from a man who cannot even talk to the lady he likes,” he retorted and held up his hand to show him his wedding ring. “I don’t seem to have that problem.”

You let out a laugh and high fived him. “No you don’t.”

“Why thank you darling.”

Colin shook his head as your heart skipped a beat at the term of endearment. “It feels like yesterday you were pacing in the drawing room throwing a fit over what she would think after Whistledown wrote about you and Kitty Morris.”

You repressed the laughter bubbling in your throat and pressed a hand over your chest in an exaggerated manner. “Aw, that’s quite sweet. I hate her by the way.”

“Who’s Kitty Morris?” Felix asked and Benedict shrugged.

“No one important,” he said and turned to Colin, “And it makes perfect sense I was worried because as you can see, my wife hates her.”

“Yes I do.”

“And we’re going home together after this," Benedict said, pride laced in his voice. "Me and my wife. Yet another thing that’s different between you and me, brother.”

“We’re going to the bookshop first,” you added and Benedict nodded.

“We’re going to the bookshop first and then home together,” he corrected himself and Colin rolled his eyes.

“Are you finished?”

“Not even close, you started this,” he said. “And I’m merely sharing my wisdom with you.”

“Your wisdom?” Colin scoffed and Benedict shot him an arrogant grin.

“Marriage makes you wise, everyone knows that.”

You let out a noise of disbelief. “Debatable.”

“No he’s telling the truth,” Andrew said. “The moment you leave the chapel, a wisdom is bestowed upon you. Or in my and Jo’s case, the moment a blacksmith in Gretna Green pronounces you husband and wife.”

You frowned. “And this is you being wise?”

“I heard some say marriage is the death of spirit," Felix said and Andrew shook his head.

“Depends on who you marry,” he said. “I married my best friend.”

You and Andrew exchanged glances and you bit down a smile, but of course the literal meaning of his words wasn’t noticed by anyone else.

“And Benedict here married the human equivalent of a razor blade,” Andrew motioned at you and you rolled your eyes.

“You two are not wise at all,” you pointed at him and Benedict, and turned to Colin. “Honestly, don’t listen to them. Just go over there, she has been stealing glances at you for a while now.”

“Wait, are you serious?” Colin asked, holding his breath and you nodded.

“Yeah. You’re wasting your time here listening to these two, just go and work your magic.”

“If you have any,” Benedict added and Colin narrowed his eyes at him.

“I like your wife better than I like you,” he said and took a deep breath, then fixed his waistcoat and walked away from you to Miss Marina. You could see the glance Penelope stole at him and a sadness flashed over her face, making you raise your brows but before you could even ask anything, Charlotte made her way to you, still breathing hard and her hair a mess from running around.

“Hello everyone!”

“Hi Lottie.”

“We’re going to take the young ones to the play on the other side of the park,” she pointed in the opposite direction, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Do you want to come along?”

“Who’s we?”

“Me and Tony.”

Benedict shrugged his shoulders and opened his mouth but you shook your head.

“No, you go ahead,” you said, making Benedict tilt his head.

“No?”

“Absolutely not,” you said and smiled at your maid. “Paula, would you mind keeping an eye on Teddy?”

“Of course my lady.”

“We should be back in half an hour I think!” Charlotte chirped and walked away from you and Benedict tilted his head.

“What was that about?”

You looked between Charlotte who was smiling brightly at Anthony while she told him something in a very excited manner, waving her hands around, unaware of the soft look in his eyes. You tried to stop the grin on your face, then cleared your throat and turned to Benedict.

“I’m not in the mood to see a play,” you said and popped a cookie in your mouth, then winked at Andrew. “So Andrew. Tell us about your adventures in Spain, will you?”

After the picnic you dropped by the bookshop and then went home with Benedict as planned, but you were so tired that you could barely keep your eyes open during dinner. The hot weather always had a way of making you feel more tired than you were supposed to, and soon after dinner you had excused yourself and gone straight to bed, thinking you would wake up because of the nightmares in the middle of the night anyway.

But for once, nightmares weren’t what woke you up.

It was the fire burning through your veins.

You opened your eyes with a gasp, still feeling Benedict’s lips on your neck and it took you a couple of seconds to realize that it was all a dream. The disappointment that crashed upon you was so sudden that you dug your nails into your palms, trying your hardest to focus.

Yet, you had a feeling it wouldn’t work.

Dreaming of consummating your marriage wasn’t supposed to send such a powerful rush of desire through you, especially considering what you had heard about it but you could still feel his kisses on your lips, his touch on your skin, between your—

No no no.

You were not going to think about that now that you were awake.

You pushed the covers off of you and took a deep breath before getting up from the bed. Your heart was still beating in your ears and you stole a look at the closed door connecting your room to Benedict’s, but then shook your head at yourself.

It wasn’t as if you could just go there and ask to consummate your marriage.

That would be just…inconsiderate of you.

Besides, what was it Benedict had told you? Sometimes the act itself would lead to people falling in love, and you were not going to risk that, no matter how much desire clouded your brain and made you feel lightheaded.

Benedict was attractive, and this was simply a dream that was apparently fueled by that fact.

You dug your palms into your eyes before you lowered your hands, then threw your shoulders back. You desperately needed to get some fresh air and perhaps a walk, so you approached the door and opened it to step outside to the hall, but as soon as you did, you caught the sight of Benedict opening the door to his own room.

“Y/N?”

Oh God damn it.

Seeing him like this, in his night shirt and pants -no doubt having just returned from his studio on the other side of the house- was absolutely not helpful to the situation. The dream flashed before your eyes, making your breath hitch in your throat but you cleared your throat, willing yourself to concentrate.

“Uh…hello.”

His blue eyes searched your face, a frown pulling his brows together.

“Nightmares?”

Quite the opposite.

“Yeah—no,” you said and paused for a moment. “Today was a bit tiring and I just couldn’t sleep.”

“Are you alright? You look breathless.”

“Do I?” your voice came out as a squeak and he stepped closer to you, then pressed a hand over your forehead, making your eyes close for a moment before you bit inside your cheek and looked up at him.

“And you feel hot, is it sun exhaustion again?”

Oh that was just the perfect excuse.

“Yeah!” you said and cleared your throat again. “I mean not exhaustion so to speak but I feel… yeah. It’s because of the heat today, uh huh.”

“Should we send for the doctor?”

Your eyes widened.

“No!” you exclaimed. “God no, I just need some fresh air. That is all.”

“Are you sure? Because the last time it happened—”

“Do you want to come to the garden with me?” you cut him off, the words leaving your lips before you had a chance to stop them and Benedict looked almost surprised.

“I mean if you want to,” you added quickly. “You know, since we ran into each other, what are the odds?”

“…We live in the same house.”

“It’s a big house,” you muttered, feeling your face heat up even more and motioned at the stairs. “I’m just going to go now, you can come with if you want.”

You walked past him in a haste, desperate to do something other than staying here like a babbling fool but you heard Benedict rush after you.

“Wait, I’m coming with.”

“Great, that’s completely your choice,” you flailed your arms and made your way downstairs as he quickly caught up with you and you both passed the foyer and walked out of the front door.

The chill weather was like a soothing remedy to the burning in your cheeks. You looked up at the glimmering stars in the dark sky, then approached one of the many flower beds and sat down on the ground. Benedict sat beside you and you leaned back on your palms, keeping your gaze on the stars, the noises of crickets echoing through the huge garden.

Perhaps you could—

If it were to be anything like the dream you’d just had, perhaps you could just try it. Yes you had heard it from many people consummation was not pleasant at all, but some people seemed to think otherwise.

Including your aunt.

You made a face and shook your head slightly, heaving a deep sigh.

“You can tell me, you know?” Benedict’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts and you turned to him.

“Hm?”

“Whatever it is bothering you, you can tell me.”

“Nothing is bothering me,” you said quickly and he raised his brows.

“Really? So you’re awake in the middle of the night because…?”

“Why are you awake in the middle of the night?” you asked back and he nodded at the house.

“I was painting.”

“How is that going?”

“Eh,” Benedict said. “There’s some flaw I can’t quite put my finger on just yet.”

“Is it you being critical or is there an actual flaw?”

“There’s an actual flaw I’m sure,” Benedict said and snapped his fingers. “Reminds me, you said you wanted to see downtown, right?”

You nodded.

“I just got an invitation for a party there towards the end of the week, a friend is throwing it. We could go if you’d like?”

Your jaw dropped. “Really?”

“Do you want to?”

“Of course I do!”

“Alright then,” he said with a chuckle. “It should be fun.”

You took a deep breath, your heart still beating in your ears as your gaze drifted down to his lips, then you turned your head to look at the flower bed in front of you, absentmindedly reaching out to rip a slightly yellow leaf from the stem.

“So I was thinking,” you said, your stomach doing a flip and Benedict hummed.

“About what?”

“Perhaps we, um…” you stammered, turning to him again but as soon as you casted a glance on his handsome face, your heart leaped to your throat, nervousness filling your whole system. You could swear you were getting lightheaded from the sudden rush, how would one even bring marriage consummation up?

Not to mention—

You were sure you wouldn’t fall in love but it could cloud your judgement, Benedict had told you people actually fell in love after the act sometimes. Not only that, but there was also the issue of you obviously not knowing of the act itself as much as you thought before, judging by what you had seen back at that party.

And it was very obvious Benedict had a lot of experience with it, unlike you.

“I was thinking that,” you started but changed your mind in the middle of the sentence. “It would upset me if you died.”

Benedict gawked at you, blinking a couple of times. “I’m sorry?”

Jesus Christ, you were absolutely a babbling fool tonight after that dream.

“Because, you know,” you motioned with your hands, your mind working nonstop to find the right words. “Andrew said something today and it made me think, and being a widow was my original plan as you remember.”

“Mm hm, I remember it very well.”

“But things change and I know you were joking back at the kitchen but I felt like you should know,” you said, stumbling over your words. “Hypothetically speaking, and also objectively speaking of course, if you died it would—” you swallowed thickly. “It would upset me terribly.”

Well, that was the underestimation of the goddamn century.

Even the thought of Benedict not being with you was enough to squeeze at your heart and you bit at your tongue, desperate to get rid of the thoughts of it before motioning at him.

“So yes, make sure not to do that.”

Benedict tilted his head. “Make sure not to die?”

“Was my request not clear?” you asked back, impatience laced in your tone and Benedict bit down a smile.

“It was,” he said, trying to adapt a serious expression. “It absolutely was. I’ll um, I’ll try my best?”

“Much appreciated,” you said, your heart still pacing in your chest, that restlessness making you fidget before you took a deep breath.

“Now that we cleared that out, I’ll try to get some sleep,” you said and jumped on your feet in an attempt to stop your own nonsense. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”

“Wait, what—?” he started but you had already started walking away from him and you took a deep breath when you reached the front door again.

“Unbelievable…” you muttered at yourself and stepped inside, then made your way upstairs to your room, your cheeks still burning.

Chapter Text

When you went to bed that night, right before falling asleep you decided that this whole feelings nonsense was probably like some sort of fever; you would sleep it off and it would simply go away.

Except that it didn’t.

So the next morning you just figured it would probably take a couple of days to go away, just like any flu. It surely was as annoying as the flu, but you were sure you were going to be able to think straight in a couple of days.

Any day now.

So you had thrown herself into any kind of distraction you could find, but seeing that you no longer had a garden you could work on, it wasn’t as easy. You were nearly restless, your hands itching for the garden but you managed to keep it under control, only helping Bess and your aunt with their plants instead of working on your own plants.

Desiring your husband whom you hadn’t consummated your marriage with was not something you could even get any advice on. The whole ton and everyone close to you thought you were deeply in love and thus, you liked spending time in bed together. You and Benedict were so good at pretending to be in love so it wasn’t as if you could just tell Josie without raising any questions.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you hadn’t even noticed Benedict entering the library. You were seated on the comfortable sofa by the huge window, resting the book on your legs with a warm cup of herbal tea on the coffee table by your side, the sunlight falling over you, making you feel all warm. Your head shot up when Benedict cleared his throat and your heartbeat paced up as soon as your eyes fell on his handsome figure leaning sideways to one of the bookshelves.

“I was wondering where you were,” he said and you smiled at him, then tucked your legs underneath you to make room for him on the other side of the sofa.

“Charlotte is busy with her siblings and Josie had things to do so I left there early,” you said. “You were painting when I got back, so I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“You never disturb me,” he said and motioned at the sofa. “May I?”

“Absolutely.”

He came to sit beside you, his pleasant scent tickling your nostrils and you ran your fingertip over the page of the book absentmindedly, looking at him.

“Did you finish the painting or did you just take a break?”

“I took a break so that I could really absorb myself in self-doubt instead of trying to do that and paint at the same time,” he pointed out, making you let out a laugh.

“Ouch. One of those days?”

“Mm hm.”

“Do you want me to talk badly of your artistic idols? Because I can, very easily.”

He chuckled. “I appreciate it,” he said and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, I guess you know, with the party tonight…”

You frowned for a moment before snapping your fingers.

“Right, the party tonight!” you said. “I forgot about that.”

“Do you still want to go?”

“Of course,” you said. “I want to see that part of the city at night but do you want to go?”

Benedict nodded. “Yeah, absolutely.”

“We can just go some other time if you want?”

“No no,” he said. “It’s not that. It’s just— you know, everyone keeps asking me why I’m applying for the academy next year instead of this year.”

You bit inside your cheek. “But you don’t want to apply this year.”

“I don’t know if I should,” he said. “I feel like I need more practice.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “You don’t owe anyone any explanation. It’s just not in your plans this year.”

“Well yes but Henry and all his friends are convinced that it makes no sense I wait for the next season when I can easily be accepted this season as well.”

You hummed. “Pin it on me.”

“Hm?”

“Tell them I’m—I’m the reason why you’re not applying this year,” you waved a hand in the air. “Marriage responsibilities, distraction, I take up all your time when you should be working on your art, your pick. Isn’t that what artists and writers do? Have bad spouses?”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“That’s what I read,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “No seriously, we’re married now so we can use each other as an excuse for everything.”

He pulled his brows together. “What did you use me as an excuse for?”

“The opportunity hasn’t risen yet but I’m sure it will eventually,” you pointed out. “And when it does, I will not hesitate.”

Benedict chuckled and heaved a sigh, leaning his head back to close his eyes.

“I could say I’m too taken by newlywed bliss to pay attention to my art actually,” he murmured, and the simple term made your heart skip a beat, your dream flashing before your eyes and you cleared your throat.

“There you go.”

He opened an eye to look at you. “So I’ve been thinking.”

“About?”

“You’re free to say no if you don’t want to, but after the season is over, we could go on a trip if you’d like.”

“I thought we were going to your home after the season is over, until the next one.”

“Our home and yes,” he pointed at you, making you repress a smile. “But this was supposed to be our honeymoon right? And we didn’t even go anywhere, so let’s do that after the season. A belated honeymoon trip.”

Your heart beat sped up. “Benedict…”

“I use the term honeymoon loosely,” he added in a haste. “I don’t expect anything of course.”

But you did.

You expected something, and you wanted it to be soon.

“Just a friendly trip,” he said and you licked your lips.

“Where?”

“Where do you want?”

You let out a laugh. “I’ve only seen two cities in my life, here and where I was born. I don’t think I can give travel suggestions.”

“There must be somewhere you want to see.”

“It was never much of a possibility for me so I didn’t really think about it,” you confessed and lifted your head. “Wait, Rome has a bunch of art right?”

“That’s one way to put it, yes.”

“Can we go to Rome?”

“Because there’s a bunch of art?” he asked with a smile and you let out a noise of agreement.

“That and other things,” you said. “It could be fun.”

Benedict’s smile widened and he nodded his head.

“As my lady wishes.”

“Good,” you said, mirroring his smile. “Rome it is.”

As far as you could tell, tonight was going to be rather chaotic.

Apparently one of Benedict’s friends had rented a whole house just for this party -an inn, you were told- and he had also closed down the entire street for it and moved the party there. Benedict had asked you to stay close to him as soon as the carriage stopped and considering you had never been on this side of the town, you had agreed. He helped you out of the carriage, and you fixed the silky skirts of your dress before turning your head to look at the crowd, your lips parting in curiosity. Everyone seemed to be having so much fun, completely drunk already, the music coming from the house reaching outside.

“Wow.”

“Mm hm.”

“What about the officers?” you asked. “I mean this is something else right? The street?”

“Well, this part of the town is barely quiet at night,” Benedict said. “And if they’re paid off well, which I’m guessing they are…”

You let out a whistle and Benedict grinned, obviously pleased with himself.

“Do you mind if I smoke?” he asked and you waved a hand in the air.

“Go ahead.”

He put a cigarette between his lips and lit it, the memory flashing through your head like a lightning, making your heart beat faster. You shifted your weight and averted your eyes, then stood on your tiptoes to see through the crowd. Some of the guests had gathered up in the middle of the cheering crowd to play a game, a tugging war if you weren’t mistaken, and a chuckle escaped from you as one group pulled the other one hard, making them fall down to the ground, all of them still laughing and yelling.

“I was never good at that game,” you muttered to Benedict and he raised his brows.

“You played it?”

“I grew up in the countryside, Benedict,” you reminded him with a grin. “I certainly didn’t spend my time learning how to play the piano and dance.”

“I heard Daphne say you can play the piano,” he teased you, exhaling the smoke upwards so that you wouldn’t breathe it in. “And we do have a music room—”

“Don't you dare,” you pointed at him, making him chuckle.

“I would be the only one to hear it.”

“Not a chance,” you said, a shiver running through you as the cold wind blew over your skin. Benedict noticed it immediately, shrugging off his jacket to drop it over your shoulders.

“Thank you,” you said, your cheeks burning and he smiled at you.

“Of course,” he said. “Want to go inside? It’s probably warmer there.”

You nodded. “Yeah. I also want that drink from the last time.”

A playful glimmer started playing in his blue eyes and he flicked at the cigarette lightly with his thumb so that the ash would fall.

“Lovesick honeymoon couple?”

“Lovesick honeymoon couple,” you said with a giggle and he put the cigarette between his lips, then threw his arm over your shoulder to pull you closer. You inhaled his pleasant scent as discreetly as you could, feeling like your whole face was on fire and you reached out to entwine your fingers with his, then you both started walking to the building, a couple of people greeting you by the door.

The music was even louder inside but it did nothing to drown out the chatter and laughter completely. A footman came to take Benedict’s jacket off of you and Benedict grabbed two glasses from the tray another footman was carrying, and handed one to you.

“There you go,” he said and you clinked it with his, then took a big sip, letting the liquid burn down your throat.

“Are you nervous about tomorrow’s dinner?” you asked and he chuckled.

“Should I be?”

“Nah, I mean…” you trailed off. “Josie does have her moments from time to time and she will certainly question you, but you should be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah because Bess likes you. Well, she likes everyone but Josie will go easy on you if Bess likes you.”

He pulled his brows together. “They’re that close?”

You tried to keep a straight face. “Oh, very close.”

“I was beginning to think you two wouldn’t show up,” Sir Granville’s voice reached you and you looked over your shoulder to see him with a beautiful woman by his side.

“Sir Granville.”

He waved a hand in the air. “None of that, call me Henry,” he said. “This is Lucy, my wife. Lucy, this is Y/N, the infamous Venus Flytrap who captured our artist.”

You let out a laugh. “Quite the introduction.”

“I’m honored,” Lucy said, “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Benedict rubbed the back of his neck, shifting his weight for some reason.

“How’s the new painting going?” Henry asked Benedict who shrugged.

“There’s something missing, I can’t figure out what yet.”

Henry shook his head slightly. “Y/N, will you please tell this stubborn husband of yours that waiting for the next year to apply to Academy is nonsense?”

“Well that would be quite hypocritical of me,” you said airily before Benedict could open his mouth to argue. “Considering how hard I tried to convince him otherwise.”

Benedict’s eyes turned to you, a small smile curling his lips and Henry pulled his brows together.

“Why?”

You tipped your glass in Benedict’s direction slightly. “You didn’t tell them?”

“Tell us what?”

“Well he had mentioned the academy plan before we got engaged but when he proposed, I told him I would only marry him if he promised to spend some time with me on the first year of our marriage,” you said. “Granted I was bluffing, I was going to say yes anyway but it worked.”

Lucy let out a laugh. “Oh my goodness.”

“What, as if the academy wouldn’t take up all your time?” you asked Benedict who nodded fervently. “See? And this is my first season! I wish to enjoy it, the art world can wait until the next season.”

Henry chuckled. “Well I suppose love rules all of us.”

“Let them be,” Lucy said. “She has a point. I sometimes don’t see you for days when you are working on a piece, and they’re still on their honeymoon.”

“Well my only consolation is that artists in love give masterpieces,” Henry said dramatically and Benedict wrapped an arm around your waist to squeeze it, as if saying thank you, then nuzzled at your hair, making your heart skip a beat.

“You’re not the only one who wants to enjoy this season darling,” he said, making your eyes snap up at his and you giggled, resting a hand on his chest as you turned to Henry.

“So no, I’m not going to convince him otherwise,” you said with a smile and he held up his hands.

“I know a lost battle when I see one,” he said. “Fine. But make no mistake Ben, I will drag you out of your marriage bed next season if you don’t apply.”

“I will,” Benedict said with a chuckle as you downed your drink. “I happen to want to get into the Academy, remember?”

“Y/N, I’m just going to grab you before you become a part of this argument,” Lucy said and tugged you by the hand. “Let’s get drinks, you and I.”

Benedict looked between you. “Lucy…”

“I’m not going to steal her, don’t worry,” Lucy joked and linked her arm with yours, and you two walked away from them to the other side of the room where the drinks were being served.

“Have you ever been here before?” you asked Lucy, “This part of the town?”

“More than I could count,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I like parties, and this part of the town is quite scandalous, which means no one will bat an eye no matter what anyone does here or on the street.”

“Is that why the host shut down the whole street?”

Lucy shrugged slightly. “You’ll see once people get drunk enough,” she said and took a glass from the footman, then handed it to you. “You included.”

“Oh I’m not going to drink that much,” you said with a laugh and she tilted her head.

“This is a party,” she reminded you. “The whole point of being here is getting drunk and having fun.”

“I know, I know,” you said. “I’m just not good at letting go of control.”

“Aren’t you on your honeymoon? I’d have thought you were used to letting go of control by now.”

You choked on the drink you were sipping on and Lucy let out a laugh.

“Easy there.”

“Uh…” you cleared your throat. “Yeah but it’s—you know, that’s different.”

She shot you a mischievous look. “They expect women to be the paragon of propriety but as soon as you get married, you’re supposed to turn into an insatiable vixen behind closed doors with the snap of a finger,” she said. “Not to worry. It takes a bit of time even with the one you love, or so I’ve been told.”

“So you’ve been told?” you repeated and she winked at you.

“I was never that good at following rules, before or after marriage.”

You repressed a laugh. “You and I will get along well I think.”

“I’d hope so,” she said and her eyes stopped on someone over your shoulder, making you turn your head but as soon as you did, your heart dropped to your stomach.

Apparently Henry was pulled away by another friend of his because he was talking to another gentleman, and Benedict seemed to be in a deep conversation with a really pretty lady. The bitter taste burned your throat, making you down your drink in hopes of getting rid of it as the lady let out a laugh at something Benedict said, making him chuckle as well. She looked up at him through her lashes, admiration etched in her beautiful features and your jaw clenched as you narrowed your eyes.

Alright, you had to calm down.

There was no reason for you to feel bad. This wasn’t even a real marriage.

“He is quite popular but don’t let that make you jealous.” Lucy said and you turned to her, then let out a scoff.

“I’m not the type to get jealous,” you said, grabbing another drink from the tray before taking a big sip, shaking your head. “I’m not. I’m really not.”

“Say it one more time and I’ll believe you.”

“I’m—” you stopped yourself and took another sip, then stole a look at Benedict before forcing yourself to turn your glances to Lucy. “Uh, what’s that pretty lady’s name?”

“Lady Margery Sutton,” Lucy said. “She was widowed last year when her husband got lost in a ship accident after only three years of marriage.”

“Oh,” you said. “Sounds tragic.”

Lucy shrugged her shoulders. “I doubt she ever liked him much, certainly didn’t mourn him,” she said. “She had so many suitors but she picked Lord Sutton because he had an enormous wealth.”

“Really?”

“Mm hm,” Lucy said. “Even now she has quite a number of suitors. Breaks hearts here and there.”

“Does she now?”

“And she is a lover of art, or at least that’s what Henry claims.”

You bit down on your tongue, raising your brows. “How interesting.”

That sounded exactly like your plan before getting married, and it looked like Lady Sutton was enjoying widowhood well. If it were the start of the season, you would have actually admired her luck but now…

Now you could hardly focus on the conversation from an unreasonable anger burning through you.

“Are you alright?”

You downed your drink, then grabbed another glass again, clearing your throat.

“Yes of course,” you said. “Why would I not be alright?”

“Because you said you didn’t want to get drunk but you are drinking quite fast,” Lucy pointed out. “If this is about their conversation, I wouldn’t be worried. Benedict is completely in love with you, anyone could see that.”

No, Benedict and you were just pretending and you had no idea why the mere presence of this Lady Sutton was enough to make you want to go over there and pull him into a kiss. You dug your fingernails into your palms and managed to give Lucy a small smile, then shrugged your shoulders.

“I’m not worried,” you said calmly, and Lucy grinned.

“Good,” she said and linked her arm with yours. “Now come with me, I have so many people to introduce you to.”

                                                 *

Alcohol had a way of relaxing you and making you all giggly even though you had been quite tense at the beginning of the night. The sunrise was merely an hour away when you decided to leave the party and unlike you, Benedict had made sure to stay sober throughout the night so that he could take you home safe and sound.

Now to think of it, he had done the same during the last party as well.

Your stomach was doing flips, no doubt the consequence of drinking too much, and you took a deep breath as the carriage stopped in front of your house, by the stone road. Benedict helped you out of the carriage and you looked around, then gasped.

“Benedict, the garden!”

He pulled his brows together. “Hm?”

“Look at the garden! Look how pretty!”

“That’s our garden dearest,” he said with a chuckle. “You see it every day.”

“No but it’s so pretty!” you said and darted to get to the garden, Benedict catching up with you quite easily to press a hand over your waist to help you regain your balance when you stumbled.

“Easy,” he said, smiling. “Let’s not run around while you’re drunk, hm?”

“I had like…” you tried to count in your head, narrowing your eyes. “Only a couple glasses.”

“I counted eight.”

“You counted wrong,” you said with your nose up in the air and he nodded, biting back a smile.

“Mm hm, of course.”

You looked up at him, admiring how handsome he was under the moonlight before that warmth spread through your lower stomach and you exhaled through your nose, clenching your teeth.

“Unbelievable.”

He frowned. “Hm?”

You motioned at him. “You must do something about this.”

“About what?”

“Your face!” you exclaimed. “And the—the rest of you! Do something!”

“What—?”

“Ugh!” you stomped on your foot and wiggled out of his grip to walk away from him to get closer to one of the flower beds and sat down on the ground, your skirts fanning around you. Benedict approached you, then sat beside you.

“Why exactly are you angry at me all of a sudden?”

You pouted your lips, shrugging your shoulders.

“Why do you look so handsome all the time?” the question came out of your lips as an accusation. “What—what’s the need for that?”

He stared at you as if he wasn’t sure how to answer that.

“Uh…?”

“There’s absolutely no need for that,” you cut him off sternly before he could say anything else and he pursed his lips together, trying to keep a straight face.

“Right. Yeah, you’re right.”

“So, you know,” You waved a dismissive hand. “Make it stop, alright?”

“I’ll try?”

“Good,” you said. “Much obliged.”

He nodded slowly, resting his fist over his mouth to hide a smile and you turned to look at the flower bed, then grabbed at his arm.

“Do you know what these are?”

“Not at all,” his voice was soft. “What are they?”

“Chrysanthemums!” you said. “They need to be given enough time and space to bloom and there are so many requirements, like you cannot keep them in too hot or too cold climates, but especially too cold. They die otherwise.”

“Really?”

“Mm hm,” you said. “And you can also eat them—well, make tea with them. It’s quite lovely, good for headaches and such.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“I did,” you said, shooting him a proud smile and reached out to touch one of the flowers. “I miss it a lot.”

“Miss what?”

“Gardening,” you murmured, “It’s quite difficult not to. I didn’t even step a foot in the greenhouse ever since I moved here.”

“Why don’t you…?” he trailed off and stole a look at the flowers before turning to you. “Why don’t you do it then?”

“Because I will start to like it.”

“Good?”

“No it’s not,” you shook your head. “Because then it would be sad when you decided to take it away from me.”

He blinked a couple of times. “What?”

You reached out to pull at a small yellow leaf, hooking your fingernail between the leaf and the stem until you nipped it and withdrew your hand to look down at it.

“Y/N I would…I would never,” he said, making you look up from the leaf.

“Hm?”

“I would never take anything away from you,” he rasped out, his eyes locked in yours and you bit inside your cheek, ripping a piece of grass off the ground.

“Maybe not at this second,” you murmured, wrapping the piece of grass around your pointer finger and he shook his head.

“Not ever. I just—” he paused for a moment. “I just want you to be happy. Is that so hard to believe?”

You shrugged your shoulders, still playing with the grass.

“Um…” you trailed off. “Sometimes.”

“Why?”

You shrugged again.

“I don’t know,” you admitted and then raised your glances to look up at him. “But if it makes you feel any better, I didn’t use to believe it at all. But it’s sometimes now.”

A gentle smile curled his lips. “Is that a good sign?”

“It’s a sign I think,” you muttered as you laid on your back to fix your gaze on the glimmering stars. “I don’t know if it’s good or bad yet.”

Benedict’s smile widened and he nodded.

“I’ll take it,” he said, still keeping his eyes on you while you pointed at the sky, closing an eye so that you could see better through the blurriness which was yet another result of you having drunk too much.

“Benedict?”

“Yes my love?”

You were way too distracted to even notice the term of endearment slipping out even if you two were alone now.

“Look, it’s Andromeda!” you said, still pointing at the sky and he looked up, then turned to you.

“You remember that?”

You pulled your brows together, following the stars with your finger.

“I always pay attention to the things you say,” you admitted, dropping your hand to hide your yawn. “Even when you don’t think I do.”

A soft light appeared in his gaze and you heaved a sigh, closing your eyes.

“I’ll just sleep for five minutes here and then we can go back inside,” you murmured, your voice already drowsy and you heard Benedict standing up, then felt yourself being lifted up into his arms.

Even if you wanted to say you could walk, you were too sleepy and his arms were way too comfortable so you buried your face into his hard chest, enjoying his pleasant scent while he carried you inside, a soft sigh leaving your lips.

Then, sleep pulled you into its cozy warmth.

Chapter Text

Oh.

So this was what happened when you drank way too much.

You could barely open your eyes from the headache pounding in your temples and spreading over your eyes, making you let out a groan and bury your head deeper into the pillow. You snuggled into the covers, your eyes squeezed shut but your ears picked up a slight noise coming from the other side of the room and you opened an eye as difficult as it felt.

Benedict was half sprawled over the sofa that looked quite small for his sleeping figure, his arm thrown over his eyes to block the light. You repressed a small giggle at his attempt to actually fit in there and rubbed at your eyes, pulling yourself up to sit on the bed.

“Benedict?”

He groaned in his sleep and as soon as he tried to roll over, he almost fell off the sofa, slamming a foot on the floor at the last minute to regain his balance while your hands shot up to your mouth.

“Jesus…” he muttered, running his hand through his messy hair as he sat up and you lowered your hands.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah.”

“What are you doing?”

“You were very drunk,” he said, hiding a yawn behind his palm. “I wanted to keep an eye on you.”

You could feel the warmth spreading inside your ribcage and you tried to control your face.

“No I mean, what are you doing there on the sofa?”

“I didn’t…” he motioned at you. “I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable. How do you feel?”

“Dead, kind of,” you admitted, massaging your temples. “My head hurts.”

“As expected.”

“Don’t look so smug,” you made a face at him and he held up his hands, gesturing surrender. “You’re totally fine I assume?”

“I’m more used to it,” he said. “And I didn’t drink as much as you.”

“Lucy may have been a bad influence.”

Benedict’s head shot up. “Hm?”

“Lucy Granville?” you said. “She’s impossible to beat at drinking, I’ll tell you that.”

“Uh huh.”

“Both gorgeous and fun,” you commented. “Henry is a lucky man.”

Benedict cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck and you tilted your head.

“Don’t you think so?”

He blinked a couple of times. “What?”

“That’s she’s gorgeous and fun?”

He swallowed thickly, “I didn’t—I—” he stammered, motioning between you. “Haven’t noticed. Did she say something to you?”

“Like what?” you asked and Benedict stared at you, then shook his head.

“Uh, nothing. Don’t mind me, I’m still trying to sober up.”

“I think I will like spending time with her at the parties,” you mused and Benedict pressed his lips together, nodding his head.

“Wonderful,” he muttered and you leaned back to the headboard.

“How did you two meet again?”

“We um—we met through Henry,” he said. “At a party.”

“Was it a fun one?”

“…You could say that,” he said, averting his gaze. “Not the aftermath for sure though.”

“Hm?”

“Nothing.”

You slipped a little into the covers, rubbing at your forehead and Benedict stood up from the sofa, then walked to the door to open it to say something to the maid that was passing by. You stared at his handsome figure, raking your eyes over his body hungrily, and looked elsewhere as soon as he turned his gaze to you.

“I know the cure for the aftermath of a long night of drinking, but you’re not going to like it.”

You pulled your brows together.

“Oh God,” you said. “How bad?”

Benedict grinned and shrugged his shoulders.

“Very,” he said. “Very bad.”

Benedict’s cure for the headache after a party was quite possibly the worst thing you had ever drunk, a mixture of raw eggs and garlic. Even the thought of it made you grimace, but for what it was worth, it had worked very well. Towards the afternoon, around the time Charlotte was supposed come so that you two could go to the park, you were feeling much better already.

And your thoughts from the last couple of days were back in full force.

You would have been lying if you said the thought of Lady Margery smiling at him didn’t make you fill with so much fury. Though you knew very well that Benedict was attractive, it didn’t make things any easier, especially when—

Especially when you kept having those dreams about him.

You were more than aware just how much you desired him and luckily for you, you had an idea about how to solve this problem.

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding in your ears as you bit inside your cheek, trying to hold onto the smallest sign of confidence within you. You lingered at the top of the stairs, pressing a hand over your chest before you swallowed thickly and threw your shoulders back then made your way to Benedict’s studio.

His head shot up from the painting he was working on as soon as you knocked on the door frame.

“Hello there,” he said, giving you that lopsided grin that always made your heart skip a beat. “Feeling better?”

“Mm hm, your disgusting drink worked,” you said, leaning sideways to the door frame as you crossed your arms. “Even though I have zero idea how.”

“I don’t know how it works either,” he said. “I thought you and Charlie were going on a picnic.”

“She should be here soon enough,” you said. “Before I leave though…”

“Dinner with your family tonight,” he said, nodding his head. “No worries, I didn’t forget.”

“Great,” you said. “I’ll probably go straight there from the picnic, just so you know.”

“Alright,” he said. “We said eight but I should be there at..?”

“Seven forty-five,” you said. “My uncle is incredibly punctual.”

“And flowers for your aunt, she likes lavenders.”

“Mm hm,” you said. “And for my uncle—”

“Already got a box of cigars,” Benedict finished your sentence for you. “I was going to ask you, should I get something for Josie as well?”

You made a face. “Not at all.”

“Teddy?” he asked. “Because I already got him some art supplies, so I don’t know if I should bring those or keep it as a surprise here for when he visits.”

You blinked a couple of times. “Art supplies?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Sculpting stuff, you said he likes that.”

You could swear your heart melted but you frowned, trying to focus.

“Uh, let’s keep it here for when he visits,” you said. “Thank you though.”

“Of course,” he said with a small smile. “So, any tips on how to charm Josie?”

“You could charm a goddamn tree obviously, you’ll be fine,” you said. “But Bess likes Shakespeare, you could go from there.”

“Good idea.”

“And uh…” you hissed in a breath. “Andrew likes Byron.”

Benedict grimaced before grabbing his tea cup on the small coffee table. “I’ll keep that in mind, thanks for the warning.”

“Anytime,” you said and pursed your lips together. “And after dinner, do we—do you have plans?”

“I thought we were coming back home?” he said. “But I mean, if you want to go out—”

“No no,” you said. “I actually had something else in mind.”

“Like what?”

You took a deep breath, trying to appear nonchalant as he took another sip of his tea.

“I was thinking we could consummate.”

He choked on the tea he was drinking and started coughing while you pulled your brows together, tilting your head.

“Are you dying?” you asked, trying to ignore your own nervousness with sarcasm. “Because it would be pretty inconsiderate to do so right now—”

“I thought you changed your mind about being a widow,” he managed to croak out, and you frowned.

“I did!”

“Why are you trying to kill me then?”

“I’m not doing such a thing!”

“That’s not a funny joke.”

“I’m completely serious,” you said and he pulled back.

“…What?”

“Yeah I mean,” you said, your thoughts whirling in your head like a hurricane. “We could if you’re—if it’s fine with you. We’re—” you motioned between you two. “We’re married after all.”

Benedict stared at you and you shrugged your shoulders, trying to keep your expression calm.

“It’s no issue, we could just get it over with.”

A flash of sadness crossed over his handsome face and he kept his gaze on you for a moment.

“Get it over with,” he repeated and you nodded.

“Might as well, all the married couples are doing it,” you thought for a moment. “Or unmarried couples now that I think about it.”

“Y/N.”

“So tonight when we come back is fine for me in terms of time, does it work for you?”

Benedict scoffed a bitter laugh, looking down at the brush before raising his glances again. “Very romantic.”

You made a face.

“That’s not a funny joke,” you quoted him and he raised his brows, nodding slowly.

“Is this how you want it to happen then?” he asked, his voice distant all of a sudden. “No feelings involved?”

“Why would there be any feelings involved?” you asked back, ignoring the way your stomach did an excited flip and his jaw clenched.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Why indeed?”

“You said it yourself it’s usually just fun, nothing more,” you insisted as he shook his head slightly. “And you’ve done it multiple times so I figured—”

“I can’t,” his voice cut through yours. “Not with you.”

Oh.

It wasn’t as if you were unfamiliar with the idea of rejection, your whole life had been a string of rejections one after the other, so you had no idea why this one held so much power in it that it actually, physically hurt your heart, as if it was in fact breaking.

Which was ridiculous.

You didn’t have a heart.

The shock must have been apparent on your expression for once because a look of realization dawned on Benedict’s face and he took a step towards you.

“I didn’t mean—”

“Hello, is anyone home?” Charlotte’s sweet voice echoed through the hallway and you turned your head to see her enter the hallway, a smile lighting up her face immediately. She skipped her steps as she approached you.

“Good afternoon!”

There was a lump in your throat but you managed to smile back at her. “Hello Lottie.”

“And hello to you too,” she grinned at Benedict and motioned at the canvas. “Are you working on something new? May I see it?”

“Uh, Charlie could you give us a moment please?” Benedict said and Charlotte tilted her head and opened her mouth but you beat her to it.

“That’s not necessary,” you told her. “We can go.”

“Y/N-”

“I’ll see you at dinner,” you said without so much as looking at Benedict and walked past Charlotte to get away from Benedict as fast as possible. Charlotte rushed to catch up with you, a small frown on her brows.

“Is everything alright?”

“Oh definitely,” you managed to say, blinking back the tears. “Let’s just go.”

Benedict did not want you.

In that way or another.

The thought wasn’t supposed to be as painful as it was let alone making your chest hurt. This wasn’t even a real marriage, and he was surrounded by ladies who were nicer or prettier or had more artistic talents, so you had to have been a complete idiot to entertain that idea.

Falling for your own trick, what a foolish thing to do.

It was alright though. You were just going to act as if nothing had happened, and never bring this up ever again.

“…So then they stopped watching the play altogether and were pushing at each other until Tony made them stop,” Charlotte said, making you snap out of your thoughts. “I’m telling you, Gregory and my youngest brother Jack cannot even decide whether they’re best friends or enemies at this point.”

You nodded slowly. “They’ll get along well in the future I’m sure.”

“I hope so,” she said and you stole a look at her.

“Lottie?”

“Yes?”

“Was it Anthony’s idea or your idea to take the kids to the play?”

“Oh, Tony’s idea!” she said. “He always has wonderful ideas.”

You tried not to make a face, pursing your lips. “Uh huh,” you said. “So it was just the two of you?”

“Well, surrounded by the rest of the ton and a bunch of siblings.”

“And do you two always…enjoy each other’s company?”

“I always enjoy his company,” she said with a bright smile and you tilted your head.

“Do you?”

“Well yes, of course.”

“Enough to want him to court you?”

Her eyes widened and she pulled back slightly. “What?!"

You grinned. “It’s just a question.”

She paused for a moment and averted her gaze from you to fix the embroidery hoop in her lap.

“Tony would never consider me as a lady to court,” she muttered, and even you could tell the sadness laced in her tone, making you pull your brows together.

“Lottie.”

“No it’s true,” she said and lifted her head, trying to smile. “He only sees me as Benedict’s best friend.”

“I highly doubt that,” you said. “Benedict has many friends, I haven’t seen Anthony trying to take them to plays and such.”

“No I think—” she paused for a moment. “I think it’s also because he feels guilty.”

“About?”

“Well you see, everyone thought Benedict and I were in a courtship, which we were not,” she added quickly. “And we told everyone that, but they didn’t believe us.”

“Benedict mentioned that.”

“Yes and the ton still talks,” she said and a painful smile curled your lips.

“That I stole him from you,” you murmured. “Yeah. Hasn’t escaped my attention.”

“You have not,” Charlotte said. “Benedict is like a brother to me, we’ve never considered each other as a marriage prospect. And you two are in love!”

A bitter scoff escaped from you and you clicked your tongue.

“Yeah,” you managed to say. “Mm hm. Sure.”

“And you know, Tony is the head of the family and now with these rumors about Benny giving me hopes to abandon me out of nowhere, as silly as they are, surely reached him. So I think by spending more time with me than before, he makes sure to stop the ton from assuming anything.”

“I don’t think that’s the only reason Lottie.”

“It is,” she insisted. “Tony is…I will not even consider such a thought. His future Viscountess will be a perfect lady and I’m not perfect I’m afraid.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you said. “Lottie, Anthony would be the luckiest man in the world to marry you. I honestly don’t believe he deserves you but if you want him—”

“Let’s not talk of it,” Lottie cut you off. “Please. I don’t want to get my hopes up by your kindness.”

“I’m not kind,” you said. “I don’t know why both you and Benedict insist on believing that, but I never say things I do not mean.”

Lottie let out a laugh and squeezed at your hand.

“Perhaps we’re one of the very few you’re kind to?”

“Nonsense,” you brushed her off. “But alright, I won’t insist any longer as you wish, on one condition.”

“Name it.”

“You will tell me about your newest story.”

A smile lit up her beautiful face and she nodded fervently.

“Oh, gladly!”

It wasn’t as if you expected this dinner to be completely comfortable and easy, but your conversation back at your own home had made everything much more tense for you. By the time Benedict got to your aunt and uncle’s house, you had already made sure to look busy and stayed in the drawing room. Benedict was obviously looking forward to get you alone to talk to you and it was apparent all over his body language, his eyes stealing glances at you even while he was talking to your uncle in the drawing room but you ignored him, making conversation with Bess.

When it was time for the dinner, you and Benedict were of course seated together and even though the urge to look at him was very strong, you managed to control yourself.

“Benedict, thank you so much for the flowers!” your aunt said as the soup started being served and he smiled at her sweetly.

“I got some help, Lady Thorne.”

“I figured,” she said, winking at you and you smiled back, trailing your spoon in the soup. Teddy sat up straighter in his seat.

“Uncle, Benedict says I could become an artist!” he said and your uncle let out a small laugh.

“Does he now?”

“Absolutely,” Benedict said. “Teddy, we have a surprise for you when you come to visit us next time.”

Teddy gasped. “A surprise?”

“Mm hm.”

“What is it?!”

“That’s the thing about surprises Teddy,” you smiled at his little excited face. “It’s for when you visit, but I promise you that you will like it.”

“Speaking of artists,” Bess said. “Benedict, you must tell us everything.”

“I heard you’re planning on applying for Academy in the future?” Andrew asked and Benedict nodded.

“Uh, next year yes.”

“He already has many admirers, or at least the ones who were fortunate enough to see his art,” your aunt said and Benedict chuckled.

“You’re too kind, Lady Thorne.”

Josie frowned slightly, looking between you two while you trailed your spoon in the soup, then shot her a quizzical look when you felt her glances on you. She raised her brows and turned to Benedict but Bess had already noticed the look on her face so she beat her to it.

“Where do you get your inspiration from, Benedict?” she asked with a smile. “I’ve read so many works of artists, they all say different things. What’s yours?”

Benedict covered your hand with his and held it up a little, making your aunt let out an “aw”.

“That’s so romantic!” Bess said, turning to Josie, “Jo, don’t you think so?”

“Artists are required to be romantic I think, Bess.”

“Debatable,” Andrew said. “I think they’re just required to be talented.”

“Talent and love go hand in hand, one would say,” Bess said while you subtly pulled your hand out of Benedict’s, making him turn to look at you while you reached out to grab your glass to take a sip.

It was insincere and fake, all of it.

But at least now you knew it was. Now you knew he was absolutely faking it, and that he had the ability to do so, just like you.

You two made the best pretend couple in the ton, and that was saying something.

“Artists have fleeting loves, everyone knows that,” Josie commented and tilted her head at Benedict. “With exceptions, I hope.”

“Jo!”

“Otherwise—”

“Josie,” you cut her off and she shrugged her shoulders.

“What?”

“Let’s not threaten people at dinner, Josie?” your uncle said. “I’m sure Benedict is one of those exceptions.”

“I am,” Benedict said. “I absolutely am, I assure you. Your sister is the love of my life, you have no reason to worry.”

Well you had to give it to him, for a person who did not desire you at all, he definitely sounded convincing.

You scoffed and took another sip of your drink, then placed your glass on the table.

“Have you two decided on where to go for your honeymoon after the season is over?”

“We decided yesterday actually,” Benedict said. “We will go to Rome.”

“Oh I love Rome!”

“So do I!” Bess said and smiled at you. “It’s gorgeous, you will love it.”

You nodded slowly, swirling the drink in your glass.

“Yeah,” you said, not even wanting to think about just how awkward that honeymoon was going to be. “I can’t wait.”

After the dinner was over and it was time for you to go back home, you were so nervous that you could barely focus on anything other than how your heart was pounding in your ears. Thankfully your house was close to your uncle’s, so even though Benedict looked like he wanted to start a conversation in the carriage, he decided otherwise, probably because he was under the impression that you would throw yourself out of the carriage to avoid that conversation.

And it wasn’t exactly the wrong impression.

So when the carriage stopped, you immediately got out without waiting for the coachman to open the door or for Benedict to help you out, and made your way up the marble stairs leading up to the front door to the house.

“Y/N—”

“Good night,” you said as you stepped into the house and started climbing the stairs to get to the hallway, your heart still pacing in your chest quite fast. He heaved a sigh, following you.

“Can we just—”

“Benedict this is not necessary,” you said as you reached the hallway but he got in front of you before you could take another step, making you frown.

“What are you doing?”

“We need to talk.”

“We really don’t,” you said and he ran a hand over his face.

“We do,” he said. “I know how it sounded but…”

“You have no obligation to explain yourself,” you said as you walked past him. “In fact, I’d rather if you didn’t and we could pretend that conversation did not take place.”

“Not until you hear me out.”

“I’m not interested in that conversation I’m afraid,” you said when you reached your room but to your surprise, Benedict followed you inside. You took a deep breath and crossed your arms, turning to look at him.

“I assure you I have no bitter feelings,” you said. “If that’s your worry. It’s fine, you don’t want me and now that it’s clear, we can move on.”

He pulled his brows together. “What?”

“Yeah you can go and sleep with whoever it is you want,” you said, ignoring the bitter taste in your mouth. “Lady Margery I suppose?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Go be with a mistress of your choosing,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. “That was the plan anyway—”

“That was never the plan for me,” he cut you off and you rolled your eyes, walking to your vanity to take off your bracelet.

“Sure,” you muttered. “Mm hm.”

“Jesus, you really can’t see it can you?” he asked, bafflement apparent in his voice and you placed the bracelet on the vanity, stealing a look at him in the mirror. “It’s beyond me how someone so smart can be so damn clueless.”

You narrowed your eyes and turned around to glare at him.

“What?” you asked. “Do enlighten me, what do I not see?”

“You—”

“I’m honestly not offended or anything that you do not want me, what I don’t understand is why you keep trying to talk about this when I told you specifically—”

“Y/N.”

“That I don’t wish to have this conversation!” you continued as if he hadn’t interrupted you. “It’s fine, you’re an artist and your interest in me was going to fade away eventually, the only problem here is that we ended up getting married before it faded away so I don’t—”

“I’m in love with you.”

The impact of his words was immediate on you. That was more than enough to make you fall silent, your heartbeat echoing in your ears so loud that for a moment that was the only thing you could hear as you stared at him, at a loss for words.

“But you were saying something about my interest fading?” he said almost in a taunting manner, his eyes locked in yours, the light in them so intense that it made your face burn as he motioned at you to continue. “Go ahead, what was it?”

It took you a couple of seconds before the complete disbelief took over the control of your mouth.

“You’re lying,” the accusation left your lips quite easily and Benedict raised his brows.

“Am I?” he asked, his voice completely calm unlike yours and you swallowed thickly, pursing your lips to glare at him.

“I don’t know why but that’s a lie,” you shot back. “A cruel one at that.”

Benedict shook his head slightly as if he couldn’t believe you and crossed his arms.

“You don’t think it’s killing me to be close to you only when we’re with other people?” he asked. “You don’t think it’s the worst kind of torture to know that we only pretend for the other people yet I want to believe it’s real?”

You could feel the burning at the back of your eyes while you dug your fingernails into your palms, your head spinning.

“The difference between you and me is that I married the person I’m in love with and you didn’t,” he said, a pang of pain seeping through his voice. “That’s why I can’t. Because even if it will mean nothing to you—”

“I didn’t say it would mean nothing to me,” you managed to rasp out and a bitter smile curled his lips.

“No,” he admitted. “But you can’t say it will mean something to you either, can you?”

You clenched your teeth, trying to keep calm.

“You can’t ask me that,” you said, half pleading and half commanding. He pressed his lips together, his gaze turning soft for a moment before he nodded.

“Then let me clear out any misunderstandings you might possibly have,” he said gently. “I want you more than you could possibly imagine, but I’m not going to touch you until you are in love with me.”

You blinked a couple of times in confusion, staring at him and he shrugged his shoulders, offering you a small smile.

“Sweet dreams,” he said and walked through the door connecting your room to his before closing it behind him, leaving you there completely dumbfounded.

You let out a breath, your gaze still fixed on the door before you leaned back to the vanity, burying your face into your palms.

Chapter Text

Well.

This was quite awkward.

You had spent the entire morning hiding in the library, just staring at the page of the book you had randomly chosen without even paying attention to it. After two hours, you checked the clock on the wall and put your book down, then got off the sofa to peek your head out the door.

No sign of Benedict.

You made your way down the hallway to get to your room but as soon as you reached your door, Benedict’s door opened and he stepped out of his room, making you freeze in your spot.

God damn it.

“Benedict,” you breathed out and he paused for a second, then offered you a hesitant smile.

“Y/N,” he said. “Hello.”

“Hello,” you said. “It’s…it’s such a lovely surprise to see you.”

He tilted his head. “We live in the same house?”

“Yeah!” you nodded fervently. “Yeah I know, I just thought you weren’t home for some reason.”

“I was just leaving,” he motioned at outside. “I’m meeting Anthony and Colin so…”

“Oh.”

“You don’t have to do that by the way, you know?”

Your eyes shot up to his. “Do what?”

“You don’t have to hide in the library until I leave.”

“Oh I wasn’t!” you lied in a haste. “It’s just that Bess mentioned this book last night, and apparently we have it as well. It’s quite an exciting book.”

Benedict raised his brows.

“Ah,” he said. “Of course.”

A silence fell upon you and you shifted your weight from one foot to other.

“But um,” you swallowed thickly. “Benedict, about last night—”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said and you pulled your brows together.

“What?”

“Just because I love you doesn’t mean…” Benedict trailed off, making your heart skip a beat. “Well, you’re not obliged to say or feel anything back so we don’t need to play this whole hide-and-seek.”

You took a deep breath, your heartbeat getting faster.

“I thought you wouldn’t want to see me,” you admitted. “After last night.”

A soft smile curled his lips and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I always want to see you.”

You blinked a couple of times. “But—”

“Jesus Christ Ben, I thought we said one o’clock!” Colin’s voice echoing in the hallway cut you off, making you turn your head to see him by the top of the stairs. “Are all the clocks in your house broken or something?”

“Hello Colin,” you said and he smiled at you.

“Hello there. Can we borrow him?”

“I’m standing right here,” Benedict reminded you both and you repressed a grin while Colin shrugged.

“You’re also married,” he pointed out. “Which means you’re dead, basically.”

“I’ll remind this to you when you get married.”

Colin made a face. “Never.”

“See I used to think the same—”

“Your lack of self-discipline and inability to keep your promises don’t really concern me,” Colin said, making Benedict roll his eyes. “Says more about you, not me.”

“Alright,” Benedict muttered and turned to you. “I’ll see you before the ball tonight?”

“The ball?” you asked and snapped your fingers. “Oh. That.”

“Oh everyone is going to be there,” Colin said. “I’m honestly not looking forward to it.”

“Even if Miss Marina is there?” you asked and Benedict chuckled.

“That’s a good question.”

“One that I’m not answering,” Colin stated. “Have a nice day Y/N. Come on Ben.”

“See you tonight!” you said as Colin walked away and Benedict smiled at you before following him. You bit down on your lip.

“He wants to see me,” you muttered to yourself with a smile and a giggle escaped from your lips before you made your way to your room.

Even you had to admit that the ball was quite impressing, and it wasn’t only because the garden on your way to the house was very beautiful. Everyone seemed to be having fun, Daphne and her suitor Duke Hastings seemed to be in a deep discussion at the far away corner of the ballroom while Charlotte danced with Mr. Bayford on the dance floor along with other couples. You tried not to laugh at the frustrated look on Anthony’s face and while you chatted with Josie and Bess and sipped your drink.

“I happen to think that Rome is a wonderful idea,” Bessie said and you nodded.

“I don’t really know much about Rome except that it has a lot of art to be honest,” you said. “I just figured um—I just figured that Benedict would like it.”

She gave you a soft smile and heaved a sigh.

“I still can’t believe you’re in love,” she said, pressing a hand over her chest. “Right Josie?”

“It was a shock to hear, I admit.”

“And you make each other so happy, it’s so obvious!”

You nibbled on your lip, looking down at your glass for a moment before raising your glances at her.

“I’m not so sure about that actually,” you admitted and Josie frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not so sure I make him happy,” you muttered, rubbing at your wrist with your free hand and Bess and Josie exchanged glances before Josie cleared her throat.

“Bess, could you…”

“Oh I’d better check where Andrew is,” she said, looking around. “I’ll be back!”

She walked away from you two and Josie turned to you, tilting her head.

“What is happening?”

You shrugged your shoulders and shook your head.

“I don’t know,” you said. “I’m confused I think.”

“About Benedict?”

You nodded.

“What is it?” she asked. “Marital problems?”

“In a way.”

“Care to explain?”

“I just,” you trailed off, swirling your drink in your glass. “Benedict is a very nice person, and I’m—I’m a bit…”

“Reticent.”

You let out a laugh. “That’s one word for it.”

She raised her glass slightly. “Sounded nicer than venomous.”

“I appreciate it Josie,” you grumbled and she let out a laugh.

“Come on,” she said. “Tell me what it is.”

You took a deep breath before sipping your drink. “Do you ever wake up and think you don’t deserve Bess?”

“Every single morning.”

Your head shot up. “What?”

“Are you jesting?” she asked. “Of course I don’t deserve Bess, have you met her? She’s the most perfect woman in the entire world.”

“So it’s normal?” you asked back and she pulled her brows together.

“It is if you’re also trying to be the kind of person who deserves the one you love,” she said. “Did you two have a fight or something? Because I can go over there and threaten him—”

“No!” you said, shaking your head. “Don’t. It’s… it’s not a fight but it’s something.”

“Bad something?”

“Confusing something.”

Josie rolled her eyes. “Well, that’s not a surprise.”

“Why not?” you asked with a frown and she scoffed.

“Maybe because you’ve spent your whole life thinking you would absolutely hate your husband and it turns out you love him?”

You opened your mouth to retort but then pressed your lips together, remembering that Josie was supposed to believe you were head over heels for Benedict as well.

“Uh huh,” you said. “Yeah, sure.”

Josie narrowed her eyes. “Clover.”

“Hm?”

“Is there anything you’d like to tell me?”

You made yourself busy by taking a sip of your drink. “I already told you—”

“No, there’s something else.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I know how you get when you’re hiding something,” she reminded you. “So tell me. What is it, really?”

“Josie—”

“Y/N?” Anthony’s voice reached you and you whirled around on your heels.

“Anthony,” you said, desperate to get away from Josie and her observing skills, “Hello!”

“Hello, I was wondering—”

“Yes I can talk to you right now,” you said. “Sorry Josie!”

Josie shot you a disbelieving look but you grabbed Anthony by the arm to pull him away from her and walked away with him to the window.

“You really didn’t have to cut your conversation short.”

“Yes I did,” you said as you grabbed a drink from the tray a footman was carrying after thanking him and putting your empty glass on the tray as well. “What were you going to ask?”

“Did you see Benedict?”

“Yeah he’s with Colin,” you said. “He took him outside.”

Anthony frowned. “Took him outside?”

“To get some air, he’s had one too many,” you said, holding up your glass and Anthony pulled back slightly.

“Colin?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “It happens.”

“Any particular reason?”

“I’d share with you if you and I were on better terms but we’re not, so go ask him.”

Anthony’s frown deepened. “Better terms? We’re family.”

“By marriage,” you pointed out. “And let’s not pretend you ever approved of me, so…”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah it doesn’t matter to me,” you said with a scoff. “But I mean, you and I both know you’d much prefer Benedict didn’t marry me.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You absolutely did say that—on the other hand, I don’t think you’d prefer him to marry Lottie either,” you mused and his head shot up.

“I beg your pardon?”

You arched a brow. “Please. I’m not as blind as your family.”

“What do you—”

“What I’m very curious about is how Benedict can’t see it,” you said, ignoring the shock etched on his features. “He’s pretty observant in general but not this time it seems.”

“I don't-"

“Don’t look so horrified, you’d be surprised at how good I am at keeping secrets,” you said and nodded in the direction of Charlotte who was talking to Mr. Bayford now that the dance was over. “But she’s not going to be unmarried forever, you do know that right?”

“I—she—” Anthony stammered and cleared his throat in an attempt to pull himself together. “Charlotte is a family friend.”

You made a face. “Anthony, just because I dislike you doesn’t mean I’m oblivious to how you look at her.”

“Why do you dislike me so much?”

“I’d love to give you a list but the ball ends at midnight so we don’t have enough time to delve into that,” you pointed out. “That being said, I think you should make your move before someone else snatches her up, say Mr. Bayford.”

Anthony stole a look at them and turned to you.

“Even if I were to humor this disillusion of yours, which I’m not,” he added in a haste. “Charlotte would never consider me as such.”

You turned to him to see him better and rolled your eyes.

“I’m so glad Benedict got the smarts in the family,” you said in a mocking sweet tone. “Among the brothers at the very least.”

Anthony blinked a couple of times, staring at you.

“Did she…” he rasped out. “Did Charlotte say something to you?”

“There you two are,” you heard Benedict’s voice before you could even answer Anthony’s question and turned around to smile at him.

“And you’re back.”

“I am,” he said with a grin, “So is Colin, he’s around here somewhere. Probably with Daphne, she’s nowhere to be seen.”

“Excuse me,” Anthony muttered as if he couldn’t hear a word you or Benedict said and walked out of the ballroom in a haste. Benedict frowned.

“What was that about?” he asked and you shrugged your shoulders, trying to repress a grin.

“I have no idea,” you said. “Probably needed some fresh air as well, that’s all.”

By the time you got home, it was almost midnight. A lot of other guests were still in the ballroom, including Lottie and your family, but Anthony and Daphne seemed to have left the ball without letting anyone know. After the events of last night you were tired but also quite restless, so when you walked through the front door to enter the foyer, it took you a moment to gather up your courage as the butler took your coat and walked away from you two.

“Benedict?”

He turned his head. “Hm?”

“I didn’t know.”

A look of confusion appeared on his face. “Sorry?”

“What you said last night,” you said before you could change your mind. “About how…how it was killing you to pretend. I didn’t know.”

His eyes flitted over your face before he nodded.

“That’s alright.”

“It’s not though,” you said and cleared your throat. “I know I can be difficult sometimes.”

He let out a noise of disagreement. “Difficult is a bit harsh.”

“It really isn’t,” you said and took a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling to think of the right words. “I’m not very good at listening to people when they’re explaining something to me, but I’m working on it.”

A soft smile curled his lips as you rubbed at your wrist.

“And I’m sorry,” you managed to say. “It wasn’t fair to you, how I reacted. Or how I didn’t see it before.”  

“You don’t have to apologi—”

“Yes I do,” you cut him off and offered him a small smile. “I can’t say I like it, but I do have to.”

His soft smile widened, that fond light shining in his eyes.

“Well in that case your apology is accepted,” he said. “And appreciated as well.”

You let out a laugh. “Oh both?”

“Mm hm, both.”

“Well I appreciate you appreciating my apology—” you started but before you could finish your sentence, someone knocked on the door, making you look at each other.

“It’s midnight,” you muttered as he went to open it.

“Anthony?”

“I need to talk to you,” he said and nodded at you. “Good evening Y/N.”

“Is everyone alright?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Ben, a word?”

Benedict frowned at him but then turned to you.

“Please excuse us darling,” he said and stepped outside with him, leaving you in the foyer. Even though you were dying to hear what it was about, you had a feeling it was about what you had told him at the ball and knowing Anthony, he was probably having something close to an emotional enlightenment, at least as close as one would get after spending so much time completely clueless about his own emotions.

It didn’t even take them five minutes before Benedict entered the house again to find you sitting on the marble stairs, taking your bracelet off. You looked up at him as he stepped closer to you and crouched down so that you could see him better.

“I uh…” he cleared his throat. “Anthony needs me.”

“Now?” you asked. “Benedict, it’s the middle of the night.”

“I know,” he said. “But he has this thing and I need to be there for him.”

“Is everyone alright though?”

“Oh yes,” he said quickly and nodded. “Sure.”

“Then what is it about?”

He shook his head. “It’s a long story,” he said. “I’ll tell you later, alright?”

“Tomorrow?” you insisted and he licked his lips, then nodded again.

“Sure,” he said. “And Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

He swallowed thickly, his blue eyes searching yours.

“I love you,” he said. “If I’m not here tomorrow morning, just know that.”

You pulled your brows together. “Why would you not be here tomorrow morning?”

He paused for a moment and took a deep breath.

“You know Anthony,” he said, “I don’t know how long it will take, that’s all.”

Well, if Anthony was going to tell Benedict about how he had been in love with Lottie all these years, you had a feeling that conversation would last until the morning as well.

He stood up and leaned in to press a kiss on top of your head, his lips staying there a second longer than you expected before he pulled back and walked out of the house without so much as a glance back. You pulled your brows together, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped upon him kissing your hair.

“Men…” you muttered to yourself and stood up, then walked upstairs to your room.

You woke up to Paula knocking on your door gently before opening it to peek her head in.

“Ma’am?”

You sat up in the bed, rubbing at your eyes. “Yes?”

“Miss Harlowe is here, waiting for you in the drawing room.”

You turned to look at the clock on the wall and frowned slightly before pushing the covers off of you.

“Now?”

“Yes,” she said. “Shall I help you get dressed?”

“Mmm, maybe later,” you said as you grabbed your dressing gown to put it on. “It’s just Charlotte, it’s alright. Thank you though.”

She dropped a curtsy before walking away and you tied the robe of your dressing gown, then checked your reflection in the mirror and left your bedroom. You took a peek into Benedict’s bedroom through the half open door but he wasn’t there, which meant he was probably still with Anthony—

Ah, that was why Charlotte was here.

Benedict had apparently encouraged Anthony to confess his feelings the first thing in the morning and she was here to tell you about it.

“Good morning!” she stopped pacing in the room and came to hug you. “I’m sorry to have woken you up but I couldn’t wait.”

“Don’t be silly,” you waved a hand in the air as she pulled back from the hug to look at you better. “Welcome by the way.”

“Thank you, I have so much to tell you!” she said, squeezing your hand. “Oh, so much has happened since last night!”

You repressed a smile. “What is it?”

“Tony is in love with me!” the words left her lips in a haste as if she couldn’t hold them back any longer, her eyes shining. “He—he told me last night.”

“Did he now?” you asked with a slight smile, then tilted your head. “Wait, last night?”

“He…he visited our home last night around the bed time, saying there was something urgent he needed to talk to me and—he left before I could even say anything!” she said, making you frown. “And I visited Bridgerton home today so that I could tell him I love him back but Benedict was there and he told me what happened last night and at the early hours of this morning and ugh, I’m so angry at both of them for putting themselves in danger like that! I left before I could talk to Tony because I’m in love with him but I needed to calm down first so as not to say—”

“Wait,” you cut her off. “Lottie, what are you talking about?”

She blinked a couple of times before a look of realization dawned on her face.

“Benny didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” you asked back, your heart skipping a beat. “Lottie, is he alright?”

“Oh yes he’s fine!” she assured you. “He’s fine and so is Tony. By a miracle.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well…” Lottie licked her lips. “Alright since you’re family and Benedict will surely tell you, I suppose I can as well. Tony saw Daphne and Duke Hastings unchaperoned last night.”

You pulled back. “Oh?”

“And apparently there was an argument and—” Lottie cleared her throat. “It’s fine now, Daphne and Duke Hastings are to be married but after that argument, he and Duke Hastings decided to duel at dawn today.”

You pulled back. “What?”

“That’s why he told me he was in love with me last night,” she said. “In a haste, I…I couldn’t understand why but he must have thought he would die.”

You stared at her in silence and she blinked back the tears.

“Anyway, he went to that duel and—and Benny was his second.”

You could swear your blood froze in your veins.

“And they’re both fine now because Daphne stopped the duel and I’m so thankful but also I’m so angry at both of them!” Lottie said. “Tony could have died and so could Ben, sometimes seconds fight each other as well, shooting each other! For them to put themselves in danger like that—”

You held up a hand, your ears ringing as you tried to wrap your mind around what you had just heard.

“Lottie,” you managed to say, anger crashing down on you, making your sight blurry in a red haze. “I’m sorry. Did you just say Benedict went to a duel?”

Chapter Text

There had been multiple moments in your life where you actually saw red because of anger but this?

This was something else.

After getting dressed in a rush and getting in the carriage with Lottie following you, you told the coachman to take you to the Bridgerton House, and you more or less threw yourself out of the carriage the moment it came to a stop, Lottie rushing after you as you started climbing the marble stairs.

“I know you're angry and this is exactly why I left because I was very angry as well,” she said in a haste, trying to keep up with your fast steps. “I think perhaps you should take a breath and calm down—”

“I don’t need to calm down,” you said through your teeth and she heaved a sigh.

“Judging by the look of your face I’d disagree.”

“What look is that?”

“Bloodshed?” Lottie said as you walked through the front door, then turned to her.

“Where is he?”

“Maybe you could—”

“Lottie,” you said. “Where is he?”

She licked her lips and took a look at the foyer you were standing in, then pointed at a closed door at the end of it.

“Tony’s study I think.”

“Wonderful,” you said as you made your way to the door, then slammed it open with such force that it hit the wall behind it, the chatter inside the room coming to a stop at once. Benedict was leaning against the desk but as soon as he saw you, a look of realization dawned on his face while Colin sat up straighter and Anthony stole a look at Benedict.

“Hello gentlemen,” you said, leaning sideways to the door frame. “I’m not interrupting yet another life-and-death situation, am I?”

“…Uh oh,” Colin said, grinning slightly as he looked from you to Benedict. “You’re in more trouble now than a couple of hours ago Ben.”

“Leave the room,” you said and Colin downed his drink, then stood up, making Benedict frown.

“Colin!”

“I’m not putting witnessing manslaughter back in my plans today,” he called out as he walked past you and you snapped your fingers at Anthony.

“You too. Leave.”

“This is my study,” Anthony said, his voice full of disbelief and you opened your mouth to retort but before you could say anything, Lottie’s head popped around the doorframe.

“Tony?”

The look on Anthony’s face changed the moment he saw her. “Charlotte.”

“Could I have a moment with you?”

“No—”

“Yes,” Anthony cut Benedict off, making his eyes widen.

“Anthony, don’t you dare.”

“This is a marital dispute, I have no place here.”

“I risked my life for you earlier today, now is the perfect time to pay back that favor—”

“You’ll be fine,” Anthony said and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. You crossed your arms as you leaned back to the wall, your eyes narrowing into a death glare.

“Good morning Benedict.”

The eerie calmness of your voice seemed to make him shift his weight.

“Good morning,” he said. “How—how are you?”

You arched a brow, not even answering that.

“I almost forgot how murderous you can look when you want to—I was joking by the way,” he added, motioning at the door where Anthony had just left. “About risking my life earlier.”

“Oh,” you said, feigning being clueless. “You weren’t at a duel then?”

“…I was.”

“So you were risking your life,” you pointed out and he rubbed the back of his neck.

“It actually depends on how you look at it—”

“I’m looking at it as your wife!” you snapped. “Have you gone insane? Is that it? Are you insane?”

“Anthony needed me.”

“Oh well,” you said, throwing up your hands. “Then that changes things.”

“Does it?”

“No!” you exclaimed. “What were you thinking?!”

“Well—”

“After I specifically asked you not to die? Hm?”

“In my defense—”

“You go off to a duel and not even bother to tell me about it?”

“Can I speak?”

“No!” you pointed at him. “No you cannot!”

He held up his hands, repressing a small smile.

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll just stand here and wait for you to finish yelling at me then.”

“That’s the least you could do,” you shot back and he leaned back to the desk, crossing his arms. You shook your head, pacing in the room.

“I cannot believe you went off to a duel,” you said. “And kept it from me.”

“It wasn’t that dangerous.”

“If I’m not here tomorrow morning,” you mimicked his deep voice. “You knew exactly how dangerous it was.”

“Everyone is alright, me included.”

“For now,” you growled. “May I remind you that I have a knife that you gifted me? Has that escaped your notice while you were so ready to die in a duel?”

“I feel like it would kind of go against the idea of you being worried about my well-being if you threatened me with a knife.”

“I didn’t say I was worried about your well-being,” you defended yourself almost immediately and Benedict bit back a smile.

“No,” he said, trying to keep a straight face. “Obviously not. I don’t know what made me think that.”

“You should have told me,” you insisted and he heaved a sigh.

“You would have told me to stay.”

“Of course I would have!”

“That’s why I couldn’t tell you,” he said. “If you told me to stay…”

A silence fell upon you, your heart skipping a beat at the implication but you tried to focus.

“I could’ve been your second.”

“Seconds don’t have seconds.”

“Well this time they’d have to make an exception because I don’t want to risk my life for goddamn Anthony of all people!”

“But you’d risk it for me?” he asked with a knowing smile and you pulled back slightly, then scoffed.

“I don’t have to answer any of your questions,” you said in a haste, shrugging your shoulders. “That, and—and I take my apology from earlier back.”

He blinked a couple of times. “Why?”

“I’m not going to waste my apologies if you’re going to end up dead in a ditch!” you snapped and motioned at him. “I’m going home, try not to die will you?”

“Y/N…”

“I don’t want to hear it,” you said and pulled the door open, then turned to him when he took a step. “No. Don’t come after me.”

With that, you left the room and passed by the foyer, then walked out of the house to approach the carriage by the stone road.

“Where to ma’am?”

“Back home,” you said as you got in the carriage. “Thank you.”

You made yourself busy for the whole day until the evening, and apparently Benedict had decided to give you your space to at least calm down a little. You weren’t in the mood to have dinner, so you retrieved to your bedroom to lose yourself in a botany book and you managed to do so until a knock on the door made you lift your head from the book.

“Yes?”

The door opened and Benedict peeked his head in, making you narrow your eyes.

“May I come in?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “If you must.”

He stepped inside, the bouquet of tuberoses in his arms capturing your attention in a second but you managed to control your expression, raising your brows.

“For you,” he said, approaching the bed to give you the bouquet and you took it from him, reminding yourself that you were still angry at him.

“Thank you,” you said. “I can put them on your grave if you end up dead like you’re trying to.”

“…And I’m sorry?”

“Your apology is heard but not accepted,” you said, putting the bouquet in your lap, enjoying the lovely scent as you grabbed your book again and Benedict rubbed the back of his neck, shifting his weight.

“If it makes you feel any better I am already being punished by the universe.”

You lifted your eyes from the page again. “Hm?”

“You will not believe what happened,” Benedict said. “And it will come as a shock—”

“Even more of a shock than you trying to get yourself killed?”

“Let’s just take that off the table for a moment because trust me, you want to hear this,” Benedict said. “Anthony and Charlie—”

“Are in love.”

“Are in lo—wait what?” he asked, his jaw dropping as you turned the page absentmindedly. “Did you know?”

“Yes.”

“You knew and you didn’t tell me?”

“Could’ve been worse,” you said, fixing your gaze on the page. “I could have gone off to a duel and not tell you.”

“I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

“Are you going to live is the better question here.”

“Y/N.”

“Benedict,” you said with the same tone and he let out a breath.

“How long have you known?” he insisted. “Anthony says he’s been in love with her for years! And he didn’t tell me, and Charlie didn’t tell me and she tells me everything and now my wife—”

“Whom you almost left as a widow.”

“Has kept it from me?” he finished his question as if you hadn’t interrupted him while you hummed, still playing with the petals of the bouquet.

“I’m not to blame if you and all your family are blind,” you said. “It’s not like they were being subtle.”

“They were!” he said. “And—I don’t know how I feel about this. A bit betrayed to be honest.”

“Wonderful, we can form a club together,” you stated. “Like gardening. Only with more backstabbing, which you’re quite familiar with.”

“Anthony and Charlie though?” he asked, shaking his head as he started pacing in the room. “Why would they not tell me?”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to criticize people not sharing things with you.”

“One of them is my best friend, the other one is my brother,” he insisted, then made a face. “Oh God, it just feels wrong. She’s like a sister to me.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Not a sister to Anthony though.”

“Y/N!”

“Am I lying?” you asked and he ran a hand over his face.

“They wouldn’t get married, would they?”

“Of course not,” you deadpanned. “Because who would want to get married after loving someone for years and keeping it a secret, believing it’s impossible only to finally find out they return those feelings?”

“I think I need a moment,” he said as he sat down on the side of the bed while you raised your brows. “So all these years he has loved her but thought me and her would end up married?”

“Oh don’t worry,” you mused. “I have a feeling they’ll make up for the lost time once they—”

He recoiled, grimacing. “Please don’t finish that sentence.”

“I will finish whatever sentence I want because I’m angry at you,” you hissed through your teeth, leaning in to stress your words, “And you can sit there and think about how your brother and your best friend are going to get married and consummate soon enough, day and night!”

He let out a noise of disgust and you ignored him, returning back to your book, playing with the bouquet in your lap nonchalantly. He stole a look at you, and licked his lips.

"So uh..."

You raised your glances to shoot him a glare and he took a deep breath.

“Do you want to go to a party tonight?”

“No.”

“We could go see that new garden tomorrow if you—”

“No.”

“Or maybe we could go to this knife shop—”

“No,” you said, looking up from the book again. “I don’t want it.”

His eyes searched yours. “I know you’re angry but I assure you, I wasn’t in that big of a danger.”

You scoffed a bitter laugh. “That would’ve been very convincing if someone from my family didn’t actually get killed in a duel years and years ago so whatever lie you’re selling, I’m not buying it.”

He pulled back slightly. “Who?”

“Does it matter?” you asked back and he swallowed thickly.

“I didn’t know.”

“No you didn’t,” you muttered, turning a page and Benedict ran a hand through his hair.

“Can we—”

“Thank you for the flowers Benedict,” you cut him off, that familiar burning behind your eyes coming back so you quickly blinked back the tears, keeping your gaze on the page. “But I think I’d like to be alone now.”

“…Of course,” he said after a beat and stood up to walk to the door connecting your room with his. “Goodnight.”

You didn’t reply, still looking at the page without even paying attention to the words printed on it, and Benedict left the room, closing the door behind him. You let out a breath, ignoring the way your eyes were still burning with tears and hugged the flower bouquet tighter to bury your face into it, inhaling the pleasant scent.

The next morning you decided to go outside, not only to meet Lottie but also to congratulate Daphne on her engagement. Josie had sent a reply to your letter, saying she and Bess and Andrew would join you in the park later on, and it gave you enough time to get the details from Daphne.

Although, something told you she was holding back a couple of details from you since Lottie was there.

“And mama is taking me to the modiste tomorrow—enough about me, I cannot believe you didn’t tell me that you had feelings for Anthony!” Daphne told Lottie and she gave her a shy smile.

“I honestly didn’t think Tony would ever return my feelings.”

“We’ve been blind all these years, thinking you would marry Benedict…” Daphne said and stole a look at you. “No offense.”

“None taken,” you said. “Perhaps if Lottie married Benedict, he would have thought twice before going to a duel.”

“Oh don’t say that!” Daphne said and heaved a sigh. “I tried to stop them, I swear.”

“And you did,” Lottie said. “I don’t blame you at all Daph.”

“Mm hm, I’m blaming a specific someone who’s not you Daphne.”

“And I don’t know if I should say it but I’m kind of glad that duel almost happened,” Lottie said, making you and Daphne turn to shoot her a look of disbelief. “No I mean—obviously I’m still angry at Tony about it and I’m glad no one got hurt, but now albeit some complications along the way, Daphne is marrying the love of her life and I’m in a courtship with the love of my life which I thought was impossible! All’s well that ends well, as they say.”

“That’s one way to look at it I suppose,” you muttered and Daphne pressed her lips together.

“Yes, exactly.”

“Love is the most beautiful thing in the world.”

“Or the most annoying,” you pointed out, making Daphne pull her brows together. “Because one moment someone says he loves you and the next minute he rushes off to a duel, very eager to leave you a widow.”

Daphne and Lottie exchanged glances.

"Is everything alright between you and Benedict?”

“Sure,” you deadpanned. “What makes you think otherwise?”

“Um—”

“You know what?” you said. “I’m thirsty, I’ll just go and get a lemonade from the vendor. Do you two want anything?”

“No thank you.”

“No I’m fine,” they both said and you got up from where you were sitting under the tree, then made your way through the park to approach the vendor’s cart and got in the line. After only a couple of minutes, it was your turn and you ordered a bottle of lemonade, but before you could take out some coins out of your reticule, you heard a familiar voice beside you.

“Hello Y/N,” Anthony said as he handed the coins to the vendor, then took the bottle from him and held it out for you. “Lovely to see you here.”

You gritted your teeth and eyed the bottle in his hand. “I can’t say I share the sentiment.”

“A word?” he asked and you grumbled under your breath, then took the bottle from him and started walking beside him.

“Is Benedict around?”

“How should I know?” you asked back and he pulled his brows together.

“You two live in the same house.”

“It’s a big house,” you pointed out and he raised his brows, nodding his head.

“I take it things are still not completely alright between you two?”

“Anthony, you know I love nothing more than talk to you about my marriage,” you snarked. “That being said, let’s not this time hm?”

“Well, you did kick my door down the other day.”

“You almost got my husband killed,” you replied, looking down at the lemonade bottle before shrugging your shoulders. “Perhaps it’s not a good idea to point fingers here.”

“Simon is an honorable man and the duel was going to be just us, his second wouldn’t have fired a shot at—”

“You seem to confuse me with someone who wants explanations from you.”

He heaved a sigh. “I wouldn’t put him in danger.”

“Clearly,” you said. “That’s why you made him your second at a duel. Only logical action to take when you want to keep somebody safe.”

“Are you able to hold an actual conversation without any sarcasm?”

“No,” you said with as much sarcasm as you could have in one word and he shot you a look.

“I wouldn’t have taken him there if I thought for one moment he’d be the one to get hurt instead of me.”

“Do you want me to tell you how a duel works, Anthony?” you growled at him. “Stray bullet, ambush, someone’s aiming being less than perfect…”

“And none of those happened.”

“Because Daphne stopped you,” you spat. “Not because of you or Simon thinking logically for a second. It’s thanks to Daphne.”

“I know that,” he said. “But Benedict is alright.”

“By luck,” you shot back and he took a deep breath.

“If you’re being like this because you worry about your situation in case of his death, he has you covered.”

Your head shot up, anger slowly spreading through your system as your jaw locked in its place.

“I beg your pardon?”

“He put it on your marriage settlement and his will before you two got married, you get everything in case of his death,” he said. “You’d be taken care of even if you became a widow, not to mention you have my family’s su—”

“You know,” you cut him off. “I leave every conversation with you completely convinced that I can’t like you any less, and every single time you somehow exceed my expectations.”

He shot you a look. “No one would blame you if it crossed your mind.”

From a completely objective stance, he had a point there, what your financial situation along with your status would be if you were a widow was something you and every married woman in the ton were expected to worry about.

But somehow, you couldn’t even bring yourself to think about that, not when that scenario included Benedict’s death—

The pang in your chest was so sudden that it had you ball your hand into a fist, trying to focus on the reality.

“You think I care about money?” you asked him and he heaved a sigh.

“I think anyone in the ton would want to make sure they were safe,” he said. “It doesn’t make you a bad person if you are worried about that.”

A bitter laugh climbed up your throat and you shook your head slightly.

“I’m pretty sure you’ve looked into my family before Benedict and I got married,” you said. “So I shouldn’t have to tell you that the difference between everyone else in the ton and I is that I know how to survive without all this money and status and luxury just fine, I grew up without any of it.”

“That was before,” he pointed out and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Either way, that was never my priority no matter what you or anyone else thinks of me,” you pointed out. “Even before I got engaged, the only promise I was interested in when it came to marriage was that I would eventually be left alone.”

He tilted his head. “And yet, you are way too angry about this situation to enjoy the promise of being left alone.”

“Plans change.”

“I can see that,” he said and you swallowed thickly, biting at your tongue, trying to focus.

“You wanted to have a conversation without any sarcasm did you not?” you asked, locking eyes with him. “Here it is. The next time you put my family in danger, I will make sure you wish you died in that duel and even Lottie won’t be able to save you. Have I made myself clear?”

He looked almost impressed, a small, proud smile curling his lips before he bowed his head.

“Crystal.”

“Good,” you said and took a sip of your lemonade. “Well, I’d better go before the girls wonder where I am. Congratulations on your courtship by the way, don’t mess it up.”

With that you shot him a forced smile and whirled on your heels, then walked away from him, leaving him there quite dumbfounded.

Chapter Text

Playing the madly in love couple in public had never been challenging so far, so it was quite surprising that the mask was slipping.

You had a feeling that it was mostly because of you though.

For the past week, you had managed to keep your interaction with Benedict to a minimum even though it felt incredibly hard. Whenever you saw him in the hallway or you two went to your separate rooms, you were filled with this powerful urge to talk to him, but after that duel you weren’t so sure you could.

Though, there was no denying it. You missed him terribly.

Benedict on the other hand was respecting your wishes and giving you the space you wanted. Though you two pretended as if nothing was wrong in public, the usual displays of affection were not there, no doubt because he didn’t want to cross the line you drew between you two.

“Are you sure everything is alright?” Felix asked you while he sketched beside you under the tree you were leaning your back against. Charlotte had asked both you and Benedict to join her on a picnic but Anthony had spent no time to whisk her away, and Benedict was busy talking with his artist friends so you had excused yourself to read a book in the shadow of a tree, Felix soon joining you to sketch the view in a peaceful corner.

“Absolutely,” you said. “Why do you ask?”

Felix shrugged before tilting his head. “Is that your brother-in-law?”

You turned your head, then raised a hand in the air so that Andrew could see you, a smile lighting up his face immediately.

“This is a lovely surprise,” he said as he threw himself next to you. “Clover. Felix.”

“Andrew,” Felix said with a smile and you held back a grin upon hearing the first name basis.

“What are you doing here?” you asked and he motioned at the entrance of the park.

“Oh I had this business with an incredibly boring lord about—it doesn’t matter,” he said. “How about you? Is Jo around as well?”

“Mm hm, she and Bess decided to take a walk around the park,” you said and he grinned.

“They do love their walks.”

You shot him a mischievous glance and he looked inside the picnic basket.

“No cookies this time?”

“My reaction exactly,” Felix said and Andrew tut-tutted.

“You play with our feelings.”

“I’m just sitting here doing nothing,” you deadpanned, turning your gaze to Benedict at the moment he stole a glance at you, and you both looked elsewhere at the same time. Felix raised his brows and Andrew looked between you.

“Oh something happened.”

“That’s what I said!”

“Nothing happened, you both are being nonsense—” you started but got distracted the moment your looked at Benedict again who was just approached by Lady Margery. That bitter taste climbed up your throat as you gritted your teeth, but then forced yourself to turn back to your book.

“Oh it’s a jealousy issue,” Andrew pointed out and turned to Felix while your eyes widened. “That settles it.”

“It’s not a jealousy issue!”

“Of Lady Margery?” Felix asked Andrew who nodded solemnly.

“Seems like it, is that her name?”

“I’m sitting right here,” you grumbled, turning to glare at Andrew who rolled his eyes at you.

“You were a scrawny little thing when I first met you, that glare doesn’t work on me.”

“You might be the only person in the ton who doesn’t get intimidated by her.” Felix pointed out and Andrew chuckled.

“I built up an immunity.”

“Great, I’m still waiting for that day.”

“Oh you need to put in years before that happens.”

You shook your head slightly and kept your gaze on the book.

“Who is Lady Margery?” Andrew asked Felix who took a deep breath.

“She’s a very wealthy widow,” he said. “A lover of arts and the last I heard, she likes Benedict’s works.”

“Where did she see his works?” You couldn’t help but ask and Felix shrugged.

“At a party, I’m told,” he said. “Either that or Henry showed her.”

“Benedict is in love with you though, don’t feel threatened.”

“I do not feel threatened by her,” you deadpanned, still trying to ignore that burning in your throat. “A lot of people admire Benedict’s works.”

“Not all of them look like that though,” Andrew mused and you narrowed your eyes at him. “Not as pretty as you, obviously!”

You huffed out and closed your book as soon as you caught the sight of Josie and Bess. “I’ll get some fresh air.”

“We’re sitting outside?”

“Fine, then I’ll go and join Bess and Josie,” you said. “They’re over there.”

“Are you—”

“I’m fine,” you said as you stood up, painfully aware of Benedict’s gaze immediately turning to you. “Really. I just need to stretch my legs, I’ve been sitting here for way too long.”

You walked away from them, ignoring the way Benedict’s eyes were following you as you passed through the garden to make your way to Bess and Josie.

The dinner was quiet at first and you weren’t particularly hungry, so you kept playing with the food on your plate, pushing at it with your fork, trying your hardest not to look at Benedict even if you could feel him stealing looks at you.

He took a deep breath when you pushed at your plate, ready to retrieve to your bedroom but before you could stand up, he cleared his throat.

“Y/N?”

You looked up at him. “Hm?”

“I was going to tell you,” he said. “My mother invited us for dinner this weekend.”

“Oh?” you said. “Sure. What brought that on?”

He grimaced, making you bite back a smile.

“She wants the family to have dinner with Charlie’s family,” he muttered. “Which would have been fine if it were for any reason other than…you know.”

“Lottie and Anthony courting?”

He let out a noise of discontent and nodded his head. “That.”

“Will you be alright?” you asked. “During that dinner?”

He thought for a moment.

“…Uh huh.”

You raised your brows. “Very convincing.”

“It’s just—” he motioned with his hand. “Charlie and him?”

“It’s been almost a week since they started courting each other, how are you still so shocked about this?”

“Neither of them told me.”

“I wonder how that feels,” you pointed out and he scrunched up his nose, making you bite down on your lip.

“Walked right into that one.”

“Kind of like walking into a duel,” you mused and he nodded.

“Mm hm, kind of like that,” he said and his head shot up. “Which reminds me, I have something for you.”

You pulled your brows together in confusion.

“What?” you asked as he got up from his chair to come closer to you, then pulled the chair near you to sit down. He reached into the inner pocket of his waistcoat, then pulled out a tiny bag to put it on the table, making your frown deeper.  

“What is this?”

“It’s a gift,” he said, crossing his arms over the table so that you would see he wouldn’t pull the gift out of your reach. “Along with my heartfelt apologies and promise to not keep things from you.”

You stole a look at him, then slowly reached out to take the small bag. You untied it and turned it over, then blinked a couple of times when you saw the tiny seeds falling into your palm.

“Benedict—?”

“Geranium seeds,” Benedict said. “I figured maybe you’d want to plant them.”

Your eyes found his, your heart skipping a beat.

“And I’ve been told geraniums represent foolishness,” he added with a small grin. “Considering my actions of late…”

A small giggle escaped from your lips and you ran your fingertip over the seeds.

“But I haven’t been gardening lately.”

“I know,” he said. “They can grow in a vase as well, did you know that?”

A laughter climbed up your throat.

“Wow, really?”

“Mm hm,” he said, that proud smile playing on his lips before his gaze turned soft. “So until you want to put it in the garden, it can be in your room in a vase. If that’ll be more comfortable for you.”

He was giving you a way to garden and making sure you knew he couldn’t take it from you.

That familiar warmth spread through your chest as you put the seeds back into the small bag, and carefully tied it up before turning to look at him.

“Thank you,” you managed to say, “Really, Benedict. It means a lot.”

He shot you that lopsided grin and you held up your pinky.

“Truce?”

He raised his brows, then hooked his pinky with yours.

“Truce,” he said, tugging at your finger with his before pulling his hand back. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Who told you where to get geranium seeds?”

“Lady Margery,” he said, making you raise your brows but he looked nearly oblivious to your reaction. “You two have a lot in common, she likes flowers as well. She was telling me about it today—she also has a garden, apparently. Invited us for dinner whenever we’re available.”

“Did she now?” you asked, trying to ignore that bitterness in your throat. “Interesting.”

“You would get along well with her I think.”

“I doubt that,” you murmured and he tilted his head.

“Why?”

“Just a feeling,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders, and cleared your throat. “Speaking of gardens, I think I want to take a walk in ours and get some fresh air before bed.”

“Oh,” he said. “Alright. Do you—?”

You shook your head and pushed your chair back to stand up. “No worries. I’ll just walk around, that’s all. It’ll help me sleep better.”

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll see you later then?”

“Mm hm, enjoy your meal!” you said and walked out of the dining room, still holding the small bag tight in your hand, a smile curling your lips once again.

The interesting thing about your nightmares was that they had changed quite a bit after you had found out that Benedict had gone on a duel. Contrary to before, now your night terrors were about his death, getting shot in the duel, bleeding out in that field—

A gasp got caught in your throat as your eyes snapped open into the dark room, and you blinked a couple of times before wiping up the cold sweat off your forehead, realizing just how freezing the room was. Contrary to the pleasant weather from earlier, the warmth was replaced by the cold as soon as the night fell, and not only you had told the maids they didn’t have to start a fire in the fireplace, you had also left the window open as you went to bed.

You pushed the covers off of you and got up from the bed, now realizing you had no idea where the matches were because you hadn’t had to do anything related to fireplace ever since you had moved into this house. The familiar ache in your wrist that came back whenever it was cold made you grimace and you closed the window, rubbing at your arms. You thought for a moment, then walked to the door to peek your head out, the faint light at the end of the hallway catching your attention immediately.

Benedict’s studio.

Well, that room had to be warm.

You lingered at your doorstep only for a moment before you left your room, then made your way down the hallway to reach the studio to find Benedict sketching by the fireplace. Your heart skipped a beat at how effortlessly handsome he looked, and you knocked on the door frame, making his head shoot up.

“Mind if I join you?” you asked and he shook his head fervently.

“Not at all, come in,” he said, motioning at the other armchair across from the fireplace and you smiled at him, then sat down on the armchair.

“Nightmares again?”

You stole a look at him, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Just cold,” you said, holding out your wrist so that you could feel the warmth of the flames in the fireplace just so that the throbbing would ease a little. Benedict’s gaze fell on you as you turned your wrist, clenching and unclenching your hands. “What are you drawing?”

“Hm? Oh—” Benedict snapped out of his thoughts and looked down at the sketchbook before looking up at you. “Just some practice, that’s all.”

“Can I see it?”

He thought for a moment, then made a face. “You don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s you.”

You raised your brows, your stomach doing a happy flip.

“The sketch?”

He nodded his head and you arched a brow.

“I don’t want to see it or you don’t want me to want to see it?” you asked and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m not sure it’s good.”

“Can I be the judge of that?”

“Will you spare my feelings?”

“Absolutely, because I walk around sparing people’s feelings,” you retorted, holding out your hand. “Come on.”

He heaved a sigh, then handed you the sketchbook, making you giggle before you turned your gaze to the page.

Oh.

The sketch was so beautiful that for a moment you couldn’t help but stare at it, your mouth slightly open. It was a sketch of you from today, when you were sitting under the tree with a book in your lap, surrounded by beautiful flowers-

When you thought he was busy with Lady Margery.

Benedict’s voice pulled you out of your daze; “It’s that terrible huh?”

You looked up at him in disbelief, then shook your head.

“I was thinking the opposite actually,” you managed to say, turning your glances to the page again. “It’s just…”

“Tell me,” he said when you fell quiet and you licked your lips, then shook your head again.

“You drew me prettier than I actually am,” you mumbled, still admiring the sketch in front of you but you saw him tilt his head out of the corner of your eye.

“What?”

You shot him a small smile, then handed him the sketchbook back.

“It’s beautiful,” you said. “Too beautiful.”

Benedict let out a small chuckle, his gaze soft on you.

“Nothing I draw or paint comes close to how beautiful you are, you do realize that?” he asked, a fire spreading on your face. “That’s why I keep thinking it’s not good enough. It’s nowhere near a reflection, merely a shadow.”

It felt as if your heart was trying to escape from your ribcage with how fast it was beating and you felt a smile warm your face, then shot him a look.

“Well then I’m afraid I have no criticism for you,” you said, making him clutch at his chest.

“Oh no.”

“Mm hm,” you said. “Just what every artist hates. No criticism, only admiration.”

“You have no idea,” he played along and you giggled, holding your wrist closer to the fireplace again to feel the warmth on your skin, even in your bones. He watched you in silence for a couple of seconds, then took a deep breath.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not normally but cold makes it ache,” you said. “It should go away soon.”

“How did you break it?”

Your stomach did a painful flip and you bit inside your cheek, pursing your lips.

“That’s not important information,” you said, your voice completely flat and he paused for a moment, then nodded.

“Still don’t trust me huh?” he said with a small smile as you pulled your gaze off the fire to steal a look at him.

“Benedict—”

“It’s alright,” he said. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

A silence fell upon you both and you could feel the nervousness filling your system, but you managed to ignore it as you cleared your throat.

“It wasn’t…” you trailed off. “Peaceful. Back home, before my uncle took me in.”

He pulled his brows together in confusion as if he couldn’t understand how it was relevant and you turned your wrist again, still holding it to the fireplace.

“My parents were very different than yours, or my uncle and aunt,” the words left your lips very easily. “We could never tell when it was going to get bad because most of the time there wasn’t even an actual reason behind it, my father was always angry and my mother wasn’t any better than him, they just had different ways of discipline and punishment.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him pulling back but you didn’t turn to look at him, keeping your eyes on the fireplace.

“Josie got the worst of it, mostly,” you muttered. “She always got in the way to protect me no matter what and like I said, they had different ways, my mother would mostly just slap us or push us around, but my father…” You let out a bitter laugh. “My father was the type of person who would only stop beating the hell out of you when he decided it was enough, regardless of how much you cried—not that Josie ever really cried. I used to, but I learned to stop myself after a while.”

The memory hit you and you shook your head slightly, trying to focus.

“Anyway, there was this one time he got really mad at Josie and he was drunk, and in all that pushing and pulling this bottle got broken, and he had this…this idea to cut her hand with it so that she would ‘learn some respect’,” you quoted him, the words giving you goosebumps even now. “But my mother stopped him, saying it would ruin Josie’s chances to get married if he left any actual scars that her potential suitors could see, making her—what was the term?” you asked more to yourself and scoffed. “Damaged goods, she said.”

Benedict could only stare at you in silence.

“I was very young when it happened, so in my mind I figured that if I had an actual scar, then no one would want to marry me and no one could put me through what my father put my mother through,” you said. “But the problem was that I didn’t have any, so that night after everyone went to bed, I went to the kitchen to give myself one.”

The crackles of the wood in the fireplace echoed through the room, making you heave a sigh.

“I couldn’t really do it though, because it hurt way worse than I thought it would,” you added. “I stopped before I could push the knife deeper or drag it down, but my mother walked in the kitchen and saw me doing that.”

You could feel the tears burning your eyes and you blinked a couple of times to push them back.

“I begged her not to tell my father but of course she did, and father was absolutely furious,” you said. “He yelled at me, then shoved me headfirst into the wall and I hit my head very hard. And the thing about hitting your head is that you can’t really find your balance when it happens, so I tripped backwards and fell right on my wrist.”

For a second, the only thing you could hear was the burning wood and you shrugged your shoulders, then retrieved your hand and turned to look at him.

“That’s how I broke it.”

He looked nearly frozen, staring at you in complete silence as he blinked a couple of times like he was trying to wrap his mind around what you had told him. He gritted his teeth, that fire coming to life in his eyes and he opened his mouth but you stopped him before he could say anything.

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” you said, shaking your head. “I don’t need anyone to do that, I hate that nonsense. I’m fine, that’s not why I…”

You trailed off for a moment before you took a deep breath, your eyes locking in his.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t trust you Ben,” you rasped out, then offered him a small smile and got up from the chair. “That’s the moral of this story.”

“Y/N—”

“Good luck with your sketches,” you said, nodding at the notebook in his lap. “Being immortalized sounds rather lovely now to think of it. Keep drawing me prettier than I am, will you?”

With that, you walked out of the room, your heart still beating in your ears. 

Chapter Text

Surprisingly, there were no nightmares for the rest of the night. In fact, your sleep was uninterrupted until you woke up to the sound of the birds chirping, the warm sunlight spilling through the curtains. You heaved a sigh as you sat up in the bed, then stretched out, the knock on the door making you turn your head.

“Yes?”

The door opened and Paula stepped inside, then walked across the room to open the curtains.

“Good morning ma’am,” she said. “Did you sleep well?”

“Better than usual,” you said. “Is it breakfast time?”

“It is,” she said. “Mr. Bridgerton is already awake.”

You tilted your head. “Is he?”

“Yes, he was in the breakfast room when I saw him,” she said, pulling a gown out of your wardrobe. “This one for the day?”

You thought for a moment, then smiled.

“Yes thank you.”

It took you around half an hour to get ready, and you made your way down the hall to get to the breakfast room. As Paula had told you, Benedict was already there pacing in the room and he turned as soon as he saw you.

“Good morning,” you said, taking your seat and he stepped closer.

“Are you alright?”

“Why would I not be alright?” you asked, then looked up at the maid filling your teacup. “Thank you.”

“Ma’am.”

“Have you eaten yet?”  you asked Benedict and he shook his head.

“No— that’s not important,” he said and stole a look at the maids. “Can we have the room?”

They walked out of the room immediately, and you grabbed a piece of toast while he took the seat near yours.

“Tell me what you need."

“I mean I was going to say olive bread but I have it right here.”

"You know what I mean."

You rolled your eyes and shot him a light hearted glare. “Do I?"

“Does your wrist hurt?”

“Benedict I didn’t tell you all that just so that you could look at me with worry in your eyes as if I’m going to break down any moment,” you deadpanned, ripping the corner of the toast to pop it in your mouth. “And as I said last night, I’m fine. Josie had it worse than I did—”

“It’s not a competition.”

You paused for a moment, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Either way,” you said. “If you’re going to be like this at tonight’s dinner, I’ll skip it entirely and you’ll have to watch Anthony and Lottie be in love all by yourself.”

“Don't change the subject.”

“No seriously I’ll say I passed out, you can’t say it wouldn’t be belie—”

“Where is he now?” he cut you off impatiently, that fire burning in his blue eyes and you averted your gaze for a moment, then grabbed your cup to take a sip of your tea.

“Away.”

“But where?”

“I’m not telling you anything when you look like you’re going to find him to challenge him to a duel.”

“Duels are a matter of honor,” he said. “He has none. Trust me, I have other things in mind for him, had a couple of ideas last night.”

You tilted your head. “You didn’t sleep last night?”

“That’s not important,” he said. “Where is he?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but you can’t kill my father.”

“Breaking every bone in his body doesn’t count as killing him,” he paused for a moment. “Although, the idea is tempting—”

“Benedict,” you said and he let out a bitter laugh.

“He deserves it.”

You heaved a sigh and turned to look at him better, reaching out to place your hand over his on the table.

“You know it better than everyone by now that I’m not the forgiving type,” you said. “But any contact with him is way more than what he deserves.”

He gritted his teeth, still deep in thought. “He needs to pay for what he did.”

“He needs to be forgotten actually,” you pointed out. “I’m not going to spare that prick any thought, neither should you.”

Your name left his lips in an exasperated sigh.

“You’re my wife,” he reminded you, making your heart skip a beat. “I love you, I can’t just let that—”

“Benedict, I’ve quite gotten used to you being around,” you cut him off, your cheeks burning. “So stop trying to find a way to not be around, like murder or maiming.”

“But—”

“He is miserable, and he’s going to stay and die miserable in that hellhole,” you insisted. “I promise you, he’s not even worth your anger, he’s nothing.”  

He turned his hand under yours and lifted it to press a chaste kiss on your hand, his thumb caressing your wrist as he pulled back. For a moment you felt as if he could hear your heartbeat because of how fast it was, and a smile warmed your lips, that familiar fluttering appearing in your stomach once more.

“So,” you said. “Onto more pressing matters. Tonight’s dinner?”

He thought for a moment, then made a face.

“I just…” he trailed off, running a hand over his eyes. “Can we skip that?”

“Can we skip the dinner your mother is throwing to celebrate your best friend and your brother’s courtship?” you asked. “No. No we cannot.”

“You had a good idea there, if we said you passed out—”

“I was going to do that for my own benefit, not yours,” you said. “So no.”

“We’re married!”

“So?”

“So you’re supposed to be on my side,” he insisted and you clicked your tongue.

“Debatable,” you pointed out, trying to keep a straight face. “There are a bunch of married couples who stab each other in the back.”

“Like you, Brutus?”

“Kind of but look on the bright side,” you said. “At least I’m doing it to your face.”

“Oh much appreciated,” he said with a grin and you let a smile warm your face, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Of course,” you said as you took your tea cup to your lips. “I’m nothing if not considerate.”

Charlotte’s family was quite crowded and you knew it but all of them and the Bridgertons together in a room equaled absolute chaos. Lord and Lady Harlowe were very sweet, and you’d had the chance to have a small conversation with them before making your way to sit beside Eloise on the sofa.

“Well you look glum.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m delighted,” she said with a scowl on her face and you tilted your head, then stole a look at Charlotte who was talking to Daphne and Anthony. Colin and Benedict were already in a conversation by the corner of the room while the children ran around, Lady Bridgerton telling them to be careful. You reached out to touch her arm, then nodded at the door.

“Come on.”

“What?”

“Come on,” you said. “There’s still some time for dinner and you look like you’re in a need of some peace and quiet. Let’s go outside, they can call us in when the dinner is ready.”

“You don’t want to spend your time giving loving glances to your beloved, just like the rest of the people in this room?”

“My beloved is still not totally alright with the idea of Anthony and Charlotte, so I think I’ll leave him be,” you said and stood up. “He can handle himself. Let’s go.”

She huffed out but followed you out of the room and you both made your way downstairs, then stepped out of the house to go sit on the swings in the backyard. She looked behind her to make sure no one was watching you two, then turned to you.

“Will you tell my mother if I smoke?”

“Do I look like a person who tells people things?”

She scoffed a laugh, then took out a cigarette package to offer it to you, but you shook your head.

“No thank you.”

She put one between her lips, then lit it and exhaled the smoke.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she said. “I’m happy for Lottie and Anthony. I’ve spent my whole life thinking she would be a part of our family, just…”

“Through a different brother?” you asked and she let out a small laugh.

“Does it bother you?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “Not at all.”

“As it shouldn’t. I mean we didn’t know Anthony and Lottie were in love obviously, and her and Benedict were close friends so we assumed…”

“You and the rest of the ton,” you said. “And me for a while.”

“You thought they were courting?”

“Both Lottie and Benedict said they weren’t, on different occasions,” you said. “I would have taken myself out of that picture immediately if they were, trust me.”

She nodded slowly.

“So it’s not a matter of her being a part of your family,” you said. “What is it then?”

She thought for a moment, then shook her head.

“I was supposed to have more time,” she said through her teeth, making you frown. “This whole season—first Benedict got married, now Daphne is getting married, Anthony will certainly marry Lottie within the season and…I’m next.”

“Not Colin?”

“Have you seen him around Marina?” she asked. “And it doesn’t matter. If it’s not her it’ll be someone else. I was supposed to have years and years and now it’s…it’s at my door.”

Oh that feeling was quite familiar.

You pressed your lips together, curling your fingers around the rope of the swing.

“And before you tell me what a bliss love and marriage are—”

“I’m not going to say that,” you said. “Or any of that nonsense.”

She turned to look at you better, a look of disbelief flashing over her face.

“I’m just going to ask you something,” you said. “And do correct me if I’m wrong because I’ve only been here for a little time but…your family doesn’t strike me as people to push you into a marriage you don’t want, am I wrong?”

She shook her head again.

“They wouldn’t do that,” she said. “But it doesn’t matter. They all want me to fall in love and get married.”

“I think they want you to be happy,” you said. “They just think falling in love and getting married is the only way of doing so, but considering your family and status, you do have the luxury of choosing your own path to happiness if you wish.”

She blinked a couple of times.

“And you are not going to wax poetic about how marriage is the best thing in the world?”

You scoffed a laugh. “That would be quite hypocritical of me, considering I spent my whole life hating the idea of marriage.”

She stared at you. “Really?”

“Oh yeah,” you said. “It was merely a threat for me, Damocles’ sword hanging over my head. The idea never held much of a promise.”

“It’s a nightmare for me.”

“I don’t blame you,” you pointed out. “But it’s a nightmare you won’t have to go through if you don’t wish to. Your family loves you too much to put you through anything you don’t want.”

“And when I debut next year?”

“I’ll teach you how to intimidate your suitors with a glare,” you said, making her let out a giggle. “I’m quite good at it.”

“Mm hm, I heard. The Ice Queen.”

“I’ll hand over the crown to you,” you joked and she licked her lips.

“So you changed your mind but you’re not going to give me that speech about…”

“How you’ll also change your mind once you are in love and all that nonsense?” you finished her question for her. “Think of love like catching cold, alright? Yes it could happen to anyone, but you could take some precautions to make sure it doesn’t happen to you.”

She stared at you before a laughter escaped from her lips. “You have the heart of a poet.”

“That’s so rude of you,” you deadpanned, then shot her a grin. “I understand why you’re worried, but I can assure you, nothing you don’t want will ever happen to you. Not with the family you have.”

She offered you a small smile and took a drag of her cigarette again before throwing the cigarette butt on the ground to step on it.

“And you and Benedict?” she asked. “How come you fell in love if you took precautions?”

You bit down on your lip, deep in thought.

“We just…” you trailed off and took a deep breath. “He took me by surprise.”

She shot you a look. “Easy as that?”

You nodded your head, running your nail over the rope of the swing.

“Yeah,” you muttered. “Contrary to what people seem to believe, it doesn’t have to be complicated all the time.”

“Ladies,” you heard a familiar voice that sent a warmth through your chest, and looked over your shoulder to see Benedict.

“Brother,” Eloise said. “Mama sent you?”

“I volunteered,” he said. “I figured you wouldn’t want her to see you smoke. Dinner is ready.”

Eloise heaved a sigh and stood up from the swing.

“Let’s celebrate people being in love,” she grumbled in a dramatic manner and made her way to the house with you following her. Benedict squeezed her shoulder in an assuring manner as she walked past him, and you winked at him.

“Are you going to be okay, tortured artist?”

“Ask me again at the end of tonight,” he muttered and you let out a laugh, then stepped back into the house.

The dinner was developing quite similarly to what your and Benedict’s engagement dinner was like. Everyone was happy, Anthony and Charlotte looked like they were barely aware of anyone else in the room, Lady Bridgerton, Lady Harlowe and Lord Harlowe in a deep conversation before Lord Harlowe turned to the couple.

“I did have a feeling,” he said, motioning at them and Charlotte’s jaw dropped.

“Did you papa?”

“Mm hm. For both of you.”

“Wait, me too?” Anthony asked and Lady Harlowe chuckled.

“You weren’t exactly subtle, Anthony.”

Anthony grinned and reached out to hold Charlotte’s hand over the table, making Benedict shake his head slightly.

“He was I think!” Lottie said. “I didn’t know about his feelings, and I thought he wouldn’t share mine.”

“How could I not, my love?” Anthony said and Benedict pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I will stab myself with this fork I swear to God…”

“Benny!”

“Stop it Benedict,” Daphne said. “I for one am glad Anthony has found love. It’s the most precious thing in the world after all.”

“You know,” you said. “Living with Benedict, I thought I developed an immunity for how strange people in love sound most of the time, but apparently not.”

Colin shot you a confused look. “You’re in love with Benedict.”

“Never remind me that ever again,” you deadpanned, making Benedict pat your arm as if trying to console you.

“Benny, you must be happy for me,” Lottie said. “The love of my life loves me back—”

“Charlie, I’m begging you not to call my brother that.”

“Benedict, I had to put up with those endless goddamn speeches of yours when you fell in love with your wife, did you forget about that? You once talked about how beautiful she is for over thirty minutes, and I know that because Colin was timing it.”

You tried to repress your smile and Colin nodded.

“Thirty-five minutes, to be exact.”

“And also, what am I supposed to call the love of my life, Benny?” Lottie asked and Benedict shrugged his shoulders.

“Acquaintance?”

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered. “See Benedict, this is exactly why people thought you two were in a courtship and no one except Lord and Lady Harlowe knew they were in love.”

“We weren’t—”

“Oh please don’t think—”

“No no,” you waved your hands as a chorus of disagreement rose from the table. “Don’t worry about it, I know. Trust me, this—” you motioned at Benedict. “Would have been so much easier to understand if there was a courtship, just saying.”

“But there wasn’t, because I have been completely in love with Tony for years,” Lottie chirped and Anthony smiled at her fondly before leaning in to mutter something into her ear, making her giggle.

“Are you excited for your wedding, Daphne?” Lady Harlowe asked and she nodded.

“I am, Lady Harlowe,” she said. “And you are coming to the breakfast surely?”

“Oh we are, we wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“I might,” Eloise muttered and Lady Bridgerton gasped.

“Eloise!”

“What? It’s a possibility mama, who knows what might happen that day?”

“We will remind you of this when it’s your wedding breakfast dear,” Lady Harlowe said and you grinned at Eloise.

“I think Eloise will follow my lead when it comes to suitors once she debuts,” you said and Benedict tilted his head.

“Scaring the soul out of all of them?”

You nodded and Lord Harlowe chuckled before pointing between you two.

“All but one, apparently.”

You stole a look at Benedict, mirroring his smile and raised your glass slightly.

“Yeah,” you said. “All but one.”

The rest of the dinner went perfectly well and when you and Benedict returned home, the weather was still quite lovely, the sound of crickets and the water fountain reaching your ears, the warm wind caressing your skin. Benedict hid his yawn behind his hand as you looked up at the marble stairs leading up to the front door of the house, then turned to him.

“Tired?”

“Just a little,” he muttered. “I didn’t sleep last night, so…”

You paused for a moment.

“Right,” you said. “Of course. You must get some rest.”

“And you?”

“I think I’ll enjoy the fresh air some more before going to sleep,” you said. “It’s such a nice night.”

“Do you want some company?”

“Perhaps another night because I must insist that you go to sleep,” you said with a laugh. “Really. You look like you’re about to pass out and in case you forgot, that’s my thing.”

He chuckled, nodding his head before yawning again.

“Alright,” he said. “Good night then.”

“Good night,” you said and watched him climb the stairs before taking a deep breath. “And Benedict?”

He turned around to look at you. “Yes?”

“You know they will be happy together right?” you asked. “Anthony and Lottie?”

He smiled softly.

“Oh I know,” he said. “They’re so in love, I can’t believe I didn’t see that before.”

“I can’t believe that either,” you pointed out. “But you might want to tell Lottie you’re happy for them.”

Benedict grinned and nodded his head again.

“I did,” he said. “Right before we left. She knows.”

“Good.”

“I might take my time to tell Anthony though.”

“I’m behind that decision one hundred percent,” you said and he let out a laugh.

“I knew you would,” he said. “Sweet dreams.”

“You too,” you said and he walked into the house, leaving you in the garden. You heaved a sigh, then started making your way through the garden, enjoying the beautiful sight.

After passing by the roses, you leaned in to inhale the pleasant scent of sweet pea flowers, closing your eyes for a moment before opening them again. You ran your palm over them, looking down to see them better but as soon as you did, a four-leaf clover on the flower bed sticking out of the soil caught your eye, making you let out a chuckle.

“Well hello there,” you muttered as you reached down to rip it, then went back into the house.

You climbed up the stairs, but as soon as you reached the door to your room you paused, stealing a look at Benedict’s closed door. You nibbled on your lip, then threw your shoulders back and passed through the hallway to get to the door of his studio. It was dark aside from the moonlight spilling through the window and you stepped inside, careful not to bump into anything before approaching the small table which had his palette and a couple of his paints. You took a deep breath, then put the four-leaf clover on the table, stepping back to see it better, then frowned and stepped forward to put it on the palette, nodding to yourself once you were convinced it looked good.

A smile warmed your face and you bit on your nail, and left the studio to rush to your bedroom as if he could see you. You pressed a hand over your chest as you entered your room, then discarded your clothes as quickly as you could before you flung yourself on the bed to pull the pillow to your chest, a giddy giggle escaping from your lips.

Chapter Text

This was such a beautiful morning.

You woke up quite early, still feeling giddy after last night. It seemed to be one of those days where you just knew it would go well even from the beginning of it, which was quite surprising because it was becoming more and more of a usual mood for you, contrary to how you used to wake up before.

“You seem rather happy,” Paula commented as she finished your hair.  “Have you had nice dreams?”

“Something like that,” you said as you put on your earrings. “How about you? How was your night?”

“Uneventful I’m afraid,” she said but before you could reply, the knock on the door made both of you turn your heads.

“Yes?” you called out and the door opened, your heart skipping a beat as soon as you saw who it was.

“Good morning,” Benedict greeted you from the doorway and you felt a smile warm your face.

“Good morning to you too,” you said, standing up from your chair in front of the vanity, “Come in please. Paula you may leave us, thank you.”

Paula left the room and Benedict stepped inside, the four-leaf clover peeking from the front pocket of his waistcoat catching your attention immediately. Your smile widened when you noticed that he was holding something behind his back and you tilted your head.

“What’s that?”

“For my beautiful wife,” he said with a grin and held out a bouquet of flowers, making you let out a gasp.

“Oh my God!” you said and took the flowers from him, nibbling on your lip. “Thank you!”

“Likewise,” he said, motioning at the clover and you looked down at the bouquet that was not tied together by any kind of ribbon yet carefully cut and placed together, then up at him.

“Are these from our garden?”

“Mm hm, and Mr. Binsted has been a great help.”

You hummed, taking a look at the stems. “Thankfully,” you said with a teasing smirk. “I doubt you know where to cut the stems.”

“Yeah see, I was planning on just ripping them—”

“Don’t you dare!” you exclaimed, holding the flowers to your chest as if protecting them and Benedict chuckled.

“Then I remembered you have a knife so…”

“Two knives.”

“Ah yes, I stand corrected.”

You buried your nose into the flowers to take a deep breath, then raised your head.

“So I take it you’ve been to your studio already?”

“Mm hm, first thing in the morning. Painted a little.”

“Oh that’s wonderful!”

He shrugged his shoulders and heaved a sigh.

“I don’t know if it will turn out wonderful but…” he trailed off and you thought for a moment.

“You know, if you need help painting roses, I could help you,” you said with an air of exaggerated arrogance, making him let out a laugh.

“Oh really?”

“Mm hm. To share my rare gift and everything.”

“Much appreciated,” he said, that playful glimmer shining in his blue eyes and you nodded in a solemn manner.

“Talent only grows when it’s shared,” you said, walking past him to step out of the room into the hallway, still holding the flowers to your chest as he followed you out of the room. “Everyone knows that.”

“Well—” he started but was cut off when a very familiar and excited voice rang through the hallway.

“Are you home?” Teddy called out. “Can I see my gift now?”

You and Benedict exchanged confused glances before your aunt’s voice reached you as well.

“Teddy!”

“What on…?” you muttered as the butler entered your sight.

“Ma’am, your aunt and your brother—” he started but Teddy wheezed past him, running to you at full speed to crash into you.

“Thank you,” you told the butler with a laugh before handing him the flowers and asked him to put them in the water, then crouched down to wrap your arms around Teddy.

“Good morning,” you said, pulling back to see him better. “This is a nice surprise.”

“Where’s my gift?”

You hummed, tilting your head. “What gift?”

“You said—Benedict!” Teddy exclaimed, looking up at him as if asking for his help and Benedict chuckled.

“Don’t mind her Teddy, you definitely have a gift in the house as we speak.”

“Can I see it now?”

“Good morning to you both,” your aunt said and Benedict bowed.

“Good morning Lady Thorne.”

“My apologies for the intrusion and the very early hour.”

“Oh no,” you said, shaking your head fervently. “Please. You are always welcome here, so is Teddy.”

“I have this urgent meeting with Lady Wesley for the ball she’s planning to throw and all the Social Picnic Club is invited.”

“Social Picnic Club?” Benedict asked and you raised your brows.

“Think of it like a mini parliament among the ladies,” you said helpfully. “Actually, I take it back. I’m sure the actual parliament has fewer requirements to become a part of it.”

“It’s not so bad,” your aunt defended herself. “It’s a great honor, and when the time comes—”

“I will absolutely not be a part of it auntie, we’ve had this conversation before.”

“Anyway,” your aunt said while Benedict tried to repress his chuckle. “Teddy insisted that we visited you two on our way there.”

“For my gift!”

“And here I thought you missed me.”

“I did miss you!” Teddy said and you ruffled his hair, then turned to your aunt.

“Can he stay here while you have your meeting?”

Teddy gasped and looked up at your aunt. “Can I please, auntie?”

“Oh of course,” she said and turned to you and Benedict. “Are you two sure?”

“Absolutely!”

“We’d love to,” Benedict said. “And Teddy’s gift is going to take some time, so it’s even better.”

Teddy giggled and your aunt smiled at you.

“Very well then,” she said. “Teddy my dearest, we’re going to be on our best behavior hm?”

Teddy nodded fervently. “Yes.”

“I will be back in two hours tops.”

“Take your time,” you said and she kissed you, then bid you and Benedict goodbye and walked away from you. Teddy looked up at you, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Can I see my gift now please?”

“Did you eat yet?”

“I did, eggs and toast and jam,” he said impatiently, and turned to Benedict. “Can I see my gift?”

Benedict winked at you, then hoisted Teddy up to put him on his shoulders, making him let out an excited laugh that echoed through the hallway as you took a step towards him immediately.

“Benedict—”

“Yes?”

“Be careful,” you said and looked at Teddy. “Uh, Teddy maybe you should—”

“No!” Teddy cut you off. “It’s fun!”

“It’s just that,” you told Benedict, “You’re very tall so if you drop him he could get hurt—”

“I won’t drop him, don’t worry.”

“Y/N it’s fun!” Teddy insisted, his eyes shining with excitement and you heaved a sigh, then held up your hands.

“Alright then.”

“Ready to go?” Benedict asked and Teddy giggled.

“Yes!” he said and Benedict started walking to the studio with Teddy still giggling, and you shook your head slightly, then followed them with a smile on your face.

You asked the maids to bring a vase, some soil and the little bag of geranium seeds that Benedict had gifted you earlier. Since you did not hold any artistic talent or anything of the sort, you figured you could spend time with them by doing what you had wanted for a long time.

Digging your fingers into some soil and planting flowers.

Teddy looked like he was having the time of his life. Benedict was teaching him how to make the clay before they would model it around the simple figures made out of wires. He was listening to everything Benedict was saying, his whole attention on him, his tongue sticking out a little from the corner of his mouth as he tried to mimic what Benedict was doing.

You knew you were supposed to focus on your own work but it was a bit difficult when Benedict was sitting not far from you on the floor with his sleeves rolled up, letting you steal glances at his strong arms.

“And then we’re going to mix it, alright? Put some water in,” he instructed him and Teddy poured a little water into the mixture, looking up at him as if hoping for his approval and Benedict smiled, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “Very nice, see? You’re going to be the next Donatello at this rate.”

Teddy nodded with a proud grin and you tilted your head.

“Do you know who Donatello is, Teddy?” you asked as you put some soil into the vase, sitting on the floor with your legs tucked underneath you. Teddy thought for a moment, then shook his head.

“No,” he said, turning to look at Benedict. “Who is he?”

“He was this incredibly talented sculptor,” Benedict said as he checked out the clay Teddy was mixing, “He was born in Italy, and he worked really really hard to be a sculptor, and now his works are everywhere, just like yours will be one day.”

Teddy giggled, the happy sound making you smile.

“Can I see his works?” Teddy asked and Benedict nodded.

“How about your sister and I take you to Italy one day so that you can see his sculptures?”

He gasped and nodded fervently. “Yes please!” he said. “When did he—when did he make his sculptures?”

“Oh so so many years ago,” Benedict said. “Like five hundred years ago.”

Teddy’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“Mm hm.”

“And we can see them now?”

Benedict nodded with a grin, obviously happy with Teddy’s curiosity and excitement.

“Absolutely,” he said. “Because that’s what art does. It lasts for centuries and centuries, so that people can see it forever.”

“If I become a sculptor,” Teddy said. “Will people see my works as well? Five—five hundred years in the future?”

“They will,” Benedict said. “And they will admire all your works.”

Teddy turned to you, excitement shining in his eyes. “Did you hear that?”

“Mm hm,” you said with a grin. “That’s wonderful isn’t it?”

“It is!”

“Alright future artist,” Benedict said. “Are you ready for the next stage?”

“Yes!”

“We will put this clay around these wires, hm? So that we can have the shape we will follow and then work on it.”

Teddy nodded and got to it immediately, and you carefully put the seeds into the soil, pressing with your fingers.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join?” Benedict asked and you looked up from the vase, then grinned at him.

“Oh I think I’ll let the artists cover the art front,” you said. “I’m fine over here.”

“So wait,” Teddy said as he worked on putting the clay over the wire model. “Will people see your paintings five hundred years from now as well?”

“They will,” you said before Benedict could even answer and he gave you a smile before turning to Teddy.

“Your sister says so.”

“Will they see that painting?” Teddy asked, pointing at the half-finished landscape on one of the canvases and Benedict shook his head, then pointed at the covered painting at the corner.

“That one.”

“What’s on it?”

Benedict grinned and nodded in your direction, making Teddy gasp.

“Really?”

“Mm hm. Her portrait, or at least it will be once it’s finished.”

“I’m very excited for that one,” you commented and Teddy shifted his weight.

“It’s for future people?”

Benedict nodded and turned his gaze to you to smile at you softly.

“So that people will get to see what true beauty looks like even after five hundred years.”

You could swear your cheeks were on fire but you narrowed your eyes at him playfully, then made a face at him, making him laugh.

“That’s exactly how your portrait will look,” he told you and you gasped.

“No it will not!” you protested and poured some water on the soil. After making sure it was damp enough, you pulled your hands back, very much aware of the smile on your face.

“Too bad those flowers won’t last five hundred years,” Teddy commented and you shrugged your shoulders.

“No they won’t,” you said. “But they’ll be beautiful either way.”

Towards the afternoon your aunt came to get Teddy, and you spent the most of the day reading but when the night fell, you and Benedict decided to go to a party.  It had been a while since you last did that, and you always had such fun in them so you were rather excited.

It was only when you were in the carriage that you had asked where the party was and to hear the answer “Lady Margery’s” was less than ideal, but it wasn’t as if you could tell Benedict to turn the carriage around and go back home so you had tried not to let it affect your mood or your expression.

Lady Margery’s house was very impressive. It was surrounded by a huge garden full of different flowers on the outside, and the inside was full of artworks adorning the walls of many hallways leading to various rooms with different types of entertainment.

“Do you think Felix will be here?” you asked Benedict and he shook his head.

“I think I heard him say he had plans with—” he paused for a second, then turned to you. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“So Andrew and Josie,” he said, making you look up at him.

“Yes?”

“Andrew and Josie are married right?”

You tried to control the grin threatening to curl your lips. “Yeah they eloped. Got married in Gretna Green, Bess was there as well.”

“Right,” he said. “And uh…Josie and Bess seem very close.”

You had to bite at your lips, feigning innocence. “Yes they’re best friends.”

“They are—” Benedict swallowed thickly. “They seem to be very close best friends.”

You tilted your head, blinking up at him in a completely naïve manner. “Yes. Your point being?”

“Nothing at all,” Benedict said. “I was just wondering if they were—best friends.”

“They are,” you said. “They’re such best friends that most of the time they share a bed.”

Benedict raised his brows. “Oh?”

“Uh huh.”

“And when—when that happens, where is Andrew exactly?”

“Probably finding his own best friend to share a bed with,” you said, now letting a grin split your face. “It seems like his best friend might be Felix nowadays.”

Benedict gasped, looking at you in complete shock. “You did this on purpose!”

“The look on your face—how naïve do you take me for, honestly?” you asked with a laugh. “Do you think I wouldn’t be able to notice my sister being with her lover?”

Benedict shook his head, pointing at you. “Diabolical.”

“I seem to like seeing you beat around the bush, that was rather adorable,” you said, still giggling and he shot you a playful look.

“So you knew all along?”

“Of course I did,” you said. “I was there when they planned it—Benedict, if you so much as utter a word of this—”

“You know me better than that,” he said and you smiled at him.

“I do,” you admitted. “But anyway, yes. It’s an arrangement where everyone is happy, and you can’t say that for many marriages in the ton.”

Benedict thought for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose?”

“Well well, you did show up after all,” a teasing voice reached you and you turned to see Henry grinning at you. “Welcome.”

“Oh hello Henry,” you said. “Is Lucy here?”

“She’s…occupied at the moment,” Henry said before grinning at Benedict. “I may have a surprise for you.”

Benedict tilted his head. “What surprise?”

“One of my friends is coming to London,” Henry said. “Sometime this month, but considering how impulsive he is, it could be within the week as well. And it is someone I think you would love to meet.”

“Who?”

“Lord Easton.”

Benedict’s eyes widened and you looked between them. “Who’s Lord Easton?”

“He’s one of my absolute heroes in art,” Benedict said, still gawking at Henry. “Are you serious?”

“Mm hm. I did tell him I had a very promising artist he should meet.”

“Henry!” Benedict hissed. “You can’t tell him that, I don’t even…I’m not even applying for the Academy this year, and my paintings are not even close to be ready, let alone to be seen by—”

“They’re good, Ben,” Henry said and you squeezed at his arm in an assuring manner.

“You’ll be fine.”

“No no, Easton is a genius,” Benedict said and Henry shot you a grin.

“I don’t know if I should be offended about the fact that I’m not his hero in art.”

“One can have multiple heroes,” you teased him but before Henry could joke back, you heard a silky voice.

“Welcome to the party.”

You looked over your shoulder, then turned around to see Lady Margery better and Benedict and Henry bowed their heads. There was no wonder why she had so many admirers as Lucy had informed you earlier, she really was breathtaking. Her nonchalant smile fit the gleam in her eyes perfectly as she stole a look at them, then turned to you.

“We meet at last,” she said. “Mrs. Bridgerton, I’ve heard so much about you.”

You smiled back. “Likewise.”

“I hope you won’t mind that I’m stealing her for drinks, Benedict,” she grinned at him and you arched a brow at the first name basis. “We’ll be back, excuse us gentlemen.”

She linked her arm through yours and gently led you away from them so that you could pass through the hallway, and you looked around at the paintings hanging on the walls.

“You have a lovely home,” you said and she turned to see what you were looking at, then waved a hand in the air.

“Thank you,” she said. “It took me a while to get rid of all my late husband’s belongings and it included a lot of portraits of him and his family, but now there are finally paintings I enjoy looking at.”

You blinked a couple of times, then followed her into the room where there was a long counter with two footmen making drinks. It was such an unfamiliar sight that for a moment you just stared at them, then remembered to turn to her.

“My condolences for your late husband.”

She scoffed a laugh and motioned at a footman who quickly grabbed two glasses of drinks to bring you.

“No need for any condolences,” she said. “I’ve always dreamed of being a widow.”

Dear God, she really was what you had hoped to be before getting married to Benedict.

She clinked her glass with yours and took a sip, urging you to do the same. You could feel the drink burn your throat, but you cleared your throat and smiled up at her.

“Well then congratulations on getting what you dreamed of.”

“Why thank you,” she said. “I find the idea of marriage quite absurd if you ask me, especially within the ton. It’s the worst prison to be.”

“Not for everyone,” the words left your lips before you had any chance to stop them and she tilted her head.

“Oh obviously,” she said. “Benedict and you are the exception, Henry says so. Did you like the geraniums?”

Your eyes shot up to hers and you paused for a moment. It was almost like looking in the mirror, Margery was so good at keeping her cards up to her chest that you could not tell whether she was being friendly or not.

If it were a couple of months ago, she would have been your absolute hero in life, but now…

“Ben says you told him where to get those seeds,” you said and she nodded her head.

“Well I’m glad they worked,” she said. “Though I don’t believe in love, it’s quite pleasant to see the couples that do.”

“And what do you believe in?” you asked and she shrugged her shoulders.

“I’m a bit of a…hedonist I suppose,” she said. “What we call love is merely a name to cover what we truly desire. I don’t believe love lasts, so we should get all the pleasure we can get from this short life.”

Well it was no wonder why she and Benedict got along well. Though Benedict believed in love, his whole life had been nothing but a hedonistic existence up until very recently.

“And when I said that to Henry, he said I sounded like Lord Easton,” she said with a laugh and your brows furrowed. “Can you believe that? All this time, I’ve been unknowingly leading my life according to the ideals of my most favorite artist.”  

Oh.

Alright then.

The insecurity crashed over you so fast that for a moment you couldn’t even understand why your mood had changed. Lady Margery was everything you had wanted to be before getting married and you had a feeling that she was also what Benedict had wanted -and perhaps still did- in a partner. She was gorgeous, carefree, mysterious and well educated, she knew all about art and apparently they even had the same favorite artist.

And to make things even worse, she wasn’t even trying.

“Sir Granville says Lord Easton will be in London in a month or so,” you managed to say and she nodded.

“Oh yes I’ve heard. I’m rather excited to meet him—” she started but was cut off when someone called out her name, making her look at the person.

“The duty of a hostess even during a party,” she muttered and turned to you. “Will you excuse me please?”

“Of course,” you said and watched her walk away before letting out a breath, that heavy feeling still at the bottom of your stomach. You downed your drink, then put the empty glass on the nearest tray and made your way out of the room.

Everyone seemed to have fun, laughter and chatter echoing even in the hallway as you passed through it, then stepped outside. The chill weather was like a balm to your burning face, and you took a deep breath, then made your way down the stone road to approach the nearest bench to sit down.

It wasn’t even her fault. By all means, Margery sounded like someone you would be such good friends with, if you could extinguish this fire of envy in your heart and you knew it was nonsense, and yet…

You groaned and leaned down to bury your face into your forearms, taking deep breaths. You had no idea how long you stayed like that, but soon enough your ears pricked up at the sound of footsteps coming closer to stop in front of you.

You pulled out your knife and flicked it with one hand without even lifting your head.

“Walk away.”

“I thought you changed your mind about being a widow,” Benedict replied and your head shot up, and you tucked the knife back into its place before putting it back into your cleavage.

“Hello.”

“Hello there, potential murderer,” he teased you. “Is everything alright?”

You nodded your head, then stood up from the bench. “Sure. What are you doing here?”

“I saw you out of the window.”

“Ah,” you said. “Yeah I’m alright. I just felt like getting some fresh air, so…”

“Are you sure?”

You nodded again and took a step to walk past him but he caught your hand before you could walk away, your name leaving his lips again. You stopped dead in your tracks, sparks of excitement rushing through your veins before you bit down on your lip, then laced your fingers through his, your heart doing a happy flip. You could swear the simple gesture made his breath hitch and you stepped closer to him to rest your forehead against his hard chest, standing there completely still like a statue. His pleasant scent filled your nostrils, making you take a deep breath as discreetly as you could.  

“Hey,” Benedict said, his deep murmur vibrating in his chest. “What is it?”

You shrugged your shoulders without pulling back.

“Can we stay like this for a moment please?”

Benedict’s voice was soft; “We can stay like this for as long as you want.”

You nodded against his chest, and he dragged his fingertips up your spine to cradle the back of your head, probably messing up your carefully coiffed updo but you couldn’t care less. You closed your eyes as he nuzzled to the top of your head, burying his nose into your hair.

“What is it?” he murmured, his thumb caressing the soft skin of your hand and you swallowed thickly.

“Inside my head is not peaceful I guess,” you said. “It happens sometimes.”

“Do you want to go back home?”

“No,” you muttered. “I just…it helps. You being here.”

“I’ll always be here,” he said, his words like the sweetest promise and you felt a smile pull at your lips.

“Ben?”

“Hm?”

“Can you say that nonsense thing that I don’t believe in?”

He paused for only a moment before a chuckle climbed up his throat, coaxing a smile from you as well. His fingertips stroked over the back of your neck, sending a fire down your spine, raising goosebumps on your skin.

“I love you,” he murmured into your hair and heaved a sigh. “God, you have no idea how much I love you.”

You could almost feel your heart melting inside your chest and your smile widened, his words washing away that small insecure voice in your head. You squeezed at his hand, nudging at his chest with your nose before pulling back to look up at him. For a moment, you both stared at each other, your eyes locked in his, desire spreading through your veins like wildfire before you took a deep breath, trying to pull yourself together.

“Let’s go back inside,” you managed to say and he tilted his head to shoot you that lopsided grin, his eyes gleaming even under the moonlight as if he was amused.

“You are the most confusing woman I’ve ever met, did you know that?”

You gave him a mischievous smile, then tugged at his hand and started walking with him following you.

“I have no idea what you speak of,” you said, your heart still pacing in your chest, excitement making you nearly giddy. “I’m quite simple if you ask me.”

Chapter Text

To be completely honest, you weren’t the biggest admirer of weddings.

Up until very recently, they had only served as a reminder that you would have go through the same thing one day, and that always managed to make you feel breathless, tension filling your whole system.

But ever since you married Benedict, you had been surprising even yourself.

“My lady?”

You could tell Benedict was grinning from the tone of his voice and you jumped on your feet to steal a look at the closed door, then turned to Paula.

“You may leave Paula thank you—Come in Benedict!”

Paula opened the door to step outside and Benedict entered the room, stopping dead in his tracks the moment his gaze fell on you. You blinked a couple of times, trying to pull yourself together to not gawk at how handsome he looked, and he let out a breath, staring at you in silence for a couple of seconds.

“You are a vision,” he said softly and you tilted your head, shooting him a mischievous smile.

“I suppose it’s a good thing you’re an artist then,” you said airily and sat back down in front of your vanity, still smiling. “You look very handsome yourself.”

He gave you that lopsided grin. “Ready for the wedding?”

“Almost,” you said, holding up a pair of earrings before putting them down to grab another pair. “So the chapel first, then the breakfast?”

“Mm hm. But I’m guessing the breakfast will take some time.”

“I could always pass out if we get too bored,” you joked, your eyes finding his in the mirror. “That was what cut our wedding breakfast rather short for other guests.”

“I’m not opposed to that idea at all,” Benedict joked back and you turned to him, holding the bracelet over your wrist.

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” he said quickly and came closer to you to take the bracelet from you, then crouched down to get to your level. He clasped it over your wrist, his fingertips waking fire underneath your skin before he pulled his hand back as you nibbled on your lip.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

A smile warmed your face, excitement rushing through you and without so much as a thought you reached out to fix his cravat, your heart skipping a beat as soon as your gaze met his.

“It was um— it looks better now,” you stammered, retrieving your hand and shifting your weight. “Do you like weddings?”

Benedict paused, then shrugged. “I don’t really care for them.”

“Really?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“Because everyone says weddings are a celebration of love,” you said, motioning at him. “And I’ve never met anyone who worships love more than you. I mean you could compete with Bess and win, that’s saying something.”

“That’s interesting, Josie doesn’t strike me as a romantic person.”

“She’s not,” you said with a scoff. “Bess is romantic enough for both of them.”

“Hate for romance runs in the family then?”

You pulled your brows together. “I don’t hate romance.”

“Heavily dislike romance?” he tried again and you shot him a look.

“I’ll have you know, I’ve recently realized I don’t necessarily mind it,” you admitted with your nose in the air. “On certain, special and very, very, very rare occasions.”

Benedict leaned in slightly, tilting his head to pretend he couldn’t hear you. “Just so I’m clear, how rare?”

“Very rare!”

His laughter was like a melody in your ears but you scrunched up your nose at him, painfully aware of the smile curling your lips as well.

“We should go,” you said with a sigh. “We can’t be late to…celebrate love and all that nonsense.”

“Very romantic.”

“Always am,” you joked back and he straightened his back, then offered you his hand. You took it, your stomach doing a happy flip as you looked up at him.

“Well then,” you said. “Let’s go and celebrate.”

As usual, only the family was in the chapel and Daphne looked very happy, albeit nervous. When you and the rest of the family went back to the Bridgerton House, both she and Simon were surrounded by many guests who were incredibly eager to offer them their congratulations. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Daphne frowning at something her mother said before following her out of the room and you raised your brows.

Ah.

The wedding night talk.

At least you were certain Daphne and Simon were going to consummate their wedding, unlike you and Benedict. At first you were very glad about that but now…

Well, you’d had a change of heart on that issue.

“…I just remember being absolutely famished,” your uncle’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts and you tried to pay attention to the conversation. “Everyone except the groom and the bride eats at these things.”

“Probably because they’re busy thanking everyone for their good wishes,” Josie pointed out while Teddy ran around with Gregory, Hyacinth and Lottie’s siblings, giggling. “I’m so glad I didn’t go through this to be honest.”

“Because you eloped, Josie,” your aunt said and pressed a hand on her chest. “I wish we could have been there.”

“I’m sure we could throw a dinner party on your anniversary?” your uncle joked and Josie shook her head fervently.

“I’m not the biggest admirer of the ton uncle, you know that.”

“What, with your cheerful attitude? I do not believe it.”

You let out a laugh and turned your head when you heard your name being called, Lottie waving at you.

“Excuse me for a moment,” you said and walked to her, giving her a smile. “Hello Lottie.”

“Hey!” she said. “I could barely talk to you at the chapel.”

“Because Anthony has been hoarding you like a dragon with his treasure,” you pointed out, making her giggle.

“Well he is with Benny and Colin now,” she said. “And I’m sorry.”

“You have no reason to apologize, I promise,” you said. “So I take it this is a nice practice for you?”

“Hm?”

“For when you and Anthony get married?”

“Oh I—” she stammered, a happy smiling curling her lips. “I do not want to assume—”

“Lottie. Please,” you said. “You know it as well as I do that he’s more than ready, considering he has been in love with you for a while.”

An excited giggle escaped from her.

“I still cannot believe it,” she whispered. “I fear I’m in a dream.”

“The possibility of spending the rest of my life with Anthony would be my nightmare but I suppose it’s different for you,” you deadpanned and she bit on her lip.

“Nothing would make me happier,” she admitted, making you smile and roll your eyes playfully. “No really! I only wish he feels the same.”

“He does,” you said. “He’s only waiting for things to get calmer I guess, you know first Benedict’s marriage, now Daphne’s…”

“Oh I would wait for him for a hundred years,” Charlotte said. “I do not mind as long as he loves me.”

You made a face. “In love people never fail to surprise me.”

“You’re in love with Benny!”

“Why does everyone keep reminding me that?” you asked back, making her laugh. “I’ve been nothing but nice to all of you—”

“Y/N?” you heard Daphne’s voice interrupting you and both you and Charlotte turned to her.

“Hello Daph,” you said. “Congratulations again.”

“I’m so happy for you Daphne!”

“Thank you, both of you,” she said with a nervous smile. “Lottie, do you mind if I steal her for a moment?”

“Oh not at all,” she said. “I’ll go and find my siblings, they’re all over the house, I need to make sure they don’t break anything.”

“It’s alright if they did,” Daphne assured her and pulled you towards the foyer so that you and she could walk out of the house and into the yard.

“What’s happening?” you asked, confusion apparent in your tone and she took a deep breath, then turned to you.

“I must ask you a question.”

“Sure.”

“About the wedding night.”

Oh God damn it.

On one hand, it made sense that she would ask you, considering you two were friends and you had married into her family, not to mention everyone was convinced you and Benedict were madly in love.

On the other hand, unlike her wedding night, yours wasn’t happening in the foreseeable future.

Daphne seemed to have interpreted the look of fright on your face as discomfort because she quickly flailed her hands, shaking her head.

“I know you’re married to my brother,” she said. “And it must be very uncomfortable for you and trust me, it is for me as well. I recognize how unconventional it is.”

“…Right,” you said. “Uh huh. That’s the—that’s the reason, yes.”

“But my mama talked to me,” she said. “Not in a detailed way, she merely…she got embarrassed and I’m not quite certain I understood it all and you’re the only person in here who is both married and my friend.”

You blinked a couple of times and offered her a soft smile.

“What is it?”

She took a deep breath and looked around, then leaned in closer.

“Simon and I…we kissed before,” she whispered and you repressed a laugh.

“Oh really?”

“And before you judge me—”

“I couldn’t judge you if I tried, it would be quite hypocritical of me,” you said. “Considering I did the same.”

Her eyes widened. “Wait, you and Benedict kissed before your wedding?”

The memory was more than enough to send a fire through your veins, desire clouding your mind for a moment before you cleared your throat, then nodded.

“Mm hm.”

Daphne’s cheeks reddened.

“So when Simon kisses me, I really—I really like it,” she said and you tilted your head.

“That’s a good sign.”

“But after this conversation I just had, I must at least have an idea of…” she trailed off and looked you in the eye. “Please be honest with me. Is it pleasant?”

Oh, that—

Well, you’d had the same worries, and to be honest you still had your doubts about that but you couldn’t just tell her that. Your aunt had assured you it was pleasant, and that conversation you had with Benedict in the art room in this very house echoed in your ears;

“All poets say it’s perfection with the person you love.”

“And what do the artists say?”

You bit down on your lip, trying to focus.

“It’s…” you trailed off and took a deep breath. “Are you in love with him?”

“With my whole heart.”

You offered her a small smile.

“Then it won’t be just pleasant, Daph,” you said. “It’s going to be divine.”

She let out a relieved breath and pulled you into a tight hug.

“Thank you,” she said as she pulled back. “You’re a true friend.”

You waved a hand in the air.

“Don’t mention it,” you said and paused for a moment. “I mean it. I don’t want your mother to think badly of me, so don’t.”

She laughed and nodded her head. “Cross my heart.”

“Daphne!”

“That’s your cue,” you said as you stole a look at the wedding guests in the yard, one of them waving at her. She heaved a sigh.

“I will see you later?”

“Absolutely,” you said and watched her walk away from you to the guests. You smiled to yourself, then went back to the house, looking around for Teddy but he was nowhere to be seen. You frowned slightly, then made your way to Benedict who was in a conversation with Lucy and Henry.

“Hello there,” you said, smiling at them and turning to Benedict. “Have you seen Teddy?”

“Uh yeah, he’s in the kitchens with Hyacinth and Greg and Charlie’s siblings.”

“In the kitchens?” you asked and he nodded.

“Yeah there’s more cake there.”

You blinked a couple of times. “He already had two slices.”

Benedict looked almost abashed for a moment and cleared his throat.

“He asked me if he could have another slice and I said yes.”

Your jaw dropped. “Benedict!”

“In my defense, he said please—”

“You do realize that he’s going to have a stomachache and not going to eat lunch after this?”

“Darling I don’t think you’re listening to me, he said please.”

“You two are going to make fun parents,” Henry said with a laugh and both you and Benedict turned to look at him, your eyes widening. Lucy elbowed Henry with a smile.

“Don’t.”

“What? They’re already acting like parents and it’s only a matter of time.” he said, still grinning and you and Benedict exchanged glances, then averted your eyes from each other.

“I’m just— I’ll go and find him to check if he’s alright,” you stammered and Benedict nodded fervently.

“Yeah I’ll help you,” he said and quickly followed you as you walked away from them. You cleared your throat and made your way to the stairs with Benedict who let out a chuckle, making you look at him.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just—” he trailed off. “To think they believe that…”

“Not that surprising,” you pointed out. “You know what the ton is like, at least Henry is actually saying it rather than implying it.”

“Seriously?”

“I’d say we have like a couple of months until people start throwing us baby names—” you paused for a moment, tension making your stomach flip. “Benedict, should we talk about this?”

His eyes searched your face, and he seemed to have noticed the look of absolute nervousness on your face before he took a deep breath.

“About baby names?” he joked and you felt a smile curl your lips.

Alright then, maybe you wouldn’t talk about it just yet.

You were fine with that.

“Yeah,” you said. “About baby names, obviously.”

“Not really,” he said. “I mean if someone tries to give us suggestions, we can just tell them we already have an idea.”

“Do we?”

He nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “I for one think it’s quite clear that we should name the baby Nonexistent.”

You stared up at him for a second before a laugh escaped from your lips and you pushed at his arm.

“No?” he said, grinning. “Come on, it’s a family name.”

“Nonexistent Bridgerton,” you mused and looked over your shoulder as you made your way down the stairs. “Yeah, it has a nice ring to it.”

“See?” he asked with a laugh as he followed you. “I knew you would like it.”

Benedict was rather busy in his studio the next day throughout the morning, so you decided not to disturb him and instead meet with Josie to pay a visit to your uncle and aunt. It had been a while you dropped by the house, and you wanted to see what your garden was doing as well.

You were beginning to think that perhaps you could start working on your garden back home as well.

And perhaps you could even go into the greenhouse to see what was in it and work on it as well.

“Anyway, Andrew keeps talking about Felix,” Josie said as the carriage went down the road, the noises of the busy streets reaching inside. “And he seems rather sweet.”

“He is,” you said. “I always have much more fun at the parties if he’s attending as well.”

“Not with your husband?” Josie shot you a grin and you rolled your eyes at her.

“My husband is too talented,” you said, slightly aware of the proud tone in your voice. “So he keeps getting dragged away from me, by one person or another. Considering all the people attending the parties is the art circle…”

Josie hummed. “And how bizarre are they?”

“The parties or the people?”

“Both.”

You thought for a moment.

“Mostly very much fun and nice,” you said. “There are some…bizarre ones though. Why? Do you want to attend as well?”

“God no,” she said. “That’s not my crowd, sounds like too many people. Perhaps I might attend when you host one though.”

You pulled your brows together. “What?”

“Yeah I mean, will you not?” she asked. “You and Benedict are married, you get along well with his friends, not to mention you’ve just said you have fun in those. It only makes sense if you eventually hosted a party for that art circle as well.”

You blinked a couple of times, deep in thought.

“The idea hadn’t struck me until you mentioned it,” you admitted. “But yes, I suppose I could.”

“There you go,” she said when the carriage came to a stop, and you stepped outside after her, the coachman helping you both.

“Thank you.”

“Of course ma’am.”

You could hear Teddy’s happy chattering as you approached the house, so you went straight to backyard, passing by the house with Josie and Teddy let out a happy squeal the minute he saw you.

“Y/N! Josie!”

“Hello my sweet,” you said, crouching down as he started running to you, then flung himself into your arms. “How are you?”

“I’m well!” he said as he hugged Josie as well while you straightened your back. “I was just telling Mary how I’m going to be a sculptor!”

You smiled at the maid. “Hello Marry.”

“Hello ma’am.”

“Where is auntie, Teddy?”

“Um—she sent me outside to play,” he said, making you frown slightly. “Grown up business with uncle, she said.”

You and Josie exchanged glances and you turned to Mary.

“Do you know what it’s about?”

“I do not, ma’am,” Mary said, “Lord and Lady Thorne seemed in haste.”

“Josie, did I show you my sculpture? The one I made with Benedict?”

Josie managed to smile at him. “Not at all dearest, where is it?”

“Over here, come!” he grabbed her by the hand to pull her towards the picnic cloth under the tree, and you could already see a bunch of toys along with the small sculpture there.

“I’ll just see what this is about,” you told Josie and walked to the house to climb up the marble stairs, and passed through the front door. You walked into the foyer, trying to hear your aunt’s or uncle’s voice but all you could pick up was the occasional conversations of the maids as they walked in the upstairs hallway.

You hummed to yourself and decided to check your uncle’s study, but as you were passing by the small table in the foyer, a half-ripped envelope caught your eye and you stopped dead in your tracks, tilting your head to the left.

Your uncle never left envelopes around, he always opened them in his study or the drawing room.

You reached out to grab the envelope and turned it over to see who it was from but the second your eyes fell on the name, your breath got caught in your throat, the whole foyer spinning around you. You stared at the empty envelope, -no doubt the letter was with your uncle-, trying to fix your breathing, that familiar panic poisoning your system, running through your veins.

“You couldn’t find them?” Teddy’s voice reached you along with Josie’s heels echoing in the foyer but you couldn’t even raise your head from the envelope in your hands, fear gripping your heart so tight that your chest started to hurt.

“Y/N?” you heard Josie’s voice as you dug your fingernails into your palm, tears of absolute terror burning your eyes but you tried to blink them back, clenching your teeth.

“They are probably in uncle’s study, I will get them!” Teddy said, still too excited to notice how frozen you were and ran past you to uncle’s study while Josie touched your arm.

“Hey,” she said, “Are you alright? What is that?”

You swallowed thickly and looked up at her, trying to ignore the pain throbbing in your wrist.

“It’s a letter,” you managed to say, “From father.”

Chapter Text

Well, this—

This was definitely unexpected.

You could feel the fear pounding through your system, the ticks of the clock in the drawing room echoing in your ears. Josie looked almost frozen in her seat, but you knew that expression on her face way too well. As soon as your uncle had left his study, he had asked you all to go to the drawing room so that you could talk about the letter away from Teddy, who was sent to play outside again.

“What does it say?” you croaked out as soon as the maid walked out of the room after serving you tea, and your aunt heaved a sigh.

“There’s nothing to worry about, we assure you.”

“Uncle?”

“What your aunt said,” he said. “It’s just a letter.”

“He doesn’t write to you,” you insisted. “You know I know that. So what is it?”

"Dearest..."

“Can I see the letter?” Josie spoke for the first time and your uncle heaved a sigh, then handed her the letter. You rubbed at your wrist, watching her frown before you extended your hand.

“May I?”

“This is not happening,” Josie growled, holding up the letter and your uncle shook his head.

“Obviously it is not,” he assured her and you pulled the letter out of her hand, then scanned the lines, your heart still beating in your throat.

“…They want to host Teddy for the season,” you murmured, raising your glances from the letter, then shook your head fervently. “No. Not that’s not—”

“That’s not going to happen,” your aunt said. “Teddy isn’t going anywhere.”

“It’s a trick,” you managed to say. “Remember what he was saying when you first got there to get us out, he only wants Teddy with you so that he can use him to get more money from you—”

“I know that,” your uncle said. “Trust me. I see through him very well.”

“And this…” A hysterical laughter spilled from your lips as you checked the letter again. “What is this supposed to mean? Coming to visit?”

“He’s not going to come here to visit,” your uncle said. “As you said, it’s a trick.”

“Uncle, if he tries to take Teddy away—”

“He’s not going to take Teddy away,” your uncle said. “I promise you. He’s not going to get any of you there ever again.”

You threw the letter on the coffee table and flexed your numb fingers before digging your palms into your eyes, shaking your head.

“I will just throw more money at him and it’ll be the end of it,” your uncle said as you lowered your hands. “I honestly wouldn’t have told you if you two hadn’t found the envelope, there’s no reason to be worried.”

“And everyone is safe,” your aunt said, reaching out to squeeze your hand and you offered her a small smile.

“Josie?” your uncle said softly and Josie turned her head.

“I’m fine,” she said and cleared her throat, rolling her shoulders back before she stood up. “I’m fine but um…I need to find Bess, excuse me.”

She walked out of the room in a haste and you exchanged glances with your aunt, then you darted after her as well.

“Josie!”

“I’m fine I said!” she snapped as she made her way down the stairs and passed the foyer with you following her.

“No you’re not!” you told her as you both stepped out of the house and you grabbed her arm to make her stop. “Come on. It’s me. I was standing right beside you throughout that hell, remember?”

Josie turned to you and clenched her teeth, then scoffed a bitter laugh.

“I don’t want to see him, or her.”

“Funny we have that in common,” you deadpanned and she clicked her tongue.

“I might just have to kill him if he shows his face here.”

You grimaced.

“Don’t,” you said. “Bess would kill me if I let you get hanged, and I can’t handle Andrew alone.”  

She heaved a deep sigh and sat down on the marble stairs, and you sat beside her, taking her hand in yours.

“He’s not going to take Teddy away,” she said. “Over my dead body.”

“And mine,” you said and twisted your wrist, trying to ignore the throb of pain but it didn’t escape her notice.

“I almost forgot,” she mumbled and you shrugged your shoulders.

“It’s fine,” you lied through your teeth. “It’s a habit at this point, it doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

“Are you alright though?”

“Um…” you trailed off, pursing your lips before nodding your head. “Yeah. I’m just worried about Teddy, that’s all.”

“And yourself?”

“I’m safe, I have Benedict.”

Josie smiled slightly. “Yeah,” she said. “That's right. You’re married, they couldn’t take you back if they tried.”

“Oh that’s not why—” you paused and shook your head. “They wouldn’t have tried anyway. I’m not the heir, I’m worthless.” A small laugh climbed up your throat. “Look at that, I sound like mother.”

“Don’t say that,” Josie said. “Never say that. You know that’s not true.”

You heaved a sigh, fixing your gaze on the carriage before clearing your throat.

“You know, father sending a letter makes a lot of sense when you think about it,” you mused. “I was beginning to get too much sleep lately with zero nightmares. He must have sensed it or something.”

Josie’s lips twitched for a second and you raised your brows, then tried again.

“Not to mention I have been smiling too much, and Benedict even said he forgot how scary I can look sometimes,” you said. “We can’t have that, I have a reputation to uphold.”

That managed to draw a small chuckle out of her and you smiled at her, squeezing her hand.

“Will you be alright?”

“Probably,” she said. “You?”

“Always am,” you said. “I can take care of myself. Learned it from you.”

She smiled at you softly, then hugged you and stood up from the stairs.

“I will find Bess,” she said. “Will you tell Benedict?”

“Uh…” you trailed off. “I don’t know. I guess so.”

“I’ll just go and come up with a plan in case they do decide to show up,” she said. “Kiss Teddy for me?”

“Will do,” you said and she walked away to get in the carriage. You watched it go down the stone road and heaved a sigh, then stood up as well, threw your shoulders back and made your way to the backyard where Teddy was playing.

“Y/N!” he called out as soon as he saw you and ran to you. “Can we play now?”

You tried to blink back the tears and hugged him tight, then pressed a kiss on top of his head.

“Yeah,” you rasped out. “Of course we can, my sweet.”

When you got back home, it was after lunch and you were so tense that you could feel it all over your body. While you were with your family, you had tried to act as if you weren’t worried at all especially because Teddy was with you, but now that you were home and didn’t have to pretend, your head was swimming with possibilities of your parents showing up.

And if they did decide to take Teddy back…

No. That was not going to happen. You were not going to let them, not even if it killed you.

They weren’t going to hurt Teddy, ever.

“Hey you’re back,” Benedict’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts as you were walking past his studio and you turned your head, trying to pull yourself together.

“I am,” you said. “And you’re still here?”

He motioned at the canvas in front of him and you stepped into the room, your eyes finding the covered canvas at the corner of the room before you turned to him.

“New project?”

“You could say that,” he said with a sigh. “I was working on yours but there’s just something in your eyes that I cannot depict on canvas. Not to mention the…rest of you.”

You raised your brows. “What are you working on then?”

“A landscape,” he said as he stood up from the stool. “At least I will be working on it once I get back. Right now only the sky exists.”

“You’re leaving?” you asked, your stomach doing a painful flip and he nodded, then cracked his neck, making a face.

“Yeah I’m meeting Henry,” he said. “It wasn’t in the plans but he insisted. How about you? How was Josie?”

You could feel your throat tightening but you managed to keep your expression calm.

“She’s fine,” you said and shifted your weight, nibbling on your lip. “Benedict, can we um… when you come back, can we talk?”

He pulled his brows together. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah!” you said quickly. “Sure.”

“Because I can stay—”

“No need for that,” you said. “It’s not urgent.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” you lied through your teeth and smiled. “It’s just that—it’s a long story. It can wait.”

His blue eyes searched your face as if trying to see whether you were lying and you could feel the panic filling you once more so you cleared your throat.

“You should go, you wouldn’t want to keep Henry waiting.”

He nodded slowly as if still deep in thought and stepped closer to you to press a kiss on top of your head to say goodbye. As soon as he pulled back, you rested your forehead against his chest, his scent filling your nostrils, the lovely sensation shooting through the absolute terror in your mind. You closed your eyes for a moment as his hand went to the back of your head and he pressed his nose into the top of your hair.

“Hey,” he said. “Are you sure everything is alright?”

You swallowed thickly and pulled back to look up at him, wrapping your fingers around his wrist to squeeze at it in an assuring manner.

“Totally,” you said. “I’m just tired I suppose. I should take a nap until the dinner time.”

“Okay,” he said gently. “Then I’ll see you at dinner time and we will talk, yes?”

“Yes,” you said, nodding your head. “At dinner time. Sounds good.”

He kissed your temple, making you smile slightly.

“Get some sleep,” his murmur was soft and he walked out of the room, his footsteps getting distant.

Panic crashed down on you so fast that it made your head spin. Your breath got caught in your throat and you managed to sit down on the sofa before your knees buckled, your heart beating in your ears. You clenched your teeth and closed your eyes, then forced yourself to take a deep, shaky breath.

“You’re fine,” you muttered to yourself as you buried your face into your trembling hands. “You’re fine.”

For the whole day until the dinner time, you felt as if you were watching the world through a haze. The panic was always there at the corner of your mind, and no matter what you did, you couldn’t focus on anything.

Walking in the garden didn’t help.

Trying to read in the library didn’t help.

Going over the ledgers for the staff didn’t help.

You had spent some time in the gazebo to at least enjoy the weather and relax your mind, but even that didn’t help.

You went back to the house around the usual dinner time when the sky turned dark, even if Benedict was nowhere to be found. You weren’t even hungry to be honest, so when the maids asked if you would like to take your dinner, you told them it could wait until Benedict got there and excused yourself to the drawing room.

It took around two hours of you listening to the ticks of the clock on the wall while staring at the book in your hand for Paula to knock on the doorframe, then step inside.

“Ma’am, the food is cold,” she said. “Would you like the cook to heat it?”

You tried to unclench your jaw and took a deep breath.

“I’m actually not hungry,” you managed to rasp out. “Could you perhaps bring me some tea Paula?”

“Of course,” she said and looked over her shoulder. “And—there’s a messenger boy for you.”

That made your head snap up. “What?”

“Shall I send him in?”

“Yes,” you said and stood up from the sofa as she walked out of the room and the boy stepped in.

“Mrs. Bridgerton,” he said and bowed slightly. “Ma’am, I bring a message from Mr. Bridgerton.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach as dread filled your system.

“Is—is he alright?” you stammered, looking at the clock before turning to him. “He’s late but I figured—”

“Oh no ma’am, he’s absolutely fine,” he assured you quickly. “There’s just…there’s this party at Sir Granville’s house and he sent word for you to join them.”

For a couple of seconds you could do nothing but stare at him, your heart clenching in your chest as if someone was squeezing it.

“…He’s at a party?” you heard yourself say and the boy nodded.

“Yes ma’am. A very fun one too. He sent you a carriage to take you there.”

The disappointment hit you so fast that you could feel the tears rushing to your eyes but you blinked them back, turning around so that you could give yourself a moment to pull yourself together.

A party.

Of course.

He was at a party having fun while you waited for him like a goddamn pathetic idiot just so that you could talk to him about what had happened earlier.

The hot red fury burned through your chest and you pressed your lips together, willing yourself to keep it under control before you dug your fingernails into your palms just so that you could focus on something else. You gritted your teeth and sniffled, then cleared your throat and turned to him again.

“What’s your name?”

“Joseph, ma’am.”

“Joseph,” you repeated and grabbed your small purse on the coffee table, then took out two coins. “Would you do me a favor, Joseph?”

“Of course ma’am.”

“Tell Mr. Bridgerton that when you came here, the maids told you I went to bed early,” you said, putting the coins into his palm and his eyes widened, then he looked up at you and nodded.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Thank you for your trouble,” you said and he bowed again before walking out of the room. You went to sit down on the sofa again, trying to ignore how badly your eyes were burning but bit inside your cheek, willing yourself to stop the tears on their way.

Paula entered the room carrying a tray and placed it on the small coffee table.

“I had them put some biscuits and such as well,” she said. “You haven’t eaten the whole day—are you alright?”

Your throat tightened as you tried to swallow, still keeping your eyes on the fireplace.

“Yeah,” you rasped out. “Yeah I just realized something.”

“Realized what?”

“How much of a fool I’ve been,” your voice came out as a whisper and you sniffled again before clearing your throat. “Paula?”

“Yes ma’am?”

You turned to look at her.

“There’s uh…” you motioned at the door. “In my bedroom, there’s a vase with a tiny sprout in it. Can you give it to Mr. Binsted? Tell him it’s geranium and that he can plant it in the garden or put it in the greenhouse, or throw it away if he wants.”

“Of course ma’am,” she said. “Now?”

“Now would be good, thank you.”

She offered you a small smile and left the room. A bitter laugh climbed up your throat and you shook your head slightly, a tear escaping from your eyes. Your hand shot up to wipe it away quickly and you heaved a trembling sigh, then pulled your knees up to your chest and wrapped your arms around them, resting your chin on them and fixed your gaze on the flames in the fireplace.

You knew how to deal with anger.

Growing up in that hellhole your parents called a home had taught you a thing or two. You knew how to function with anger burning in your veins and remain completely calm to the outside world, no matter how much you wanted to scream.

And you should have seen that coming. It wasn’t as if this was Benedict’s first time telling you he would be there and then not turning up, it had happened when he had promised you a dance for the first time as well.

Not coming home at night was new though. You had read about it on Whistledown before you got married of course, but it hadn’t occurred to you that it would take place within your marriage as well.

Yet another thing you should have seen coming.

People didn’t change, really.

You couldn’t sleep that night no matter how much you had tried. You kept tossing and turning in bed, and when the morning came you decided there was no use trying, so you made your way to the breakfast room, the smell of delicious food filling your nostrils before you sat down, and a maid filled your teacup.

“Thank you. Can I have the room please?” you asked and the maid and the footmen walked out of the room, leaving you there. You pushed at the food in your plate and sipped your tea, grimacing at how hot it was before you heard the footsteps coming closer and soon enough the door opened.

Benedict.

Even the sight of him was enough to break your heart but it didn’t take long for sadness to be replaced by absolute fury. You could swear the rage was powerful enough to blind you but bit inside your cheek as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

“Good morning!” he said, smiling. “Y/N you have no idea what happened last night.”

Your jaw clenched as you watched him grab a piece of toast before he bit on it, your eyes taking in his whole appearance. He looked rather disheveled in a way you would have thought was handsome if it were any other time, but right now it only poured gas over the flame of your anger. His cravat was loosened, his hair was ruffled, he had rolled his shirt up to his elbows and the excited gleam in his eyes signaled that he’d had a rather fun night.

“I just got home by the way, I know I missed dinner but I sent a messenger boy to you last night but you were already asleep so I figured—anyway, last night there was this party at Henry’s, and Lord Easton was there!” he said, oblivious to your silent form. “My hero in art! And Henry introduced us, and he even showed some of my sketches to him and he said I was very talented! And Henry had this room for the party for artists only, and we all painted while drinking and Gordon—that’s Lord Easton by the way— he thinks I should apply for the Academy this year as well, can you believe that?!”

Your fingers curled into fists as you dug your fingernails into your palms, that fire in your chest climbing up your throat.

“I drank too much,” he said with a small laugh. “I absolutely lost the track of time around evening and we all fell asleep elsewhere at dawn, Margery was telling Lucy how her back will never go back to what it used to, and I woke up merely half an hour ago starving.”

You raised your brows, trying to keep your anger under control while he grabbed his cup to pour some tea, and took a sip.

“I’m just going to have a bath and a change of clothes after breakfast,” he said. “I can’t wait to introduce you to Gordon—he is a genius and he actually thinks I’m good! He was telling Henry how he didn’t exaggerate at all when he mentioned me to him!”

It felt as if you were swallowing glass shards.

“…Congratulations,” you managed to say through the haze of anger and he smiled.

“Thank you,” he said and sat down on the chair near yours. “Anyway, sorry about missing dinner last night. What did you want us to talk about?”

A silence fell upon you as you tried to see through the red haze of anger. You grabbed your fork just so that you could do something with your hands and pushed at the food on your plate, biting inside your cheek.

Calm down.

“It’s uh…” you rasped out. “It’s not important, I solved it myself.”

He tilted his head, now his whole attention on you.

“There was a problem?” he asked and you stopped the hysterical laugh threatening to spill from your lips at the last second, pursing your lips together.

Calm the hell down.

“It’s not important,” you repeated through your clenched teeth, willing yourself to keep your anger at bay as you kept your gaze on your plate. He shifted his weight, and out of the corner of your eye you could see he was frowning.

“Wait, I didn’t know—”

“It’s not important Benedict.”

“If I knew you needed me—”

“Why on earth would I ever need you?” the words left your lips like poison from a snake as your eyes snapped up to his, and even you were aware of just how cold your glare was.

As it was when you two had first met.

And even though you had been trying so hard to think through the fury and remain calm, you knew it was not going to work. The familiar fury had already taken over you, you were tired and sleepless and hungry and the worst of all, the tension that had been pulling at all your muscles since yesterday made you feel as if you were about to shatter into pieces.

He pulled back slightly, and from the look on his face you could tell that he recognized that cold glare just fine.

“What happened?”

A bitter chuckled escaped from your lips and you clicked your tongue, watching him with narrowed eyes.

“If this is about me spending the night somewhere else,” he said after a moment. “You were asleep already and I assure you nothing happened. I would never.”

“I assure you I couldn’t care less if anything happened,” you replied. “Your overestimate my interest in your life as usual. You are free to do whatever you want with whoever you want, that’s not the issue at all.”

“Then what is?”

“That you almost had me fooled,” you mused. “Which I admit was a mistake on my part to let you but you had yourself fooled as well so I suppose it’s not that surprising.”

His frown deepened.

“How am I fooling myself?”

“You’re not in love with me.”

A look of shock crossed his handsome face and you shrugged your shoulders, anger still pulsing through you.

“You—you’re just—” you stammered. “You’re an artist, a very good one at that, who was so desperate to fall in love and get some inspiration that you made yourself believe you were in love with the first person you found slightly interesting.”

“You don’t believe that,” he said, his eyes locked in yours and you scoffed.

“Why would I not?” you asked. “It’s the truth. You’ve never had any issues in your entire life so you had to create one, and you found the solution by making yourself think you loved me because all artists are supposed to be tortured and suffering, but life has been too good to you. Endless praise, endless wealth, endless opportunities with zero responsibilities, ought to be hard to find something to suffer in all that.”

His jaw clenched in anger. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No?” you asked, trying to provoke him but it was no use, because even if you could tell that he was angry, he didn’t even let it seep into his voice as he spoke.

“Not at all.”

“Even you have to see how convenient this all has been for you though,” you said with a small, insincere smile as you stood up from your chair, leaning your hands on the table. “You had to find someone who wouldn’t bore you to tears but still be accepted by the ton, so you found the one person who didn’t swoon at the sight of you just so that—”

He stood up as well, running a hand through his hair, taking a step away from you as if he was trying to keep his calm.

“Y/N.”

You kept going as if he hadn’t interrupted you. “Just so that you could have an inkling of what all the other artists were driven by.”

He turned to you and narrowed his eyes. “You’re honestly being nonsense right now.”

“No, I think it’s the first time since I met you that I can actually see clear,” you retorted. “That’s what I meant by fooling me. And this?” you motioned between you two. “This was never supposed to get to this point. You didn’t even want to marry me, you merely wanted to find someone whom you could use as your inspiration because you’re so used to getting everything and everyone you want—”

“Don’t.”

“And you figured you might as well pretend to love me—”

“That’s not—”

The impatience got the best of you; “Do not interrupt me!”

“I will interrupt you all I want if you’re going to throw false accusations around!” he snapped back and you let out a bitter chuckle, a momentary silence falling upon the room until you broke it.

“I’m not accusing you,” you ended up saying. “If anything, I’m thanking you.”

He raised his brows, sarcasm etched in his tone. “Oh you’re thanking me?”

“Absolutely,” you said. “Now that we both know the truth, I do not need to feel guilty or bad.”

“For what?”

“For not feeling the same.”

That managed to get an actual reaction from him. The flash of pain crossing his face was more than enough to make your throat tighten, tears filling your eyes but you quickly blinked them back, trying to ignore just how badly your chest was hurting.

“You do not love me,” the words spilled from your lips like a growl, and you leaned in to lock your eyes with his, your palms on the table. “And I do not love you. I will never, ever love you.”

With that, you pushed yourself off the table and walked out of the room without looking back, tears burning your eyes but you managed to keep them at bay until you reached your room and slammed the door behind you and fell on your knees.

And then you started sobbing.

Chapter Text

Well, this had to be the infamous heartbreak all those artists and writers never shut up about.

And as far as you could tell, you hated it.

It was as if sadness had taken all the energy out of your body for the last couple of days. You hadn’t really seen Benedict since that fight at the breakfast, he had spent all his time either outside or in his studio and you had spent your time in your room or the library, mostly sulking.

“My lady?”

You opened your eyes and sat up in the bed as your maid walked inside. It was afternoon, you had taken your breakfast in your room and had curled up on the bed again with a book in your hand that you had no idea what was about.

“Yeah?” you croaked out and Paula offered you an apologetic smile before showing you the envelope she was holding, making your heart drop to your stomach.

“Who’s that from?” you asked, your voice shaky with fear and she checked the name.

“Lady Margery Sutton?”

The relief that filled your system was so sudden that it made your head spin before it was quickly replaced by confusion.

“For me?”

“Yes ma’am.”

You held out your hand so that she could give you the envelope, and you opened it to scan the lines.

“A dinner party tonight?” you muttered, trying to remember whether you had ever given a promise like that but you couldn’t quite figure it out. You frowned slightly and lowered the invitation, then looked up at her.

“Is Benedict home?”

“Yes ma’am, at his studio.”

You nibbled on your lip and thought for a moment, then pushed yourself off the bed and grabbed your dressing gown. You put it on and threw your shoulders back, then left your room to make your way down the hallway. Your heartbeat was so fast that you had to take a deep breath and scold yourself in your head before you reached the open door of his studio. For a second, you just let yourself take in his handsome form while he worked on the canvas, your heart clenching in your chest and you swallowed thickly, then knocked on the doorframe before you could change your mind.

His head whirled around immediately and a painful light flashed in his blue gaze as soon as his eyes fell on you, but it lasted less than a second before he pulled himself together.

“Yes?”

You blinked a couple of times and forced yourself to snap out of it, then held up the invitation in your hand.

“I didn’t mean to disturb,” you said drily. “But Margery sent a letter about a dinner party tonight and apparently we’re attending?”

He closed his eyes for a moment and let out a breath, running a hand over his face.

“I told her we would, before…” he trailed off and you raised your brows.

Oh.

The night of the party.

“Right,” you said. “Okay.”

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“It’d be rude,” you replied. “It’s alright. At 8 she says?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

A silence fell upon the room and you licked your lips, then took a deep breath.

“Then should we—”

“We don’t really need to talk to each other,” he said calmly and your head shot up, that bitter taste appearing in your throat again before you nodded your head.

“Sure,” you said, your tone completely stoic. “Agreed. I was just going to ask whether we should still act all…you know. When we’re with other people.”

“Lovesick?” he suggested and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Whatever it is.”

He scoffed a stiff chuckle.

“I don’t think it’s worth the effort at this point,” he said. “I mean I don’t really care what anyone else thinks, and I already know how you feel, so…The rest doesn’t matter anyway.”

You could feel the burning at the back of your eyes before you blinked fast a couple of times to stop the tears before they could reach your eyes.

“Uh huh,” you ended up saying, folding the paper just so that you could do something with your hands. “Yeah.”

“Did you want to?”

“No,” you said almost too fast. “No, it’s a relief to hear that we won’t do that anymore actually.”

A bitter smile curled his lips.

“I’m sure it is,” he rasped out and you cleared your throat, biting at your tongue to focus on anything other than that pang in your chest.

“Great,” you managed to say. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

“Alright,” he said, his gaze still on you. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” you muttered more to yourself before you turned around and walked away, your eyes still burning. You entered your room, scrunching up the invitation in your hand and Paula turned to you.

“Shall I pick a dress for tonight then?”

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, then smiled at her.

“That sounds good,” you rasped out. “Thank you.”

The carriage ride to Lady Margery’s house was very quiet, but tense. Unlike the other times, this silence between you and Benedict didn’t possess any kind of peace, it just made you feel like you were about to walk on the edge of a sword throughout the night.

When you and Benedict walked in, most of the other guests were already there in the drawing room and Margery quickly made her way to you as soon as she saw you.

“Oh welcome!” she said, kissing you on the cheek before turning to smile at Benedict. “You’ve made it! Hello Benedict.”

“Hello Margery,” Benedict said, making you pull your brows together at the lack of honorifics but Margery didn’t seem to mind it at all, on the contrary it made her smile widen, making your heart skip a beat.

“We were just about to go to the dining room, almost everyone is here except Henry and Gordon,” she said. “But Lucy says they will probably be late. Anyway, Y/N you should’ve been at the party, you missed out on such a fun night!”

You raised your brows and nodded.

“So I’ve heard,” you said. “Perhaps the next time.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” she said airily and turned to Benedict. “And how about you, Mr. Bridgerton? It took me a day to sober up for good, I’m guessing it took you a bit longer than that?”

Dear God, you couldn’t do this, not tonight.

You turned your head and thankfully caught the sight of Felix, so you cleared your throat.

“Excuse me,” you muttered and walked away from them to Felix who gave you a bright smile.

“Hello there!” he said. “It’s been a while.”

“Mm hm, you have been quite busy with my brother-in-law,” you joked half-heartedly and he looked down with a smile, then raised his glances.

“He’s amazing.”

“You only think that because you have never seen him hungry, I suppose,” you deadpanned, taking a look at the other couple in the drawing room and Felix glanced at you, tilting his head.

“Is everything alright?”

“What?” you asked, turning to him. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly. “It’s just that, you’re glaring at people again.”

“I always glare at people, it’s a part of my charm.”

“Not lately—” he started but was cut off when you heard Lucy’s voice.

“Did you two have a fight?”

You looked over your shoulder, then turned to see her better. “Hello to you too, and what?”

“You and Benedict?”

“…What makes you say that?” you asked, your heart skipping a beat and she shrugged.

“You’re not near each other for once?”

“We don’t have to be in each other’s orbit all the time,” you said and Lucy and Felix exchanged glances.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Is this why you weren’t at the party?”

“Lucy…”

“What?” she asked, feigning innocence. “I’m curious by nature, you know that.”

“Everyone?” Margery called out. “Time for dinner, please follow me to the dining room.”

You, Felix and Lucy followed the only other couple to the dining room and when you entered the dining room to take your seat, Benedict pulled your chair for you. You offered him a small smile, then took your seat and he sat down next to you while the others took their seats.

As the footmen began to serve the soup, one of the guests –you recognized him as one of Benedict’s friends, Lord Thomas Bousfield– turned to Lucy.

“So when exactly can we expect the next party?”

“When I sober up for good,” Lucy replied with a laugh and Margery tilted her head.

“I know how you feel,” she said. “I might throw the next party Lord Bousfield, but only if you promise you will be grace the art room with your presence.”

Oh, she could remember the honorifics just fine when it was other people then.

Lord Bousfield held up his hands. “No promises.”

“Oh come on!”

“You have your promising artist there,” Lord Bousfield motioned at Benedict. “Say that to him instead of me.”

“I will make him, no worries,” Lucy said. “Or I’ll ask Henry to.”

“There is no need to make him, his inspiration sits right beside him,” Felix said and you and Benedict exchanged glances but before either of you could say anything, Henry entered the dining room.

“Our biggest apologies!” he said and went to kiss Margery’s hand as another man entered the room after him.

Ah, this had to be the infamous Lord Gordon Easton, Benedict’s hero in art.

He was older than Henry, judging by the grays in his hair and neatly trimmed beard, and handsome by anyone’s standards. He had an air of calm charisma that seemed to surround him and even you could tell he was aware of it, which made you think it probably came from the endless admiration of everyone around him.

An artist indeed.

His eyes fell on you and he raised his brows as if he was quite impressed, then he smiled at Benedict and made his way to Margery to kiss her hand as well.

“My lady,” he greeted her and Margery narrowed her eyes playfully.

“At last the guests of honor are here,” she said and motioned between them. “Which one of you should I blame then?”

“Me,” Henry said as he took his seat beside Lucy. “As much as I hate to admit, it was on me this time.”

“At least you’re honest,” Margery said and Lord Easton sat down as well.

“What did we miss?”

“Inspiration,” Lucy said and Henry grinned.

“Oh that’s impossible to miss, it’s everywhere.”

“Is it though?”

“It’s a cruel mistress,” Lord Easton said, “A fickle one too.”

“Hear hear,” the lady sitting beside Thomas said and he chuckled.

“As if inspiration is ever cruel to you Jane.”

“It has its moments,” she said with a smile while you sipped your drink. “And Felix?”

“I have no issues with inspiration, it’s my canvas that is cruel to me.”

“You will get there,” Lucy assured him. “It just takes time.”

“And patience,” Henry added. “Which is something you must learn, Felix.”

“I’m trying.”

“How about you Ben?” Lord Easton asked, “What does our promising young artist think?”

Benedict snapped out of his thoughts and cleared his throat.

“About what?” he asked and Margery let out a laugh.

“Are you alright Benedict?”

“Sure,” he said, taking a sip of his wine. “Zoned out for a moment. What are we talking about?”

“How hard it can be to capture the inspiration,” Henry said. “Do you think the same?”

Benedict shrugged his shoulders.

“Sort of,” he said. “I mean it is rather difficult to get inspiration when my life is perfect, so I just create issues for myself and make huge life decisions just to capture it, nothing more.”

You raised your brows, an irritated chuckle spilling from your lips as you dragged your tongue over your teeth, swirling the wine in your glass.

“Y/N disagrees,” Margery teased and you shook your head.

“Not at all,” you said before turning to see Benedict better. “A rather interesting idea, how did you come up with it?”

“I’ve had a good teacher,” Benedict stated, his blue gaze locking in yours and you could swear you could hear the crackles of lightning between you, tension almost palpable.

“Sounds like a brutally honest one,” you pointed out and Benedict tilted his head.

“Brutal yes, but honest?” he asked. “Debatable.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I don’t think honesty is up for debate, you are either honest or not.”

“Is everything alright between you two?” Henry asked while Lucy shook her head, and both you and Benedict turned to him.

“Sure.”

“Of course,” you said at the same time and you sipped your drink, ignoring the curiosity etched in Lord Easton’s face.

“Well then,” Margery raised her glass slightly. “To inspiration. May it be gentle with all the artists but especially the ones at this table.”

After the dinner, you excused yourself to get some fresh air in the garden while Margery took everyone else to the art gallery at the first floor so that they could see the newest paintings she purchased from all over the world. The cool air on your face did nothing to soothe the slight headache making its way to your temples and you sat down in the gazebo, then leaned your head back, stealing a look at the flowers around you.

Of course Margery’s garden looked perfect.

Of course.

You heaved a sigh and leaned your head back, the moonlight falling on you. You fixed your gaze on the starry sky before you followed the familiar shape with your eyes, a scoff escaping from your lips.

Andromeda.

The footsteps coming closer made you turn your gaze back to the garden and you raised your brows as you saw the figure.

“Lord Easton.”

He offered you a small smile and bowed his head.

“Mrs. Bridgerton,” he greeted you back. “Benedict’s infamous beauty.”  

You arched a brow.

“I’m not anyone’s anything,” you corrected him and he nodded.

“My apologies,” he said. “May I join you, Mrs. Bridgerton?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Why?”

“It’s not every day I’m in the presence of a muse.”

“You’re still not.”

“Oh I disagree,” he said. “I’ve met many people who want to be artists and I’ve also met many people who they saw as their muse, but you two? A promising artist with actual talent and a muse with intriguing beauty? That’s rarer than you’d think. Once in a blue moon, as one would say.”

If it were anyone else you would have thought he was just throwing you compliments, but somehow you knew he was not. Perhaps because of his matter-of-fact tone, perhaps because you knew he was widely successful and famous therefore he had no need for compliments to gain someone’s interest, but you just knew he was not interested in you in a traditional manner, in an affair or not.

There was intrigue in his eyes rather than desire.

He took out a cigarette to light it, and offered one to you but you shook your head.

“No thank you.”

“Of course,” he said and huffed out the smoke. “So how did he break your heart?”

Your head snapped up and you blinked a couple of times. “Pardon?”

“One cannot be an artist without observation as their second nature,” he said. “And observation is a part of inspiration as many artists throughout the history agree. So? How did he break your heart?”

Your jaw clenched, yet you kept your gaze on him in complete silence.

“I would ask how you broke his heart,” he said. “But I don’t think I will get an answer to that question.”

“And you think you will get an answer to the other one?” you asked back and he chuckled.

“Perhaps,” he said. “So how did he?”

You watched him quietly for a couple of seconds, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Lord Easton—”

“Gordon, please,” he told you, waving a hand in the air and you clicked your tongue.

“I’m not planning on getting that familiar with you,” you pointed out. “And I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No?”

“Not at all.”

“No heartbreak?”

“Impossible,” you stated. “I don’t have a heart.”

“Ah,” he said, then nodded. “I see.”

“You don’t sound convinced,” you said and he took a drag of his cigarette.

“Call it experience.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be a hedonist?” you asked. “I remember Margery saying something along those lines.”

“I am,” he said. “But I’ve had my fair share of wounds of heart.”

You let out a small laugh. “Is that not an occupational hazard in your line of work?”

An amused smile curled his lips and he nodded.

“It is,” he said. “As it happens, it’s also an occupational hazard in Benedict’s line of work.”

That was enough to make any trace of a smile disappear from your face and you crossed your arms.

“Sounds like you should be talking to Benedict, not me,” you said. “You’re both artists after all.”

He paused for a moment.

“You know he will be a big name in the art world right?”

You nodded your head. “I’m heartless, not blind.”

He snorted a laugh. “I doubt you’re heartless, Mrs. Bridgerton.”

“Why?”

He shrugged his shoulders.

“Because there’s a fire behind your eyes,” he said. “That you share with him. That one doesn’t come alive unless your heart is involved. Trust me, it takes a special kind of pain to lure it out.”

“And the cure?”

“The poison is the antidote.”

“Love?” you spat. “I’d rather not take the antidote then.”

He heaved a sigh.

“Judging by what I’ve seen just now at dinner?” he said. “I’d say it’s already in your system.”

You licked your lips, then shook your head.

“Nah,” you said. “It’s a trick.”

“Love?”

“Yeah, it’s yet another luxury only artists can afford to dwell on,” you pointed out. “Nothing more. It’s not my—it’s not my issue.”

“No?”

You shrugged your shoulders, your throat getting tighter.

“I never asked Benedict to love me,” you said as if daring him to disagree and he raised his brows.

“I see,” he said. “Did he ask you to love him then?”

You pulled back, swallowing thickly and he offered you a small smile, then stubbed his cigarette.

“Let me give you a secret, Mrs. Bridgerton,” he said. “One that no one around you ever told you. You two would have led much easier lives if you married other people.”

You pulled your brows together.

“What?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Odds are, you and he would have had a normal life, a couple of kids along the way and a tolerable companionship at best with others if you hadn’t met each other. Granted something was always going to be missing, but most people learn to look the other way whenever that realization dawns on them. But… dear God, you two married each other.”

You stared at him and he shook his head slightly.

“It is understandable why you’re fighting tooth and nail,” he said. “This kind of love is something else, and of course it terrifies you. The person who holds the key to your true happiness is the same person who can give you the worst pain you could ever imagine.”

You tried to ignore how badly your eyes were burning.

“And that’s what all artists crave?” you asked. “I thought it was supposed to be soft and pleasant.”

He shot you a knowing smile.

“Show me one artist who claimed love is soft and pleasant.”

You frowned at him in silence, trying to wrap your head around what he said.

“You still think the storm and the shelter are separate things here,” he said and stood up. “They’re not. Benedict knows it, and that’s why it will be much easier for him than it will be for you.”

You blinked back the tears as he bowed his head slightly.

“Good luck, Mrs. Bridgerton,” he said. “Muse or not, I’d say you’re going to need it.”

With that, he walked away from you, leaving you there alone. You clenched your teeth and blinked back the tears, then let out a shaky breath.

“Yeah,” you muttered. “I’m going to need it for sure.”

Chapter Text

 Any married couple would tell you that fights were normal in a marriage.

You knew that, but this whole silence was beginning to feel more and more like the end of the said marriage.

You and Benedict hadn’t talked to each other since the night of the dinner party at Lady Margery’s house, and you and Benedict were getting quite good at sharing the house without even talking about it. You wouldn’t have known he was actually staying in the house if you hadn’t paid attention to the occasional sounds of door closing and the footsteps.

You didn’t know when you had learned to recognize him from his footsteps alone, but apparently it had happened somewhere along the line.

You knew Benedict had left an hour ago because you had seen him pass through the garden from the window of the library. You had been so immersed in your book that you didn’t even notice the familiar carriage pulling in front of the house until you heard Teddy’s voice ringing through the hallway.

“Hello?"

You turned your head and put your book down, then rushed out of the library to go downstairs.

“Teddy?” you asked as he ran to you, clutching a couple of flowers in his arms and you let out a laugh, then hugged him.

“Hello there,” you said and smiled at your aunt as you saw her at the end of the hallway. “And hello auntie.”

“Hello my dearest,” she said, coming to kiss your cheek. “We figured we could pay you a quick visit on our way to the pastry shop.”

“I’m glad you did,” you said and took the flowers from Teddy. “These are beautiful Teddy, thank you!”

“They’re from your garden,” he said helpfully and you nodded your head.

“Mm hm, I recognized them,” you said and held his hand so that you all could go to the drawing room. “Pastry shop then?”

“Yes and then we will go to the park,” your aunt said. “So that I can meet my friends and Teddy can play with his friends.”

“The weather is pretty nice,” you mused and turned to your maid. “Paula, could you bring some lemonade and biscuits please? Thank you.”

“Of course ma’am,” she said and left the room, and you hugged Teddy sideways as he sat beside you.

“How is uncle?” you asked your aunt and she heaved a sigh.

“He is alright.”

“Any um…” you trailed off and stole a look at Teddy before clearing your throat. “Any letters?”

“None,” she said with a smile. “I told you, there’s no need to be worried.”

“Seems to be engraved in me by now.”

A maid walked in, carrying a tray and made her way to you to place three glasses of lemonade as well as three plates of biscuits on the coffee table. You thanked her as Teddy grabbed his glass, then took a huge sip.

“Is Benedict home?” he looked up at you and you heaved a sigh, then shook your head.

“No my sweet, he left an hour ago.”

“When can I make more sculptures?” he asked and you tried to smile.

“Whenever you want,” you said. “Is it alright if I help you though?”

“Not Benedict?” he asked, his brows furrowing slightly. “But he knows so much about art.”

You nodded your head.

“Benedict has been working on a new painting lately,” you whispered as if giving him a secret. “He’s a bit busy but we can do it together?”

He thought for a moment, then his head whipped up.

“I could teach you!” he said as if the thought just hit him and you let out a laugh.

“Exactly!” you said, “It would be fun!”

“Benedict is working on a new painting?” your aunt asked and you looked up at her, then nodded your head.

“Yeah,” you said. “He’s been…he’s been busy.”

She raised her brows, her eyes searching your face as if she wanted to see whether you were telling the truth but the gong of the clock on the wall made her turn her head.

“Oh I’m going to be late,” she said and got up from her chair with you following her suit. “We’d better go, come on Teddy.”

“Alright,” Teddy pushed the biscuit into his mouth, making you bite down a smile and he came to hug you.

“I’ll see you later,” you said, pressing a kiss on top of his head before you hugged your aunt. She hugged you back, then pulled back to look at you better.

“My dear?”

“Hm?”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Your stomach did a painful flip but you managed to offer her a small smile.

“Of course,” you assured her. “I’m fine.”

She heaved a sigh and kissed your cheek.

“We’re having tea as soon as possible.”

“Works for me,” you said and watched her and Teddy walk out of the drawing room to make their way downstairs. Your smile dropped and you let out a breath, then sat back down on the sofa again.

“Great,” you muttered to yourself. “Today should be fun.”

Towards the afternoon, Lottie had sent you a note, asking you to join her for a picnic but you had written back, saying you weren’t feeling your best. It wasn’t a lie at all, you really didn’t want to see anyone, instead all you wanted was just burying yourself into the covers and ignore the outside world.

But apparently you wouldn’t be so lucky.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice the approaching footsteps while you laid on the sofa, your gaze fixed on the fireplace until someone cleared their throat by the door, making your head whip up.

“Josie?” you asked and pushed yourself up off the sofa to stand up. “What are you doing here?”

“Came to see how you were, obviously,” she said and entered the drawing room. “Not well as I can tell.”

You rolled your eyes. “Did auntie talk to you?”

“No, why?” she asked. “Should she have?”

“No, it’s just—” you motioned vaguely at outside. “She came by for a visit today with Teddy.”

“And?”

“And nothing,” you said. “She seemed worried about me for some reason.”

“Could the reason be that you were staring into nothing like a corpse by any chance?” she asked you and you shot her a look.

“I was just in deep thought, don’t dramatize it.”

She frowned slightly, then shook her head.

“Anyway,” she said and went to the armchair to sit down. “Has there been any other letters sent from hell and its biggest demon?”

“Auntie says no,” you muttered, pressing your palms into your eyes before lowering your hands. “But I don’t know. I’ll have to talk to uncle to make sure.”

Josie hummed.

“What about you?” you asked. “How have you been?”

“I’m fine,” she said without so much as any hesitation and you tilted your head.

“Josie.”

“What?”

“Come on,” you said. “Don’t do that to me at the very least.”

“I really am fine,” she said. “I’m married now, he cannot do anything to me. The days he would threaten me with either selling me to a brothel or sending me to the madhouse are gone.”

A shiver ran down your spine. “But if they speak to anyone—”

“Andrew is a respected lord who inherited his respectful father’s title and wealth,” she said. “Father is a no one. There’s nothing he could say that the ton would believe over our word.”

You started pacing in the room.

“I suppose,” you said. “But even if they do come here, we’re not telling Teddy.”

Josie shook her head fervently. “Of course not. He will not know or talk to them.”

You could feel the tension coming back to your muscles as the throbbing in your wrist returned, and you rubbed at it, gritting your teeth.

“Why doesn’t he just die?” you spat. “He was coughing like crazy when uncle took me and Teddy in years ago, he spends most of his days drunk, why doesn’t it just get to him already?”

“Trust me, I’m looking forward to that day,” Josie said. “I’ll celebrate it.”

“If he so much as tries to get Teddy like he said in that letter—”

“He’s not going to do that,” Josie said. “None of us will let him.”

You massaged your temples and huffed out a breath.

“What did Benedict say?” she asked you and you turned to look at her, then pursed your lips.

“That’s not important right now.”

Josie sat up straighter.

“What?” she asked. “Clover you have told him, haven’t you?”

“No because I don’t need to,” you said. “I can handle it if they come here.”

Josie gawked at you in complete silence, then a dry laughter spilled from her lips.

“You’re jesting,” she said. “Surely you are jesting.”

“Why would I tell him?”

“Why would you not tell him?” she hissed at you, jumping on her feet. “What are you going to do if father decides to come here? And the staff hasn’t been told—”

“I’ll tell them.”

“And if he walks up to Benedict on the street?”

“I doubt father even knows I’m married,” you said. “There’s no reason for Benedict to—”

“There’s every reason for him to know!” she said. “If you don’t want to give him the details, fine! But you need to tell him especially if they decide to come here, you know what father is like—”

“I can handle father.”

Josie threw her hands up in exasperation. “Have you gone insane?!”

“I don’t need Benedict’s help,” you said tersely, shrugging your shoulders and Josie heaved an impatient sigh.

“If you’re doing this because you two had a small lover’s spat…”

You narrowed your eyes at her. “Josie.”

“You had a fight, is that it?”

“That’s not important.”

“It is important if you’re going to make stupid choices because of it!” she snapped. “If it were any other time, you know I wouldn’t push you to do anything but if mother and father are in fact coming here, you’re going to need all the support you can get.”

You scoffed. “Sure, let me just go and cry to Benedict because what? Father is coming here?”

Josie raised her brows. “How’s your wrist?”

The anger rushed through you so fast that you didn’t even have the chance to remind yourself it wasn’t Josie you were angry at, just the memory itself and how it managed to make you feel helpless every single time.

Not to mention, your and Josie’s fights would always be fiery, ever since you two were little.

“Fuck you, I’m not going to listen to this,” you growled and Josie’s gaze turned into a glare as you walked past her toward the door.

“No?” she asked, making you whirl around on your heels before you got to the door. “If you don’t want people to ask you questions, maybe don’t act like a little girl throwing a tantrum.”

“I’m not!”

“By keeping the one person who you’re actually close to in the dark?” she snapped back. “The one person who can actually protect you as far as the ton and the law are concerned? For God’s sake, you’re married—”

“It’s a sham, Josie!” the words left your lips before you had the chance to stop them. “Wake up, will you? It’s a sham, it’s not real! None of this is!”

That got her to stop talking and if you weren’t so exhausted by the nervousness and anger rushing through you for days now, you would have stopped talking as well but you were nearly hysterical at this point.

“We’re not in love,” you said, breathing fast. “The only reason why we got married is because people saw us together, alright? He knows it, I know it, even goddamn Anthony knows it! And everyone around us is so gullible that they believed we were in love because what? We pretended to be just to spare their feelings? Honestly Josie, I’d expect you of all people to be smarter than that—”

“What?”

The different voice that reached into the room came from behind you from the door and you turned around to see Lottie staring at you in shock. Your breath got caught in your throat and you swallowed thickly.

“Lottie…”

“Your butler let me in, I wanted to see if you were alright after your note but—I—” she stammered, tears rushing to her eyes. “You both…you all lied to me? All this time?”

“No,” you said quickly. “No it’s just complicated, I didn’t mean—”

“Excuse me,” she said and turned around to rush downstairs, a curse leaving your lips before you rushed after her.

“Lottie- Charlotte!” you called out as she stepped outside with you following her. “Please, can we just talk?”

“That rumor Lady Whistledown mentioned,” she said, turning to look at you better. “That was true?”

You ran a hand over your face. “It’s not exactly—”

“Was it true?” she insisted and you heaved a sigh.

“Things between me and Benedict are complicated.”

“But you didn’t get married because of love?” she asked. “You got married because someone saw you two together, unchaperoned?”

“…You could say that,” you admitted after a beat and shook your head. “I know how it sounds, but we didn’t want to upset you—”

“Thank you so much for that,” she said with a sad laugh and you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“Lottie,” you said, following her as she walked to her carriage. “I’m sorry, I really am. I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

She looked at you for a moment, then swallowed thickly.

“I’d say you didn’t want me to find out in any way,” she muttered and got in the carriage before you could say anything else, then the coachman drove away, leaving you there.

You groaned, that heaviness in your heart getting even worse as you watched her carriage disappear into the road and dug your fingernails into your palms before you looked up at the sky and let out a scream, the birds in the nearest tree flying away. You huffed out a breath, then turned around to see Josie leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed, and her brows raised.

“I’m glad you got it off your chest I guess,” she said. “Now, want to tell me what the fuck that was about?”

It took you almost an hour to fill her in on the details of everything that had happened. Even if you still felt incredibly bad for how Lottie had found out, -and how you had kept it from Josie- it still felt sort of relieving to actually share it with someone. Josie sat beside you on the stairs that whole time and it was only when you had finished telling her everything that she heaved a deep sigh, leaning back on her elbows.

“Fuck.”

“Mm hm,” you said. “Sounds about right.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You scoffed a laugh. “Look me in the eye and tell me you would have let me marry him if you knew why that wedding was happening.”

“Of course I wouldn’t have let you!” she said. “That’s exactly why you should have told me!”

“And then?” you asked. “You know how the ton would have been like.”

“Who cares about those idiots?”

“A scandal would have affected uncle and auntie as well, Josie.”

“Scandal or not, I think uncle and auntie would want you to be happy.”

“I am—it’s not…” you massaged your temples for what felt like the hundredth time today. “It’s complicated.”

“It really isn’t,” she said. “If he forced your hand—”

“He didn’t force my hand,” you cut her off. “No more than I forced his hand at least. I wanted to kiss him, he wanted to kiss me…It’s only because people saw us together that it got to this.”

“And you’re sure he didn’t plan this?”

“I know he didn’t,” you said. “Trust me, I’d love to be able to blame someone but Benedict is not to blame.”

“Neither are you.”

You clicked your tongue.

“I don’t know about that,” you said. “I could’ve walked away.”

“So could he,” she said and you heaved a sigh, then shrugged your shoulders.

“I don’t know,” you repeated, running a hand over your face. “God, it feels like I haven’t slept in years.”

Josie bit at her lip, deep in thought before she turned to you.

“Clover?”

“Hm?”

“Technically speaking, this marriage is invalid,” she said. “No consummation.”

“So?”

“Would he apply for an annulment?”

Your heart dropped to your stomach but you frowned, shaking your head.

“I don’t think so.”

“Would you?”

“I’m not going to apply for annulment,” you brushed her off and she sat up straighter.

“Then we could leave whenever you want, you can come with me and Andrew and Bess—”

“I’m not going to do that Josie,” you said and she scoffed a laugh.

“Why not?” she asked. “If you’re worried about a scandal…”

“That’s not why,” you told her. “Not really.”

“Does it have something to do with the fact that you kissed him?” she asked and you shot her a look.

“Don’t,” you said. “Seriously. It was just desire and I’m pretty sure anything he may have felt for me is long gone after that fight.”

“And yet you want to stay for some reason because you want to make yourself suffer?”

You heaved a sigh.

“No I—I’ll think about it,” you lied to her. “After this whole mess is over.”

“Alright,” she said and stood up. “I’d better go but are you going to be okay?”

“Sure thing,” you said, waving a hand in the air before standing up as well. She pulled you into a hug, then kissed your cheek.

“I’ll kill you if you hide things from me again,” she said, drawing a chuckle out of you before she walked to get in the carriage. You lingered there for a moment as the carriage drove away and you shook your head slightly, then walked back into the house.

You were still so tense that you couldn’t even bring yourself to have dinner even if you would be all by yourself. Benedict was still outside, so even though you knew there was no way you could get a wink of sleep, you still went to your bedroom. The sky was dark already, your room only illuminated by the moonlight and the flames in the fireplace. You took out the pins in your hair, then massaged your scalp and heaved a sigh before putting the flowers Teddy and your aunt had brought you on the windowsill so that you could air dry them, but as soon as you did, the carriage by the stone road caught your attention, making you frown.

Ah.

That had to be Benedict.

You had just placed all of the flowers when the knock on the door reached you and you looked over your shoulder.

“Come in?”

Benedict opened the door and stepped inside, and you frowned at just how rigid his whole body looked.

“Can we talk?”

“About?” you asked and he took a deep breath as if reminding himself to be calm.

“Did you do it on purpose?”

“You might want to—” you started but then the idea hit you, making you stop for a moment. “Ah. Lottie?”

“Yeah,” he said. “So did you?”

You gawked at him and scoffed a bitter chuckle. “Why would I do it on purpose, exactly?”

“Because you’re angry at me for some reason?”

You could feel the anger rushing through your system so you gritted your teeth.

“Contrary to what you seem to believe, I don’t go behind people’s backs when I’m angry at them.”

He raised his brows, disbelief etched in his features.

“Sure,” he said. “So it was what, a coincidence?”

“Well you seem to have all the answers,” you bit back. “I’m sure you can answer that on your own as well.”

“Y/N.”

“What?”

“Why would you tell Charlie that?” he insisted. “She’s angry at me and Anthony because apparently you decided to tell her he knew as well.”

“Oh well that’s devastating,” you deadpanned. “Because I spend all my days trying to make sure everything I do makes Anthony’s life easier—obviously I didn’t know she was here! She’s angry at me too, or has it escaped your notice?”

“Then how did she—”

“Because she was apparently there when I told Josie, but I didn’t know.”

Benedict stared at you. “Wait, Josie knows as well?”

“Lapse in judgement, we were having an argument,” you said and Benedict blinked a couple of times.

“I thought we agreed we would keep it to ourselves,” he said. “We told everyone—”

“I have more to lose than you if it gets out, Benedict!” you told him. “You don’t have to remind me what I already know!”

He took a deep breath as if reminding himself to be calm.

“We’re married,” he said, motioning between you two. “We need to be on the same page on things like these.”

“Oh now you remember we’re married?” you asked with a bitter laugh. “You can act like a bachelor and spend a whole night partying and doing God knows what without so much as letting me know—”

“I did let you know!”

Your voice rose before you had a chance to stop it; “Oh sorry, how nice of you to invite me to the party as a second thought!”

“I already told you nothing happened!”

“That’s not the point!” you snapped back, “The point is that you told me we would talk and we didn’t because you were too busy having fun at a party!”

Benedict shook his head. “You told me it wasn’t important!”

“Because you—” you started but your body automatically flinched back when Benedict’s hand shot up to run it through his hair, a gesture you had seen him do over and over again but in the heat of the argument, it was enough to make the rest of your sentence get lost in your throat.