To Paint With Shadows | Benedict Bridgerton

A Heart Whose Love is Innocent

'You wished to see me, Brother?' Benedict clarified, as he stepped into Anthony's study.
Anthony looked up, nodding; his face bearing a glum look.
'Miss Taylor is to leave us, a letter of resignation was delivered this morning.' Anthony informed him, now filing through documents and envelopes, 'I thought you should be the first to know. Anthony concluded, as he found Miss Taylor's letter, holding it for his brother to take.
Benedict was not surprised; he knew Sophie would chose or be forced to leave because of last night. As he held the letter in his hands, he read the carefully penned name, before daring to open it:

Dear Viscount Bridgerton,
It is with my deepest sorrows and regrets that I must resign from my position. I can only apologise profusely for everything that
has transpired under my employment; you and your family welcomed me in with open arms, and I apologise for the shame I have brought upon you all.
I shall remain in London until the end of the week, and I have arranged for my belongings to be collected in the following days.

Yours sincerely,
Miss Sophie Taylor

'She left one for you too' Anthony added, once Benedict had finished reading.
He the second letter too, but this one he could not open; the contents of that letter would be the last words between them, the thing that would make her leaving a reality.
'I am sorry, Benedict.' Anthony muttered, watching his brother stare at his name on the front of the letter. 'I did not realise... that...' He stuttered, feeling guilty for being the thing that tore them apart.
'It is alright.' Benedict comforted, handing back Anthony's letter, 'She wouldn't have married me anyway.'
Anthony looked at him in confusion, wanting to know more, but not wanting to state as such.
Benedict noticed this, quickly sighing before he continued: 'I asked her to wed me in secret.... I promised her that I would never treat her as my mistress, and in the end I did exactly as such: like she was some secret, I could not face the consequences of.'
Anthony leaned back in his chair; Benedict's words were on many occasions the truth he had not spoken, only after he fell Kate did he realise as such. He did not need anymore indication that his brother was hopelessly in love with the woman he spoke of.
'This situation is ridiculous.' Anthony stated, referencing the ball of the previous night, 'I had been so caught up in it all, that I missed the ludicrous nature of it.'
Benedict looked to his feet. 'I believe we all did.'
'I mean, even if Miss Taylor had stolen it to sell, she would have no need for that money.' Anthony continued, picking up his quill once again.
Benedict's eyes snapped upwards. 'What do you mean, Brother?' He queried.
'Well, because of her inheritance...' Anthony clarified, ceasing once he saw the puzzled expression on his brother's face. 'You do not know?' He asked.
'Know what?' Benedict followed up.
'Miss Taylor is set to inherit a large portion of her father's fortune. The lack of benefactor has made it hard to access, but I believe we have found a way.' He explained, 'She did not tell you?' Anthony assumed that they had shared almost everything with each other.
'No.' Benedict answered, after all she had every right not to tell him.

'Are you sure you do not want to collect your belongings yourself?' Frances inquired gently, as the pair walked arm in arm.
Sophie shook her head; the deep bags beneath her eyes, indicating to Frances the exhaustion her friend's mental turmoil was causing her.
'I can't face them... Not after what happened.' She whispered, tears forming in her eyes.
'I'm sure they know you did not take it.' Frances reassured, her tone as sweet as the scent of the blossoms that hung from the trees.
'Even if that is true, my presence has burdened them so heavily.' Sophie countered softly.
The sight of the verdant gardens, just outside the palace grounds, reminded her of Aubrey Hall, and the peace she felt there.
Frances simply offered her friend a sympathetic smile as her eyes scanned her surroundings.
'Perhaps, when we leave, we shall live in a home like that.' Frances jested, pointing in the direction of the palace.
Sophie beamed, as she gripped Frances' arm a little tighter: a way of silently showing her gratitude to her friend.
'How are you feeling?' Sophie spoke, after a brief pause.
Frances took a deep breath. 'Better.'
'Now you are to be with me?' Sophie asked teasingly.
Frances simply sighed.
'What is it?' Sophie queried quickly, growing rather concerned.
'It does not matter.' Frances brushed her off gently.
Sophie furrowed her brows. 'Please Frances, you may tell me.' She pleaded.
'I just wish things were different. For the both of us.' She answered, 'That is all.'
Sophie sighed, however just a she was about to speak, a figure appeared from behind a tree.

He seemed to be mumbling something to himself, gripping on to the trees as he stumbled.
'Your Majesty.' Sophie greeted confoundedly, as the man approached them.
She has recognised him from the portraits that hung around London, yet it seemed that almost all of London had never laid eyes on the man in person.
'Have you seen Lottie?' The man asked, his eyes still darting from bush to tree, 'Lottie!' He bellowed loudly.
Panic instilled with the raising of his voice, quickly Sophie took a step towards him.
'Perhaps, I may help you look for her.' Sophie stated gently, her eyes finding Frances.
'I will get help.' Frances stated, to Sophie more than anyone else, before she darted off towards the palace.
'Your Majesty.' Sophie spoke gently, her attention focusing back on the man, 'Perhaps, we should wait for her by the stream.' Sophie added, gently taking the man's hands, so that she may guide him. 'I'm sure she will know where to find us.'
'Oh.. Okay.' The man muttered, before allowing Sophie to direct him to a bench that sat on the bed of the stream.
Sophie smiled softly, as the man's eyes searched every feature of her face.
'Do I know you?' The man asked, as he shakily lowered himself.
'My name is Sophie, your Majesty.' Sophie answered him calmly.
'I knew a Sophie.' The King muttered, his eyes scanning the wilderness once again, 'She was a beautiful little girl.... Blonde, just like you.' He spoke in wonder, smiling as he played with the curl framing her face.
Sophie patted the man's hand, hoping that conversing with him would keep him from growing agitated.
'She sounds wonderful.' She mused.

'The King is missing, Your Majesty.' A footman announced quickly, the words slurring from his mouth.
The Queen shot up from her seat. 'What do you mean, he is missing?' The Queen sniped in shock.
'He appears to have snuck out.' The footman answered, his body quivering knowing he was soon to face her wrath.
'Snuck out? He is the King!' She roared.
A second footman ran into the room.
'We've found him.' She spoke him breathlessly.
Soon they the Queen and a group of footman were following Frances, in hot pursuit, as she led them outside the palace walls.
Yet, the frantic tension ceased, as the Queen halted; she had expected to find her husband injured or, in a fit of agitation. Instead, she watched as he sat on the bench, calmly conversing with a young woman.

'Hello, My Darling.' The man greeted as Charlotte approached them. Sophie took in the
Queen's appearance, her eyes were wide, her lips trembling: a stark contrast from her usually cool demeanour.
'Hello, Dear.' She answered, a smile melting her face.
Sophie stood upon noticing the group of footmen approaching them, and restraining the King.
'What are you doing!' He bellowed, 'Get your hands off of me!'
'It is time to rest, My Dear.' The Queen comforted, as she took his hands in hers. 'You must rest.'
The King eyed her wearily, before allowing the men to guide him away.
The Queen turned to Sophie: in response she kept her head down.
'Thank you.' The Queen said rather shortly.
Sophie simply offered her a curtsy and a smile.
'Your Majesty.' She stated.
Before anymore was said, the Queen turned her back, walking towards her husband.
'Wait, Sophie. You must come with us!' The man called behind him, stopping in his tracks. 'It is Sophie.' He turned, speaking to his wife.
'After you have rested, Your Majesty.' Sophie answered him, 'I would be most delighted.'
The King seemed to hesitate for a second longer, all eyes on Sophie as he did.
He muttered something, before he continued.

'What was that?' Frances asked, coming to Sophie's side as they watched the group leave.
'I do not know.' Sophie answered her, eyes fixed on the King.

[Author's Note: three more chapters to go!
Now we are so close to the end, I am stuck thinking that the story is awful. I mean I hope it isn't but I suppose you will be the judge of that].