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When Benedict heard from his mother that Sophie could speak French, his brain was whirring as he walked back to his lodgings.
He had asked her who she was, she had refused to tell him and then everything about “can’t” and her steadfast refusal to be his mistress, his questions about her parentage and then his mother’s conversation around it all had him wondering.
Sophie was clearly educated, he knew that. There weren't many maids that could read, that could write and had an accent quite like hers. It wasn’t as upper crust as some of the ton but perhaps it could be…
Maybe she could speak French, maybe his mother was right… and maybe… just maybe he should test that out.
The following morning he went back to Number 5 Bruton Street with a spring in his step and a plan in his mind. Out of his siblings, he was the one who spoke French. Fran was learning but it was him. He had loved the language when their governess had taught them, his grandmother spoke beautiful French and told him of the artists in France, the galleries and it had made him long for it.
By the time he was due to go on his European Adventures, he went to Italy, and he went to France and took in the sites and he loved the language. He had known Genevieve wasn’t French and she liked to use him to practise her own French to keep up appearances so he obliged but he had never really used it to try and woo a woman…
He made his way through the house, his mother was up but getting dressed according to the Butler and he had decided to go looking for Sophie instead, she would be coming down for Breakfast and so he had waited for her.
She appeared, looking better in the recycled gown from one of his sisters, the light blue colour suited her skin colour and she looked like she was almost glowing, it had brought out the colour in her eyes and before Benedict could even think to say or do anything else he said “T’as de beaux yeux, tu sais ?”
Sophie’s heart nearly stopped at the sight of Benedict standing there, watching her. Her heart clenched and squeezed as she heard him speaking French and it took all her power not to swoon right there and then on the floor.
“I beg your pardon” was all she managed to say, blinking like a fish wondering if she had misheard him.
“J’ai dit... T’as de beaux yeux, tu sais? ” he said again, his voice a little hoarse and husky as he took a step closer to her, as he saw the colour on her cheek bloom.
“I… I…” she stammered. How the hell does one respond to being told they had beautiful eyes so early in the morning “Merci” she said quietly.
The fact Benedict seemed to know she spoke French had her in a flutter, had Violet been talking about her to him, was he just trying to push his luck.
“I have to go have breakfast” she said quickly and ran from next to him down the kitchen and Benedict smirked as she went, she was bright red from her cheeks right down to her chest and it was delightful
Oh he was going to have so much fun with this…
~*~
The next time Benedict had the chance to speak to Sophie in French she was in the garden at Number 5. He had come over with the explicit reason to speak to her, to see her but he had to have a reason so he brought a book over that he had promised for Hyacinth however all his sisters were out, and his mother was having a nap so there was no one there to receive him.
He had thought to just leave, if his sister’s were out then surely Sophie would be with his sister’s but as he walked back the wrought iron doors, he spotted her petite figure practically glowing in the sunshine of early summer.
He felt his heart skip a beat and he made his way to the doors. Sophie was reading a book, he couldn’t see her face but he saw her freeze as he appeared at the door, clearly a shadow had formed over her book and she knew.
She didn’t need to look up to know it was Benedict, no one else would come to her, other than the housekeeper and Sophie knew she was busy for a few hours with the cooks. There was a family dinner that night at Number 5 so there was a lot to do.
“What are you doing here Mr Bridgerton” Sophie asked, snapping her book shut over her finger, keeping her place in her book.
“Tu me manques" he said, plainly. It was true. He missed her. He hated that she was here with his mother, and not with him. He wanted her. He knew she wasn’t indifferent to him but she was being so bloody stubborn.
He saw the flash of pain on her face as she shook her head. “Don’t” she said, the pain was evident in her voice “Please don’t” she said getting to her feet, she needed to leave, her teeth biting into her bottom lip to stop it wobbling, she couldn’t stop here when he was saying that he missed her.
She wanted him and she wasn’t strong enough…
“Why not Sophie?” He asked her, taking a step closer to her.
“You know why!” she said “I can’t be your mistress! I won’t do it!” she said her voice quiet but urgent.
He took another step closer to her, his hand on hers which was clutching the book “You can do anything you choose. You just don’t want to.”
“Don’t make this harder than it already is,” she whispered.
When she said that, something snapped inside of him. He felt it palpably, a strange popping sensation that released a rush of blood, feeding the frustrated anger that had been simmering inside of him for days. “You think it’s not hard?” he asked.
“You think it’s not hard?”
“I didn’t say that!”
He grabbed her hand and pulled her body against his, so she could see for herself just how hard he was. “I burn for you,” he said, his lips touching her ear. “Every night, I lie in bed, thinking of you, wondering why the hell you’re here with my mother, of all people, and not with me.”
“I didn’t want—” she said, her green eyes staring up at him pleading with him.
“You don’t know what you want,” he cut in.
“ Embrasse-moi ” Sophie said, her eyes looking up at his, her eyes lingering on her lips, knowing what she wanted and he didn’t need telling twice.
her voice was laced with longing that Benedict knew and understood and he knew that she was not indifferent to him.
She might not fully understand what it meant to want a man, but she wanted him all the same. He captured her mouth with his, swearing to himself as he did so that if she said no, if she made any sort of indication that she didn’t want this, he’d stop. It’d be the hardest thing he’d ever done, but he would do it.
But she didn’t say no, and she didn’t push against him or struggle or squirm. Instead, she positively melted into him, her hands twinning in his hair as her lips parted beneath his, the book falling to the floor.
He didn’t know why she’d suddenly decided she wanted him to kiss her—no, to kiss him as she was definitely kissing him—but he wasn’t about to lift his lips from hers to wonder why. He seized the moment, tasting her, drinking her, breathing her.
He was no longer quite so confident that he would be able to convince her to become his mistress, and it was suddenly imperative that this kiss be more than just a kiss.
It might have to last him a lifetime.
~*~
It didn’t need to last a lifetime… thankfully.
After the disaster that was her first time, the antics with Lady Penwood… Sophie was finally his… or she would be… three weeks after that kiss in the gardens, Benedict finally had realised, he knew the truth about Sophie, she was his lady in silver, she was everything and she was the love of his life and she was going to be his wife.
As they had travelled back from the Jail and he had told his mother, he needed to speak with Sophie and led her to his lodgings, ignoring his mother’s call of “back by 7!” and led her into the same front room where she had lost her innocence a few weeks back and they sat down.
Sophie blutered out her apology before he even had a chance to get another word out.
Benedict shook his head and sat next to her, lifting her hands to his lips and kissed them again, like he had over and over on the way here “ Je t’ aime”
Sophie’s heart stopped. The whispers of I love you, in the language of love was enough, his apology, his heartfelt apology afterwards, they rebuilt their bridges and they apologised to one another.
Then he pointed out that she stunk… and stunk she did. Jail was dirty, it was the worst sort of hell Sophie had ever been through and after a bit of back and forth, Sophie not wanting to part from Benedict, agreed to have a bath there…
A bath for two…
Sophie tried to clear her mind and enjoy the hedonism of the moment, but it was difficult to enjoy with the anticipation growing within her veins.
He would be here soon. And when he was . . . She shivered.
Even in the steaming hot tub, she shivered.
And then, as she was sinking deeper into the water, allowing it to rise above her shoulders and neck, even right up to her nose, she heard the click of the door opening.
Benedict. He was wearing a dark green dressing gown, tied with a sash at his waist and Sophie smiled at him and he felt his heart squeeze with happiness
“ J’adore ton sourire.” he said, he loved her smile, when it reached her eyes like it was there, as he made the comment about burning her dress and getting a new one… it was just the right thing to say.
Sophie shifted slightly in the water to make room for him, but he surprised her by walking to her end of the tub, but he had other ideas. He wanted her… but not in the bath and he really wanted to bathe her.
“Lean forward,” he murmured.
She did, and sighed with pleasure as he began to wash her back. “I’ve dreamed of doing this for years.”
“Years?” she asked, amused.
“Mmm-hmm. I had many dreams about you after the masquerade.” Sophie blushed furiously as she rested her head on her knees. Grateful her blush was hidden.. “Dunk your head so I can wash your hair,” he ordered.
She slid under the water, then quickly came back up. Benedict rubbed the bar of soap in his hands and then began to work the lather through her hair, talking about the length of it, how she had sold it and Sophie was sure he growled and it made her heart happy to know that he was furious that she’d been through that… she knew it would grow back. It was already growing but it would be back soon.
“Ready to rinse.” She dunked back in the tub, swishing her head this way and that under the water before coming back up for air.
Benedict cupped his hands and filled them with water. “You’ve still got some in the back,” he said, letting the water pour over her hair.
Sophie let him repeat that process a few times, then finally asked, “Aren’t you coming in?”
It was dreadfully brazen of her, and she knew she must be blushing like a raspberry, but she simply had to know.
He shook his head. “I’d planned to, but this is too much fun.”
“Washing me?” she asked, her brow raised sceptically..
One corner of his mouth quirked into the faintest smirk “I’m rather looking forward to drying you off as well.” He reached down and picked up a large white towel. “Up you go.”
Sophie chewed on her lower lip in indecision. He had seen her naked, it was brief and she wasn’t so immune to embarrassment and wasn’t sure she was able to just stand like that in front of him.
Benedict smiled faintly, realising her embarrassment, as he stood and unfolded the towel. Holding it wide, he averted his gaze and said, “I’ll have you all wrapped up before I can see a thing.”
Sophie took a deep breath and stood.
Benedict gently wrapped the towel around her, his hands bringing the corners to her face when he was done. He dabbed at her cheeks, where light droplets of water were still clinging to her skin, then leaned down and kissed her nose. “ Tu me rends heureuse,” he murmured to her
“ Tu me rends heureux aussi .”
Benedict’s heart swelled as he touched her chin. His eyes never left hers, and she almost felt as if he’d touched those as well. They made each other happy… oh so happy and he knew it was a future he could not wait for.
And then, with the softest, most tender caress imaginable, he kissed her.
Sophie didn’t just feel loved; she felt revered.
“Je veux être avec toi, mais je dois attendre lundi”
Sophie shivered, she wanted him too, “i don’t want you to wait…”
And they didn’t…
~*~
Three days later they were Mr and Mrs Bridgerton, man and wife and on their way from Aubrey Hall to the coast. Simon had loaded them a carriage and a cottage for a small honeymoon, two weeks of just the two of them by the coast.
Neither could wait and they had snuck away from the party, or had tried to sneak away from their small reception but had been caught by Kate and Anthony before they could escape and they had been catcalled by the family as they left, but once in the safe confines of the carriage, Benedict kissed his new bride softly, their heads pressed together as they enjoyed a loving moment as man and wife.
Benedict was the one to pull back first and he sighed happily “ Tu es ma joie de vivre” . The joy of his life couldn’t be anymore true. Sophie was everything to him, she was his air, his water and his reason to live.
Sophie beamed, blinking back tears as she replied “ Je t’aime de tout mon coeur” and Benedict kissed her again, his lips moving against hers in a sensual and loving way until they needed to catch their breath.
“Je t’aimerai pour toujours.” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion
“ Toujours” Sophie asked
“Always” he said softly and the carriage pulled to a stop outside of the cottage before he could move her into his arms again.
It was only a two hour ride from Aubrey Hall to their coastal home and Benedict pouted slightly, he had been about to pull her into his arms and let his hand roam under her skirts.
Sophie however had other ideas and the moment they were in the front door of the cottage, she pulled her husband to her by his waistcoat, her lips tangling with his filthily as she whispered “Fais-moi l’amour.”
And Benedict didn’t need telling twice… he scooped her into his arms and led them into the room and they made love until the small hours of the morning
~*~
Benedict hadn’t want to come back to London after christmas but he had to speak to Henry, he needed to find out more about the exhibit he was invited to host but with Sophie now quite round with child, he had wanted to head straight back to My Cottage but Sophie had assured him that she was fine and they were going to be stopping with Anthony and Kate anyway.
Business took less time than he thought and though invitations and social events were usually low on the ground after Christmas, Lady Danbury decided to host a small soiree for the few families she actually liked and she had written personally to Sophie to ensure that she and Benedict came.
She had heard the rumours and talk of Benedict’s invitation for the exhibit and wanted to know all the details and the invitation was written so that Benedict knew he had no choice but to attend.
He loved being able to show Sophie off and to have her on his arm but he did just want to head back to My Cottage and get things ready for their baby but Lady Danbury was one of Sophie’s biggest champions in London and it was always nice to see the Countess.
So they went, Sophie felt huge with her stomach, she was sure people were looking at her and it certainly didn’t help when Lady Danbury came walking towards them, cane making a loud noise and parting the crowd like Moses parted the red sea and declared “My word Mrs Bridgerton, are you sure you are not carrying twins!” she said in her booming voice.
Benedict winced and squeezed Sophie’s hand, good lord you would think the older women would show some tact… it’s not the sort of thing you said to a pregnant woman but Sophie took it all in her stride “alas no Lady Danbury. I am clearly just much too petite to be carrying a Bridgerton child” she said jovially.
Lady Danbury let out a bark of laughter “Oh Mr Bridgerton, I do so love your wife”
“So do i” he replied and led her into the hallowed halls of Lady Danbury’s home.
The ballroom was quiet, there wasn’t much going on but a quiet lilt of conversation and the music floated lightly around the room. Dinner had been lovely, Lady Danbury had been very interested in hearing about his exhibit and how Sophie had managed to organise it and Sophie honestly felt like she had been talking for hours… her feet and back were killing and Benedict could see the pain on his wives face and eventually he managed to excuse them from the older woman’s clutches with “my apologise Lady Danbury but I must beg that we take a moment and a break, my feet and back are aging and I cannot lean on Sophie” he said, “and we don’t all have the benefit of the cane” he said with a charming smile.
Lady Danbury saw straight through his excuse but waved them off with a joke and offering to loan him a spare cane.
As they walked away Sophie leaned in and whispered to her husband “Tu es charmante mon amour”
They had learned that not many people of the ton were actually able to speak French and this way they could have conversations without people eavesdropping.
“Pour toi… absolument…" he said with a charming smile, bringing her hands to his lips . “Je pense toujours à toi.”
This was true, she was always on his mind. They sat down away from the crowd, watching his family. “You can go to them if you want, I am sure I can manage a little while on my own” Sophie said but Benedict shook his head
“Je veux être avec toi.” he said leaning in and pressing a slightly scandalous kiss to Sophie’s cheek, and Sophie blushed.
“Take me home Benedict” Sophie said, leaning in, her eyes burning into his and Benedict didn’t need telling twice. They left the party pretty quickly, taking their leave and taking the carriage home and making it go back for Anthony and Kate.
~*~
Sophie felt huge, her nerves were through the roof as she got closer to the end of her second pregnancy. This had been much like the last, she had been sick and exhausted and once again she felt absolutely enormous.
Charlie was nearly 2 and they were getting ready to head to Aubrey Hall for Christmas, where she would remain for her confinement. Charlie had taken to kissing her tummy, his excitement for being a big brother was contagious and it was making Sophie feel more at ease.
The carriage ride to Aubrey Hall from London was bumping and Sophie was trying to sleep. The baby was still kicking her through the night and she was exhausted. Charlie had been singing to her, the baby and Benedict when she fell asleep on her husband’s shoulder.
She stirred after an hour, a little breathy moan and stretch as she yawned, “ bonjour mon amour, Te sens-tu mieux?” Benedict asked,
“Yes thank you” she said sleepy.
“Je t’aime mon amour” he said, pressing a kiss to her head.
Charlie was looking up at his parents, his eyes bright as he smiled, “what’s that pap pap?”
“What’s, what my prince?” Sophie asked her son sleepily.
“Je… je…. Tame?” he said stammering his confusion
“It means I love you” Benedict said “and I love your mama very much” he said.
Charlie pulled himself to his feet and climbed up between his parents nodding his head and pressed a kiss to Sophie’s cheek, trying to copy his papa.
“Je… t’aime mama” he said hesitantly before pressing a kiss to Sophie’s belly “je…. T’aime baba”
Sophie burst into sobs as she scooped her son into her arms as Benedict’s own eyes filled with tears as the family of three hugged and Sophie sobbed her I love you’s back to her husband and son.
It was no surprise that all of Benedict and Sophie’s children became proficient French speakers and had to beg their parents when they got older to stop speaking to one another at balls in french, as they could understand exactly what they were saying and it was mortifying to listen to their parents talk like that in public…