It is said that second-born sons have all the fun. This much is certainly true for Benedict Bridgerton, free from the burdens held by his eldest brother, the Viscount. One must wonder, how does the second eldest Bridgerton spend his time?
To the to...
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Benedict and Madeleine sat on the edge of the bed, his arm around her shoulders as she leaned into his chest, crying softly. He felt utterly helpless, knowing that neither them nor Anthony could go against the Queen's orders.
He had a growing feeling in his gut, fear that Lord Alaister would do everything in his power to keep him from marrying the girl that he loved. It was something greater than fear, though, it was more akin to terror. He knew this was the most likely situation given how he had threatened the man that morning and given the way they had stared at each other with such fury and hatred. He knew that their downfall was more likely than not and that terrified him.
He frowned and pulled Madeleine closer to him and kissed her forehead, resting his head on hers.
He could not imagine his future without her. One year ago, if somebody had asked him about marriage, he would've dismissed them with a wave of his hand. He did not like to think about that, to think about a life of restriction in which he could no longer practice art or do the things he loved. He knew the love match his mother and father had was rare, and at the very least, he was bound to end up with somebody he could simply tolerate rather than love.
When he realized his feelings for Madeleine, however, his entire perspective changed. He could see the two of them in their own house far away from here, an art studio for him and a library for her. They would spend their days laughing and teasing each other. They would have a garden in the back where they could grow their own vegetables and they could cook the dinners themselves, her inevitably getting angry with him for messing up the recipe. They would travel the world together, seeing everything there is to see. They would have children and they would spend time playing with them and teaching them to do what they love to do and not what society tells them to do.
Benedict's heart ached for that life, for that future. He wanted nothing more than that. And now, it seemed as though it might not be possible, and that thought terrified him to his core. A single tear rolled down his cheek and he held the girl tighter, never wanting to let her out of his sight.
Madeleine sniffled softly as she felt the drop of water hit her head and she lifted her head, looking up at him. Their eyes met, both darkened with gut-wrenching sorrow. She raised her hand to his face, gently wiping his cheek with her thumb, and he leaned into her touch. Her voice was shaky when she spoke.
"Maybe.. maybe it will all be okay, right? There is a chance that he will allow us to marry and we will live happily together. He is only a man, after all, there must be some kindness deep down in his heart, right?" Her voice was somehow hopeful and scared at the same time, and she herself did not even believe what she was saying. Still, he gave her a sad smile and nodded softly, gently brushing her hair back with his hand.
"Yes, my darling. Maybe it will be okay." He pressed his lips to her forehead and closed his eyes as he lingered there before pulling away and wiping her cheeks with gentle hands. She sighed defeatedly and stood, smoothing out her dress.
