The Second Born Bridgerton // Benedict Bridgerton

Rather hideous

"My Lord, if I had figured out a way to be rid of my sisters then I still should not tell you. I do think my torture is undeserved but I cannot say the same for your own." I smile and keep my face to the ground, I am worried what I shall do if I look at him for too long with too much intensity, especially when I hear that he laughs.

"Whatever do you mean? Are you to suggest that I am the awful brother myself? You should only have to spend a single day with Anthony before you should know that has no basis in the truth." He continues to laugh and I cannot control my own laughter, but he is careful in lowering his voice a little so that he might not attract the attention of his eldest brother, but this is something he does not achieve. Anthony turns his head at the commotion, and slows his own steps down so that he might address the two of us. "Brother. You remember Miss Peaches Featherington? She is the one who will usually wear the purple dresses, although she sports a dashing... what colour is that?"

"I do believe it is what my mother called sunset orange, but what I call rather hideous." This provokes another laugh from Benedict and another stern glare from Anthony. "I do apologise, Lord Bridgerton."

"It is viscount bridgerton now." He is as rash and rude as Eloise is, looking to Benedict for a moment before his glare returns back to me. I do not know this from looking, but I can practically feel his eyes burning into the side of my head.

"It is indeed, and along with being the viscount, Anthony has also gained delusions of grandeur." The second born raises an eyebrow softly, before his face erupts into another wide grin. "Myself and Misa Peaches were having a rather pleasant conversation before you decided to join us, Anthony. Might I gently suggest that you return to keep mama company?" There is a brief moment of silence before Anthony bows his head and excuses himself. "I do apologise for him. He has been no such fun since our father died and he became head of the house. In fact, he has been the anti-fun. Everything must be, oh so serious, now when anthony is around. I suppose that is one of the advantages of being myself, I shall never have to lead my sisters in the marriage market or bother myself with taxes."

"And that shall allow you to spend more time perfecting your art. I enjoyed your drawings, I think that you have much potential."

"That seems as though it is a polite way to tell me that you did not, in fact, enjoy them much at all."

"No, nonsense. If that is what I thought then that is what I would have said, is it not? I pride myself on being rather direct, Lord bridgerton, if I did despise them as you suggest then you would know I did." I look to him and finally meet his eye, and I do not enjoy the feeling of fluttering butterflies that I get in my stomach when I do. "I do think you could use more practice, however."

"So good, but not perfect? How kind, my lady."

"No art is ever perfect. That is what makes it art. If it was perfect then it would not be real life and art should always be an impression of real life. We have such beauty around us, but none of it is perfect. I do not think anything is perfect, no landscape or person or drawing, I do not believe perfection exists. So how could our art ever be perfect?" I ponder, and as he pauses for a moment, and so I begin to excuse myself. "I apologise. It is not my place to ask such questions, I am sure my education has not been as extensive as your own, I am sure you know better than my philosophical thoughts."

"And what is your education like, my lady?"

"Almost completely self taught. I spent much time in the library. I am lucky enough to have been able to speak to Lord Henry Granville many times as well. He has taught me well in the importance of not wasting time by striving for perfection." I do keep under wraps quite the extent of lord granville tutelage, for although I am sure I can trust him, I cannot say the same for any wandering eyes and ears we might pass on the way.

We reach the cowper house and he bows his head to me. "Shall I see you at the dance tonight?"

I smile, coyly. Not because this is what my mother has always taught me to do in the presence of a gentleman, but because this is what feels natural. Whatever emotion is portrayed by a coy smile is how I feel at this moment. "Yes, and I shall be wearing purple once more so that you may spot me easily. Or perhaps I shall tell philipa that she must sport purple tonight and trick you into conversing with her rather than myself."

"But then would you not find yourself missing my company?" He lowers his hand to indicate for me to place mine in his grip, as he kisses it once more. It takes all the energy I have not to show how much my heart is currently leaping. "I shall ask you to dance, if you should like that."

"I should like that very much."

"Good. There is a single condition though, for whether or not I shall dance with you." Once he has released his lips from my hand, he continues to hold it gently. "I do expect that you should return my favour."

"Favour?"

"Yes. I sent you a parcel with my art in it and now I do believe it is only fair that you should do the same. I expect that once I arrive home this evening, after the ball, I should find a collection of your own sketches."

"If I sent them to you after the ball, how would you know at the ball as to whether you should dance with me or not?" I question him, doing my best to tease him and to play devils advocate.

"Despite my Eton education, it seems you can easily outsmart me, my lady. Good faith, I suppose. I shall have to have faith that you shall not mislead me." He plants a second kiss on the back of my hand, excusing himself and rejoining the rest of his family.