,wallflower' • BRIDGERTON

chapter 8

【8】

Dear gentle reader,

In a town full of ambitious mamas and fortune-hunting gentlemen, marrying above one's station is an art form, indeed.

But Miss Daphne Bridgerton's advance from future duchess to possible princess is an achievement that even this jaded author must applaud.

But this author cannot dismiss our ruby quite so soon. She has left our eyes and gone... rouge. It has been two days without a single ball or appearance and even this author... is getting impatient.

✑

I sat in bed, looking at the platter of food in front of me with no sense of hunger. I breathed in before I heard a knock at my door. "Yes?" I said. "M-my lady, lunch has been prepared." A housekeeper said through the wooden door.

"I am not hungry," I said. I heard voices coming from behind the door and I looked back in confusion. "It is Mr. Bridgerton, Lady Buckingham." She said before groaning internally. "Which one?" I said, throwing my head back.

I suddenly heard the doors bust open and I immediately knew it was Benedict. "My dear Hope! I thought you would be at a ball or gossiping with Daphne." He said. I said nothing as he made his way over to my bed with a tray of more food. "Benedict I am not hungry," I said tiredly.

"You say that nearly every time I come in here." He said, placing the plate of sandwiches in front of me. I sighed before pushing it away. "I am serious this time," I said. Benedict's mouth thinned into a line.

"Is it Miss Cowper?" He asked making my eyebrows furrowed with confusion. How on Earth did he know? Who told him? "How...?" I trailed off. "Mother told me Lady Cowper was being an incessant bitch." He said, shrugging his shoulders. I sighed, burying my head in my hands.

"I despise this, Benedict," I said, my eyes stung. Benedict tilted his head. "What do you despise?" He asked. I breathed in, making my shoulders tense before he got in my bed and sat in front of me. I looked up.

"This society and its expectations. It's something it and my father have in common." I said, looking down at my hands. Benedict placed a hand on my forearm. "You don't talk about your father hardly. Was he... unbearable?" He asked. I scoffed looking back at Benedict, tilting my head.

"He made my life unbearable. He thought I was the least undesirable of all my sisters. He... didn't allow me to love... he only wanted me to marry for riches and title and I was so angry with him. But, over time I became content."

"Deep down I despise him for what scars he left upon my soul. Yet, I still hold him most dear." I said before scoffing once more. "What is wrong with me?" I said. Benedict grabbed my hands with a meaningful expression.

"There is nothing wrong with you, Hope. Your soul isn't scarred, and it is fine to still love your father after what he did. Even though I do suggest we make haste over to his estate and sock in the eye." He said a soft chuckle left my mouth. He smiled softly before letting go of my hands, grabbing a sandwich from the silver platter, and holding it in front of me.

I shook my head. "No, Benedict," I said with a tired expression. "If you take one bite I'll stop bothering you and leave you to your own devices." He suggested, well, I would certainly get more time alone. Even though deep in my bones I wanted someone here.