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thecrayonindisguise · 6 months ago

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Chapter 10 Rebinding of Hearts|| Bonds and Barrier

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Original Female Character

Masterpost || << prev || next >>

Word Count: 11.3k

Warnings: no particular warnings

Author's Note: Hey people, I'm back! I am so so sorry for the absence but I had a little of a lack of inspiration and also I failed my exams at the beginning of this month so I was a little down for a few days but here we go after Christmas! Merry Christmas <3 here is your new chapter! Enjoy :)

In the waning light of late afternoon, the world softened, painted in hues of amber and gold.

On the grassy bank of a secluded stream, a quiet intimacy unfolded.

Much younger than she was now, Caterina lay sprawled across the tender earth, her golden dress cascading around her.

Waves of hair framed her face, loose and untamed, catching the occasional glimmer as the dappled sunlight filtered through the canopy of leaves above.

The melodic trickle of water nearby mingled with birdsong, weaving a cocoon of tranquility around the pair.

Beside her, a young man reclined, his gaze steady and warm as it lingered on her.

His hand, strong yet tender, intertwined with hers.

Their fingers fit together effortlessly, the connection between them as natural as the breeze that rustled through the grass.

Here, hidden from the world, they seemed suspended in their own secret universe, both in place and in time.

Caterina tilted her head, the soft curve of a smile gracing her lips.

She turned onto her side, leaning on one elbow, her other hand still entwined with his.

Slowly, she reached out, her free fingers tracing the contours of his cheek with a feather-light touch.

The familiar planes of his face, the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips, ignited a quiet joy within her, unguarded and complete.

His eyes softened, their depth reflecting something unspoken but deeply felt.

The air seemed to still as she spoke, her voice a quiet murmur, carrying both the playfulness and vulnerability of youth.

“Will you love me forever?” she asked, tinged with a hesitancy that only deepened her sincerity.

A part of her already trusted the answer, though she longed to hear it aloud.

He smiled, his hand lifting to brush a stray curl from her face. His fingers lingered for a moment, caressing her cheek as if committing every detail of her to memory.

“Forever, my beautiful,” he whispered, his voice rich and steady, a promise etched into the golden air between them. “My love for you will never end.”

Laughter bubbled from Caterina, soft and unrestrained, a sound as light and natural as the breeze around them.

She tilted her head closer, her eyes sparkling with a joy so radiant it seemed to outshine the sun.

Her laughter danced in the air, weaving into the symphony of nature that surrounded them.

Then, as her laughter ebbed, she leaned down, her lips meeting his in a kiss, soft and unhurried.

His hand cradled her face, his fingers tracing delicate patterns along her cheek.

For a moment, the world melted away, the grass beneath them, the sky above, and the stream murmuring nearby, all fell silent.

There was only them.

─────────

Dearest readers, It seems this season has no shortage of delights, surprises, and intriguing visitors! The Medici family continues to dazzle the ton, with each member leaving their unique impression on our glittering society. While much attention has been directed toward the upcoming nuptials of the charming Miss Teresa Medici and the dashing Lord Ducker, another Medici has entered the fray to stir up even more excitement.

Yes, dear readers, the Duke of Lucca himself, Lorenzo Medici, has arrived in London with his enchanting wife and their two young children. Rumor has it the twins, Miss Teresa and Miss Caterina Medici, nearly toppled the household with their joy at their brother’s early arrival, a heartwarming scene that surely melted the hearts of even the most unflappable Londoners. To mark the occasion, the ever-hospitable Langstone family has announced a grand ball in the Duke’s honor, a soiree destined to be the talk of the season. With such a distinguished guest list and the Medici family’s growing influence in the social sphere, one can only imagine the connections and alliances that may be forged on this glittering evening.

But, my dear readers, do not let the splendor of the Langstone ball distract you from the whispers that swirl around one particular Medici sister. Miss Caterina Medici, known for her poise and charm, has been seen promenading with none other than His Grace, the Duke of Richmond. While their conversations appear the picture of propriety, one cannot help but wonder if a subtle courtship is blossoming amidst the preparations for her sister’s wedding.

And what of the ever-elusive Mr. Benedict Bridgerton, whose recent absences have left some speculating whether a certain young lady’s sharp words have cut deeper than she intended? Could there be more to this tale, or is it merely the folly of wishful observers? Time, as always, will reveal all.

Until then, my dearest readers, let us await the Langstone ball with bated breath and polished slippers. Who knows what revelations, romances, and rivalries the evening may bring?

Yours most faithfully, Lady Whistledown

─────────

The morning light filtered softly through the tall windows of Langstone House, bathing the drawing room in a golden glow.

The hum of activity echoed throughout the estate as the Medici family and their hosts began their day.

The spacious room, adorned with elegant furnishings and richly embroidered drapes, bore an air of refinement that perfectly matched its occupants.

Near the hearth, a cheerful scene unfolded as Teresa and Caterina entertained their young niece and nephew, Vittoria and Luca.

The siblings’ joyous laughter rang out as Teresa guided Vittoria through a game of pretend tea, carefully arranging tiny porcelain cups on a child-sized table.

Caterina, meanwhile, knelt on the floor beside Luca, who was determined to build the tallest block tower his little hands could manage.

“You’re doing wonderfully, Luca,” Caterina encouraged with a warm smile.

Luca’s tongue poked out in concentration as he placed a block at the precarious summit. “This one is the roof,” he declared with pride.

Vittoria looked up from her tea set with the superior air of an older sibling. “Luca, towers don’t need roofs. They’re not houses.”

“They do in my world!” Luca retorted, puffing out his chest.

Teresa and Caterina exchanged amused glances before laughter bubbled from them both.

Meanwhile, at the dining table across the room, Lorenzo Medici and his mother, Lady Medici, sat in conversation.

The Duke of Lucca exuded his usual commanding presence, his sharp features softened by the familial setting.

A half-filled cup of tea rested in his hand as he spoke, his deep voice low but firm.

“Madre,” Lorenzo began, leaning back slightly in his chair. “You have told me much about Tess intended, Lord Ducker, but I remain curious. What kind of man is he? Beyond the surface, I mean. Tess seems content, but I want to know if he will truly make her happy.”

Lady Medici’s blue eyes met her son’s with a calm, knowing gaze. “Lord Ducker is a gentleman of good repute, Lorenzo. He is steady and dependable, qualities that will serve your sister well. His affection for her is evident in his manner, and I believe he will honor and cherish her as a husband should.”

“Steady and dependable,” Lorenzo repeated, his brow furrowing slightly. “Worthy traits, certainly. But does he have the strength of character Tess will need? Marriage is not just a convenient arrangement, Madre, it is a union meant to endure through the years.”

A soft smile played on Lady Medici’s lips. “Your protective nature does you credit, my dear. Teresa’s happiness is my priority, as it is yours. You will have the opportunity to judge Lord Ducker’s character for yourself at tonight’s ball. But I trust my instincts about him.”

Lorenzo nodded, though his expression remained contemplative.

He took another sip of tea before voicing a new thought. “And what of Kitty?”

Lady Medici raised an elegant brow. “What of her?”

“I heard that a certain Duke is showing particular interest in her,” Lorenzo said, his tone casual but inquisitive. “Is there something I should know?”

Lady Medici’s smile grew wider, and she set her teacup down with deliberate care. “The Duke of Richmond has indeed expressed interest in your sister. He has called on her several times and shown himself to be most attentive.”

Lorenzo’s brows knit together in a mixture of curiosity and concern. “And what does Kitty think of him?”

Before Lady Medici could respond, the subject of their conversation entered the room, both sisters still laughing over some private jest.

The two young women approached the table, their steps light and their cheeks flushed from the morning’s play.

Lorenzo turned his piercing gaze on Caterina, his question hanging heavily in the air. “Kitty, I was just speaking with Madre about the Duke of Richmond. I heard he has taken quite an interest in you.”

Caterina froze mid-step, her composure faltering for the briefest moment.

The flush on her cheeks deepened, though this time it was not from laughter. “Oh,” she said, her voice unusually small. “I suppose he has.”

“You suppose?” Lorenzo pressed a note of teasing in his voice. “Either he has or he hasn’t. Which is it?”

Teresa, sensing her sister’s discomfort, intervened with a light laugh. “Lori, you sound like an inquisitor! Poor Kitty can’t even have a quiet morning without you interrogating her.”

Caterina shot her sister a grateful look before managing a composed reply. “The Duke has shown himself to be very kind and… attentive. But it is still early days, and I do not wish to rush to any conclusions.”

Lorenzo’s sharp gaze remained fixed on his sister as if trying to discern the truth behind her carefully chosen words. “Do you enjoy his presence?” he asked, his tone both curious and protective.

Caterina hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the lace edge of her sleeve. “I… I think he is a gentleman of good standing and character,” she said at last. “He is attentive and respectful.”

“But?” Lorenzo prompted.

“But,” Caterina faltered, “I do not know him well enough to say more.”

Lady Medici, sensing that her daughter needed reprieve, stepped in smoothly. “Caterina has always been thoughtful in matters of the heart, Lorenzo. She understands the importance of choosing wisely, and I trust her judgment. The Duke of Richmond is a patient man, and he respects her measured approach.”

Lorenzo nodded slowly, though his expression betrayed a lingering skepticism.

“Very well,” he said at last. “I might arrange an introduction to the gentleman this evening”

“of course,” Caterina assured him, her voice steady despite the turmoil of emotions swirling within her.

As the conversation shifted to the ball’s preparations, Caterina’s thoughts lingered on her brother’s probing questions.

Her gaze drifted to Teresa, who was now playfully helping Vittoria set up a new tea party.

Teresa’s laughter was light and carefree, a stark contrast to Caterina’s own brooding thoughts.

For a moment, Caterina envied her sister’s simplicity, wishing that her own heart could be as easily swayed by kind attentions and steadfast promises.

But deep down, she knew that her heart was anything but simple.

─────────

The sun dipped low in the sky, casting a warm, golden hue across the Medici sisters’ shared dressing room.

The Langstone estate buzzed with activity, the final touches of the evening’s grand ball being perfected by a flurry of servants.

Within the sanctuary of their room, however, the air was quieter, more personal, filled with the rustle of silk gowns and the faint floral fragrance of rosewater.

Caterina stood before the ornate mirror, adjusting the delicate pearl combs in her hair.

Teresa, on the other hand, sat by the window.

Her hands twisting nervously in her lap.

“Tess,” Caterina said gently, glancing at her sister’s reflection, “you’ve been fretting since the moment we returned from luncheon. What’s troubling you?”

Teresa sighed, her shoulders slumping. “It’s Lord Ducker and Lori,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Caterina turned from the mirror, her brow furrowing with concern. “What about them?”

“I’m worried about the impression Lord Ducker will make on our brother,” Teresa confessed, her words tumbling out in a rush. “you know well how he could be, What if he doesn’t approve? What if he finds fault with Lord Ducker?”

Caterina moved to sit beside her sister, taking Teresa’s hands in her own. “Tess, you’re thinking too much about this,” she said softly. “Lori may be protective, but he adores you. And as for Lord Ducker, anyone with eyes can see how much he values you. He’ll see it too.”

“But what if he doesn’t?” Teresa pressed, her voice trembling. “What if he thinks Lord Ducker is insincere or unworthy?”

Caterina squeezed her sister’s hands. “Do you truly believe that?”

“No,” Teresa admitted, shaking her head. “Edward is the most honorable man I’ve ever known. He’s kind, thoughtful… everything I could have wished for. But Lori is different. He values strength and forthrightness, and Edward can be so… so reserved.”

Caterina laughed lightly. “Tess, Lord Ducker isn’t shy. He’s measured. There’s a difference. And Lori will appreciate that once they speak. Trust me, our brother isn’t as difficult to win over as you think.”

Teresa looked at her sister with wide, anxious eyes. “You’re sure?”

“Positive,” Caterina replied with confidence. “Besides, Lori has a sharp eye for character. If Lord Ducker loves you, and it’s clear that he does, Lori will respect that.”

A flicker of a smile touched Teresa’s lips, though doubt lingered in her gaze. “I hope you’re right. I couldn’t bear it if they didn’t get along.”

Caterina leaned closer, her tone playful. “Well, if our brother does find fault, we’ll simply remind him of his own less-than-perfect courtship skills. That should humble him.”

Teresa giggled, some of her tension easing. “He did have a rather dramatic proposal to Beatrice, didn’t he?”

“Absolutely,” Caterina teased. “And if memory serves, she made him wait three months before accepting. Lori may be an intimidating Duke, but even he’s had to grovel for love.”

The sisters shared a laugh, their bond easing Teresa’s worries.

After a moment, Teresa’s expression grew thoughtful. “And what about you, Kitty? Are you nervous about tonight?”

“Me?” Caterina asked, feigning ignorance. “Why would I be?”

Teresa arched a knowing brow. “Perhaps because a certain Duke will be in attendance? Or because Lorenzo might decide to interrogate him next?”

Caterina rolled her eyes, though her cheeks warmed. “Lori wouldn’t dare,” she said, a touch defensively.

“Wouldn’t he?” Teresa countered with a sly grin.

Caterina sighed, rising to retrieve her gloves from the vanity. “I’m not concerned about our brother’s opinions tonight. My focus is on ensuring you enjoy yourself without spiraling into a fit of nerves.”

“Nice deflection,” Teresa remarked, smirking.

Caterina shot her sister a playful glare before returning to her seat. “Tess, tonight is about you and Lord Ducker. Let me worry about my own affairs.”

Teresa’s teasing softened into a warm smile. “You’re always looking out for me, Kitty. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“And you’ll never have to find out,” Caterina promised, brushing a strand of hair from her sister’s face.

The door creaked open, and Teresa’s maid entered with a tray of sparkling jewelry. “Ladies, I thought these pieces might suit the young ladies this evening,” she announced, setting the tray on the vanity.

“Oh, how lovely,” Teresa said, her earlier worry melting away as she admired the shimmering gems.

Caterina selected a delicate sapphire necklace for her sister, fastening it around Teresa’s neck with care. “Perfect,” she declared, stepping back to admire her handiwork.

“And for you, Miss?” the maid asked.

Caterina chose a simple string of pearls, their understated elegance complementing her gown.

As the maid secured the clasp, Caterina glanced at her sister, whose eyes sparkled with anticipation.

“Feeling better?” she asked.

Teresa nodded her smile more confident now. “Much. Thank you, Kitty.”

“Good,” Caterina said, rising to her feet. “Now, let’s make our entrance”

Teresa laughed, taking her sister’s arm. “Lead the way, Lady of Confidence.”

─────────

The Langstone Ball was an affair of unparalleled elegance, a dazzling celebration of the arrival of the Duke of Lucca, and his family.

The Langstone estate, already known for its grandeur, had outdone itself for this particular evening.

Guests began to arrive at twilight, their carriages lining the long drive leading to the stately manor.

As they ascended the marble steps, a murmur of anticipation filled the crisp night air.

The ballroom itself was a masterpiece.

High, gilded ceilings soared above, their intricate designs shimmering in the glow of countless crystal chandeliers.

The walls were lined with tall, arched windows draped in rich velvet curtains of deep burgundy, their edges embroidered with gold thread.

Through the windows, the faint glimmer of lanterns from the garden added an ethereal quality to the scene.

Beneath the chandeliers, a polished parquet floor reflected the light, creating a sense of endless luminosity.

At the far end of the room, an elevated dais held the musicians.

They played a lively yet refined waltz, their melodies weaving seamlessly with the hum of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter.

The music set a tone of joviality and elegance, urging feet to tap and hearts to soar.

The decorations were a sight to behold.

Garlands of roses and greenery cascaded from the balustrades and twined around the golden sconces.

Ornate vases, placed strategically throughout the room, held arrangements of white lilies and crimson peonies, their fragrance mingling with the faint aroma of beeswax candles.

Tables along the periphery bore platters of delicacies, miniature tarts, sugared fruits, and crystal glasses brimming with champagne, attended by an army of footmen.

The guests themselves were a spectacle, a moving tableau of fashion and refinement.

Ladies floated across the floor in gowns of silk and satin, their skirts shimmering in shades of lavender, emerald, and rose.

Jewels glinted at their throats and ears, catching the candlelight with every graceful turn.

Gentlemen, in their impeccably tailored evening coats and cravats, moved with practiced ease, their polished boots clicking faintly against the floor.

The air was filled with the rustle of fabric, the clink of glasses, and the low hum of conversation.

Lady Langstone stood near the entrance, resplendent in a gown of deep blue adorned with silver embroidery.

She greeted each guest with poise, her warm smile a testament to her role as hostess.

Lord Langstone, standing beside her, exuded a quieter authority, his watchful eyes surveying the room with satisfaction.

At the center of attention, however, was Lorenzo Medici, the Duke of Lucca.

Dressed in a finely tailored ensemble of midnight black accented with gold, he cut an imposing figure.

His wife, Beatrice, was equally captivating in a gown of ivory and sapphire, her serene beauty complemented by her gracious demeanor.

Caterina and Teresa were not far behind their brother, each commanding attention in their own way.

Caterina, in a gown of soft green with gold, carried herself with a quiet elegance, her hair swept into an intricate chignon.

Teresa, by contrast, wore a gown of blush pink and radiated a vivacious charm that seemed to light up every corner she entered.

The sisters moved together at first, exchanging pleasantries with acquaintances and admirers.

The atmosphere was electric, charged with the unspoken currents of admiration, intrigue, and ambition.

Conversations ebbed and flowed, ranging from polite inquiries about the journey from Italy to subtle hints of potential matches being observed and judged.

Young ladies glanced demurely at potential suitors, while mothers watched keenly, their eyes flitting between their daughters and eligible gentlemen.

As the evening progressed, the dance floor became the heart of the event.

Couples glided across the floor in perfect harmony, their movements a blend of precision and passion.

The waltz gave way to a quadrille, then a lively reel, each dance a testament to the refined skill and grace of the participants.

Caterina found herself pulled into the festivities, though her thoughts occasionally drifted elsewhere.

She exchanged dances with a few gentlemen, each polite and charming, though none seemed to capture her attention fully.

As she moved across the floor, she caught sight of the Duke of Richmond, his commanding presence unmistakable.

He seemed to be scanning the room, his eyes narrowing slightly when they met hers.

Teresa, meanwhile, was in high spirits, dancing with Lord Ducker and drawing the attention of more than a few observers.

Their easy camaraderie and mutual affection were evident, their shared smiles and occasional laughter painting a picture of a couple deeply in love.

Lorenzo watched them from the sidelines, his expression softening as he saw his sister’s happiness.

─────────

While every corner of the room was alive, amidst the celebration, Caterina’s heart was heavy.

While her lips smiled and her hands gracefully accepted compliments on her gown, her mind was miles away, replaying a moment she wished desperately to undo.

She had decided early that evening, perhaps before she’d even descended the staircase, that she needed to speak with Benedict Bridgerton.

The guilt had gnawed at her since the day of his proposal, her harsh rejection playing on a loop in her mind.

She knew her words had been unnecessarily cruel, a reaction driven more by her own fears than anything he had done.

Tonight, she resolved to set things right.

As the evening unfolded, Caterina slipped away from the crowded ballroom, her heart pounding.

She’d seen Benedict earlier, a fleeting glimpse of his tall frame moving among the guests, his smile warm yet reserved.

Her eyes had followed him until he disappeared, and now, as she scanned the room, she realized he was no longer among the dancing couples or the chatting groups.

Her resolve grew as she moved through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries but always keeping an eye on the corners of the room, hoping for a glimpse of him.

Finally, after what felt like hours, she saw him slipping out to one of the balconies.

The cool night air kissed her cheeks as she stepped onto the balcony.

Moonlight bathed the stone railing, and the sounds of the ball softened to a distant hum.

Benedict stood with his back to her, the moonlight bathed him in silver, highlighting the sharp lines of his profile.

She hesitated for a moment, her courage faltering.

But then she took a deep breath and stepped forward. “A beautiful night, isn’t it?”

Benedict turned, his expression unreadable.

“Miss Medici,” he said, inclining his head politely, “Indeed, it is. Though I suspect it’s even more beautiful inside, where the company is livelier.”

Caterina smiled faintly, encouraged by his light tone. “I think you overestimate the charm of the company, Mr. Bridgerton. I’ve been among them all evening, and yet I find myself out here.”

He raised a brow, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. “Am I to take that as a compliment? Or are you merely admitting to escaping boredom?”

“A bit of both, perhaps,” she replied, her smile growing.

But then her tone turned serious, “Mr. Bridgerton, I’ve been looking for you all evening to… to apologize personally for what happened between us.”

He studied her for a moment, his posture straightening. “You do not need to apologize, Miss Medici.”

“All the contrary,” she insisted, stepping closer, “I do need to. My reaction to your proposal was… disproportionate. Unladylike. Rude, if not even cruel. I cannot fathom what overcame me that day, but I humbly request your forgiveness.”

Benedict’s gaze softened, though there was a guardedness in his eyes, “Miss Medici, you don’t have to explain yourself. I knew the risk when I asked. You gave me your answer; that should be enough.”

“No,” she said firmly, her voice trembling with emotion. “There were a thousand ways I could have refused your kind offer, but I chose the worst. I said things… horrible things about you, about your family. Words I will never forgive myself for. I hurt you in a way I cannot undo, and for that, I am truly sorry.”

For a moment, the only sound was the faint music drifting from the ballroom.

Benedict’s face was unreadable, but then he let out a soft chuckle, surprising her, “You know,” he said, his tone laced with humor, “when we were children, Eloise and I had a game where we tried to outdo each other in saying the most ridiculous things about people. I think you might have won without even trying.”

Caterina blinked, startled, and then a laugh escaped her, soft and genuine. “Is this your way of sparing me from drowning in guilt, Mr. Bridgerton?”

“Not at all,” he replied with a grin. “I simply think it’s unfair that you’re the only one carrying this burden. I should share some of it. After all, I did propose to you in a rather ill-timed and dramatic fashion.”

She shook her head, her smile lingering. “No, the fault lies with me. You’ve been nothing but kind and patient, and I rewarded you with cruelty.”

She hesitated, her voice softening, “I truly value what we had, Mr Bridgerton. Not as it was, of course, but as friends. I know that the love you feel for me is… perhaps momentary, an infatuation that will pass.”

Benedict gave a soft, humorless laugh. “You’re remarkably confident in your ability to assess another’s heart, Miss Medici. Are you certain you’re not mistaken?”

A faint blush crept up her cheeks, but she met his gaze with quiet determination. “I am certain of very little, Mr. Bridgerton. But I do know that I value your presence in my life and would like to preserve it, even in a different form.”

His expression grew thoughtful. “Friendship,” he repeated, tasting the word. “It’s a peculiar thing to aspire to after a rejected proposal, don’t you think?”

“It is,” she admitted, her cheeks warming.

He studied her for a long moment, then smiled faintly. “You’re a rare creature, Miss Medici. Most ladies would simply avoid me. But here you are, seeking to salvage what you can.”

“I’ve never been one to take the easy path,” she replied, a hint of mischief in her voice.

Benedict chuckled, the sound rich and warm. “That much is clear. Very well, Miss Medici. Friendship it is. But I must warn you, I’m a terrible friend. I tell awful jokes.”

Caterina laughed, the sound genuine and free. “I think I’ll manage”

“Wise of you,” he said with a grin.

The moment stretched, their laughter fading into a comfortable silence.

Then Caterina glanced toward the ballroom, her expression turning wistful. “I should return inside. My family will be looking for me… I'm pleased that things have settled between us.”

Before she could step away, Benedict’s voice stopped her. “Miss Medici,” he said, his tone more serious now. “The Duke… is he courting you?”

She froze, the question catching her off guard.

Slowly, she turned to face him, her cheeks tinged with color. “I… yes, I believe he is ” she admitted quietly.

His expression remained neutral, though his gaze seemed to pierce through her. “And does that… please you?”

Caterina hesitated, the question throwing her into confusion. “I, yes. He is kind and attentive,” she said cautiously. “But I do not think it is proper to discuss such matters.”

Benedict nodded, his eyes lowering briefly before meeting hers again. “Of course. Forgive me for prying.”

She offered him a small, polite smile, her composure returning. “Goodnight, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Goodnight, Miss Medici,” he replied, his tone soft.

As she disappeared into the ballroom, Benedict leaned against the railing, his thoughts a tangle of emotions.

Her apology had been heartfelt, her laughter genuine.

And yet, as the night stretched on, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was still more between them, something unspoken, lingering like a shadow beneath the moonlight.

─────────

Benedict remained on the balcony long after Caterina had disappeared into the ballroom, her delicate figure swallowed by the glow of chandeliers and the hum of the crowd.

He gripped the stone railing, its coolness grounding him as his thoughts churned.

The night air was crisp, carrying with it the faint scent of roses from the garden below, yet it did little to calm the storm within him.

Her words lingered like a haunting melody.

“I truly value what we had”

He closed his eyes, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions that her unexpected apology had unleashed.

She had sought him out, searched for him, she had said.

Not for polite conversation, not for obligation, but to apologize.

To make amends.

To heal a wound she had inflicted days ago.

Did it matter that she was sorry?

Benedict wasn’t sure.

The memory of her rejection, sharp and searing, was still vivid.

It wasn’t just the refusal, it was how she had done it.

Her words had been like a whip, tearing into him with precision and purpose.

She had dismissed his love, his sincerity, and him.

The memory still stung.

But tonight…

He opened his eyes and stared into the gardens below, their neatly trimmed hedges and sparkling fountains illuminated by moonlight.

Tonight, she had stood before him, vulnerable and earnest, her voice trembling just slightly as she spoke.

The Caterina Medici who had once cut him down with sharp words had shown a softness he hadn’t seen in her before.

And it unnerved him.

Benedict was no stranger to forgiveness.

In a household as large and lively as his, grudges rarely lasted long.

Eloise’s sharp tongue, Colin’s mischievous pranks, or Hyacinth’s relentless teasing, were daily occurrences, and apologies were often swift and sincere.

But this… this was different.

Caterina wasn’t family.

She wasn’t someone he was obligated to forgive or someone he could easily tease and banter with as if nothing had happened.

She was Caterina Medici.

Beautiful, intelligent, infuriating Caterina.

And she had apologized.

Her words echoed in his mind.

“There were a thousand ways I could have refused your kind offer, but I chose the worst.”

The way she had looked at him, her eyes wide and glistening, had made him believe her.

She had regretted her actions, not just for his sake but for hers too.

Yet, even as he replayed the conversation, he couldn’t ignore the other thing she had said.

The Duke.

Benedict’s jaw tightened as the thought of the man crept into his mind.

He had seen the way her cheeks flushed when he asked about him, the way she had hesitated before answering.

It wasn’t a bashful blush, not entirely, but it was enough to stir something unwelcome in Benedict’s chest.

Jealousy.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut.

He was jealous.

Not of the Duke’s title or wealth, but of the time he spent with her, the smiles he undoubtedly coaxed from her, the way she might be learning to trust him.

Benedict scoffed under his breath, the sound bitter and self-deprecating.

Of course, she would blush at the mention of the Duke.

He was everything a young woman like Caterina could hope for.

A title, a fortune, and no doubt a charming demeanor to match.

He likely didn’t paint sketches or dabble in pursuits society deemed unworthy of a gentleman.

But did the Duke know her?

Benedict frowned at the thought.

Did the Duke understand the way her voice softened when she recounted stories of her family, or how her eyes sparkled when she talked about art?

Did he know how fiercely loyal she was, or how her wit could both challenge and delight in equal measure?

And then there was her laugh.

He could still hear it, clear and genuine, from just moments ago.

It had caught him off guard, the way her guard had slipped and allowed her to laugh at his teasing.

It had been too easy, too natural as if no time had passed since they were friends.

Friends.

The word felt like both a gift and a curse.

She had offered it so sincerely, her voice steady despite the vulnerability in her eyes.

Friendship.

Benedict let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair.

Could he truly stand beside her as a friend, knowing he still loves her?

Knowing she was being courted by another man, a Duke, no less?

Could he watch her smile, hear her laugh, and not wonder what might have been?

Yet, her words had struck a chord in him.

“I truly value what we had”

what we had.

She had chosen that word carefully, and he couldn’t ignore the weight it carried.

Perhaps she did regret how things had ended between them.

But was that enough?

He thought back to the softness in her voice when she apologized.

There had been no falsehood in her words, no artifice.

Caterina Medici was not a woman who apologized lightly, and tonight, she had laid her pride bare before him.

And yet…

Benedict straightened, his grip tightening on the railing.

The Duke.

Benedict sighed, a mix of frustration and resignation settling over him.

He didn’t know the answer.

Caterina had made it clear she wanted to move forward as friends, and he had to respect that.

And perhaps it wasn’t his place to ask.

But the flicker of hope that had ignited in his chest during their conversation refused to be snuffed out.

As he stared out at the moonlit gardens, Benedict allowed himself one brief, selfish thought: perhaps their story wasn’t over.

Not yet.

And as much as he tried to push the thought aside, he couldn’t help but wonder if Caterina felt the same.

─────────

Caterina stepped back into the ballroom, the vibrant swirl of colors and sound washing over her like a tide.

The chandeliers above cast their golden glow across the room, reflecting off jeweled gowns and polished buttons.

The hum of conversation mixed with the lively strains of the orchestra, and everywhere she looked, people were laughing, dancing, and enjoying the festivities.

Yet, she felt a strange detachment, as though she were merely observing from a distance.

Her thoughts were heavy with her conversation with Benedict.

His words, his tone, the way his expression had shifted, everything lingered in her mind like an unfinished melody.

She had meant every word of her apology and every sentiment about their friendship, but his question about the Duke still echoed in her head.

She shook herself lightly, smoothing her gown and taking a steadying breath.

Focus on the present, Caterina.

Scanning the room, her gaze fell upon a familiar figure.

His brother stood near the far corner of the ballroom, engaged in conversation.

Beside him, tall and impeccably poised, was the Duke of Richmond.

Caterina’s heart gave an involuntary flutter at the sight of them.

Her brother, always charismatic, was gesturing animatedly while the Duke nodded, his expression one of polite attentiveness.

Caterina hesitated only a moment before making her way across the room.

As she approached, the Duke’s head turned slightly, and their eyes met.

His lips curved into a warm smile, and Lorenzo, noticing her arrival, broke off mid-sentence to greet her.

“Caterina,” Lorenzo said, his voice warm. “I was just telling the Duke about your infamous talent for convincing me to get into trouble as children.”

Caterina raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Infamous, is it? I recall most of those plans being your idea.”

Lorenzo laughed, clapping the Duke on the shoulder. “Do not believe her, Your Grace. She’s always been far more clever than me.”

The Duke chuckled softly. “I find that entirely believable.”

Caterina felt her cheeks flush slightly under the weight of his gaze.

“The Duke is an excellent conversationalist, though I must say, he is remarkably reserved when it comes to tales of his own mischief,” Lorenzo said with a grin.

“I assure you, I have none worth recounting,” the Duke replied smoothly.

“None worth recounting or none you wish to admit?” Caterina teased gently, her tone playful.

The Duke’s smile widened a faint glint of amusement in his eyes. “A fair distinction, Miss Medici.”

Before Lorenzo could interject, the Duke turned to Caterina. “Miss Medici, would you honor me with a dance?”

The question caught her off guard, though she quickly masked her surprise with a polite smile. “I would be delighted, Your Grace.”

Lorenzo stepped aside, his grin unabashedly teasing. “Try not to step on his toes, sister.”

She rolled her eyes affectionately at her brother before taking the Duke’s offered arm.

He led her gracefully to the center of the ballroom, where couples were already moving in time to a waltz, the soft strains of the orchestra surrounding them in an almost dreamlike haze.

The flicker of candlelight cast a warm glow across the polished floors, and the laughter and chatter of the guests added a lively undercurrent to the atmosphere.

As they began to dance, Caterina found herself acutely aware of the Duke’s presence.

His touch was firm yet gentle, his hand steady at her waist, guiding her effortlessly through the intricate steps.

His posture was regal, as though he were born to lead, and Caterina, in contrast, felt herself falling into the rhythm of his command with a certain quiet ease.

Yet, despite the grace of their steps, her mind drifted, her attention slipping from the Duke for a mere moment as her gaze wandered across the room.

And there, in the far corner of the ballroom, she briefly spotted him.

Benedict.

His eyes caught hers from across the sea of swirling dancers, and in that instant, a wave of emotions rose in her chest, catching her off guard.

So caught up in the sight of him, Caterina’s foot caught on the hem of her gown, and she stumbled slightly, her body swaying dangerously off balance.

Her hand instinctively gripped the Duke’s shoulder for support, and she felt a sharp gasp escape her lips.

The Duke, ever the gentleman, steadied her instantly, his hand tightening reassuringly around her waist.

“Are you well, Miss Medici?” he asked, his voice calm but laced with concern.

Caterina’s heart raced, a flush creeping up her neck.

“I’m fine,” she quickly replied, her words a little too sharp, betraying the sudden flurry of thoughts in her mind. “It was nothing.”

She regained her composure and adjusted herself in the dance, forcing her attention back to the Duke.

The music resumed, and their feet began moving in tandem once more, but her thoughts lingered on the fleeting moment she had shared with Benedict.

His presence always had disrupted the careful mask of composure she had been wearing so tightly.

“You seem distracted, Miss Medici,” the Duke remarked softly after a moment, his tone light but observant.

Caterina blinked, offering him a faint smile. “Not distracted, precisely. There is simply much to think about these days.”

“A fair answer,” he said, his expression unreadable. “Planning a wedding must be quite an undertaking, even if it is not your own.”

She laughed softly. “That is an understatement. My sister has more opinions about flower arrangements than I ever thought possible.”

The Duke chuckled, his gaze warm. “And what of you? Are you fond of such events, or do you merely endure them for the sake of duty?”

Caterina hesitated for a fraction of a second, considering her answer. “I enjoy them, in truth. The music, the dancing, the chance to see familiar faces, it has its charm. But I must admit, there are moments when I long for something simpler.”

“A sentiment I understand all too well,” he replied, his tone thoughtful. “There is a certain appeal in escaping the grandness of it all, even if only for a little while.”

Their conversation ebbed and flowed as the dance continued, light and polite.

His questions were thoughtful, his attention undivided, and yet, despite his charm, Caterina’s thoughts kept drifting.

does that… please you?

Benedict’s question replayed in her mind, unbidden and persistent.

She felt her cheeks warm as she recalled how Benedict had looked at her when he asked it, not with bitterness or anger, but with something deeper, something she couldn’t quite name.

Did she like the Duke?

She couldn’t deny his many admirable qualities.

He was kind, intelligent, and undeniably handsome.

But did she feel for him the same way she felt for Benedict?

The comparison was impossible to ignore, and she chastised herself for even entertaining the thought.

“Miss Medici?” the Duke’s voice broke through her reverie, and she realized she had been silent for longer than was polite.

“My apologies, Your Grace,” she said quickly. “I fear I’ve been a poor conversational partner.”

“Not at all,” he said, his tone reassuring. “If anything, I’m grateful for the respite from questions about the latest political debates or hunting expeditions.”

She smiled, genuinely this time. “In that case, I’m glad to be of service.”

The waltz came to an end, and the Duke led her back toward the edge of the dance floor.

As they paused, he bowed slightly. “Thank you for the dance, Miss Medici. It has been a true pleasure.”

“The pleasure was mine, Your Grace,” she replied with a graceful curtsey.

As he stepped away to rejoin the crowd, Caterina found herself letting out a quiet breath.

She glanced around the ballroom, where she briefly spotted Benedict, and felt a pang of uncertainty.

What am I doing?

She couldn’t deny the Duke’s kindness or the potential of what he offered.

But something about tonight, about Benedict’s words, his presence, and even her apology, had stirred feelings she thought she had buried some time ago.

Taking a deep breath, Caterina turned back to the crowd, determined to face the rest of the evening with poise.

But in her heart, she knew that the questions swirling in her mind would not be so easily silenced.

─────────

The soft glow of the morning sun poured through the grand windows of Langstone’s drawing room, casting a warm, golden light that reflected off the ornate furniture and elegant décor.

It was a peaceful morning after the excitement of the ball the night before, the lingering energy of the evening still hanging in the air like the gentle notes of a sweet melody.

The laughter and chatter of women filled the space, accompanied by the soft sound of teacups clinking and the occasional delighted exclamation from the children playing at the hearth.

Lady Medici, regal as ever, sat poised in her favorite chair near the window, her fingers delicately holding a cup of tea as she gazed out at the well-manicured garden.

Beside her, Lady Langstone looked equally content, her eyes twinkling as she caught up with her cousin, discussing the success of the previous night’s event.

Beatrice, Lorenzo’s wife, sat near her, her calm demeanor almost a mirror image of Lady Medici’s, but with a gentler air.

She glanced occasionally at the two young children, Vittoria and Luca, who were playing near the fire with their toys, their laughter filling the room with lightness.

Vittoria was especially animated, weaving intricate stories with her dolls, while Luca tried to mimic her in the most endearing way possible.

Cynthia and Olympia, ever the lively pair, occupied a chaise lounge, their heads together in whispered conversation, their eyes twinkling with mischief.

The lively discussion of the ball was at its peak, each woman recounting a detail or a fleeting moment from the evening before.

They spoke of the grandeur of the event, the music, the dances, the gentlemen, everything that had made the night unforgettable.

“You know,” Lady Langstone said, her voice rich with excitement, “I think the ball was one of the finest we’ve had in weeks. The atmosphere was so lively, and the guests… well, they certainly kept things interesting, didn’t they?”

Lady Medici chuckled lightly, her voice low but full of warmth. “Indeed. It seemed as though everyone in town was eager to attend. I dare say the guest list alone could have kept some of the ladies up for weeks, debating who was invited and who wasn’t.”

Beatrice laughed, her eyes brightening with amusement. “And the dancing! I haven’t seen such energy on the floor in ages. I think even my feet are still aching from all the waltzes.”

The lighthearted conversation swirled around Caterina and Teresa, who sat quietly together on a loveseat by the window.

The two sisters, though not speaking, were very much in tune with one another.

They shared an almost telepathic bond, their silent communication enough to convey everything that words could not express.

Teresa looked radiant as always, the excitement of her engagement still fresh in her expression, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Despite the joy that filled the room, something lingered in the air around Caterina, a quiet restlessness, an unease that she couldn’t quite shake.

Her thoughts kept returning to the conversation she’d had with Benedict on the balcony. His words had stayed with her, even as she tried to convince herself that things were fine.

She had apologized for her rude refusal, for the sharp words she had said to him, and he had graciously accepted.

It was the right thing to do, but somehow, the weight of what had transpired between them remained, unresolved in her heart.

As the ladies continued their discussion, Caterina’s gaze wandered to the children again.

Vittoria had just dropped her doll and was now chasing Luca around the room, laughing as the boy, with his round face flushed with excitement, tried to escape her.

The scene brought a soft smile to Caterina’s lips, though her mind was far from the carefree playfulness of the children.

She turned her gaze back to her sister, who was watching her with quiet curiosity.

Teresa noticed immediately.

She always did.

With a gentle nudge of her elbow, she leaned toward her sister, her voice low enough for only Caterina to hear. “Kitty” she began softly, her tone carrying a quiet concern. “What’s bothering you? You’ve been distant all morning.”

Caterina hesitated, her fingers curling around her teacup as she looked at her sister. “It’s nothing, really. Just… the ball, I suppose. Everything feels like it’s moving so quickly. I’m not sure where I fit into all of it anymore.”

Teresa raised an eyebrow, her gaze sharp and knowing. “Don’t be ridiculous. You fit just fine, as always. What’s really bothering you?”

Caterina sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly as she placed her teacup back on the table. “I spoke with Mr Bridgerton last night. After everything that happened, I felt I needed to apologize for the way I treated him.”

Teresa’s eyes widened in surprise. “You spoke to him? I thought you would never do such a thing, you told me”

Caterina looked down, her fingers tapping nervously on the edge of the cup. “I know. But I had to. It wasn’t fair to him. He didn’t deserve the things I said.”

She glanced at her sister, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “I apologized, and we’ve agreed to be friends. But…” She faltered, not sure how to put it into words.

“But?” Teresa prompted, her voice gentle but insistent.

Caterina hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “But it feels strange, Tess. He’s like changed. There’s this distance between us now, something that wasn’t there before. And I don’t know how to bridge it.”

Teresa considered this for a moment before responding, her voice thoughtful. “You can’t expect everything to go back to how it was. But you did the right thing. You apologized. What more can you do?”

Caterina nodded, though she wasn’t entirely convinced. “I suppose. I just… I don’t want to lose that connection with him.”

Teresa smiled, her gaze softening. “It just takes time. Just don’t overthink it. Let it unfold naturally.” She paused, her tone lightening.

The conversation lulled as the two sisters exchanged quiet thoughts, their connection growing deeper with every shared word.

Soon enough, the conversation turned back to the lively chatter of the other ladies, and the children’s laughter again filled the room.

─────────

The Bridgerton dining room, with its high ceilings and wide windows, was bathed in the golden light of a late morning.

The polished mahogany table gleamed beneath a pristine white cloth, laden with a spread of fresh fruits, breads, and steaming pots of tea.

The sounds of laughter, clinking china, and the occasional rustle of paper echoed through the room, creating a symphony of domestic cheer.

At the head of the table sat Lady Bridgerton, her posture elegant as she sipped her tea with an indulgent smile, watching the lively chatter of her sons.

To her left was Anthony, already impeccably dressed despite the early hour, his dark brows furrowed slightly as he buttered a slice of toast.

Benedict, seated across from him, looked far more relaxed, his cravat slightly askew and a mischievous gleam in his eye.

Colin, perpetually the least serious of the lot, lounged in his chair, occasionally snatching a pastry from a passing tray.

Their cousin, Lord Edward Ducker, sat at the other end of the table, a picture of youthful enthusiasm.

Despite his attempts to appear composed, his animated gestures as he recounted the events of the Langstone ball betrayed his excitement.

Beside him sat his mother, Lady Ducker, who watched her son with amused indulgence.

Edward leaned forward, his eyes bright. “I must say, the Langstone ball was a rather splendid affair. Everything was so well-orchestrated, from the music to the decorations. And the Medici family, what a commanding presence they have.”

Colin raised an eyebrow as he bit into a scone. “Commanding, you say? Is that your polite way of saying they’re intimidating?”

Edward grinned, undeterred. “Not at all. Though I must admit, Miss Medici’s brother, the Duke of Lucca, does have a rather… formidable air.”

“Formidable?” Benedict repeated, his voice dripping with amusement. “Now that’s an understatement if I’ve ever heard one. The man looked as though he could cut someone down with a single glance.”

“Perhaps,” Edward conceded, a slight flush creeping up his neck. “But I found him to be perfectly civil. We had a long discussion about estate management and—”

Anthony interrupted, his tone dry. “You mean he interrogated you about your intentions toward his sister.”

Edward blinked, taken aback. “Not exactly. Though I do believe he wanted to gauge my character.”

“And did you pass the test?” Colin asked, leaning forward with mock seriousness.

Edward straightened his shoulders. “I’d like to think so. He even called me a ‘respectable gentleman.’”

The Bridgerton brothers exchanged glances before bursting into laughter.

“Respectable!” Benedict said, feigning astonishment. “Edward, you’ve truly outdone yourself. To earn such high praise from the Duke of Lucca is no small feat.”

Colin clapped his hands together. “We should have a plaque made: ‘Edward Ducker, Respectable Gentleman, Approved by the Duke of Lucca.’”

Even Anthony smirked, his usually stern expression softening. “I hope you realize that’s the equivalent of him saying he doesn’t actively despise you.”

Edward rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Laugh all you like, but I’m confident I made a good impression. And I’d like to see any of you fare better in his presence.”

“Oh, I’d fare just fine,” Benedict said, leaning back in his chair. “I’d compliment his fine taste in Italian architecture and steer clear of any mention of his sister.”

Lady Ducker, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke up. “Edward, darling, if you spent half as much time focusing on Miss Medici as you do worrying about her brother, you’d be married by now.”

The room erupted into laughter, even Edward joining in despite his reddening cheeks.

“She’s right, you know,” Colin said, grinning. “You’re marrying his sister, not the Duke.”

Edward sighed dramatically, running a hand through his hair. “You lot are impossible.”

“And you’re easy prey,” Benedict countered, his grin widening.

Lady Bridgerton, ever the voice of reason, tapped her teacup lightly with her spoon. “Boys, let your cousin have his moment. He’s navigating uncharted waters, after all. Engaging with the Medici family is no small task.”

Edward nodded, his expression softening. “Thank you, Aunt Violet. Though I must say, Miss Medici makes it all worthwhile.”

The sincerity in his voice brought a brief pause to the table, and even the teasing Bridgerton brothers couldn’t help but smile.

“That’s the spirit,” Anthony said, his tone unusually approving.

“Indeed,” Colin added, raising his teacup in a mock toast. “To Edward, the brave and respectable gentleman.”

As laughter filled the room once more, Edward glanced at his mother, who gave him a small, encouraging smile.

It was clear that, despite the jesting, the Bridgertons were firmly in his corner.

Just as the conversation began to shift, a footman entered the room, announcing that the carriages would soon be ready for their errands.

The brothers rose reluctantly, their morning banter drawing to a close as they prepared for the day ahead.

As the group dispersed, Lady Ducker turned to Edward, her tone teasing. “You handled that well, my dear. But next time, perhaps don’t give them quite so much ammunition.”

Edward chuckled, adjusting his cravat. “It’s a fine line, Mother. But I’d rather be teased by the Bridgertons than face another interrogation from the Duke”

Lady Ducker laughed softly, looping her arm through his as they left the room. “You’ll be fine, Edward. If you can survive this family, you can survive anything.”

In the sunlight-dappled halls of Bridgerton House, the warmth of family lingered, a comforting contrast to the grandeur of the balls and the weight of impending proposals.

─────────

The Langstone gardens bathed in the golden hues of a gentle afternoon sun, were alive with the laughter of children.

Caterina knelt on the soft grass, weaving yet another daisy crown for her niece, Vittoria.

The little girl sat cross-legged in front of her, her cheeks flushed with delight as she chattered about becoming the queen of the garden.

Luca, her younger brother, toddled nearby, clutching a stick he had declared his royal scepter.

Teresa, seated on a cushioned bench nearby, kept an amused eye on them all, her hands busy embroidering a handkerchief. “Careful, Luca,” she called her voice light with affection. “You might accidentally dethrone Queen Vittoria with that scepter of yours.”

Luca turned and gave her a gap-toothed grin. “I’m the king!” he declared proudly, waving his stick.

“And a fine king you’ll make,” Caterina said, tying off the last flower in the crown.

She reached forward, placing it gently on Vittoria’s head. “There. Now you look regal enough to rule the entire estate.”

Vittoria clapped her hands and twirled, her giggles ringing like bells. “Thank you, Aunt Cat! I shall knight Sir Luca as my royal knight!”

“Knight or not, I think Luca prefers wielding that scepter like a warrior,” Teresa quipped, nodding toward her nephew as he brandished the stick in a mock battle against an invisible foe.

Caterina laughed, brushing the grass from her skirts as she stood.

The scene was idyllic, yet beneath the laughter, her thoughts were far from peaceful.

She had spent much of the day trying to untangle the complexities of her heart, though no answers had come.

As if summoned by her unrest, Lorenzo appeared at the far end of the garden path, his tall figure framed by the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees.

He paused, watching his sisters and his children with an expression that blended fondness and contemplation.

After a moment, he strode toward them, his boots crunching softly on the gravel.

“What a picturesque gathering,” Lorenzo called as he approached. “Queens, knights, and their devoted subjects. I almost feel underdressed.”

“Do you ever feel overdressed?” Teresa teased, setting her embroidery aside as she smiled up at her brother. “I believe your wardrobe consists solely of austere tailoring.”

“I’ll have you know, this jacket is quite fashionable,” Lorenzo replied, mock offense lacing his tone. “But I came here seeking the wisdom of my sisters. Kitty, would you walk with me?”

Caterina’s curiosity flickered as she handed Vittoria her scepter and took Lorenzo’s offered arm.

“Seeking wisdom from me? That sounds ominous, brother” she said with a teasing lilt. “Do you have a particularly challenging decision that only I can solve?”

“You’ll see,” Lorenzo replied, leading her down the shaded garden path.

Once they were out of earshot, his tone shifted, becoming more serious. “I wanted to ask your thoughts about Lord Ducker.”

Caterina raised a brow, taken aback by the question. “Lord Ducker?”

“Yes,” Lorenzo confirmed. “You’ve spent time observing them together. What do you think of him?”

Caterina considered her answer, a smile tugging at her lips. “I think Lord Ducker is… solid. Like a fine oak tree. Dependable, sturdy, and quite rooted.”

“An oak tree?” Lorenzo echoed, his lips twitching in amusement. “Is that your way of saying he lacks charisma?”

“Not at all,” Caterina replied, feigning indignation. “I’m saying he’s reliable, which is precisely what one would want in a husband. Tess adores him, and he clearly worships her. He’s respectful and kind”

Lorenzo chuckled, nodding. “You’re right. He does seem to care for her deeply. But as her brother, I still can’t help but worry.”

“That’s your job, isn’t it?” Caterina said, squeezing his arm. “To worry about all of us endlessly. But truly, Lori, Tess is happy. She’s chosen well.”

Lorenzo sighed, though a smile lingered on his lips. “I suppose I should trust her”

They walked in companionable silence for a moment before Lorenzo turned to her with a pointed look. “And what about you?”

Caterina blinked, suddenly wary. “What about me?”

“What are your thoughts on the Duke?” he asked, his tone casual but his eyes sharp with interest.

Caterina felt heat rise to her cheeks. “The Duke is… a gentleman,” she replied cautiously. “Polished, courteous, and every bit the image of nobility.”

“And yet,” Lorenzo pressed, “your tone suggests there’s more you’re not saying.”

Caterina hesitated, her gaze dropping to the gravel. “I suppose I haven’t spent enough time with him to form a complete opinion,” she admitted. “He is… impressive, but I, well, I find it difficult to know what to think.”

Lorenzo stopped walking, turning to face her.

His expression was both serious and curious. “There’s something you should know,” he said after a moment.

Caterina frowned.

Lorenzo exhaled, his voice lowering. “The Duke approached me last night. He asked for my permission to propose to you.”

Caterina froze, her eyes widening. “He… he asked for your permission?”

“He did,” Lorenzo confirmed. “I told him that while I wouldn’t oppose the idea, the decision ultimately rests with you. But I thought you should be aware.”

Shock rippled through Caterina, leaving her momentarily speechless.

The Duke of Richmond, thoughtful, polished, and enigmatic, wanted to propose.

The weight of it pressed on her chest, and she struggled to find her voice.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” she stammered.

“You don’t have to say anything right now,” Lorenzo said gently. “But I wanted you to know”

Before Caterina could gather her thoughts, Teresa’s voice rang out from the other end of the path. “Lori! Kitty! Vittoria insists her royal court requires your presence.”

Caterina exhaled a shaky breath, grateful for the interruption.

As Luca and Vittoria came racing toward them, Lorenzo stepped back, giving her a small, knowing smile.

Their conversation was left suspended, the implications of his words lingering like a shadow over the garden.

Caterina bent to scoop Luca into her arms, but her thoughts were miles away, tangled in questions without answers.

What did she truly feel about the Duke?

The main reason why she and Teresa are in London.

The Duke was everything a lady of her status should desire: handsome, noble, refined, a man of dignity and integrity.

His courtship had been respectful, methodical, and patient.

And his intentions were clear, he was not merely seeking her beauty or her fortune, but the prospect of a genuine partnership.

It was everything she had been taught to want, everything that made sense for her future.

Yet, even as she stood there, surrounded by the quiet comforts of Langstone House, the warmth of her family’s presence beside her, her mind drifted back to a moment that had stolen her breath and shaken her very foundation.

Benedict Bridgerton’s proposal.

The words echoed in her mind, louder than any conversation she had had with the Duke.

Why, did she find herself thinking of him now?

Why, when the Duke’s proposal was no longer just a possibility but an imminent reality, did her mind keep drifting back to Benedict and his words?

The truth was, that Caterina felt conflicted.

The Duke was everything she could want but Benedict…

Could she move forward with the Duke, allowing herself to be swept into a future of security and respectability, or would she always wonder how could have been if she had said yes to him that evening?

─────────

The fading light of the day poured softly into Caterina’s room, casting long golden beams across the lush rug and furniture.

The silk curtains, tied back with braided cords, fluttered gently in the evening breeze, adding a quiet rhythm to the stillness of the space.

In the corner, Vanessa carefully unpacked the accessories for the evening, a shimmering array of pearls, and a delicate gold necklace.

The gown, already laid out on the fainting couch, was a masterpiece of craftsmanship: soft ivory silk with gold embroidery tracing delicate vines along the bodice and hem.

It was perfect for dinner at the Bridgerton estate, a subtle statement of refinement and elegance.

Yet, amidst all this beauty and quiet preparation, Caterina sat at her dressing table, lost in thought.

Her hands rested idly in her lap, her gaze fixed not on her reflection in the ornate mirror, but on some invisible point beyond it.

Vanessa, ever watchful, paused in her task of untangling a pearl necklace. “My lady” she began gently, “if I may be so bold, you’ve been unusually quiet this evening. are you quite well? Is something troubling you?”

Caterina blinked, her gaze snapping back to the present.

She met Vanessa’s eyes in the mirror and forced a faint smile. “oh yes, I am perfectly fine. nothing troubling” she replied, though the lie was evident in her voice.

Vanessa arched a brow, her hands deftly fastening the necklace onto a padded stand. “Forgive me, but I’ve known you long enough to recognize when ‘nothing’ is quite the opposite.”

Caterina sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “I suppose I cannot hide anything from you,” she admitted. “It’s just… tonight feels heavy as if there’s more at stake than there should be.”

Vanessa came to stand beside her, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Dinner with the Bridgertons? Surely it’s nothing to worry about. They seemed charming and kind people”

“It’s not the dinner itself,” Caterina murmured. “It’s what lingers beneath it all. The expectations, the undercurrents.” She hesitated, her fingers toying with the edge of the lace handkerchief on the table. “Vanessa, the Duke is courting me. And… I believe he intends to propose.”

The maid’s expression didn’t change, though her hand on Caterina’s shoulder stilled for a moment. “I suspected as much,” she said carefully. “And how does that sit with you, Miss?”

Caterina bit her lip, turning to face her maid directly. “I don’t know,” she confessed, her voice trembling slightly. “By all accounts, I should be elated. Becoming a duchess is everything a woman could hope for especially when her partner is kind, dignified, and undeniably handsome.”

Vanessa’s gaze softened. “But?”

“But when I think of a life with him,” Caterina continued, “I feel… hollow. Not because he’s lacking in any way, but because I don’t know if I belong there.”

Vanessa took a seat on the small upholstered stool beside her. “Miss Caterina, it sounds as though you’re trying to convince yourself of something you don’t feel. The heart doesn’t obey logic or societal rules.”

“I know that,” Caterina said, frustration creeping into her voice. “But it’s more than that.”

Vanessa studied her for a moment, then asked quietly, “Do you love him?”

The question hung in the air like a challenge, and for a long moment, Caterina couldn’t answer.

Instead, her mind drifted to another man.

Vanessa must have seen the flicker of something in Caterina’s expression because she leaned closer. “It’s not the Duke you’re thinking of, is it?”

Caterina’s cheeks flushed a deep rose, and she turned her gaze to the window, refusing to meet her maid’s perceptive eyes. “That’s irrelevant,” she said softly, though her voice carried a faint quiver. “I did not come here to fall in love, Vanessa. All the ton knows that.”

Vanessa tilted her head, her lips curving into a gentle smile. “Perhaps, Miss, but I’ve found that love rarely cares for plans or intentions. It tends to bloom in the most inconvenient of places.”

Caterina let out a faint, humorless laugh, her fingers nervously tracing the intricate embroidery on her gown. “You speak as though it’s a blessing. For me, it feels like a curse, a complication I cannot afford.”

Vanessa crossed her arms lightly, watching her mistress with a steady gaze. “And yet, you speak of love as though it’s already found you.”

“I never said—” Caterina started, but Vanessa held up a hand, silencing her with a knowing, almost sisterly look.

“You didn’t have to, Miss. Your eyes betray you,” Vanessa said gently, her tone neither prying nor judgmental. “If it’s not the Duke of Richmond who stirs this turmoil in you, then who?”

Caterina froze, her throat tightening as memories rushed forward unbidden.

She clenched her hands into fists, forcing herself to push the memory away.

She shook her head firmly, her jaw tightening as though to physically banish the thought. “Who it is does not matter,” she said with a strained calmness.

Vanessa’s brows lifted slightly, her expression softening with curiosity and quiet understanding. “Oh, but it does matter. It matters if it’s someone who holds your heart.”

Caterina turned abruptly to the vanity, her fingers brushing over the edge of a silver hairbrush as if grounding herself with the sensation. “No, it doesn’t,” she said, her voice sharper now. “Because my heart cannot afford to belong to anyone. Not him. Not the Duke. Not anyone.”

Vanessa approached slowly, her movements deliberate and gentle. “Forgive me, Miss, but you’re not the type to let fear dictate your choices. Why now? Why deny yourself this?”

Caterina let out a bitter laugh, one devoid of mirth. “Because it’s not about what I want. It’s about what I must do. My family needs me to make a wise match. I cannot…will not be a source of shame or disappointment again. I need to repair for what I did.”

Vanessa’s lips pressed into a line, her eyes filled with a blend of empathy and frustration. “My lady choosing love is neither reckless nor shameful. The events of the past now mean nothing, Don't let yourself become a victim of the past, you are still capable of love”

The words struck Caterina harder than she cared to admit.

Her grip on the hairbrush tightened her reflection in the mirror a portrait of poise cracking at the edges. “You make it sound so simple,” she said quietly.

Vanessa tilted her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “It’s never simple. But the right thing rarely is.”

Caterina’s gaze dropped to her lap, her fingers fiddling with the lace of her gown.

The weight of Vanessa’s words pressed against the walls she had so carefully constructed, and for a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to feel the truth of them.

But the moment passed, and she straightened her shoulders, donning the mask of composure she had perfected over the years.

“Thank you, Vanessa,” she said softly, signaling the end of the conversation.

Vanessa hesitated, then nodded, stepping back to give her mistress the space she seemed to need. “Of course, Miss.”

As the maid returned to her duties, Caterina’s mind churned with thoughts and emotions she couldn’t quite name.

The mirror before her reflected not just her image but the storm brewing within, a storm she would have to hide before stepping into the Bridgertons’ dinner.

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thecrayonindisguise · 7 months ago

Text

Chapter 9 Breaking the bonds that bind|| Bonds and Barrier

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Original Female Character

Masterpost || << prev || next >>

Word Count: 9.1k

Warnings: no particular warnings

Author's Note: Heyy!! I am alive! I am finally here with a new chapter! I’m so sorry for the delay, but I had no internet or Wi-Fi for days, so I was just blocked with my thoughts for a long time :)) - with this chapter, I am stretching the plot one more time, but just because I wanted to introduce new characters (I promise this is the last time....or maybe not). Enjoy!

Oh, dear readers,

what a dazzling night it was at last evening’s masquerade ball!

Masks may have covered faces, but not a whisper could escape my attention.

Indeed, there was a jewel that sparkled brightest, and it was none other than Miss Teresa Medici, whose engagement to Lord Edward Ducker was officially announced amidst murmurs, fanfare, and all manner of hidden glances.

Isn’t it a thrill to imagine? Miss Teresa, once known merely as the quieter Medici twin, has indeed outshone her sister in matters of matrimony.

And may I say, with Lady Medici nearly fainting from pride, it seems Miss Teresa has swiftly, and cleverly, secured the affection of a most eligible gentleman.

Lord Ducker, to his credit, is the picture of steadfastness and promise, and though he’s a man of considerable decorum, I couldn’t help but catch his almost boyish delight as he secured the hand of Miss Medici.

Well done, indeed.

But what, I hear you murmur, of her sister Miss Caterina Medici?

Ah, yes, Miss Caterina, one of the “Diamonds of the Season,” who so skillfully garnered everyone’s gaze from the very start, has found herself in a rather…unanticipated predicament.

It seems that while Miss Caterina initially sparkled as the most desired of the twins, her path has taken a twist that has left her admirers scratching their heads and her rivals (of which there are more than a few) smiling with vindication.

It is curious, is it not, how quickly the tables have turned?

While Miss Teresa now plans her wedding, Miss Caterina remains unbetrothed, despite her recent attempt to ensnare the rather elusive Mr. Benedict Bridgerton, a proposal she shockingly refused.

And so, the young woman who once seemed destined for a title finds herself watching her sister march down the aisle before her.

Well, dear reader, there’s a lesson to be found here: diamonds, after all, are precious, but they can’t sparkle forever if kept hidden away.

Only time will tell if Miss Caterina’s fortune shall reverse again, or if she’ll continue to watch from the sidelines as her sister takes the spotlight she once held.

Until then, we shall wait and see who, if anyone, will once again set her heart, and the ton, aflame.

Yours as always, Lady Whistledown

───────── The Langstone House buzzed with the kind of energy that seemed to shake even the wall, it was so alive with a contagious, almost electric energy in the wake of Teresa’s engagement, that every corner seemed to hum with anticipation.

It was the start of what would be a whirlwind month, filled with discussions, fittings, and endless preparations.

The Langstone sisters, and Teresa, had become the center of this bustling activity.

Both Lady Medici and Lady Langstone were fixed in deep conversation, bouncing ideas off one another about every possible detail of the upcoming wedding.

In the lavishly decorated sitting room, morning light streamed through the tall windows, casting a warm glow over the women gathered there.

The low table in front of them was already strewn with fabric samples, sketches of floral arrangements, silver-edged menu cards, and a variety of lace trims.

Teresa sat at the center, eyes sparkling with joy as she sifted through every sample with a sense of wonder and excitement that seemed endless.

Meanwhile, Caterina sat in a plush armchair by the window, watching the commotion with a soft but distant smile.

The memory of the masquerade lingered, its weight pressing heavily on her despite her best efforts to be present for her sister.

The whispers from that night still haunted her, and each joy-filled smile that passed across her sister’s face seemed to deepen the ache in her heart.

“This is divine!” Lady Medici exclaimed, holding up an intricate ivory lace. “The detailing is so fine, it’s exactly what I had envisioned for the veil.”

Lady Langstone, sitting beside her, nodded approvingly. “Yes, only the best will do for my dear nephew”

Teresa’s cheeks flushed with happiness.

She reached out to touch the lace, almost reverently, her fingers brushing the fabric delicately.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, eyes gleaming. “I can’t believe this is all happening. It feels so… surreal.”

The whole room erupted in laughter, swept up in the thrill of the moment.

Only Caterina’s laugh seemed muted, a faint smile as she took in the happiness of those around her.

She knew she should be ecstatic; she wanted nothing more than for her sister’s joy to be her own.

But inside, she was adrift, her thoughts tangled in the pain of her own recent experiences.

As the women continued to discuss the finer details, Lady Langstone looked over at Caterina and noticed her reserved demeanor. “Caterina, dear,” she said kindly, drawing her attention. “You’re awfully quiet. Are you feeling quite well?”

Caterina blinked, as though pulled from a dream, and forced a reassuring smile. “Oh, I’m perfectly well, dear aunt” she replied, nodding. “It’s just… overwhelming, in the best of ways, of course.”

Lady Langstone tilted her head, studying her with a mother’s knowing gaze. “It’s a big event, no doubt about it. But you’ve been Teresa’s steadfast companion all her life, she’s lucky to have you by her side now.”

Teresa’s gaze softened as she looked over at her sister, her hand reaching out to grasp Caterina’s. “I wouldn’t want to do this without you, Kitty. You’ve always been here for me; you know exactly what I’d love.”

Caterina squeezed her sister’s hand, her own smile becoming warmer, if not entirely genuine. “And you know I’d never want to be anywhere else, Tess. This is your day, and I wouldn’t miss a moment of it.”

Lady Medici leaned forward, giving Caterina an encouraging pat on the knee. “Your turn will come, my dear. With all you’ve endured and all your heart holds, the happiness you deserve will find its way to you too.”

Caterina nodded, though her gaze drifted to the side, focusing on the sunlight dancing through the window.

She wanted so badly to believe her mother’s words, but the recent sting of the masquerade night was still too fresh.

With a subtle exhale, she focused instead on Teresa, whose smile was like a beacon of happiness, momentarily brightening even her shadowed heart.

Lady Langstone interrupted the moment with a clap of her hands. “Alright, let’s talk flowers! Roses, of course, are a must, but what other arrangements do you think would complement them best?”

Teresa’s eyes sparkled as she looked from her mother to Lady Medici, fingers tapping lightly on her lap. “I adore carnations,” she said softly, glancing at Caterina with a warm smile. “It reminds me of the countryside, Kitty… of the wildflowers we’d pick together as children.”

Lady Medici’s expression softened, and she quickly agreed. “carnations it is, then. And perhaps some peonies, lilies, and sprigs of rosemary for fragrance. It will be beautiful, a bouquet as elegant as our Teresa.”

Teresa’s cheeks flushed pink as she looked from her mother to Lady Langstone, her joy evident. “Thank you, Mama, auntie. I can hardly believe how perfect it all sounds.”

Amid the laughter and camaraderie, Caterina found herself lost once more in thought, her mind drifting to the painful memory of Benedict’s comments at the masquerade.

The weight of it hung over her like a shadow, and no matter how many times she reminded herself of the present, the past kept surfacing, tugging her back.

She glanced down at the lace swatches in her lap, the intricate patterns blurring as her eyes focused on something distant and unseen.

Lady Langstone’s voice brought her back again, breaking through her reverie. “And of course, there will be the engagement ball to plan as well. It must be perfect, grand yet tasteful.”

Teresa beamed, her eyes sparkling. “An engagement ball,” she murmured, almost as if savoring the words. “It’s all so wonderful.”

“Wonderful and deserved,” Lady Medici said firmly. “A match as fine as this one doesn’t come often, and we shall celebrate it fully also I was thinking of hosting a beautiful dinner here to celebrate the union of our families”

She looked to Caterina as if hoping her enthusiasm would spread to her other daughter. “And Caterina, my dear, I trust you’ll be at the heart of it all, right beside your sister.”

Caterina nodded her smile a delicate mask that hid the turmoil within. “Of course, mama,” she said softly. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

The mothers continued discussing plans, speaking of silk tablecloths and crystal chandeliers, while Teresa was practically floating with excitement, her every word and glance a portrait of anticipation and delight.

Watching her sister’s happiness brought a bittersweet comfort to Caterina, but as she looked around the room, the reality of her own heartache seeped back in.

She could almost hear the echoes of Benedict’s voice, the coolness of his words, and her own surprise and pain.

She tried to banish the memory, tried to stay anchored in this joyous moment for Teresa, but it clung to her like a shadow she couldn’t shake.

But despite the distance she felt, she resolved to keep her focus here, on Teresa’s joy.

In Teresa’s world, a new chapter of love and anticipation was unfolding, while Caterina’s own had grown clouded, burdened by a heavy sense of uncertainty that refused to dissipate.

With one last look out the window, where sunlight played against the lush green lawns, Caterina gently shifted in her seat.

Lady Whisledown…

“While Miss Teresa now plans her wedding, Miss Caterina remains unbetrothed, despite her recent attempt to ensnare the rather elusive Mr. Benedict Bridgerton, a proposal she shockingly refused. And so, the young woman who once seemed destined for a title finds herself watching her sister march down the aisle before her.”

Her fingers clenched slightly around the paper’s edge as she reread the lines, almost willing them to be rewritten, reshaped into something kinder.

She looked up and around the room, seeing her family so wholeheartedly engaged, so blissfully unaffected.

The sounds of laughter, the whisper of fabric and lace, her sister’s excited voices each one only made Lady Whistledown’s words echo louder in her mind.

She felt trapped as if the walls were narrowing in around her, the paper still clenched in her hand, a remnant of London’s whispers that somehow felt louder than the bustle of her family.

But then a voice of a maid cut through her thoughts “My lady?”

“Yes?” Caterina replied, the paper still in her hands as she looked up, trying to brush aside the clouds of Lady Whistledown’s words.

“A visitor has arrived, a call from His Grace, the Duke of Richmond. He requested your company for a promenade and brought flowers to accompany his request.”

The maid's voice was gentle but firm, and her mother’s gaze snapped up, a flicker of intrigue glinting in her eyes.

“The Duke of Richmond?” Lady Medici repeated, her tone laced with curiosity and something close to approval. “He thought to call on you, Caterina?”

“I think he did,” Caterina replied, her heart fluttering with the shock of the Duke’s unexpected visit.

─────────

The Bridgerton breakfast room was a study of soft elegance that morning.

Sunlight poured through the tall windows, spilling over the rich wood furniture and the gleaming marble floors.

There was a pleasant warmth to the air as the chatter of the Bridgerton family filled the room, a perfect harmony of voices that spoke to the comfort of long family mornings.

The clinking of silver spoons against porcelain, the soft rustling of napkins, and the faintest scent of coffee and freshly baked pastries mingled together.

At the head of the table, Violet Bridgerton sat with her usual graceful composure, a faint smile tugging at her lips as she listened to the animated conversation around her.

Edward, sat across from her, looking both pleased and a little embarrassed by the sudden focus on him.

His mother, Lady Ducker, sat beside him, her eyes shining with pride, her voice warm with excitement.

“Well,” Lady Ducker said, lifting her cup delicately, “I must say, I am absolutely delighted for you, dear. You could not have chosen a more lovely young lady than Miss Teresa. She is an absolute treasure, and I’ve no doubt their match will be one of the season’s most talked-about.”

Violet’s smile deepened, a soft but knowing glance cast toward Lady Ducker. “I could not agree more, Louisa. Truly, Miss Teresa is everything Edward could have wished for. I’m pleased for both of them.”

Edward, looking slightly uncomfortable with the praise, shifted in his seat.

His mother noticed his discomfort and turned her gaze toward him. “It’s true, my dear. we are not more than right. There is no one better suited for you. The two of you are meant to be.”

Edward’s smile returned, though it was tinged with a faint blush. “Thank you, Mother. I… I truly hope so. I feel very fortunate.”

The conversation shifted back to the upcoming engagement ball, and the room seemed to light up even further with talk of preparations.

“We must ensure that everything is perfect,” Francesca said, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she leaned forward on the table. “Miss Medici deserves nothing less than the grandest celebration. It will be the talk of the season!”

Hyacinth, always eager to contribute, piped up from the other side of the table, “I’ll handle the flowers! Perhaps we can have roses, but not just any roses, pink and cream, with a hint of lavender, for a touch of elegance.”

Lady Ducker smiled at Hyacinth’s enthusiasm. “Those sound like wonderful choices, Hyacinth. I know Miss Medici will appreciate your effort.”

Francesca nodded thoughtfully. “And the food! It must be exquisite. I’m sure we’ll have everything. Even a special cake?”

“Cake is always the most important part,” Benedict Bridgerton teased, lifting his coffee cup dramatically. “No one ever remembers the lamb, but the cake? It’s always the center of attention.”

Colin, sitting beside Benedict, grinned. “Especially if you’re sneaking bites before the guests arrive, brother. I think we all know where you’ll be.”

Benedict feigned a look of mock indignation, but his smile betrayed his amusement. “I may be a man of refined tastes, Colin, but I’ll leave the first slice to the bride and groom. Perhaps just a taste before the festivities, though.”

“Well, Benedict,” Anthony said with a smirk, “don’t forget, you’ll have to make an appearance at the ball. There will be eyes on you. You don’t want to disappoint our guests by sneaking off to the dessert table too early.”

Benedict raised an eyebrow at his older brother. “Don’t worry, Anthony. I’ll be on my best behavior. You can count on me not to make a scene.”

Violet, sensing the light-hearted teasing might shift the tone, smiled at Benedict, her voice carrying the warmth of a mother who had seen all her children grow into the adults they were. “We all know Benedict will behave, but let’s not forget the reason we’re celebrating. Teresa and Edward’s future.”

“Yes,” Lady Ducker interjected, a knowing smile on her face, “It’s truly a match made in heaven, and the wedding will surely be the highlight of the season.”

“Well, I can think of another jewel who’ll be turning heads at the ball,” Colin said with a grin, looking toward his older brother. “I trust you’ll be keeping an eye on her, isn't it Benedict?”

Benedict huffed at his brother and his gaze drifted for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as he glanced toward the window.

His thoughts weren’t on his brother’s teasing anymore

Instead, they lingered on someone else.

“Benedict?” Violet’s voice brought him back to the table.

She’d noticed his distraction. “Is everything well?”

He blinked, realizing he’d been lost in thought. “Of course, Mother,” he replied quickly.

“Everything is set for the ball, then?” Violet continued, guiding the conversation back to safer ground “And we shall all make sure Miss Medici has everything she needs.”

The conversation at the table continued with the usual warmth and then Lady Ducker’s voice suddenly lifted again above the others.

“I was thinking of hosting a small dinner at home someday,” she announced, beaming with satisfaction. “It will be intimate, just family. We’ll celebrate this engagement properly, with a feast and some well-earned toasts.”

Edward smiled faintly, glancing at his mother. “That sounds lovely, Mother.”

“And of course, all the Medici family will be there,” Lady Ducker added, her eyes twinkling with approval. “I think it will be the perfect opportunity for them to get to know some of our acquaintances a little better, and for the rest of us to congratulate her in a more personal setting.”

Benedict shifted uncomfortably in his seat as his aunt’s words echoed through his mind.

The Medici family will be there.

He felt an unexpected jolt at the thought, a flicker of something that unsettled him.

It had been only days since the rejection that had come like a quiet thunder, leaving him feeling both foolish and oddly exposed.

He hadn’t seen Caterina since that evening and hadn’t allowed himself to linger on the thought of her, or so he’d tried.

But now, the idea that she would be there, sitting across from him at some small, intimate dinner, laughing with her sister, caught in the same candlelit glow… It was absurd that the thought affected him this way, but it did.

He had told himself he was done with idle fantasies, that he was moving forward with a clearer purpose, yet here he was, struck with a pang of anticipation that he could not quite shake.

Would she even acknowledge him? he wondered.

Would she be cold and distant, as she had been before, or would she soften, perhaps look at him in a way that might suggest something unspoken?

His mind raced, replaying fragments of their last encounter, the things he’d wished he had said, the things he’d wished she had.

He caught himself, forcing a practiced smile as he looked back at his family, nodding along as though he hadn’t just fallen into a spiral of his own making.

───────── Caterina’s hand trembled slightly as she set down the latest issue of Lady Whistledown, but she quickly steadied herself, taking in a deep breath as she met her mother’s watchful gaze.

Lady Medici was scrutinizing her daughter with a look of mixed curiosity and approval; the news of the Duke’s unexpected visit had shifted the attention of the entire room.

“Well, Caterina,” her mother murmured with a small smile, gesturing toward the door, “it would be rather rude to keep the Duke waiting.”

“Of course, Mama,” Caterina replied, trying to sound as collected as she could.

She smoothed the delicate folds of her dress, lifting her chin slightly as she prepared to meet the Duke, her heart fluttering with both anticipation and a hint of trepidation.

The past evening still hung over her, a shadow that seemed reluctant to release her.

As she made her way down the staircase and stepped into the morning light filtering through the Langstone House foyer, her eyes fell upon the Duke of Richmond waiting in the front hall.

He stood there with an air of quiet confidence, his tall figure poised with the kind of ease that only came naturally to men of his rank.

In his hand was a small bouquet of wildflowers, their colors vivid and vibrant, a soft contrast to the more formal arrangements that usually filled the rooms of the house.

“Your Grace,” Caterina greeted, offering a polite curtsy as she reached him.

“Miss Medici,” he replied, bowing in return, his gaze lingering on her with a warmth that made her cheeks flush ever so slightly.

He extended the bouquet to her. “These are for you. I thought perhaps a bit of nature’s beauty might provide some respite amidst all the wedding bustle.”

Caterina accepted the flowers, their sweet, delicate scent enveloping her. “Thank you, Your Grace,” she said, glancing up at him. “They’re lovely. And your timing is most welcome.”

She was grateful for the unexpected opportunity to step away from the house, away from Lady Whistledown’s relentless scrutiny and the constant hum of wedding preparations that had begun to feel overwhelming.

The Duke offered her his arm. “Shall we take a stroll, then?” he suggested with a gentle smile. “I thought perhaps a breath of fresh air might lighten the spirit. And,” he added, glancing at her with an understanding that surprised her, “I imagine a change of scenery might be in order, given all that was written about you today.”

A slight laugh escaped her, and she nodded, allowing herself to lean into his kindness. “Yes, I believe that would be perfect.”

They walked in silence for a few moments, the cool morning air brushing over them as they strolled through the well-manicured gardens of the house.

The Duke spoke of the changing seasons, of the beauty he found in the falling leaves, but Caterina’s mind kept returning to the masquerade, to the strange, bitter ache she felt when she thought of Benedict.

She wondered, as they walked side by side if there would ever come a time when thoughts of him did not intrude so heavily.

“Are you quite well, Miss Medici?” the Duke asked, his voice gentle as he seemed to notice her drifting thoughts.

She blinked, looking up at him and forcing a soft smile. “Forgive me, Your Grace. My mind seems to wander today.” She paused, uncertain if she wanted to burden him with her feelings, yet there was something genuine in his expression that encouraged her to continue.

“I suppose I am simply… reflecting on certain events,” she admitted, her voice low.

The Duke nodded, his expression understanding. “Reflection is natural, though it can be a rather lonely exercise.”

He gave her arm a gentle pat as they strolled. “But today, perhaps we might fill our minds with lighter thoughts?”

Caterina’s smile softened as she met his gaze, and she felt her heart ease slightly. “Yes, perhaps you’re right. Tell me, Your Grace, how do you find the excitement of wedding preparations?”

A hint of a laugh danced in his eyes.

“Well, I must admit that I am quite pleased not to be at the center of it. I’ve attended many weddings, and they all seem to involve more fuss and fabric than any one event should ever need.”

He paused, glancing at her as if weighing his words. “But I do imagine there is something charming in such a grand celebration, even if I am not one to particularly enjoy the spotlight.”

Caterina chuckled, finding herself more at ease in his company. “I suppose it’s rather overwhelming for all involved. But I’m happy for my sister. It’s a joy to see her so deeply in love.”

The Duke looked at her thoughtfully. “And do you think love will come to you in such a manner, Miss Medici?”

Her smile faltered, a brief flicker of sadness crossing her face. “I… I’m not sure. Perhaps I once thought it would, but now I wonder if some things are not meant to be.”

She looked away, her gaze settling on the path ahead. “Sometimes, it feels as though the idea of love has become… rather clouded for me.”

They fell silent once more, the path stretching out before them under the dappled morning sunlight.

The Duke seemed to sense her quiet reluctance to dwell on the matter, and he gracefully shifted the conversation to lighter topics, the gardens, the countryside, and his travels across Europe.

As they continued their walk through the gardens, Caterina felt a lightness creeping into her, buoyed by the Duke’s pleasant company.

When he sensed her slight hesitation, the Duke shifted topics with ease, glancing over at her with a twinkle of interest in his eyes.

“I have been meaning to tell you, Miss Medici,” he began, “I recently had the pleasure of visiting Italy, though, I must admit, only the famed cities of Venice and Rome. They were extraordinary, but I have long wished to explore more of the country. Florence, especially. I imagine it must be… remarkable.” He paused, his gaze warm as he looked at her, his curiosity evident.

Caterina’s face brightened, her expression softening at the mention of her homeland. “Florence is indeed remarkable, Your Grace. In fact, I believe Tuscany has its own magic. It’s not just the beauty of the art or the grandeur of the architecture. It’s… the feeling of the place, the landscape itself. Tuscany is golden fields, winding roads, and hills that seem to stretch into forever.”

The Duke listened intently, his eyes reflecting genuine fascination. “I suppose one can only appreciate such things after seeing them firsthand. The Italian countryside always seemed to me to be the setting of a painting, beautiful and serene.”

Caterina’s heart swelled with pride and nostalgia.

“Yes, exactly. The art and the landscape blend together, almost inseparable. I grew up surrounded by paintings, sculptures, and frescoes that are centuries old, yet they feel alive. My hometown, Lucca in particular, is where the beauty of nature seems to flow seamlessly into the genius of human creation.”

“Then I must make it a point to visit,” the Duke replied, his voice sincere. “Perhaps you would recommend some places to see, beyond the obvious, of course.”

“Oh, there is so much,” Caterina said, her enthusiasm carrying her words. “There are galleries, of course, but also quieter places… little chapels and gardens hidden from the usual paths. And the countryside! Each season transforms it. Spring, for example, brings a wild bloom of colors to the fields. It’s hard to describe. You must see it with your own eyes.”

“I feel as though I am already seeing it through yours,” he replied softly, and there was something in his gaze, a respect, an admiration, that made Caterina’s heart skip.

Is he really interested in what I have to say?

“Thank you for sharing this. It’s rare to meet someone who speaks with such genuine love for their homeland.”

She looked down, smiling to herself. “I suppose Italy is not just where I come from; it’s a part of me.”

She laughed a little, realizing how wistful she must have sounded. “And if I’m honest, sometimes I miss it more than I can say.”

The Duke nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps one day, you might return there.”

“Perhaps,” she murmured.

They walked on, both quiet for a moment as they contemplated her words.

Caterina felt a warm sense of camaraderie grow between them as they walked on, exchanging stories of travels and art.

For a time, she felt she could let go of her worries, allowing herself to simply enjoy the morning and the Duke’s company.

When they finally returned to the house, the Duke paused, turning to her with a thoughtful look.

“Thank you, Miss Medici,” he said. “This morning has been… refreshing, to say the least. I can’t remember the last time I felt so at ease.”

Caterina’s heart softened, and she curtsied with a gentle smile. “Thank you, Your Grace. It was my pleasure, truly.”

Before leaving, the Duke offered a warm invitation, asking if she might join him for dinner sometime soon.

Though she declined in favor of spending time with her family, Caterina promised she would accept his invitation soon.

And as she watched him walk away, she couldn’t help but feel that she had found a kindred spirit in him, perhaps something that she could use to push the pain of her last days to the bottom.

─────────

Several days later….

The midday sun streamed through the grand windows of Langstone House’s dining room, bathing the table in a warm, golden glow.

The air was filled with a comforting hum as Caterina, Teresa, and Lady Medici shared their meal, enjoying a rare, quiet moment amidst the whirlwind of preparations for Teresa’s engagement celebrations.

Over the past few days, the household had been a constant flurry of movement and excitement, and it was a relief to have a pause, even just for lunch.

Suddenly, the calm was broken by a knock at the door, followed by the entrance of a footman carrying a silver tray with a single letter placed delicately atop it.

He cleared his throat and presented it to Lady Medici, bowing as he offered it.

“Thank you, Thomas,” she said with a nod, noting the familiar handwriting on the envelope.

Her heart quickened slightly as she traced the familiar script. “Oh god, it’s from Lorenzo!”

At her words, both Caterina and Teresa’s heads snapped up, excitement flashing in their eyes.

Lorenzo, their beloved older brother, had been away for months, managing their estate in Lucca.

They had missed him dearly, often sharing stories of his humor, warmth, and protectiveness, wondering when he might be able to join them in London.

“From Lorenzo?” Teresa exclaimed, her face lighting up with anticipation.

She leaned forward, her hands clasped tightly, while Caterina’s breath caught as she waited for her mother to read aloud.

Lady Medici broke the seal, her eyes eagerly scanning the letter.

As she read, her expression softened, then brightened, a smile spreading across her face.

“Oh, my dear girls,” she began, glancing up at them with shining eyes. “Lorenzo and his wife have just departed Lucca. They’re on their way to London with the children. He wanted us to know he would never miss such an important occasion in our family.”

Teresa let out a delighted gasp, clapping her hands together. “He’s really coming? Oh, Mama, that’s wonderful news!”

“Yes, my dear,” Lady Medici replied, her own voice tinged with emotion. “He’s bringing the children, too. They’re all making the journey just to be here for us.”

Caterina’s heart swelled with joy.

It had been so long since they’d all been together, and the idea of her elder brother’s comforting presence brought back a flood of cherished memories.

Lorenzo had always been a figure of stability and warmth in her life, someone who understood her deeply, and who cared for her and her sister fiercely.

“Oh, how marvelous!” Caterina’s voice was soft but filled with excitement. “I was hoping he would come, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up. Tess, just think! We’ll have him here with us again!”

Lady Langstone, seated beside Lady Medici, was just as delighted. “What a joyous surprise, Marie,” she said warmly. “we’re honored to host more of your family during these celebrations, after all, he’s my nephew too”

Lord Langstone, too, nodded in agreement, his normally reserved expression brightening. “Indeed, the presence of the Duke of Lucca will be a great addition to our home. And I daresay our staff will be eager to accommodate such special guests.”

Lady Medici smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Lord Langstone. Your hospitality means so much to us. And the children…well, they will bring such energy! They’re so curious about everything, and they’ll no doubt find London fascinating.”

Teresa leaned toward Caterina, her eyes gleaming. “Oh, Kitty, can you imagine it? Vittoria and Luca running around! They’ll love it here!”

Caterina chuckled, picturing the lively children filling Langstone House with laughter.

She could already envision the way the young ones would light up the estate, bringing a dose of innocent joy to balance the often serious and reserved atmosphere of London society.

“Yes,” she agreed, her smile widening. “And Vittoria, even with her four years, will likely charm every member of the household.”

Lady Medici’s gaze softened as she looked between her daughters, pride radiating from her. “Lorenzo has always been so devoted” she murmured. “Every letter he writes is filled with questions about the two of you. He’s longed for this reunion as much as any of us.”

Just then, Lord Langstone spoke up, his voice full of warmth. “Lady Marie, it will be our pleasure to extend our hospitality. We’ll arrange the finest rooms for your son and his family.”

Lady Langstone nodded in agreement. “I’ll see to it, perhaps we can arrange a dinner once they’ve settled in or even a ball it would be lovely!”

The Langstone sisters could not be more thrilled for a ball at their house.

Lady Medici’s smile deepened, gratitude evident in her eyes. “Thank you both, truly. A family reunion like this is a blessing, Lorenzo’s arrival will make this celebration all the more complete.”

The sisters exchanged a look of shared joy.

They had often leaned on each other, especially now with Teresa’s impending marriage, but to have their beloved brother here, Lorenzo, who had always been a guiding light in their lives, meant more than words could convey.

The thought of the familiar laughter, the shared stories, and the closeness they would feel as a family filled them with anticipation.

For a moment, the worries and burdens each sister carried seemed to fade, leaving only the promise of happy days ahead.

And as the servants moved to clear away the last of the luncheon plates, the women at the table continued to talk eagerly about Lorenzo’s arrival, planning how they might celebrate together once he and his family were finally reunited with them in London.

Caterina felt a lightness she hadn’t experienced in days.

The thought of seeing Lorenzo, of sharing in the joy and love that had defined their family, brought a deep sense of peace, a reminder that no matter the trials of society or the uncertainties of love, she would always have her family to return to.

─────────

Dearest readers,

It seems that London is once again alight with delightful whispers, and this writer’s quill is ever-ready to deliver the juiciest morsels of news.

Firstly, one cannot ignore the recent antics of Lord Cresswell, who was reportedly seen leaving Lady Edith’s garden party in the company of not one, but two rather charming ladies. Is it simply the thrill of the season? Or perhaps our Lord Cresswell has taken the phrase “more the merrier” a bit too much to heart.

And as for Miss Amelia Darlington, whose “intentions toward scholarship” have caused quite the stir, it has been noted that her frequent visits to the Royal Library might involve far less reading than she professes. It’s been rumored that a certain librarian has captured her interest just as much as any novel ever could.

Yet, as captivating as these tidbits are, they pale in comparison to the grand affair all of London anticipates with bated breath: the wedding of Miss Teresa Medici and Lord Edward Ducker.

Preparations are underway for what promises to be a dazzling union, complete with finery that even the Queen herself might envy. Rumor has it that the engagement ball alone will be a vision of elegance, with flowers imported from the Mediterranean and a guest list to rival that of any royal gathering.

But there is more to this wedding than meets the eye, dear readers.

For it appears Miss Caterina Medici, may have garnered the attention of a certain Duke of Richmond.

Yes, you read that correctly.

The ever-charming Duke has made quite a show of attention toward the young lady, even gifting her flowers, expensive one! Could it be that the Duke’s interest is more than just a friendly gesture? Or might we soon see yet another Medici romance blossom in the heart of London?

Keep your eyes open, dear readers, for the season is only just beginning to unravel its secrets…

Yours faithfully, Lady Whistledown

─────────

The air in Madame Delacroix’s shop buzzed with energy, filled with the hum of feminine chatter, laughter, and the soft rustling of fine silks.

The Medici family, Teresa, Caterina, and their mother, entered the elegant modiste with Lady Langstone and her daughters, Cynthia and Olympia, in tow.

The lavishly decorated room was already bustling, ladies bustling from one stand to the next, draping themselves in vibrant shades of satin and lace, trying on delicate gloves, and admiring bolts of ivory and cream destined for wedding gowns.

The scent of roses and lavender drifted through the shop, mingling with the gleam of sunlight filtering through tall windows, casting a soft glow over the rich fabrics.

As they stepped further inside, Teresa’s eyes sparkled with wonder, and even the composed Caterina felt a stirring of excitement at the luxury of it all.

“Ah, there’s Lady Bridgerton!” Teresa whispered excitedly, gesturing to the back of the shop, where Lady Bridgerton stood with her three daughters, Eloise, Francesca, and young Hyacinth.

Close by, Lady Featherington had claimed a grand seat near a mirror, her daughters Prudence, Philippa, and Penelope flanking her.

The familiar chatter and peals of laughter from the Featherington girls seemed to draw every eye, as they inspected feathers, lace, and jewelry with dramatic expressions.

“Oh, Lady Medici!” Lady Bridgerton exclaimed with a warm smile as the two families met in the center of the room. “What a joy to see you here. I can only imagine the excitement of wedding preparations for the dear Teresa!”

Lady Featherington, catching wind of the introduction, fluttered over with her trademark enthusiasm.

“Yes, indeed! How marvelous to think of a wedding, Miss Medici, you are bound to be the loveliest bride of the season!” she declared, turning to her own daughters, “Though of course, Prudence and Philippa would look just as stunning, would they not?”

Prudence beamed, adjusting an oversized bonnet with a somewhat triumphant look, while Philippa struck a pose, clearly imagining herself as the center of attention.

Lady Medici inclined her head with a gracious smile. “Thank you, Lady Featherington, Lady Bridgerton. We’re quite thrilled with all that ahead.”

Caterina, standing close to her mother, couldn’t help but watch the Featheringtons’ antics with a raised brow, while Cynthia and Olympia exchanged smirks at the sisters’ dramatic declarations.

The atmosphere was cheerful yet frenetic as each lady pointed out her fabric of choice, inspected delicate lace, or admired the latest styles.

Finally, Madame Delacroix, her elegant figure clad in a sleek black dress, approached with her assistant. “Ah, Mademoiselle Medici! It is a delight to serve you today. We shall begin with measurements, yes?” She gestured toward a private corner set with a velvet chaise and full-length mirrors.

As Teresa was led away with a slight blush, Lady Featherington glanced at Lady Bridgerton and said loudly enough for the entire shop to hear, “If only my dear girls had such luck! Philippa, dear, why not try the pale green satin, it matches your complexion perfectly.”

Philippa preened, catching sight of her reflection, and tilted her chin in an attempt at grandeur. “Yes, Mother, it is perfect, isn’t it?”

Hyacinth Bridgerton, who had been quiet thus far, giggled and whispered to Francesca, “If she turns any more to the side, she’ll disappear completely in that hat!”

Francesca stifled a laugh, while Lady Bridgerton gave Hyacinth a gentle nudge, her expression fondly exasperated. “Now, Hyacinth, let us not disturb our friends.”

As the shop filled with excitement, Caterina spotted Eloise standing beside Penelope, both looking a bit detached from the fuss around them.

Summoning her courage, Caterina approached them, keeping her tone light and formal.

“Miss Eloise, Miss Penelope,” she greeted them with a polite nod. “It’s lovely to see you both.”

Eloise’s face showed a flicker of surprise before she returned the greeting, her tone cool but civil. “Miss Medici. I hope the wedding plans have been as smooth as expected?”

“Oh, they’ve been progressing wonderfully, thank you,” Caterina replied with a smile but then she spoke again.

“Miss Eloise, I don’t want to be inappropriate but..” her voice low and controlled, “I wanted to speak to you about your brother”

Eloise turned, surprise flickering across her face.

Her gaze sharpened as she waited for Caterina to continue.

“I owe him an apology,” Caterina said, feeling the words settle heavily in her chest. “The way I rejected him, well, it was not only rash but unkind too. I… hope he can forgive me.”

Eloise tilted her head, folding her arms as a small, amused smile played on her lips. “oh Miss Medici you don’t need to worry about my brother” She raised an eyebrow, her tone laced with dry humor. “Benedict’s always been a bit let’s say… sensitive.”

Caterina’s eyes widened slightly, surprised by the bluntness. “I’m sorry?”

“Yes, He’s taken everything personally since he was a boy,” Eloise replied a glint of mischief in her eyes. “Even when he was little, if someone so much as hinted they didn’t like one of his drawings, he’d be absolutely crestfallen for days. So he doesn’t need this much apprehension, he is gonna be fine…trust me” She said with mock exasperation.

Caterina stifled a laugh, her expression softening as she absorbed Eloise’s words. “Still, Miss Eloise I would like him to know that I didn’t mean what I said. He might have taken it to heart, but it was never my intent to wound him. The relationship we shared was precious to me, and I’d hate for him to think otherwise.”

Eloise’s expression shifted, her gaze softening with something almost like understanding.

She nodded slowly as if weighing the sincerity of Caterina’s words. “Very well,” she said finally, her voice gentler than before. “I’ll pass it along. Though knowing Benedict, he’ll probably brood for a bit before he even listens to reason.”

A faint smile touched Caterina’s lips, her gratitude evident. “Thank you, Miss Eloise. That’s all I could ask.”

Their conversation was interrupted as Lady Featherington’s voice rang out across the shop, calling to her daughters. “Penelope, darling, we must get home. There’s a fitting for Prudence’s gown this afternoon, and we really mustn’t keep the seamstress waiting.”

Penelope glanced at Eloise with a resigned smile. “I suppose I must go,” she whispered.

Eloise rolled her eyes in solidarity. “Good luck,” she muttered, squeezing Penelope’s arm.

Lady Bridgerton also rose, her gentle smile directed at Teresa, who was still surrounded by lace and silk swatches as Madame Delacroix worked.

“We shall take our leave as well, ladies. Do not let us disturb the bride-to-be any further,” she said kindly. “She’ll need calm and tranquility to look her best.”

Teresa blushed but smiled, her eyes glowing with excitement.

As they turned to leave, Penelope cast a glance over her shoulder at Caterina, her expression curious.

She waited until they were outside the shop before leaning in close to Eloise, her voice low and thoughtful.

“Eloise… do you really think that she regrets what she said to your brother?”

Eloise raised an eyebrow, frowning slightly. “Regrets?”

“Yes, well, perhaps she regrets her words because…” Penelope hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “She said their relationship was precious to her”

Eloise scoffed, a bemused smile tugging at her lips. “whatever. I don’t think Benedict will listen to me. he’s been in his usual solitary confinement so he’s been painting in his studio for days."

Penelope pulls her friend’s arm again "But Eloise please, you have to tell him. You must tell him what Miss Medici told you today, you could stir something between them"

Eloise puffs again, bored by her friend’s insistence, and nods "I’ll try, promise”

───────── The days leading up to Lorenzo’s arrival were filled with a kind of hurried elegance, the Medici and Langstone households swept up in the perpetual motion of wedding preparations.

Morning teas turned into strategy meetings for flower arrangements, while afternoons saw ladies perusing through fabric samples or debating over last-minute adjustments to guest lists and other settings.

Caterina often found herself drawn outside, seeking brief respites from the bustling rooms and the watchful eyes of her mother and Lady Langstone.

She walked through the gardens, letting the crisp air revive her spirit, feeling that familiar pull toward nature, a place where thoughts could stretch without constraint.

These quiet promenades allowed her moments to breathe, but as the days passed, she found herself sharing her solitary escapes with none other than the Duke of Richmond.

The Duke, noticing her occasional absences from the crowded rooms, had taken it upon himself to offer her company during these outings.

What began as gentle strolls along the garden paths evolved into a more spirited endeavor.

A few days after their first walk, he proposed they take a ride on horseback, an offer Caterina accepted with a hesitant smile that quickly turned to genuine excitement.

One bright morning, just after sunrise, they met near the stables, their horses saddled and ready.

They mounted their horses and set off, letting the horses’ hooves carry them along a winding path that cut through fields bathed in golden light.

As they rode, they talked in a way that only came easily in the open air, where conversation could rise and fall naturally.

The Duke spoke of his time spent around Europe and Caterina, at first reserved, found herself painting for him a picture of her childhood, describing Tuscan summers spent under wide blue skies and the intoxicating scent of olive groves and cypress trees.

“I can see why you miss it,” he remarked as they slowed to a gentle trot, his gaze thoughtful as if he could picture the scenes she described.

“There’s nothing quite like it,” Caterina replied softly, glancing toward the distant hills.

As they rode back toward the estate, a quiet understanding settled between them, one that bridged the gap of polite conversation and leaned, ever so slightly, toward friendship.

By the time they returned to the stables, Caterina felt a sense of calm she hadn’t realized she’d been craving.

The Duke helped her dismount, his hand lingering for just a moment longer than necessary, his eyes conveying a warmth that seemed to offer her quiet assurance amid the whirlwind of her family’s plans.

─────────

A few days later…

The Medici twins were nearly beside themselves with anticipation that day.

Though they’d expected Lorenzo and his family the following day, every small sound that drifted through the house seemed to hold the promise of an early arrival.

Caterina and Teresa hovered near the windows, hands pressed to the glass as they peered into the hazy afternoon.

Just as they were about to abandon their watch in disappointment, a familiar rumble broke the quiet of Langstone House.

Hoofbeats echoed along the drive, followed by the clatter of carriage wheels rolling toward the front.

Teresa’s sharp intake of breath made Caterina turn, and their eyes met in a flash of excitement.

“It’s them!” Teresa gasped, grabbing her sister’s arm.

In an instant, both girls lifted their skirts and ran, skirts billowing as they dashed down the grand staircase, their voices ringing out with unrestrained joy.

“Lorenzo’s here!” Teresa shouted, her voice filled with laughter of excitement.

Maids and butlers watched with smiles, stepping aside as the sisters flew through the hall, past the open doors, and down the steps to the driveway.

Outside, the air was crisp, carrying the scent of fallen leaves, and their cheeks flushed as they reached the carriage just as it rolled to a stop.

The carriage door opened, and Lorenzo stepped down, looking as regal as he always had, with his tall, imposing figure and finely tailored coat.

But the minute he caught sight of his sisters, his face broke into a grin, warm and unrestrained, that lit up his eyes.

“My wild little sisters!” he called, just as they launched themselves at him, wrapping their arms around his neck in a tangle of laughter.

He chuckled, steadying himself under their enthusiastic embrace, and pressed a kiss to each of their heads.

“Oh, Lori,” Caterina murmured, clinging tightly to him. “It’s been too long.”

“Far too long,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion as he hugged them both close. “I have missed you both more than words can say.”

“We didn’t think you’d arrive until tomorrow!” Teresa said, pulling back to look at him.

Her eyes sparkled, her face bright with happiness. “You’ve truly surprised us!”

“I thought it might be worth the extra journey to see the look on your faces,” Lorenzo said with a laugh, ruffling Teresa’s hair. “It seems I was right.”

As the twins reluctantly released him, the carriage door opened once more, and Beatrice, Lorenzo’s wife, stepped out with her usual grace and elegance.

Her red hair was pinned back, and her kind green eyes sparkled as she took in the sight of the twins, her smile warm and inviting.

On one hand, she held their young daughter, Vittoria, who clutched her mother’s skirts, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“Beatrice!” Caterina exclaimed, moving forward to embrace her sister-in-law with a soft laugh. “It is so good to see you again. Welcome to London!”

Beatrice returned the embrace, her voice soft with affection. “Thank you, Cat. We have looked forward to this journey. Lorenzo has been impatient to see you both.”

Vittoria, a little bundle of curiosity and shyness, clung to her mother’s side, peering up at her aunts with an inquisitive expression.

Teresa knelt down to the little girl’s level, her face breaking into a tender smile.

“Hello, Vittoria,” she said gently. “Do you remember who I am?”

The little girl nodded, her face lighting up with recognition. “You’re Aunt Teresa,” she said, her voice barely a whisper, and then pointed to Caterina with a tiny finger. “And she’s Aunt Caterina.”

Caterina felt a rush of joy and knelt down as well, holding her arms open.

Vittoria hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward, letting Caterina gather her up in a warm hug.

“You’ve grown so much, little one,” Caterina murmured, brushing a gentle hand over Vittoria’s hair. “You’re even more beautiful than the last time I saw you.”

Meanwhile, Lorenzo lifted their youngest, Luca, out of the carriage.

The three-year-old blinked sleepily at the lively scene, clearly still waking from the long journey.

Teresa reached for him, and he allowed himself to be held, leaning against her shoulder with a shy but content expression.

As the joyous reunion continued, Lady Medici made her way toward her son, her heart swelling with pride and love.

With a soft expression of joy, she reached him, and before Lorenzo could even speak, she pulled him into a tight embrace.

His strong arms wrapped around her in return.

“Oh, Lorenzo,” Lady Medici murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “How I’ve missed you, my dear son.”

Lorenzo pulled back slightly, his eyes softening as he smiled at his mother. “I have missed you too, Mother,” he replied, his voice deep with affection. “There hasn’t been a day that I didn’t wish for your presence.”

She cupped his face in her hands, looking him over as if she had not seen him in years, though only a few months had passed.

“You’ve grown more handsome with each passing day,” she said, her voice filled with pride. “But your heart remains as kind as ever.”

Lorenzo chuckled, his smile wide and full of affection for his mother. “And you remain as beautiful as ever, Mother. I was looking forward to being here, to being with you all.”

Caterina, still wrapped in the joy of the moment, looked over at the scene with a tender smile.

It was as if, in that moment, the house had become a haven again, a place filled with love and laughter after the storm of uncertainty that had clouded her thoughts for so long.

Lord Langstone stepped forward, his broad shoulders and strong presence welcoming Lorenzo.

“Your Grace, it is such a pleasure to finally have you here in our home,” Lord Langstone said, clapping Lorenzo on the shoulder with a smile. “We are truly honored.”

Lorenzo returned the gesture with a grin. “I’ve heard nothing but the highest praise for you, Lord Langstone. It’s a privilege to be here.” He turned to his wife, who stood gracefully by his side.

Beatrice smiled warmly at the group, her gaze flicking to Caterina and Teresa. “It feels as though we’ve stepped into a second family,” she said.

Caterina, her heart still light from the sight of her brother, moved to Beatrice’s side. “We’re thrilled to have you here, Beatrice,” she said with a gentle smile. “And Vittoria and Luca, they’ve grown so much since we left home”

Beatrice nodded, her expression softening as she looked at her children. “Vittoria seems to grow by the day, and Luca…” She glanced down at her son, who was still in the arms of Teresa, his small hand reaching for her ear. “He’s still as mischievous as ever, I’m afraid.”

Teresa giggled as she caught Luca’s little hand before it could pull too hard on her ear. “Mischievous, indeed,” she said, laughing softly as she adjusted him in her arms. “But he’s so charming, how could we mind?”

Meanwhile, Lady Langstone, with an excited gleam in her eyes, addressed the group again.

“Tomorrow evening!” she said brightly. “We shall celebrate this wonderful reunion with a ball in your honor, Lorenzo. A grand affair! We’ll invite the best of society!”

Lorenzo glanced around, taking in the enthusiastic faces of his family, and nodded with a pleased smile. “A proper British ball, Lady Langstone? How could I possibly refuse such a warm invitation?”

Lady Langstone clapped her hands together. “It’s settled, then! The preparations will begin immediately, and tomorrow night we shall dance and feast as only a family can.”

Caterina, still with a smile on her face, stood next to her mother, feeling a deep sense of peace and happiness settle over her.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so complete.

Her brother was home, the house was full of life and love, and there was the promise of laughter and music to come.

It was as if everything was falling back into place, one joyful moment at a time.

As the family continued to settle inside, with the sound of little feet and laughter echoing through the halls, Caterina caught a quiet moment with her brother.

She slipped her arm around his, smiling up at him with an expression of contentment.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she said softly, her voice low so only he could hear. “It feels like a dream that you’re finally here.”

“I’ve missed you too, Kitty,” he replied, his voice equally soft. “And now, we’ll make up for all the lost time. I promise you that.”

Together, they walked into the warm, bustling house, with their family close behind.

The sight of their happy faces was a sight Caterina would treasure forever.

#bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton fic #benedict bridgerton angst #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fandom #benedict bridgerton x oc #benedict bridgerton imagine

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thecrayonindisguise · 8 months ago

Text

Bonds and Barriers masterpost

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Original Female Character

Rating: Teen and up

Status: ONGOING

Ao3 story link

Summary:

When the Medici family, Duchess Marie and her twin daughters, Caterina and Teresa, leave their serene Italian estate for the glittering chaos of London, they are thrust into the heart of British high society.

Named the Diamonds of the Season by the Queen at their very first ball, the sisters are immediately thrust into the whirlwind of high society’s glittering world. But beneath the surface of this dazzling debut lies Caterina’s true intent: she's searching for a wealthy suitor, not romance. Her heart bears the weight of past heartbreak and scandal. Haunted by the memories, she struggles with guilt and distrust in matters of the heart.

Enter Benedict Bridgerton, a man who defies Caterina’s expectations. Charming and passionate, Benedict finds himself irresistibly drawn to Caterina. Their first encounter is a serendipitous clash of worlds, setting the stage for a connection neither anticipated. But as their lives entwine, their shared passion becomes both a bridge and a barrier.

Amidst the glittering balls and whispered gossip of the ton, can Caterina and Benedict overcome their personal barriers and embrace the bonds they’ve forged? Or will their pasts keep them apart?

CHAPTERS

Chapter 1: The Arrival

Chapter 2: An Unexpected Connection

Chapter 3: Shared Passions

Chapter 4: Unspoken Bonds

Chapter 5: Breaking the Boundaries

Chapter 6: Tangled in Desire

Chapter 7: A Heart’s Retreat

Chapter 8: The Ball and the Burden

Chapter 9:

#benedict bridgerton x oc #bridgerton fandom #bridgerton fic #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfic #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton angst #benedict bridgerton fluff #fanfiction #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton netflix #bridgerton fanfiction

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thecrayonindisguise · 8 months ago

Text

Chapter 8 The Ball and the Burden|| Bonds and Barrier

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Original Female Character

Masterpost || << prev || next >>

Word Count: 9.3k

Warnings: no particular warnings, but here we have a little mean Benedict and a heartbroken Caterina instead oh how I love miscommunications and misunderstandings

Author's Note: So, a lot is about to happen! From Caterina's usual crises to Benedict's surrender towards her, even if things change, Caterina, let's say, decides a little too late and finds herself in the wrong place at the wrong time. Poor her... + A new male character! Well, he will be an interesting character. Who am I not to make the situation worse? ++ A new situation for our sweet Teresa! Of course, I wanted to add the infamous masquerade ball from Benedict's book, even though the things that happen are different :)

Dearest Readers,

The ton is abuzz with whispers of what promises to be the most scandalous, or perhaps simply the most curious, event of the season: the upcoming masquerade ball.

Now, while a masquerade is nothing new to our set, this particular event holds an air of intrigue that even your most devoted reporter cannot ignore.

What secrets might be revealed behind those glittering masks? What whispered confessions could slip past the lips of those who wish to remain hidden?

But, my dears, what truly piques this author’s interest is whether or not the famed twins, yes, those striking sisters who have captivated the entire social circle, will be in attendance.

Teresa and Caterina Medici, the undisputed diamonds of the season, have charmed and enchanted all with their beauty, grace, and wit.

Or at least, one of them has.

For while Teresa has flourished in the spotlight with poise and a smile as warm as summer, her sister Caterina, it seems, has found herself in rather more… turbulent waters.

After her absence during half of the last ball at Aubrey Hall, tongues have been wagging at an alarming rate.

What, precisely, transpired between Miss Medici and Mr. Benedict Bridgerton that left the poor gentleman looking so heartbroken and our lovely diamond retreating into the shadows?

Could it be that Caterina has decided her heart shall remain under lock and key?

Or, perhaps, there is something deeper that troubles our elusive beauty?

After all, we all know that the path to love is rarely smooth, and whispers suggest that the refusal of a certain proposal may not have been as final as some believed.

Oh yes, dear readers, this writer can confirm there was indeed a proposal, one that was met with not just hesitation but an outright refusal.

Will Caterina make an appearance, her head held high despite the swirling rumors? Will she, perhaps, seek to make amends with Mr. Bridgerton, or has she resigned herself to a life of icy detachment?

This author cannot say for certain, but rest assured, I will be watching closely.

As always, my dear readers, do keep your ears and eyes wide open.

The night may reveal more than any of us expect, and Lady Whistledown is always poised to report every delectable detail.

Until then, I remain faithfully yours,

Lady Whistledown

─────────

The morning light barely filtered through the heavy curtains of Caterina’s room when the familiar rustle of paper cut through the quiet.

Her maid, Vanessa, stood silently in the corner as Teresa read aloud the latest piece from that gossipmongering writer.

Caterina, seated at her vanity, her fingers gripping the edge of the wooden surface, felt a searing heat rise up her neck as the words echoed in her mind.

“Oh yes, dear readers, there was indeed a proposal…”

The mockery of it!

The scandal!

How dare Lady Whistledown, that cursed woman, reveal such intimate details to the entire ton?

Caterina’s face flushed with a mixture of rage and embarrassment, her pulse pounding in her ears.

“How does she know?!” she hissed, her voice sharp and trembling with fury. “Who told her? How did this spread?”

Vanessa, hovering nearby, exchanged a nervous glance with Teresa, unsure of how to calm her mistress.

“Kitty,” Teresa said, trying to sound soothing.

She stood from Caterina’s bed, moving toward her sister. “You’re making too much of it. This isn’t-”

“Making too much of it?” Caterina cut her off, spinning around to face Teresa, her eyes flashing with anger.

“Now everyone knows! That Benedict Bridgerton asked me to marry him and that I refused him, publicly!”

She stood up, pacing the room with increasing agitation, her nightgown sweeping across the floor.

“Do you know how this will look? I’ll be pitied by half the ton and whispered about by the other half, It will ruin everything!”

Teresa frowned, but kept her tone calm, as though trying to rein in her sister’s spiraling emotions. “I think you’re exaggerating, Kitty. It’s not as bad as you think.”

She gave Vanessa a quick look, silently asking for backup.

Vanessa offered a meek nod in agreement, though she wisely stayed quiet.

“That’s a good thing, after all, Kitty,” Teresa added, trying a different approach, “It means that finally, someone stepped forward and asked for your hand. But you refused, and that… well, that makes you more desirable, doesn’t it? Think about it.”

Her tone brightened as if she believed this might sway her sister. “Now, people will see you as strong, independent -”

Caterina stopped pacing and glared at her.

“Desirable? More desirable? For what? A spectacle?” She threw her arms up in frustration.

“As if I’m some… some prize to be won! Now I’m painted as a cold, calculating woman who breaks hearts for her own amusement!”

Teresa sighed, stepping closer and gently placing a hand on Caterina’s shoulder.

“That’s not what this means,” she said softly. “It shows you have standards, Kitty. You’re not just marrying the first man who comes along. And Mr. Bridgerton… well, he’ll recover.”

Caterina brushed Teresa’s hand away, though the anger in her eyes softened just slightly.

“You don’t understand,” she whispered, more to herself than to her sister.

She could still feel the weight of Benedict’s proposal, the sincerity in his voice, the hurt in his eyes when she’d turned him away.

Was she regretting it?

The doubt lingered at the edges of her mind, no matter how fiercely she tried to ignore it.

But now… now it was too late.

Thanks to Whistledown, her refusal was etched into the very fabric of society, a public rejection that no one would forget.

Taking a deep breath, she turned away from Teresa and faced the window, her eyes distant, the cool glass reflecting the storm inside her.

“I hate her,” she muttered, her voice low but filled with venom, “That damn woman. Lady Whistledown. Whoever she is…”

Vanessa stepped forward cautiously, holding a folded gown in her hands.

“Miss Caterina… perhaps the best way to respond is to attend the masquerade ball. Show everyone that you’re unfazed by the gossip.”

Caterina’s laugh was sharp, bitter. “Unfazed? Is that what they’ll believe?”

Teresa, undeterred, smiled warmly. “Yes, Kitty. And perhaps… perhaps it’s not too late to speak with Mr. Bridgerton.”

Caterina’s eyes narrowed, her jaw tightening at the mention of his name. “I don’t know,” she whispered.

─────────

It was a rather quiet morning in the Bridgerton household, at least until the rustling of paper signaled the arrival of the latest Lady Whistledown column.

Seated around the long dining table, the Bridgertons shared their usual breakfast, though the atmosphere quickly shifted as Eloise, ever the first to dive into the gossip, raised an eyebrow.

“Well, well, Benedict,” Eloise muttered, her eyes scanning the text. “It appears you’ve earned yourself quite a mention this morning.”

She slid the paper across the table toward Benedict, a teasing smirk dancing on her lips.

Benedict frowned, already suspecting what was coming.

He reached for the paper, his hand tightening as he read the familiar tone of Lady Whistledown’s words.

His name, the proposal, Caterina Medici’s refusal, it was all laid bare for the ton to devour.

“Wonderful,” Benedict muttered sarcastically, dropping the paper onto the table. “As if I needed the entire world to know that I made a complete fool of myself.”

Violet Bridgerton, seated at the head of the table, looked at her second son with a mixture of sympathy and concern.

“Benedict, darling, it’s not as terrible as you imagine. People will move on, and find new gossip soon enough. This is just the cycle of things.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Benedict replied, his voice tinged with frustration. “Everyone knows now. It’s not just some rumor in passing, it’s out there for everyone to read.”

Colin, ever the cheeky one, chimed in with a grin. “If it helps, you’re in good company. Whistledown’s taken shots at all of us at one time or another. It’s almost a rite of passage.”

Benedict shot him a glare. “I’d rather skip the ‘rite of passage,’ thank you.”

Eloise finally looked up, her usual sharp wit ready. “You’re acting as if the world has ended, Benedict. It’s not the end of your life. Besides, it’s hardly the worst thing Whistledown has written. And frankly, I think she’s getting rather predictable.”

Edward leaned forward, “Benedict, you know the ton thrives on drama. This will be old news by the end of the week. People will talk, yes, but it’s more likely they’ll forget once someone else does something more scandalous.”

“I don’t care what people think,” Benedict retorted, but his face betrayed a flicker of doubt. “It’s just -”

He hesitated, the frustration and disappointment finally surfacing. “She said no. And now everyone knows it.”

Anthony, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke, his tone surprisingly thoughtful. “You put your heart out there, Ben. That takes courage. More than most men ever muster. Whether she said yes or no, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that you were honest about your feelings.”

Benedict sighed heavily, his fingers drumming against the table. “I thought I knew her, Anthony. I thought… maybe she felt the same.”

Violet reached over, resting a gentle hand on her son’s. “Feelings are complicated, Benedict. You’ve done nothing wrong. If she couldn’t see the value in what you offered her, then that’s on her, not you.”

“I know you’re all trying to help, but it doesn’t make me feel any better.” Benedict ran a hand through his hair, clearly uncomfortable with being the center of the family’s attention.

Eloise, ever direct, shrugged. “You might not want to hear this, but maybe it’s for the best. You want someone who values you, not someone who makes you feel like this.” Her words cut through the tension, though they were delivered with her usual sharpness.

Benedict stared at his sister for a moment, a half-smile tugging at his lips despite his mood. “You know, for someone who claims to know nothing about love or marriage, you give rather good advice.”

Eloise raised an eyebrow. “Don’t get used to it.”

Edward leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Perhaps now that this is out in the open, it might actually give you some clarity. You’ll know where you stand.”

“And if nothing else,” Colin added, ever the joker, “you’ve given the rest of us something interesting to talk about at our next gathering.”

Benedict couldn’t help but chuckle despite himself, shaking his head at his brother’s relentless teasing.

His mood hadn’t entirely lifted, but the weight of the morning’s revelations seemed a little lighter with his family rallying around him.

“I suppose if there’s one thing I can count on,” Benedict said, glancing around the table, “it’s that you lot will never let me wallow in peace.”

“Of course not,” Anthony said with a wry smile. “That’s what family’s for.”

─────────

The sunlight trickled through Hyde Park’s towering trees as Caterina strolled beside her sister Teresa and their mother.

The Langstone ladies, walking ahead of them, chatted cheerfully, unaware of Caterina’s inner turmoil.

It was supposed to be a pleasant afternoon, just a simple promenade through the park.

But for Caterina, the weight of Lady Whistledown’s words seemed to hover over her like a storm cloud.

With every glance cast in her direction, she could almost hear the murmurs and feel the judgmental eyes from every corner of the ton.

“Kitty, are you quite alright?” Teresa asked softly, a gentle hand reaching for hers.

“Yes, I am just…” she replied, her gaze drifting over the verdant landscape before her.

In truth, her thoughts were tangled in the question that had plagued her since Benedict’s proposal.

Should she go to the masquerade ball that evening and seek him out?

And if she did, what would she say?

Part of her wished to push aside her pride and address the words she had spoken in haste, words that she feared may have been tinged with too much cruelty.

He didn’t deserve such harshness, she thought. Benedict has only shown me kindness.

She recalled his proposal, the earnest look in his eyes, and the surprising vulnerability in his voice.

The way he had looked at her had touched a part of her heart she had thought long dormant.

Could I ever feel something deeper for him? she wondered, her heart pounding as she considered the answer.

But her resolve faltered as the memory of their last conversation replayed in her mind.

She had rejected him swiftly, unkindly, wielding her words like a shield.

And though she had spent hours justifying her actions to herself, the doubt lingered.

And then, again, her sister's gentle words from their conversation last night echoed in her mind: “You deserve to be happy, Kitty.”

The thought settled over her like a fragile warmth.

But even as she considered the possibility, her gaze drifted to a gathering of onlookers nearby, their glances full of both admiration and curiosity.

Lady Whistledown’s column had done its work thoroughly; she could see that the ton was far more invested in her affairs than she had anticipated.

But she refused to be rattled by their scrutiny.

Instead, she forced herself to focus on the conversation she would have with Benedict if she decided to attend the ball.

I’ll simply apologize and explain that my words were hasty, she thought, or maybe I’ll try to change his mind and…

Lost in these thoughts, Caterina barely noticed the approaching sound of hooves on the gravel path until it was too late.

A handsome chestnut stallion galloped toward them, its rider struggling to control the powerful beast.

Suddenly, the horse reared, startled by the flash of a nearby parasol or the distant noise of a carriage.

The man was thrown from the saddle in a swift, ungraceful arc, landing unceremoniously onto the ground a short distance from the Medici sisters.

Gasps echoed around them as bystanders watched, half shocked and half fascinated, but Caterina’s instincts pulled her forward.

She didn’t hesitate.

She reached the fallen stranger just as he dusted himself off, wincing slightly as he examined his bruised arm.

His dark hair was tousled, his face slightly flushed from the unexpected fall, but as his gaze lifted to meet hers, there was a spark of unmistakable wit and confidence in his eyes.

“Are you injured, sir?” she asked, her voice low, almost formal as she extended a gloved hand to assist him.

He accepted her help, rising to his feet with a charmingly embarrassed smile.

“Only my pride, I assure you,” he replied, the barest hint of amusement tugging at his lips.

He cast a glance over the crowd, which seemed to only heighten his sense of self-assuredness. “And I am indebted to your kindness, Miss…?”

“Medici. Caterina Medici,” she said, meeting his gaze with a calm indifference.

She wasn’t particularly moved by his good looks, nor by the admiration that was clearly present in his expression.

Her heart and mind were still preoccupied with the question of what she would say to Benedict if she did indeed attend the ball that night.

The stranger’s expression shifted subtly as recognition flashed in his eyes.

“Ah, the famed Miss Medici. It seems fate is indeed kind to introduce us in such a memorable fashion.” He inclined his head politely.

“Joseph Mumford, Duke of Richmond. Though I must admit, I hardly expected our first meeting to be on such uncertain footing.”

Caterina raised an eyebrow at his words but kept her tone neutral. “It’s a pleasure, Your Grace,” she replied, offering the faintest hint of a smile.

She noted the genuine interest in his eyes, an interest that had already become far too familiar from the men of the ton.

“Your reputation as a diamond precedes you, Miss Medici,” he continued, his eyes sparkling with a touch of mischief. “Yet I daresay it doesn’t do justice to meeting you in person.”

The remark was charming, even practiced, yet it did little to stir Caterina’s heart.

She was far too consumed by her own thoughts to feel flattered, and a flicker of impatience stirred within her.

She had already spent too much of her day being the object of attention for the ton; now she had caught the interest of a duke, a man whose title alone was enough to capture the interest of every lady in London.

She inclined her head, offering him a polite, though somewhat distant, smile.

“Your Grace, it was an honor to make your acquaintance. I hope your horse forgives you for the unfortunate event,” she replied.

The Duke, slightly surprised by her brevity, managed a nod, though a flicker of curiosity lingered in his eyes.

“Then I shall hope for another chance encounter under more graceful circumstances,” he said, his gaze lingering on her as she turned back to join her family.

She continued walking with Teresa and Lady Medici, feeling the subtle tension of the onlookers behind her.

Yet, despite her interaction with a man as renowned as the Duke of Richmond, her thoughts returned, as they had been all morning, to Benedict.

Her heart raced as she pondered her next move.

If she went to the masquerade ball that night, she would have to face him.

She would have to confront the possibilities she had spent so much time avoiding, the possibility of love.

As they walked on, her mind drifted once more, perhaps, tonight would be the beginning of her decision to reach for her own happiness, whatever that might be.

─────────

The Bridgerton household was bustling with anticipation on the evening of the masquerade ball.

Anthony and Colin were both adjusting their cravats in front of a grand mirror in the foyer, while their cousin Lord Ducker lounged nearby, casually inspecting the timepiece on his wrist.

The ball was shaping up to be the most talked-about event of the season, and attendance was practically mandatory.

Benedict, however, lingered on the periphery, his mind clearly elsewhere as he stood by a tall window overlooking the estate grounds.

He was trying to shake the weight of the recent days, his mood still dampened by the memory of his proposal and Caterina’s refusal.

Her words had stung, her dismissal biting in a way he hadn’t expected.

“Are you sure you’re not coming, brother?” Colin called over his shoulder, eyeing his brother with a hint of worry. “It’s the masquerade, after all. There’ll be plenty of lovely ladies and all the champagne you could ever want.”

Anthony crossed his arms, his brow raised as he added, “And besides, it would do you some good to get out of this house. You’ve been moping since… well since things didn’t exactly go as you’d hoped.”

Benedict’s frown deepened as he let out a long, drawn-out sigh.

“I’ll spare you the speech, Anthony, but the idea of attending doesn’t hold much appeal at the moment.”

“Come on, Benedict,” Edward chimed in with a smile. “It’s just a ball. You don’t have to chase anyone around the dance floor. Think of it as an evening for free drinks and good company.”

Benedict forced a smile, trying to appease his brothers and cousin, though he had all but made up his mind.

The thought of seeing Caterina was both intriguing and infuriating.

His pride still smarted from the rejection, and the idea of running into her tonight brought a strange mix of anticipation and dread.

Just then, Lady Bridgerton entered the foyer, her steps graceful and her expression warm as she took in her sons, clearly delighted to see them preparing for the ball.

She paused in front of Benedict, her eyes narrowing with motherly intuition.

“You are going tonight, aren’t you, my dear?” she asked, her voice gentle but with a hint of insistence, “I hear there will be someone there you used to fancy quite a bit.”

Benedict looked at her with confusion, one eyebrow raised. “I think you’re mistaken, Mother. There isn’t anyone I’m particularly interested in seeing tonight.”

“Oh, really?” Lady Bridgerton replied, her lips twitching with amusement, “I happen to know that a certain Miss Emma Wainwright will be in attendance. You do remember Miss Wainwright, don’t you? Lovely blonde girl. You were quite smitten with her when you were… what was it, five?”

Colin stifled a laugh, nudging Anthony, who rolled his eyes.

Benedict couldn’t help but smirk, though he shook his head. “That was years ago, Mother. I hardly think that counts.”

Lady Bridgerton raised an elegant brow. “Nonsense. She’s blossomed into a very charming young lady. It wouldn’t hurt you to reacquaint yourself with her. Who knows? You may find you have more in common than you did as children.”

Anthony took the opportunity to chime in, “Mother is right, Benedict. At least come with us and try to have a good time. Besides, if all else fails, there’s always the champagne.”

Benedict’s lips quirked into a reluctant smile.

His family’s insistence was wearing him down, and part of him recognized that he needed a distraction.

“Fine,” he said finally, shaking his head, “I’ll go, but only because you all won’t stop pestering me about it. And yes, if all else fails, there’s always the champagne.”

With that, his brothers let out a cheer of victory, and Lady Bridgerton beamed at her son, clearly pleased with his decision.

Benedict straightened his cravat, allowing himself to feel a twinge of excitement beneath his lingering apprehension.

And as he headed for the door with his family, a part of him wondered, just for a moment, if this night would hold any surprises after all.

─────────

Meanwhile, inside the Langstone residence, the air was filled with a soft buzz of excitement as the sisters, alongside Teresa, twirled and admired themselves in the polished mirrors of the dressing room.

Delicate masks adorned with feathers and sparkling stones were propped on a vanity table, and silk ribbons were scattered across every surface.

Laughter drifted through the house, carefree and full of eager anticipation for the masquerade ball.

Yet, beyond the warmth of the lively room, a figure stood isolated on the balcony, her outline barely visible in the dim light.

Caterina, hidden from the merriment, leaned against the iron railing, lost in her own world.

The night air was cool, wrapping around her in a comforting chill as she smoked slowly, her gaze fixed somewhere beyond the horizon.

Inside, Teresa noticed the empty space beside her and turned her head toward the door leading to the balcony, sensing exactly where her sister had gone.

A deep sigh escaped her as she adjusted her mask, admiring the gentle flutter of silk against her blue gown.

She could not deny a growing ache within her as she watched Caterina struggle with her emotions in silence.

Teresa knew her sister all too well, the sharpness, the way Caterina held her pride as a shield, yet Teresa could see the heartache lingering just beneath the surface, the sorrow, and the softness her sister fought so hard to conceal.

Excusing herself from the chatter, Teresa made her way to the balcony, and as she opened the door, she took a quiet moment to observe her sister.

Caterina looked so serene standing there, the faint light tracing the curves of her face, but Teresa could see the tension in her brow, the turmoil in the subtle clench of her jaw.

For all her sister’s resilience, she carried too much weight upon her shoulders, too much responsibility, too much guilt, as though the burdens of their entire family rested solely with her.

With a gentle breath, Teresa walked over, her soft steps blending with the rustling leaves and the night’s quiet symphony.

She slipped her arm around her sister’s shoulders, bringing with her the warmth of their shared childhood memories.

“I knew it,” Teresa said, her voice a gentle murmur that blended seamlessly into the night. “Again escaping to the stars.”

Caterina smiled, faint and bittersweet, flicking the ash from her cigarette as she took another slow drag.

“I suppose some habits never fade,” she murmured, her tone betraying the storm within.

Her gaze never left the distant skyline, though she felt the familiar comfort of her sister’s presence beside her.

A pause settled between them, and Teresa leaned her head against Caterina’s shoulder.

She felt the tension there, in the way Caterina held herself, her body rigid and braced, as though she were carrying something too heavy even for her to bear.

“Kitty,” Teresa whispered, her voice infused with a tenderness that only a sister could convey. “What’s really keeping you out here? It isn’t just the stars.”

Caterina’s lips pressed into a thin line, and for a long moment, she said nothing.

But finally, with a voice edged in vulnerability, she spoke. “I don’t belong there tonight, Tess,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at the glow of their home, the laughter and excitement she’d tried so hard to avoid.

“I don’t know why I’m even here anymore. I came to England to find a husband, to fulfill my duty, and yet… When someone offered me his heart, I threw it away.”

Her voice grew softer, heavy with the weight of regret. “It doesn’t make sense. I don’t make sense.”

Teresa felt a pang in her own heart as she listened, her sister’s turmoil resonating deeply within her.

She could sense how much Caterina struggled with this, with her own desires, her fears, her unspoken dreams.

She had always admired her sister’s resilience, her strength, and yet Teresa knew that beneath it all, Caterina was not as untouchable as she appeared.

There was a softness in her sister, a longing for something more, something genuine.

“Is it really so wrong to feel?” Teresa asked softly, her gaze searching her sister’s face. “Is it so wrong to want something for yourself, Kitty?”

Caterina shook her head, her jaw tightening as she looked away, her gaze once again fixed on the vast expanse before her.

“I don’t know what I want,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just know that I can’t be the person everyone expects me to be any more”

Teresa watched her for a moment, feeling a deep sadness for her sister, a woman who had given so much of herself to duty, to appearances, and yet seemed unable to allow herself the very thing she deserved most: happiness.

“Maybe,” Teresa ventured, choosing her words carefully, “it’s not about being who they expect you to be. Maybe it’s about choosing the person you want to become.”

A flicker of something passed through Caterina’s eyes, a softness that quickly hardened as she shook her head.

“And who would that be?” she asked, her tone sharp, almost defensive. “A foolish woman who lets her heart lead her astray?”

Teresa’s lips curved into a gentle smile as she looked at her sister, her heart aching with love and understanding.

“No,” she said, her voice steady and kind.

“A brave woman who follows her heart, even if it scares her. A woman who realizes that she deserves happiness as much as anyone else.”

For a moment, the silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words and unacknowledged truths.

Caterina looked down, the weight of her sister’s words settling over her, resonating with a depth she couldn’t quite put into words.

Teresa could see the flicker of uncertainty, the waver in her sister’s composure.

“Come to the ball with us tonight,” Teresa urged gently, her gaze steady and sincere. “Mr. Bridgerton may be there, and you could have the chance to speak with him… to set things right.”

Caterina tensed, her heart racing as she considered the possibility.

The thought of seeing him, of facing the hurt she had caused, of trying to repair the damage she had done, was both terrifying and oddly comforting.

But the fear, the uncertainty, was stronger.

“No,” she said finally, her voice resolute. “I can’t, Tess. I don’t belong there tonight. Let everyone else dance and smile and laugh… I’ll only be in the way.”

Teresa’s expression softened with understanding, though a trace of sadness lingered in her eyes.

She placed a gentle hand on Caterina’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Then I won’t push you,” she said, her voice warm and compassionate. “But just remember Kitty… there’s still time.”

Caterina gave a small, grateful nod, feeling the warmth of her sister’s words settle over her.

As Teresa returned inside, leaving Caterina alone on the balcony once more, she took a deep breath, letting the silence envelop her once again.

The stars twinkled above, distant and indifferent, as she stood there, torn between the weight of her regrets and the faint hope that perhaps, one day, she might find the courage to reach for something more.

─────────

Caterina remained alone in her room, shrouded by shadows cast by the single candle flickering atop her desk.

The world was alive and vibrant outside, ready for the ball but within her room, a profound silence enveloped her.

It felt heavy, almost suffocating, as if her very thoughts had woven themselves into the stillness, refusing to let her move or even breathe too deeply.

Tonight was the masquerade ball, the event of the season, yet here she sat, uncertain, bound by a war between her heart and her mind.

Her sister and the Langstone sisters’ laughs and chats echoed one last time from the floor below before fading completely when the door closed behind them.

They were readying themselves, eagerly preparing for the event, their joy nearly tangible as they anticipated a night of dancing and whispered promises beneath the glow of candlelight.

Yet, as for her, she couldn’t muster the same enthusiasm, couldn’t shake the leaden weight pressing against her heart.

Slowly, her gaze fell upon the sketchbook that lay on her desk, worn and familiar, its edges soft from countless hours spent filling it with thoughts and images.

It was a refuge, a silent companion she had carried with her through countless afternoons and quiet, solitary evenings.

She even had brought it to Aubrey Hall, filling it with fragments of the estate, a few trees, a stone bench by the lake, and, she exhaled, fingers reaching tentatively towards the cover, and sketches of him, of Benedict.

Her hand hovered just above it, her fingers trembling with the weight of what lay within.

She hadn’t dared to open it, not since that afternoon when everything had shifted when his presence in her life had begun to mean something more.

Finally, she pulled the sketchbook towards her, the leather cover cool against her fingers.

She took a deep breath and opened it, letting her fingers trace over the familiar sketches.

The first few pages brought a bittersweet smile to her face; they were filled with simple scenes, little moments she’d caught during her time at Aubrey Hall, a view of the lake, her sister’s laugh captured in a quick, haphazard line, a study of the vast and ancient trees that loomed over the grounds, steadfast and silent.

Each drawing was a part of her, a memory she’d kept to herself, a collection of impressions that held her emotions and desires, ones she’d been too afraid to voice, even to herself.

As she continued to flip through, her fingers stilled on a particular drawing, one she hadn’t forgotten but hadn’t dared to confront, either.

It was him, Benedict, seated in the garden on a lazy afternoon, his face softened by the warmth of the sun, lost in his sketchbook as well.

She had captured him unaware, the way his lips curved gently, the way his posture was relaxed yet composed.

She remembered that moment vividly.

She’d been seated from her bedroom window, quietly sketching, stealing glances when he wasn’t looking.

She had felt her heart flutter, warmth seeping through her chest as she committed each line, each shadow to memory.

Her gaze lingered on the lines of his face, and she felt a familiar pang, a mixture of yearning and regret.

She closed her eyes, remembering how his eyes would light up whenever he laughed, how his voice softened whenever he spoke to her, and how, for a brief, impossible moment, she had dared to wonder if he could ever see her as more than just a companion, as something precious.

The memory of his proposal flooded her mind, a scene she had tried so hard to keep at bay.

He had looked at her with such intensity, such vulnerability, his voice steady but laced with a quiet desperation she hadn’t expected.

He had spoken of a future with her, a life in which they would be partners.

But she had turned him away.

She’d forced herself to build walls, convinced that love was a luxury for others, for those unburdened by the weight of family, duty, and reputation.

And the words she’d used to refuse him still haunted her, sharp as the edge of a blade.

She’d spoken so coldly, reducing him to his lack of title, dismissing his dreams.

She swallowed, her fingers tightening on the edges of the book as the regret coursed through her.

She had felt his pain as her own as if the very act of refusing him had carved something raw and painful into her own heart.

She had seen it in his eyes, the hurt, the surprise, the sorrow that he’d tried so hard to hide.

But he had accepted her words, had respected her decision even though it wounded him deeply.

That, more than anything, tore at her heart.

Turning the page, she found another sketch, faint and blurred, the ink smudged as though by water.

She recognized it immediately.

It was from that afternoon by the lake, the moment she had lost her balance and plunged into the cold water.

She had saved this ruined page, despite the way the water had blurred the lines and stained the paper, because it was a reminder of a time when she had felt some kind of happiness and of course…the kiss.

Every smile, every glance, every touch between them had been filled with something she hadn’t wanted to name, hadn’t dared to feel.

And now, sitting alone in her room, the thought of it slipping away felt unbearable.

What if she let him go, let him walk away from her life forever?

What if this was her one chance at happiness, the happiness her sister had told her she deserved?

What if she were brave enough to take it, to say yes to a life with him?

Her hand trembled as she closed the sketchbook, placing it gently back on the desk.

Her gaze drifted to her reflection in the mirror, a woman with fear in her eyes but also a newfound strength.

Perhaps, tonight, she didn’t have to be Miss Caterina Medici, bound by duty and expectation.

Perhaps, tonight, she could be someone else entirely, someone unafraid, someone who dared to reach for the life she wanted.

With a sudden resolve, she crossed to her wardrobe, her hands moving over the array of fine gowns and silks until she found the one she had secretly chosen for tonight, back when she had thought she would attend.

It was a black dress, shimmering with an almost ethereal quality, a gown that would cloak her in the mystery of the night.

She slipped into it, feeling the fabric slide against her skin like a promise.

She fastened the small buttons with steady hands, choosing jewelry that glinted softly, understated but elegant.

The mask she picked was simple yet delicate, a dark lace adorned with soft, silvery feathers that gave her an air of mystery.

She tied it in place, watching as her reflection transformed, a woman who looked bold, assured, a woman ready to step into the unknown.

As she took a last glance around the room, her gaze landed on the sketchbook, still lying on her desk.

She felt a pang of longing, a sense of gratitude.

In a way, it had brought her here and guided her back to the memories that had shown her what she truly wanted.

With a final look, she left it there, closing the door softly behind her as she stepped into the hall, her heart racing with anticipation.

Downstairs, the servants’ eyes widened as she passed, their surprise evident.

No one had expected her to go, and yet here she was, elegant and resolved, like a figure out of a story.

She asked for a carriage and when it arrived, she took a steadying breath before stepping forward.

This was it.

Tonight, she would face Benedict.

She would tell him everything, her regrets, her fears, and, if he would still listen to her, her love.

As the carriage rolled through the streets toward the ball, she felt a calm settle over her, a certainty she had never known before.

She had spent so long denying her feelings, building walls around her heart, but tonight, she was tearing them down, ready to let someone else in.

The night outside was dark, but the stars shone brightly overhead, each one a glimmer of hope, urging her forward.

This was her moment, her chance to rewrite her story, and she wouldn’t let it slip away.

When the carriage pulled to a stop, Caterina took a deep breath, a final exhalation of her fears, before stepping out.

─────────

Caterina took a steadying breath as she stood at the edge of the ballroom.

In her resplendent black silk gown, adorned with subtle silver details that glistened beneath the dim, flickering lights of the ballroom.

She stepped into the masquerade, feeling as if every nerve in her body were alight.

Her soft mask obscured her identity well, allowing her temporary freedom within the crowd.

There was a strange comfort in moving through the throngs of elegantly attired figures without the usual attention of curious gazes and whispered voices.

Her heart raced, its beat quickened not only by the anticipation of seeing Benedict but by the myriad emotions that swirled within her.

She could feel the ghosts of their last conversation haunting her every step, his words and her own still lingering painfully in her mind.

Yet, tonight felt different.

There was a determination within her, a conviction that perhaps all was not lost.

She had come with a purpose, one that she clung to with both hands as she let her gaze wander across the sea of masks and laughter, searching for him.

As her eyes scanned the crowd, in her mind, she pictured his face, the way he had looked at her with such unreserved affection before she had cast his love aside.

The memory was bittersweet, yet it gave her courage as she moved deeper into the ballroom.

Music drifted through the air, weaving an ethereal spell over the guests who laughed, whispered, and danced beneath glittering chandeliers.

Every face was a mystery, hidden behind an assortment of elaborate masks, some feathered, some sequined, each one a work of art in its own right.

Still, Caterina’s gaze moved with purpose, sweeping over each masked figure until it landed on one that stood a bit taller, with shoulders broad enough to catch her attention even at a distance.

She paused, watching him from afar, her heart thundering as she recognized the unmistakable figure of Benedict Bridgerton.

Even though she couldn’t see his face in perfect detail, the way he moved, the soft tilt of his head as he listened to those around him, all of it felt more familiar to her than she’d ever allowed herself to admit.

He was laughing, a sound that rose above the din of the crowd, rich and full.

She felt it resonate within her, pulling her towards him with a magnetism she could no longer deny.

The mask she wore seemed almost a comfort now, a shield as her gaze remained locked on Benedict.

She smiled to herself, stepping forward, but as she tried to close the distance between them, she found herself navigating a sea of shifting bodies, laughter and voices all melding into a dizzying cacophony.

This was her moment.

She had come tonight for one reason: to tell him, once and for all, that she had been wrong, that she regretted every harsh word she’d flung his way.

That she wanted him.

Wanted this chance with him, to be more than just a fleeting acquaintance.

To be everything to him that he had already become to her.

But the closer she came, the more the doubt crept in, that quiet voice asking if it was too late, if he would even listen to her.

Still, her steps carried her forward, navigating around guests with hardly a glance as she zeroed in on him.

Just as she slipped past one particularly lively cluster of dancers, she collided with a solid figure. “Oh, I apologize -” she began, steadying herself as she took a step back.

Her voice trailed off as she found herself staring into the intense gaze of the Duke of Richmond, Joseph Mumford, whose recognition sparked immediately in his eyes.

“Miss Medici?” he murmured, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “I would recognize those eyes anywhere, even with the mask.”

Caterina’s heart dropped, torn between politeness and an almost overwhelming frustration that the Duke had managed to intercept her now, of all times.

She forced a polite smile, her mind already calculating how she could politely extract herself from the conversation.

“Your Grace,” she replied, dipping her head in greeting. “I hadn’t expected to see you here this evening.”

He chuckled softly, an elegant sound, and she could sense the warmth of his gaze even through the mask. “Perhaps not, but I must admit, I had hoped to see you. And now, here we are…fate, wouldn’t you say?”

He extended his arm to her, offering her a glass of champagne. “A drink, for the lady?”

She hesitated, casting a swift glance in Benedict’s direction.

He was drifting further away, moving towards the ballroom’s grand staircase, and her anxiety spiked, intensifying with each second that separated them.

Her heart tugged her forward, propelling her towards him. “Thank you, Your Grace, but I must decline,” she said politely, hoping he wouldn’t take offense. “I am… already set on finding someone.”

The Duke raised a brow, undeterred, his interest clearly piqued by her mysterious refusal.

“Then perhaps a dance, at least?” he pressed, his tone persuasive yet charming. “Surely you can spare one moment?”

Caterina felt a pang of impatience, her focus entirely on Benedict, who was now slipping even further into the crowd.

She hadn’t come here to make small talk or entertain flirtations.

She’d come to speak with the man who’d turned her world upside down, and every delay felt like another moment lost.

“Perhaps another time, Your Grace,” she said firmly but kindly, with a smile that was as gentle as it was final. “But for now, I must excuse myself.”

With that, she gave a brief curtsey and turned away, leaving the Duke in her wake.

She could feel his curious gaze following her, but her mind was elsewhere entirely, consumed by thoughts of what she would say to Benedict.

How could she even begin to apologize, to take back what she’d said?

She didn’t know, but she had to try.

She pushed her way through the crowd, her eyes darting left and right as she caught glimpses of Benedict’s tall figure weaving further into the depths of the ballroom.

─────────

Panic surged through her veins, the thought of losing sight of him sending a fresh wave of anxiety through her.

Her thoughts raced, churning with memories and regrets.

She recalled the way his voice had softened when he’d told her about his art, the way he had reached for her hand with such gentleness.

How he had spoken to her like she was more than a passing fancy like he’d seen something deeper.

And she, she had responded with cold, cutting words, with doubts and denials that had hurt him.

At last, she caught sight of him again, his profile illuminated by the glow of a nearby candelabra.

The crowd seemed to part just enough for her to catch a clear view of him, and she felt a rush of determination wash over her.

Her fingers tightened into fists, and she drew in a breath, steeling herself as she prepared to close the final distance.

She moved through the ballroom with an intensity that bordered on desperation.

She was so close to him now, her gaze locked on Benedict as he lingered near one of the large, open windows leading to the terrace.

Her heart thundered in her chest as she prepared to bridge the last few steps between them, every thought focused on the words she needed to say, the apology she was finally ready to give.

But as she drew nearer, her steps faltered.

She saw a figure beside him, a tall, blonde woman, her hair an elegant cascade down her back, dressed in a striking pink gown.

The woman’s laughter floated through the air, and Caterina felt a pang as Benedict’s familiar, easy chuckle joined hers.

Benedict turned, gesturing toward the terrace, and Caterina’s stomach twisted as she watched the woman place her hand on his arm, allowing him to lead her outside.

She bit her lip, instinctively shrinking back as they disappeared onto the terrace, slipping out of the ballroom unnoticed by the rest of the crowd.

Her pulse quickened, her thoughts a blur.

Who was this woman, and why was she with Benedict?

Curiosity, and a twinge of something painfully close to jealousy, urged her forward.

She followed them, her steps light, until she reached the edge of the terrace and found a shadowed alcove to stand in, just close enough to overhear their conversation.

From her hiding place, she watched as they leaned on the terrace’s stone railing, looking out over the moonlit gardens.

Benedict’s expression softened as he spoke to the woman, his voice low but clear.

“...and I suppose that’s the way of it,” he said, his tone almost resigned, “Love is a charming notion, but marriage? It’s a business arrangement, in the end. Practicality first and foremost.”

The woman laughed, her voice carrying a light, mocking tone.

“Oh, Mr. Bridgerton, I never would have expected to hear that from you after all these years. You gained a rather cynical view, don’t you?”

“Perhaps,” Benedict replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips, “But I am not a fool. There are expectations for all of us, after all, and marriage is no exception. My family… well, they’d be happier if I marry”.

Caterina’s hands tightened around the folds of her gown, her heart pounding painfully as his words sank in.

The woman tilted her head, her gaze fixed intently on Benedict, “But what about Miss Medici?” she asked with a sly smile, “I heard that her refusal of your proposal has caused quite a stir. Tell me, Mr. Bridgerton, was it difficult to be refused so publicly?”

Caterina’s chest tightened, her breath catching as she leaned closer, her pulse thundering in her ears.

She waited, hoping, aching, for some sign that her rejection hadn’t hurt him as deeply as she feared.

But Benedict’s laugh was hollow, devoid of warmth.

“Difficult?” he said, his tone harsh and dismissive, “Hardly. Miss Medici is beautiful, yes. But in the end, she’s nothing more than another jewel of the season. A diamond, if you will,” he added, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

The woman raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “You make her sound like mere decoration.”

Benedict shrugged, “No she is not perhaps I misunderstood what Miss Medici truly is. I thought she might be different, but it seems she’s just like every other woman I’ve encountered, more interested in titles and wealth than anything genuine. Her refusal saved me the trouble of marrying someone who clearly puts her own pride above any real feelings.”

Caterina’s heart sank further as he spoke, the bitterness in his voice struck her like a physical blow.

The woman chuckled softly, leaning closer. “So you believe her rejection is a reflection of her character?”

Benedict scoffed, shaking his head. “A marriage to her It would’ve been a frivolous affair, I imagine. All fire and temper, but no substance. In the end, every woman I seem to like ends up being the same, focused on what I can offer them rather than who I am.”

Caterina felt her heart shatter, the force of his words slicing through her.

She pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle a sob, her vision blurring as tears welled in her eyes.

She had come here tonight to apologize, to tell him that she had been wrong, that she had regretted every word.

With the hope of mending what she had broken, of finding redemption and perhaps even happiness in his arms.

But his words turned her fragile hope into ash, his scorn crushing her beneath the weight of her own foolishness.

His words made it clear, she had hurt him too deeply, driven him to bitterness and scorn.

Caterina took a shaky step back, her legs threatening to give way as she clutched her skirts, desperate to hold herself together.

She couldn’t bear to hear another word, another reminder of her own arrogance, her own mistakes.

She spun on her heel, stumbling through the crowd with her vision blurred by tears.

Everything around her felt distant, muffled as if she were moving through a dream, a nightmare she couldn’t escape.

Once she reached the edge of the ballroom, she fled down the grand staircase and out into the cold night, gasping for breath.

The mask felt suffocating, a reminder of the pretense she had worn, not just tonight, but all season, all her life.

She tore it from her face, her vision swimming as she broke into a run, her tears spilling over freely now, unchecked, unstoppable.

The streets were empty as she fled, the sounds of the city muted by the pounding of her own heart.

She ran until her lungs burned, her legs trembling, her body fighting to keep up with the torrent of emotions raging within her.

By the time she reached home, she was soaked in the evening’s chill, her gown clinging to her as she stumbled through the doors and up to her room.

─────────

Once inside, she closed the door behind her and sank to the floor, her body wracked with sobs as the memory of his words haunted her.

The silence of the room was both comforting and stifling, an oppressive weight that finally shattered her composure.

How could I have been so foolish? she thought, the bitterness almost choking her.

Her hand trembled as she reached for her mask, throwing it aside.

It spun across the floor, a hollow, glittering shell, much like how she felt at that moment.

How long had she hoped, secretly yearned, that he had seen something real in her?

How could she have let herself believe in such foolish dreams, that beneath all the dazzling lights and pretense, there had been an understanding between them?

She gripped the bodice of her dress, the elegant fabric feeling suddenly suffocating, as though every stitch, every fold was a mockery.

She clawed at the delicate silk, yanking it roughly until it gave way, tearing from her shoulder in a jagged line.

The dress fell around her, pooling in shreds at her feet, but it did nothing to relieve the ache in her chest.

Her heart ached with the sharpness of a wound freshly torn open, and all the hopes she had nurtured, the fragile dreams she had allowed herself to imagine, lay shattered at her feet.

She had come to England to start anew, to rebuild a life after the pain and upheaval of the past.

But here she was, heartbroken and hollow again, the love she had barely allowed herself to believe in slipping through her fingers.

The soft light of the moon cast shadows across her room, illuminating the sketchbook that lay open on her desk, the very book that had led her here tonight, that had reminded her of her own heart and her own dreams.

She had come so close to finding happiness, to the promise of love.

But it was gone now, lost in the bitterness of his words, the realization that she had destroyed something precious before it could even begin.

Tears slipped down her cheeks, leaving hot trails that stung. “I was just a fool,” she whispered to the empty room, her voice breaking. “Just a naive, foolish girl.”

The hours passed, marked only by the faint ticking of the clock in the hallway outside her room.

She remained on the floor, still and hollowed out, her sobs reduced to silent tears.

Her chest ached with a heaviness she couldn’t release, and she wondered if this feeling would ever fade if she would ever feel like herself again.

She longed to be numb, to forget it all, but each new wave of pain brought his words rushing back, carving deeper wounds.

Then, a knock broke the silence, tentative at first but growing more insistent.

She ignored it, too drained to move, her tear-stained face hidden in the shadows.

But the knock continued, soft but persistent, until she finally managed a choked, “Come in.”

The door creaked open, and Teresa entered, her expression alight with joy, her cheeks flushed with happiness.

She stepped forward, holding her skirts as she nearly ran into the room.

“Kitty,” she gasped, a wide smile brightening her features. “Kitty, you’ll never believe it, Lord - Lord Ducker, he… he proposed to me!”

Caterina managed a weak smile, her heart twisting as she saw her sister’s radiant face.

She could feel Teresa’s happiness like a balm and a wound, bittersweet in its purity.

Teresa, oblivious to her sister’s pain, threw herself down beside Caterina, gripping her hands tightly.

“Oh, it was the most beautiful moment!” Teresa said, her voice full of wonder. “He took me aside, and he spoke with such sincerity, such warmth… Kitty, I think I’ve found the true love. And I couldn’t wait to tell you.”

Teresa’s eyes sparkled with tears, her excitement so palpable it filled the room, momentarily dispelling the gloom that clung to Caterina like a shroud.

Caterina forced herself to return the pressure of Teresa’s hands, her own fingers cold and unsteady.

She wanted to be as happy for her sister as Teresa clearly wanted her to be.

But she couldn’t summon the words, couldn’t force her lips into a smile that wouldn’t shatter.

Teresa’s smile faltered as she finally took in Caterina’s tear-streaked face, the wreckage of her gown, the empty, pained look in her eyes.

“Kitty,” she whispered, her tone shifting to concern. “What happened? Why are you…?”

But Caterina shook her head, a slight, fragile movement, as she tried to find her voice.

“Nothing,” she murmured, her words a faint, broken echo. “I’m… I’m so happy for you, Tess. I truly am.”

But even as she said it, she knew Teresa saw through her.

Teresa reached out, pulling her sister into a tight embrace, offering her silent comfort in the face of an unspoken pain.

Caterina leaned into her sister, her hands clutching the back of Teresa’s gown as she let the tears flow freely again, her heart a mess of love, betrayal, and confusion.

She clung to Teresa, feeling the warmth and steadiness of her sister’s love, the one unbreakable thread she still had left to hold on to.

In that moment, though her heart was shattered, she felt a small, glimmering comfort in her sister’s arms, as if maybe, just maybe, she could find the strength to mend.

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thecrayonindisguise · 8 months ago

Text

(almost) every penelope featherington scenes (227/???)

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thecrayonindisguise · 8 months ago

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Bonds and Barriers masterpost

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Original Female Character

Rating: Teen and up

Status: ONGOING

Ao3 story link

Summary:

Amidst the glittering balls and whispered gossip of the ton, can Caterina and Benedict overcome their personal barriers and embrace the bonds they’ve forged? Or will their pasts keep them apart?

CHAPTERS

Chapter 1: The Arrival

Chapter 2: An Unexpected Connection

Chapter 3: Shared Passions

Chapter 4: Unspoken Bonds

Chapter 5: Breaking the Boundaries

Chapter 6: Tangled in Desire

Chapter 7: A Heart’s Retreat

Chapter 8:

#benedict bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fandom #bridgerton fic #bridgerton fanfic #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton angst #benedict bridgerton imagine #fanfics #slow burn #angst #fluff #regency #benedict bridgerton x oc

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thecrayonindisguise · 8 months ago

Text

Chapter 7 A Heart’s Retreat|| Bonds and Barrier

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Original Female Character

Masterpost || << prev || next >>

Word Count: 10.6k

Warnings: no particular warnings, just a mean Caterina and a heartbroken Benedict

Authors Note: I know… I’m a bad person just for making Benedict suffer like that but things will change I promise

The weight of what they had been doing, what they had almost let happen, hung between them like a heavy fog.

They both knew it was only a matter of time.

As the sound of Teresa’s panicked calls for Caterina pierces through the air, a wave of reality crashes into her.

Her body tenses in Benedict’s arms, and for a fleeting second, their world stops.

All the warmth, the heat that had consumed them, dissipates in an instant, replaced by the harsh reality of where they are and what they’ve done.

Caterina’s breath hitches, panic seeping into her thoughts.

Her heart races as she pulls back from Benedict, her hands slipping from his hair, a shaky breath escaping her lips.

“my sister…we… we need to go,” she finally stammers, her voice trembling, barely a whisper.

Her wide eyes dart toward the door, where her sister’s voice is growing louder with each desperate call.

Teresa is too close now, her words almost echoing inside the room that had shielded them.

Benedict, though reluctant to let her go, realizes the urgency of the moment.

His chest heaves as he tries to steady himself, but he quickly nods in agreement.

“Come with me,” he whispers, grabbing her hand with a sense of quiet determination.

The contact sends a jolt through her, though this time it’s not desire but desperation that drives them forward.

Caterina hesitates for a heartbeat, her body still vibrating with the memory of his touch, the heat of his lips on her skin.

She glances toward the door again, her pulse thudding in her ears, and for a brief, foolish moment, she considers staying, letting Teresa find them, letting the world see them.

But reality crashes down again, and she knows they can’t.

Her fingers tighten around Benedict’s, and together, they move quickly, slipping out of the room through a very small secluded side exit, the noise of the party covering their hasty retreat.

Together, they move silently, quickly slipping out of the small room where they had been hidden.

Benedict keeps her close, his hand never leaving hers, guiding her through the exit with quiet determination.

Every touch, every brush of his fingers against her skin, sends shockwaves through her, reigniting the passion they had been forced to abandon.

But there’s no time for that now.

No time to think, no time to feel.

Just escape.

As they step out into the cool night air, the relief of escaping the intensity inside is palpable, but neither dares to speak.

The sudden change in temperature is a shock to Caterina’s system, the crisp breeze biting at her flushed cheeks and exposed skin.

She breathes deeply, trying to steady herself, but her heart is still pounding, and her legs feel like they might give way beneath her.

The sounds of the ball, though muffled by the walls, could still be heard faintly behind them, laughter, music, the clinking of glasses.

Yet it all felt so distant as if it belonged to another world entirely.

Benedict’s grip on Caterina’s hand was still firm, almost possessive, as though afraid she might slip away if he let go.

They moved quickly, their footsteps silent on the gravel path, the intensity of their retreat binding them together in a shared urgency.

Caterina’s heart raced, but this time it wasn’t from the passion of their stolen moment; it was from the growing sense of dread clawing at her insides.

Teresa was still looking for her, still calling out her name.

The thought of being caught, of her sister, seeing her like this, with him, sent a wave of panic through her.

They reached the shadowed corner of the garden, a secluded spot away from the prying eyes of the ballroom, and only then did Benedict stop.

His chest heaved with exertion, his breath coming in heavy, ragged bursts, and for a moment, neither of them spoke, the weight of the moment pressing down on them both.

Caterina, too, was breathless, but it wasn’t just from the hurried escape.

Her mind was racing, her heart pounding in her chest, her skin still tingling from the memory of his touch.

She felt unsteady as if the ground beneath her had shifted, and she could barely keep her thoughts together.

The heat of their encounter still lingered between them, simmering just beneath the surface, but the reality of what they’d just done, of how close they’d come to being caught, was sinking in fast.

Benedict, still holding her hand, stepped closer, his eyes searching hers in the dim light.

“Caterina” he breathed, his voice low and urgent.

His free hand reached for her, his fingers brushing against her arm, as though he couldn’t bear to be apart from her just yet.

“We need to talk.”

But the sound of her sister’s voice, faint but unmistakable, pierced through the night once again.

Teresa.

Caterina’s heart lurched, and the anxiety that had been bubbling beneath the surface suddenly threatened to overwhelm her.

She couldn’t think, couldn’t focus on anything but the fact that they were seconds away from being discovered.

The garden was dimly lit by the moon, casting soft shadows across the manicured hedges and stone pathways.

“No,” she whispered sharply, shaking her head as she pulled her hand free from Benedict’s grasp.

Her eyes darted towards the house, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

“No, we can’t,”

Benedict reached out again, his hand against her arm, but she stepped back, her movements quick and jittery.

“Please, just listen to me—” he tried again, his voice insistent, but she cut him off.

“This never happened,” she said, her voice trembling as she stared up at him, her eyes wide with panic.

“No one can know. No one. We can’t let them find out.”

Her words hit him like a blow, and for a moment, Benedict froze, his expression tightening.

“Caterina…” he began, his voice tinged with frustration, but she shook her head, her eyes pleading.

“No Benedict,” she repeated, more firmly this time “You need to understand. It never happened.”

The weight of her words hung heavy between them, and for a brief, agonizing moment, Benedict said nothing.

His jaw clenched, his eyes dark with something she couldn’t quite place, anger, perhaps, or hurt.

But he knew there was no arguing with her now, not at this moment.

Her chest felt tight, her breathing shallow, and all she could think about was her sister, how close she was, how she couldn’t be seen like this.

“I have to go Benedict. My sister is looking for me.”

She trailed off, shaking her head.

The panic in her voice rose as her gaze darted around the darkened garden.

Benedict’s brow furrowed in concern, his frustration palpable.

He stepped toward her again, his hands reaching out to catch her, to stop her from slipping away.

“Caterina, please.”

“I can’t!” she hissed, her voice barely above a whisper, her nerves frayed to the breaking point.

She took a step back, her movements quick and jittery, like a bird ready to take flight.

Benedict’s face softened, though the frustration in his eyes was unmistakable.

He wanted to keep her there, to continue what they had started, to talk through whatever it was that had ignited between them in the room.

But he could see the panic in her eyes, the way her chest rose and fell with shallow, rapid breaths.

He knew this wasn’t the time.

He took another step forward, but she was already moving away, slipping from his grasp like sand through his fingers.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her eyes flickering with a mix of regret and panic. “I have to go.”

Without waiting for a response, Caterina turned and hurried away, her footsteps barely making a sound as she moved quickly back toward the house, her heart pounding in her chest.

She could still hear Teresa’s voice, now closer, and she knew she didn’t have much time before her sister found her.

She needed to regain control, to compose herself before anyone realized what had happened.

Benedict stood frozen for a moment, watching her retreating figure as she disappeared into the shadows of the garden, his jaw clenched with frustration.

His hands fell to his sides, his chest still heaving with the remnants of their encounter.

He wanted to chase after her, to pull her back to him, to tell her that he wasn’t willing to let her go.

But the sound of approaching voices, the soft hum of the partygoers inside, held him back.

He couldn’t risk it.

With a heavy sigh, he turned away, slipping into the shadows himself, the weight of their unfinished conversation hanging over him like a dark cloud.

─────────

Caterina moved swiftly through the garden, her heart pounding in her chest, her mind racing.

She had to calm down, she had to pull herself together.

The last thing she needed was for Teresa to see her like this.

As she neared the entrance to the house, she paused, taking a deep breath, forcing herself to steady her trembling hands.

Her breath came in short, sharp bursts, her body still humming with the aftershocks of what had transpired between her and Benedict.

But the urgency of her situation drowned out the lingering sensations.

As she reached the side entrance of the house, she paused for a moment, pressing her back against the cool stone wall, trying to gather herself.

Her heart was still racing, her pulse thrumming in her ears, but she forced herself to take slow, deep breaths.

She had to calm down.

A few moments passed, and the sound of footsteps approached.

She straightened, wiping her hands on her gown, smoothing the fabric in an effort to regain her composure.

Teresa’s voice was near now, her familiar tone filled with concern as she called out.

Caterina took one final deep breath, squared her shoulders, and lit a cigarette, her face carefully composed.

“Tess, I am here” she called, her voice steady, though her heart still pounded in her chest.

When she stepped into the moonlit clearing, she saw Teresa standing by the garden wall, a frown creasing her face.

“Kitty!” Teresa called out, her tone tinged with relief as she spotted her sister.

Caterina approached, her hands tucked behind her back, the cigarette dangling between her fingers.

She took a long, steady drag, letting the smoke curl around her like a protective shield.

It helped calm her nerves.

“Where have you been?” Teresa asked, her eyes scanning Caterina’s face for any sign of distress, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“I needed some air,” Caterina replied, her voice carefully neutral.

She took another drag from her cigarette, blowing out the smoke in a slow exhale. “It was too crowded inside.”

Teresa’s eyes narrowed, suspicion flickering across her features. “Are you all sure? You look… flustered”

Caterina forced a smile, shaking her head.

“I’m fine, really.”

She took one last drag from her cigarette before dropping it to the ground and crushing it beneath her heel. “Let’s go back inside. I don’t want anyone to start asking questions.”

Teresa hesitated for a moment, still frowning, but eventually nodded.

“All right,” she said quietly, linking arms with Caterina. “But we’ll talk later, yes?”

Caterina’s smile faltered slightly, but she nodded in agreement.

“Later,” she murmured, though her mind was already elsewhere, the memory of Benedict’s touch still burning against her skin.

─────────

As Caterina and Teresa made their way back towards the ballroom, the silence between them felt heavy, weighted with unspoken words.

Teresa’s arm was still looped through Caterina’s, but there was a stiffness to her grip, a tension that hadn’t been there before.

Caterina could feel her sister’s eyes on her, watching, waiting for her to say something.

But Caterina kept her gaze fixed ahead her mind racing with how to divert Teresa’s inevitable questions.

While they reached the big ball’s door, Teresa slowed her pace and tugged at Caterina’s arm, forcing her to stop.

“Kitty,” she began, her voice softer now, almost hesitant. “Please tell me the truth, what happened before?”

Caterina turned to face her sister, her expression carefully neutral.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her tone light as if Teresa’s concern were misplaced.

Teresa crossed her arms, her brow furrowing in the way it always did when she was worried.

“Don’t play coy with me, Kitty. I saw Mr. Bridgerton follow you out of the ballroom. I thought it was strange, this is the reason why I came looking for you, and you were nowhere to be found. What were you two?”

For a moment, Caterina’s heart skipped a beat, her mind scrambling to come up with an explanation that wouldn’t raise more suspicion.

Teresa had seen Benedict follow her?

How much had she noticed?

But Caterina couldn’t let the panic show.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to keep her composure.

“Oh, Tess,” Caterina said with a small, dismissive laugh, waving her hand as if it were all a silly misunderstanding.

“Mr. Bridgerton was just being polite, nothing more. He saw me heading outside and thought to check if I was all right. That’s all.”

Teresa’s frown deepened.

“Really? Because it didn’t look like that from where I was standing. It seemed like there was something… more.” Her eyes searched Caterina’s face, her suspicion growing. “You were gone for quite a while.”

Caterina felt the pressure building, the heat of her sister’s scrutiny making it harder to keep up the act.

But she knew she had to divert Teresa’s attention, to steer the conversation away from Benedict before her sister started piecing things together.

She took another step back, putting a little more distance between them, and plastered a casual smile on her face.

“Tess, honestly, you’re reading too much into this,” Caterina said smoothly, her tone light but firm.

“You know how stuffy it gets in those ballrooms. I just needed some air, and Mr. Bridgerton happened to see me. That’s it.” She shrugged as if it were the most innocent thing in the world.

“I was out here smoking to clear my head. It’s not like he stayed with me the whole time.”

Teresa tilted her head, clearly not entirely convinced.

“Then why didn’t you come back inside sooner?” she asked, her voice still laced with suspicion. “You know how worried I get when you disappear like that.”

Caterina’s heart raced, but she kept her expression calm, her smile never faltering.

“I lost track of time,” she said, her voice smooth.

“I didn’t realize I’d been out here for that long. I’m sorry, Mom, I didn’t mean to worry you,” she said mocking her.

For a moment, Teresa studied her sister’s face, as if trying to see past the mask Caterina was wearing, to find the truth hidden beneath it.

But Caterina was skilled at keeping her emotions in check, and she knew how to deflect when necessary.

Teresa’s suspicion remained, but she didn’t press further.

Instead, she sighed, her expression softening slightly.

“All right,” she said quietly, though her tone still held a note of doubt. “Just… be careful, Kitty.”

Caterina’s smile tightened. “I can handle myself,” she replied quickly, trying to end the conversation.

She linked her arm with Teresa’s again, leading them both back towards the house.

“Now, come on. Let’s not give anyone else a reason to start gossiping, shall we?”

But Teresa wasn’t ready to let it go just yet.

“You know,” she said after a brief silence, her voice lower now, more pointed, “people are already starting to talk. You’ve been spending a lot of time with Mr. Bridgerton.”

Caterina felt a flicker of unease but kept her expression neutral.

“Isn’t that what people do at these events? Spend time with one another? It’s all part of the social whirl.”

“Yes, but…” Teresa hesitated, biting her lip as if she wasn’t sure how far to push. “But it’s different with him, isn’t it? I see the way he looks at you, Kitty.”

Caterina’s chest tightened.

“Tess,” she said softly, her voice holding a note of finality “Whatever you think you saw, it doesn’t matter. nothing happened. Do you understand?”

Her sister’s eyes widened slightly, taken aback by the firmness in Caterina’s tone.

For a moment, the two of them stood in silence, the unspoken weight of the situation hanging between them.

Finally, Teresa nodded, though it was clear she was still uneasy.

“Fine,” she murmured, “if that’s what you say.”

Caterina forced a smile. “It is. Now, let’s go inside before anyone notices we’re missing.”

As they entered the ballroom together, Teresa glanced sideways at her sister, her suspicions still lingering, but for now, she let them rest.

Caterina, on the other hand, felt her stomach churn.

The relief of having avoided her sister’s probing questions was fleeting because deep down, she knew this wasn’t over.

─────────

The rest of the ball passed in a blur for Caterina.

The music, the laughter, and the swirling of skirts faded into a distant hum, drowned out by the relentless pounding of her heart.

She and Teresa had returned to the ballroom, blending seamlessly back into the festivities as though nothing had happened.

But Caterina’s mind was elsewhere, haunted by the feel of Benedict’s touch, the warmth of his lips still lingering on her skin.

As the evening finally drew to a close, the Medici sisters returned to their shared room, and their unspoken tension hung heavy in the air.

Caterina could feel it, the weight of her sister’s suspicions pressing down on her, but she had no energy left to confront it.

Once inside their room, Caterina quickly changed into her nightdress, the simple motions of removing her gown and unpinning her hair offering a small distraction from the chaos swirling in her mind.

She moved mechanically, avoiding Teresa’s eyes as she climbed into bed.

Teresa, still watching her sister with a mixture of concern and curiosity, hesitated before speaking.

“Are you sure you’re all right, Kitty?” she asked quietly, her voice soft in the dim light of their room.

Caterina pulled the covers up to her chest, her back to Teresa as she stared blankly at the wall.

“I’m fine,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

But she wasn’t fine. Not at all.

Teresa didn’t push further, though Caterina could sense the doubt still lingering in her sister’s thoughts.

She blew out the candle beside her bed and climbed in, the rustling of the sheets the only sound that filled the silence between them.

As the room descended into darkness, Caterina lay still, her mind refusing to quiet.

The events of the night played over and over in her head, each memory more vivid than the last.

The feel of Benedict’s lips on her neck, the heat of his body pressed against hers, it all came rushing back with an intensity that made her stomach twist in knots.

She had told herself it was a mistake, something that should never have happened.

But the truth was, at that moment, she had wanted it more than anything.

Caterina turned onto her back, staring up at the ceiling.

She could hear Teresa’s steady breathing beside her, and her mind raced, torn between the overwhelming desire she had felt with Benedict and the crushing weight of what that desire could mean.

Time seemed to stretch on endlessly, the minutes crawling by in agonizing silence.

The night felt suffocating, the air in the room thick with unspoken words and unshed tears.

Caterina turned onto her side again, facing away from Teresa, but she couldn’t escape her own thoughts.

Her heart raced, her pulse drumming loudly in her ears as she clutched the edge of the blanket, twisting it between her fingers.

Anxiety surged within her, threatening to drown her in an overwhelming tide of confusion and guilt.

She closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep, but it was useless.

Her mind was too loud, her thoughts too chaotic.

She wished she could tell Teresa everything.

She wished she could confide in her, to share the truth of what had happened with Benedict and how conflicted she felt about it.

But how could she?

How could she explain something she barely understood herself?

So instead, Caterina lay in the dark, trapped in the prison of her own thoughts, while the world outside slept peacefully.

But there would be no peace for her tonight.

Only the unrelenting ache of her heart, and the growing fear that, despite her best efforts, she couldn’t forget Benedict Bridgerton.

─────────

Dearest readers,

last night’s grand ball was nothing short of the dazzling affair we’ve all come to expect from the ton.

The glittering chandeliers, the elegant gowns, and the endless stream of whispered secrets in the air, oh, how I do love a good ball.

But amid the perfectly executed dances and seemingly flawless decorum, there was one incident that caught this author’s ever-watchful eye.

For those who were not fortunate enough to attend, allow me to paint the scene: Aubrey Hall’s ballroom was filled to the brim with London’s finest.

The season’s most sought-after ladies twirled in the arms of dashing gentlemen while matchmaking mamas surveyed potential suitors with hawk-like precision.

Everything was in its proper place, or so it seemed.

Yet as the night wore on, one particular young lady caused quite the stir, though I doubt she intended to. Miss Caterina Medici, one of the diamonds of this season, was seen making an unexpectedly hasty departure from the ballroom.

Eyes wide, face flushed, she slipped out as if in a state of distress.

And let me assure you, dear readers, she was not alone in her escape.

Now, I wouldn’t be Whistledown if I did not report that it was none other than Mr. Benedict Bridgerton who followed closely behind her.

Yes, you read that correctly, the second son of the illustrious Bridgerton family, well-known for his devilish good looks and artistic inclinations, appeared to be in quite the pursuit.

The question on everyone’s lips is, of course, why?

What exactly drove Miss Medici to flee such a grand event, and more importantly, what role did Mr. Bridgerton play in her sudden departure?

Did they, perhaps, share an intimate conversation that sent her spiraling?

Or could it be something more?

After all, we all know how emotions can run high during the season, particularly between two such intriguing individuals.

But here’s where the plot thickens: Miss Medici returned shortly thereafter, composed as ever, while Mr. Bridgerton was nowhere to be found.

How strange, indeed.

What could it be the secret that was exchanged in the shadows of the night? One wonders, dear readers, what secrets lie beneath the elegant exterior of the Medici family. With their recent arrival in London and the whispers that surround them, one cannot help but speculate about what we do not yet know.

But fear not, I, Lady Whistledown, shall make it my mission to uncover the truth behind this curious encounter.

For now, we can only watch and wait, eager to see what the next ball, or perhaps the next scandal, may reveal.

Until next time,

Yours truly,

Lady Whistledown

─────────

The sunlight streaming through the tall windows of the Langstone Villa’s breakfast room was in stark contrast to the heavy mood that hung in the air.

It was meant to be a peaceful morning, but peace was the furthest thing from the minds of the Medici and Langstone sisters as they gathered around the table, their plates of untouched food serving as mere props.

All eyes were fixed on Lady Whistledown’s Paper .

Lady Medici had just finished reading aloud the damning passage, her voice tense and her gaze shifting anxiously between her daughter and the scandalous paper.

“What exactly drove Miss Medici to flee such a grand event, and more importantly, what role did Mr. Bridgerton play in her sudden departure? Did they, perhaps, share an intimate conversation that sent her spiraling? Or could it be something more? After all, we all know how emotions can run high during the season, particularly between two such intriguing individuals. But here’s where the plot thickens: Miss Medici returned shortly thereafter, composed as ever, while Mr. Bridgerton was nowhere to be found.”

Lady Medici lowered the paper, her knuckles white as she clenched the edges. “Care to explain, Caterina?”

Caterina, seated directly across from her mother, felt the weight of the room pressing down on her.

Her heart pounded in her chest, and her mind raced, trying to formulate an explanation that wouldn’t set off even more alarms.

“I… It’s nothing, mama, I have already told you” Caterina stammered, her voice betraying her nerves. “Whistledown always exaggerates. You know how she is.”

Lady Medici’s eyes narrowed. “It didn’t sound like nothing. You disappeared during the ball, and now this? People will start to talk, and not just in whispers.”

Cynthia, ever the gossip enthusiast, leaned forward with wide eyes and a gleam of curiosity in her voice. “Did you really sneak out with Mr.Bridgerton, Caterina? I mean, if Whistledown wrote it, there has to be some truth to it, right?”

Olympia, who had been quietly observing, added, “I did see him leave the ballroom right after you, Caterina. It didn’t seem like a coincidence.”

The room was suffocating.

Caterina could feel her pulse pounding in her temples as the questions mounted.

The events of last night, the stolen moments with Benedict, the kiss, and the way his touch had ignited something deep inside her, were now being dragged into the harsh light of day.

And worse, Whistledown had taken those moments and woven them into a scandal.

Lady Medici let out a deep sigh and set her teacup down with a soft clink.

Her expression was unreadable, but the faint crease between her brows betrayed her worry. “Caterina, cara mia , we cannot afford any more attention. We are already the subjects of gossip, being new to the ton. Do you realize what this could mean for your reputation?”

Caterina met her mother’s gaze, a surge of guilt twisting in her stomach.

She knew.

Oh, she knew.

She had been foolish, reckless even, to indulge in her feelings for Mr. Bridgerton in such a public setting.

But how could she explain the pull she felt toward him?

The way her body had responded to his touch as if it had been craving him all this time?

“Nothing inappropriate happened,” Caterina lied, her voice firmer this time, “We spoke for a moment outside. I needed some air. That’s all.”

Teresa, however, was not convinced.

Her sharp gaze pinned Caterina to the spot. “Just spoke? You were gone for a long time, and when I found you, you looked flustered. Benedict wasn’t with you when I caught up, but now Whistledown is implying that something happened…”

Caterina’s heart stammered in her chest.

Teresa wasn’t just suspicious; she was hurt, and worried for her sister’s future in a world that thrived on reputation.

Caterina needed to tread carefully, or the situation could spiral out of control.

“I swear, nothing untoward happened,” Caterina insisted, “Whistledown is making something out of nothing. You know how she operates, turning whispers into grand stories. we knew something like that would happen, I am one of the diamonds of the season, I am in the eyes of all!”

Lady Medici exhaled sharply, cutting off Caterina with a stern glance. “Enough of this gossip, We must focus on what’s important, your reputation.”

Olympia, sensing the rising tension, tried to offer some comfort. “Perhaps Whistledown is just being dramatic like she usually is. The ton will forget about it soon enough if nothing more comes of it.”

But Lady Langstone, who had been silent until now, interjected with a concerned frown.

“This won’t go away that easily, Olympia. We all know how the ton thrives on scandal, especially when a Bridgerton is involved. Caterina, you must be more careful, for your own good”

The words struck like a blow, and Caterina flinched inwardly.

“Nothing will come of it,” Caterina said, more for her own reassurance than anyone else’s.“We were in public; we didn’t do anything wrong.”

Lady Medici exchanged a glance with Lady Langstone, both women clearly unconvinced but choosing not to press further.

Teresa, however, wasn’t letting go that easily.

Olympia and Cynthia began to chatter about the next ball, their voices light and gossipy, while Lady Medici and Lady Langstone whispered to each other.

Teresa, though silent, kept her eyes on Caterina, still unconvinced.

Caterina stared down at her plate, her appetite long gone.

The weight of the morning pressed heavily on her chest, and despite her outward calm, she felt the anxiety creeping up her spine.

Her future, her reputation, it all seemed to hinge on a single night and a scandalous rumor.

Oh, how she hates these British foolish gossip and all those people who enjoy it.

And worst of all, the memory of Benedict’s lips on hers, his hands on her skin, made her heart race.

B ut now, it was not just desire she felt, it was fear.

Fear that she was falling into something she couldn’t control.

Something that could ruin everything.

─────────

At the same time, the Bridgerton house was quiet, the stillness of the early morning only disturbed by the faint rustling of papers in the drawing room and the occasional footsteps of a maid setting up the last things from Aubrey Hall.

Benedict, however, was anything but still.

His heart was thumping in his chest, his mind racing, even as he made his way to the family’s study.

As he walked down the corridor, the weight of the decision he had made the night before settled deeper into his bones.

The memory of Caterina’s lips on his, the feel of her skin under his fingers, it had solidified something in him.

He loved her.

There was no doubt in his mind.

He had never felt like this before, not with any woman.

But it was also exhilarating.

He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

Inside, Anthony, Colin, and Edward were seated in various states of comfort around the polished mahogany table.

The room, normally a space of serious Bridgerton affairs, was filled with the smell of coffee and the faint hint of cigar smoke, though none of them appeared to be smoking at the moment.

The sunlight filtered through the tall windows, casting an amber glow on the dark wood paneling, but despite the calm atmosphere, Benedict felt the tension thickening the air as soon as he stepped inside.

Colin, lounging lazily in a leather armchair, looked up first, his trademark smirk already in place.

“Ah, here he is, the man of the hour. How are you feeling this fine morning, Benedict? Not too tired from all that… mingling of the other night, I hope?” His tone was teasing, but there was an edge of curiosity there too.

Anthony, the eldest Bridgerton, sat with his back straight, his brow furrowed in concern.

He looked at Benedict in that older-brother way, half-guarded, half-expectant, as if waiting for a problem to solve.

His cousin, Lord Edward Ducker, observed quietly from his seat by the window, arms crossed over his chest, though his eyes followed Benedict’s every movement.

Benedict, ignoring Colin’s jibes, moved to stand in front of them, his hands resting on the back of one of the chairs.

His heart raced, but his voice was steady as he spoke.

“I’ve made a decision,” he began, his eyes flicking from Anthony to Colin and finally to Edward. “I’m going to propose to Miss Caterina Medici.”

Silence fell over the room like a heavy blanket.

Colin’s grin froze in place, turning into something resembling disbelief.

Anthony’s expression darkened slightly, while Edward raised an eyebrow, his lips tightening in a mixture of surprise and skepticism.

Colin was the first to recover, his mouth twitching with amusement as he sat up in his chair.

“Propose? You ?” he asked, his voice tinged with incredulity.

“Benedict Bridgerton, who has sworn off marriage time and time again, is now talking about proposing? To the diamond of the season, no less?”

Benedict’s jaw clenched.

He had expected this reaction, but it still stung. “Yes,” he said firmly. “I love her.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, and the effect was immediate.

Colin’s amusement faded, replaced by genuine surprise, while Anthony and Edward exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable.

Anthony, ever the voice of caution, leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

“Benedict,” he began slowly, his tone careful, “you’ve barely known her. Are you sure you’re thinking this through? Love is one thing, but marriage is a lifelong commitment. And Miss Medici is…well… you know.”

Benedict frowned, his grip tightening on the chair. “I know exactly what it means,” he replied, his voice low but firm. “But she’s not like people think. She’s different.”

Edward, who had remained silent so far, spoke up then, his deep voice calm but direct.

“Benedict, you need to understand what you’re getting into. Are you sure she feels the same way about you? Are you sure she’s not just… entertaining herself?”

Benedict’s chest tightened at the implication, but he forced himself to stay calm.

“I know her,” he said quietly, his voice steady.

“She’s not like that. We’ve spent time together. She’s opened up to me in ways I don’t think she has with anyone else here. She’s afraid, yes, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t feel something for me.”

Colin scoffed, though not unkindly, as he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.

“And what if you’re wrong, brother? What if she’s just toying with you? You’re a second son, Benedict. You don’t have a title, and you certainly don’t have the kind of wealth a woman like her would expect. Why would she settle for you when she could have a duke or an earl wrapped around her finger?”

Benedict’s eyes flashed with anger, but he bit back a sharp retort.

“It’s not about that,” he said tightly.

“Caterina isn’t like other women here. She doesn’t care about titles or money. She wants something real. And I’m going to give that to her.”

Anthony sighed, running a hand through his dark hair, his brow furrowed in thought.

“Benedict, I’m not questioning your feelings for her. But you have to understand. She’s lived a life of privilege and expectations. What happens when her family pressures her to marry someone with more status?”

Edward nodded in agreement, his tone measured.

“They’ll want her to marry someone who can offer her a future in high society, someone who can elevate her position even more. You’re a Bridgerton, yes, but that might not be enough for them. And if she turns you down…”

Benedict’s heart pounded in his chest, but he refused to back down.

“I’m willing to take that risk,” he said quietly but firmly. “Because I know she feels the same I saw it in her eyes the other night. She’s just scared, that’s all.”

Colin shook his head, a mixture of amusement and concern in his expression.

“You’re setting yourself up for heartbreak, brother. I’ve seen the way she is at these events. She’s distant, guarded. She knows how to play the game, Benedict. And what if you’re just another piece on her chessboard?”

Benedict straightened, his voice firm and resolute. “She’s not playing with me. You don’t know her like I do.”

Anthony leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest as he studied his younger brother. “And you’re willing to throw everything on the line for her?”

Benedict’s eyes blazed with determination.

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “I love her, and I’m going to ask her to marry me. Whether she says yes or no, I need her to know that I’m serious about her.”

Edward sighed again, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Just… be prepared, Benedict. This might not go the way you want it to.”

Anthony nodded, though his expression was grim. “We’ll support you, no matter what. But just… don’t be blind to the realities of her world.”

Colin, still skeptical, added, “And if she turns you down, you better believe we’ll be here with a bottle of whiskey to drown your sorrows.”

Benedict’s lips twitched in a small smile, but his resolve remained unshaken.

“I won’t need it,” he said quietly. “Because I’m going to marry her.”

─────────

The stately Langstone villa stood bathed in the twilight, its towering columns and grand façade casting shadows across the manicured lawns.

Inside, the air was rich with the lingering scent of the evening’s supper, but for Benedict Bridgerton, everything beyond the walls of this moment felt distant, irrelevant.

His heart pounded, every beat a resounding reminder of what he was about to do.

Benedict’s footsteps echoed faintly as he was led through the grand corridors of the house, the grandeur of the villa contrasting with the storm of emotions that swirled inside him.

The ornate decorations, the fine oil paintings, and the gilded mirrors lining the walls felt almost suffocating in their perfection.

His throat tightened with anticipation.

How had he let it come to this?

How had a woman, a woman like her, come to mean so much to him?

As the servant gestured toward a smaller, private room, a parlor on the far side of the house, Benedict steeled himself.

This was it.

He’d come with a single purpose tonight: to ask for her hand.

The notion of his proposal had been dismissed by his brothers and cousin, but what did they know?

His heart, filled with a profound certainty, told him that Caterina was the woman he was meant to be with.

The moment they’d shared at Aubrey Hall had only deepened his resolve.

He had barely taken his seat when the door opened with a soft creak, and there she was.

Caterina Medici stood in the doorway, every inch the poised and elegant lady she was bred to be.

Her gown was deep sapphire, cinched tightly at her waist, its fabric shimmering faintly in the dim candlelight.

Her hair was swept up, exposing the graceful line of her neck, but it was her eyes, those deep, impenetrable eyes, that arrested him.

They seemed colder tonight, sharper, as if the weight of their last encounter had left her guarded.

Yet despite her cool demeanor, Benedict could see traces of something simmering beneath the surface.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” she greeted, her voice smooth as silk, though touched with the faintest edge of tension. “I was surprised by your call. To speak with me privately, at this hour.”

He rose from his chair, his heart a riot of emotion as he struggled to find the right words.

“Thank you for agreeing to see me, Miss Medici. I… I have something important to say.”

Her lips curled into the faintest hint of a smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “So I gathered. Speak then.”

Benedict’s breath hitched, his throat tightening.

She was right in front of him, so close, and yet she felt a world away.

He had never known someone who could make him feel so alive and yet so uncertain at the same time.

“Miss Medici” he began, his voice thick with emotion, “I know things have been… complicated between us. But what I feel for you is not something I can ignore any longer... I love you.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

He could see her stiffen, her eyes narrowing just slightly, but she said nothing.

He pressed on, his words tumbling out now, desperate to reach her.

“I love you, and I want to marry you. After what we shared at Aubrey Hall, I knew, no, I f elt , that you cared for me too.”

Her reaction was subtle at first, a slight tightening of her jaw, a flicker in her eyes.

Then, after a long pause, she let out a small, disbelieving laugh, a sound that felt as though it sliced through the very air between them.

“You love me?” she said, her voice dripping with mockery. “You wish to marry me ?”

Benedict’s heart lurched at the coldness in her tone.

“Yes,” he said firmly. “I want you to be my wife, Caterina. I know that I may not have—”

“You don’t have anything,” she interrupted sharply, her eyes glinting like shards of glass.

“Mr. Bridgerton, you’re nothing more than the second son of a viscount. You have no title, no wealth, no status beyond what your family name provides.”

He flinched at the harshness of her words but remained standing firm, his resolve unshaken. “I may not have a title,” he replied softly, “but I have you.”

For the briefest of moments, her expression wavered, just the tiniest crack in her otherwise perfect mask, but she quickly smothered it.

Her arms folded across her chest as she let out a sigh of exaggerated exasperation.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” she began, her voice dangerously calm, “you were nothing more than entertainment. A fleeting distraction. I am here to find a husband who can secure a future, a man with wealth and a title. I thought you knew”

Each word landed like a blow to Benedict’s chest.

His mind raced to reconcile the woman standing before him with the one he had shared that passionate night with.

“You don’t mean that,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “You can’t. Caterina, I know what we shared -”

“What we shared?” she repeated with a biting laugh, turning to face him again.

“Do you honestly believe that our… indiscretion meant anything to me? It never happened. Nothing happened.”

His breath caught in his throat. “How can you say that? How can you stand there and deny what we felt?”

She took another step closer, her eyes flashing with something dangerous. “Because there is nothing to feel. I could never have an interest in marrying someone who cannot offer me the future I deserve.”

His heart shattered with every cruel word she spoke.

He had come here, full of hope, convinced that love could conquer all, convinced that she would choose him.

But now, standing in front of her, he felt like a naive child who had been lured into a game he could never win.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Why are you pushing me away?”

Caterina’s gaze flickered again, but her face remained hard, cold.

Deep inside, she could feel the faintest stirrings of something, Guilt? Regret? She wasn’t sure.

But she shoved it down, buried it deep within herself, where it couldn’t touch her.

Where it couldn’t make her weak.

Because she knew weakness had no place in her life.

“You are nothing more than a means to an end, Mr Bridgerton,” she said, her tone like ice. “ You’re a man with no title, no fortune, and no real prospects. What could you possibly offer me that would compare to what I could have?”

Benedict clenched his fists at his sides, fighting back the wave of pain and anger that surged through him.

His chest felt tight, his throat constricting with the weight of her words.

But despite it all, he couldn’t bring himself to hate her.

He still loved her, even now, standing before her cold rejection.

“You’re wrong,” he said, his voice quiet but steady. “You’re wrong about us, and you’re wrong about yourself.”

Caterina’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, she said nothing.

She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, could feel the weight of his words sinking into her.

But she couldn’t, wouldn’t, let herself feel.

Not after what happened.

With one last, cold look, she turned and walked toward the door.

“Goodnight, Mr. Bridgerton,” she said without looking back. “I suggest you leave now, and forget this ever happened.”

Benedict stood there, rooted to the spot, his heart in tatters as the door clicked shut behind her.

The room was now empty, but it felt suffocating, the silence unbearable.

He had offered her everything, and she had thrown it all away.

───��─────

After the harsh sting of Caterina’s rejection, Benedict returned to his home, feeling as though the weight of the world had settled upon his shoulders.

The halls of the Bridgerton residence were filled with the familiar sounds of family life, laughter, and chatter echoing from the drawing room, but all he could hear was the dull thrum of disappointment in his chest.

He moved aimlessly through the corridors, seeking solace, yet the warmth of the home felt distant and cold.

Eventually, he found his way to the garden, a sanctuary where he often escaped to reflect and breathe.

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, yet the beauty of the evening was lost on him.

He approached the swing set nestled under a sprawling oak, its ropes slightly swaying in the gentle breeze, and lowered himself onto one of the swings.

Benedict pushed off the ground slightly, the creaking of the swing mirroring the ache in his heart.

He stared at the flowers in bloom around him, their vibrant colors stark against his gloom.

Caterina had taken him by surprise, he had believed they shared something meaningful, a connection that transcended the expectations of their society.

Yet she had rejected him.

What had he expected?

Caterina was seeking someone with a title, a man who could offer her a future of security and status.

He was just a Bridgerton, an artist with no lofty prospects to present.

As he pondered these thoughts, he heard footsteps approaching.

He glanced up to see his sister, Eloise, striding toward him with her usual confidence.

Spotting him in his melancholic state, she paused at the entrance to the garden, her hands on her hips, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Goodness, Benedict! You look positively miserable,” she called out, a teasing lilt to her voice as she settled onto the swing opposite him, “I thought the great Benedict Bridgerton was above such sulking.”

He managed a weak smile, grateful for her presence.

“Ah, dear sister, you have me at a disadvantage. I had hoped to wallow in my melancholy without your sharp tongue piercing through it.”

Eloise swung her legs back and forth, a playful rhythm setting the tempo of their conversation.

“Wallowing? I must say, you’re not doing a very good job of it. If you’re going to be dramatic, at least commit to the performance.”

Benedict let out a soft chuckle, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

“I suppose you’re right. It’s just… it didn’t go as I had hoped. I proposed, I proposed to Miss Caterina Medici and she, well, she turned me down.”

Eloise raised an eyebrow, her expression shifting from playful to genuinely concerned.

“Miss Medici? I thought you had something special!”

“Apparently not special enough,” he replied, his voice laced with bitterness. “She wants someone with prospects. I’m just a man with dreams of paint and canvas.”

Eloise regarded him for a moment, her eyes softening.

“Ben, listen to me. Marriage and love are not the be-all and end-all of life. Sure, they can be wonderful, but they are not essential. You have your art. Why should you pin your happiness on the whims of a woman who doesn’t see your worth?”

“It’s not that simple,” he countered, his frustration creeping back. “I thought, after everything, she understood me. But I guess I was wrong.”

Eloise pushed herself off the ground, swinging higher, the momentum lifting her spirits.

“You were not wrong to feel what you felt, but you can’t let it define you. Look at me, I’m quite the catch and yet, I refuse to be tied down by the ridiculous notions of society.”

She smirked. “Besides, who needs a husband when I have the honor of being my own person?”

Benedict couldn’t help but grin at her defiance.

“Perhaps you’re right. I should focus on what I can create instead.”

“Exactly!” Eloise exclaimed, swinging higher.

“Pour your heart into your art. Let it be your refuge. And who knows? Perhaps you’ll find someone who appreciates you for who you are, not for what you can offer. And if not, well, at least you’ll have created something beautiful.”

For a moment, silence enveloped them, punctuated only by the gentle creaking of the swings.

Benedict felt the weight on his heart begin to lift, replaced by a flicker of hope.

Eloise was right, there was so much more to life than the confines of society’s expectations.

“Thank you, Eloise,” he finally said, his voice steadier. “You always know how to put things into perspective.”

“Of course! That’s what sisters are for,” she replied, her sharp humor shining through once more.

“Now, stop sulking. Let’s go find something to eat. I hear there’s a cake in the kitchen, and I refuse to let my brother wallow on an empty stomach.”

With that, they both rose from their swings, laughter echoing through the garden, the evening sun casting a warm glow around them.

─────────

In the Langstone garden, beneath a canopy of stars, Caterina sat on a secluded bench, her thoughts as restless as the night around her.

Clad in her nightgown, she gazed up at the sky, seeking solace in its vastness.

The soft rustling of leaves announced her sister’s arrival, and soon Teresa’s familiar form appeared beside her.

“I knew I would find you here,” Teresa said gently, settling next to her. “You always look at the sky when something troubles you.”

Her voice was a balm, warm and comforting in the cool night air.

Caterina turned to her, offering a small, grateful smile.

She appreciated the simple gesture, yet it did little to ease the storm brewing within her.

“It’s just a beautiful night,” she replied, her tone light but her heart heavy.

“Do you want to talk?” Teresa nudged her arm lightly, the familiarity of their bond evident in the gesture.

Caterina shook her head, her smile fading into a more introspective expression.

Teresa made a soft sound of disapproval, leaning her head against Caterina’s shoulder.

“Oh, Kitty,” she murmured as if that simple truth could coax out all the secrets Caterina held close, “Do you remember when Papa would catch us sneaking sweets from the kitchen, and then Mama would pretend to scold us, but we knew she was secretly amused? We were like little genies, always getting into mischief.”

Caterina laughed softly at the memory, the sound tinged with bittersweet nostalgia.

“I can almost taste the chocolate now,” she mused, her mind drifting to the simplicity of those carefree days.

Teresa seized on that moment of lightness. “I think I know why you’re so unsettled tonight.”

“Oh? And what might that be?” Caterina asked, a hint of challenge in her voice as she raised an eyebrow.

Teresa didn’t miss a beat. “Something happened, didn’t it? And maybe, just maybe, it involves a certain Mr. Benedict Bridgerton.”

Caterina snorted dismissively, but Teresa wasn’t fooled.

She lifted her head, her eyes soft but searching as they met Caterina’s.

“You have feelings for him, Kitty… it’s as clear as day. You cannot deny it.”

Caterina’s laugh was bitter, laced with sarcasm. “Feelings? What a notion… You’re just exaggerating.”

But Teresa remained steadfast, her gaze unwavering. “You know I’m not. There is nothing wrong with loving someone. Why are you so strict with yourself?”

Caterina’s voice grew colder, more defensive.

“Falling in love is something I can’t afford, Tess. It’s a luxury for fools and those who still believe in fairy tales.”

“So, I’m a fool, then? Just because I love Lord Ducker?” Teresa asked, her tone gentle but firm.

Caterina sighed, her resolve faltering. “You know that’s not what I meant. He’s a good man, with good intentions.”

Teresa’s voice grew softer, more tender. “Kitty, you’re still holding onto the past… It’s been so long. It’s time to move on.”

“I have moved on, haven’t I? We’re here, aren’t we? Searching for a husband. Isn’t that enough?”

Caterina’s words were sharp, but there was an undercurrent of vulnerability in them that Teresa didn’t miss.

Teresa sighed again, taking her sister’s hand in hers. “What happened, Kitty? What did Mr. Bridgerton do?”

Caterina’s face tensed, her voice dropping to a whisper. “He proposed… and I refused him.”

Teresa’s expression shifted to one of surprise and concern.

“He proposed? Oh, Kitty… what did you say? Why would you refuse him?”

Caterina turned her gaze to the ground, shame creeping into her heart.

“I told him he was just a man without a title, with no prospect. I made it clear that I would never marry him. But…”

“And do you regret it?” Teresa asked, her brow furrowing. “You don’t truly mean that, do you? He’s such a good man, and you two seem to have a genuine connection.”

Caterina felt the heat rising to her cheeks. “I thought I could play my part, Tess. I can’t let my feelings, my desires -”

She looked away, her heart heavy with the weight of unspoken emotions. “There are expectations… you know this. I must secure a future.”

Teresa’s eyes softened with understanding. “But what if that future comes at the cost of your happiness? You should not deny yourself something that could bring you joy.” She paused, her voice dropping to a near whisper.

Teresa’s eyes softened with understanding. “Mr. Bridgerton is a good man, Kitty. Look at his family, and how they care for one another. Why do you deprive yourself of being happy? You always put others’ happiness above your own, and never yours.”

Caterina’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she whispered, “Because when I did, I brought us here, away from our home. I don’t want to cause any more displeasure for our family.”

She had come to England hoping to start anew, but those shadows were long and unforgiving.

“That’s not true, Kitty,” Teresa insisted, squeezing her sister’s hand. “You did not cause any displeasure. It’s not your fault we are here. Mama and I have told you that over and over.”

Caterina looked away, the familiar pang of guilt resurfacing.

Teresa smiled softly, brushing a tear from Caterina’s cheek. “You should listen to me more. You always act like the older sister, but in truth, we came into this world at the same time. We’re twins.”

“Twins,” Caterina repeated, her voice tinged with a mix of affection and frustration. “Sometimes, I wish you could see the world through my eyes.”

“I think I do, in some ways,” Teresa replied gently. “I see you, Kitty. I see your heart, and I believe you can find a way to navigate this. You can’t do that if you keep running from the truth of who you are and what you feel.”

Caterina remained silent, her gaze fixed on the stars, as she struggled with the truth in her sister’s words.

Teresa squeezed her sister’s hand reassuringly. “Remember that. You’ve always been the strong one, Kitty,” Teresa added softly. “And no matter what happens, you’ll find your way.”

Though the conversation had eased some of her fears, the path forward was still shrouded in uncertainty.

A part of her craved the freedom to love and be loved, yet the other part was shackled by the chains of her past and the weight of her family’s expectations.

Caterina’s heart fluttered at her sister’s unwavering faith in her.

Yet, the uncertainty lingered, whispering doubts and fears in her ear as she stared into the depths of the night sky.

The stars shimmered back at her, each one a flicker of hope, urging her to embrace the possibilities that lay ahead.

And when Teresa returned to bed Caterina remained sat in the Langstone garden.

The cold night air seeped through the thin fabric of her nightgown, but she barely felt it.

She still was too lost in her thoughts, tangled in the web of emotions that had been brewing ever since Benedict had proposed.

The conversation with Teresa had stirred something deep within her, but the calmness of her sister’s words hadn’t fully extinguished the storm raging inside.

Instead, it had merely pulled back the veil she had kept so tightly wrapped around her heart.

As she stared up at the sky, the stars blurred before her eyes.

She wasn’t sure if it was the darkness or the upcoming tears, but either way, the night offered no comfort.

The expanse above seemed endless, much like the uncertainty gnawing at her chest.

Her mind kept drifting back to that moment, Benedict’s face, the way his eyes had softened when he spoke, his voice steady yet vulnerable as he asked her to be his wife.

It had caught her off guard, even though, deep down, she had sensed that it was coming.

And what had she done?

She had thrown his words back at him, cold and cutting.

“A man without a title, no wealth, no status” she had called him. “you were nothing more than entertainment. A fleeting distraction”

The memory of those words burned inside her now, laced with the bitterness of regret.

How could she have said something so cruel?

But she knew why.

It wasn’t because she didn’t care for him.

Quite the opposite.

Her feelings for him had grown in ways she hadn’t expected, hadn’t wanted to acknowledge.

He was different from the other men who had courted her.

They had come with titles, with estates, with the proper airs and expectations of society.

But Benedict had none of that.

And yet, he had something far more dangerous, he had the power to make her feel.

That was what scared her the most.

She had spent years mastering the art of detachment.

Love, she had always believed, was a frivolous thing, a distraction that only led to heartbreak.

She had found out for yourself and witnessed the destruction that love could cause when it wasn’t reciprocated or when it was taken for granted.

And she had vowed never to let herself fall into that trap again.

But now, here she was, caught in the very snare she had so carefully avoided.

And the worst part was, that she had pushed away the one man who might have been worth the risk.

“You have feelings for him, Kitty,” Teresa had said, her voice soft yet insistent.

At the time, Caterina had scoffed and dismissed it as nonsense.

But now, in the silence of the garden, those words echoed in her mind with undeniable truth.

Did she have feelings for him?

Could she?

The very thought unsettled her and made her heart race with a mixture of fear and longing.

Benedict Bridgerton was not just a man she could admire from afar.

He was someone who had seen her, truly seen her, not as a prize to be won or a means to elevate his social standing, but as a woman with thoughts, desires, and flaws.

And she had lashed out at him for it, terrified of what it meant to be seen so clearly.

She leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees, her hands clutching the fabric of her nightgown as if it could ground her.

“We came here to find a husband,” she thought, her mind circling back to the very reason they had left Italy.

That had been the plan, hadn’t it? To secure a future, to marry well, to restore the family’s fortune and reputation.

But now, the idea seemed hollow, almost laughable.

“And I received a proposal from a man for whom I could feel something…,” she mused, the irony not lost on her.

She had come to England with a clear purpose, yet the one proposal that had come her way was from a man who defied every expectation she had set for herself.

Benedict was not like the suitors she had imagined.

He was not a lord with vast estates or a baron with endless wealth.

He was an artist, someone who saw the world through a different lens, someone who valued creativity and passion over status.

And in him, she had seen a glimpse of a life that was different from the one she had been raised to pursue.

Could she have that life?

Could she allow herself to embrace something so uncertain, so far removed from the path she had always believed she should follow?

Her mind flashed back to Teresa’s words. “You deserve to be happy.”

The statement had been so simple, so earnest, and yet it had struck a chord deep within her.

Caterina had never truly considered her own happiness.

She had always placed duty above desire, obligation above emotion.

But now, in the stillness of the night, she allowed herself to wonder…

was that all she was meant for?

A life of doing what was expected of her, at the cost of her own heart?

She thought about Benedict again, about the way he had looked at her as if she were more than just a Medici, more than just a pawn in the game of marriage and social advancement.

He had seen her as a woman, someone with her own thoughts, her own dreams.

And for a brief moment, she had felt seen.

Truly seen.

But that feeling had scared her.

It had made her want to retreat, to hide behind the walls she had built so carefully over the years.

And that was why she had rejected him.

Not because he wasn’t worthy, but because she was afraid.

Afraid of what it meant to open herself up to the possibility of love.

Love.

The word felt foreign on her tongue, yet it lingered in her thoughts.

Could she love Benedict?

Could she allow herself to feel something so deep, so consuming?

Her heart ached with the weight of the question.

She had spent so long denying herself the possibility of happiness, convinced that it was a luxury she couldn’t afford.

But now, she was beginning to see that perhaps she had been wrong.

Perhaps happiness wasn’t something to be earned or deserved, it was something to be embraced.

And Benedict had offered her that chance.

A chance to be loved, to be happy.

Tears welled in her eyes as the realization settled over her.

She had been running from the very thing she had secretly longed for.

She had pushed him away, not because he wasn’t enough, but because she had believed she wasn’t enough.

“I deserve to be happy,” she whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of the truth.

It felt strange to say it aloud, to acknowledge that she, too, was worthy of love and joy.

But now that the words were out, she couldn’t take them back.

They hung in the air, mingling with the night breeze, and for the first time in a long time, Caterina felt a flicker of hope.

It wasn’t too late.

She could still make things right.

She could still choose to follow her heart, to take the risk that she had been so afraid of.

With a deep breath, she rose from the bench, her legs shaky but her resolve stronger than it had been earlier.

Tomorrow, she would find Benedict.

Tomorrow, she would face the truth, her truth.

And no matter how terrifying it might be, she would no longer hide from it.

“I deserve to be happy,” she repeated, more firmly this time, as if saying the words again would make them real.

And maybe, just maybe, she would find the courage to believe them.

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thecrayonindisguise · 8 months ago

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ANTHONY & KATHANI BRIDGERTON + dancing

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thecrayonindisguise · 8 months ago

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PRIDE AND PREJUDICE (2005)

LIZZIE AND DARCY

dir. joe wright

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thecrayonindisguise · 8 months ago

Text

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thecrayonindisguise · 8 months ago

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Chapter 6 Tangled in Desire|| Bonds and Barriers

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Original Female Character

Masterpost || << prev || next >>

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: slightly smut, just kissing and touching and smoking again.

Authors Note: Heyyy! How are you all? so this is gonna be a looong chapter! I must admit it was tough for me to put such a scene into words, it's my first time for everything so... sorry I will get better next time I promise. But until now I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I wrote way too much :) and it's only the beginning. Until next chapter! <3

Dearest Readers,

The event of the season is upon us, and I daresay all of the ton is positively vibrating with excitement.

Yes, darlings, I speak of none other than the upcoming Bridgerton Ball at Aubrey Hall, a grand affair that promises to be as dazzling as the illustrious family hosting it.

Rumor has it that this particular soirée will eclipse every other ball of the season, for not only will it be held at the Bridgertons’ stunning country estate, but nearly every notable family in London will be in attendance.

The invitations have been coveted, and sought after like the rarest of jewels, and only the most discerning and well-connected members of society will be counted among the guests.

The halls of Aubrey Hall will echo with laughter and music, while the grounds, with their picturesque lake and charming gardens, will be alive with activities.

It is said that the Bridgerton family has planned an array of delightful amusements to entertain their guests throughout the day before the grand ball.

A competitive game of pallmall is expected to take place (and we all know how fiercely competitive this family can be).

I do wonder, who will emerge victorious this year?

The ball itself, of course, is where all eyes will turn.

With the crème de la crème of society gathering beneath the glittering chandeliers, it shall be a spectacle of fashion and flirtation.

Who will wear the most talked-about gown? Who will step on whose toes in the first quadrille? But, most tantalizing of all, who will secure the attention of a certain eligible Bridgerton or other notable bachelors present?

There has been much speculation about possible matches. most notably, the presence of the intriguing Miss Caterina Medici and her twin sister, Teresa, who have captured the attention of more than a few eligible gentlemen.

Might a new romance blossom at Aubrey Hall? Or perhaps one already burning beneath the surface will finally reveal itself?

One can only wait with bated breath to see what secrets, alliances, and affairs of the heart will unfold amidst the glittering splendor.

One thing is certain, dear readers: Aubrey Hall will be the heart of society’s most scandalous gossip in the coming days, and your faithful writer shall be sure to report every delicious detail.

Until then, I remain ever watchful.

Yours truly,

Lady Whistledown

─────────

The morning air at Aubrey Hall was alive with the hum of anticipation.

The time has come.

The arrival of the ton had begun in earnest, carriages pulling up the gravel drive in a stately procession, each more lavish than the last.

The sweeping lawns and manicured gardens of the Bridgerton estate were awash in the soft golden light of the day, reflecting off the glistening windows and the finely detailed columns of the great house.

The scent of fresh flowers filled the air, mingling with the crispness of summer, as liveried footmen hurried about, helping guests out of their carriages and escorting them toward the grand entrance.

Inside, the atmosphere buzzed with energy.

Servants moved swiftly, carrying trays of refreshments, and maids in their crisp uniforms hurried about, ensuring that every cushion was fluffed and every piece of silver polished.

The grand hall was already filled with clusters of elegantly dressed guests, ladies in their finest gowns, feathers, and jewels glittering in their hair, and gentlemen in their impeccable morning coats, exchanging pleasantries as they waited for the festivities to begin.

The tone was one of restrained excitement.

The Bridgertons’ annual ball at Aubrey Hall was the event of the season, and everyone who was anyone in the ton was in attendance. The whispers of expectation floated through the air, as some of the guests gathered in small groups near the large bay windows that overlooked the gardens, catching glimpses of more carriages rolling in.

The women fanned themselves delicately, eyes bright with curiosity about who would arrive next, while the men discussed matters of business and politics with a kind of relaxed authority.

In every corner of the grand entrance hall and the adjoining rooms, the chatter was vibrant, flirting, gossiping, discussions of the latest fashion in London, or murmurs of rumored matches that might be solidified at the ball tonight.

Outside, the steady procession continued, with each carriage door opening to reveal the grandest names of the ton. Lady Danbury, unmistakable with her bold cane and air of authority, was among the first to be greeted by Violet Bridgerton herself, who stood at the doors of Aubrey Hall, graciously welcoming each guest.

Lady Danbury offered a few sharp, witty remarks to the nearby ladies, sending ripples of laughter through the gathering as she made her way inside.

Behind her came the Featheringtons, Lady Featherington’s gown bursting with more colors than was appropriate for daylight hours, but her boldness was met with polite smiles from the surrounding crowd.

Penelope trailed behind her mother and sisters, her face a blend of excitement and nerves, already searching the room for familiar faces.

As each new guest arrived, there was a subtle shift in the air, whispers growing louder, glances exchanged, and hushed remarks as the most notable families appeared one by one.

The Cowpers arrived in perfect style, Lady Cowper with her cold, steely grace, and her daughter Cressida looking as pristine and calculating as ever.

The Langstones, ever the picture of elegance, descended from their carriage with an effortless grace that drew eyes, their beauty and poise commanding attention.

The Aubrey Hall gardens, however, were the true jewel of the day, and the guests gravitated toward them as they were guided by the Bridgertons’ staff.

The expansive lawns stretched out like a sea of green, perfectly trimmed hedges outlining pathways that led to delicate white gazebos.

A fountain in the center sparkled in the morning sun, its gentle trickle providing a soft, soothing background to the lively hum of conversation.

Guests strolled leisurely, admiring the flowerbeds and intricate landscaping, all meticulously designed to impress.

Ladies twirled their parasols, fanning themselves against the mild breeze as they gathered in groups on the garden’s edge, their gowns rustling as they exchanged gossip and stole glances at the men milling about.

There was a distinct air of competition in the air, as mothers eyed potential matches for their daughters, evaluating each eligible gentleman with a sharp, practiced eye.

Young women, eager to make an impression, fluttered about like butterflies, their laughter light and musical as they cast charming glances toward the men.

Among the crowd, the Bridgerton siblings were scattered, mingling with guests and doing their duty as hosts.

Anthony, ever the responsible eldest, moved about with a sense of duty and command, exchanging pleasantries with the more influential members of the ton while keeping a close eye on everything.

Colin was in his element, charming as ever, flashing his easy smile at every lady who crossed his path, while Eloise was already growing bored, her sharp tongue barely concealed as she made cutting remarks to anyone who tried to engage her in small talk.

But it was Benedict who seemed the most distracted.

He stood near the fountain, nodding absently at something Lord Dewitt was saying, though his eyes kept drifting toward the edge of the crowd, as though searching for someone.

His mind was elsewhere, replaying the memory of the previous day, the taste of that stolen kiss by the lake still lingering on his lips.

As the guests continued to arrive, Violet Bridgerton paused near the garden entrance, watching the scene unfold with a soft, satisfied smile.

This ball, this gathering of the ton, was her crowning achievement every season.

She greeted each new arrival with warmth and grace, always the perfect hostess, her sharp eyes never missing a detail.

And yet, there was something else stirring in the air today, something beyond the usual excitement of a ball.

It was as though the very atmosphere crackled with unspoken tension as if everyone sensed that tonight would be more than just a dance, tonight, something was bound to happen.

The whispers were louder, the glances sharper, and the possibilities endless.

All of the ton was here, gathered in one place, waiting for the sun to set and the night’s festivities to begin.

─────────

Upstairs in one of the grand guest rooms of Aubrey Hall, the atmosphere was decidedly different from the lively excitement that had overtaken the gardens below.

Sunlight filtered softly through the tall windows, casting a golden hue over the room’s elegant furnishings.

A long vanity table stood by the wall, its surface littered with hairpins, ribbons, and delicate perfumes, all the trappings of a lady preparing for the day’s events.

Teresa, perched on the edge of the vanity stool, was buzzing with energy.

Her eyes gleamed with excitement as she inspected herself in the mirror, fastening a delicate bracelet around her wrist, her hair already styled in perfect soft curls.

She chattered nonstop, her voice lilting with anticipation, as she tried on different earrings, holding them up to her reflection, undecided.

“Oh, Kitty, just imagine today,” Teresa said, smiling brightly. “All the ton gathered here, the music, the dances… I can’t wait to see who is paired with whom at the ball later. And the garden is perfect, have you seen it? It’s like a dream!”

But Caterina, sitting on the edge of the bed, her dress half-buttoned and her hair still undone, barely heard her sister’s words.

She stared blankly at the intricate wallpaper, her mind far away.

The events of the previous day swirled in her thoughts, and even more vividly, the dream that had followed, the lingering sensation of Benedict’s kiss still burned on her lips, more real than she would have liked.

She could hear Teresa’s excitement, but it felt distant, like the buzz of a crowd from far off.

Caterina’s chest felt tight, an uncomfortable knot forming in her stomach.

She couldn’t shake that memory…the hunger in his touch.

She had been carried away in the moment, swept up in the intensity of it.

But now, in the sober light of day, it felt like a mistake, something reckless and dangerous.

Something that could ruin everything if anyone knew.

Teresa’s voice pulled her back, just as she finished fastening the last pearl earring. “Kitty, are you even listening?” she asked, turning around to look at her twin with a playful frown. “You’re acting like we won’t have the most exhilarating day ahead. Where’s your excitement? We have a full day, and tonight…” She grinned, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Well, tonight we’ll be the center of attention, you know…the only guests of the bridgerton who arrived earlier than everyone else”

Caterina forced a smile, the muscles in her face stiff as she turned to face Teresa.

“Yes, of course. I’m just… distracted,” she murmured, brushing a hand through her hair, trying to compose herself. “So much to think about, you know how these events can be. We must make sure we’re… perfect.” The word hung in the air like an obligation, something heavy and pressing down on her.

Teresa waved her hand dismissively, clearly not sensing the weight behind Caterina’s words. “We’re always perfect. What are you so worried about?”

She returned her attention to the mirror, adjusting a pin in her hair. “It’s not like anything could go wrong. We’re always the best-dressed and the most charming”

Caterina swallowed hard, her eyes unfocused as she stood to finish dressing.

She moved mechanically, her fingers working through the motions of buttoning up her gown with the help of Vanessa, her personal maid, but her thoughts were elsewhere, lost in a fog of uncertainty.

She had spent her life perfecting the art of appearing unbothered, of controlling her emotions, of being exactly what everyone expected her to be, a polished, composed woman, always in control.

But now, with each passing moment, it felt like she was slipping.

The dream from the night before, the heat, the passion, the way Benedict had looked at her, touched her, lingered in the back of her mind, refusing to let go.

It had felt too real, too raw, awakening something in her that she had never allowed herself to acknowledge.

And that was the problem.

She couldn’t afford this.

She couldn’t afford him .

She had to keep herself in check, had to bury these feelings before they became a real problem.

She glanced at herself in the mirror, catching her own reflection, the tightness around her eyes, the faint worry etched on her brow.

She had to pull herself together.

No one could know what had happened by the lake.

She would be the same Caterina as always, the one who laughed at the right jokes, flirted with the right gentlemen, and never, ever let anyone see beneath the surface.

But it was harder than she expected.

Her thoughts drifted back to Benedict.

A warmth spread through her at the memory, followed quickly by a sharp stab of guilt.

No, she couldn’t think about it.

She had to focus, had to be the Caterina everyone expected, not this uncertain, restless version of herself.

She straightened, forcing herself to push the thoughts aside, to shove them deep down where they couldn’t reach her.

She plastered on a smile, glancing over at Teresa who was practically glowing with excitement.

“I’m fine, Tess. Really,” she said, her voice lighter now, though the weight in her chest hadn’t lifted. “I didn’t sleep very well last night.”

Teresa shot her a knowing look, mischief dancing in her eyes. “Well, get some rest after tea then, because tonight… tonight, my dear sister, will be magical.” She winked, clearly unaware of just how closely her teasing words hit to the truth.

Caterina managed a laugh, though it felt hollow. “Yes, magical…” she echoed, her voice soft as she turned back to the mirror, her reflection staring back at her like a stranger.

She had to make sure nothing slipped, not her emotions, not her thoughts, not the tiniest sign that she was unraveling.

The kiss, the dream, the feelings it had stirred, they were hers alone to bear, hidden beneath layers of charm and poise.

Today, she would be the same Caterina as always.

No one would see the turmoil beneath.

No one would see the way her heart had betrayed her the moment Benedict’s lips touched hers.

With a deep breath, she tied the final ribbon of her gown, her resolve tightening like the fabric around her waist.

She had to be perfect.

She had no other choice.

─────────

The sun continued to hang high in the pale blue sky, casting a warm glow over the lush green gardens of Aubrey Hall.

The delicate fragrance of roses filled the air as the Medici sisters, Caterina and Teresa, made their way across the perfectly manicured lawn.

The sisters moved with an air of confidence that had caught the attention of the ton from the moment they arrived in England.

Ahead of them, a group of ladies was already seated at a long table covered in a pristine white cloth, laid out for a morning tea.

At the center sat the Langstone sisters, Cynthia and Olympia, chatting amiably with Eloise Bridgerton and Penelope Featherington.

Other ladies of note were gathered as well, all delicately sipping their tea while shaded under the large garden parasols.

As the Medici sisters approached, the ladies fell silent for a brief moment, the two Italians always bringing a bit of excitement and unpredictability to these otherwise predictable social occasions.

“Ah, Teresa, Caterina!” Olympia exclaimed with a wide smile, rising from her seat to greet them. Cynthia followed, her curiosity barely concealed behind the politeness. “We were just talking about you.”

“Nothing too scandalous, I hope,” Teresa replied with a mischievous smile, her eyes gleaming.

“Of course not,” Olympia said with a laugh, giving Teresa and Caterina each a kiss on the cheek, as was their Italian custom.

The rest of the ladies exchanged polite nods and greetings, each careful to maintain decorum, though it was clear the Medici sisters stirred something beneath the surface of their proper exterior.

Caterina gave a courteous nod, her gaze briefly caught Eloise’s, who gave her a smile of acknowledgment.

“Come, sit with us,” Cynthia gestured to the seats across from her and Olympia.

The sisters took their places, Caterina, next to Teresa, while Eloise and Penelope remained seated to their right.

“It’s such a beautiful morning, isn’t it?” Penelope offered politely, though she remained as ever, reserved and quiet.

“Yes, lovely indeed,” Caterina responded, settling into her chair. “The gardens here are magnificent.”

As tea was poured and the idle gossip of the ton resumed, Caterina’s eyes flickered with amusement.

The conversation at the table drifted from the latest fashions to the upcoming balls and the recent appearances of certain members of the ton as well as the possibilities of imminent proposals.

“Oh, did you see Lady Wargrave at the theater last week?” Cynthia’s voice was delicate, yet ripe with curiosity, her hands wrapped around her teacup. “I could not help but notice she wore that same gown she had on at the Earl’s dinner. Such a disgrace.”

“Indeed,” a lady chimed in, her tone light but judgmental. “A lady should never repeat a gown. Especially one in such poor taste.”

Penelope nodded meekly, though her attention drifted toward Eloise, who, as usual, appeared bored.

Eloise tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair, her gaze wandering across the gardens as if seeking an escape from the endless prattle of gossip.

But then, something shifted.

Her eyes sharpened as Caterina shifted in her seat whose boredom took her over too.

Caterina, with an elegant but slightly mischievous smile, reached into her dress bodice, retrieving something tucked beneath the delicate fabric.

The other ladies continued their conversation, but Eloise watched with increasing fascination.

Slowly, Caterina pulled out a small case, its design sleek, with matches attached to its side.

She placed the case on the table with a soft tap , catching the attention of everyone seated.

The ladies fell silent as Caterina calmly opened the case and gave it a gentle tap to straighten its contents.

Each woman’s gaze now fixated on her with wide eyes, their mouths slightly agape.

“Miss Medici, what are those things?” A lady's voice broke the silence, her curiosity piqued but laced with disapproval.

Caterina glanced up, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

She picked up one of the slender objects from the case, holding it between her fingers as though she were handling a fine jewel. “These, ladies” she began, “are cigarettes.”

She placed one on her lips with a casual air of defiance.

“Do you?” she asked Teresa, turning to her sister with a glint of amusement.

Teresa’s smile mirrored Caterina’s as she reached over and took one without hesitation, placing it between her lips as well.

The other ladies gasped quietly, scandalized.

Caterina, cigarette balanced delicately between her lips, scanned the table. “What?” she asked, her tone both playful and nonchalant. “You don’t have them in London?”

A few of the ladies exchanged nervous glances, and one of them whispered, “Yes, we have, but… it’s not appropriate for a lady to smoke in public. It’s something only gentlemen do.”

Eloise leaned forward, her curiosity growing as she observed the Medici sisters with admiration.

She’d never seen anyone break the rules of society with such ease and charm.

Caterina let out a low chuckle, her cigarette still balanced between her lips.

“Why not? In Italy, it is common for high-class women to smoke. Men and women alike.”

She struck a match against the side of the case, the flame flickering to life.

She brought it to the cigarette and lit it, the orange glow of the ember flickering in the sunlight.

Then, with a smile, she passed the match to Teresa, who followed suit.

As Teresa exhaled a cloud of smoke, she chuckled softly. “How antiquated you are, you British,” she teased, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

Eloise laughed, unable to contain herself, her admiration for the sisters growing with each passing moment.

The ladies' mouths hung open, their shock was evident.

Their gazes flit between the smoking sisters and each other.

Penelope looked particularly uncomfortable, shifting in her seat as if she were witnessing a scandal unfold before her eyes.

“So?” Caterina asked, amused by the stunned silence around her.

She inhaled deeply from her cigarette, then blew out the smoke with the grace of someone utterly unbothered by the judgment she faced. “Shall we continue gossiping?”

Her question hung in the air, jolting the group back into conversation.

Teresa, tapping the cigarette and letting a small amount of ash fall onto the grass, leaned in toward Olympia with a sly smile. “Right. Olympia, you danced all night with Lord Cook at the last ball. How is he?” she asked, her tone dripping with suggestive curiosity.

Olympia’s cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink, and she stammered for a moment before finally responding. “He… He was quite charming. And very… attentive.”

The group erupted in soft giggles, except for Eloise, whose gaze remained firmly on the Medici sisters, her mind turning over the audacity of their actions.

She leaned closer to Caterina and whispered, “It’s incredible.”

Caterina, hearing her, smiled, a knowing glint in her eye.

She winked at Eloise before bringing the cigarette to her lips once again.

“You know,” Eloise spoke up suddenly, addressing the group, “I don’t see why it should be so shocking. Why is it that only men are allowed to smoke? It seems like yet another arbitrary rule imposed on us.”

The other ladies shifted uncomfortably at her directness, but Caterina grinned, clearly pleased with Eloise’s rebellious spirit. “Exactly,” she said. “Arbitrary rules. We should do what pleases us.”

Teresa nodded, exhaling another puff of smoke as she continued the conversation. “Now, speaking of rules… Did anyone else notice Lady Brinsley’s new suitor at the ball, last week? Quite the looker, wouldn’t you agree, Cynthia?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Cynthia replied, regaining her composure. “Though I heard he’s already courting Lady Hartford. It’s all very scandalous.”

As the conversation shifted back to gossip, Caterina found herself leaning back in her chair, taking another drag from her cigarette, and enjoying the brief lull of peace.

The soft murmur of gossip swirled around her like a gentle breeze, but her thoughts began to drift.

She had only half-listened to the last discussion, something about a new marriage proposal, when Teresa nudged her subtly under the table.

Caterina blinked, refocusing her attention just in time to catch Olympia’s amused expression as she recounted a particularly scandalous bit of news.

But her mind was elsewhere.

Where was h e ? The question tugged at the edges of her thoughts.

She had been on edge since the previous night, the vivid, nearly palpable memories of Benedict Bridgerton’s kiss by the lake haunted her every step.

A small part of her dreaded seeing him again, afraid that he would sense the very thoughts that had consumed her.

But then, this morning, over breakfast, she had overheard Lady Featherington’s mention of the hunt.

Benedict Bridgerton, along with his brothers and several other gentlemen, had departed early to spend the day hunting in the woods.

The news had filled her with a strange mix of relief and something else, a feeling that fluttered in her chest and left her more agitated than before.

Good, she had thought at the time, I won’t have to see him until the ball.

And yet, now that she sat here, surrounded by the chattering ladies and basking in the freedom of her cigarette, she couldn’t quite decide if she was truly relieved or deeply unsettled by his absence.

A part of her longed for the calm, to be free of the turbulent feelings that had come with their shared kiss.

But another part, a quieter, more daring part, wanted to see him again.

To see if he felt the same.

As she exhaled another soft cloud of smoke, she glanced over at Teresa, who was laughing easily with Eloise about something, seemingly unaware of her sister’s inner turmoil.

Caterina’s fingers twitched nervously, her cigarette hovering near her lips as she tried to ground herself.

No Benedict today, she reassured herself once more, her heartbeat steadying slightly.

He would be busy with the other men, out in the fields, far from her thoughts.

At least for now.

The ball tonight was when their paths would cross again.

She had until then to collect herself, to regain control over her emotions, to suppress the heat that flared within her whenever his name was mentioned.

With a small, determined smile, she crushed the cigarette beneath her shoe, feeling the slightest bit more composed.

Whatever happened next, she would face it tonight.

For now, she could enjoy the sun, the gossip, and the temporary absence of Benedict Bridgerton.

─────────

The moment that all the ton was waiting for has come.

In the bedroom, the atmosphere was charged with excitement and nervous anticipation.

Teresa, ever the social butterfly, was practically glowing with energy as she made her way between the mirror and the wardrobe, fussing over the final touches to her gown.

Beside her, the Langstone sisters, Cynthia and Olympia, were similarly animated, their faces flushed with the thrill of the upcoming Bridgerton ball.

Caterina, however, was less enthused.

She sat by the window, her fingers absently playing with the lace on her dress.

She had tried her best to remain calm, but the knot of anxiety growing in her chest was impossible to ignore.

The thought of seeing him again had lodged itself in her mind, and she couldn’t shake it, no matter how hard she tried.

The ball loomed ahead like a storm cloud, full of unpredictable possibilities.

“You know,” Cynthia said with a conspiratorial grin, interrupting Caterina’s thoughts, “we’ve been dying to hear more about your time here at Aubrey Hall. What was it like without the t on ? It must’ve been so… intimate.” She wriggled her eyebrows suggestively, prompting a round of giggles from Olympia.

“Yes, we can only imagine,” Olympia chimed in, tugging on one of Teresa’s curls playfully. “You were here for several days before everyone arrived, so much time alone with some of the most eligible gentlemen of the season.”

Caterina rolled her eyes subtly, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks as the Langstone sisters exchanged knowing looks.

Intimate , indeed. If only they knew.

“It was… quieter,” Teresa answered, smiling mysteriously.

She was clearly enjoying the attention, especially since she had the opportunity to drop hints about their time at Aubrey Hall.

“But we certainly weren’t bored, were we, Kitty?”

Caterina glanced at her sister, trying to maintain her composure.

Teresa’s gaze sparkled with mischief, her lips twitching into a grin that hinted at secrets.

“Not bored at all,” Caterina said dryly, her fingers still fiddling with the lace.

“And Lord Ducker?” Olympia asked eagerly, her eyes wide with curiosity. “You spent quite a bit of time with him, didn’t you? What do you think of him?”

Teresa laughed softly, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Lord Ducker…” she began, drawing out the name for effect. “He is quite… interesting. We may have had the chance to overhear a rather enlightening conversation one evening.”

The Langstone sisters leaned in, their curiosity piqued. “What conversation?” Cynthia whispered, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Well…” Teresa continued, lowering her voice to match the mood of the room, “Kitty and I may have found ourselves in the hallway, quite by accident, of course, when we overheard Lord Ducker and some of the other gentlemen discussing rather… personal matters.”

Caterina shot her sister a look, silently warning her not to reveal too much.

Teresa, however, was clearly enjoying herself far too much to stop.

“They were talking about us, you see,” Teresa added, her voice barely above a whisper. “Lord Ducker, in particular, seemed rather interested in a certain lady of the household.”

The Langstone sisters gasped in unison, their faces lighting up with excitement. “Who?” Olympia demanded. “Was it you?”

Teresa chuckled, casting a sly glance at her sister before answering. “Let’s just say there may be something brewing between Lord Ducker and myself. but I suppose we’ll have to wait.”

Caterina inwardly groaned at her sister’s theatrics, though she couldn’t deny that the Langstones were hanging on Teresa’s every word.

As much as she disliked gossip and these sorts of games, she knew Teresa thrived on them.

“Do you think something could happen between you and Lord Ducker, then?” Cynthia asked, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

Teresa smirked, glancing over at Caterina. “It’s possible. But we’ll see how the days unfold.”

The conversation drifted toward the men of Aubrey Hall and their reputations, but Caterina found herself retreating into her thoughts again, her mind circling back to Benedict.

As much as she tried to focus on Teresa’s banter, the pit of unease in her stomach grew deeper.

The ball was fast approaching, and she couldn’t help but feel both anxious and curious about what might happen when she finally crossed paths with Benedict again.

The sisters continued chatting and adjusting their gowns, completely oblivious to Caterina’s growing tension.

Teresa’s excitement was infectious, and the Langstone sisters were already speculating about who might win whose affections tonight.

But Caterina barely registered their words.

As the final preparations were made, the time to leave the bedroom and join the rest of the ton crept closer.

She took one last glance at herself in the mirror, her reflection revealing a woman who looked composed but whose heart was racing beneath the surface.

Tonight, the Bridgerton ball would unfold, and with it, the questions and desires she had been suppressing.

But for now, she focused on steadying her breath, reminding herself that she could survive the night without letting her emotions slip through the cracks.

As long as she could avoid Benedict Bridgerton for just a little longer.

─────────

The grand ballroom of Aubrey Hall sparkled with life, an opulent spectacle that reflected the radiant excitement of the evening.

Chandeliers hung like constellations overhead, casting a warm glow over the swirling gowns and dapper suits of the ton.

The air was thick with the sounds of laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the soft strains of a string quartet weaving through the gilded space.

Caterina stood at the edge of the dance floor, her heart racing as she took in the sights and sounds of the ball.

A magnificent tapestry of colors unfurled before her, where ladies in vibrant gowns twirled like flowers blooming in spring and gentlemen in tailored coats moved with an elegance that only the elite could possess.

The energy was intoxicating, a mixture of anticipation and delight that hummed beneath her skin.

Yet despite the festivities swirling around her, Caterina felt a strange disconnect.

She adjusted the delicate lace of her gown, but the fabric felt heavy against her skin.

There was a weight in her chest, a tumult of emotions that threatened to spill over as she scanned the crowd.

She was searching, hoping to catch sight of one particular figure.

“Kitty!” The familiar voice of her sister Teresa broke through the noise, pulling Caterina from her reverie.

Teresa appeared at her side, her eyes shining with enthusiasm, a wide smile plastered on her face.

“Isn’t it just splendid? Look at everyone! Cynthia and Olympia are already plotting their conquests for the evening.” She glanced around, taking in the lively atmosphere, her excitement palpable.

Caterina forced a smile, her mind still wandering, still focused on Benedict across the room.

“Yes, quite splendid,” she echoed, though her heart was miles away.

“Come, Kitty,” Teresa said, nudging her gently. “You mustn’t stand here all night. I have the perfect gentleman I want you to meet.”

Caterina raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued despite herself. “A gentleman?”

“Yes! Lord Ashford,” Teresa declared, her voice bubbling with excitement. “He’s just returned from Paris, and I hear he has quite the reputation for being charming.”

Before Caterina could respond, Teresa grasped her arm and pulled her toward a tall figure standing at the edge of the dance floor.

“Lord Ashford,” Teresa called, her voice cutting through the din of the ballroom.

The gentleman turned, and his gaze landed on the sisters, a look of genuine pleasure crossing his features.

“Miss Medici, how delightful to see you!” he replied, bowing slightly.

His eyes then shifted to Caterina, a hint of curiosity sparking in them. “And who is this lovely lady?”

“This is my sister, Miss Caterina Medici,” Teresa introduced a hint of pride in her voice. “Kitty, meet Lord Ashford.”

Caterina felt a flutter of nerves as Lord Ashford extended his hand toward her.

“A pleasure, Miss Medici,” he said, his voice rich and warm. “Your sister has spoken quite highly of you.”

“Only the good things, I hope,” Caterina replied, attempting to match his ease.

“Only the best,” Lord Ashford assured her, his smile widening. “And I can see why. You are quite the vision tonight.”

Caterina felt her annoyance grow and masked her response with a dry smile “Thank you, my lord. You are too kind.”

The lively chatter of the man faded into the background as her gaze landed on Benedict across the room.

He was stood in a cluster of people, laughing with a beautiful blonde lady, his face glowing with that easy charm he seemed to carry so effortlessly.

The way his hand rested gently on the woman’s arm as they spoke sent a sharp pang of something through Caterina, unsettling her in ways she hadn’t anticipated.

She tried to shake the feeling, but it clung to her.

The sight of him being so close, so animated with someone else stirred something visceral inside her.

Jealousy? she thought, but immediately pushed the notion away.

No, she wouldn’t give herself that label.

But the more she watched, the more difficult it became to dismiss the feelings swirling in her chest.

The ballroom seemed to shrink, and the sounds of laughter, music, and conversation faded into the background.

All she could focus on was Benedict and that woman.

The man who just met continued his conversation, but his voice turned into a distant hum, lost in the roaring rush of blood in her ears.

She could hardly hear anything over the storm inside her head.

“Miss Medici?” Lord Ashford called, his voice filled with a hint of concern. “Miss Medici?”

Caterina blinked, snapping out of her trance, her grip tightening on the glass.

She cleared her throat, trying to gather herself before facing the man with a practiced, polite smile.

“Yes?” she responded, though her voice felt strained, distant.

He gave her a curious look but returned the smile. “I was just asking your thoughts on the upcoming event. Your sister was telling me about how splendidly planned everything is.”

Caterina blinked again, struggling to pull herself back into the conversation. “Oh, yes,” she answered briefly, her voice distracted. “It will be quite the evening, I’m sure.”

But even as she responded, her gaze slipped back toward Benedict and the woman.

She couldn’t stand here and watch this any longer.

Her heart pounded in her chest, and before she could think better of it, she excused herself from Lord Ashford.

Without hesitation, she made her way toward him, her steps quick and determined, cutting through the crowd as if she were drawn by an invisible string.

When she reached him and the blonde, she smoothly inserted herself into the conversation, standing between them with deliberate confidence.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” she said with a sweet smile, though her voice carried an edge. “The dance is about to start.”

Benedict turned, his face lighting up in mild surprise. “Is it?”

“Yes,” Caterina replied, her tone casual yet firm. “You promised to be my partner for this one.”

Benedict blinked, clearly puzzled. “Did I?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

Caterina chuckled, the sound light but hiding something more. "Yes, of course. Mr. Bridgerton, you wouldn’t break your word to me, would you?"

His gaze flicked to the blonde lady, who seemed taken aback by Caterina’s boldness, before returning to Caterina.

Amusement danced in his eyes as he gave her a crooked smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

She smiled wider. "Then shall we?"

She turned to the blonde woman, her tone as polite as ever. “You must excuse us.”

Without waiting for a proper farewell to the woman, Caterina took his hand, leading him toward the dance floor.

She could feel his eyes on her, his smirk not fading as they found their place among the other dancers.

As the music began, Benedict’s hand rested gently on her waist, and they moved in rhythm with the melody.

He was watching her intently, his smirk still playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Is there something amusing, Mr. Bridgerton?” Caterina asked, her voice sharper than she intended.

Benedict chuckled softly, his grip on her hand firm but playful. “I’m just marveling at how you asked me for a dance, Miss Medici. Quite forward of you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I did not ask. I merely reminded you of your commitment.”

“You just asked me for a dance” He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself.

“No, I did not,” she said, her tone clipped.

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No,” she repeated, more firmly this time.

“Yes,” Benedict insisted, his smile widening. “You did.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. “Miss Medici, it’s alright to admit it. There’s no shame in wanting my company.”

“I don’t want your company,” she snapped, her cheeks flushing slightly. “You’ve misunderstood.”

“Have I?” His smile widened as he spun her gracefully. “Because it seems to me that you’ve gone out of your way to claim this dance.”

“I did no such thing,” she replied, but her words lacked conviction.

He grinned, his signature crooked smile making an appearance as he shook his head. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

Caterina clenched her jaw. “Of course, I am not.”

“You are,” he said, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “That’s why you interrupted, isn’t it?”

“I interrupted nothing,” she retorted, her tone icy.

She glanced away, her grip tightening around his hand.

Benedict laughed softly, the sound rich and teasing. “You don’t have to deny it, Miss Medici. It’s rather flattering.”

Caterina clenched her jaw, her heart pounding in her chest.

She wanted to deny it, to brush him off, but the truth had already slipped through the cracks in her resolve.

She was jealous.

Jealous of that blonde woman.

Jealous of the way Benedict had looked at her.

But she wouldn’t admit that.

Not now, not to him.

“You’re infuriating,” she hissed, though there was a hint of breathlessness to her words that she couldn’t quite hide.

Benedict’s grin softened into something more tender. “And you’re the most beautiful woman in this room.”

Her heart stuttered at the softness in his voice, the way his gaze seemed to shift from playful to something deeper.

Caterina’s breath hitched, but she kept her gaze averted, refusing to show how his words affected her.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he murmured, his voice so close, sending shivers down her spine. “I can’t stop thinking about it either… about the lake”

Caterina’s breath hitched, and she turned to face him, her expression hardening. “Stop.”

But Benedict didn’t pull away. “Stop what?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

The music slowed, signaling the end of the dance, but neither of them moved.

They stood in the middle of the ballroom, the world fading around them.

Caterina released Benedict’s hand immediately and dropped into a quick curtsy, her face flushed.

Without another word, she turned and fled the ballroom, her heart racing.

She couldn’t handle another moment like that, not with him.

As she hurried down the hallway, away from the music and laughter, her heart raced with frustration.

Pushing through a side door, she found herself in an empty parlor, the dim lighting and silence offering a brief reprieve from the chaos of her emotions.

Her hands trembled as she closed the door behind her, moving around the room.

What was wrong with her?

Why had she reacted so strongly?

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to calm the whirlwind inside her.

What was happening to her?

Moments later, the door creaked open again…

─────────

The grand ballroom was alive with the glittering lights of chandeliers and the sound of lively chatter, but Teresa Medici was not in the mood for any of it.

She stood beside her mother, Lady Medici, whose sharp gaze flitted from one guest to another, taking in every subtle detail of the evening’s social maneuvers.

Teresa, however, was preoccupied.

Her eyes darted constantly toward her sister, Caterina, standing across the room chatting with Lord Ashford but with an unreadable expression.

Teresa had been worried about Caterina since yesterday, ever since she had found her locked away in her room, pale and distracted, her normally composed demeanor fraying at the edges.

It wasn’t like Caterina to lose her composure like that.

Something had happened. But what?

“Teresa, darling,” Lady Medici’s voice interrupted her thoughts, a question hanging between them. Teresa blinked, realizing her mother had been speaking to her.

“I’m sorry, Mama,” Teresa said, her voice soft, distracted. “What did you say?”

Lady Medici arched an elegant brow, a look of mild disapproval crossing her features. “I asked if you’ve seen Lady Ducker this afternoon. She asked what were your favorite flowers, maybe it could be a sign of - ”

Lady Medici followed her daughter’s gaze, her expression softening slightly. “You’re worried about your sister,” she observed, her voice quieter now, understanding threading through the words.

Teresa sighed, finally turning to face her mother fully.

“I am. She hasn’t been herself since yesterday, and I can’t figure out what’s bothering her.” Her brow furrowed as she searched for the right words. “She seems… distracted. As if her mind is somewhere else entirely.”

Lady Medici glanced at Caterina across the ballroom, her eyes narrowing slightly in thought.

“I noticed it too…,” she said thoughtfully. “It is rare to see her so unsettled.”

Teresa nodded, her anxiety growing. “She’s barely spoken to anyone all night, and she hasn’t danced at all, which is unlike her even though she hates it. But tonight she seems… lost.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a sudden movement in the room.

Teresa caught sight of Caterina, her posture rigid as she abruptly excused herself from Lord Ashford with whom she had been standing with.

Without a word, she turned and began weaving her way through the throngs of guests, her expression tight, her steps quick.

She observed her moving toward Mr Bridgerton and a blonde lady, they exchanged some words until the music started and she and Mr. Bridgerton started dancing together.

So a this action Teresa didn't place much importance until the dance finished and the music stopped… and then she saw her sister quickly exit from the crowd.

Something happened between them.

Between her sister and Mr. Bridgerton.

It wasn’t the graceful exit of someone in control, it was the hurried retreat of someone desperate to escape.

Teresa’s heart leaped in her chest. “Mama,” she whispered urgently, her eyes widening. “Look.”

Lady Medici followed her daughter’s gaze just in time to see Caterina disappearing through the large double doors leading out into the hallway.

“What on earth…?” Lady Medici began, her brow furrowing in concern.

But before either of them could move, Teresa saw something else that made her breath catch.

Benedict Bridgerton followed swiftly after her, his steps purposeful, his expression unreadable.

Lady Medici’s stomach tightened. “Why is Mr. Bridgerton following her?” she asked, her lips thinned into a tight line, her eyes narrowing as she watched the scene unfold.

“This is not proper,” she murmured, her voice low and tense. “Teresa, find out what is going on. Now.”

Teresa didn’t need to be told twice.

Without a second thought, she gathered her skirts and moved quickly through the crowd, her mind racing.

She had no idea what had passed between her sister and Mr. Bridgerton, but the fact that he had followed her so urgently, it all felt far too intimate, far too personal.

─────────

Caterina could barely breathe as she stepped away from the dance floor.

The music, the people, the laughter, all seemed to close in on her.

But more than anything, it was Benedict.

Benedict Bridgerton

His smile, the sound of his laughter, the way his eyes lingered on her, it was unbearable.

No matter how hard she tried to push it away, it haunted her.

Her breathing was ragged as she stepped inside, her hands trembling as she clutched the door behind her as if closing it could keep out the torrent of emotions threatening to overtake her.

She needed space, to clear her head, to breathe.

But all she could think of was Benedict, his touch, his voice, the way his eyes followed her.

It consumed her, every moment they shared.

A moment that should have never happened, but now lived in her thoughts like a ghost she couldn't escape.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart, but it was no use.

The memory of Benedict’s lips on hers, the warmth of his body so close, the way her heart had skipped at the feel of him, it all came rushing back in vivid, tormenting detail.

She had no business thinking about him, but her mind betrayed her.

But the door creaked open behind her.

She froze, knowing who it was before she even turned around.

“Miss Medici…”

His voice.

The very sound of it sent a wave of emotions crashing over her, but she couldn’t bring herself to face him.

She remained where she was, in the middle of the room with her back turned to him.

“Is everything all right?” Benedict asked, his voice soft, but she could hear the concern in it as he took a few tentative steps toward her, entering the room and closing the door behind him.

Her heart ached at the sound of his voice, but she forced herself to remain composed, her voice cold and detached as she replied, "You should leave Mr. Bridgerton, before anyone could see us."

Benedict stopped moving, standing only a few steps away from her now, his eyes fixed on her back.

"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked again, his tone gentle. "If I said something that made you uncomfortable, I’m truly sorry."

Caterina bit her lip, the weight of his words pressing down on her.

She knew it wasn’t what he said, but his very presence that made her feel this way.

It was him. It was always him.

“It’s you,” she finally said, her voice stronger now, though it wavered with the emotions she was trying so hard to suppress.

She turned slowly to face him, her eyes locking onto his. “It’s you that makes me so uneasy. Your look, your voice, your attitude, your, your everything.”

Benedict’s brow furrowed, his confusion clear, but beneath it, there was something else, a flicker of understanding. “So… are you feeling the same?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost hopeful.

Caterina’s pulse hammered in her ears, but she kept her expression steady, unwilling to let him see how deeply his presence affected her.

She didn’t answer, didn’t trust herself to.

The truth was far too dangerous to admit aloud.

Benedict took a tentative step closer, his voice softening.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. About you . ” His eyes searched hers as if looking for any sign she felt the same way.

“The way we kissed, the way you looked at me that day… I thought, no, I know there’s something between us. So why are you running from it?”

She clenched her fists at her sides, fighting the heat rising in her chest.

She couldn’t let him break through her defenses.

“I’m not running,” she said, her voice biting, though her heart screamed otherwise. “I’m being cautious.”

“cautious?” Benedict echoed, his brow furrowing in disbelief.

He took another step closer, his hand almost reaching out to her before stopping himself.

“Is that what you call this? Ignoring what happened between us? Pretending that you don’t feel what I do?”

Caterina’s breath hitched.

His words struck too close, like a blade digging into an open wound.

She wanted to scream at him, to tell him to stop, to leave her alone, but a part of her, the part she fought so hard to suppress, wanted him to stay.

To keep pressing.

Her voice came out in a harsh whisper, brittle and full of anguish, “You think this is easy for me?”

Benedict’s eyes softened, and he closed the distance between them in a single stride.

Now only inches separated them, his presence overwhelming, intoxicating.

“Then why are you doing this? Why are you pushing me away?”

Her chest heaved, her emotions threatening to spill over.

“Because…” She faltered, her voice cracking under the weight of her words. “Because it shouldn’t have happened, Mr. Bridgerton… it was wrong.”

“Wrong?” He looked at her in disbelief. “How can it be wrong when it feels like this?”

He reached out, gently cupping her cheek.

His touch was warm, and tender, and it made her want to collapse into him, to let herself feel everything she’d been trying so desperately to deny.

His thumb brushed softly against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine.

Caterina closed her eyes, her resolve crumbling as she leaned into his touch, just for a moment.

But then the fear crept back in.

The fear of what this would mean, of what she would lose if she let herself fall for him completely.

She pulled back abruptly, stepping out of his reach, her hand trembling as it fell away from him. “I can’t , ” she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears. “We can’t.”

Benedict’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening. “Why? Why can’t we? Tell me the real reason…Caterina”

Caterina’s breath hitched, her chest tightening at his words, at her name pronounced that way.

She looked away, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze, her mind racing.

She felt vulnerable, and exposed, and she hated it.

“You don’t… you feel something for me,” Benedict continued, his voice firm but filled with something tender, something raw. “When you saw me before, with Miss Strain, you felt something. You were jealous.”

Her head snapped back to him, her eyes wide with indignation. “Of course, I wasn’t!” she protested, though the words felt weak even to her own ears.

Benedict smiled then, that familiar crooked smile that always disarmed her.

“You were,” he said softly, his voice filled with a quiet certainty. “That’s why you interrupted us. You couldn’t stand to see me with someone else.”

Caterina’s mouth opened, but no words came out.

She wanted to deny it, to brush it off, but deep down, she knew he was right.

The jealousy that had clawed at her, the desperate need to pull him away from that other woman, it had been undeniable.

Caterina’s heart clenched painfully, her breath catching in her throat.

Benedict stepped forward again, his gaze intense, pleading. “Caterina, please. You don’t have to keep running. Just… let yourself feel this. Let yourself feel us.”

She shook her head, backing away even as every fiber of her being screamed at her to close the distance between them again.

“No,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I can’t. I won’t.”

Benedict’s shoulders slumped, and the anguish in his eyes nearly shattered her.

He opened his mouth to say something, but she didn’t let him.

She couldn’t bear to hear anymore.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Caterina could barely breathe as she stepped back, her mind racing, her pulse pounding in her ears.

She couldn’t do this.

She couldn’t be near him any longer, not when every second in his presence felt like it was unraveling her from the inside.

Her instincts kicked in, and without another word, she turned to run again, anything to escape the pull he had over her.

But this time, Benedict was faster.

Before she could make it to the door, he moved with a speed that left her no room to escape.

In a matter of seconds, he was in front of her, blocking her path, his broad form filling the space between her and the exit.

She froze, her back pressed against the door, her breath caught in her throat as he stood there, so close, too close, his eyes burning with a mix of frustration, longing, and something deeper that she was terrified to name.

“Stop running,” he said, his voice low but firm, barely controlled.

His chest rose and fell rapidly, his own emotions mirroring the tempest inside her.

Her eyes flicked to his, a storm of conflicting feelings crashing through her.

She tried to move, to sidestep him, but his hands came up, gently resting on either side of her, caging her in without touching her, leaving her nowhere to go.

The door was cold against her back, but Benedict was all heat, his presence overwhelming, consuming.

“Mr Bridgerton” she whispered, her voice cracking as she tried to hold onto her composure.

“No,” he cut her off, his voice soft but unyielding. “No more excuses, Caterina…”

Her heart raced, her chest tightening with panic, but also with something else, something she couldn’t deny any longer.

His eyes bore into hers, dark and intense, searching for any hint of the truth she was hiding behind the walls she’d built so carefully.

“You said it’s wrong,” he murmured, his voice a little gentler now, but there was an edge to it, a desperation that matched her own.

“You said you don’t want this, that we can’t - ” He shook his head slightly, his jaw clenching. “But you feel it, too. I see it in your eyes every time you look at me.”

Caterina’s breath hitched, her back pressed so tightly against the door she could feel the cool wood through the fabric of her dress.

She couldn’t move, couldn’t escape him. Not now.

And worse, she didn’t want to.

“You’re afraid,” he whispered, leaning in closer, his face inches from hers now, his breath warm against her skin. “You’re afraid of what this means, of what you feel for me.”

Her pulse raced wildly, her breathing uneven as his words sliced through her defenses like a knife.

He was right, and it terrified her.

She was afraid, afraid of how easily he made her lose control, how much she wanted him, how much she needed him.

His hand hovered by her face, not quite touching, as if he was giving her one last chance to push him away, to stop him.

“Tell me,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t feel the same way.”

She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

She tried, tried so hard to deny it, to push him away with cold indifference, but the truth was written all over her face.

Her silence was all the answer he needed.

In an instant, Benedict closed the remaining distance between them, his hands slipping to her waist as he pressed his body against hers, pinning her gently but firmly to the door.

She gasped, the heat of him overwhelming, the proximity setting her nerves alight.

His lips hovered over hers, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath, but he didn’t kiss her. Not yet.

“You can’t keep running from this,” he whispered, his voice a mix of frustration and tenderness. “I won’t let you.”

Caterina’s hands trembled as they came up to rest on his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as if anchoring herself to him despite every instinct telling her to pull away.

“I don’t like you,” she whispered, her voice shaking with the rawness of the lie.

Benedict’s lips quirked into a small, knowing smile, his eyes never leaving hers. “No, you don’t.”

Before she could respond, he closed the final gap between them, his lips capturing hers with a force that sent shockwaves through her entire being.

The kiss was hard, hungry, desperate like all the emotions they’d both been holding back had finally erupted in this single, intense moment.

Caterina melted against him, her hands sliding up to tangle in his hair as she kissed him back just as fiercely.

Every fear, every doubt, every wall she had built around her heart crumbled in that instant.

There was nothing but him, the taste of him, the feel of him, the way his body fit against hers like they had been made for each other.

Benedict groaned softly against her lips, his hands gripping her waist tighter as he deepened the kiss, pulling her even closer as if he couldn’t stand the thought of any space between them.

His body pressed against hers, pinning her firmly to the door, and she couldn’t help the soft gasp that escaped her lips as the intensity of his touch set her skin aflame.

His lips moved from hers, trailing down her jawline with heated urgency, before finding the sensitive skin of her neck.

He kissed her there, the warmth of his mouth sending shivers down her spine, before his teeth grazed her skin ever so slightly, drawing a sharp gasp from her.

She could feel the way her pulse quickened, and as his lips alternated between soft kisses and playful bites along her collarbone, her body betrayed her, arching toward him.

“Fucking hell, I have never kissed anything so beautiful,” he groaned against her skin before continuing to torture her neck again.

Her hands could only tangle in his hair, pushing him even harder against her.

Her breath ragged as his touch grew bolder and soft moans continued to come out from her mouth.

One of his hands slid from her waist, tracing the curve of her body until his fingers found the edge of her bodice.

Slowly, almost teasingly, his hand moved upward, brushing against the swell of her breast through the fabric, sending a jolt of electricity through her that made her breath hitch.

“Mr Brigerton,” she whispered, half a plea, half a surrender.

“No,” he said firmly, “Benedict, I want you to call me Benedict” he paused, and then Caterina opened her eyes, and looking at him she whispered “Benedict”.

He only answered with a growl almost primitive, his mouth finding hers again in a kiss that was all-consuming, fiery, desperate.

His other hand slid down her side, fingers grazing the soft fabric of her dress before slipping beneath it, finding the smooth skin of her thigh.

He gripped her gently at first, then with a possessiveness that made her legs weak, pulling her against him in a way that left no space between their bodies.

She gasped at the sudden strength with which he grabbed her thigh but the sensation of his hand on her bare skin, so close, so dangerously close, made her heart race and her head spin, making moaned her even more.

His touch, his breath, his presence overwhelmed her senses, and for a moment, she forgot everything, where they were, who they were, and the consequences of what they were doing.

The world outside ceased to exist; it was just them, lost in the heat of the moment, consumed by their undeniable desire for each other.

How much she would have wanted this moment to never end…

But then -

“Kitty!”

The voice was distant at first, like a faint echo in the back of her mind, barely penetrating the haze of passion that had enveloped her.

But it grew louder, more insistent.

“Kitty!”

Her sister’s voice.

Teresa.

Caterina froze.

Her body tensed in Benedict’s arms, the sound of her sister’s panicked call shattering the spell that had been cast between them.

She pulled back abruptly, her breath ragged, her heart racing for an entirely different reason now.

The reality of the situation crashed down on her like a cold wave, and suddenly, she was acutely aware of how dangerously close they were.

“Caterina!” Teresa’s voice rang out again, closer this time, filled with worry and rising urgency.

Benedict stiffened too, his hands still holding her as their gazes met.

The weight of what they had been doing, what they had almost let happen, hung between them like a heavy fog.

They both knew it was only a matter of time.

27 notes · View notes

thecrayonindisguise · 9 months ago

Text

PRIDE AND PREJUDICE (2005)

ELIZABETH BENNET

dir. joe wright

143 notes · View notes

thecrayonindisguise · 9 months ago

Text

Chapter 5 Breaking the Boundaries || Bonds and Barriers

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Original Female Character

Masterpost || << prev || next >>

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: no particular warnings, just a kiss and a little bit of a hot dream?! Idk I'm not very good with warnings...

Authors Note: Hey People! How are you?? I hope you're enjoying the story <3 so this chapter... I love to give existential crises to characters lol - anywayyy the kiss finally happened and the dream...omg Caterina what a naughty lady you are (you are just like us dw) sooo the infamous Bridgertons ball is coming and maybe it's the time for them to have a talk or to run away again?

Dearest gentle reader,

Once again, the grand doors of Aubrey Hall are set to open for what promises to be one of the most anticipated events of the season the ball of all balls, hosted by none other than the illustrious Bridgerton family. Aubrey Hall, with its sprawling estate and majestic grandeur, has long been a beacon of social gatherings. It is no wonder that all of the ton are abuzz with excitement for the upcoming soirée.

It is said that no family knows how to entertain quite like the Bridgertons, and this ball is expected to be no exception. Lavish decorations, sparkling chandeliers, and of course, the crème de la crème of society will be in attendance. But what truly sets this event apart is the air of unpredictability, because at an Aubrey Hall ball, anything can happen. Affairs of the heart are bound to unravel, scandals may be unveiled, and secrets have a curious way of slipping out amidst the swirl of silk gowns and the hum of music.

Will we witness a blossoming romance or perhaps a broken engagement? Will Lady Whistledown’s quill be graced with tales of scandal and intrigue, or will it be the harmonious unions of our finest couples that fill these pages?

One thing is for certain, dear reader, this ball is not one to be missed.

Yours truly,

Lady Whistledown

─────────

The morning sun had barely risen, casting a soft, amber glow over the sprawling grounds of Aubrey Hall.

Benedict Bridgerton found himself drawn outside, his usual routine disrupted by the restlessness that had plagued him for days.

The morning air was crisp, the sky tinged with soft hues of dawn, but he barely noticed the beauty of his surroundings.

He wasn’t the type to lose sleep over his thoughts, much less over a woman, but Caterina Medici had settled in his mind like a persistent melody, one he couldn’t shake, no matter how hard he tried.

His steps were slower than usual, his mind not on the familiar paths or the beauty of the estate but on her.

His thoughts were consumed by the events of the previous day, the way he had found her in his studio, the way she had looked at his paintings with such a mix of admiration and sorrow.

He thought of her in fragments: the curve of her brow as she studied his sketches, the vulnerability in her voice when she spoke of her father, the way she had quickly masked her emotions as if she regretted sharing them.

And yet, it was precisely that raw, unfiltered emotion that stirred something deep within him.

Everything seemed to circle back to her.

He had tried, truly tried, to forget her.

At dinner, she had avoided his gaze the entire time, and every subtle shift of her eyes away from him made him want to reach out, to ask her why.

Why she kept her distance now when all he wanted was to be close to her?

It was as if an invisible thread connected them, taut and unyielding, despite the silence.

The morning walk, usually a solace for him, wasn’t helping.

The trees overhead provided a comforting shade, and the soft breeze was cool against his skin, but none of it could distract him from the storm of emotions churning inside.

He felt unbalanced as if he were on unfamiliar ground. How had he allowed himself to fall so deeply for someone?

Benedict frowned, frustrated by his own helplessness.

It wasn’t like him to feel so out of control.

He was not accustomed to feeling like this, his heart and mind so entangled in another person.

He had always considered himself practical, grounded even.

His passions, whether for art or fleeting romances, had always been within his control.

He had always been carefree when it came to matters of the heart, never one to dwell too much on a fleeting attraction.

But Caterina… she unsettled him in a way he had never anticipated.

His steps took him farther from the house, into a secluded part of the estate where he often found peace.

The path wound down toward the lake, its serene waters reflecting the sky and the surrounding greenery.

But as he crested a small hill, his eyes were drawn not to the water, but to the figure sitting by its edge.

Caterina.

Benedict froze, his breath catching in his throat.

She sat there, on a wooden platform used for the little boats, near the lake, her back slightly hunched over as she sketched in a small notebook.

The delicate lines of her figure, bathed in the soft morning light, were enough to stop him in his tracks.

Her hair, cascaded down her back, moving gently in the breeze.

The sight of her, so focused, so absorbed in her work, sent a fresh wave of longing through him.

She hadn’t seen him yet, hadn’t noticed his presence as he stood just out of view, watching her with a mixture of awe and confusion.

What was it about her that affected him so deeply?

He had seen many beautiful women and had been charmed by his fair share of them, but none had ever unsettled him the way she did.

Seeing her now, her face so serene, her hand moving fluidly across the page, he felt a strange combination of calm and yearning.

Benedict took a step forward, his heart thudding louder in his chest as he debated whether to interrupt her or simply turn back the way he came.

─────────

Caterina had always cherished her morning routine.

It was the only time of the day when the world was quiet when she could gather her thoughts before the pressures of society, family, and propriety came crashing back in.

At Aubrey Hall, surrounded by the Bridgertons and the endless obligations of their social circle, the need for those moments of peace felt more pressing than ever.

She had woken early, long before the rest of the house stirred, the faint light of dawn creeping through the curtains.

For a moment, she stayed in bed, her mind wandering back to the day before, Benedict’s studio, his sketches, the way his eyes had lingered on her as if seeing something he hadn’t expected.

The memory sent a rush of warmth through her, one that she quickly dismissed.

It was too dangerous to dwell on such things.

Instead, she rose, slipping into a simple gown and quietly making her way outside before anyone else could catch her.

The air was cool against her skin, the scent of dew and fresh grass hanging in the air.

Her sketchbook tucked under her arm, she wandered through the gardens, the soft crunch of gravel beneath her shoes the only sound.

Caterina found herself drawn to a lake, its calm waters shimmering in the early light.

It had always been her favorite spot, a place to retreat when she needed to think.

She sat on the platform, the solitude soothing her.

The delicate ripple of the lake’s surface seemed to mirror her own thoughts, unsettled, yet quietly shifting, never still.

She opened her sketchbook, letting the familiar movements of her hand guide her pencil across the page.

Her subject was the lake, but her mind wandered back to Benedict.

She hadn’t been able to look at him during dinner the previous night, the embarrassment of what she had shared with him still lingering in her chest.

How easily he had unsettled her, how effortlessly he had stepped into her thoughts.

Caterina shook her head, trying to focus on the scene in front of her, the quiet beauty of the water, the delicate swaying of the trees along the shore.

But no matter how hard she tried, her hand seemed to slow, her focus waning.

It was no use.

Her mind was not on her drawing. It was on him…

The sound of approaching footsteps broke through her thoughts.

Without needing to look, she knew who it was.

“Drawing something inappropriate, Miss Medici?” The voice was teasing, with that familiar lilt of mischief she had heard before.

Benedict’s words hung in the air like a challenge, a call to continue their verbal sparring.

Caterina’s lips twitched into a smile as she looked up, her gaze meeting the twinkling blue eyes of Benedict Bridgerton.

He stood there, his posture relaxed yet watchful, his own sketchbook tucked under his arm as if it were an extension of himself.

“You again?” she responded, her voice light with amusement as she playfully narrowed her eyes. “Are you following me, Mr. Bridgerton?”

Benedict’s deep chuckle filled the air as he took a few leisurely steps closer, his long strides casual, though she could sense the energy beneath his movements.

“I could ask you the same question, considering this spot by the lake has been my retreat since I was a child.” His voice softened with nostalgia as his gaze drifted briefly over the landscape, but his attention quickly returned to her, lingering in a way that made her pulse quicken.

She closed her sketchbook with a swift motion, holding it protectively against her chest, a playful glint in her eyes.

“Something you don’t want me to see?” he asked, his eyebrow arched, the teasing in his voice as clear as the sunlight sparkling on the lake’s surface.

“Why so curious, Mr. Bridgerton?” Caterina shot back, the smoothness of her voice hiding the nerves that fluttered in her chest. “Can’t a woman have her secrets?”

She stood up, holding her sketchbook firmly under her arm as if daring him to try.

Benedict extended his hand to help her rise, but the moment her fingers brushed his, a wicked smile crept onto his face.

“I think it’s time to return the favor,” he said swiftly, and before she could react, he had already snatched the sketchbook from under her arm, flipping it open with an effortless motion.

“Mr. Bridgerton!” she gasped, spinning toward him in a mixture of surprise and indignation. “How dare you! Give that back to me right now!”

But Benedict, always one step ahead, had already begun leafing through the pages, his expression softening as he took in her drawings.

His gaze shifted, admiration flickering in his eyes as he saw the depth and detail in her work.

“These are really quite remarkable, Miss Medici. I expected nothing less from a woman like you.”

Her cheeks flushed a soft shade of pink, the mixture of flattery and frustration swirling in her chest.

“Mr. Bridgerton, it is entirely improper for a man to rifle through a lady’s personal belongings!”

Undeterred, he raised the sketchbook higher, out of her reach, his teasing grin widening as she reached up to grab it.

“Mr. Bridgerton!” she cried in frustration, swiping the air near his arm as he laughed.

Just as she finally managed to get a firm grip on the corner of the sketchbook, she pulled with a sudden burst of strength.

But Benedict’s grip was too strong, and instead of winning the battle, the force of their tugging caused her to lose her balance.

With a gasp, she stumbled backward, straight into the lake behind her.

“Miss Medici!” Benedict called out, half-amused, half-concerned, as the water splashed up around her.

But his smile quickly faded when she didn’t resurface immediately.

His heart pounded as the seconds dragged on, fear gripping him tighter with each passing moment.

“Caterina!” His voice rose in panic, his eyes scanning the water, looking for any sign of her.

When she finally broke the surface, sputtering and gasping, her wide eyes filled with mock panic.

“I— I—” she stammered, her hands flailing in the water. “I can’t swim!”

And then, with one last dramatic gasp, she slipped below the surface again.

Without hesitation, Benedict kicked off his boots and dove in after her.

The cold water hit him like a shock, but his mind was focused on one thing, reaching her, saving her.

His arms cut through the water, his heart racing with a mix of terror and urgency.

Just as his hand reached her waist, she broke the surface again, laughter spilling from her lips as she pushed her wet hair from her face.

“Oh, God!” she gasped between peals of laughter. “You really thought I couldn’t swim?”

Benedict froze, the realization dawning slowly.

She had tricked him.

For a long moment, he stared at her, torn between relief and disbelief.

Then, his shoulders shook with laughter, and soon, they were both laughing, the tension of the moment melting away in the ripples of the lake.

“You—” he began, shaking his head as he floated beside her, “you are a menace, Miss Medici.”

Caterina’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she drifted beside him.

“I couldn’t resist,” she admitted, her grin wide and unrepentant. “You looked so serious.”

But as their laughter faded, the playful atmosphere shifted into something deeper.

The space between them seemed to shrink, the air thickening with an unspoken connection.

The water, once lively with its movements, stilled around them as if the lake itself recognized the gravity of the moment.

Caterina’s breath came a little faster, her eyes locked with his.

Her arms moved, seemingly of their own accord, to rest gently on his shoulders, her fingers grazing his wet skin.

His hand, steady and warm, settled on her waist, brushing the fabric of her dress, which floated weightlessly in the water.

The sensation sent a shiver down her spine, but she made no move to pull away.

Their faces were so close now that she could feel the warmth of his breath mingling with hers, the space between them filled with an electrifying tension.

And then, without either of them fully realizing it, they kissed.

The first touch of their lips was soft, hesitant, as though testing the boundaries of this new and dangerous territory.

But the spark that ignited between them was undeniable.

They pulled back for just a moment, eyes meeting once more, and then they kissed again, this time with more urgency, more need.

Benedict’s hand moved up her thigh, sending a shiver through her.

Caterina moaned softly into his mouth, the sound muffled by the kiss as his touch grew bolder.

Her hand slid up to cup his face, holding him in place as they deepened the kiss, as though they had been waiting for this moment for years.

The world around them seemed to disappear, the lake and the trees fading into the background as the moment consumed them both.

But just as quickly as the passion flared, it flickered out.

A sudden wave of reality crashed over her, pulling her back to the surface.

No, her mind screamed. This isn’t right.

She pulled away abruptly, her breath ragged. “No,” she whispered, her voice breaking the stillness of the moment. “No, this is wrong.”

Without waiting for his response, she turned and swam swiftly toward the shore, her heart pounding in her chest.

She climbed out of the lake, her dress dripping water onto the grass as she grabbed her sketchbook from where it had fallen.

Without looking back, she bolted toward Aubrey Hall, leaving Benedict still floating in the water, his chest heaving as he struggled to process what had just happened.

The quiet ripples of the lake were the only answer to the questions swirling in his mind.

─────────

Caterina’s dress clung to her body, the fabric heavy and soaked as she slipped into the quiet halls of Aubrey Hall.

Her steps were hurried but light, not wanting to draw any attention, especially not after what had just transpired by the lake.

She barely noticed the few lingering servants, her mind racing with the flood of emotions from her encounter with Benedict.

Once inside her room, luckily without Teresa who is probably having breakfast downstairs, she closed the door behind her, leaning against it as if trying to hold back the rush of thoughts threatening to overwhelm her.

She stood still, breathing hard, her back pressed to the door as her fingers traced the damp fabric of her dress.

The lake water had chilled her skin, but the memory of Benedict’s touch still burned hot against her.

His hand on her waist, the feeling of his lips against hers, it had all been too much, too intense, too real.

Why had she let it happen? Why hadn’t she stopped it before it went too far?

Caterina exhaled sharply, pushing herself away from the door and moving to the mirror.

Her reflection stared back at her, disheveled and wet, a stark contrast to the composed woman she worked so hard to present.

She lifted a hand to her lips, still swollen from the kiss, and closed her eyes, trying to block out the feeling of Benedict’s mouth on hers.

But it was impossible.

Every touch, every glance, every breath they had shared in that moment lingered on her skin like a brand.

What had she done?

She had promised herself she wouldn’t let this happen.

She had been so careful, so determined to keep her distance, to protect herself from whatever feelings Benedict stirred in her.

But in that moment, by the lake, everything had unraveled.

The boundaries she had set for herself, the walls she had built around her heart, had crumbled in an instant the moment his lips met hers.

“No,” she whispered harshly to her reflection. “This shouldn’t happen.”

Her heart pounded in her chest as if protesting her mind’s attempts to shut down her feelings.

How could she let herself get so swept up in this? Benedict Bridgerton wasn’t just any man, he was everything she had tried to avoid.

She couldn’t afford to let her emotions lead her astray, not when she had fought so hard to maintain control.

She crossed the room, pacing in front of the bed, her thoughts swirling like a storm.

This wasn’t about just desire, it was more complicated than that.

Caterina sank onto the edge of the bed, her head in her hands.

What had she been thinking? Kissing him, allowing herself to be swept up in the moment, it had been a terrible mistake.

She had convinced herself she could control her emotions.

But Benedict had undone all of that in a single kiss.

Love, and passion, were luxuries she couldn’t afford.

But the way Benedict had looked at her, the tenderness in his eyes when he thought she was drowning, the way his touch had felt so right despite everything, how could she ignore that?

No.

She couldn’t let herself be swept up in this.

She had come to London for a reason, to secure a future for herself and Teresa.

Caterina’s breath hitched as she stood up again, her resolve hardening.

She had to stop this before it went any further.

She couldn’t let Benedict Bridgerton, with his charming smile and his warm hands, undo everything she had worked for.

She couldn’t allow herself to fall for him.

Because if she did…she knew how would end.

But even as she told herself this, a part of her, a small, traitorous part, longed for the warmth of his touch, the softness of his kiss.

And that, more than anything, terrified her.

─────────

Benedict floated on the surface of the lake, the cold water lapping against his skin, but it did nothing to cool the fire burning inside him.

His chest heaved with the weight of what had just happened, the rush of emotions swirling so fast he could barely make sense of them.

His lips still tingled from the kiss, the taste of Caterina lingering like a forbidden indulgence, something he shouldn’t have allowed but couldn’t have stopped.

She had kissed him back.

There had been no hesitation in the way her lips had met his, no reluctance when her fingers had curled, pulling him closer.

For that brief, electric moment, everything else had vanished.

The world had shrunk to just the two of them, no expectations, no propriety, just the undeniable connection between them.

But then, just as quickly, it was over.

She had pulled away, her expression shifting from passion to panic in the blink of an eye.

And now, she was gone, racing back toward Aubrey Hall without so much as a backward glance, leaving Benedict adrift in more ways than one.

He swam slowly to the shore, the weight of his soaked clothes pulling at him, matching the heaviness in his heart.

What had he done? He hadn’t meant for things to go so far, hadn’t intended for their banter to turn into something more, something dangerous.

But when she had looked at him, laughter still sparkling in her eyes, the teasing and the tension had given way to something far more intense, something he hadn’t been able to resist.

As he climbed out of the lake, his boots squelching in the mud, Benedict ran a hand through his wet hair, trying to clear his head.

What was it about Caterina Medici that made him feel so out of control?

She was unlike any woman he had ever met.

Sharp-tongued, fiercely independent, and yet, there was a softness to her, a vulnerability she tried to hide beneath her quick wit and stubborn resolve.

And he was drawn to it. Drawn to her.

He had known from the moment he saw her, standing in that ballroom with her chin held high and her eyes scanning the crowd like a woman ready to take on the world, that she would be trouble.

He had told himself he could keep his distance, that whatever spark flickered between them was nothing more than curiosity.

But it wasn’t.

Not anymore.

Benedict reached for his discarded sketchbook, its pages crinkling slightly from the moisture in the air, and sighed.

He had come to the lake to escape, to clear his mind, to get away from the whirlwind of obligations and expectations that seemed to follow him everywhere lately.

But instead, he had found her, again.

It was as if fate was determined to push them together, no matter how hard they tried to resist it.

And he had resisted.

He had tried to keep things light, to keep their interactions playful, and harmless.

But the truth was, every time he saw her, his defenses crumbled a little more.

She challenged him, infuriated him, but also drew him in like no one ever had before.

And that kiss, God, that kiss, had been everything he didn’t know he was craving.

But it wasn’t just desire.

That’s what scared him most.

It wasn’t just the thrill of the chase or the allure of the forbidden.

He cared about her.

At the moment when she had fallen into the lake when he thought she might actually be in danger, he had felt something deeper, something far more unsettling than mere attraction.

The thought of her being hurt, of something happening to her, had sent a surge of panic through him, unlike anything he had felt before.

And that terrified him.

Because he wasn’t supposed to care. Not like this. Not when he didn’t even know if she felt the same way, or if she even could.

Benedict’s jaw clenched as he began the walk back to Aubrey Hall, his steps heavy with uncertainty.

He knew there was more to Caterina’s story than what she let on.

The way she held herself, the guarded look in her eyes, it all spoke of someone who had been hurt before, someone who had learned to protect herself at all costs.

And yet, despite that, there had been moments, fleeting but unmistakable, where she had let him in.

Moments when the walls had come down, even if only for a second.

But she had run. After the kiss, she ran. And that told him everything he needed to know.

Whatever was between them, whatever this was…

It terrified her just as much as it terrified him.

─────────

The day had come to an end but Caterina stayed hidden in her bedroom all day, unable to face the outside world or, more specifically, Benedict Bridgerton.

She could barely do anything, her mind continuing spinning with what had happened, the kiss, the rush of passion, the way it had felt so right yet so dangerously wrong.

She couldn’t shake the image of his eyes, the warmth of his touch, the way her body had responded to him with a longing that frightened her.

The room was dim, the curtains drawn to keep out the last rays of sunlight.

Caterina sat by the window, staring out at the lush green lawns of Aubrey Hall, but her thoughts were far from the beauty of the landscape.

She hadn’t even touched her favorite tea, left on the small table near her bed by one of the maids earlier in the afternoon.

Her mind was too occupied with what had transpired, with the guilt, confusion, and undeniable desire that churned inside her.

She kept replaying the moment in her head, the feel of Benedict’s lips on hers, the electricity that had sparked between them.

It had been so sudden, so overwhelming.

And now, she felt the weight of it, the consequences of letting herself get swept up in her emotions.

There was a light knock on the door, pulling her from her thoughts.

“Kitty?” Teresa’s voice came from the other side, gentle yet filled with her usual energy. “Can I come in?”

Caterina hesitated for a moment before calling out, “Yes, come in.”

Teresa entered the room, her face bright with excitement, as usual.

She was already dressed in one of her light, cheerful night dresses, her eyes alight with the anticipation of the upcoming ball.

But when she saw Caterina sitting by the window, still in her nightgown, her expression faltered.

“Are you feeling alright?” Teresa asked, crossing the room to her sister’s side. “You’ve been in here all day. You didn’t come down for lunch or even for just a tea.”

Caterina forced a small smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m fine, Tess. Just a little tired, that’s all.”

Teresa frowned, clearly unconvinced. “Are you sure? The ball is tomorrow, and everyone’s been buzzing about it all day.”

Caterina sighed softly, turning her gaze back to the window. “I’ll be fine by tomorrow. I just need some rest today. It’s been... a lot.”

Teresa sat beside her, her brow furrowing with concern.

“Is it because of something that happened? You were acting strange after your walk by the lake of this morning...”

At the mention of the lake, Caterina’s heart clenched.

She shook her head quickly, unwilling to divulge what had truly transpired.

“No no, it’s nothing like that. I just feel a little under the weather, that’s all. I’ll be back to normal by tomorrow, I promise.”

Teresa studied her for a moment, sensing there was more going on than her sister was letting on.

But after a beat, she nodded, accepting the explanation.

“Alright,” she said softly, though her tone was still laced with concern. “But if you need anything, you’ll tell me, won’t you?”

Caterina gave her a reassuring smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Of course.”

Teresa stood, smoothing out her dress. “Well, I’m going down for dinner now. I’ll let them know you’re not feeling well.”

She hesitated, then added, “Lady Bridgerton might worry, especially since tomorrow is so important. Are you sure you don’t want to come down, even just for a little while?”

“No,” Caterina said firmly, though she softened her tone. “I just need some time alone, Tess. I’ll be fine, truly.”

With one last glance at her sister, Teresa nodded and made her way toward the door. “Alright. But I’m sending someone up with something later,” she said with a playful smile, trying to lighten the mood.

Caterina chuckled softly, nodding. “Thank you, Tess.”

As the door closed behind her sister, the room fell silent once more, leaving Caterina alone with her thoughts.

She leaned back against the window frame, closing her eyes.

─────────

Downstairs, the dining room was abuzz with conversation as the Bridgerton family and their guests gathered for the evening meal.

The air was filled with the sounds of laughter and lively chatter, but as Teresa took her seat, Lady Bridgerton couldn’t help but notice the absence of one of their guests.

“Where is Miss Caterina?” Violet asked, glancing toward the empty chair beside Lady Medici. “I hope she’s not unwell.”

Teresa smiled apologetically. “She’s feeling a bit under the weather, Lady Bridgerton. She said she needed to rest today, but she’ll be more than ready for tomorrow.”

Violet’s expression softened with concern. “Oh dear, I do hope it’s nothing serious. Tomorrow is such an important day, with the ton arriving and the ball in the evening.”

Lady Medici, seated near Violet, gave a reassuring smile. “Caterina will be fine. She just needs a day to herself. The excitement has been quite overwhelming, I believe.”

Violet nodded, though a hint of worry still lingered in her eyes. “Of course. Please let her know we’re thinking of her.”

Teresa’s words, however, didn’t go unnoticed by Benedict.

Seated further down the table, he had been unusually quiet throughout the meal, his mind drifting back to the lake, to the kiss they had shared, and to how abruptly she had pulled away.

Hearing that Caterina wasn’t feeling well-stirred something inside him, a mixture of guilt and concern.

Had she been avoiding him? Was she truly unwell, or was she just retreating from the intensity of their encounter?

He glanced down at his plate, his appetite fading as thoughts of her filled his mind.

He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the kiss, about how it had felt both thrilling and terrifying at the same time.

And now, the idea that she might be avoiding him, after everything they had shared, gnawed at him.

As the dinner conversation continued around him, Benedict found himself lost in thought, his mind consumed with questions about what would happen the next time they saw each other, and whether Caterina’s absence tonight had anything to do with him.

─────────

As the door creaked open, Caterina barely glanced up from where she sat on her bed, the book she had been pretending to read resting limply in her hands.

Her mind wasn’t on the words; in fact, she hadn’t turned a page in over half an hour.

Teresa slipped into the room, the soft rustle of her evening dress filling the space as she hummed quietly to herself.

She closed the door behind her and began undoing the delicate clasps of her gown, moving gracefully around the room as she prepared for bed.

“It was such a lovely dinner,” Teresa said with a bright smile, tossing a glance in Caterina’s direction.

“Lady Bridgerton and the duchess spoke so much about the ball tomorrow. I can hardly contain my excitement. You should have been there. Everyone was asking about you.”

Caterina forced a small smile, nodding mechanically. “I’m sure they were.”

She wasn’t lying, not exactly.

The guests had surely been curious about her absence.

But her thoughts were elsewhere, far away from the polished dining table and lively conversations downstairs.

Her mind kept circling back to the kiss.

Teresa’s voice floated on, the excitement evident as she spoke about tomorrow’s ball.

“The ton will start arriving early in the morning, and by the evening, the house will be filled with people. Lady Bridgerton mentioned something about a grand opening dance! Oh, Kitty, can you imagine it? The musicians, the gowns, the—”

Her words blurred together, fading into the background like a distant melody as Caterina’s thoughts drifted.

She nodded when it seemed appropriate, muttering a faint “mhmm” as Teresa spoke, but her mind was trapped in a whirlwind of emotions that refused to settle.

She could still feel the cool water against her skin, the sound of Benedict’s laugh echoing in her ears, the way her heart had raced when their kiss deepened.

It had been reckless, intoxicating, completely wrong, and yet, part of her ached for it again.

She tried to listen to Teresa, to focus on the details of the ball, but all she could think about was how she had run from him.

How she had left him in the lake, stunned and confused, while she fled back to the safety of her room.

Would he say something tomorrow? Would he bring up the kiss, or would he pretend it hadn’t happened at all?

“Kitty?” Teresa’s voice broke through her daze, and Caterina blinked, realizing that her sister had been watching her with curious eyes. “Are you even listening?”

“I am,” Caterina replied quickly, though her voice lacked conviction.

She set the book aside and leaned back against the pillows, trying to steady the chaotic rhythm of her heart.

Teresa gave her a gentle smile, though concern flickered in her gaze. “You’re distracted. What’s on your mind?”

Caterina hesitated, her hand instinctively lifting to brush her lips as if they still burned.

She shook her head, forcing a more convincing smile. “Nothing. I’m just really tired, that’s all. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

Teresa nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer, and continued preparing for bed.

She spoke animatedly about the guests who would attend, the gentlemen who would be vying for attention, and the beautiful decorations that were already being arranged.

But Caterina barely registered the words.

The night had grown quiet by the time Teresa finally slipped into bed, her soft breathing soon filling the room as sleep claimed her.

But Caterina couldn’t sleep. Not yet.

She lay awake, staring at the canopy above her bed, the events of the day playing over and over in her mind like a vivid dream she couldn’t escape.

The dream came in fragments, a slow-burning haze of sensations that blurred the lines between reality and fantasy.

She was back at the lake, the water still and glassy beneath the moonlight.

But this time, there was no fear, no hesitancy.

Her heart was light, her body drawn toward Benedict like a moth to a flame.

He was there, waiting for her, standing by the lake as if he had been expecting her.

The same teasing smile played at the corners of his lips, but his eyes… his eyes were darker, filled with something deeper, something primal that made her breath catch in her throat.

Caterina stepped toward him, the water lapping gently at her ankles, her calves, until she closed the distance between them.

When she reached him, Benedict didn’t hesitate.

His hands slid around her waist, pulling her against him, the warmth of his body contrasting with the coolness of the water.

His lips found hers in an instant, the kiss urgent and needy, as though he had been starving for this.

Her hands tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, her body arching against him as the kiss deepened.

His tongue teased hers, sending a jolt of heat through her core, a sensation so strong it left her dizzy.

Benedict’s hands roamed her body, slipping under the fabric of her dress to find the soft skin beneath.

She gasped against his mouth, her pulse quickening as his touch grew bolder.

His fingers trailed along the curve of her waist, then up to her breasts, caressing her with an intensity that left her trembling.

The weight of his hands, the press of his body against hers, it all felt too real, too consuming.

But she didn’t pull away.

She leaned into it, her own hands exploring the planes of his chest, the hard muscles beneath his skin, the way his breath hitched as she touched him.

A soft moan escaped her lips as his mouth moved to her neck, his teeth grazing her sensitive skin, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her.

“Caterina,” he whispered against her throat, his voice rough with desire.

The sound of her name on his lips only heightened the tension coiling inside her.

She wanted him.

She had never wanted anything or anyone as much as she wanted Benedict Bridgerton at that moment.

But just as the heat of their embrace built to an almost unbearable crescendo, the dream shifted.

The idyllic lake, the moonlight, the passion, it all began to fade, replaced by a cold emptiness that gripped her chest.

Caterina woke with a start, her heart pounding wildly in her chest, her skin flushed from the vividness of the dream.

She sat up in bed, her breath ragged as she tried to shake off the lingering sensations.

The kiss, the touch, the way Benedict had felt so real…

She pressed a hand to her forehead, trying to calm the storm raging inside her.

What was happening to her? She had spent years building walls, protecting herself from feeling too much, from getting too close, and yet, Benedict Bridgerton was undoing her, piece by piece.

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