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dragon-kazansky · 4 months ago

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Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

The Viscount is set on finding a wife this season, and you are trying again for your second season. While Anthony is dealing with trials between Edwina and Kate Sharma, you are dealing with trials of your own. Benedict Bridgerton is ever present in your life, but your pursuit to find a husband must come first. Society is ever so exhausting.

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Season Two

Chapter Twenty Three - Drifting paths

Benedict enters Mondrich's new club. It definitely had potential. However, it was rather empty at the moment, just a few people milling about.

Mondrich went over to greet Bridgerton once he noticed his arrival. "Mr. Bridgerton! You honour me with your presence."

"The honour's all mine, Mr. Mondrich. The place looks extraordinary. Though, am I a little early?"

"The crowd will increase with time, naturally." They chuckle and walk into the room. "I heard a rumour that you yourself are an artist."

"Oh. I... dabble."

It's not like Benedict had books filled to the brim with sketches or anything. Especially none full of sketches of you. That would be weird.

"Then, you must meet Mr. Cruikshank. He's a talented illustrator with many connections amongst artists and patrons."

"I'm always excited to meet talented people."

"This is precisely what makes my establishment different, Bridgerton. I know you and your brothers are comfortable at places like White's, but every honest man, regardless of his title, rank, or occupation, is welcome to be here."

Mondrich pours Benedict a drink.

"I must say, Mr Mondrich, I'm quite overjoyed to see what a fine establishment you've but by the sweat of your own honest labour. Hear, hear."

They toast and drink.

The soiree at Lady Danbury's house was quite entertaining. It was put together in honour of Edwina getting to know her suitors better.

You had been invited along with Lord Henry Baxtor to enjoy the evening. Violet Bridgerton was also in attendance with Colin and Eloise.

You gathered with the other guests as one by one, the suitors put on a show, trying to impress Miss Edwina. There was music, magic, dancing, and poetry.

Baxtor would whisper to you every once in a while as he watched men try to woo Edwina with their little part tricks. You would chuckle softly into your gloved hand as you agreed with him on some of the gentlemen.

Edwina was certainly enjoying her evening.

"At least it's the gentlemen making fools of themselves," Kate says from close by.

"Was this your idea?" Elosie asks her.

"No. Lady Danbury concocted this evening for a poetry reading. The gentlemen came up with the rest on their own," Kate chuckles.

"Of course they did."

You chuckle softly and Kate glances at you with a warm smile. "Enjoying the evening?"

"It is most entertaining."

Kate and you smile and turn back to the show. Though Kate does glance at Baxtor beside you for a moment. The man was looking at you with a smile and you didn't even notice.

Kate turns to Eloise. "You're the Viscount's sister, yes?"

"One of them. But do not hold it against me," Eloise smiles at her.

Lady Danbury puts a stop to the performances and smiles at her little audience. "How about a pause?"

Everyone applauds.

Henry offers you his arm, and you smile, taking it. You both head off to get refreshments. You find Edwina talking to Penelope. You give both young ladies a smile and return to Baxtor.

"Are you not going to perform? I would so love to see what you would do," you ask him, handing him his glass.

"Me? Certainly not." He chuckles. "Why perform for someone else when I have a perfectly fine companion with me already?" Henry smiles. He has a very handsome smile.

"Goodness." You feel your face grow warm.

Penelope stands in the corner of the room, having just spoken with Colin only to find out he was no interest in women or love, for the moment at least. She was feeling rather emotional.

Penelope Featherington had been in love with Colin since the day she met him. Her hat had flown from her head and into his face while he was riding, and he fell from his horse. She had spent every day since loving him.

Her eyes glance around the room, and she sees practically everyone with someone.

She has never felt more alone.

Benedict was still in the club. He had just been introduced to the illustrator Mondrich had pointed out to him. They were sitting together with a drink in hand getting to know each other better.

"I saw that Gérard painting. It was a marvel."

"A vision, in fact."

"So you are telling me that he, Leighton, and Turner all studied in the same academy?" Benedict asks.

"Indeed. And they have a vacancy, from what I hear. If you are serious about painting, I hear it is the place to be."

Benedict can't help the excitement that bubbles up inside of him.

Anthony enters the club and spots his brother rather quickly. He walks right over to him. "Brother. I need you."

"I'm in the middle of a conversation," Benedict looks at his brother with slight disdain.

"Outside, straight away."

Anthony leaves abruptly.

"Excuse me." Benedict rises from his chair and follows after his brother. They head outside and Anthony begins talking.

"I need you to teach me how to read that put loud," Anthony hands him a book.

"Byron? Did I strike you much harder than I realised earlier?" Benedict asks him.

"There is a pleasure in the pathless woods."

"Oh..." Benedict gave his brother a look.

"There is a rapture on the lon--" Anthony shook his head. "How does one make this sound good?"

"I'm afraid that's not possible. That poem is the opposite of good," Benedict tells him. He hands the book back.

"That's nonsense. I thought this sort of thing was supposed to be your pleasure." Anthony waves the book around slightly.

"Poetry, yes. Byron, heavens no."

"Is not everyone supposed to love Byron?"

"Many in our year at Cambridge thought my poetry far superior to his."

"Does that mean yours is more or less deceitful?" Anthony asks.

"Deceitful?"

"Hm."

"Poetry is the opposite, Brother. It is the art of revealing precious truth with words."

Anthony chuckles. "Quite right, Brother." When Benedict doesn't laugh too, he stops. "You-- You're being serious?"

"Mm-hmm." Benedict nods.

"Good God. Good night." Anthony brushes past his brother to walk away, but Benedict stops him.

"What is it, truly, to admire a woman? To look at her and feel inspiration. To delight I her beauty. So much so that all your defences crumble, that you would willingly take on any pain, any burden for her."

Anthony looks at his brother. He wondered if Benedict was thinking of someone specific. He would money on who.

"To honour her being... with your deeds and words. That is what the true poet describes."

Benedict can't help imagining your face.

"You should apply yourself more often, Benedict." Anthony tells him. "Write that down."

Benedict looks at his brother in disbelief.

The poem you had just heard was beautiful. Edwina seemed very taken with it. You couldn't help but smile.

"Do you like poetry?" Baxtor asks softly.

"Yes, quite. I have a great admiration for the arts, even when I do not quite understand it sometimes. But you do not need to understand something to appreciate it."

Baxtor looked rather taken by your words. "The way you see the world amazes me.'

"Oh, it's not that deep. I just see things from a different perspective than others, I suppose."

You both chuckle softly.

"Gentlemen, thank you all for the most splendid display of your talents this evening. A memorable occasion, to be sure." Lady Danbury speaks to her guests.

"Pardon me. Lady Danbury?" Anthony approaches.

"Uh, Lord Bridgerton, I did not expect you."

"No, I seem to have fallen off your guest list," he says. "Though surely you'd never deny a young man you've known for nine and twenty years the pleasure of your company? And neither would your footman at the front door."

"Apologies, viscount. You appear to be late again." Kate speaks up. "We were bringing the evening to a conclusion--"

"Surely Miss Edwina has time for one more," Anthony cuts her off. "I spent all evening cragting something. An original. Would you like to hear it?" He asks Edwina.

Edwina nods softly.

"Would everyone like to hear it?" He asks the room. People cheer.

Anthony smiles proudly at Kate. She looks less than pleased but allows him. Anthony takes the centre of the room. You watch him with curiosity. You hadn't known Anthony to be very poetic.

"What is it... truly to admire a woman? To look at her and feel inspiration. To delight in her beauty. So much that all your defences crumble, that you would willingly take on any pain, any burden for her."

He glances at Kate. "To honour..."

He spots his mother. "To hon..."

He spots you. He remembers the ook on Benedict's face when he spoke these words earlier. He hesitates and then crumbles up the paper. He tosses it into the fire.

"My apologies. I cannot do this. I cannot claim the words as my own. They are someone else entirely." He glances at you for a moment. "Truth be told, I'm not--" He sighs. "I'm not a man of poetry. Words of flattery are beautiful and sweet, but they are also hollow unless accompanied by action. Miss Edwina, I could stand here and pretend to be someone I am not. I could pretend to want the very same things as you, butnid be lying. I may not be able to... offer the display of passion that you truly deserve. But I assure you that when it comes to action and duty... I shall never be found lacking. And I hope that is what will speak louder than nay pretty words ever can."

He falls silent.

Edwina is in awe.

Anthony bows his head and then leaves.

You find yourself looking at the flames in the fireplace where that little poem burned away. Who had Anthony got those words from? And why had they made you feel so warm inside?

"More lemonade?"

You snap out of your thoughts and nod at Henry. You give him a smile that he seems to buy and you follow him back to the refreshment table.

Violet stands by her son and watches you go. All she wanted for her children was a love match. By extension, she wants the same for you. Yet, she can't help wondering if there was someone else on your mind.

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