Love in Bloom (B. Bridgerton)

Chapter 14: in a box beneath my bed is a letter that you never read

A/N: IM SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY but here she is!!!! this will prob be the last chapter unless people want something more BUT i am planning on having an alternate ending that will be published sometime in the future

August 16, 1814 -Y/I,

Meet me in the studio after dinner.

Yours, B

You stared at the creamy paper in your hands suspiciously for several moments. Your butler, Montgomery, had handed you the note as you went downstairs for breakfast, and you wondered why Benedict couldn't have delivered the note himself. It was barely a sentence, but that didn't stop you from analyzing every word, trying to decipher Benedict's intentions.

You couldn't help your mind from running away with the most unpleasant possibilities. What if this meeting held no significance? What if Benedict had other matters to discuss, leaving sentiments unspoken and issues unresolved? What if he wanted to return to the normalcy of the friendship you shared before the season started?

You didn't think you could bear it. At least not right now. Maybe a year from now, you would be able to return to normal. But right now, what you had with Benedict was so far from a normal friendship that you didn't think you could snap back to whatever you had before as quickly as he had left you all those weeks ago.

A day earlier, you might have resisted the urge to speak with Ben at all, clinging to the fragments of your wounded pride. However, last night's conversation with Alex had softened your resolve. Now, you found you could barely wait until tonight to speak with him, anxiously thinking over what he could possibly have planned.

---

Two hours later, you were fuming. After dinner? Was he serious? He'd been ignoring you for four days and he wanted you to wait another twelve hours? You were so distraught you hadn't even wanted to partake in the Pall Mall game happening outside at the moment, much to the displeasure of Hyacinth, who had been unable to convince either you or Benedict to join.

Currently, you were seated in the Bridgerton library reading the same sentence again and again, finding the fifteenth time to be just as futile as the rest of your attempts to help in your understanding of the text. You kept looking out at the window hoping to catch a glimpse of Benedict in the garden, but the expanse stayed decidedly empty of any non-Pall Mall players.

Slamming your book shut, you let out an indignant huff and rose to your feet. There was simply no universe in which you could wait until evening to hear what Benedict had to say. You hastily strode downstairs to Ben's studio, where he was most likely to be at any given time.

When your knock went unanswered, you slowly opened the door to find a room empty of Benedict. Everything was exactly as it had been the last time you were at Aubrey Hall except for a covered painting on an easel in the middle of the room. Your breath caught in your throat as you looked around the empty studio and realized that the last time you had been here was before the season had even started. You felt a pang in your chest as you remembered laying on Benedict's couch as he painted, conversing with an ease that you sorely missed.

But you couldn't afford to back down now. Alexander's tough love last night was the main force driving you to find your supposed best friend and demand answers from him, so you went back upstairs to Benedict's bedroom. You hadn't ever been in there, at least not since you were about six years old, but you didn't quite care at the moment. Social norms be damned, you needed to find Ben or you would implode.

Finally reaching his door, you knocked hesitantly, suddenly self-conscious now that you were faced with the reality of entering a man's chambers as an unmarried young lady in polite society. However, his nonchalant "I'm occupied at the moment" in response to your knock reignited the anger you had been feeling earlier. Having known Ben your entire life, you knew exactly how he sounded when he was either highly focused or in a rush, and he was evidently not in either of those states.