#Sir Henry Granville

[chaoskilled-dinosaurs-darling]

My mum fully thought Benedict had a gay storyline in season 1 and honestly I agree even if he didn’t technically kiss the dude

[dragon-kazansky]

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

Benedict bumps into you, quite literally, at a ball while trying to escape his mother's attempts to find him a partner. You decide to humour him with a dance, not realising just how entwined you would become with him. It seems the universe will find every excuse to push you and Benedict together, no matter how much you fight it.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Season one

Chapter Nine - Late night scandals

♡♡♡

"What do you think Bridgerton?"

Benedict turns around to find the artist he had accidentally offended at the gallery the other night.

"This one more to your liking?"

"Mr. Granville--" Benedict raises from his chair to approach the man.

"Perhaps they should take it over to Somerset House so it can be skyed right next to mine."

"I believe I owe you an apology, sir." Benedict says, feeling rather embarrassed.

"Unnecessary. I actually quite enjoy the eloquent stings of your critique. So?" He gestures back to the painting on the wall.

"A touch morose for my tastes," Benedict says.

Henry points to the next one.

"A tragedy. The hound deserved better," Benedict comments.

Granville laughs. "Where is yours?"

"My..."

"Your work," Granville clarifies. "Are you tell me you're not an artist yourself?"

"Well, I-- I suppose sometimes I like to... Well, I mean, I almost--"

"I believe 'yes' and 'thank you' are the words you seek. But either way, you should come by my studio." Mr Granville holds out a small card to Benedict, who accepts it. "The pieces I do for myself are there, and I think you will find my real work far less, um... Oh, how did you put it? 'Cold and lacking inner life?'"

Benedict scrunched up his face as he nodded, still burning with embarrassment. "I shall never live that down, shall I?"

Mr Granville leaves.

Benedict returns to his table where he had been absentmindedly doodling. Eyes. He was sketching out a pair of eyes. Pretty ones. From memory.

He sighs and closes the sketchbook.

♡♡♡

As you sit in the drawing room of the Bridgerton house, as invited by Violet, you discover that she had no idea about the boxing match, or that Daphne had been there.

You keep your eyes focused on the latest Whistledown paper, though you had stopped reading it.

Daphne was playing the piano while her mother interrogated her.

"A boxing match is no place for any young lady." Violet sighs.

"Is it a place for a prince? Was he at today's match, sister?" Hyacinth asks.

"He certainly was."

"It is a loathsome and barbarous form of entertainment," Violet was very displeased.

That was when Daphne took the opportunity to mention you had gone as well, which had Violet looking at you.

"You too?"

You glare softly at Daphne, who gives you a smug little look. Crafty one, she is.

"Anthony invited me," you admit.

Violet looked terribly ill all of a sudden. You were sure she would being this up with her eldest son at some point.

"What about the duke?" Hyacinth asks.

"What about the duke?" Both Violet and Daphne ask at the same time. You eye Daphne curiously from your seat.

"Was he also present?" Hyacinth asked, less enthusiastic now.

"I do not know," Daphne says. "If the duke was there, I did not see him."

Hyacinth leaves the piano to go see what Eloise is up to. She had been scribbling away in her book since you arrived.

You put the Whistledown column down and rose from your seat to seek entertainment near the window. Watching the street was surely more entertainment than listening in on that conversation.

Anthony enters the room and greets both his mother and his sister. You turn and he greets you too.

"Did you truly take your sister to a boxing match?" Violet hounds him.

"Your admonishment will have to wait. I have news," he cuts her lecture short. "Prince Friedrich has asked for my permission to propose." He looks at Daphne.

She stops playing. "So soon?"

"Well, what did you tell him?" Violet asks.

"That I know better than to answer for my sister. I have no objections to the man. People speak well of him. Whatever you decide, Daph, you shall have my support."

You look at Daphne quietly.

"I... uh... I..." She doesn't know what to say.

"You need not decide now," Violet tells her. "You certainly have no known him long."

"Let me know when you have an answer, and I shall convey it." Anthony says to his sister.

"Indeed." Daphne looks at him.

Anthony leaves as quickly as he came in. It was clear Daphne needed time to think.

♡♡♡

When Daphne had pleaded with you to attend the next ball with her, you couldn't say no. There was a sadness to her gaze, and you wondered from where it had risen.

Something had happened between her and the duke, and she had been off kilter ever since.

The ball, like all had been so far, was wonderful. The theme was a little more out there this time, but everyone was behaving quite perfectly.

You were standing with Daphne as she scanned the crowd. Exactly who she was looking for, you weren't quite certain. You would suggest the prince on the account that the duke was apparently leaving London tonight.

The prince could be seen across the room. He was in conversation with someone. You glance toward Daphne, but your gaze shifts as Cressida Cowper comes over. You give Daphne a gentle nudge.

"Daphne." Cressida chuckles. "You look beautiful, as always."

"Thank you, Cressida," Daphne says politely.

"You could have chosen anyone," Cressida says. "You have gentlemen lined up to pay you tribute. Yet you did not hesitate to steal my chance for happiness away, did you? I knew the marriage market would make rivals of us, but I never thought youcapable of being my enemy."

"The man made his choice, Cressida. What did you expect me to do?" Daphne asks.

Daphne walks off in the direction of the prince. You look at Cressida and then walk off in the other direction.

There is nothing you could ever say to her.

You begin to walk alongside the dance floor, watching the couples dance. A hand comes into view, and you turn to see a friendly looking young man smiling at you.

"May I have this dance?"

You take a moment to gather yourself. You had hoped one of the Bridgerton boys would be here to dance with you, but you supposed you couldn't rely on them every time.

"You may."

You go with him to dance.

It seemed Benedict wasn't here.

♡♡♡

Benedict was, in fact, making his way to the studio of Mr. Granville. He was intrigued by the artist.

He finds the address and knocks on the door. Henry Granville answers.

"Mr. Bridgerton."

Benedict stands there a little awkwardly.

"Come in, come in."

Granville lets him in. Benedict enters and follows him. He is led further inside and finds himself in a large room. A circle of easels presented around two nude models.

"I do not know what I was expecting, but it surely was not this." Benedict says.

"Oh, simply a gathering of like-minded souls." Henry tells him. "Here, let me show you what I've been working on."

Benedict is led further inside the studio. He passes a couple of painters discussing war so causally.

"What do you think?" Henry asks.

Benedict walks over and takes a look at the canvas.

"Hmm. It's a far cry from Somerset House, I must say."

"I shall take that a compliment."

They both chuckle.

"And I must say, I'm truly jealous. Is this your life?" Benedict asks.

"There are advantages to being the second-born." Henry tells him. "Heirs have the responsibility. Second sons have the fun."

They both chuckle again.

"So... why not go have some fun?" Henry gestures to the models. He's giving Benedict the chance to epress himself through art.

Benedict picks an easel and sits down.

♡♡♡

As you dance once again tonight, you spot Anthony standing off to the side. He's staring at the opera singer.

You hard heard whispers about him being infatuated with an opera singer, but had no idea if there lay any truth to them.

You continue dancing with your partner.

Benedict was still a no-show tonight, which you found to be rather disappointing. You had been looking forward to another evening of his little quips and teasing.

When the dance ends, you curtsy to your partner and head in the direction of Anthony and Violet. Lady Bridgerton had tries to introduce her son to a rather pretty young lady, but he showed no interest.

"Shall we dance, Lord Bridgerton?" You ask, looking at Anthony.

He turns and looks at you, for half a second, thinking you were another lady his mother was intent on pushing on him.

"Yes, let's." He offers his arm, and you take it. Violet watches you both go. Even if he chose you, she would be pleased, but she knows her son will not take you as his wife. You're his friend who has come to rescue him from her for a while.

Violet downs a third glass of champagne.

"She is persistent," you say.

"Hm?"

"Your mother."

Anthony chuckles softly. "Yes. Quite."

"The opera singer..."

He looks at you.

"Nevermind. Its not my business."

Anthony's expression softens. "I was - am - found of her."

"Yes. I assumed as much."

Anthony sighs. "It's complicated.

You nod and say no more on the matter. Anthony spins you around elegantly.

"Is Benedict not here tonight?" You ask, twirling with him.

"Benedict? No." He gazes at you. "Why do you ask?"

"I just noticed his absence."

"Missing your dance partner?" He teases.

You chuckle. "Am I that obvious?"

He winks at you, and you shake your head with a smile. "I'm fond of you boys. I can't help it when I notice one of you is missing."

Anthony grins. "How lucky we are to have gained such a special friend such as you."

As Anthony gives you another turn around the floor, you spot Colin speaking with Penelope. You smile softly at the sight and then turn your attention back to the eldest brother.

At least you'll have one Bridgerton on your dance card tonight.

As the next dance begins, Anthony keeps your company longer. You're aware this may catch attention from others, especially Lady Whistledown should she be here, but none the less, you dance with him twice.

You soon see that Colin has left Penelope on the sidelines to dance with Miss Thompson, and you also find the prince talking to Daphne amidst their dance.

The dance ends, and you manage to catch sight of Daphne fleeing the ballroom.

Anthony bows, and you curtsy.

"Until next time." He nods his head at you. You smile and nod, taking your leave. You worry about Daphne and intend to go check on her, but you're stopped by another gentleman.

You sigh and realise you'll have to dance with him before you can flee again.

The dance feels like it drags on, and on, and on. You smile, you listen to your partner talk, but your mind is focused on Daphne. She did not look well when she fled.

When the dance ends, you spot Anthony leaving the ballroom. You waste no more time and follow him.

He heads outside. You follow.

"Anthony?"

He turns and looks at you. "Go back inside."

"What's the matter? What's happening?"

"Did you see him?" Anthony asks urgently.

"Who?"

"The duke."

"He is here?"

"He was, and now I can't find Daphne." You realise he's concerned about his sister.

You hear something further in the garden, and Anthony hurries off. You follow him, close on his heels.

What you find is not what you ever expected to see.

Simon and Daphne were not just kissing. His hands were all over her. Her dress had been pulled down. You cover your mouth, though you can not hide the gasp that escapes you.

Anthony runs at Simon.

"Bastard!"

Simon receives a strong punch to the face. He falls to the ground, and Anthony takes another swing. He punches him a third time and then stands beside his sister. You hurry to her other side and checks her over.

"Daphne..."

She is speechless. She has no words for you. They have been caught in a compromising position.

"You will marry her," Anthony declares.

"What?" Daphne looks at her brother.

"Immediately. We can only hope no one saw you take such liberties, and my sister is saved further mortification. You will marry her!"

Anthony is angry.

"Brother!"

"I cannot marry her," Simon says.

"You have defiled her innocence, and now you refuse her hand? I knew you were a rake, Hastings, I never thought you a villain."

"I cannot marry her," Simon states more firmly.

Daphne looks hurt.

"Then you leave me no choice. I must demand satisfaction."

"A duel? Anthony, you cannot--" Daphne begins.

"He dishonours you, sister." Anthony looks at her. "He dishonours you and me and the very Bridgerton name. I have misjudged you, indeed. You have duped us both, but I shall not see my sister pay for my own misdeeds. We will settle this as gentlemen."

"I understand," Simon agrees. "I shall see you at dawn."

"I do not understand," Daphne says softly. "You would rather die than marry me?"

You look at Simon quietly.

"I am truly sorry."

"We need to go, Daph. Before anyone should see us." Anthony says softly.

You reach out for her arm gently and pull her away, Anthony follows you both.

Daphne takes her brother's arm after he begs of you not to say a word about anything. You swear by it, looking him in the eye. Anthony thanks you.

You drift off from them as you enter the ballroom once again.

Anthony approaches Colin and tells him he is taking her home. He asks Colin to take care of their mother. You decide to step in and help. Anthony looks grateful.

Anthony and Daphne leave.

Colin looks at you, but you just smile softly at him and ask him to help you with Violet. He doesn't say anything about Daphne or Anthony.

Neither do you.

♡♡♡

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[michwritesstuff]

She’s Gonna Save Me (Bridgerton: Benedict Bridgerton)

this is my first ever bridgerton fic! i’ve had such a writer’s block and post grad has been so difficult but listening to music and reading other writers’ works has me feeling inspired! so enjoy my first story in months and first of the new year :)

pairing: female reader (she/her) x Benedict Bridgerton reader x Colin Bridgerton (platonic!)

summary: Benedict contemplates a life pursuing art and living outside the expectations of his family and society. Does he find a wife and settle down or live freely? What happens when he meets someone who can offer him the best of both worlds?

notes/warnings: mention of nudity, alcohol consumption, activities that can be witnessed at Sir Granville’s scandalous studio saoirees…

word count: 2.4k

As the second eldest Bridgerton boy, Benedict never found himself extremely pressured by the standards and expectations of society. Those responsibilities were entrusted upon his brother, Anthony, the Viscount.

Benedict reserved himself to a more romantic life, preoccupied by his love and interest for art.

Attending every event of the season was merely a ploy to keep his mother happy and distracted from the fact that he had no true intention of courting any ladies.

He would drink, laugh, and dance the season away without ever calling on anyone.

Benedict believed that this season wouldn’t be any different.

******

When you first agreed to join your family friends across the Atlantic in London, you didn’t expect that you would be taking part in the ton’s social season.

As the youngest daughter, your brothers married with children and sisters off tending to their new husbands, your father didn’t feel the need to arrange a marriage for social or monetary gain.

Your family was well off in the states, your parents often described as ‘free spirits.’ They had always impressed upon you the importance of appreciating the beauty around you and romanticizing life.

With your mother’s passing, you decided to stay at home with your father, choosing to enjoy a quiet life in the country studying English literature.

Staying with Sir Henry Granville was beyond exciting and allowed you to interact and mingle with the more eclectic members of British society.

You had lasted all but a week before you were called upon by a Miss Lady Danbury.

She had stressed the importance of participating in the social season and the impending judgment of the ton and Queen if you did not participate.

While you never cared much for the opinion of others, you didn’t fancy the idea of being ogled every time you ventured into town.

******

“I heard she was rejected by every suitor.”

“She’s so ugly and unpleasant, a dowry wouldn’t even be worth it.”

“Apparently she’s slightly deformed.”

You couldn’t begin to believe the rumors circulating about you, the American.

You swore that the descriptions were ripped out of a storybook, describing some gremlin crawling from the depths of the earth.

Men and women alike had no problem spreading stories about the young lady joining them for the season.

Worst of all, none of them had even seen you yet. The modiste had made personal house calls, as requested by Lady Danbury.

Now you stood, in front of the carriage, at the first ball of the season, your debut.

You followed behind Sir Henry and Mary Granville, head held high and eyes straight forward as you waded through the ballroom towards Lady Danbury and the Queen.

You heard the whispers and felt the stares as you stood before the queen.

With one leg behind the other and your arms laid at your side, you gently bent your knee and curtsied before her.

She gave you a once over before bowing her head back, a silent approval.

Moving out of the way, you stood at the edge of the dance floor as Lady Danbury approached.

“Miss y/l/n, I do hope you don’t mind that I have taken the liberty of securing you a few gentlemen to fill out your dance card.”

“I expect nothing less from you, Lady Danbury” you smiled back, a teasing tone in your voice.

Your sarcasm and apprehension towards the season had not gone unnoticed by Lady Danbury.

She quite admired your wit and sharp mind, and more than anything, enjoyed the challenge.

******

You were now on your 4th dance of the night; your feet were hurting, and you wanted nothing more than to be curled up with a book.

Fortunately, your current dance partner was not completely awful and was actually quite charming.

Colin Bridgerton.

You had met him once before, in passing, when Lady Danbury had brought you to meet his mother, Violet, and sister, Daphne.

 Apparently, Daphne had been named the Diamond of the season in her first season out on society and married a Duke.

His younger sister, Eloise, was preparing for her first season as well.

However, through your brief encounter with Eloise she did not seem as happy with the matter as her sister and mother were.

You had a feeling she would be a good person to befriend.

“Tell me about yourself Miss y/l/n” Colin inquired.

“Y/N,” you quickly corrected.

“Just Y/N is fine,” you smiled slightly.

“Well Y/N, how are you finding London and the beginning of the season?”

“London, well its quite beautiful. There is so much art, and history, and the architecture is amazing. Truly, I wouldn’t mind getting lost here. And well…this—” you paused, glancing around the ball at all the young women around you.

“May I be frank?” you asked, Colin’s eyebrows raising in surprise.

“Of course, Miss Y/N”

“I slightly detest all of this, my feet hurt, and I’ve been dancing for quite too long. Why would I want to marry someone I’ve met one time?”

Colin was slightly taken aback before grinning wildly.

“You remind me of my sister Eloise,” he stated.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, I quite liked her,” you grinned back.

As the dance ended you curtsied before Colin as he bowed before you.

“I hope you find the person you’re looking for Y/N, but I have a feeling you don’t need all of this to do so.”

You smiled widely and slightly nodded before following him off the dance floor.

“I’ll grab us a drink,” he said before walking away. Your eyes followed his back for a few seconds before scanning the room.

They quickly landed on two men whispering in the corner.

The slightly shorter one had massive sideburns and a quizzical look that seemed as if it must be permanently etched onto his face. The other man had a certain air about him.

Even from across the room his light-colored eyes had a shine in them.

Colin returned; you thanked him before looking to the corner again. This time the slightly taller one had caught your gaze and lifted his eyes to meet yours. You felt your face flush and quickly turned your head.

“Colin?”

“Yes?”

“Who are those two men in the corner?”

Colin looked up to see his brothers in the corner looking at him inquisitively.

“Oh, those two? You don’t want to be near the likes of them. Poorly mannered and when they were younger, they would wet the bed for years well beyond what was normal.”

You were following along for a while until that last part.

You gave Colin a quick look to see if he was being serious.

His mouth remained flat and tight-lipped for a few mere seconds before letting through a boisterous laugh.

“My apologies Y/N, those are my brothers.”

Your eyes widened at the confession.

“Your brothers?”

“Yes, lets introduce you,” he stated, beginning to pull you across the ballroom.

“Colin, No I—"

“Brothers, this is Miss y/l/n, Anthony, Benedict,” he pointed out.

You curtsied before both of them before speaking up.

“I told you, just Y/N is fine Colin.”

You weren’t sure what his brothers would say about your slight improperness. It was clear that the Bridgerton’s were a well-respected family in the ton.

You glanced at the eldest brother who you learned was named Anthony who gave you a curt nod before excusing himself to sneak off from an inquiring Lady Danbury.

You smiled at him before turning your gaze to the second eldest Bridgerton.

“Y/N here was telling me about her studies in the states. She is well-read and well-traveled.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully pushing Colin slightly.

“You flatter me, Colin. Unfortunately, I am not perfect. For example, I am about done with all of this and was just about to call a carriage.”

“Oh, but you must stay for one more dance Y/N. Poor Benedict here has not waltzed once.”

Benedict tried to sneakily hit his brother for his clear meddling.

“While that may be true, I do not need my younger brother imposing on such a lovely lady.” Benedict states.

“Nonsense, everyone must waltz at least once,” you laughed, pulling Benedict towards the center of the room.

His eyes widened at your forwardness as he shot Colin a disapproving brotherly look, to which Colin gave him a grin and thumbs up.

As the music began you moved around the room with Benedict.

“So, Mr. Bridgerton, tell me what exactly it is you do.”

“Just Benedict is fine,” he stated, mirroring your words from earlier.

“Besides, aren’t I the one who should be questioning you about your skills?”

“That’s awfully backwards thinking, I hope you don’t get stuck that way” you replied sarcastically before being spun around.

When you returned facing Benedict, a knowing grin was stuck on his face. You were witty. He liked witty.

“I suppose that is fair. I’m an artist, well…I’m trying to be an artist. It’s a little complicated.”

You nodded understandingly, while the arts were enjoyed by many, it wasn’t exactly a noble pursuit, especially for you as a woman.

“You should come by Sir Granville’s studio, it’s quite…”

You couldn’t think of a proper word to describe the soirees Granville hosted. It was taboo and scandalous to most respectable members of society. However, if Benedict was an artist as he was claiming, he should fit right in.

“…inspiring,” you finished.

Benedict gave you an interesting look.

Little did you know, he had been to Granville’s studio, several times.

He hadn’t been in a while since his family had just returned from Aubrey Hall and the preparation for Eloise’s season had been quite hectic for his mother.

But you, picturing you at Granville’s studio was not something Benedict had imagined.

Women who were married or of low social standing was something else, but you, a young lady in her first official season stalking down the halls in such a disreputable manner. It didn’t fit the picture of the beautiful woman before him.

Benedict was quickly learning not to try and categorize you into one box.

“What do you know of Granville’s studio?” he asked seriously.

“Well, for one, I’m staying there. Two, I feel more comfortable among that community than here, if you understand what I mean…” you trail off.

Benedict gives you a small smile of understanding.

As the song ends Benedict lifted your hand to his mouth, kissing it gently before sightly lowering it back down, fingers brushing softly as he pulls away.

“Until next time Y/N”

“I look forward to it Benedict.”

******

Two months had passed since Lady Danbury’s first ball of the season. In that time you had befriended Eloise and Colin Bridgerton, often sitting in the parlor room of their home during the daytime, chatting the day away.

As such, you had also grown closer to Penelope Featherington who also came over often. You always considered yourself to be quite perceptive, so it was evidently clear that Penelope was fond of Colin. You thought about mentioning something, but it didn’t seem like your place.

Throughout your time at the Bridgerton’s household you had seen Benedict a handful of times. Unfortunately, your encounters were reduced to small greetings, stolen glances and light brushes as you walked past each other.

Until today.

You were sitting in the empty parlor room as Eloise ran to her room to fetch some ‘evidence’ and ‘clues’ about Lady Whistledown.

“Good Afternoon Y/N” Benedict greeted as he walked in, taking a quick look around the room to find the two of you alone.

“Afternoon Mr. Bridgerton,” you greeted back, a slight teasing tone to contrast your seemingly formality.

He gave you a knowing look before continuing.

“I hope I’m not being too forward, but I plan on attending Sir Granville’s tonight, I was wondering if I would see you there?”

You gave him a teasing smile before your face fell into a serious and hurt look.

“Mr. Bridgerton, I’m appalled, would a respectable young woman such as myself be caught there? Imagine the horror if the rest of the ton were to find out.”

He let out a loud laugh at your remark, in the short time that he had known you, you never failed to make him laugh.

“Yes Benedict, I’ll see you there,” you smiled.

“Good,” he replied.

******

That night you had a few drinks to help you take the edge off before guests started coming over. There was something about interacting with Benedict that made you nervous.

 You were walking around the art studio observing the nude model and the artists renditions when you felt someone lay their hand on your shoulder.

“OH! Oh my, Benedict, you scared me.”

“Sorry, love, didn’t mean to startle you.”

You continued walking around the circle, admiring the art around you.

“She’s stunning, is she not?” you questioned.

“She is,” he answered quickly.

However, when you turned to look at him his eyes were already trained on yours.

You smiled widely, walking out of the studio as Benedict followed like a lost puppy.

“Will I ever get to see your art?” you asked him.

He smiled sheepishly as his arm reached back to scratch the back of his neck.

“I certainly would let you, if there was any.”

“Practicing here for a few months and you still have nothing to show?” you teased.

Benedict gave you a look.

“I may have asked around about you,” you confessed.

“And?” he asks.

From what you have heard, both from his siblings and other people around you. Benedict was a kind and creative soul, with a great appreciation for the beauty around him.

“Your family and friends speak highly of you, that’s important.”

“What about you? What do you speak of me?”

“Besides being a tortured artist? I think highly of you.”

He nodded his head again, before responding.

“I think highly of you as well,” he whispered quietly, leaning down slightly so he was more at eye level.

You blamed the alcohol in your system for what you did next.

Yanking him down by his collar, you pulled him close and reached up until your lips were flush against his, pushing with all your might as if you would never kiss him again.

“Y/N—” he pulled away, his senses flooding back.

“This is…no, I’ve dishonored you I—”

“Oh hush Benedict, I do not care about those rules. I want you.”

He looked down at you, holding your face in his hands as he searched your eyes for confirmation.

Biting your lip and grinning up at him, Benedict couldn’t help but pull you back in, one hand sinking to your waist to pull you closer, the other rested on your cheek.

“You know this means we have to get married now?” Benedict teases.

“That means you presume I would say yes,” you teased back.

His smile grew impossibly bigger as he pulled you back in for a tender kiss.

“Let’s just see how you perform tonight before we think about marriage” you joked.

Benedict pulled back with a smirk and look in his eye you haven’t seen yet as he looked you over.

“Art is all about practicing and perfecting, we might need to practice a few times before you make your final judgement” he teased back.

You threw your head back in surprise, a large laugh leaving your lips before you smiled sweetly at him.

This was not how you imagined the social season going.

check out the rest of my work ⤑ here!

[luvsbitca]

I’ve heard whispers that they might genderswap one of the love interests to make it lqbtiq+

If they did, it would make the most sense to do it to Benedict and Sophie.

To be clear, I like Sophie. I just think it could work. But, Benedict is so easily bi.

I mean, in my opinion, Lady Tilley is going to be his catalyst to be the main character next season.

So, if he is looking to try something out and meets some handsome gentleman at a masquerade ball. Or at one of his artist parties it could make sense for him to give into his bisexual soul.

Then, Benedict meets him again but keeps thinking it’s just a bit on the side and he’s going to meet some woman and marry her just like Sir Henry Granville. But, ‘Sophie’ is not having it even as they keep falling into bed. They still do all the stuff with the evil stepmother. Mama Bridgerton tells him about her great aunt and her companion. Benedict comes to his senses and declares himself, saves ‘Sophie’ from the docks, in Anthony’s last appearance. They move to the country and paint and are there for Eloise’s story.

I know they could easily go down a lesbian storyline for Eloise too.

[make-me-imagine]

Hearts Divided - A Nine Part Benedict Bridgerton Story (Masterlist)

Benedict Bridgerton x GN!Reader *sometimes might allude to a more feminine character, but no pronouns besides they/them are used (if you spot one I may have accidentally used, let me know!)

Story Synopsis:

Years ago, Edmund Bridgerton and Charles L/n, friends and equals, suddenly clashed and became enemies for unknown reasons. This caused a rift between the children of both families, who were then forced to never see each other again. Charles L/n took his family out of London not long later, and nothing had been seen of the family since.

Years later, Y/n L/n, their two siblings and their parents return to London. Even though Edmund Bridgerton is now deceased, Charles L/n, refuses to let go of the past.

Y/n is the opposite of their parents, they are kind, compassionate, and never understood the hatred of the Bridgertons. Once back in London, Y/n befriends Henry and Lucy Granville. And after attending one of his soirees, runs into a long lost friend, Benedict Bridgerton.

Once reunited, their friendship is rekindled, but not long later, difficulties arise. Not only because there were sworn enemies by their own fathers, but because their old friendship returns with a growing attraction between them now that they are adults.

What will they do when their attraction becomes an unbreakable bond? When the hatred of the Bridgerton's is still held strong by Y/n's father. A secret friendship turned romance, painful decisions and broken hearts may be all that lies in their future.

*Takes place between Seasons One and Two.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Chapter One: A Bitter Separation

One day, after the sudden discovery that the long-held friendship between Edmund Bridgerton and Charles L/n has come to a sudden and abrupt end. Y/n is heartbroken when forcefully separated from the Bridgerton family, who unlike their own family, accepted and gave them love they knew nowhere else.

Years after being forced out of London by their father, Y/n learns they are to return for the season. Plagued by the thoughts of what will happen while they are there.

- - - -

Chapter Two: Reunited Hearts

Now back in London, Y/n awaits the moment they might once again see the Bridgerton family and in particular Benedict. After making the acquaintance of Sir Granville and his wife Lucy, Y/n is unaware of just how close they are to seeing her long lost friend again.

- - - -

Chapter Three: Resentment

During the first ball of the season, Sir Charles L/n comes face to face with the Bridgerton's for the first time. And to no ones surprise, remains resentful for the same unknown reasons. Y/n and Benedict steal a moment during a dance, but it does not end as they wish. And Y/n's night only ends with more questions and anger.

- - - -

Chapter Four: Rebellious Hearts

After sneaking out in the middle of the night to another Granville party, Y/n and Benedict are able to continue rebuilding their friendship. But as they talk throughout the night, they realize, what they have now, is much more.

- - - -

Chapter Five: Discovered

After a month of secret rendezvous, Benedict and Y/n's feelings have developed into a strong love. But as careful as they've have been, it seems that neither of them can keep their secrets from their parents for long.

- - - -

Chapter Six: Sacrifice for Love

After Y/n and Benedict's relationship is uncovered, Y/n is left to make a heartbreaking decision to save Benedict and his family from scandal and disgrace. The result? Sacrificing any chance of happiness they might have.

- - - -

Chapter Seven: Fate Unknown

As Y/n grows closer to losing their happiness forever, they send Benedict a message. One last goodbye in case they are separated forever. Refusing to give up hope, Benedict reignites Y/n hope there would be a happy ending to this story.

- - - -

Chapter Eight: Secrets Unraveled

After one last secret meeting with Benedict, Y/n learns of the information he discovered about Edmund’s discovery. With one last attempt at saving their future, Y/n finally discovers their father’s long hidden secret.

- - - -

Chapter Nine: Hearts United

What Y/n set out for has been finished. The secret that plagued their mind for years has finally been revealed. But will knowing it allow them to be freed from their punishment?

- - -

[sea-owl]

So imagine DEFGH with Edmund and Violet KNOWING and 100% sure that ABC have fallen inlove with KSP but are refusing to admit it because they are dumb so the time came where its getting closer to choose the Elites and DEF decided to up the tension by bringing in men to make ABC jealous. Like Dorset who is the familu's doctor, Henry Granville who is Ben's artist friend (and maybe ex-lover) and Odysseus who is Colin's travel buddy from time to time. Basically I just want a scene where ABC are FUMING mad because these 3 outsiders are suddenly taking an interest with their ladies???? Lmao

Oh this would be interesting, but Kate, Sophie, and Penelope would probably weary as hell. One thing I forgot to mention is that the Selection has a strict no dating others rule for the girls while they are in the competition. Which makes sense, can’t have the potential future queen falling in love with someone else and potentially creating a security risk when she is literally in the competition for the prince. Not to mention not many would be the same caste number as the girls. Why would they give up the nice life they will create as 3s for some man? No sir, I will become a spinster after this if you do not match.

But that would be funny if the three men come to the castle for one reason or another, either to visit their friends or for work. Hyacinth and Gregory take advantage of the visit and lead the three around where they bump into the girls. They gain an interest in the three girls which ranges from completely platonic, (Henry) to maybe there is some attraction (Dorset and Odysseus) but the girls don’t even notice. They’re too busy networking with their new besties.

The public does though, and they are running wild with new theories. Excitement of love triangles and forbidden attraction. What are these men going to do? What are the princes going to do? Who will these girls choose? At one point the PR team gotta step in because okay, the Selection is about the princes finding their wives not this!

The shippers who are shipping Kate, Sophie, and Penelope with Dorset, Henry, and Odysseus highly offends the princes and soon they’re being seen close to the girls. The girls throw something at them at one point for being grumpy asses while having a friendly meeting in the girls room.

[silverhallow]

When Sophie Met the Granville’s

Sophie felt nervous about meeting Benedict’s mentor. Henry Granville had been an important part of Benedict’s life and his progression with his artwork, though Benedict kept trying to tell her his art was down to her lately rather than her old mentor…

But he had been an important part of making Benedict understand that there was a life that he could live with Sophie. That whilst society might shun them, he didn’t need society, all he needed was Sophie. Benedict had told her about his speech a few years ago.

And though he had been nervous about it, he had sat Sophie down and told her about his past, including his double dalliance with Mrs Granville and Genevieve Delacroix.

Sophie had been a little shocked but not surprised. She had figured that Benedict would have a past with women and that he had a bit of a reputation with women, not like his brother’s but still, she knew he was a bit of a rake.

She knew about Sir Henry Granville’s parties as well. She knew their reputation, both the art ones he held as part of respectable society, and the ones that were only known by a select number

She knew of those parties because some of the other maids that she worked with who would often model at these parties and one or two of them had engaged in some of the extra activities and she’d heard in a lot of detail about those activities and was rather looking forward to being married to try some of the things out that she heard about but in the meantime, she felt a little sick to meet the Granville’s.

Benedict told her what he had witnessed and seen.

He had told her that whilst he had not mentioned her by name at the time, Henry knew about Sophie’s background, but not who she really was. As far as Henry was concerned Sophie was a maid.

Sophie knew that she would receive no judgement from the Granville’s but it hadn’t stopped her from feeling nervous about meeting them.

She had been a ball of nerves since Benedict had suggested it so that it wasn’t at the Wedding Reception that she would meeting them, and she had found meeting Genevieve the day after she had heard about her and Benedict’s affair, to be rather weird and a little stressful since the woman had been fitting her for her wedding dress.

To meet Lucy Granville on her wedding day may give her some sort of heart failure so she had agreed to Benedict’s proposal that they go for tea the afternoon before they left for Kent.

Violet had agreed, as Lucy and Henry were married they were an acceptable chaperone, and she had no idea about Benedict’s past with Lucy Granville.

The day of Sophie’s meeting the Granville’s arrived and she felt quite nervous as she got herself ready. She had told Violet she was quite able to get herself ready and that she was in no need of a ladies maid and though Violet and Benedict said she should have one, she had backed them down to at least let her get through her wedding and honeymoon before they would acquire one…

And the second Ladies maid in the Bridgerton Household was getting Violet and Hyacinth ready for their journey to Kent where the wedding would be taking place.

Sophie was able to spend an hour getting herself ready and fretting over what to wear, before she ultimately decided on a dark green dress. It was one of the few items that Genevieve had already prepared that would fit Sophie without any sort of adjustments being required.

After tea with the Granville’s Sophie would be going over to Bridgerton House for the night before they would leave for Kent the next morning and then the wedding the day after. It had been a whirlwind of a day and she felt exhausted but she was determined that she would meet the Granville’s before the wedding.

Benedict made his way over to Number 5 to collect his fiancee, wearing a green waistcoat and Violet chuckled to herself as she went to collect Sophie who was talking to Hyacinth in the parlour.

“What is so funny, mother?” Benedict asked as Violet walked away

“You’ll see” Violet replied with a wave of her hand and when she reappeared two minutes later with Sophie, he saw what was so amusing.

They were matching. The colour of his waistcoat was almost identical to that of Sophie’s dress, to the point he was sure that his tailor had either taken the fabric from Genevieve or she had provided the fabric to his tailor.

Sophie beamed and giggled “You’d have thought we had planned it” she grinned as Benedict walked over and took her gloved hand and kissed it. It was all he dared do in front of his mother. His ears were still ringing a little from the slap he had received when he brought Sophie home for 7am looking rather dishevelled.

Benedict smiled “you look beautiful” he said taking her arm “mother we shall go directly to Bridgerton House from the Granville’s. Kate will be expecting us. I hope this is acceptable”

“Very well, I shall see you tomorrow at Aubrey Hall, Benedict, I swear if you do not behave yourself, I will render your wedding night, and honeymoon entirely useless” Violet warned as she watched the newly engaged couple make their way out of the house into the waiting carriage.

“Don’t worry she doesn’t mean that. She wants more Grandchildren” Benedict grinned as he saw the flush on Sophie’s cheeks once they were out in the June sunshine.

“Benedict” Sophie hissed, her face going more red. Benedict’s words had turned the waiting footman red in the cheeks as he looked at Sophie and Sophie just wanted the ground to swallow her.

She might have enjoyed listening to the stories the other maids and footmen would tell, and might enjoy the attention from her soon-to-be husband but it didn’t mean she wanted the entire world to know what they were doing.

That and they weren’t even married yet, the fact she had anticipated her wedding vows four times already… was enough to have her redder than a raspberry.

“Oh bish” Benedict said as he helped Sophie up into the carriage “it’s nothing they’ve not heard or seen before with my brother and his wife” he said climbing in after her and sitting next to her on the seat.

“And… my darling, when we leave for our honeymoon from Aubrey…” he said, leaning in and whispering in her ear as the door shut and they heard the footman getting onto the carriage and readying the horses to depart “nothing they won’t hear from us the moment we set off”

“Benedict!” Sophie practically yelled, slapping his shoulder as her entire body flushed with embarrassment and as much as it pained her to admit it… anticipation.

Benedict just laughed and pressed a kiss to the pulse point in Sophie’s neck, a place he had learned would make her moan with unbidden passion.

Sophie bit her lip to avoid it as he moved back to ear and with a husky growl whispered “I’d give you a little preview of the pleasure that can be had in a carriage… but the Granville’s do not live that far away and I fear if I were to hear you moan and scream as I tasted you… we would never make it to tea”

Sophie swallowed, sure her entire body was completely red with embarrassment as she decided two could play that game “well then Mr Bridgerton…” she said in what she hoped was a seductive voice… “it is a shame and I would offer to use my mouth and taste you but alas… I fear we will not make tea and I find myself rather… parched right now but if you are a good boy during tea and through supper with your brother and Kate… then perhaps I shall reward you in kind tonight… if you are able to make it to my bedchamber without being caught”

Benedict blinked and looked up from Sophie’s neck where he had been lavishing kisses, shock and arousal evident on his face.

“You… You…” he stammered, unable to find the words as he heard every little innuendo and he felt is cock twitching in his breeches.

Sophie burst into fits of giggles as she saw his face “you minx”

“You started my darling” Sophie replied innocently smoothing down her skirts “perhaps you should sit opposite me rather than next to me so that we are not tempted and you can be a good boy” she teased

“Minx! Behave” Benedict grumbled as he started trying to think of mathematical computations to get his growing erection to subside.

“You started it” she said sweetly.

“Oh what did I do to deserve such a wonderful wife” he chuckled shaking his head

“Do you need help with that?” she grinned gesturing at his rather obvious bulge

“You just said we do not have time…” Benedict grumbled

“Well no, you said it, I just repeated it, but I was more thinking I could tell you about the time I watched one of the footmen cleaning up after a party and tripping down the stairs with a rather full chamber pot…”

Benedict gagged at the image in his head but it worked, any thought he had about Sophie sucking him, or him disappearing under her skirts, had gone and his erection had gone down quicker than the time he had forgotten to lock the door and his mother had walked into his room when he was 16.

“Oh that… that’s just…” he gagged again but Sophie was too busy giggling away in her seat.

“It worked didn’t it?” she asked innocently.

“I do believe you might be the death of me my love” Benedict said putting an arm over her shoulder as the carriage continued it’s short journey

“Perhaps but you will die a happy man”

“With you by my side for the rest of my life… I absolutely will be a happy man” he smiled warmly, pressing a loving, gentle kiss to her lips.

Sophie smiled, their little chat and teasing had done a lot to make her forget her nerves about meeting Sir and Lady Granville and as the carriage came to a stop Sophie felt perfectly relaxed and she couldn’t help but wonder if that had been part of Benedict’s plan.

“Come on my love, I do not wish for us to be late, Henry’s cook makes wonderful shortbread” Benedict smiled brightly.

The carriage door opened and Benedict alighted first, offering his hand to Sophie who climbed down and looked up at the small townhouse situated about 10 minutes from Mayfair.

It was quaint and reminded Sophie of Benedict’s bachelor lodgings just a little less grand.

Sophie followed Benedict up the stairs and when he knocked the door opened, there was no butler but an older gentleman beamng “Bridgerton! I feared you had gotten lost… or decided not to come!”

“Granville, I would never miss the opportunity to have your cook's shortbread. It will be a while before I am back in London after tomorrow” Benedict grinned at his mentor.

“Come in, come in. I gave the butler and the likes the afternoon off, just a chance to chat you know. Get to know one another” Henry smiled as he peered at the blonde on Benedict’s arm.

“Thank you” Benedict said as he gestured for Sophie to lead the way into the house.

Once in and the door was shut Benedict made the introduction between Sophie and Henry.

“Sir Henry Granville, allow me the pleasure of introducing you to my fiancee, Miss Sophia Beckett… Sophie, this is Sir Henry Granville, my mentor and friend” Benedict said

Sophie bobbed a curtsey and offered her hand to Henry as was custom “It is a pleasure to meet your Sir Granville, Benedict has said such wonderful things about you and your art” Sophie smiled sweetly

“And he has told me such wonderful things about your my dear, and has not done justice to your beauty with his words” Henry smiled “but please… call me Henry, we are amongst friends are we not Miss Beckett”

“Very well Henry, then i insist that you call me Sophie, it is what my friends call me” Sophie smiled

“Come on we best make it into the sitting room before Lucy comes thundering out looking for us” Henry grinned

“Oh I am sure she won’t take lightly to you saying that Henry” Benedict chuckled.

Henry laughed “oh I have no doubt but she was just ensuring the cook made enough biscuits as she knows how much of a fiend you are for them” he said as he led them down the hallway towards their drawing room.

Benedict beamed and Sophie chuckled “perhaps I should ask Lady Granville if her cook would be prepared to give us the recipe”

“If you ask really nicely I am sure she could” Henry said as he opened the door to the drawing room and he led them into the room where Lucy was waiting. She stood instantly and looked at her husband through narrowed eyes

“It does not take that long to open the door, I know James normally answers the door but it isn’t that heavy” Lucy teased

“Sorry dearest, but I couldn’t pass an opportunity to tease Benedict” Henry grinned

“Well that’s even worse, you know you are meant to share in that particular pleasure” Lucy smirked as Benedict walked in the room with Sophie on his arm and Sophie giggled and Lucy looked at her and Sophie felt her entire body go red wondering if it was perhaps a bit inappropriate for her to giggle.

She also wasn’t sure if her blush was due to the fact that her soon to be husband had slept with this woman and she felt a little self-conscious about that. How did one act around a former lover of one’s soon to be husband?

“Lucy, may I present Miss Sophia Beckett… Benedict’s Fiancee… Miss Beckett may I present my wife, Lady Lucy Granville” Henry said making the introductions.

Sophie bobbed a curtsey ��it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance Lady Granville” Sophie said, suddenly feeling very timid and shy.

“It’s wonderful to meet you too, Benedict has told us so much about you that I feel we are friends already, so please call me Lucy, I am sure Henry has already told you to call you by his name” Lucy smiled warmly, seeing the way the younger woman was looking a little uncomfortable she wanted to put her at ease as best as she could.

“He did. That would be lovely thank you” Sophie said

“Why don’t we all take a seat as I am sure I can see Benedict about to start salivating at the smell of the biscuits” Lucy laughed gesturing to the sofa.

Sophie laughed “he is a Bridgerton, be grateful it wasn’t Colin or Gregory, they would have been gone already”

“I saw them at your brother and sister’s weddings, I thought the older one was going to swallow the entire plate of sandwiches whole” Henry chuckled

“That would be Colin,” Benedict said as he sat down next to Sophie.

“How do you take your tea Sophie?” Lucy asked

“Milk with two sugars please�� Sophie replied politely as Lucy handed Benedict his tea and a plate of the biscuits.

“Thank you,” Benedict said, putting one of the biscuits straight into his mouth and eating it happily.

“So Sophie, Benedict told us a bit about you but I have to say, and I hope you will forgive me for being forward, but you have a remarkable accent for a former housemaid” Henry said

Sophie nearly dropped the tea Lucy was handing to her, she had expected some questions and it had been the one she had been asked most of her life, from the moment she started working for Araminta she had been plagued by people saying she was so well spoken for a maid.

“I…” She stammered

Benedict put his hand on her leg as Henry blushed “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“No… it’s okay” Sophie managed to say. “I…” she blinked, not sure what to say or how to answer and looked at Benedict with a little bit of fear as she had no idea what to do or say.

“You can tell them the truth, out of everyone in London, they won’t say anything I promise” Benedict said.

Lucy and Henry looked at one another confused before Lucy spoke “we… we know what it is like to keep a secret, if you want to share… I promise it will come to our graves with us”

Henry nodded “whatever happens in these walls, stays within these walls and doesn’t get spoken about”

Sophie swallowed, took a sip of her tea. She knew from Benedict had told her that she could trust these people, Henry had kept his own secret for years, Lucy kept that secret and went along with the ruse in public. Lucy had never said anything about the parties or her own affairs and kept her husband’s secret.

Benedict took Sophie’s hand and squeezed them “i trust these two with my life, outside of my family, these are probably the only two i’d trust with the truth”

“Okay…” Sophie replied with a deep breath “will… will you help me?” she asked Benedict who nodded.

Over the next 45 minutes Sophie told Henry and Lucy of her past, the second time she had told her story and probably the last as she had no intention of anyone else ever finding the truth. It would be the last time she spoke of it, the story that Violet had told would be the one that would be her future and her past.

Henry and Lucy listened carefully to what they were being told and did their best to keep the horror of Sophie’s past off their faces.

They were shocked to find out what Sophie had been put through and were stunned even more when Benedict told them how Sophie had punched Lady Penwood.

“Wow” Lucy said in a little awe “I mean… I never liked Lady Penwood… One of the models used to work for her and said she was a bitch… if you’ll pardon my french” she blushed a little

Sophie laughed “I mean… she was to everyone but she really hated me”

“I…” Henry said looking at Sophie with wide-eyed shock.

“What is it?” Lucy asked her husband

“I… i think i may have met you as a child” Henry said blinking rapidly and Sophie looked at him with just as much shock on her face as was one his

“I beg your pardon?” Sophie said “You… how?”

“Well… it was just when I was starting out in the field fresh from University, my father and older brother knew your father… and he asked if perhaps I wanted to come to Penwood to practise my portrait skills. Your father wanted a new one and I remember seeing a small girl, you must have been about 9 years old in the Library, wearing a little white dress, no shoes and hair down climbing on the tables to reach for books”

Sophie gasped, her hands flew to her mouth. “You… You were… you were the one who got Cendrillon down for me!”

“I was! Lord… I had always wondered what had happened to the Earl’s Ward but when I enquired with Lady Penwood…” Henry’s face turned pale and he tasted acid in his mouth

“She told those in the village that knew about me that I’d died…”

“SHE DID WHAT?!” Benedict roared, the last of his biscuits on the plate falling to the floor at his outrage.

“Oh come on Benedict, what else was she going to do? There were precious few people who knew who I was or about my existence. I didn’t… I didn’t realise anyone in London knew about me” Sophie said softly. “But there were people in the village that knew about me, and i’d heard her telling someone about a week after my father’s will was read and she told me about the changes…” she smiled sadly.

“If I had known…” Henry said

“Please… don’t. There is no need to concern yourselves with ifs and what if’s and buts, what matters now is that it is in the past, we need no longer concern ourselves with what occurred in the past. Any of what happened in the past” Sophie said with a smile on her face “I am alive, I am safe and that woman can no longer hurt me”

“You are incredible” Lucy said, a breath of awe leaving her as she chuckled at the “in awe” look of sheer adoration of Benedict’s face “if I was in your shoes I am not sure I’d be so bright and perky about the entire thing”

“The way I look at it, yes I can be bitter about what happened to me but what is that going to achieve? I’ve got so much more to look forward to in my life than I ever thought or dreamed possible… by looking back and sulking on what happened means she won… and I refuse to let her dictate or ruin my life anymore” Sophie replied

“That is a very good attitude to have” Henry replied “though Benedict. I do have a question for you?”

“Yes?” Benedict asked looking at his mentor sceptically

“How on earth did you not realise Sophie was your mystery lady from the ball? I mean… I get that she is slimmer than the pictures you first sketched… but the face…” Henry teased and laughed as Benedict went bright red.

“Don’t tease him, he got enough of that last night from his family. My hair is much shorter than it was back then and the weight has come off my face, not just the rest of my body” Sophie said, defending her soon to be husband.

Henry just smiled and watched the two for a moment with a glance to his wife and they could both see the love and devotion the newly engaged, soon to be wed couple had in front of them.

They sat talking for a little while longer before Henry asked Benedict’s opinion on some art that he was working on and the two gentlemen left the room and Sophie tried not to feel too uncomfortable at being left with the woman who knew Benedict intimately.

Sophie’s fingers started to fidget with the skirts of her dress and Lucy noticed and gave Sophie a small smile “You have no need to be nervous around me…”

“I know it’s just… well… I felt a bit odd around Madame Delacroix yesterday… I’m marrying the man you…” Sophie went red.

“Sophie” Lucy said moving to sit closer to her “as we said earlier, what happens in this house. Benedict was a wonderful experience and I won’t lie, it was a fantastic night but anyone with a pair of eyes can see how utterly devoted he is to you… so I promise you, nothing will ever happen in that area again”

“It’s… I…” Sophie swallowed “it’s not that… well not just that… but I just… wonder if he will eventually get bored of me… he has had such an… array of women to keep him entertained… with just…”

Lucy put her hand on top of Sophie’s “Darling girl, when a man loves a woman, he needs no one else… and he will teach you, and should you feel you need any advice, you can always write to me… I am sure the girls who came to our parties told you things”

Sophie blushed but nodded “they did… I… I find that I am eager to learn”

“Then that is all Benedict will ever need, but if you ever wish to talk, or ask anything you can always write or if you are in London, my door will always be open. Henry wishes to support Benedict in any way he can with his art, and from what he has told us of your encouragement to continue with this work… I am positive we will see a lot of each other over the years to come as Benedict continues to flourish”

Sophie smiled “Thank you Lucy, that is very kind. I do wish to encourage his art, he is so talented! He just lacks confidence”

“Well he could not ask for a more supportive wife” Lucy smiled

Sophie beamed at her “and I believe he could not have more supportive friends, nor could I” Sophie said

Lucy hugged Sophie tightly just as the men reentered the room and Henry chuckled “I think we may find our wives end up as thick as thieves…”

“Don’t you know it” Lucy shot back at them, giving Benedict a wink and Sophie just grinned.

It was an innocent smile but he could see that Sophie had found a friend in Lucy and he was pleased that Sophie had someone outside of their family that knew the truth about her.

Lucy and Henry accepted them for who they were and they accepted Lucy and Henry for who they were. The two couples knew the truth about the other and it was nice for each of them as when Sophie and Benedict would come to London, Sophie would always have tea with Lucy and Henry and Lucy would sometimes come to Wiltshire, sometimes with Lord Wetherby but it was refreshing to be themselves with one another.

Sophie and Lucy would write to one another and Lucy would often include some of her adventures at the latest party her husband hosted and when Lucy found that she was pregnant turned to Sophie for advice.

Lucy and Henry find a place outside of London to raise their daughter Emily, moving further north to York where Henry set up studios and so the two couples saw less and less of one another until Emily turned 19 and they decided it was time for her to make her bow in society…

And they saw one another for the first time in nearly 12 years at the unveiling of Benedict’s fourth work of art being presented to the National Gallery and celebrating its unveiling… for the two sets of parents to realise…

Emily and Charlie… had already met and several months later…The Granville’s and The Bridgerton’s became a family.

[1shot-wonder]

One- The Day You Met (Colin POV)

Part one of Colin's POV of "5 Times Colin Birdgerton Fell in Love and One Time He Did Something About It"

Masterlist

Warnings: None :)

Word Count: 1146

Series Summary: After his heartbreak over Marina Thompson and a wonderful trip abroad, Colin Bridgerton is finally starting to get his feet back under him. And when a new lady debuts on the marriage market, he may be ready to give love another chance.

Summary: Like so many stories, it starts with a ball. And a meddling brother

“Tell me, do you two intend to get married at all this decade, or are you going to wait until mother literally drags you both down the aisle?” Anthony asked as he walked up to his brothers, Kate on his arm. Colin and Benedict rolled their eyes at their brother. 

“You only started courting Edwina because you felt it was your duty.” Benedict reminded his brother. He saw something flicker over his brother’s face, but he was too drunk to think about it.

“And look how well it worked out for him.” Kate piped up. One of her hands rested steadily on her stomach. “It would not kill you to dance, gentleman.”

“Ugh, mother has infected you.” Colin mumbled. 

“It may be the pregnancy, actually. I heard it makes women more romantic.” A voice piped up from behind them. Benedict smiled at the newcomer.

“Lady Granville, how are you?” He greeted her with a kiss on the hand. 

“Quite well, although I find myself without a companion for the moment, as Henry has taken it upon himself to escort our ward.” Lucy gestured casually towards the other side of the room. “I was wondering if you would be so kind as to escort me to the lemonade table?” Benedict smiled and offered his hand, shooting Colin a victorious look as he was led away from their new meddlers. 

“You do not seem the sort to seek an escort to the lemonade.” He observed. “Know that I mean no offense when I say this, but please tell me you are not trying to set me up with your ward.” Lucy laughed. 

“No, I do not think you two are suited for each other.” Lucy admitted. “As a matter of fact, I was hoping you might be willing to send your brother our way.” 

“You are serious?”

“Yes.” Lucy confirmed. “I believe they could be a good match. You may foist all the blame on me if you like.” She offered. Benedict sighed. 

“I owe you and your husband quite a bit for the wake-up call he gave me.” He admitted. “So, I will take my brother’s wrath on your behalf.” Lucy smiled.

“Wonderful. Who knows, maybe he will be thanking you by the end of the night.”

“I doubt it.”

///

“I loathe you.” Colin muttered as Benedict led him around the room.

“I am doing a favor for a friend. There are worse things than being forced into a single dance with a pretty girl.” Benedict insisted. “Besides, Lu- Lady Granville would not have made the suggestion if she did not think you compatible, so I am willing to bet she can at least carry on an interesting conversation.”

“Granville had better have taken a bullet for you.” Colin insisted. But he did adjust his coat and follow his brother to where the Granvilles were standing. 

“Sir Granville, Lucy Granville. You remember my younger brother, Colin.” Benedict nudged the younger forward. Henry cast one knowing look at his wife before bowing. 

“Of course. It is a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Bridgerton. If we may introduce you to our ward, Cassidy Dilber.” Miss Dilber stepped forward and curtsied. “Cassidy, these are two of the Bridgertons I was telling you about, my associate Benedict, and his younger brother Colin.” Colin was the one who reached out to take her offered hand. 

“Charmed.” He said quietly. He had to admit, it wasn’t entirely a lie. Cassidy was not quite traditionally beautiful. Her hair was dark, a few shades darker than the famous Bridgerton hair. 

Her face was quite round, her lips fuller than average. The corners of her mouth were lifted in a permanent smile, and it seemed natural. Her skin was clear, but not quite fair. And her eyes…they were almost golden in color. Colin found himself momentarily distracted by them. He was distracted by her entire appearance, really. While not conventional, he found her quite lovely. And when he asked for a spot on her dance card, it was not entirely due to his brother’s presence over his shoulder.

“So, Miss Dilber.” He spoke quietly as they stepped onto the floor for their dance. “I believe I heard you grew up in Kent?”

“Yes.” She confirmed. “I stayed in the family country estate for most of my life. We would visit the city every spring, so I could see the masters, but other than that…”

“My childhood was much the same.” Colin admitted. “Our country seat is called Aubrey Hall. It is one of my favorite places in the world. If nothing else, it is nice to get away from the…let us call it action, of the city.” She laughed quietly. 

“Is it true that you have traveled?”

“You have done your research, haven’t you?” He asked quietly. Miss Dilber glanced away. “It’s alright. Everyone knows. Yes, it is true. I spent a few months farther east on the continent, mostly in Greece.”

“Greece?” Cassidy repeated.

“Oh? Where?”

“Anywhere. Everywhere.” She smiled dreamily. “I mean, I am a hopeless romantic who dreams of walking the streets of Paris under the moonlight, but other than that I will accept anything.” It was Colin’s turn to laugh. It was nice to laugh at a ball again. “Do you have many siblings?”

“Yes. Seven, in total. I am the third.”

“Seven?” She repeated. “I can’t imagine it. I am an only child.” Colin nodded. He had figured as much, given her circumstances. Suddenly, Miss Dilber was knocked into by another woman on the floor. Colin immediately pulled her closer, groaning internally when he recognized Cressida Cowper.

“I am so sorry! I did not see you there!” Colin sucked in a breath. Cressida had never forgiven him for jilting her in defense of Penelope at the ball two years ago. He doubted she ever would. He ignored her entirely, spinning Miss Dilber back into the dance with ease. 

“Well she seemed…lovely.” The dry tone of her voice, coupled with the red flush of frustration on her cheeks, made him laugh again. Loudly, this time. She jumped a little, then joined in the laughter. Colin was heedless of the eyes on them as he finished the dance off with an extra twirl. He clapped genuinely as they finished the dance, eyes taking in Miss Dilber’s flushed smile. 

“Thank you for the dance, Mr. Bridgerton.” She said, “It was lovely.” Colin felt his lips quirk up in a smile. 

“The pleasure was mine, Miss Dilber.” He told her with a bow. “I would like to see you again soon, if I may.”

“Yes. Yes I would like that very much.”“Yes. I won’t bore you with the details, I am quite certain my brothers will automatically develop headaches.” Another giggle. 

“I won’t make you tell me tonight, but I wouldn’t mind hearing about your travels.” She admitted. “I’ve always wanted to travel.”

[7thcirclebaker]

Rewatching Bridgerton and I just realized in Episode 5 that the reason Benedict reacts like that to being introduced to Granvilles wife was not because he'd seen Granville being Gay AF at the orgy, but rather because right after seeing that, he'd gone and shagged said wife at the orgy

[ladymercysletters]

A Gentleman’s Eye

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Word Count : 1264

# = your first initial 

You’d heard a Bridgerton had started coming to Lord Granville’s parties but you’d never seen them there before. You yourself had only been to one once before. Henry had insisted you came as soon as your obligatory year of mourning had finished. Your old and lecherous husband had kept you practically locked away at your estate since he married only a few years previous. His greasy, sweaty palms had only touched you once or twice – trying to produce an heir, before breathed his last in some East End brothel and left you with an estate and your title.

You wandered the halls of the party for a while, wearing a half mask that just about concealed your identity. Still thinking about the Bridgerton in attendance you occupied your mind trying to decipher which one of them it could be. A brother, obviously – no unmarried lady of standing would risk being seen here, lest she completely leave behind her reputation. So, a brother. The eldest was a known rake, but an artists den didn’t seem like the type of establishment he’d frequent judging by the last conversation you’d had with him. The younger, Colin? If you recalled, perhaps the poor boy had been led here unawares. No, you had your money on the second son, he’d always had a wandering eye when it came to society and you were fairly sure of your guess as you thought on it more.

Slipping through the gatherings of small groups with your wine in hand, you could have missed him – being obscured by an easel, where it not for Sir Granville calling out for you and guiding you into the artists den. Henry talked away, explaining the theme of the evening and introducing you to some of the artists as you payed no mind at all. Caught in the captivating image of Benedict Bridgerton, illuminated by the glow of the fireplace, concentration clear on his furrowed brow and curved lip.

‘My dear, I have lost you’ Sir Henry jested, seeing you otherwise occupied.

‘No n… not at all, I am sorry’

‘Don’t be. Had he not had that effect on me I doubt he would have found his way here at all’ he chuckled, sipping at his glass. You both looked on. The concentration he gave to his work was undeniably attractive, but the open waistcoat and rolled sleeves made your corset feel tighter that it had before entering the room.

Feeling warm all of a sudden and completely out of your depth you made your excuses and returned to the hallway, feeling cooler already as you went in search of another glass of wine, and more platonic company.

Your husband had never spent much time with you, thank the lord, only the occasional weekend where he would lock himself away in his study with his steward. It left you a lot of time to read, and drink, and wander the painted halls alone, and untouched.

The evening wandered on and the few glasses of wine you had indulged in had taken slight effect, leaving you rosy and less guarded than before.

Benedict leant against a wall as he watched the hoards around him, leaning back to take a drag of his cigarette. Deciding on another glass of wine to fill the void left by his art he turned for wherever the source of the wine had been previously and almost toppled over a figure in his path.

Falling off your heel you were saved from toppling completely by two large hands coming around your waist to save you. As you pulled the fallen mask from your face you saw you were mere inches away from the face of Benedict Bridgerton, the man who had taken over your thoughts for the entire evening.

‘Lady Y/N’ Benedict exclaimed ‘I do apologise, I didn’t see you’

‘The fault is all mine’ you interrupted as he pulled you to your feet

‘No, I insist. I payed no mind to where I was going’ he carried on, taking your hand in his. You noted his other hand was still holding the small of your waist. ‘t least let me get you another glass’ he noted, looking down at the crystal shards strewn on the floor. He looked up at you through his lashes and you locked eyes, his crooked smile making your chest flutter as he led you gently through the halls to another glass of wine.

His conversation enthralled you – for the brother of Anthony Bridgerton you half expected him to know nothing of art and culture, however his knowledge and charm exceeded all expectations and you practically hung on his every word as you discussed the great renaissance painters. Your quiet corner of the house remained so as you talked between yourselves, only candlelight to accompany you as talked about your passions and wants in life.

The closer you became the more you enjoyed the warmth Benedict’s body emitted, his scent surrounded you and you wanted nothing more than to curl into it. Benedict was leaning in to you as well. Although he usually attended these parties in the hopes of forming more intimate relations with a woman for the evening, he found you utterly captivating. Your mask long gone he took the opportunity to drink in your features, mulling them over as only an artist could.

As you continued talking about an exhibition you had seen at Somerset House the year previous Benedict took it upon himself to brush a stray curl away from your eyes. The action took you both off guard and your closeness became apparent to both of you when his soft fingers trailed slowly down the side of your face.

‘You are unutterably beautiful; do you know that?’ Benedict whispered lowly.

‘Do you say that to everyone you bump into?’ you quipped back, wine slowing your speech

‘Never in my life’ he growled, towering over you as you pressed a palm to his chest.

‘I am a Lady’ you sighed – his closeness enough to set every hair on your body on edge. His breath bringing goose bumps out on your skin.

‘And I a Gentleman… My Lady’ Benedict whispered into your skin as he laid one solitary soft kiss to the bared skin of your shoulder. Your breath caught in your throat. Never in all your years had anyone treated you with such softness. As he pulled back, he brushed the tip of his nose gently across your jawline, separating you both mere inches as you had been before. ‘I have never met a woman like you before.’

‘You shouldn’t have met me tonight’ you smirked, knowing that this couldn’t go any further than you both wanted it too. It was already dangerous enough being here without your mask, but in a darkened corner with a gentleman, you could be ruined.

Benedict leaned back, wiping his hand over his face to sober himself up. Of course - he could ruin you like this, and however much he desired you he couldn’t be your downfall. You slipped out off of the bench and out of the soft grasp of his fingertips, fleeing through the open door; holding your mask to your face before your carriage swept you away into the night. Benedict watched through the frosted window as you were carried away into the night. Already missing your presence he turned to see you had left your handkerchief on the table – Initials decorating the corner read #P. Pocketing the item as he stood to retire for the evening he determined that he would find you again.

[faebirdie]

so, i just rewatched Bridgerton with my mama and as much as i love the show i do have a critique that i haven't seen brought up at all. first, i want to say that i absolutely love the idea of period pieces being made more inclusive and set in a forward thinking society. like give us this 100 more times. no more period pieces where the only poc are maids or slaves. fuck those.

but why then, if you are already changing the source material and the history to make it more inclusive, do lgbtq+ people still have to hide and be at risk? why has society only progressed so far if "Love conquers all." as the incredible Lady Danbury so wonderfully puts it? don't us queer folks deserve to see ourselves happy in period pieces too?

if you are already adding in storylines to open the door for diversity then how hard is it to add in one about the queen's lesbian daughter or her trans son? i mean as it is there are only two gay characters in the show (only one of whom who talks) and no trans characters. and if i remember right both of them are white. lgbtq+ poc deserve more then that.

the point is, why in a show about love conquering all does MY love have to hide in the shadows still? how is that right?

[fanaticalfantasist]

A Smile Across the Floor (Benedict Bridgerton x Reader)

A/N: I have started, finally, reading the Bridgerton novels and omg! I love them so much, esepcially the brothers! Anyway have another imagine/oneshot :) 

Masterlist

Part 2: The Card         Part 3: Flowers

The ballroom at Lady Danbury’s was packed with debutantes and mothers, all waiting for the next match to be made. Mothers peraded their daughters around the floor like horses waiting to be sold to the highest bidder, each one groomed to perfection. (Y/N) Keats felt massively out of place at such an event, she did not have a mother to parade her around the room or even hold her hand. Her older brother Henry hadn’t even bothered to come, he’d found a wife the last season. She was insufferable woman who wanted (Y/N) out of their home as soon as possible. If she had not recieved an invitation to join Sir Henry Granville and his wife for the season she was certain she’d have been forced to marry the local vicar. 

“Stop fretting my dear you look beautiful” Lucy Granville assured the nervous young woman who was almost shaking with fear. This wasn’t the world that she was use to. Her brother always hid her away from the world, mainly becuase he saw her as a burden and embaressment. She was far too smart, and artistic for his liking. She was too beautiful for the liking of his wife, and as such (Y/N) had been treated as a useless burden for most of her life. So being dressed up in a fine gown in a ballroom wasn’t in (Y/N)‘s comfort zone. 

Benedict Bridgerton had been hiding in the corner of the ballroom with Eloise, both trying to avoid their mother and who they’d be forced into dancing with. Eloise was in the middle of a rant about how uncomfortable her dress was, when one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. She looked around the room as if she’d never been in a room like this or at least with this many people. He noted how she stayed close to the Granville’s who she’d arrived with, he carried on watching her for most of the evening. 

“She’s not normally this nervous.” the voice of Henry Granville made Benedict jump out of his thoughts. He turned to his mentor with a raised eyebrow, as if to ask what he could mean. 

“Benedict I may not be an expert in matches, but I know that look in your eyes. (Y/N) is a lovely young woman, she is staying with us. Maybe you should come over tomorrow, she likes Hyacinths.” with that Granville walked away from they young man. 

Benedict watched as Henry made his way over to his wife and their ward, he whispered something in the young woman’s ear and she blushed. Looking across the room she made eye contact with Beneditct. The world stopped, everyone froze in place as they looked at each other and smiled. 

[wespersdaughter]

ten out of ten - benedict bridgerton x reader

planet her series | masterlist

Summary: You’re already intrigued by the second Bridgerton brother, the artist. So when your favourite modiste tells about his *ahem* game, you need to know just how good he is.

Warnings: this is easily my spiciest fic yet, there’s nothing explicit but reader is pretty horny for Benedict so be aware of that (to be fair so am I), and apparently I can't even get spicy without sprinkling some angst in there too so watch out for that

A/N: This is purely because of this line in Need to Know by Doja Cat - it’s so much fun to scream in your car at a red light, you get the funniest looks (also we stan asexual/aromantic king William Calthorpe in this household - you’ll get it when you read)

“You really should come to one of Granville’s parties. They’re wonderful fun.” Genevieve says as she kisses your shoulder.

You wouldn’t mind in all honesty, Gen had told you about them before. Plus you enjoyed your trysts with her so much that you’re certain it would be great.

“That artist you’re so obsessed with was there the other night.” She smiles, knowing she’s hooked you.

You turn to face her, “Benedict?”

“Who else my love?”

You give a little hum of surprise.

“I introduced him to Mrs Granville that night, you know.” Genevieve closes her eyes, like she’s reminiscing about something. “He’s rather well-endowed. A ten out of ten in fact. And he’s very educated on female anatomy.”

“Is that so?” When she nods, you kiss her.

Seconds later, you find yourself on your back, your lover pressing kisses down your neck and chest.

“Well if just thinking about a night with him gets you so eager, I should try him out myself.” Your breath falters as you finish your sentence. Genevieve laughs softly before disappearing under the covers.

~*~*~*~*~

You’re a relatively close friend of Lady Danbury, she seemed to attract those with awful families. So by default, you were a close friend of Simon Basset and Anthony Bridgerton. This meant that you were invited to all of their soirées, your favourite being birthdays (they often get very rowdy and you tease them relentlessly for it).

This particular occasion is celebrating the birth of baby Edmund, Anthony’s first child with his very beautiful wife.

“Let’s hope he takes after Kate.” You joked when he showed off the baby’s sweet little cheeks.

“Very funny.”

“I know.”

You wander around after that, finding Lady Danbury with young Daphne Basset (née Bridgerton). The two are taking a turn about the room, Daphne clearly enjoying the company of her surrogate mother-in-law.

You join them, using the opportunity to find the Bridgerton that had been plaguing your dreams.

“How’s William?” Daphne asks.

“Still holding on.” Your husband is well in his 50s, and has been plagued with illness for most of his adult life.

“And what did the doctor say?” Daphne frowns with sympathy.

“He should get his affairs in order.” She rubs your hand where it sits in the crook of her arm.

“I will help you once it happens, dear one.” Lady Danbury smiles, empathy swelling in her eyes.

You respond with your own smile, but it’s not genuine. While you did not love your husband like you should, he is a very dear friend to you.

You finally spot Benedict speaking with the Granvilles and Lord Wetherby. You take your leave from the women, Lady Danbury winking while Daphne looks on, confused.

Lucy notices you first, stepping away from her husband to greet you with a kiss on your cheek.

“Y/N Calthorpe, now you are a sight for sore eyes.” Henry’s warm voice never fails to make you smile.

“It’s wonderful to see you all.” You embrace Sir Granville and Lord Wetherby. “Who’s your friend?” You do a very obvious scan of his body, lingering on his chest and broad shoulders.

Henry stifles a laugh at your flirtatious tone, Genevieve had told Lucy about your crush on the blue-eyed artist and in turn she told her husband.

“Benedict Bridgerton.” The man presses a lingering kiss to your hand, maintaining his intense eye contact. You can’t help but imagine what those lips would feel like elsewhere. His voice is low as he asks, “Have we met before?”

“I’m a friend of Anthony’s.”

“Yes, you're the one... married to Lord Calthorpe.” His confidence falters. Oh no, the sweet man thinks he's done something wrong.

You give him a quizzical look. Honestly, how can he be friends with Sir Granville and not understand that sometimes marriage is only a necessity?

Lucy wraps her arm around yours, “No need to look so terrified. They have a similar arrangement to Henry and I.”

The tall man tries to hide his sigh of relief but you’re not blind. He was clearly a little attracted to you, if not as much as you were to him.

“Would you like to dance, Benedict?”

~*~*~*~*~

The dance is between pairs thankfully, allowing you to get as close as society deems you can be. It also means you can at least explain yourself to the man you fancy.

“It was arranged by my father.”

“Hmm?”

“My marriage to Lord Calthorpe.” You smile sadly. “My father was a cruel man who saw William as a way for me to no longer be a disappointment.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m an only child, and so an only daughter. My father’s name ends with him.”

“Oh.”

“He’s always wanted sons, so my very birth was disappointing. My mother passed before they could have more children. And so my father's final vindictive act before he died was to marry me off to a rich old man he thought he could swindle.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” It doesn’t feel empty coming from him, you can see in his face, he genuinely means what he says.

“It’s not your fault. In any case, my father died soon after the wedding, and I've been incredibly lucky with Lord Calthorpe. He’s never been interested in anyone, romantically or otherwise.”

The music ends but you find you don't want to separate from Benedict.

You walk arm in arm, hoping to spend as much time as you can together, “William is one of my dearest friends now, and I love him as such.”

Benedict clears his throat, “I hope I’m not being too forward in asking this, but may I see you again soon?”

You were hoping he'd ask, “Blackstone Hall, tonight. A housemaid will leave the kitchen doors open for you.”

He kisses your hand and your breath catches in your throat.

As you walk away, Lucy teases the young man, "So when's the wedding?"

Your heart clenches with anticipation for the evening ahead of you.

~*~*~*~*~

A few days later, you read Lady Whistledown over breakfast. You rather enjoy the woman’s wit, even if she can be too nosy for your liking.

William takes a deep breath through his nose, “Little one, I would like to talk to you about something.”

You frown, folding the paper gently, “Yes, darling.”

“I feel… There’s something… I just wanted to tell you that I approve of a relationship between you and young Benedict Bridgerton.”

“Is something wrong? What did the doctor say this morning?”

“No, no dear one.” He coughs into a handkerchief, “I’ve just heard you speak of this Benedict before, and I hope you know that I want you to be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”

Tears well in your eyes. You truly loved the man before you. Not romantically, that was never going to happen. But you were incredibly thankful for his kindness and friendship.

You step around the table, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. You’re still worried about him, but when he leans his head into your hip, you cannot help but feel reassured.

“I love you, William.”

“And I love you, little one.”

“Is there anything you need from me?” You watch his face for any changes, any sign he needs you to stay. There’s nothing.

“Well if you’re certain, I would like to visit Genevieve today, I’ll be back for dinner.” You kiss his head and move off, grabbing a maid to help you get ready.

You miss the sad little smile on your husband’s face as he calls for you to “enjoy yourself.”

~*~*~*~*~

“You were right. Ten out of ten.” You can’t keep the grin from your face. And the modiste can’t help but notice your lovestruck eyes. You lower your voice, “Like, are we certain he’s just an artist? I mean those arms.”

Genevieve laughs brightly and continues to fold some material, attempting to look hard at work, “Are you going to tell William?”

“I already have.”

“And?”

“He’s given me his blessing.” You can’t bring yourself to tell her about the rest of the conversation with your husband.

“Oh my love that’s wonderful!” She hugs you tightly, and when she pulls away, she runs her hands down your arms. She smiles mischievously, intertwining your fingers. “I can close the store for a short while. Anything longer than that will have to be without me.”

You’re a little confused but you tease, “I think I can manage.”

You kiss her cheek and head to her room. Laying in her bed, much to your surprise, is the man of the hour. Covered only by a single white sheet.

You clear your throat, “Well now this is something I could get used to.”

He sits up, “I was hoping you’d come up here.” It looks like he’s about to get up so you move quickly, straddling his waist. He wraps his arms your waist. “Genevieve told me you would probably visit today, and we could have some tea together.”

“Oh, tea is it?” You smile. There’s something under the sheet that would suggest otherwise.

You kiss him and when he pulls away, the sweetest flush has bloomed on his cheeks. “I hope it’ll be a little more than just tea, dear Benny.”

“Started without me?” Genevieve jokes as she closes the door behind her, locking it just in case.

“Of course, I’ve been waiting for this all morning.” Benedict can’t look away from you. You tap his cheek lightly, then reach a hand out to Genevieve.

“Let’s enjoy some tea then shall we?”

[make-me-imagine]

Hearts Divided: Chapter Two - Reunited Hearts

Chapter Description: Now back in to London, Y/n awaits the moment they might once again see the Bridgerton family and in particular, Benedict. After making the acquaintance of Sir Granville and his wife Lucy, Y/n is unaware of just how close they are to seeing their long lost friend again.

Chapter One: A Bitter Separation Chapter Three: Resentment

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x GN!Reader

Warnings: None!

Words: 4.4k

-

Though you had spent eleven years of your life in London, the city seemed new and unfamiliar. As you rode through the once familiar streets, your eyes scanned all the familiar shops, as well as all the new ones. Your mother noted the ones she wished to stop into, as your father and brother discussed something quietly.

Your sister stared agape out the carriage window, even more excited than your mother. She had only been six when you had left London, so it was now even more unfamiliar to her. 

Your heart seemed to be in such a flutter, that you could not focus on anything anyone was saying, you only wished to be walking around the city again. Mostly in hopes of running into familiar faces. So, not long after you made a tour of your rented home for the summer, you were happy when your mother took you and your sister into the city to order some clothes for the upcoming ball. 

As you turned into a nearby shop, you noted it was called The Modiste. You looked around at the fabric that layered the walls, as your mother began to talk to the dressmaker.

As you admired a long soft lilac ribbon, a soft voice spoke from beside you, “Beautiful isn’t it?” 

You looked over to see a woman with dark skin and a kind face. You smiled at her. “Yes, very.“

She smiled at you before talking softly. “I apologize if this is forward, but I do not recognize you. And I do love a change in face. I am Lucy Granville. And this-” She motioned for a man, who was standing nearby. “Is my husband Sir Henry Granville.” 

You smiled at both of them and curtsied potielty. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both. I am Y/L L/n.” 

You saw recognition cross their face, as Sir Granville spoke. “Ah, I have had the pleasure of meeting your father. Though it was some years ago.” You could hear the restraint in his voice, as he seemed suddenly regretful of the introduction. 

“I recall him having spoken of you when I was a child.” You noted with a smile.

Your father did speak of him often, but usually in a tone of disdain. Though you knew it was only because your father never did appreciate an artist's mind or career. 

Sir Granviell forced a smile. “I am glad to have had a memorable impression. I must say, it was quite a shock to everyone when your family left so suddenly.” 

“Yes.” You spoke softly. “It was quite a shock to me as well.” 

They shared a look before looking back at you. “Your family has been missed in the city, I am glad to know you have returned.” 

You could sense something in his voice that showed he was forcing his happiness at the news. You smirked ever so slightly and spoke softly. “Do not worry yourself Sir Granville, you need not lie to me. I am sure people are more alarmed at our return, than they are pleased.” 

Neither Sir Granville or his wife could hide their shock and amusement at your comment as they suppressed surprised smiles. 

You continued, “And might I say Sir Granville, that I had the pleasure of seeing some of your art work when I was last in London. Though my father could not appreciate it as he should, I am glad to note I have always had an appreciation of art, which he himself has never been blessed with.” 

Sir Granville let out a soft surprised laugh, as Mrs. Granville grinned at you. “Thank you very much for the kind compliment. It is true, your father never seemed to enjoy my art, or any art in general.” 

He shared a look with his wife. “May I ask how long you and your family are in the city?” 

“Only for the season.” You noted, and the regret behind it was obvious to them. 

“Well, I hope that while you are in town, you will honor us by accepting an invitation to one of our dinner parties.”

Surprise crossed your face for a moment as you considered what he said. “I am gratified at your kindness, but I would not wish to force my family's presence on you.” 

“Oh no, you misunderstand.” Lucy Granviell began in a soft voice. “The invitation is solely for you.” She winked at you and you cocked your head slightly. There seemed to be something behind her voice that expressed, this was not any ordinary dinner party. 

You glanced at your mother and sister across the shop, who was so busy discussing dresses with Madame Delacroix that she had not once looked over at you.

You smiled at the couple and curtsied. “Then, I would be honored.”

“Wonderful.” Sir Granville smiled. 

After giving you their address and the time of their next dinner party, they left the shop with smiles and kind comments. And you were left with wonder and excitement. You managed to befriend some of your fathers most despised people. And you loved it. 

But now, you must think of an excuse to get away from home to attend their party. Remembering some old friends that moved to London about five years ago were still in town, you decided you would excuse calling on them.  

Your thoughts were interrupted as your mother called you over, telling you it was time to leave. Dinner would be served soon, and you must return quickly. As you walked back out onto the streets of London, your eyes passed over every face, as you desired to recognize someone. As your eyes passed over the familiar face of Lady Portia Featherington across the road, you felt a jolt of excitement. 

She was not who you first wanted to see, nor who you really cared to see, but at least she was someone you knew. As you saw her face change from curiosity to recognition, you saw as she began to rush down the street, before whispering to a group of women. You glanced at your mother, who seemed so preoccupied with which store to go in, she did not seem to notice.

You felt your heart begin to hammer in your chest. It would not be long before everyone knew of your return. You wondered how people would react, but most importantly, how would the Bridgertons react? 

The next morning, as the Bridgertons sat around the breakfast table, Eloise read over the most recent Lady Whistledown. She knit her brows in deep thought as she read over the name of a family who had recently returned to London. She recognized the name but was not sure from where. 

Speaking up, she called out across the table. “Who are the L/n’s?”

Violet, Benedict and Anthony all stopped and looked up. Collin squinted in thought, as Francesca, Gregory, and Hyacinths starred in uncertainty. 

“What?” Violet asked, with a tone of confusion as she glanced at Benedict who had a look of confused alarm. 

“The L/n’s. Apparently they have returned to London. I have a faint recognition of the name, but apparently it’s very important.” 

Benedict reached across the table and tore the paper from Eloise’s hand, who responded with a startled gasp. 

Benedict read over the words with intent before he looked at his mother. “She’s right. They’re back. Lady L/n was seen exiting the Modiste yesterday evening with two of her children.” 

Violet swallowed and was lost in deep thought for a moment, as Anthony watched Benedict closely. Benedict felt his heart hammering in his chest as the only thing that ran through his mind was you. 

“So? Who are they?” Eloise asked incredulously.

Violet was shaken from her thoughts at Eloise’s question. “Oh. Well. The L/n were close friends of ours. Their second born, Y/n was, well-” 

She looked at Benedict who bit his lip a bit and broke in as he looked at Eloise. “My closest friend.” 

Eloise looked at him in surprise, as her mother spoke again.”Yes. Y/n was very special to all of us, often me and your father saw Y/n as another of our own children. You were only two years old when…”

“When what?” 

“Well.” Violet began, unsure of how to say it. “Something occurred between Charles L/n, and your father. A fight of sorts, that ended the relationship between our families. Not long later, the L/n family moved away from London.” 

“What kind of fight?” 

“We don’t know.” Anthony finally broke in. “Father never told us.” 

“I remember Y/n!” Collin broke in as he looked at Benedict. “You and Y/n used to pull me around the house on a rug!” 

Benedict smiled at the thought and nodded. “I wonder what Y/n’s like now.” He said as he looked at his mother.

She smiled softly and Anthony spoke. “Hopefully still nothing like the rest of their family.” 

Eloise frowned, still unsure of what to think. “Well, it says they are back for the season, so maybe you’ll get to see them?”

Violet and Anthony shared an anxious look as Benedict looked back at the paper, reading over it once more. He really did wonder what you were like now. Did you adopt your fathers disdain for the family? Did you miss them? Would you even remember him? 

Benedict’s thoughts were full of you all throughout the day. When he went to town he looked around with hopes of seeing your face. It wasn’t too long later that he realized he might not even recognize you. It had been over ten years since he last saw you, you might look like a completely different person. 

As he headed to Sir Granvilles house, you remained present in the back of his mind. Wondering if he would see you at the next ball, and what he would do if he did.

As you entered the Granville home, you were shocked to find no evidence of a dinner party at all, but a bustling party of a different sort. Lucy walked you around the house, as you watched in awe at the variety of activities. Gambling, card-games, artists painting nude models, people in the corners kissing and embracing. Others were drinking and smoking heavily around the house. 

Your heart was hammering as you realized what sort of society the Granvilles encouraged. But you were not disgusted or afraid, you were intrigued, and for the first time in a long time, felt as though you did not need to hide your emotions behind a polite and emotionless gaze. 

“So, what do you think?” Lucy asked curiously as she watched you stare agape at your surroundings. 

“I think if I had misunderstood your invitation, and brought my family with me, they would have dropped dead immediately.” 

Lucy giggled a bit as she took your arm in hers and showed you the refreshment table. “Get yourself a drink, and then go ahead and mingle. If you find yourself too overwhelmed, come and find me.”

You smiled in thanks at her as she walked away from you. You already felt overwhelmed, but decided to embrace it. This was all new and exciting, and you had no desire to run from it. The season was upon you and you knew of the unpleasantness that was meant for you in the weeks ahead. So, you knew you might as well embrace what excitement found its way to you. 

Taking a drink of your choice, you began to look around at the people. Some met your eyes and smiled, a mixture of politeness and flirtatiousness from various people. You gulped as you avoided the eye contact that seemed to be inviting more attention than you were ready for. 

Looking around another part of the house, your ears caught on Sir Granville as he saw someone enter into the house. “Bridgerton!” He called with a grin, and you felt your heart stop. 

‘Bridgerton? Which one?’ You stared at the entrance, and saw whoever he was talking to was hidden behind a small group of people. You moved your head to attempt to see around them, your mind racing and stomach clenching. 

As Sir Granville began to walk into the opposite part of the room with the Bridgerton, you caught a glimpse of their profile. Was it Anthony or Benedict? Seeing a smile spread across their face, you felt your heart flutter in recognition.

“Benedict.” You muttered softly under your breath. Your heart began to race as familiarity and nostalgia rushed over you.

You saw his profile as he disappeared into the other room, and you couldn’t help but notice how handsome he had grown. Though you were not surprised. They were always considered to be a very attractive family. 

Without thinking, you found yourself walking through the crowd into the same room he had gone into. Your eyes searched the crowd for him, but you felt disheartened when you did not see him. You let out a disappointed sigh before you turned. As you did, your shoulder bumped someone behind you. 

“Oh, my apologies!.” You said in quick reply, as the person turned around.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you found yourself face to face with Benedict.

He smiled politely at you. “No, please, pardon me.” 

He could see the surprise and hesitance in your face, and thought you must know who he was. Studying you a little further, he found not only that he thought you very attractive, but that he recognized you, but he was unsure from where.

“I’m sorry, do I know you? You seem familiar.” 

You opened your mouth, but found yourself unable to speak. He was much more attractive up close, and you found yourself afraid to tell him who you were. He cocked his head slightly, wondering at your behavior, and why you seemed to be so shocked. 

“Ah, there you are.” Lucy’s voice seemed to break you from your thoughts as she appeared beside you. She had known of a past relationship between your two families and was glad to see you reunited. “Mr. Bridgerton, I see you have reunited with a friend.” She smiled at you.

Benedict became even more curious at this comment. “Have I? I did feel as though we had met before, but I am having trouble placing where and when.” 

Finally finding somewhat of a voice, you spoke softly. “We did know each other. But it was many years ago.” 

You saw Benedict’s face slowly change from curiosity to realization, as he heard your soft voice that seemed to rocket forward so many memories he seemed to have forgotten. 

As his mouth fell open in surprise, Lucy smiled “I will leave you two alone.” Before walking away. 

“Y/n?” He asked with a tone of shock. 

You nodded your head and smiled shyly. “Hello Benedict.” 

He let out an incredulous laugh, and suddenly taking you by surprise grabbed you and pulled you into a tight hug. Letting out a surprised laugh you hugged him in return before he pulled away. He left his hands on the side of your arms, and had a grin on his face.

“I had heard your family returned, but I had no idea when or if I would see you.” 

“Yes, I was unsure if I would see any of you as well.” 

Memories of why you had left flooded his mind suddenly as he looked around. “Come, let’s go somewhere else to talk.” You felt a rush of heat rise up your neck as his hand slipped into yours as he pulled you through the crowded room. 

Following him through the crowd, you eventually found a deep window sill to sit on. As you sat you began to tell each other how you had been doing, and not long later, you felt as though you were no longer strangers. As though you had never been at all. 

“Oh, Benedict.” You suddenly said as you placed your hand on top of his. “I was so heartbroken to hear about your father’s passing. I wished so badly to come back.” 

He smiled sadly, “It was hard for all of us. It would have made it easier if you were there too. I’m sorry you were unable to be there.” 

You frowned and asked cautiously. “Did he ever…tell you what happened, between our fathers?” 

Benedict shook his head, “Never. It died with him. Did your father…?” 

You shook your head. “No. I still have no idea what happened. But, he still seems to hold that horrible bitterness.” You looked down, ashamed of him.

Benedict watched you closely. You were still the same, kind, patient, loving. But you had grown into your looks, and had become more attractive than anyone else in your family, or at least, he assumed so. 

Before he could say anything, the two of you were interrupted by Sir Granvilles approach. He smiled at the two of you, “There you are Bridgerton, I thought I would find you painting.” 

“Painting?” You asked with growing curiosity. 

Benedict smiled a bit coyly as you smiled at him. He remembered the two of you often sneaking each other drawings or paintings you had made for each other. “Oh yes, he is quite the artist. Some of his work is in the show room, if you’d like to see it.” 

You sat up with excitement and Benedict fumbled out, “Oh, no, no, it’s not finished.” 

“Oh who cares Ben!” You said quickly, “Unfinished or not, I want to see how you’ve improved since we were children.” 

Standing up, Sir Granville led you away as Benedict followed you with his eyes, and a soft smile. The way his heart leapt when you called him ‘Ben’ sent him back in time. You two had been so close, and just before you had been taken away from him, he had found himself feeling more for you than he could understand back then. But now he did. He knew exactly what he was beginning to feel, and he knew exactly what was returning. 

Following you into the showroom, he entered to find Sir Granville pulling out his unfinished paintings from the drawer. He watched as your face changed as you admired what he painted. Looking up, you caught his eye and smiled. As he approached you spoke with admiration. “These are wonderful Benedict.” You complimented.

He smiled a bit awkwardly and looked at Granville who was smirking. “Thank you. I am still learning the technique though.” 

“Artists are always still learning.” You muttered and Granville hummed with a pleasant surprise. 

“Very true. Do you paint Mx. L/n?” 

You smiled shyly. “I love to, but-” You spared a glance at Benedict. “My parents insist I use my time “more wisely”, but I paint or draw in secret whenever I get the chance.”

“Well, you have the freedom to do as much as either as long as you are here.” Granville said with a smile, which you returned. 

“I believe I will take you up on that.” 

Not too long later, you and Benedict were sat side by side, easel, and canvas at the ready, as you both began to sketch the likeness of the model before you. You smiled as you began to sketch, and Benedict, stealing a glance of you every few minutes, admired the grace of your hands as you drew. 

As you talked some more of your lives, Benedict broke in with a suggestion that excited him. “You must come by and see the rest of the family!”

You felt a jolt of excitement at the idea, but it was immediately followed by fear. Benedict could see this on your face and frowned a bit. “Don’t you think you could sneak away?” 

You thought for a moment. “If they find out, they will be so angry, they might send me away from London.” You muttered softly, but feeling a resolution take over you looked at him. “But I want to see them. So I will.”

He smiled at the determination in your voice, and you both began to compile a plan so you could show up to see them. 

The next morning, you dressed quickly, anxiety rushing through you. You thought back on the previous night with Benedict, and how happy you had been with him, and how sad you were to leave. But now, as you got ready to go see the rest of the family, you felt your stomach clench in suspense.

You convinced your father to let you go out for the morning, to go shopping around town as well as to admire the view. He was hard to convince, as you could sense the suspicion in his gaze and his questions. But he finally gave in when he received an invitation himself to go see some old colleagues. 

You knew the visit could not be long, for fear of making the rest of them suspicious as well. Quickly leaving the house after breakfast, you made sure to go the opposite direction of where their home was, before taking a distant route back. 

Benedict stared at the clock in impatience. The family had just finished breakfast and were now sitting around the family room deciding what to do for the day. Daphne had arrived the evening before to visit for the weekend, everyone was home, and he knew it could not be more perfect. He knew that only a few of them would remember you, but he wanted you to feel welcomed back, so that you did not doubt you had been missed all these years. 

As he heard a knock on the door, he jumped up from his seat, “I’ll get it.” He said as he fled the room, leaving the others to look around at each other in confusion. 

“Did anyone else think that was odd?” Eloise asked as she looked around, gaining the nods of everyone else. 

A few moments later, Benedict walked back into the room and cleared his throat. “We have a visitor.” He spoke with a coy smile and everyone stared in wonder.

Opening the door, you stepped into the room with a shy demeanor, and a polite smile. Violet, who, unlike Benedict, knew your face immediately, stood with a gasp. “Y/n!” She said with pleasant surprise as you smiled back at her. “Hello Vi-, Mrs. Bridgerton.” 

Approaching you quickly she hugged you, and smiled gladly at you. Anthony stood with a smile, as Daphne stared in surprised wonder. Colin himself smiled and looked at the younger children who looked curiously on.

“I’m sorry to come uninvited, but I very much wanted to see you all.” You said politely.

“Oh, never apologize Y/n.” Violet spoke softly. “No matter what happened in the past, you are still more than welcome here anytime.” 

You smiled fondly at her, and pushed down the emotions you were feeling overwhelmed by. You looked behind Violet as Anthoy approached with a smile. 

“Hello Anthony.” You said happily as he stopped in front of you. 

He took your hand in his, patting it fondly. “It’s wonderful to see you again Y/n.” 

Next, Collin and Daphne approached, who you were more surprised to see all grown up. And Daphne, who was clearly pregnant, made you feel as though you had aged an eternity. You greeted them, and were surprised to find that they remembered you. Next you were introduced to the rest of the children, Eloise being the only one you had known of before. 

After the introductions, you sat around and talked with them for a while, learning of the past years of their lives, along with Daphne’s marriage to the Duke, and their expected child. 

Violet was pleased to find you still as pleasant and kind as you had once been, and that you had grown into the attractive, polite, and mature adult that both she and Edmud had known you would. For years she was afraid that you would adopt the hatred your father held for them. And though she was sad to learn that your father still held on strong to the mysterious resentment, and that your sibling grew to accept it, along with your mother, she was more than happy to know you never gave in. 

When you were resolved to leave, afraid you had been gone too long, you said goodbye to them all. You would all be attending the upcoming ball the next evening, and were sure you’d see each other there. Though you had a feeling, with your father’s presence, it would only end in displeasure. 

Violet, upon walking you to the door, invited you to come back whenever you could. At the door, you smiled sadly at her, “I know it is late to give you my condolences, but I just wanted to tell you how sad I was to hear of Mr. Bridgertons passing, and how much I wish I had been here. I wish I had the chance to see him one more time.” 

Violet held a melancholy smile. “I am sure he would be very proud of how wonderfully you turned out. And I only wish he could see you again. And I must say, I am so sorry we could not do anything to stop you from being taken from your home so abruptly.” 

You thanked her, and hugged briefly before she escorted you out, reminding you once more that you were welcome to return any time. You left with a wave, and began to head back home. You felt such a sense of belonging that you had missed for so long, you wished desperately that you could stay. 

‘Perhaps father will marry me off to someone who lives in London. That way I would never have to leave again.’ The thought quickly filled you with repugnance, to marry a stranger solely to stay here filled you with horror. Before you could stop it, another thought popped into your head. ‘Unless it is not a stranger I marry.’ Following this thought, the image of Benedict passed through your mind. But just as quickly as it came, you shook the thought away. How had you so suddenly changed from thinking of him as a friend, to thinking of him as a future spouse? You laughed at yourself, but knew that underneath the refusal, it was not such an unpleasant idea, in fact, it seemed to feel you with a warmth you could not shake. 

xx End xx

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[redahlia-writes]

there was a star danced. | benedict bridgerton x oc (part 1)

part 2

Abstract: “Ah, brother!” he froze mid-step upon hearing Colin’s voice. “There you are, I want to introduce you to someone,” he announced, a smile in his words that Benedict knew meant nothing good.

He turned, the accusation ready on the tip of his tongue, but instead of seeing his brother’s face, he was met with another set of bright green eyes, the delicate set of a full mouth, and a black pendant resting in the hollow of the throat of the woman in front of him.

She had told him that eyes could tell a great deal about someone, and in her eyes he saw - nothing. No flicker of recognition, nor anticipation, nor the attention he’d noticed she paid to her subjects. Her face was the perfect picture of composure as she curtsied in front of him.

“You?” he would’ve believed he’d thought the question only if not for Colin’s shift in expression - his mischievous grin shifted, leaving him into a blinking confusion. “You’ve met already?” he asked, perplexed, looking from his brother to the woman at his side.

Words: 7.8K / 15.3K

Warnings: unedited —  historical inaccuracies as always, some suggestive language but nothing to explicit (part 2 will have a quick, literally the quickest nsfw scene you’ve ever seen)

A/N: don’t mind me as i pour a little bit of my gender into a made up character put into a different time period

also on AO3  - masterlist

Sir Henry Granville’s parties were where Benedict Bridgerton could be fully himself.

He could be with whom he wished to, drink and smoke however he pleased, draw with no one to judge him for it. He could also observe the other guests, admire the multitude of people that each night presented - the men and women and all that fell somewhere around that in extravagant clothes or no clothes at all, with the strict rules of society left outside the door upon entering.

Each night he found someone new, someone more - and each night he’d noticed her, too. She was always there when he was, her auburn hair left undone falling in long waves over her shoulders, above her chest as she leaned forward, closer to the canvas she worked this time or that time - wearing men’s clothes. Truly, if not for her hair and the soft shape of her chest, he would’ve thought her to be just another of the many men artists Sir Granville hosted, and probably wouldn’t have spared her a second glance.

Instead, he felt enthralled each time, often distracted from his own work to watch her draw and paint, a serene expression across her face, a cigarette hanging from her lips or a glass in her hand unoccupied by this brush or that pencil. She seemed to know everyone, often stopping a few instants to smile at whoever greeted her, but to not entertain anyone for longer than mere minutes, too entrapped in her own work.

He’d tried to ask Henry about her, or Lucy, but they’d just smiled and shook their heads, not giving him an answer to his who is that woman? So he did the next best thing he could think of, and one night settled his canvas at her side. She did not pay him any mind at first - the room was always full, oftentimes people would sit by her and not utter a single word. He wondered if he was truly that discreet she did not notice him looking at her, or if she was simply used to people doing so.

Up close she was breathtaking. It was not only her aspect - though she had the loveliest of faces, with sharp green eyes and long lashes and a full mouth - but simply her being. There was something enchanting in her attitude, her posture, the way she held herself and her movements, quick and precise strokes across canvases or sketchbooks placed on her lap.

“I do not believe I ever saw someone capture the look in someone’s eyes with such precision,” he murmured, leaning towards her. “That is because whenever a model takes their clothes off, people forget to notice the rest of them,” she retorted without stopping her work. “Eyes can tell a lot about others.”

“And what do his tell?” he inquired, gesturing vaguely towards the model at the centre of the room. He was a young, thin man, a curly-haired Apollo that leaned in his seat gracefully, head tilted back and gaze cast towards the woman at Benedict’s side - he couldn’t help but wonder whether she was just in his line of sight or if, much like him, he felt himself pulled towards her. “That he drank too much of Henry’s good liquor,” she replied, almost flatly.

Benedict’s laughter made her stop, hand stilling above the page as she straightened her back and, ever so slowly, turned her head towards him. Her gaze was piercing, both curious and perplexed by the sound that escaped his mouth. She ran her eyes across his face - for some reason, he felt like she wasn’t just looking at him, rather studying him as if he were a subject for a painting. Or perhaps for an experiment.

“What about my eyes?” he wondered, tilting his head to one side curiously, shooting her a grin. Her eyebrows arched carefully as she leaned back against her chair, draping an arm over its back as she met his gaze.

With the movement, the collar of her shirt opened slightly, revealing the skin of her throat and chest, and a cameo that rested in the hollow of her neck, black pendant in stark contrast with her skin. As she sat back, she crossed her ankle over her knee, in a stance that would have had his mother and all his sister possibly faint. It awoke in him the sudden need to paint her, draw the harsh lines of her stance and soft curves of her body.

“That you drank Henry’s bad liquor,” her voice roused him, and he forced his eyes back towards hers. “And that you’re not really supposed to be here, Lord -” she let the sentence trail, expectant. “Bridgerton,” he offered. A look flashed across her face, too quickly for him to name it. “Benedict Bridgerton. How can you be so sure I’m not a footman? A cook?”

The woman snorted, shaking her head, hair falling behind her back and curling over the backrest of the chair.

“Please,” she waved one hand dismissively. “No one with this attitude can be anything but of your lot.” “Attitude?” he chuckled, surprised. “Arrogance,” she offered, matter-of-factly.

“Bridgerton, are you bothering my guests?” Granville asked, walking up to them. “I believed you were here to create art, not to prevent others from doing it. Afraid of competition?” he stood at the woman’s side, resting a hand on her shoulder in a tender gesture. She reached up, tapping his knuckles as if in reassurance, a gentle smile on her lips as she looked up at him.

“You know society boys, Henry,” her voice seemed to have softened, and for a moment Benedict did not find it in himself to be offended. Granville laughed, squeezing her shoulder - there was an odd intimacy in their gestures, something he’d never seen before if not in married, enamoured couples. “Now, Sissi,” he chided, reaching up and pushing her hair back, tucking them behind her ear. “Don’t be cruel. Benedict is already ruthless enough with himself, you needn’t rub it in.”

She scoffed, and reached for his glass, taking it from his hand. She drank from it before placing it on her easel and, in one swift motion, got up. She was taller than he’d figured, almost as tall as Granville. “I shall take my leave,” she announced, though Benedict knew she was not paying him anymore mind. Instead, she leaned towards Granville and kissed his cheek. “Say hi to Wetherby and Lucy for me,” she then whispered to him, gently.

Only when she stepped outside of the room did Benedict realise he did not know her full name. And, for some reason, he knew that he would get nothing out of Henry, nor the other guests that seemed to know her.

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Eloise was nowhere to be seen, and Benedict was thinking of going away on his own - his sister would curse him for leaving her behind, but he could not stand another mama standing next to him talking about her daughter. Colin had given up already, asking the first woman he crossed paths with for a dance, and then the next, and then the next; Benedict couldn’t see him, either, and the door on the other side of the ballroom seemed so incredibly inviting.

“Ah, brother!” he froze mid-step upon hearing Colin’s voice. “There you are, I want to introduce you to someone,” he announced, a smile in his words that Benedict knew meant nothing good.

He turned, the accusation ready on the tip of his tongue, but instead of seeing his brother’s face, he was met with another set of bright green eyes, the delicate set of a full mouth, and a black pendant resting in the hollow of the throat of the woman in front of him.

She had told him that eyes could tell a great deal about someone, and in her eyes he saw - nothing. No flicker of recognition, nor anticipation, nor the attention he’d noticed she paid to her subjects. Her face was the perfect picture of composure as she curtsied in front of him.

“You?” he would’ve believed he’d thought the question only if not for Colin’s shift in expression - his mischievous grin shifted, leaving him into a blinking confusion. “You’ve met already?” he asked, perplexed, looking from his brother to the woman at his side.

She looked so utterly different: her hair was tied up, uncovering her face, a few tight curls framing it, and the dress she wore - a velvety green gown - covered each part Benedict had studied with interest during his nights out. Mostly, there was nothing in her expression that reminded him of the woman sprawled on the seat, her eyes following the curves of a naked body with surgical precision. She looked - and he could almost not believe himself for thinking so - anonymous. When he’d first seen her, the world had stopped spinning for a few instant as he learned how to breathe again. Here, in this room, nothing about her seemed to be worthy of notice, and he could not understand why. She was beautiful, and yet she lacked something.

“As I told you before, Mr Bridgerton, you’re the first of your family I’ve had the pleasure to meet,” even her voice sounded different, each word perfectly adequate and plain as she addressed Colin. “Perhaps your brother has mistaken me for somebody else?” she suggested, turning her gaze upon him. “Beatrice Lovell, it’s an honour to make your acquaintance,” with that, she offered him a polite smile. “Yes,” Benedict cleared his throat, eyes darting to the pendant around her neck. “I must’ve,” he bowed, barely - perhaps he hoped that would elicit a reaction from her. It did not, it only had Colin frown deepen as his eyes darted once more between them.

“Miss Lovell and I,” he shook his head, as if emerging from a hazy vision, “were talking about Greece - she’s visited on several occasions, and brought back quite the array of artistic knowledge,” he smiled up at his brother, almost innocently, though Benedict knew better. “I believe the two of you have quite a lot in common and to discuss - perhaps during the next dance?”

Matchmaking. His brother was playing matchmaker. Whether he truly meant it or was simply toying with him, Benedict did not know - after all, after Anthony’s wedding, he was now the eldest of the available brothers.

“I don’t -” he started in a murmur. “Of course,” she retorted, and for an instant she seemed as imperious as the woman he saw during those murky nights. “Shall we, Mr -” just as she tilted her head towards him, a tornado of cream ribbons and skirts fell between them, grabbing the woman by the arm and pulling.

“Oh, Tris!” it was a young woman - Eloise’s age, perhaps, or younger - holding onto her while crying with delight. “Oh, I must tell you what happened,” she exclaimed, tugging her along. There was no surprise on the woman’s face as she looked down upon the girl, resting her own hand above hers and nodding along her string of words. As she was pulled away she glanced up, once, an almost apologetic look in her eyes - and directed it towards Colin. Her lips moved without sound and, at his side, Colin laughed.

“That must be her cousin - though maybe sister is more fitting,” at Benedict’s confused gaze, Colin grinned again - how he enjoyed playing with them all. “They were raised together by Miss Lovell’s parents. The poor thing lost her parents rather young.” “All this knowledge during a single dance?” Benedict scoffed, ignoring the pang of jealousy at the realisation that his brother had learned more of that woman during a night than he had been able to over months. Hell, he hadn’t even known her name before that moment - Beatrice, Tris, Sissi. “I say, brother, you truly amaze me.” “Two dances, actually,” Colin announced, rather proudly. “I was trying to avoid Lady Cowper, she took pity on me - she’s a rather captivating woman, don’t you think?”

An hour later, Benedict walked outside into the night after waiting for a chance to see her again, to be sure.

When she did not reappear - nor did her cousin - all he could do was step outside to get some air. And perhaps someone had been listening to his pleadings because, half-hidden by the darkness, there she stood in the gazebo, holding a cigarette to her mouth, head tipped back.

“You’re either a great actress or there’s someone out there in the city that looks an awful lot like you, Miss Lovell,” she did not seem startled, but her head turned around a little too quickly for it to seem a casual gesture. “Spare me one?” he asked then, gesturing towards the cigarette. Instead of reaching for another one, she held out her own to him. “Every woman is an actress, Mr Bridgerton,” she crossed her arms once he picked the cigarette from her fingers, taking half a step back. “It comes with having to deal with society boys?” he wondered, moving at her side. She scoffed, almost rolling her eyes. “Tell me, what’s the eldest daughter of such an esteemed couple, of such an important family, doing at Sir Henry Granville’s house?”

“No,” she said simply, plainly, with the same bite from that night he remembered. “No? ” he chuckled, perplexed and amused equally. “I will say this once, Mr Bridgerton,” as she spoke, she turned to him and took a step forward. She took the cigarette from his mouth, eyes not leaving his as she leaned in. “Do not sabotage my life by meddling with it.”

“And whose life would that be?” he wondered, grin not leaving his mouth. “Beatrice’s, Tris’, or Sissi’s?” “That,” she tipped her chin up, a stance of pride as her gaze hardened and she lowered her voice, “is none of your concern.” “My God,” he whispered, feeling himself draw closer. “You truly are fascinating.”

She said nothing. With her head held up, she flashed him a grin - and then walked away, smothering the cigarette under her foot.

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He often looked forward to his nights at Granville’s, but never more than that day.

He hadn’t been able to interact with Lovell’s family after the ball, but he’d been able to gather more information than those Colin had given him that same night - that the head of the family was a Baron and a scholar and he’d taught his daughter and niece (whom he referred to as adopted daughter, and so did everybody else) as if they were his male heirs, that their mother was more concerned with the youngest marriage because Beatrice, at seven-and-twenty, was still unmarried. She’d had more than one proposal ever since her first season, and while she was polite enough to entertain her suitors, she’d refused them all, more concerned with her cousin’s education and her well-being. And, Benedict knew, with her art.

No one of the ton knew what an accomplished artist she was - most people spoke of her with a certain pity in their voices: the poor, unmarried thing, no wonder her parents dote so much on the youngest. But Benedict had seen her paintings, her sketches, he’d even seen a sculpture Henry had said to be hers, and he believed that her parents would be fools not to appreciate the talent that lived under their roof.

When that night he arrived at Granville’s house, he did not even bother to pretend he was not looking for her. Back in her trousers, back in that setting, she looked every inch the siren he’d first met. Her hair was up this time, in a non-committal low bun held by a brush at the nape of her neck, and she was sitting on the floor to get a better view of the model’s face, a woman sitting with her head bowed down, wearing a peplos and a crown of flowers over her braided blonde hair.

“So my lot is your lot as well,” he said, settling on the chair at her side. A quick grin flashed on her lips, but once again she did not move her gaze from the model, tracing her cupid’s bow with a light hand. “Does that surprise you?” there was a drawl in her voice that made him wonder whether he was intoxicated or simply relaxed - so, so different from the lady at the ball. “A little,” he admitted, and she chuckled. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

Ever so slowly, she placed her pencil down and turned in his direction, head tilted back to look at him, those big, bright eyes reflecting the low lights of the room and luring him in. He bent forward, elbows resting on his knees - if he straightened his arm, he could touch her face, undo her hair. Instead, he let his eyes fall from her face to her necklace.

“Perhaps you haven’t been looking carefully enough,” she suggested, tilting her head. “I have,” he retorted, shaking his head just a little. “I’ve been looking for a while. But you -”

“There was a star danced, and under that was I born,” she got up - a single, fluid, elegant motion that forced Benedict to move back, tilting his head to keep holding her gaze. Then, she simply turned around and headed for the exit - he wasn’t sure whether she expected him to follow her, but he did not find it in himself to stay put. He trailed behind her like a lost puppy, watching the delicate bob of her hair as it threatened to come undone.

“Much Ado About Nothing,” he announced, reaching her side. His arm bumped with her shoulder, and he immediately felt the warmth of her skin underneath the flimsy shirt. It made him want to lock arms with her, wrap himself around her to keep the heath close.

“So there is more than just good looks in you, Bridgerton,” she looked at him from the corner of her eye, and Benedict realised she’d led them to Granville’s sitting room - one he had never been in. One where no one else was. He gave a quiet laugh, watching as she poured two glasses of amber liquid. “I’ll admit I owe my father this piece of knowledge,” glancing at the half-closed door, he stepped towards her. She offered the glass to him and then stepped back towards the closed window, leaning against the sill. “He would recite the entirety of Sigh No More often - it made me curious.”

When he looked back at her, she was studying him again. He wondered what she saw: there was no doubt in him that she had a peculiar way of viewing the world, of picking out details someone else would not notice. After a moment, she brought the glass to her mouth and took a long sip - he watched her throat bob, the pendant shifting almost imperceptibly.

“It’s Beatrice,” she said, after darting her tongue between her lips. “When I’m out there, I’m just Beatrice, or Miss Lovell, and I’m the spinster daughter of a Baron. Nothing more. Tris is for my family and friends.”

She was answering his questions - days after, but she was, words careful on the tip of her tongue. A peace offering. Tentatively, he took a step in her direction. “What about Sissi?” she shook her head at his quiet question, a tender smile blooming on her lips. “Henry is the only one who calls me that - he’s rather jealous of the nickname, too,” the last statement was almost a warning, and he gave a nod in understanding.

“And here?” he asked slowly, moving in front of her. Due to her slouched position, he had to bow his head while she had to crane her neck. She did not stop him as he reached for the brush still tucked in her hair, letting it loose behind her shoulders - all the while, she kept her eyes on him, one hand at her side and the other holding the glass to her chest. “Who are you playing here?”

Beatrice scoffed, and he ghosted the tip of his fingers over a lock of her hair. He wondered how far she would allow him to go, wondered what would happen if he bowed his head, tried to taste the rum on her lips.

“Lady Disdain,” the voice came from the door, and Benedict found himself quickly stepping aside and away from her. She did not seem to be surprised by the intrusion, nor bothered. “Or, as for now, late,” Granville clicked his watch open, closed, and gave her a pointed look. “Your carriage is awaiting, Cendrillon.” “You know you don’t have to keep doing this, Henry,” she pushed herself off the window and walked past Benedict, placing the glass on the desk as she reached for a top hat resting on a lamp he’d believed to be Henry’s. She wrapped her hair around her hand, slowly twisting it until she was able to tuck it in a bun underneath the hat.

“I wouldn’t have to if you did not get so lost in time,” he retorted, and grabbed a large coat off the back of the armchair by the bookshelves. “The last thing we need is to worry Irene again - the poor thing will go grey before her time if you spend another night outside,” as he spoke, he helped Beatrice inside the coat, tugging it close in front of her. There was something akin to paternal in Henry’s gestures, a protectiveness in his gaze as he touched his finger to her chin, giving her a quick smile. In return, she squeezed his hand and reached for the door - before turning fully, though, she glanced once in Benedict’s direction. “Run along,” Henry interjected and, without another word, she walked away.

Benedict stood there, the glass still in his hand and the brush tucked between his fingers, the feeling of her hair still against his skin. When Granville turned to look at him, he tensed. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, almost instinctively - in response, he flashed him a grin.

“What for?” he asked, walking to the desk and picking up Beatrice’s glass. Benedict did not know what to say - I’m sorry had seemed the right thing to blurt out underneath Henry’s gaze, but he wasn’t sure about what. He wasn’t even sure he was sorry at all. He wanted to be in that room with Beatrice, standing that close to her, even closer. “I’m not Sissi’s father, guardian nor master - and she’s perfectly capable of fending for herself, should she want to.” “I don’t find that hard to believe,” he scoffed lightly, lowering his gaze to his glass.

“However,” he tensed again, the graveness in Henry’s voice sending an alarm signal down his spine. “You are not to play games with her, Bridgerton. You want to have a little fun? There’s a house full of people for that,” he took a step forward, lifting the hand that still held the glass to point a finger in his direction. “Not her.”

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To his credit, Benedict did try. He tried to keep his distance and cast her out of his mind. But his mind was a traitorous thing, and she occupied it even more frequently. He’d find himself thinking about her eyes lifted up to him, studying each part of him, and the tip of her tongue wetting her lips quickly, and that necklace capturing his eyes, guiding his gaze down her skin.

“Isn’t that right, brother?” Eloise asked, clasping her hand around his wrist. His sister was looking up at him, an expectant look in her eyes. He blinked down at her a couple of times, perplexed, and Eloise frowned. “Were you even listening to me?” He did not have the heart to lie to Eloise, so he sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said, softly, fixing the circlet around her head that held her hair up in imitation of Joan of Arc’s. “What were you saying?”

“What has gotten into you?” she frowned, tugging gently onto his arm. “You’ve been so awfully distracted later, it’s like trying to talk with a tree,” he couldn’t help himself and laughed, shaking his head. “What you’re seeing, dear Eloise, is our brother in love,” Colin seemed to appear out of nowhere, a grin plastered on his lips as he offered the youngest Bridgerton a glass of lemonade. “Mama is looking for you both, you should not be hiding back here.”

“We’re not hiding,” Benedict argued, gesturing towards the table behind which they were standing. “We’re perfectly visible from the room.”

“Hold on a moment,” Eloise called, twisting so she was glancing at Colin. “Whatever are you talking about? With who?” she looked back at Benedict, eyes widening. “Not you, too!” she complained then, and Colin couldn’t hold back his laughter. “I’m not in love,” he scoffed, though a flash of auburn hair came to his mind. “And might I remind you you’re the one who introduced me to Miss Lovell?” as soon as the words left his mouth, Benedict realised his misstep, even more Colin’s grin started growing.

“That was easier than I expected it would be,” he chuckled, clapping his hands in delight. “So, you managed to speak with her after all? Or was it a coup de foudre?”

Yes. Neither. Both.

Whatever reply he could’ve given Colin - and he wouldn’t have made it polite - died on his lips as the doors opened. He would’ve lied if he’d said his position hadn’t been strategic: from their post, he could see everyone that walked in and out of the room, and he waited. He tried to keep his distance, certainly, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t look at her from afar.

Except now he knew, as soon as Beatrice stepped inside the hall, that he was a ruined man.

Dressed in white and gold, she was a vision to be reckoned with. Her hair had been curled and pinned up, a gold veil covering the locks and merging with the gold paint on her face. Her dress - a peplos that left her neck and arms uncovered, falling all the way to the ground - was all white, except for a wide strip of gold that went from her right shoulder to her left hip, decorated with painted particulars that resembled a snakeskin, and a face emerging in between the tiny details.

Beside him Eloise groaned, and Colin laughed again.

“Have some decency, brother,” she said, turning to gulp down her lemonade. “Yes, of course,” he hummed, not really hearing what she said. “Will you excuse me for a moment?” he added then, already walking around the table and towards her as if enchanted.

Beatrice’s arm was linked with a young woman’s at her side - Irene, he figured, wearing a ballerina dress that reached her mid-calf, a ribbon tied around her neck and a crown of pearls sitting over her simply-styled hair. The young woman was pretty, he could not deny it, and yet his gaze kept flicking back to his vision of white and gold all the way towards them.

“Tris, I’m not sure -” Irene was murmuring, head bent towards her cousin. “My darling, you’re alright,” Beatrice was reassuring her in a soft voice, softer than he’d ever heard, and then lifted her gaze towards Benedict. Unlike the previous ball, she did not pretend to not recognise him - and for just a moment, he could’ve sworn her lips had quivered in the beginning of a smile. “Come, I want to introduce you to someone,” she said then, stepping forward, her cousin tucked against her side.

“Miss Lovell,” he cleared his throat in greeting, and watched as Irene’s eyes widened looking up at him. “And you, my lady, must be Miss Irene Lovell,” a flicker of gratitude flashed in Beatrice’s eyes as he reached for Irene’s hand, waiting for her midway. He kissed the back of her hand - suddenly, he was a little more grateful for his mother’s lessons and scolding.

“Nene, this is Mr Benedict Bridgerton - he’s the eldest of our hostess,” he couldn’t help but notice. A flush took over Irene’s cheek as Beatrice smiled. “You know, the poor man you snatched a dance from last time,” she teased. “Apologies, my lord,” she was quick to say, bowing her head. “It was so incredibly late, and I -”

“Please, miss, there is no need to apologise,” he said with a benign smile, and her shoulders relaxed slightly. “However, if you so wish to make amends, you could allow me your first dance?” a surprised look crossed Beatrice’s face as he offered his hand once more to the youngest Lovell. Irene looked at him, then turned to his cousin who gave her a quick nod, letting go of her arm fully. “Of course, my lord,” Irene said then, a bright smile taking over her face.

By the time the dance started, Beatrice was nowhere to be seen.

“Why am I not surprised that you, of all people, found the private terrace?” he knew, before she turned, that she was smiling. He also knew there was a cigarette hanging from her lips, the smoke curling above her head as she tilted her head, glancing in his direction. The gold on her face captured the delicate light, and for a moment she seemed to glimmer of divine light. “I fear I’m not quite sure I’m aware of who you’re supposed to be,” he said, glancing down at her dress, then back at her face as he stepped at her side.

This was not one of Granville’s parties, he tried to remember - if someone found them there, together and alone, there would be consequences. A duel, or a marriage. She did not seem concerned with either of those as she flashed him a smile, holding the cigarette between the tip of her fingers, and in that instant she resembled so much the woman in front of the easel Benedict could’ve forgotten himself. He wondered: which one was a mask? He wondered: how easily did she slip in and out of her two lives?

“Athena,” she replied and, silently, offered the already lit cigarette to him. “Greek Goddess of wisdom and warfare,” she explained, and another grin crossed her face, her gold-painted lips. “I couldn’t bring a weapon without causing too much stir - I figured her aegis would work enough for those with an attentive eye,” he glanced down at the golden band that fell towards her hip, the bum of the cigarette warming his lips.

“That is her on your cameo, is she not?” his eyes followed the hollow of her throat, the black pendant half-hidden by the neckline of the costume. Beatrice nodded, trailing her index over the chainlet. “Yes - it was a gift from my uncle, Irene’s father,” she lowered her gaze towards the dark gardens, the corners of her mouth quivering lightly, unsure whether to bend in a fond smile or melancholic pout. “He gave it to me a month before his passing.”

There it was, another piece of her she was offering to him - of Beatrice, that is. Miss Lovell.

“Were you close?” he couldn’t help his curiosity. He wanted to know all about her, and more. Beatrice gave a quiet sigh, nodding again. “He and my father always made sure we had everything we would need,” she drummed the tip of her fingers against the bannister, tilting her head slightly to the side. “Irene does not remember much of those years, she was too young,” her cousin had been four at the death of her parents - six years her senior, Beatrice had been ten. “But I remember everything - every trip and book and gift. He was the one to first place a pencil in my hand and ask for a portrait,” her smile turned bittersweet.

“Is that why you wear it all the time?” he inquired, gently. He knew what it was like - losing someone who’d meant the world to you. He’d felt it, and he’d seen it in his family. “That, and it’s a reminder,” she shrugged lightly. “Athena is a controversial figure. She’s the Goddess of wisdom and craftsmanship, but she’s also associated with warfare, a characteristic inherently masculine. She’s protectrix of many cities, yet in the mythology she often disguised herself as a man - it’s where Henry got the idea for me,” she grinned again, and Benedict felt that same tug in his throat he always felt when she was in the same room as him. “There’s a duality in her that I cannot help but find appealing.”

“God, my sister would adore you,” he murmured and, caught by surprise, she chuckled, shaking her head. “How did you meet Granville?” he asked then, because he did not find it in himself to stop. Every piece of information he got on her left him longing for more.

She seemed to be pondering his question, unsure whether to give more of herself to him or turn around and walk back into the ballroom, where he couldn’t possibly look at her like that and ask these many questions.

“He’s been a family friend for a long time. I’m not sure when I first met him, but he made our favourite portrait when he was just getting started. And then he saw my paintings and asked me if I wanted more,” she glanced at him and laughed softly, shaking her head. “Do not look so surprised, I was not always this -” she grimaced, looking back towards the door that would lead them back to the ballroom. “Proper?” he offered with an amused smile, and she scoffed, though a smile made its way on her golden lips once more.

“I’m just glad this Lady Whistledown wasn’t around during my first years as a debutante,” she tipped her head back, eyes fluttering shut. “She would’ve torn me to shreds, and my family with me. Now the worst she could do is call me a spinster.” “Doesn’t that bother you? Apart from Eloise, every woman I’ve ever met dreads the thought being defined as such,” he frowned a little, and Beatrice’s shoulders shook with laughter. “There are worse things in life than that,” she said softly, then cleared her throat. “Plus, I was betrothed once - I can always use that as a shield, should I need it.”

The piece of newfound information sent Benedict’s brain in such a state of temporary confusion, he did not even ask how that would help against Lady Whistledown. “You were - what?” “My, Mr Bridgerton, do not use that tone - another lady might take offence,” as the apology rose to Benedict’s mouth, she turned to look at him. “To Lord Wetherby.” “You know of them?” he asked, a little puzzled - mostly by her seemingly being unaffected by it. But then again, there wasn’t much that seemed to truly affect her.

“I introduced them,” she retorted, and he leaned in, curious. “I knew Wetherby’s heart wasn’t truly in his courtship, but I didn’t mind, neither was mine - one day he was visiting me when Henry came by. That night I brought Wetherby with me to his studio.” “Wasn’t it too much of a hazard?” he realised that ever since walking out the door, Benedict had done nothing but ask her questions - but then again, she was answering them. Perhaps, he thought with a glimmer of hope, he could have this. Know her. Have her. Belong to her.

“Yes. But after so long in Henry’s circle, you start recognising the look in someone’s eyes,” she admitted, with no regret in her voice. “I even thought of marrying Wetherby - be his Lucy, you know. So they’d be more secure,” she added with a smile that did not reach her eyes. “But you didn’t,” he stated the obvious, because he could not pose another question. Still, she shook her head, gold shining in the moonlight.

“Henry is the closest thing I have to an older brother,” she murmured, gentle-voiced, and he was reminded of Granville’s words, the fierceness of the look in his eyes. “He wouldn’t allow it. He did not want me to sacrifice the possibility of marrying for love.” “Is that why you -” when he met her gaze, he knew there would be no more answers from her. Not on the topic, anyway. So he cleared his throat and leaned against the bannister. “Will you dance with me tonight?”

“I don’t dance, if I can avoid it,” she grinned again, moving back from his side. “You danced with Colin!” he protested, but felt his chest filled with mirth. “Your brother was in dire need of rescuing,” she retorted, fixing the sleeves of her dress as she stepped towards the entrance - then she paused, right before reaching the door. “Thank you - for dancing with Irene,” she loved her cousin dearly, he could tell.

“Of course,” he nodded, and then smiled again. “I will see you inside, Lady Disdain.”

Benedict Bridgerton danced with just one Miss Lovell that night. He dreamt of the other.

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He knew what love was, what it looked like.

He’d seen it in his parents, every day as he grew up, even after his father was gone. He’d seen it with his sister, Daphne, and the Duke, and their children. He’d seen it with his stubborn brother, Anthony, and the now Viscountess, the way she’d rendered him speechless, and brought the smile back to his face.

He’d never felt it before. He wasn’t sure why he knew this was it.

Benedict couldn’t tell the moment his desire to be with Beatrice had turned into something almost pure, when the thought of kissing her, long and breathless, had weaved itself with the desire to be the one to make her laugh, and smile. He had fallen in love with all facets of her - the Baron’s daughter and society lady, the gentle cousin that looked after Irene and encouraged her, the solitary artist.

Except she wasn’t solitary anymore - Benedict had tried, he really had, but he kept finding his way back to her side in Henry’s studio. It became a habit, sitting next to her, and while she painted the models, he painted her. Beatrice knew, she’d known since the first time, eyeing the canvas with a curious look in her eyes as she recognised her posture - legs parted as she leaned forward, hair falling past her shoulders in a long curtain that brushed her calves, the rolled up sleeves with a single stain of paint on one cuff. She’d smiled at him then, quick and amused, but said nothing and left him to his work.

And she unfolded herself to him, bit by bit, and so did he.

“What made you change your mind about me?” he asked her one evening, handing her a glass of Henry’s rum. That had her stop and frown lightly as she looked up at him. “What do you mean?” she wondered. Benedict reached over to rub a smear of charcoal off her cheek, then sat back down at her side.

“You know,” he shrugged, glancing at her finished sketch, “the whole society boys thing. Me, not being supposed to be here -” she snorted. “Truthfully, I just wanted to be left alone,” she leaned back, gathering her hair on her left shoulder. “Do you really believe no one ever used that line on me before?” she grinned then.

“It wasn’t a line,” he protested and, glass raised to her lips, she cocked an eyebrow in his direction, daring. He scoffed. “What about not sabotaging your life?”

“Is that what you’re planning on doing, Bridgerton?” the top of her tongue darted between her lips, eyes shimmering with amusement. “I had nothing against you to begin with - do not give me a reason now that I’m starting to like you.”

Now that I’m starting to like you.

Now that I’m starting to like you.

He thought about it for far too long, far too much. It distracted him, made his days agony to go through without stumbling or messing something up - he wondered how long before his family cussed him out once and for all. Besides Eloise, who already did.

“If you’re so keen on making a fool out of yourself for this woman, the least you could do is ask her to marry you!” she exclaimed one afternoon, making Colin almost choke on his tea. Benedict looked at her, baffled, as if the mere idea was fully out of touch with reality. “What? She’s the daughter of a Baron, is she not? She’s not betrothed, and you are acting like an idiot daily because of her. It’s not like you’re asking her to run away or whatever it is mamas are so terrified about.”

“For someone so bothered by her you certainly did your research,” Benedict scoffed, though an idea slowly started forming in his head. “I’m not bothered by her, I’m bothered by you behaving like a dunce,” she retorted, grimacing in his direction. “I actually believe she’s admirable.”

“Are you only saying that because she’s seven-and-twenty and unmarried?” Colin asked from the other side of the room. Eloise flashed a grin. “Precisely,” she announced, getting up. “So make it worth it for her.”

Make it worth it. Granville had told him to not play games - he understood that. He’d accepted that. He’d learned to behave accordingly. And marriage, for Benedict, was all but a game.

“Can you come with me for a while?” he leaned over her chair, hand ghosting her shoulders. “I just started this,” she replied in a hum, eyes fixed on her canvas. He sighed and took the brush right out of her hand, causing her to glare up at him.

“You’re by far the most prolific artist in this studio, you can afford to not start right this moment,” he placed his hand on her elbow, gently nudging her forward. “Please?” he added, leaning a little closer. It caught her by surprise - eyes widening ever so slightly, following the lines of his face as if she would find a sign of illness or intoxication. Truth be told, he had never been soberer.

“You are a nuisance, Bridgerton,” she muttered, then got up.

Beaming, Benedict wrapped his hand around her wrist and walked ahead of her, quickly making his way in between the drunk people and couples and lost new artists. It had not been just the two of them since the night of the masquerade ball - whether it was at social events or right there in the studio, they were always surrounded by other people. So when he closed the door of an empty room and turned the key, locking it effectively, she cocked an eyebrow in his direction, her hands now that she was free from his grip resting on her hips. Benedict glanced at the necklace, then back at her face.

“I just don’t want to be interrupted,” he justified himself, leaving it in the keyhole. He realised then, under her curious gaze, that he had no idea how to approach it. That he’d got so wrapped up in the idea, he had barely thought about the how. Get her alone n a room, and then?

Then he stepped in her direction, slowly and carefully - Beatrice did not move, her hands sliding down her sides as she tipped her chin up towards him. He parted his lips, watched as her eyes fell down to his mouth and stayed there.

“Yes?” she asked, voice low and firm. “Ah, Christ,” he hissed.

His good intentions slipped away as he lunged for her, just as she reached up to him. Holding her against him, the softness of her body pushing on him, he waited a moment longer - then she pulled him down, hands at each side of his face as she pressed her mouth against his, harsh and demanding. He heard himself groan as one arm slithered around her waist, the other hand burying itself through her hair - how long had he wished to do that, to feel the auburn slipping through his fingers. He gave it a gentle tug, and a strangled noise left her lips as she parted them for him. He felt himself crumble from within, fully at her mercy.

Benedict could taste the smoke on her mouth, pushing her back, back, back until she bumped into the desk. Her hands trailed down his neck, his chest, and through soft sighs she started unbuttoning his shirt, and when he leaned forward to pick her up, his hands on her thighs, she grabbed onto his shoulders. He sat her onto the desk and settled himself between her knees, fingers trailing up her thighs, her hips, her waist - he splayed one hand against the small of her back and pushed her flush against his body, her legs latching around him.

Tugging the collar of his shirt open, Beatrice was the first one to break the kiss, a quick gasp to regain her breath before she lowered her head to his chest, warm lips brushing his skin - he sighed, reaching up again to brush her hair back, running his fingers through the locks as she kissed up his neck, his jaw, the corner of his mouth. He shouldn’t have been surprised she knew what to do with him, how to render him putty in her hands. She’d spent enough time in the studio to have seen things that no other proper lady should witness, but he was also aware that if he let her have her way with him - and God, it was terribly tempting as her tongue brushed his skin - he would never say what he’d wanted to say.

“Will you marry me?” he asked, a whisper against her lips. Beatrice stilled. “What?” she pulled back, eyes widening. She let her legs drop at his sides. “Will you marry me, Beatrice?” he repeated, and she blinked up at him in surprise. He cleared his throat. “We can do things properly - I can call on you, and we can take strolls in the park, go where you want, anything that’s needed to -”

“No,” she blurted out, and she sounded almost offended. Benedict frowned, dropping the hand from behind her head.

“But - what?” he felt dizzy, as if he’d drank too much and got up too quickly. “I understand it’s hasty, but we can do things properly, and I’ll get you a ring, but -”

“It is not because of a bloody ring!” she exclaimed, and Benedict thought she sounded properly affronted. He could not, for the life of him, understand what had gone wrong. He could still feel her lips on his, on his skin, but the longer he looked at her wide eyes, the colder he grew. “You cannot - I’m not -” she groaned, frustrated, then pushed him back from her. He stumbled back easily, both stunned and deflated. “No,” she repeated, firmly.

Benedict felt rooted to the spot, his jaw sealed shut as he watched her get down from the desk and make her way around him. He could've stopped her, asked her an explanation, kissed her again. Instead, he stood perfectly still, listening to the key turn into the lock, and her steps receding as she left him there.

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- "there was a star danced, and under that was i born" from much ado about nothing (act 2, scene 1). the line is said by beatrice, one of the main characters. she ends up marrying benedick, another one of the main characters. yes the name choice was deliberate - "sigh no more" is balthazar's song in act 2, scene 3 of much ado about nothing. in the viscount who loved me it is said edmund bridgerton he could recite from memory the song "not because he thought it particularly meaningful but just because he liked it" - "lady disdain" in much ado about nothing, it's how benedick calls beatrice - "cendrillon" french name for cinderella - the aegis is a device carried by athena and/or zeus, variously interpreted as an animal skin or a shield and sometimes featuring the head of a gorgon

[1shot-wonder]

5 Times Colin Bridgerton Fell In Love and One Time He Did Something About it (Colin Bridgerton x Fem!OC

(GIF Credit to bridgertonland)

Okay, disclaimer: This is not an x reader. I’m sorry! I just really liked this 5 +1 idea but I couldn’t figure out how to make it work and I really really really just have baby boy on the brain. I will be adding the main three Bridgerton boys to the request list as well, but only for the show. Below the cut will be the summary and more info! Thank you so much for reading!

Masterlist

This fic takes place in the show timeline, not the books, since I am only two books in and also wanted to use the Marina plot. However this is an AU where Penelope is not in love with Colin. Takes place basically when S3 will be, during the marriage season following Kate and Anthony’s wedding.  This will actually be 14 parts. I cranked out a prologue and all six moments for Colin and intend to write the OC POV but it will take a while since I only got this out today bc it’s the holiday and therefore I did not have class.

Summary: After his heartbreak over Marina Thompson and a wonderful trip abroad, Colin Bridgerton is finally starting to get his feet back under him. And when a new lady debuts on the marriage market, he may be ready to give love another chance.

Warnings: One mention of parental death. Spoilers for Bridgerton on Netflix. But other than that, none. Fluffy fluff and just softness all around. I am a Benedict girly at heart (maybe. I say that, but I may be converted) but I do want to offer some love for this sweet boy.

Prologue:

Colin POV: Word Count 288

“Have you all heard the news?”

“Oh no.” Benedict groaned when Riley took his seat with the brothers at White’s. “I do not care about whatever gossip you have heard about the debutantes.”

“Not even that there is a new one?” Riley joked. “Present by one of your acquaintances from what I’ve heard. Sir Henry Granville and his wife’s new ward.” Benedict raised his eyebrow. 

“Alright. I’m listening.”

“Apparently her father was Sir Granville’s cousin, passed away last year. Bad heart.” Riley explained. “And her mother died of consumption when she was young. So they took her in. Her parents had been rearing her for the marriage mart. And now that the grieving period has ended…”

“The girl’s father passed away last year and now she’s being pushed into the marriage mart?” Benedict asked. “That doesn’t sound like the Granville’s.”

“The girl has already pushed her debut back quite a bit. I believe she is twenty.” Riley waved their shock away. “She can’t wait forever.”

“Kate was twenty-two.” Benedict pointed out. 

“Do not patronize me, Bridgerton, I know your brother did not exactly propose.”

“Anthony loves Kate. As do we, so watch your tongue.” Colin snapped. 

“Alright. Alright. The point still stands that twenty is older than average for a debut. Just as twenty-nine is a tad old for a proposal.” Benedict rolled his eyes. That was a no. He was grateful to Granville, but he did not think he could be a member of his family and not let something slip. Colin was the one who actually mustered up a response. 

“Thank you for the information, Riley. If our mother ever runs out of gossip with which to entertain us, we will know just where to go.

Cassidy (OC) POV: Word Count 382

“So.” Lucy smiled at Cassidy as they settled into the parlor. “It is time to discuss your desires before we go to tonight’s ball.”

“What do you mean?”

“I must know what men to steer you towards and away from.” Lucy explained. “So, I suppose my first question is this- do you desire a love match, or would you be content with a marriage of convenience, of friendship.”

“I- I would like to marry for love. If I can.” She admitted. “But why does that matter?”

“There are men who have no interest in such a match, and therefore they are not worth our time. And, of course, some men who can not give you that.” Cassidy nodded in understanding. They had revealed the nature of their marriage to her, not wanting any secrets between them. She had offered more acceptance and grace than they had expected. She was a sweet girl. “So, what sort of man do you wish to marry?” Cassidy tilted her head in thought. 

“That’s a complicated question.”

“I suppose it is.” Lucy laughed. “Then what do you wish to avoid? What is an absolute requirement?”

“Well…he has to love music. Or at the very least like it.” Cassidy stated. “I’ve always imagined myself playing the piano for my husband on quiet nights.” Lucy smiled softly. “And I want him to enjoy being outside. And travel.” She sat up. “I must marry a man who enjoys travel and will take me with him.” Lucy laughed. 

“You seem to know what you want more than you thought.” She observed. “What about his humor?” She asked lightly. “Do you want him to be impertinent and joke like you? Or would you prefer a serious man to balance you out?” 

“Maybe not quite as impertinent.” Cassidy admitted. “But he must be willing to indulge me.” Lucy nodded sagely. 

“It is very important for a husband to indulge his wife.” She agreed. “How else would I have gotten you that beautiful gown for the night?” She giggled. “So. A traveler, who likes music, and nature. And who has a sense of humor that may occasionally offend some of the more stately members of the ‘ton.” Already, a list was forming in her mind. “I believe we can find a man like that.”

I will start posting Colin’s POV’s tomorrow!