The Second Born Bridgerton // Benedict Bridgerton

Big, bad Benedict

"Peaches?"

"Yes?"

"You lied to me." Benedict states, as I rest my head against his chest, my own rising and falling quickly. The back of my head is wet with sweat, and my body feels slightly exhausted. I felt nothing but happiness until he makes this statement, and then I do not know what I am to do. For a moment, I am paranoid that I have been tricked, that I have been tricked and I shall be ruined, and my breath quickens more than it already is. "You told me that nothing could be ever be perfect. You are perfect, my lady."

"You did not have to pause so long between that and your revelation. I imagined you were going to reveal to me that this is all some dastardly plot to expose me to lady whistledown." I cannot help but laugh a little as I feel my cheeks flush red with his compliment. "I stand by what I said, perfection does not exist. Except perhaps in form of second born lords. I do believe you have become my favourite."

"I do believe you have become mine as well, funny, is it not? And what did you think of the act itself? Easier with a bed, would you not think?" His hand trails up my body to stroke a piece of hair from my face. "You seemed to enjoy yourself but I should not assume."

"You could well assume, you wish for me to compliment you." I laugh a little, placing my own hand on his pair chest and stroking his skin with my thumb as he does my own. "I did enjoy myself. Although I know now why my mother did not tell me much at all."

"And why do you think that is?"

"I do believe that if young ladies were fully aware of what such things it entails, we should never be able to wait until marriage. After all, it is such fun. That is why Lord Granville hosts parties such as this one, that is why brothels shall always be in business, and that is why men crave a wife who still has her virtue when they marry her. Do you not think?"

"I think you ought to be careful who hears you talking of brothels and Lord Granville's sex parties. It would be very unbecoming of a young lady if it fell on the wrong ears, do you not think? Although I am sure you are most likely in good company when you are in this house." He laughs a little, and I still feel my heart melt when he does. That is a good thing. "My lady, do you wish to marry me? I suppose we did not discuss this in full."

"Oh, is this the moment where you make me aware that you shall never marry me and that I should repent for my sins and find myself an older husband who shall take me for the whore that I am?" I raise an eyebrow at him, nervous for the next thing that he says. I do not have bounties of trust in men, and I do hope that he should not turn on me. That really should make me such a fool.

"No, Peaches. Not at all. I thought of it more as a proposal. If you should have me, I should like to be your betrothed. Does that sound acceptable to you?"

"It sounds as though it is more than acceptable. Even wonderful, if I were to push it. I worry, my lord. As to whether your brother shall stop this. I do not wish to encourage any feud between yourself and Anthony, I must admit, he does scare me a little." It takes all I have to sit up, stretching my arms above me, his hands moving once again to cup my breasts. "You are obsessed with the things!"

"I do not care what Anthony says, he is not in charge of me. He is not my mother nor my father and if I have to ignore him then I shall. I shall marry you with or without his blessing, Peaches. And if he does not bless or, or he forbids it, then we shall go to Gretna Green and we shall marry there." Benedict laughs once again, and I enjoy it as much as I ever have. "And what of it? If I like your breasts? My lady should take it as a compliment, as that is only ever how it is intended."

"If you are insistent... I must dress and return home soon. It is reaching sunlight, we have been lying on the settee for hours, I fear." I lean to him, lowering my body gently so that I may kiss his lips, before standing. "Would you help me with my corset, Benedict?"

"Yes, I shall. Although I shall also resent you for leaving." He stretches his arms above his head, before following my lead and standing, his hands gentle as always as he fastens my corset for me, kissing my neck as he does so. "Are you going to be in attendance of the ball tomorrow night? I do believe it is at the widows home and should be a spectacle. I should like to dance with you again."

"I should like that too." I shiver as he traces a finger from the bottom of my spine to the top before fastening my dress. "Am I presentable?"

"You are perfection. Nothing less. Now, you should get on your way home to your mother before she figures out what big bad Benedict Bridgerton has done. Hm?"

"You are neither big nor bad." I let out a giggle and a snort, standing to kiss him once again before I leave. He grants me that, placing one on my lips and a second on my forehead. "And you are sure that I shall see you at the ball tomorrow? You are not already planning your escape?"

"And what need would I have for an escape? Now go, before it reaches morning light and you are caught." One last kiss on my lips, and I sneak from the back door and wander home.

The walk home is different than usual. I feel as though I am a different person. I was Peaches Featherington, an aspiring artist who was failing rather miserably on the marriage market. Now I feel I am Peaches featherington, inspired artist, irresistible woman and soon to be wife of a Bridgerton.