Coal Among Diamonds │Benedict Bridgerton

Chapter Fourteen: Corruption [Part Two]

✦ Author's note ✦

Dearest, gentle readers, 

Here's something I am sure you've been waiting for and you most certainly deserve. I trust you'll find it to your liking. And do not worry, it does not involve Lucy or the modiste. Many thanks to the lovely Kayla for proofreading the chapter.

Enjoy,

L.H.

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"What are you doing here," Benedict's dark eyebrow sickled upward upon seeing the last person he expected to meet.

Franny's first response was to mark her territory and point out that she lived there, but she realised that she did not inhabit the studio, per se. Feeling the fuzzy effect of the champagne mixed with the lively atmosphere, Franny got into the mood for some bantering.

"Why, Benedict, am I not allowed to paint naked women?" she asked, her brow raised provocatively, putting one of her hands on her hips.

Benedict's eyes narrowed and the corner of his lips tilted into an almost imperceptible seductive smile. Being in a room with naked women wasn't a new experience for him, but the way Frances Granville's cheeks were coloured by an enticing shade of red, was enough to make his blood boil. Franny cast a triumphant smile, having heard Mary's chuckle, and walked across the room, settling at her easel.

"Well, I shall leave you to it then," Mr. Granville patted Benedict's shoulder with a kind smile, pretending not to have heard Franny's comment. "Should you need anything, I'll be in the next room."

"Dearest, I trust you will not bite our guest's head off," he turned to his niece on his way out, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, I guess that will depend on how talented he is. You should have warned him that the least talented painter gets sacrificed."

"Pay no heed to her, Mr. Bridgerton. There is no judgement here, feel free to practice. Indeed, Franny could use some practice herself as well," Henry emphasised, ignoring his niece sticking her tongue at him and left the room.

Benedict stared at Franny a little bit longer than appropriate, then decided to get himself occupied with sketching. He was two easels away from her which gave Franny the perfect vantage point to steal curious gazes at him while pretending to look at the models. She watched from the corner of her eyes as Benedict took off his coat and settled at the easel. He rolled up his sleeves, revealing his tanned, long forearm with dark veins running under his skin, coal-black hair covering the outer part. Franny bit her lower lip instinctively and the charcoal almost fell out of her hand. She could never have imagined that a simple move could make liquid desire spread through her veins. Benedict, sensing her longing leer on him, looked up, and Franny tore her gaze away from him, nervously gulping from her champagne. Benedict's mouth curved into a small, seductive half-smile as he noticed that her cheeks turned into a lovely shade of fuchsia. He caught her right in the act, the blushing giving her away, revealing that she knew she was caught red-handed. Benedict felt a shiver of excitement run through him and he realised that he will have trouble keeping himself civilised. After a few minutes of sketching the models as an alibi, his eyes slowly moved to Franny, who was immersed in painting. Benedict took his time to make a mental picture of her: her brows frowned, how her delicate fingers crutched at the empty crystal glass, while her other hand was busy sketching. Her wavy hair, which always commanded his attention, was tied in a messy, impromptu bun with two brushes barely holding it together. He was almost rooting for the construction to fall apart, but his attention shifted to Franny's neck, usually covered by her endless hair. As Benedict's eyes trailed off her long, swanlike neck he imagined placing soft kisses on them all the way to behind her ear which would make her twitch and jump, giving him the perfect chance to move his lips to hers. Franny also sensed the heat of Benedict's gaze upon her and lifted her head, but Benedict, more experienced in the game, already arranged his eyes back to the paper, as if they have never been on Franny. Oh, but they were, and they both felt the lingering, aching effect of their thoughts.