company. ✧. prompt : kate bridgerton ( @enwilds ) ft. benedict , accepting
and who are you? bridgerton number two ? or is it three ? the maddening question churns around him like a phonograph on repeat, and it's near enough to make him scream. ( i'm benedict. not a damned number. i'm a man worth something on his own. an artist ! ) except that wasn't true now, was it ? he hadn't picked up so much as a willow charcoal in weeks, and he was afraid he could never bring himself to again.
clearly, the ton has never seriously entertained a second son's pursuits, and he could have endured that. but to have his own blood, ( his brother; the first half of the original pair ! ) who he felt knew him better than anyone. . . if he hadn't believed -- if he felt a contribution was necessary to secure benedict's seat in the academy -- then perhaps benedict's dream of making his own name as an artist was just that. a silly pipe dream.
the mamas and debutants who saddle their way to the next best bridgerton only add insult to injury. barely ten minutes into the masquerade, humiliation rakes his heart and draws him out into the hall, where he makes for the viscount's study quickly before making a scene to ruin his mother's last social function as lady of the house. he'd never forgive himself for that. a moment of reprieve, that's all he needed. somewhere quiet and empty to collect his thoughts would do, and he knew anthony was otherwise caught in a no doubt titillating conversation with lady featherington. ( had benedict kept his eye peeled precisely in an effort to avoid him? of course not. perish the thought. )
here he makes himself welcome to the finest decanter of brandy, and overpours a dose. not that he intends to drink it all, but because a very high brow and detailed eye would be sure to notice later, and benedict could be petulant in that manner. he hears someone enter then, surprised to find it is a woman, elegantly masked and in costume. he narrows his eyes from beneath his own black demi-mask, taking a belated moment to recognize his sister-in-law. ( ah, right. how could he have forgotten? the viscount no longer lorded over the family alone. he should have kept an eye peeled for his lady too. )
benedict half expects her to admonish him, or corner him with complaints about his recent spottiness on anthony's behalf, as he'd expected of any of his other siblings. but kate simply sits across from him, silently, with a consoling and balmy air about her that almost feels even more unnerving, if only for how foreign a gesture it was. he sighs, and capitulates on his own. ❛❛ i'm not angry with him. i'm just -- despondent of late, ❜❜ a beat, and he leans into the lip of his glass, avoidant of her gaze when he mumbles: ❛❛ . . . and, perhaps, still a tad angry with him. ❜❜
