#and john

He stares at her quietly for a long moment, swallowing nervously. 

“Benedict,” his mother warns. 

“I need to go.” 

“Benedict.” 

He’s on his feet quickly and out the door, and Violet sighs heavily. 

“Oh, my boy,” she mutters. 

***** 

Eloise finds him hours later, late that night, on the swings, looking a little disheveled, and takes a seat. 

“Mama has been looking all over for you,” she tells him. “I heard you found your glove lady.” 

He doesn’t respond. 

She sighs. “Benedict.” 

“She is…everything I thought she might be,” he admits quietly. “She is kind and clever. She looks after her sisters.” 

“As you look after yours?” Eloise asks with a smile. “When you are not playing the scoundrel.” 

“And she is so beautiful. Still.” 

“So what is the problem?” Eloise asks, a little annoyed. “You have found her. You should be happy.” 

“I do not know if I am what she wants,” he admits. “I am…I am not the Bridgerton that anyone should give their heart to.” 

“Has it occurred to you, brother, that that is not your choice?” Eloise asks, more annoyed now. “That maybe young ladies get to decide who they give their hearts to? Or not?” 

He looks at her, a little vulnerable. 

“When you met her today, what did she say?” Eloise asks. “Was she happy to see you?” 

Benedict nods.

“Did she or did she not agree to come to tea?” Elosie asks. 

“She did,” he confirms. 

“Then I think you should respect the lady’s choice,” Eloise says, reaching a foot out to kick him a little. “However you may feel about you, she obviously sees something in you she quite likes. Or she would not have been happy to see you. Or agreed to come to tea. Now for god’s sake, go sober up so you are not hungover by the time she gets here tomorrow.” 

***** 

Sleep is a little hopeless for Sophie. She’s excited and nervous about tea with the Bridgertons, and she cannot stop thinking about the way he looked at her; Blue-grey eyes wide with hope and nerves and a little astonishment. The way they had almost kissed again, his lips so close. Her mind drifts back to the masquerade, then, his smooth dip down to pull her back into their dance form. His lips pressing to her cheek in what felt like a promise for more. His surprised gasp as she stole a real kiss from him. Her first kiss. 

Her hand drifts down her body, under the blankets, and she eventually finds release in the memory of his arms around her, and then finally sleep. 

***** 

“You shall wear this one!” 

In the morning, their lady’s maid, Hazel, is fixing Sophie’s hair into soft, loose curls while Rosamund goes through the wardrobe in Sophie’s room, and Posy lays on the chaise, already dressed and waiting. 

Araminta had ordered that both sisters should go with, but when Araminta mentioned attending, their father had forbade it. 

“You will make a mess,” he had commented. “As you have already made a mess of Sophie’s prospects. She’s had not one suitor in years. So you will stay home, and the girls will take Hazel with them, and it will all be as it should.” 

Sophie can’t say she isn’t relieved. 

Rosamund reappears with a blue-gray dress. “You will look beautiful and he will think of you at the masquerade and he will propose on the spot.” 

Sophie turns and smiles at her. “I do love that dress, and I will take your advice, but Rosamund, that is not how these things normally go. We must get to know one another properly.” 

“Do you doubt in him?” Posy asks, looking  concerned as she sits up. 

“I…doubt in me,” Sophie admits quietly. “He is so…handsome, and he clearly has more life experience than I. It is possible that…despite our early connection, I am not what he looks for.” 

“Bosh!” Rosamund cries. “He looked at you like you hung the whole sky yesterday! And you are plenty worldly with your…your books and your sense. And beautiful! So beautiful Mama barely lets you out of the house because she is jealous of you.” 

“I think,” Hazel says gently. “That you should listen to your sister. Word around is that he has been looking for his lady in silver, and that is you.” She smiles at Sophie in the mirror. “For once, Miss Sophie, let yourself be swept away.” 

“Listen to Hazel,” Rosamund orders. “She is absolutely right in saying that I am right.” 

Sophie smiles and shakes her head. “I will try.” 

Once she dresses and settles her necklace on, they head down the stairs, and Araminta watches as they slide into their overcoats to leave. 

“Goodbye, Mama,” Posy smiles at her. “We shall come back with much to tell I am certain.” 

Araminta says nothing, her eyes trained on Sophie.

“Think of it this way,” Rosamund tells their mother. “If all goes well, and Sophie forms an attachment, she will marry and then she will no longer be your problem.” 

Araminta storms out of the room. 

Sophie takes a breath, takes her sisters hands and heads out the door.

***** 

“You are going to wear out the carpet with your pacing,” Anthony warns his brother. 

Benedict stops and turns to him…

And the rest of their family.

Because all of them are here. 

All of them. 

Kate and Anthony, newly returned from India. Colin and Penelope. Francesca and John. Eloise, Hyacinth. Gregory, freshly back from Eton. Even Daphne is here, though Simon stayed in Clyvedon on business. 

“I do not see why all of you had to attend,” Benedict says, clearly stressed out. 

“Is that a joke?” Colin asks, bewildered. 

“Our beloved free-spirited brother has found possibly a match, and you expect us all to stay home?” Daphne scoffs. “I was already in town and planning to come for tea. This is just an added bonus.” 

Francesca purses her lips and gets to her feet, stepping over to Benedict and tugging on his waistcoat gently. “It is only nerves, and it is natural when you find someone.” 

He gives her a grateful grin and kisses her forehead. “I am well.” 

“Come sit, Benedict, Dear,” Violet beckons. 

“Has anyone met her?” Anthony asks Eloise and Penelope. 

Penelope shakes her head. “I have heard that there was a third Penwood daughter, but she never makes it to events.” 

“The stepmother hates her,” Benedict informs them. 

“Araminta Gun is not a terribly agreeable woman,” Violet comments. “If she dislikes her, it may be to the young lady’s credit.” 

Mrs. Wilson steps in, then. “Miss Gun, Miss Li, and Miss Posy,” she announces. 

Benedict turns and smiles nervously, stepping forward toward Sophie, and then stepping back, clearly unsure of what to do. 

Anthony looks at him as if he is mad, before turning to the new arrivals. “Thank you for joining us. I am Viscount Bridgerton. It is very nice to meet you all.” 

Sophie takes the lead, giving him and everyone a curtsy. “Thank you for inviting us.”

“This is Sophie,” Rosamund speaks up. “Miss Sophie Gun, and I am Miss Rosamund Li, and this is our other sister, Posy Li.” 

“It is so nice to see you all,” Violet beams. “Please, come join us.” 

“My, you are…you are so many people,” Posy comments, smiling brightly. “Our tea times are only just the three of us and Mama, and one time Mama locked Sophie in her room so we were down one.” 

Sophie takes a deep breath as everyone freezes at the statement. “That…was…a very long time ago, indeed. And it has not happened since, and we should change the subject.” 

Kate smiles at her understandingly, and bids everyone to sit down. “Miss Gun, I hear that you dressed all in silver for the masquerade ball. That sounds lovely.” 

“It was my mother’s dress,” Sophie smiles as she sits with her sisters on one of the sofas. “She wore it to a ball once, and my father says he never got around to giving it away, but I think perhaps he saved it for me. She is wearing it in a miniature I have of her.” 

“Oh, how nice,” Violet smiles. “I remember your mother a little. She was quite beautiful.” 

“Thank you,” Sophie smiles. 

Benedict watches her intently, noticing her expression shift as she tries to hide the emotion of talking about her mother. 

The conversation keeps going, and Benedict finds that he has nothing to add; there is nothing to say as Sophie deftly handles a room full of his family. She laughs softly when Eloise makes a joke, and she answers questions about herself. 

She reads. She is endlessly fascinated with plants and gardening. She loves art(!) and science. She speaks quite a few languages. 

“Why are you not saying anything?” Anthony hisses at him. “She is here to see you.” 

Benedict startles a little. “I paint!” he cries abruptly, stopping all conversation.

Anthony buries his own face in his hands, slightly mortified. 

Sophie blinks and purses her lips, clearly trying not to laugh at the outburst. “Do you?” 

“He did,” Gregory comments. “He left the academy two years ago, but he is quite good.” 

Colin nudges their brother. “Unhelpful.” 

“I…I have some of my work here, unfinished though it is,” Benedict tells her, feeling a little hopeful. “Perhaps you would like to-” 

“I would love to see it,” Sophie smiles. 

Kate smiles at everyone, and gets to her feet. “I shall accompany them down to the study.” She gestures for Sophie to get to her feet, and Rosamund also starts to stand but Posy drags her back down. 

“You have a lovely home! I quite like your purple flowers outside,” Posy says. 

Benedict leads the two ladies out of the room and down the stairs. “Forgive me for…” he gestures vaguely. 

Sophie laughs softly. “Are you quite well?” 

“I…am…nervous,” he admits sheepishly. “I have never had a lady over for tea with my family. I tend to not do those things.” 

Sophie nods. “Well. You were my first caller yesterday,” she admits. “So, we are somewhat even. At least societally speaking.” 

Benedict grins at her as they enter the study and he leads her over to the corner, where there is a small rack of paintings. “Gregory exaggerates about my talent,” he admits as he steps aside to let Sophie look. 

“He does not,” Kate comments from across the room. “You are quite talented, brother.” 

“Lady Bridgerton and Gregory are right,” Sophie says as she pulls an unfinished landscape from the rack. “This…this is beautiful. The style is unrestrained yet full of feeling.” 

He blinks, a little surprised. “That…that was the intent.” 

She smiles at him as she keeps looking. “Your family is very kind.” 

“And large,” Benedict adds. “I did not realize they would all show up today. It must feel daunting.” 

Sophie shrugs. “What would be more daunting is if my stepmother had accompanied me today. She wanted to, and my father told her no.” 

“Well, at least he is sensible,” Benedict mutters. 

“When he pays attention,” Sophie mutters as she keeps looking, pulling another half-finished painting out. 

Of a woman in a silver gown. She blinks up at him. 

He flushes. 

So does Sophie. 

Benedict takes a breath and looks to Kate. 

Who has suspiciously left the room, leaving the door open just a crack; a sign of her trust in him. 

“I have thought about very little else but you,” he admits, his eyes turning back to Sophie. “Since that night.” 

Sophie gazes up at him softly. “When I saw you in the Penwood drawing room, I thought my heart would just leap out of me and run off.” 

They both laugh softly at that as he steps closer to her, taking the painting from her gently and putting it back, before taking her hand and holding it gently. 

“I know we do not know each other well,” he says quietly as he gazes at her. “But…I would like to. I want to.” 

Sophie smile as she gazes back, squeezing his hand gently. “I would like that very much, Mr. Bridgerton.” 

“Benedict,” he urges gently. “Please.” 

He has no idea how they became so close in proximity. Again, but there is suddenly very little space between them. 

“We should not,” she whispers, repeating his words from their night together on the terrace. Her nose bumps against his gently, and her eyes drift shut. 

“No,” he agrees as his lips ghost over hers. “We should not.” 

“Are you quite well, brother?” Kate calls from outside the door. 

Sophie jumps back from him, taking a breath and turning away. 

“Quite well!” Benedict calls, watching the back of her head. “Quite…quite well!” 

Sophie turns to look at him and takes another breath. “You are quite talented. You should finish a few of these. They are lovely.” 

“As are you,” he says absently. 

She flushes again. 

“May I call on you again tomorrow?” Benedict asks. 

Sophie nods. “Yes. I wish you would.”