...I edited this cap. But I would love a fic from you about the heart eyes this man is giving. He's so besotted. Jeez. Thanks!
The candlelight was unfair.
Sophie decided that at once.
It softened everything, the sharp lines of the room, the worn edges of borrowed silk, even the uncertainty that still lingered at the edges of her new life. It turned the world into something gentler, something almost dreamlike.
And it made Benedict look at her like that.
“Stop,” she murmured, though she did not move away.
“I’ve done nothing,” he replied, far too innocently.
“You’re doing it now.”
His lips curved, but he didn’t deny it. If anything, his gaze only deepened, warm, intent, utterly unguarded. As though there were no society to answer to, no expectations waiting beyond the door. Only her.
Only Sophie.
“I cannot seem to help myself,” he said quietly. “I have just realised, quite inconveniently, that I am actually going to marry you.”
She huffed a soft laugh, though her cheeks warmed. “You have known that for some time. You asked me…”
“Yes, but I had not yet appreciated the full consequence of it.”
“And what consequence is that, Mr Bridgerton?” She asked trying not to panic.
He leaned closer then, close enough that his voice dropped into something softer, something meant only for her.
“That I shall spend the rest of my life looking at you and thinking, how did I come to be so fortunate?”
Sophie’s breath caught, just slightly. It still startled her, how easily he said such things. How simply he offered them, as though they were facts rather than feelings.
“You exaggerate,” she whispered.
“Never about you.”
His hand lifted, hesitant only for a moment before brushing a loose strand of hair back from her face. The touch was light, reverent, like he was still learning the shape of her, still marvelling that he was allowed.
And there it was again.
That look.
Soft. Entirely too fond. A little bit awed.
“Benedict,” she said, almost a warning.
“Yes my love?”
“You are doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
She swallowed, unable to quite meet his eyes now. “Looking at me as though I am… something extraordinary.”
His answer came without pause.
“You are.”
The simplicity of it undid her far more than any grand declaration could have.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The quiet settled around them, warm and close, like the glow of the candles themselves.
Then Benedict smiled, slow, helpless, completely besotted and, despite herself, Sophie smiled back.
Unfair, she thought again.
But perhaps… not altogether unwelcome.
