The Second Born Bridgerton // Benedict Bridgerton

What you want

The tea at the park is rather boring and uneventful, for myself at least. Daphne bridgerton seems to have found herself a husband in the duke of hastings, which does not come as a surprise to me as it appears to to everyone else. She is the diamond of the season and he is an untouchable, I struggle to see how their attraction to each other does not make sense. My mother continues to encourage my sisters to speak to other Lord and sirs, and she leaves penelope alone to chat incessantly with eloise, and as always, she does not hardly bother with me. Everything is as it has always been, which makes for a dull afternoon, and I am sure that lady whistledown shall not be impressed as I am not. I wish only to get home and to rid myself of this corest, and to begin writing a letter back to Benedict. I have spent all afternoon thinking of what it was that I wanted to say, and yet I sit with ink and a feather in front of me and my hand falters. In the end, I decide on this:

Dear Lord Benedict Bridgerton,

If you genuinely enjoyed the cherubs on the ceiling at the palace then I do pity you, for you shall never become an artist. Both myself and Lord Granville would have your head for such a comment.

I do hope you enjoy my offerings as much as I enjoyed yours, and I am eager to count how many times you shall step on my toes tonight, if you still wish to dance with me after seeing my art.

This is as far as I get, before I have to search out for his letter to remind myself how he ended it. He ended his own with "yours". I could not write back by ending my own letter with the same, could I? Yours felt too intimate too quickly, it felt a commitment, it felt strange and labour some and I could not write it, and so I settle for simply Peaches featherington. I attach the letter to the sketchbook that I have wrapped in plain paper, before taking my paints and carefully adding a small bird to the bottom of the package. Once I am happy with it, I take it to my lady, who ensures to me that she shall deliver it herself and she shall not tell my mother. Once I return to my room, I see that I am no longer alone. "Penelope, you are as bad as philipa and prudence. You do not give me any privacy, sister." 

"The new lady whistledown has arrived, I did wonder if you wished to read it." She holds the piece of paper to me, it is slightly crumpled from where she has gripped it.

"Pen, you know I do not care for the gossip she brings. I saw everything first hand today myself, did I not? What can lady whistledown tell me that my own eyes cannot?" I take the page anyway, giving it a once over as I sink down into the bed by the side of her and allow myself a small sigh. "Pen, are you in love with Colin?"

"In love? Oh, no. I do believe you misunderstand my feelings, Peaches." Penelope is quick to try and defend herself, but she is also quick to understand that it simply is not worth it, as I raise an eyebrow to indicate to her that I know the truth. "I have been since we have been children, Peaches. I do find it ever so frustrating to see the way that he gazes at every young lady that is not myself. I am sure that I shall never know what it is like for him to love me back. That is what pains me the most, I believe. That is what what pains me the most." She breathes out, her breath a little hitched, before shaking her head softly. "I do want him to be happy. I just wish, more than anything, that he chose to be happy with me."

"I understand, Pen. I think that colin loves you but he does not love you in the romantic way that you love him. You do make him happy, I see the way he looks when he sees you, his face brightens... but I think that it is the light of good friendship that brightens his face and nothing more. Dear, sweet Pen. You shall find someone who is much more handsome than collin and someone who loves you and you shall be so happy that you shall wonder why you ever wasted tears on anyone else."

"That is easy for you to say, Peaches. You are a natural beauty and a talent and that is why I am sure you will marry Benedict. I am not like you, I do not think I shall succeed as you shall." She sniffles and wipes her nose, and I find myself trying to defend myself as she did earlier, quickly quietened by the look that she gives me. "You must think me horribly unobservant if you think that I cannot see that you are in love with him. And even if I did not know that, Eloise tells me that he was asking about you at the dinner table tonight. He even asked Anthony for permission to court you."

"And what did anthony say?" I perk up a little, trying to disguise it but struggling. I have disguised it the entire day whilst I have been in polite company and I cannot do so anymore. I stand, beginning to unfasten my dress so that I may begin to prepare for the ball.

"Anthony said no, and apparently it caused quite a tiff between the brothers. Benedict insisted he was asking only out of politeness and would do what he pleased with or without Anthony's blessing." Penelope lies back on my bed, clutching whistledown to her chest, releasing a strange and pained sigh. "You do not know how lucky you have become."

"Pen, I have known him properly for two days, not even that. I could not discuss my feelings with you about him as I do not have them yet. I think that he is handsome and kind but I think nothing more and we should not get our hopes up. He is still a bridgerton and I am still only a featherington. It does not matter that he is only second born, that makes him second most important, does it not? I will not stand a chance with him, if we are realistic. We must be realistic."

"Why must we be realistic? You are an artist, are you not, sister? Be a romantic, be hopeful and inspired. You shall get what you want. I am sure of it."