[1] The Princess Royal | B. Bridgerton

Chapter 8

A Night To Remember

Vauxhall Gardens, London

Later in the evening, Anthony, Benedict, Colin, Daphne, and Violet Bridgerton were on their way to Vauxhall.

The moment they arrived, Benedict started his search for the Princess. Eventually, he found her talking with the Duke of Hastings. His arm was locked with hers as they stared at the dance floor from the table of pastries. Benedict chuckled softly, assuming she was eating macaroons as she always does.

"Who are you here with tonight?" Simon asked curiously.

"Martin," she answered as she looked behind her where Martin, her manservant and personal guard, was standing, behind the pastries' table, and he simply nodded at them in a greeting. Charlotte made a small wave and turned back to the Duke. "I will go nowhere without him, I swear."

"I believe you. I remember when we were younger, we tried to sneak out to get pastries from the kitchen, and he was there, following us, watching us like a hawk," he said and the two chuckled. "We certainly have great memories together."

"That we do," she agreed with a nod and a smile. "Shall we make more?"

"What a tempting offer," he raised an eyebrow with a smirk and a nod of approval. "One I could never, or ever want to refuse."

Charlotte sighed contently at his response, and turned to the pastries table and grabbed a macaroon. One for him, and one for her. But when he said he didn't want any, she ate the two with a satisfied smile. The ones she chose were whitish, and they tasted like coconut.

Simon, on the other hand, not only was surprised by the sight of his dearest friend eating her sixteenth macaroon, just when the evening was starting, but of the man who had not stopped looking at her for quite a while.

"Your Royal Highness," Simon looked down at her with a smirk. "It seems a certain Bridgerton is looking for you."

"Is that so? Which one?" She looked around, and giggled when she spotted Benedict staring at her with a smile on his face. "Oh, Benedict."

"How cruel of him to steal you away from me," Simon joked, making her laugh. "Must I duel him for your attention?"

"Goodness, no!" She looked at him with wide eyes, and he laughed at her reaction. "We just owe each other a dance."

"Then, what are you waiting for?" Simon nodded and released his arm from hers. "Go on, then."

"I shall see you later, Your Grace," she nodded back and made her way towards Benedict. "Well, well, well. What a gracious sight to my blue eyes."

"You look perfect tonight, Your Royal Highness," Benedict took a step closer to her. "As perfect as you were yesterday, and as you will be tomorrow."

"You are too kind to me. But allow me to say... What if I do not wish to be? Perfect, as all say?" She asked, now curious to hear his answer, and chuckled softly. "Am I mad for even thinking of it?"

"May I ask, why would you say such things?" He asked, his voice filled with a bit of concern.

Charlotte wasn't expecting this conversation to go any further, but she felt she couldn't back down now. Not even he was so eager to know.