Benedict Bridgerton
A Bridgerton in Distress
Part 1 - A Scandalous Return
Authors note/summary: The slow burn is burning my friends. Benedict’s self control is hanging by a thread. Y/n is (as always) a menace, and Eloise remains the unappreciated voice of reason. We are building up for them stolen moments, more chaos, and a certain Viscountess’s very determined matchmaking. As always, thanks for reading,may your patience be stronger than Benedict’s self-control. 💀
Warnings: None for this chapter! But I always advise 18+
word count: 3.7K
Dearest Gentle Readers.
The ton was sent into a delightful uproar last evening with the sudden reappearance of a certain young lady whose absence had been deeply lamented or, depending on whom you ask, deeply celebrated. Miss Y/n Harrington, freshly returned from France, has graced London with her presence once more, and one can only imagine the havoc she shall wreak upon this season’s unsuspecting gentlemen. Rumors abound regarding Miss Harrington’s time abroad, with improved manners and French refinement. With Fencing instructors, who tried to get a little too close. Will her polished exterior fool anyone.
Tonight, all eyes shall be fixed upon Miss Harrington at Lady Danbury’s illustrious ball, we shall see if Miss Harrington intends to charm society… or dismantle it. will she,heaven forbid,outshine the Queen’s latest diamond?
Yours truly,Lady Whistledown.
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Y/N’s Bedchamber – Before the Ball
The air in Y/n’s bedchamber was thick with the scent of rosewater and anticipation as she stood before her vanity, clad in nothing but her delicate lace trimmed chemise and corset.
“Honestly, Pen,” Y/n sighed, eyeing her reflection as she tightened the ribbons of her stays, “was the fencing instructor bit entirely necessary? my father reads this”
Penelope Featherington, now Bridgerton. The Lady Whistledown herself,perched on the edge of Y/n’s bed. “Oh, come now,” she said, lips twitching.
“I had to give them something to chew on,” Penelope said airily. “Besides, you did mention the Comte de Whatever His Name Was tried to adjust your stance rather… enthusiastically”
Eloise cackled into her biscuit.
“And yet,” Y/n huffed, twisting to examine the dip of her corset in the mirror, “somehow I’m the one about to be interrogated by every matron in London.Are you trying to ruin me even before the season begins?” Y/n protested, tossing a hairpin at her.
Eloise, lounging across the chaise with a stolen biscuit, grinned. “Admit it,you love the attention.”
Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress her smirk. Y/n turns sharply as her maid finally laces her into the burgandy silk gown, the neckline daringly low by London standards. She smirks as Eloise chokes on her biscuit.
“Oh, don't look so scandalized, Eloise. This is mild compared to Paris." She adjusts a curl artfully over one shoulder. "Besides, if I’m going to be Whistledown’s latest fascination, I might as well give the ton something to truly gasp about." aiming her glance at Penelope.
Penelope was Fanning herself dramatically. “I do hope you’ll save a few eligible gentlemen for the other ladies" and then whispered to no one but herself. "Though I suppose a certain someone is already hopelessly doomed."
A knock at the door interrupts them.
Anthony’s voice.Muffled through the wood. “For God’s sake, are you three done? The carriage is waiting!"
"Patience Brother” Eloise shouts with laughter as Penelope hides her grin behind her fan. Y/n gives herself one last glance in the mirror,lips stained dark, eyes gleaming with mischief. Tonight, the game begins.
Lady Danbury’s Ball – The Grand Arrival
The Bridgerton carriage rolled through Mayfair, the rhythmic clatter of hooves muffled by the excited chatter inside. Eloise leaned out the window, ignoring Anthony’s muttered warnings,while Penelope smoothed her gloves with quiet amusement, in arms with Colin.
“Ready to send the ton into hysterics?” Colin teased.
Y/n adjusted the silk draping of her skirts, the deep burgundy fabric whispering against her legs. “Darling Colin,” she purred, “I haven’t even begun”
---
Inside the Ballroom Candlelight flickered against gilded mirrors as the quartet entered, heads turning instantly. Whispers rippled through the crowd. Lady Harrington,France, scandalous neckline. But Y/n merely lifted her chin, her smile sharp as a blade. Eloise nudged her. “Ten o’clock. Lady Cowper looks like she swallowed a lemon.”
Penelope hid her laugh behind her fan. Y/n followed her gaze, locking onto Lady Cowper’s haughty face. Indeed, her expression was distinctly sour,as if someone had served her lemon curd instead of clotted cream with her tea. Somewhere between Lady Cowper’s scandalized glare and Lord Fife’s poorly concealed leer, the ballroom doors swung open again and there he was. Benedict Bridgerton, fashionably late and decidedly underdressed for a man who usually cared little for such things. His cravat was slightly loosened, his waistcoat undone, as if he’d dressed in a hurry or, more likely, had been thoroughly distracted.
Benedict POV
Then he saw her. Y/n, bathed in candlelight, her gown clinging to every curve, the scandalous dip of her neckline drawing every eye in the room. His breath hitched. His fingers twitched at his sides. His cravat suddenly felt far too tight. Eloise, catching sight of her brother’s frozen expression, smirked into her champagne. “Ah. There he is. Late, as usual.”
Penelope followed her gaze and barely stifled a giggle. “He looks like he’s been struck by lightning.”
Across the room, Benedict managed to snap his jaw shut only for his mother to materialize at his elbow with a knowing hum.
“Benedict,” his mother said pleasantly, “how lovely of you to finally join us.”
His eyes never left Y/n. “I…”His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “I was... detained.”
His Mother arched a brow. “By what or whom, precisely?”
Benedict ignored her, his gaze tracking Y/N as she accepted Lord Rutledge’s hand for a dance, her laugh ringing bright over the music. His fingers curled into fists. Violet's gaze flickered between her son and the crowded dancefloor, noting the rigid set of Benedict’s shoulders and the glint in his eye.
"Benedict," His mother began delicately, "Are you quite alright? You appear... distracted"
Benedict forced a tight smile, tearing his gaze away from the dancefloor. "Distracted? I'm fine, Mother. Never better."
"Mmm," she hummed doubtfully. He could feel the weight of his mother’s eyes, scrutinizing, assessing. Normally, he would have made some jest, deflecting her concern with a smirk and a clever comment.
"Just...a lot on my mind," he muttered, his gaze drawn back to Y/n as she twirled across the floor, her laugh bright with genuine joy.
His mother laid a gentle hand on his arm. "Benedict, you know you can talk to me, don't you?"
Benedict didn’t respond,couldn’t. His entire focus was locked on the way Y/n’s gown shimmered under the chandeliers, how her fingers rested just so on Lord Rutledge’s shoulder, how her lips curved in that maddening, knowing smile. Eloise sidled up beside him, following his line of sight. “Oh dear,” she mused, sipping her drink. “That’s quite the expression you’re wearing.”
Benedict barely glanced at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Eloise snorted. “You look like someone just stabbed you with a fork.”
Across the room, Y/n threw her head back at something Rutledge said, the column of her throat exposed, the candlelight catching on the delicate hollow of her collarbone. Benedict’s jaw ticked. Penelope, ever observant, leaned in. “Is that the man that dueled that Italian count over a lady last year…”
Eloise grinned. “oh yess it is pen...Perhaps history will repeat itself.”
Benedict shot them both a glare before abruptly turning on his heel,only to nearly collide with Lady Danbury herself.
“Ah, Mr. Bridgerton!” she crowed, tapping her cane.
Lady Danbury’s cane thumped against the marble floor as she arched a knowing brow at Benedict. “Finally gracing us with your presence? Have you finally developed a taste for society?”. Benedict forced a charming grin, though his gaze kept flickering over her shoulder,where Y/n was now smiling up at Rutledge as if he’d just recited Shakespeare instead of whatever drivel he’d surely muttered.
“Apologies, Lady Danbury, society will have to wait for the day I develop a taste for it,” Benedict said smoothly. “But maybe i was… inspired this evening”
Danbury followed his line of sight and let out a dry chuckle. “Inspired, hm? How artistic of you.” Benedict barely registered her sarcasm. Across the room, Rutledge’s hand slid lower on Y/n’s back. Too low.His fingers twitched at his side. Eloise, was then beside him again like a vengeful shadow, whispered, “If you combust from sheer irritation, Mother will be most disappointed.”
Benedict ignored her. The waltz was ending. Which meant Rutledge would lead Y/n off the floor. Which meant he’d speak to her. Which meant…
“Excuse me.” he eyed Eloise with a raised eyebrow. He didn’t wait for a reply before striding forward, cutting through the crowd like a blade. Y/n turned just as he reached her, eyes widening,not in surprise, but in amusement.
“Benedict,” she purred surprisingly. “you have finally graced the room with your presence”
His smile was all teeth. “I couldn’t let you suffer Rutledge’s conversation any longer.”
Lord Rutledge stiffened. “I beg your pardon….”
“No need,” Benedict interrupted smoothly, offering his hand to Y/n. “I’m stealing her.” And before anyone could protest, he pulled her into the next dance. The orchestra swelled, strings sighing into a new waltz as Benedict spun Y/n into the center of the floor. Her fingers tightened on his shoulder. “You’re impossible...I’ll have you know I was quite enjoying his company”
His grip on her waist was firm. “And yet, here you are.” The room fell away as Benedict led Y/n around the floor, their steps falling into a familiar rhythm.
Y/n smirked up at him, her eyes gleaming. “I must say, this is a far cry from your usual habit of avoiding dances like the plague”
Benedict resisted the urge to tug her closer, his gaze dropping to her lips. “Yes, well, I have changed quite a bit these last years. besides I couldn’t let you dance with every single minded fool here.”
Her laughter echoed in his ears,sweet and slightly mocking. “Is that your polite way of calling me naive?”
Benedict exhaled sharply through his nose, tightening his grip just slightly as he guided her into a turn. "Naive? Never. Reckless? Absolutely." The corner of Y/n’s mouth twitched as she leaned in slightly, close enough that the scent of jasmine and something distinctly her curled around him. “Tell me, Benedict,” she murmured, “how long do we have to pretend to be respectable before we can sneak off to the terrace like old times?”
His pulse jumped, but he kept his voice dry. “You’ve been back less than a day and you’re already plotting your escape. Some things never change.”
She grinned, unrepentant. “And yet here you are, indulging me. Some things never change indeed.” The music swelled, forcing them closer for a spin. Benedict’s thumb brushed the dip of her waist through the silk, a fleeting touch that shouldn’t have seared like brandy.
“It’s good to have you back,” he admitted with a smile.
Y/n smile then became softer. “It’s good to be back.”
Benedict’s gaze softened, his heart twisting. Gods, he missed this. Her. Their easy banter, the way she never treated him like anything less than who he was. The music ended. Benedict reluctantly dropped his hands from her waist. Benedict exhaled, flexing his fingers at his sides as they stepped apart,too soon, always too soon. Around them, the crowd erupted into polite applause for the musicians while couples began rearranging themselves for the next set. Y/n arched a brow at him, smoothing her skirts with deliberate slowness. "Well? Aren't you going to ask me for another dance, or have you suddenly remembered your alleged distaste for society events?"
His lips quirked. Damn her.
"One dance was already enough," he drawled, watching with satisfaction as her eyes narrowed. "Two would send Lady Whistledown into raptures."
"Ah," Y/n sighed, tapping her fan against his chest, "but think of the material you'd give poor Penelope. She does need to keep her column interesting."
"Mm." Benedict caught her wrist before she could pull away, thumb pressing against her pulse point. "And what," he murmured, leaning in just enough to make her breath hitch, "exactly would Whistledown write about us?"
Y/n's smile turned razor-sharp. "Oh, I don't know....Mr. Bridgerton, previously allergic to matrimony, found glued to Miss Harrington's side like a lovesick….”
"Oh you better Run”
She laughed, bright and unrepentant, slipping from his grasp as the next dance began,but not before tossing over her shoulder "so.. the terrace then?”
Benedict clenched his jaw as she sauntered into the crowd, trying desperately to will away the heat creeping up his neck. Damn that woman and her knack for pushing his buttons. But, a part of him whispered for it. You enjoy it. He always did. Benedict sighed, raking a hand through his hair. Following her towards the terrace. The truth was,he never pretended he didn’t enjoy her flirtations. She knew he did hell, she enjoyed toying with him,but something always stopped him from crossing that line into something more.
The air was still cool, the sky a pale shade of blue as dusk set in. Benedict ran a hand across the back of his neck, breathing in the scent of fresh air and the faint trace of Y/n's jasmine perfume that seemed to follow her everywhere. The sound of the ball was nothing but a distant hum from here, muffled by the ivy covered terrace walls that shielded them from prying eyes. Benedict leaned against the stone balustrade, crossing his arms over his chests.
Y/n joined him, resting her chin on her palm as she peered over the railing into the garden below. Benedict watched her, noting the way her gown clung to every curve,the soft curve of her lips, the way her hair curled softly,as if begging for him to touch it…. Benedict gritted his teeth, tearing his gaze away. "Ughh" he sighed. "you know how much I detest these things”
Y/n glanced over her shoulder, her lips curving into that familiar, teasing smile before she turned fully and leaned back against the terrace railing, crossing her arms. The silk of her gown whispered against the stone as she tilted her head.
"So," she said, mischief glinting in her eyes, "just how bad has your mother been at playing matchmaker since I’ve been away?" she knew already, you’d wrote to each other over the years. Benedict groaned, rubbing his temple. "Relentless. I swear, she’s curated a list of every eligible young woman in London and half of Scotland, for good measure."
Y/n laughed, the sound bright and unguarded. "Oh, come now. Surely there’s been at least one diamond you’ve fancied?"
Benedict shot her a dry look. "You know me better than that... my mother called me a Rake remember”
She hummed, studying him with an intensity that made his skin prickle. Benedict smirked, resting his elbows on the balustrade. "somehow, you seem entirely unsurprised by that."
Y/n's lips quirked. "Because I know you, Benedict. And I know that beneath all that roguish charm... That so called rakish front, you're a gentleman, through and through."
A bark of laughter escaped him,sharp, disbelieving. Gentleman. Yes his mother and father raised all of the brothers to be that way. But If only she knew the thoughts that had just raced through his mind. The way his fingers itched to undo every last lace on that damned gown. He shifted, forcing his tone into something lighter. “Ah, yes. My tragic flaw,too honorable for my own good.”
Y/n rolled her eyes, pushing off the railing to stand toe to toe with him. The scent of her jasmine and something faintly citrus wrapped around him like a noose. “Although, I’ve seen you charm your way out of a duel, flirt with a vicar’s wife and steal the last biscuit from Gregory without a shred of remorse.”
His grin turned wolfish. “And yet, here you are. Still willing to sneak onto terraces with me.”
A pause. The air between them crackled. Then Y/n flicked his cravat, her smirk returning full force. “Terrible influence, remember?”
Benedict’s pulse stuttered. She wasn’t wrong. Benedict chuckled, the sound low and warm, as he reached out to catch her hand. He traced his thumb over the delicate skin of her wrist, feeling the faint flutter of her own pulse.
"Yes, the ever present thorn in my side, tempting even the most honourable of gentlemen with your defiant charm." Y/n raised an arrogant brow, not bothering to pull back her hand.
Y/n scoffed, but her fingers curled ever so slightly against his. “Defiant charm? Please. If anything, you corrupt me.”
Benedict leaned in, just enough to watch her breath hitch. “Prove it.” Her eyes narrowed, but before she could retort, the sharp click of heels on stone shattered the moment. Eloise’s voice, dry as parchment, cut through the night
“I thought I’d find you two here”
Y/n jerked back just a little,cheeks a little flushed. Benedict barely suppressed a growl. Eloise ignored them both, plucking a lemon tart from the tray in her hands. “Mother’s looking for you. Something about Lord Herrons very eligible sister.”
Benedict groaned, tilting his head back. Y/n straightened her skirts, her smirk returning with vengeance. “Duty calls you”
Benedict ran a hand over his face, cursing under his breath. Duty never sounded so unappealing. Eloise raised her brows, taking a bite of the tart. "Oh, don't look so enthused," she droned. "It's not like you have to marry her. Just a little flirting. A smile or two to appease mother” With a rough exhale, he pushed off the railing.
"Easy for you to say," he muttered. "You're not the one getting shoved at eligible young ladies like a prize sheep."
Eloise rolled her eyes, dusting crumbs from her fingers. Although Mother did just that until she claimed she was on the shelf this season. "Poor you, forced to endure the attention of beautiful ladies. Your life is truly terrible."
He shot his sister a glare. "I'm glad you find my misery entertaining."
She grinned. "Oh, I live for your dramatic sighs and brooding looks. Truly, it's the highlight of my evening." Y/n laughed, tucking her arm through Eloise’s as they started back toward the ballroom. “Come along you Bridgertons,”she tossed over her shoulder, her eyes glinting with mischief. “The sooner you charm Lord Herron’s sister, the sooner we can plot our next escape.”
Benedict exhaled sharply through his nose, but followed nonetheless, the ghost of her touch still burning against his skin. Lord Herron’s voice then cut through the chatter as they reentered. “Ah, Mr. Bridgerton! my sister has been looking for you, where have you been hiding?”
Benedict forced a charming smile. “I was Merely admiring Lady Danbury’s impeccable taste in terrace landscaping”
Y/n muffled a laugh behind her fan. Eloise leaned in, whispering, “Five minutes. Then we rescue you.”
Benedict shot her a grateful look,only for it to die when she added, “Maybe.”
Benedict's smile tightened into something dangerously pleasant as he turned toward Lord Herron. "And where might your delightful sister be hiding this evening?"
Lord Herron puffed up like a pleased peacock. "Ah! Miss Herron is just over by the refreshments,do allow me to introduce you!"
Benedict resisted the urge to glance back at Y/n,who was now whispering something scandalous into Eloise’s ear, judging by the way his sister’s eyes widened and allowed himself to be led away. This,he thought grimly, is going to be a long night.
Y/N POV
Meanwhile, Y/n watched Benedict’s retreating back with a smirk, fan fluttering lazily. Though the though of him swooning other women was a foul taste she just couldn't swallow.
Eloise elbowed her. "Stop looking like the cat who got the cream."
Y/n sighed dramatically, erasing those thoughts. "And deprive myself of the joy of watching him suffer? Never."
The two of them dissolved into laughter just as Benedict shot them a murderous glare from across the room, trapped in what appeared to be an extremely enthusiastic conversation with Miss Herron. Y/n raised her glass in a silent toast. This season was going to be delicious.
The Carriage Ride Home
The carriage swayed gently as it rolled through the darkened streets of Mayfair, the rhythmic clatter of hooves blending with Eloise’s poorly suppressed laughter. Y/n lounged across the plush seat, her skirts pooling around her as she studied Benedict with undisguised amusement. He was slumped against the opposite bench, cravat loosened, arms crossed, and looking thoroughly disgruntled.
“Tell me, Benedict,” she mused, tapping her fan against her palm. “Did Miss Herron at least attempt to discuss something other than her brother?”
Eloise snorted into her glove. “Oh, it was far worse than that. wasn’t it Benedict?”Benedict groaned, tilting his head back against the carriage wall.
“stoppp” he groaned “ I nearly threw myself out the window.”
“A shame you didn’t,” Eloise sighed wistfully. “It would’ve been the most exciting thing to happen at a ball all season.”
Y/n grinned, nudging Benedict’s boot with her shoe. “Cheer up Benedict”. Benedict cracked one eye open. The carriage slowed to a stop outside Bridgerton House, and Benedict practically launched himself out the door before it had fully halted.
“Coward!” Eloise called after him. Y/n watched him go, shaking her head as she gathered her skirts to step down.
Eloise stumbled after her, still giggling. "I think we might have bruised his ego."
Y/n rolled her eyes. "He'll survive. Besides, he deserves it, it's only fair he endures a few moments of torture every now and then." They crossed the quiet street toward their neighboring houses, the lights of Bridgerton and Harrington House spilling through the windows. Eloise sighed dramatically as she climbed the steps to Bridgerton House. "Well, that's my entertainment for the evening concluded. Though I do hope you'll regale me with more scandalous Parisian tales tomorrow."
Y/n curtsied playfully. "Of course," Y/n smirked. "I'll make sure to save all the most outrageous anecdotes for you."
Eloise's eyes widened, a delighted grin spreading across her face. "You are going to tell me every detail, do you hear me? Every little detail."
Y/n laughed. "I promise, not a single extravagant adventure will go unshared." She looked up at the tall windows of Bridgerton House,spying a flicker of movement in the shadows. Benedict must have ran so fast to his room. Y/n grinned mischievously before cupping her hands around her mouth and calling up, "Goodnight, Benedict!"
For a moment,nothing. Then the window creaked open, and there he was, leaning against the sill with that familiar lazy smirk. Moonlight caught the edge of his jaw, the amused tilt of his mouth.
"Goodnight, trouble," he drawled, his voice carrying easily through the quiet street. His gaze lingered as she backed toward her own house, adding, "Try not to scandalize the footmen on your way home”
Eloise cackled from the doorway.
Y/n pressed a hand to her chest in mock offense. "Me? Scandalize anyone? Never."
Benedict's chuckle drifted down as she turned, skirts swirling, and made her way up the steps of Harrington House,his eyes following every step until her silhouette disappeared inside. The night settled around them, thick with promise. Tomorrow would be even more entertaining.
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