Chapter Text
The news that Benedict Bridgerton - heartthrob and musician - was coming to play a couple of gigs in their small town had sent Rosamund Reiling wild. She was determined to go, and she was determined that she was going to make Benedict Bridgerton fall in love with her.
“You’re not to go alone,” her mother Araminta said, when she heard of her plans, “take Sophie with you, so you’re safe”
Sophie was Rosamund’s stepsister, the daughter of Araminta’s late second husband. Neither Araminta nor Rosamund liked her at all. She’d been her father’s favourite, precious little Sophie who could do no wrong. Rosamund made clear her disappointment that she couldn’t go and put her Benedict-seducing plan into action alone, but Sophie swiftly promised that she wasn't particularly interested, and that she’d just stand to the side out of the way. This seemed to mollify Rosamund, and the concert tickets were purchased.
There was one major problem with Sophie, now she was more grown up, as far as Araminta Gunningworth was concerned. Sophie was far more beautiful than either of her daughters, Rosamund and Posy. Rosamund was her pride and joy, and she was sure that Rosamund would marry somebody well-off, providing for Araminta’s future. Sophie was a big problem - if she was more beautiful than Rosamund then this mysterious well-off man with no face thus far may well fall in love with her instead. It drove Araminta up the wall.
Rosamund pushed her way to the bar as soon as they reached the venue, and then pushed her way back again, desperate to make it to the barrier right by the stage. There was a lot of jostling with the crowd, and soon Rosamund’s fantastically girly pink cocktail was all down Sophie’s t-shirt. She’d just worn her everyday clothes, a grey top and jeans, so she didn’t detract from Rosamund, on the latter’s orders. Now, she was soaked through with tequila and grenadine and all manner of sticky things.
“I’m going to see if they have anything in lost property, Rosamund,” Sophie said as they made their way out of the bar area.
“Yeah whatever” Rosamund replied, not even bothering to turn and talk to her stepsister directly, far too busy getting a good position for when the doors opened.
Sophie made her way to the cloakroom, and asked if they had anything in there in her size. The only thing they had was a silver dress, far more noticeable than what she’d been wearing, to spare her the wrath of Araminta and Rosamund, but it would have to do.
She took the dress and ran to the ladies’ room to change, emerging feeling just a touch self-conscious in the sequined dress. She slipped into the auditorium and stood a few rows behind Rosamund, who was leaning against the barrier, bored by the support act (who Sophie thought was rather good).
Benedict stood at the edge of the stage, just out of the view of the crowd, listening to the support act. The lights panned out across the auditorium for a moment, and Benedict caught a flash of silver as they moved across. Somebody was evidently wearing something very sparkly, and he wanted to see it.
Before he knew it, it was his turn on stage. The support act had warmed up the crowd well, and they were raring to go. As he walked on and waved in the general direction of his audience, he scanned the crowd for the silver.
Then, his eyes fell on her. His eyes caught the silver and he saw her standing there, on the edge of the crowd, looking nervously towards the barrier. He didn’t know who she was, why she was standing off to the side, her arms covering her beautiful dress, and why she was looking so nervously at the front few rows of the crowd, but he was sure she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
As he made his way through his set, he had to work very hard on concentrating, making sure he played all the right chords and sang the right words and looked at all the crowd, rather than just fixating on her. When he played his most romantic song, he looked at her the whole time, though he did note a very angry young woman in the front row muttering to herself.
As he ran off stage just before his encore, he signalled to one of his roadies that he wanted the pretty girl in the silver dress to come backstage. He watched as he played two more songs as she followed the crew member through the side door into a corridor by the stage.
When he walked off the stage, handing his guitar to a techie, she was standing there. She was leaning nervously against the wall, looking nervously at the door back to the auditorium. He made his way over, and suddenly all her attention was on him.
Before he knew it, he was standing right opposite her, and he couldn’t find any words. She was so beautiful she took his breath away. She looked down at her feet nervously, and Benedict noticed the scuffed old trainers she was wearing. They didn’t exactly go with the dress, but then he noticed the bag she had with her. She’d borrowed the dress. He was damn glad she had.
He gently tilted her head up so they were eye to eye, and then he couldn’t help himself. He leant forward and kissed her gently. After a few seconds of shock, she kissed him back.
Then, though, she pulled away.
“Who are you?” Benedict whispered, his forehead resting on hers, “what’s your name?”
He was sure she was about to tell him, until a loud shout came from the auditorium. He didn’t hear what it was, he was far too wrapped up in her, but it obviously meant something.
“I’m sorry, I really must go” she whispered, before she ran out of the corridor and out of his life.
Sophie ran out to where Rosamund was waiting.
“I’m so sorry, I just nipped to the loo” She said, trying to cover her tracks.
“I know where you went,” Rosamund spat. She turned on her heel and walked quickly out of the venue, where she knew a cab was waiting for them.
Sophie knew she was in for it the minute they got home. Rosamund was quick to tell her mother all that had happened, from Sophie making her spill her drink to her catching Benedict’s eye to going backstage to meet him without her. She embellished her tale to make Sophie seem even more cruel hearted and wicked than she already thought she was.
Araminta was more furious than Sophie thought she’d ever seen - "You insolent child!" - She was quick to confiscate Sophie’s phone and laptop, cutting her off from the outside world completely. Sophie wasn’t to leave the houses without her express permission, which Sophie knew she was incredibly unlikely to give, and she was to cook every meal for them and do all the cleaning. She’d known this was coming. She was practically a slave in her own home because she’d had the temerity to be beautiful.