#john sterling

“Viscount Bridgerton!” Lady Gunningworth. “And Lord Sterling. And…oh my. Your Grace. How wonderful to run into all of you.”

They all bow politely, Colin’s exclusion not going unnoticed as Simon glances at him with a wry grin.

“Good day, Lady Gunningworth,” John says cooly. “I trust you and your daughters are having a pleasant day.”

“Quite,” she nods. “Oh, but one of your number is missing,” she comments. “Should there not be one more of you?”

Colin sees it in Anthony’s face. He knows exactly the response his oldest brother wants to give, and as the words “Sadly my brother is” leave his lips, Colin nudges him, forcing him to change the next words from “dead” to “feeling under the weather.”

It’s an old joke, and it only works when Benedict is actually in attendance to refute the claim.

“The poor man,” Lady Gunningworth laments.

“Perhaps he would like some company,” one of the daughters pipes up. The less pleasant one. Beautiful as she is, Colin thinks her pinched, and a little haughty.

And not Penelope. Which is the worst strike against her, really, in his eyes.

“What a nice idea,” Lady Gunningworth coos. “A charming young lady to brighten his day.”

“As nice an idea as that is,” Simon chimes in. “He truly is not fit for visitors. His coughs rattle the windows and he has developed…boils.”

Both Bridgerton brothers blink at that claim, and John looks up, obviously attempting not to laugh.

“Boils?” Lady Gunningworth asks, clearly taken aback.

“Yes,” Simon nods, doubling down, “Boils. Terrible thing. The doctors say he will recover with time, but for now, it is…it is best if you wait to call on him.”

“Well, we shall look in on him once this…ailment has passed,” Lady Gunningworth nods, disgust more than concern written on her face. “Rosamund. Posy. Come.”

They take their leave, all bowing to each other, and once the women are out of earshot, Anthony turns to Simon.

“Fucksake, Hastings.”

“It got them to leave off, didn’t it?” Simon reasons.

“It was a tad extreme,” John tells him. “Perhaps you could have gone with vomit.”

“Is that really better?” Colin asks, before turning to his brother. “And you.”

“It was reflex!”

“The joke only works when Benedict is here!” Colin cries.

“What joke?” John asks, looking confused.

Simon rolls his eyes. “Anthony and Benedict have a running jape where the Viscount tells people his brother has died when said brother is standing right next to him.”

John considers for a moment. “That is rather funny.”

“It would not have been today,” Colin snaps. “And something tells me that Lady Gunningworth has her sights set on Benedict for the pinched one.”

“They both looked pinched,” Simon comments. “Which do you mean?”

“The more pinched one,” Colin clarifies.

“Ah,” Simon nods, before making a face. “Ugh.”

“Can we please get that drink now?” Anthony begs.

*****

“I wanted to thank you, Sophie, for helping my son,” Lady Bridgerton says as she passes the younger woman a cup of tea. “I know that dealing with a sickly house member is not quite your job as a lady’s maid, but you were very helpful. I know Benedict, too, is grateful.”

Sophie swallows and tries to hold her tea cup steady, but genuinely fails. Being stared at by Lady Bridgerton and now Lady Danbury is terrifying. These are two incredibly formidable women, and one is the mother of the man that Sophie has ill-advisedly fallen in love with.

Lady Bridgerton goes on. “I would like to start off by saying that there is nothing you can tell me about your past that will cause you to lose your position here,” the Dowager Lady Bridgerton tells her. “I truly do not care where you come from, only that you have done excellent work for us.”

“I…I…I honestly do not know what this is about,” Sophie tries.

“Come now,” Lady Danbury says. “You are well-educated, well-spoken, your teeth are far too straight to be a servant’s-”

“Lady Danbury,” Lady Bridgerton admonishes gently. “There are plenty of staff who have very fine teeth.”

“Still!” Lady Danbury snaps. “Where on earth do you come from, girl?” Before Sophie can respond, the older woman raises a hand. “And do not feed us some story about some kindly family your mother worked for giving you an education. Adding another child to a governess’s student rolls is expensive, and that is outlandish.”

Sophie stares at them both for a long moment. She’s so used to lying; to keeping her past to herself. She turns to Lady Bridgerton.

“You swear that I will not lose my position?” She asks.

“I promise,” Lady Bridgerton nods.

Sophie takes a long breath and a pause before starting to talk. “I…was once the ward of the Earl of Penwood,” she explains. It feels odd to tell the truth.

“Richard Gunningworth,” Lady Danbury says, her eyes widening in surprise. She thinks for a long moment. “That’s right. Before he died, he spoke of a ward he took in. The daughter of a friend that he promised to look after.”

“That was me,” Sophie confirms.

“And why are you not out in society with Lady Gunningworth’s two daughters?” Lady Bridgerton asks, confused.

“Because I…I am not…” Sophie huffs out a breath and tries again. “Lady Gunningworth knew from the moment she saw me that I was not merely the…the Earl of Penwood’s ward.”

Silence falls over the drawing room, and the two older women look at each other in surprise.

“My mother died in childbirth,” Sophie says quietly. “My grandmother passed on when I was three, and I was left as the Earl’s responsibility. And when he died, Lady Gunningworth would have cast me out, but she received extra funds for keeping me until I turned twenty.”

“Then why did she not present you to society the year she presented her daughters?” Lady Danbury demands.

“Because my father’s will did not stipulate how she should keep me,” Sophie tells them flatly. “And so I became a part of the staff. Or I would have been, had I been paid.”

Lady Bridgerton’s eyes nearly fall out of her head. “She kept you as a slave?”

“All but,” Sophie mutters, finally taking a sip of her tea. It feels good to tell the truth now. To be honest with someone about who she is, and what she has been through.

“Araminta Gunningworth is a cruel employer on the best of days,” Lady Danbury mutters. “I have heard terrible stories from my staff about how they were treated under her employ. I cannot imagine what it must have been like for you.”

Sophie doesn’t respond to that. She carefully sets her teacup down and takes another breath, turning to the two women again. “That is who I am. That is where I come from. Do with that what you will.”

Lady Bridgerton is obviously about to respond, but doesn’t get a chance as the doors to the drawing room slam open and Benedict stumbles in.

All three women are on their feet quickly.

“What on earth!” Lady Bridgerton cries. “Benedict, you need to be resting! What are you-”

He pays her no attention, his eyes squarely on Sophie, who swallows and takes a step back as he stalks toward her, a sketchbook in his hand.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” Lady Danbury scolds. “You are scaring the poor girl!”

Again, Benedict pays no attention as he opens the sketchbook and holds it out to her, tapping the page.

Sophie stares down at it, taking it in. A drawing of herself.

With a mask on.

She feels the color drain from her face as she looks up into his eyes. They hold questions and pain - whether from this revelation or from his illness, she can’t be sure.

But her first instinct is to run.

So Sophie does.

But even as weakened as he is, Benedict is able to catch her by the wrist, gently tugging her back.

“Benedict,” Lady Bridgerton snaps. “Let her go and go back to bed.”

“You’re her,” Benedict says to Sophie, ignoring his mother entirely. “It was you.”

Sophie looks away from his face, swallowing hard.

“Why-”

“I wanted a night off,” she explains. “I wanted…I wanted to know what it felt like to…to be part of this world. To…dance and drink lemonade.” Her voice begins to shake against her wishes. “And just once, to feel beautiful, and as if I belonged.”

“You should have told me,” Benedict says softly.

“Would you have even believed me?” Sophie asks. “When we met again, you didn’t recognize me at all.”

He looks down, shame written on his face.

“And it doesn’t matter,” she adds. “Because I am still this, and you are still you, and-”

“Not…exactly,” Lady Danbury butts in.

Lady Bridgerton gets to her feet, then, taking Benedict's arm. “Benedict, dear. At least sit down.”

He breathes hard, starting to teeter on his feet again, and Sophie takes his hand.

“Please, Benedict,” she whispers.

“You should have told me,” he tells Sophie again, all while letting them lead him to sit. “I searched for you for months.”

“I had to leave,” Sophie tells him as she sits next to him, still holding the hand that isn’t gripping his sketchbook.

Lady Danbury lifts an eyebrow at her. “Lady Gunningworth found you out,” she surmises. “And threw you out.”

Sophie nods.

“And stole your dowry,” Lady Danbury adds.

Sophie freezes, frowning at the woman. “I…The Earl did not leave me a dowry. He…he left me nothing.”

“My foot,” Lady Danbury snaps, turning to Lady Bridgerton. “The Earl was not a great man, but he was not unfeeling. He fed and clothed and educated that girl until the day he died. He left her a dowry. One that will ultimately belong to your son.”

Lady Bridgerton nods. “I will write to our solicitor straight away.”

“But-”

“What Earl?” Benedict asks, looking confused.

“Young Miss Sophie was the ward of the late Earl of Penbrook,” Lady Danbury explains.

“And…his by-blow,” Sophie admits to Benedict softly.

He nods slowly, still holding her hand, his thumb rubbing circles over her knuckles. “Maybe,” he shrugs. “Possibly. But can it be proved?”

Sophie frowns.

“Unless the Earl left something in writing, there is no proof that that is what you are,” Benedict says. “If his will merely states that you were his ward…then we will have to take his word for it.”

“But I…I look just like him…” Sophie argues.

“Lots of people look like lots of people,” Benedict bandies back with a little grin. “It is a small country, after all.”

“Benedict.”

“Marry me.”

“Benedict!”

Lady Bridgerton all but throws her letter in the air. “Lady Danbury, let us go see the solicitor right now.”

Sophie panics, watching them head for the door. “Lady Gunningworth will fight you with everything she has,” she argues. “She hates me.”

“Well, I love you,” Benedict tells her. “That is what she is up against.”

She stares at him for a long, quiet moment.

He sets his sketchbook down and takes her hands with both of his. “I was a fool, trying to convince myself that asking you to be my mistress was even remotely reasonable. What you said the other night, by the fire…that…that you want all of me? No one has ever said that to me before. Felt that for me. And whatever your identity is, I would be an even bigger fool to let you go. And now I find out that you are, in reality, the woman I have been dreaming about for more than a year. So yes, I love you. And I ask again: will you marry me?”

“I am a lady’s maid,” she argues weakly.

“You are Sophie Baek,” Benedict corrects her, bringing her hands up to kiss them. “And I want all of you.”

*****

Dearest Gentle Reader

While the social season has not yet started, it seems we already have quite the drama on our hands.

The late Earl of Penwood’s ward, a one Sophia Baek, disappeared from polite society some years ago, when she was but a girl. It appears that her benefactor's demise gave his wife the opportunity she needed to lock the poor girl away as a housemaid.

Only for her to have popped up again as a Lady's Maid at Bridgerton house. It seems her genteel manners and high education did not go unnoticed by the Dowager Lady Bridgerton, and the truth of her origins came tumbling out of Miss Baek.

While all of the sordid details of this tale are not known to this author, it appears that the poor girl's dowry may have been stolen by Lady Gunningworth.

All of this would usually mean Miss Baek's introduction in the upcoming season, but it seems she already has a marriage proposal.