I want it on the record that THIS was his face when he was out in public for the first time with the love of his life.
Mr. Benedict "I can't stand society functions" Bridgerton is in the middle of the dance floor, smiling down at Miss Sophie Beak Gun like she hung the sun and moon.
What do Edmund and Sophie talk about, if they ever had an opportunity to talk?
"Ah. Sophie. Good."
She slips into the study and stands by the door. "You wanted to see me, Lord Bridgerton?"
"Please, we are to be family soon enough, you must call me Edmund," he encourages, getting to his feet. "Here. Let us to the drawing room for a chat."
He leads her from the study and into the drawing room, where tea is already waiting.
"Please, take a seat," he tells her, before handing her a cup, already poured. "Thank you for meeting with me."
"Of course," Sophie says, watching him take his own tea and sit across from her in one of the chair.
He takes a sip. "I am endlessly grateful that you decided to be patient and wait for the approval to marry Benedict. Not just because I want nothing more than to hustle him out of my house, but because he would have been most heartbroken had you decided on someone else."
Sophie smiles a little. "There could never be anyone else."
Edmund grins. "That is nice to hear. My wife would have so loved to see her children find love matches. As ours was." He clears his throat. "Benedict is quite a lot like his mother. Rebellious in spirit, but very loving. Very giving."
"Oh, I know," Sophie nods, smiling a little more.
"He is...can be...easy to take advantage of," Edmund tells her. "I am trusting you not to, and trusting you to make certain others do not. As much as he is determined to protect you, I hope you will want to protect him as well."
"I do," Sophie assures him. "You are right. He is very giving. I have watched him be almost too giving sometimes."
"Yes," Edmund agrees. "I do hope you know, Sophie, that I am very happy for you to join our brood. Family. Whatever you'd like to call us. As you have observed over the years, we do not have an overabundance of sense, so the addition of yours could make a big difference. Specifically for the next generation. I fear it is too late for the current crop."
She laughs a little, which was his intention. "I shall certainly try my best." He pauses for a moment. "I know my family is not...well. We are not as well-liked as the Bridgertons. We do not offer as much."
"Well, your stepmother is a bit too sour for my taste," Edmund admits. "And your father's inability to stand up to her is certainly not thrilling. But you have always been a kind girl, and Violet suspected when you were children that maybe there could be something there. It is a nice reminder of how she was so often right."
Sophie smiles again, kindly. "I do not wish for our wedding to be a bother to you, what with all that has transpired with Anthony's...attempted nuptials. I am more than happy with a small ceremony. Quiet."
"Nonsense!" Edmund cries. "I'll not hear of it. You and Benedict deserve a lovely wedding. Something a little lavish to celebrate the end of your long wait."
"But-"
"Anthony will have his own wedding, in his own time," Edmund tells her. "But right now, I should very much like to hear what you would like your wedding to be. And we shall work on making it come to life."
Sophie looks a little surprised, but nods, sipping her tea, and they chat.
Hi! I’m new here. Would you ever consider writing Franchaela?
Hi! Welcome! I have a tiny bit of Franchaela: Eloise, Francesca and Michaela visit Benedict and Sophie and their new baby at My Cottage
Here's a little more:
Meals are incredibly informal.
Yes, they all sit around a table together, but Charlie is settled in a little basket on a chair between Sophie and Benedict. No one dresses for dinner. They chat about what’s been going on in town.
“Cressida hosted another ball,” Eloise tells them. “It was pinker than the last one.”
“How is that even possible?” Benedict asks, laughing a little.
“I do not know, but she managed it,” Eloise says. “Mm. Mrs. Crabtree really is a wonderful cook.”
“We are quite lucky she and Mr. Crabtree put up with us,” Sophie smiles. “I have been told many, many times that I am not very good at acting like a lady.”
“We did not marry just for Mrs. Crabtree to march us around about propriety,” Benedict comments. “I do adore the woman, but this is where we get to be ourselves, without having to worry about what society thinks of us.”
“It must be wonderful not to have everyone in your business all the time,” Michaela says. “That is why I am so fond of the Highlands. I rarely run into any disapproving glances.”
“You rarely run into anyone at all,” Eloise jokes.
Francesca laughs a little. “That is part of the charm, I must say.”
Michaela smiles at her.
Benedict watches them. “Michaela, how were your travels?”
“Fine,” she responds. “Enjoyable. Mostly. It is good to be back…it is difficult to be at Kilmartin house sometimes…”
“I imagine it is,” Sophie says sympathetically. “Please, stay here however long you like.”
“Two weeks,” Benedict amends.
Sophie blinks at him. “Husband.”
“What? They cannot stay forever,” he laughs softly. “There is going to come a time where I will need to have you all to myself.”
Eloise looks disgusted. “Some people at this table are trying to eat.”
Francesca laughs softly. “I quite understand wanting time with your spouse. It is one of the reasons John and I skipped so many…so many…” she blows out a soft breath. “In any case. Two weeks is more than enough time for a good visit, brother.”
Eloise reaches out and takes her hand. “And mother would not allow more than that anyways. What with…wanting me to find a husband. And Francesca has been making noises about remarrying.”
Benedict frets, glancing at Michaela, who is suddenly quite interested in her empty plate. “Truly? Another husband?”
“Must you?” Benedict asks, still confused. He looks at Michaela again, who, again, meets no one’s eyes. “I suppose if that is what you…what you want…”
“It is,” Francesca insists.
“Al…right,” Benedict nods slowly.
“You doubt what I want?” Francesca asks.
“Of course not,” he says gently. “I merely-”
“I can make my own choices about these things,” she cuts him off. “I am more than capable.”
“Of course you are, it is only-”
“I do not need your opinion,” she finishes.
Benedict goes quiet and nods again. “Alright. A new husband for Fran it is.”
Michaela shakes her head, but says nothing.
Charlie babbles in his basket, and Sophie leans down, picking him up and bouncing him.
“There, there,” she coos softly. “All is well.”
“Any luck on a husband for you, El?” Benedict asks.
“Shut up,” Eloise tells him.
Benedict nods. “Right.”
*****
“What was that?” Sophie asks softly as she dresses for bed that night. “At dinner? With your sister?”
“That,” Benedict says slowly as he pulls his shirt off. “Was panic.”
“Over what?” Sophie asks, sitting at her dressing table and brushing out her hair.
“I…I have my suspicions,” Benedict tells her, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I cannot say whether I am correct or not.”
“But…?”
Benedict shrugs. “Michaela leaves for nearly two years. She pops back up. Francesca brings her here, as if trying to ensure she does not leave under cover of darkness again. She then turns around and insists on finding a new husband.”
“Contradictory actions,” Sophie agrees.
“Mhm,” he nods. “One might even say a…a denial of affection.”
Sophie pauses her brushing for a moment, and turns to look at him.
He shrugs again and gives her a helpless grin. “I have been there before. It is something we must let her discover for herself.”
“So,” Sophie says slowly, taking his hand. “It may be a long two weeks?”
“LIkely,” Benedict tells her, lifting her hand to kiss the back of it.
