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Benedict had never been as happy in his life as he was courting Miss Sophie Beckett. It felt like a dream.

Since they first met, he'd found himself thinking of her constantly. Her beautiful curls. The dusting of light freckles over her nose. The way she laughed. The way she smiled. He didn't know what it was, but being around her made him happier than he ever was. He felt whole. 

And his family loved her. His own mother spoke non-stop about her after she met her through Eloise. She found Sophie to be a good influence on his sister, sisters he should since even Francesca and Hyacinth enjoyed her company just as much. Eloise and Sophie had become quick friends (even with their differing temperaments), which placated Benedict's concerns with his younger sister. She still refused to tell him what had happened between her and Penelope, but he was happy his sister wasn't spending her time alone. And their friendship meant Sophie spent time at Number 5. He endured weeks of teasing from Hyacinth and Francesca for his sudden lurking about, finding excuses to visit in the hopes Sophie was already there. 

She was beautiful and perfect. He loved her and was confident he had from the first moment he saw her. For the first time in his life found himself stumbling and stuttering like a schoolboy when he was around her. Bumbling like a fool as he tried to charm her. He sometimes lost the ability to speak altogether when she was present. 

Through their many conversations, where he could speak properly again, he learned much about her. How she enjoyed the arts but expressed having no talent for it but she could play the pianoforte well enough. Mathematics, however, was one of her main talents. While she never outwardly said it, she wanted romance like any young lady. She enjoyed romance novels and poetry from Byron (which Benedict overlooked just because the excitement in her voice as she spoke was enough to placate his distaste of the poet). She enjoyed her time in London but preferred the quiet of the country. She could speak both French and Latin perfectly, and somehow, even though he wasn't sure how she'd done it, she'd convinced him to get back into painting again.

She'd asked one day to see his work. Eloise had let slip to her how he'd previously been attending the Royal Academy. As much as his insecurities and shame over what had happened tried stopping him, he'd decided then and there to sketch her on a piece of newspaper left in the parlor. The praise she'd given him was enough encouragement that the moment he returned to his lodgings that afternoon, he'd pulled out the paints and easel he'd packed away, suddenly inspired.

He finally proposed marriage to her privately during his mother's summer ball, nearly three months after their first meeting at Lady Danbury's ball. He took her to the private terrace while Eloise stood guard inside to ensure no one stumbled upon them. 

Sophie had been elated when he asked, practically shaking with excitement that she had impulsively surged forward and pressed her lips against his. The quick, tender kiss sent shocks through him, and it had taken every inch of his self-control to not defile her there and then. The need to touch her was now ever-present in his mind. 

If a single kiss made him feel the way he had on that terrace, he had no idea how he could wait three weeks to marry her. 

But before he could even get those three weeks, he had to first get permission. Sophie had accepted the proposal, but her guardian, the Earl of Penwood, was the one who would decide if they could move forward with a wedding. Hence how he found himself currently waiting in the parlor of Penwood House to speak with him, knee jumping up and down anxiously as he waited. 

Finally, a butler entered. "His lordship is ready to meet with you, Mr. Bridgerton. If you will follow me."

Benedict followed him to another room down the hall, which turned out to be a study. Glancing up the grand staircase as he passed, he noticed Sophie and Posy standing at the top by the railing, both ducking out of sight once they'd been spotted. Benedict couldn't help but smile as he entered the study but quickly covered it with a relaxed, neutral expression when he spotted the earl. 

Seated behind a mahogany desk in front of large bay windows allowing enough natural light into the room to brighten it, and with a stack of paperwork in front of him, was Lord Richard Gunningworth. Although he had been two years below Benedict's father at Eton, Richard Gunningworth was known for being a stern, no-nonsense type. He was well respected and good with money, knowing who and when to invest. A private man, such as the nature of the Gunningworths, Anthony had given Benedict the knowledge that Richard preferred directness, no beating around the bush or small talk. Get straight to the point with him, and you are more likely to stay on his good side. Flattery literally got you nowhere with him. 

"Lord Penwood," Benedict nodded politely to the man.

"Mr. Bridgerton," the earl replied. "Please, sit." 

Benedict swiftly took a seat across from the earl. He'd never felt this nervous in his life. It was as though he was ten and three again when he and his brother were called to the headmaster's office after being caught mucking about on the school grounds. 

"I assume you are here to speak about, Miss Beckett?" the earl asked. 

Benedict nodded. "Yes. I'm certain she informed you I had proposed marriage to her?" 

"She informed me she had also accepted your proposal," the earl added. "I will get straight to the point. I have no immediate concerns besides her dowry, Mr. Bridgerton. However, from how I've seen your brother manage your family fortune, I hope I can correctly assume you'll have no issue managing Sophie's dowry? Otherwise, you have my full support to move forward. I'm certain Sophie will be happy to hear I gave you both my blessing." 

Benedict almost sighed with relief at the earl's immediate acceptance of the engagement. This wasn't as bad as he thought. 

"I'll have my solicitor contacted to go over the marriage articles. Sophie's parents left her a sizable dowry of thirty thousand pounds when they passed, which I believe you've already heard-" Benedict nearly fell out of the chair. Thirty thousand pounds! No one had told him Sophie's dowry was that big! 

He sat stunned in his chair as the earl continued speaking, incapable of processing what was said. All he could hear was a buzzing noise as the Earl’s mouth continued moving. 

As shocked as he was, it explained a lot. The number of other suitors he'd initially been courting against, given Sophie had gotten two other proposals before his (which she had all politely declined, Eloise assured him). The infuriating comments he'd heard from them of how Sophie's appearance and dutiful nature made the nature of courting her all the more worth it. How his family had kept asking him about it, his brothers joking over what he would do with it, and his mother mentioning how proud she was he didn't care about the money. 

And Benedict couldn't forget the deep flush Sophie would get whenever it was brought up. She'd been so upset when Rosamund revealed it to the whole town, but Benedict now realized it wasn't because it was small like he'd thought. It was because it was more significant than any of his sisters'. Thirty thousand meant roughly fifteen hundred a year of income, on top of Benedict's own inheritance and investments.

"Mr. Bridgerton? Mr. Bridgerton, are you alright?" the earl raised an eyebrow as he stared at him rather annoyed at being ignored. 

Benedict nodded quickly, still trying to wrap his head around all this news and focus on the earl. "Yes, apologize. You were saying, Lord Penwood."

"Mr. Harrison is still your family's solicitor, correct?" Benedict nodded again. "Good. I shall notify him and your brother that we will be beginning discussions. Before I do, though, I wish to clarify that you can provide for Sophie on your own? I've heard you are…an artist."

Benedict couldn't ignore how that had stung a little. He could tell the man how he potentially would have his works hanging at the British Institute, but Henry had only just gotten him a meeting there. 

"I have a home in Wiltshire. It's a sizable property I bought with some of my inheritance. I plan to sell my lodgings in London so Miss Beckett and I may move there after the wedding. My brother has the copies of my investments that I shall provide to your solicitor," Benedict explained. 

"We can discuss the rest when the solicitors are present," the earl told him. "I'll be in contact, Mr. Bridgerton. Good day." 

He took that as his sign to leave. And it had, thankfully, gone better than he could have imagined. Even with the shock of the dowry. As he turned to go, having already taken a few steps towards the door, the earl called out behind him. 

"Mr. Bridgerton!" Benedict turned back to the earl at his sudden outburst. The earl seemed equally surprised, composing himself quickly. "Apologies, I just...I wanted your assurance. That you will take care of Sophie. I've done my best to provide for her all these years; however, I…well, I guess I wasn't as good of a guardian as I should have been."

Benedict frowned, confused about where this was suddenly coming from. Sophie expressed nothing but gratitude for the earl when asked. "Your lordship, I'm-"

"Sophie deserves a lot more than she has received in life. More than what I gave her. I want you to promise me that you will give her the life she deserves," the earl said. "You can promise me that, can't you?"

Benedict didn't even hesitate. 

"Yes. Of course," Benedict told him promptly. "Sophie's happiness is all I care for, Lord Penwood. It’s all I will ever care about."

"Good," the earl nodded. He seemed satisfied by that. "Good…that is all, Mr. Bridgerton. I won't keep you any longer."

He waved him off, dismissively, and merely returned to his paperwork as though Benedict wasn't even there. After a few moments of awkward silence, Benedict took it as a sign it was probably best that he left. 

Exiting the study, he found Sophie now standing at the bottom of the staircase. She wore a light green dress with lilacs in different shades of purple embroidered on the skirt. God, she was beautiful. 

She was gripping the railing tightly, her knuckles white, and perked up when she saw him exit.

"How did it go?" she asked softly. 

"Well, I believe Wellington had an easier time against Napoleon,” Benedict smiled. “But Lord Penwood gave his permission.”

The worried expression on her face turned into a bright smile. Sophie squealed, jumping down the last stair to throw herself into his arms. He couldn't help but spin her around, even with the servants nearby watching them. Making sure to quickly put her down, Benedict's hands still lingered on her bare arms for a second longer than what would be seen as respectful. 

"Here," he stepped back, pulling the velvet ring box he'd brought with him from his pocket. "Since our engagement is now official." 

He'd gotten the ring from his mother the week prior; he'd ignored the knowing smirk she'd given him when he asked to see the family rings. Her gentle teasing as who they were for. 

The teardrop-shaped ruby surrounded by diamonds with four extra ones at the top, which made the setting of the gems look like a heart, all sat on top of a thin gold band he'd had it polished before he brought it. It had been his maternal grandmother's ring. 

"Oh Benedict, it's beautiful."

Sophie pulled off the light green glove she wore on her left hand, eyes still on the ring, as Benedict took it and gently slid the ring onto her finger.

"I can send for a jeweler if it does not fit," Benedict told her, but Sophie shook her head.

"It's perfect," Sophie expressed in awe. "I don't ever want to take it off." 

He wanted to kiss her again, right there in the hallway, but there were too many eyes. The earl was literally in the room behind them. Capable of walking out at any moment. Tempted as he was to throw etiquette out the window, Benedict instead took her ungloved hand and brought it to his lips. 

"I shall see you soon," he told her after placing a gentle kiss on her fingers right by the ring. "I have to inform my family of the happy news. I feel it best to warn you now but be prepared for my mother to unexpectedly show up. She'll want your opinion on the wedding plans."

"And…" Sophie hesitated, shifting uncomfortably. "The dowry…?"

Benedict hummed, hoping that would be a good enough answer for her. 

"It doesn't bother you?" she added. 

Benedict pressed another kiss to her fingers, unable to resist. "All I want right now is to see you walk down that aisle so I may finally show you how much I love and want you."

He whispered the last part, watching the flush that appeared on Sophie's cheeks going down her neck to her chest, making him crave her even more. She let out a nervous giggle, glancing around to make sure no one heard him. Her teeth grazed her bottom lip in such a manner, as simple as it was, Benedict was still sure he wouldn’t make the three weeks. 

Screw the dowry, he thought. He could panic over it later. 

<+>

Just as Benedict had warned, Violet Bridgerton did, in fact, show up the following day wishing to speak with her about the wedding. Not that Sophie minded, she quite liked the dowager viscountess.

“Oh, Sophie, how good it is to see you,” Lady Bridgerton beamed at her when Sophie entered the foyer where she was waiting, wearing her typical bridgerton blues. “I do hope it’s alright for me to call you Sophie now-” Sophie nodded. “-wonderful! I believe congratulations are in order.” 

“Thank you, Lady Bridgerton,” Sophie thanked.

“Oh, please, call me Violet. It’s only fair,” Violet assured. “I do hope you will not mind me dropping in unexpectedly, but I was hoping to speak with you privately. I wanted to get your opinion on some of the wedding matters. I am unsure if you had begun discussing them with Lady Penwood or if she wished to be involved….”

Araminta had feigned a headache that morning, which Sophie had expected. She’d seen the sour expression that crossed her stepmother’s face during dinner after the earl mentioned her upcoming marriage to Benedict. 

“You gave them permission?” Araminta had hissed at him, but the earl had only ignored her. Sophie had then kept quiet for the rest of dinner, not wishing for a fight to start because of her until Araminta rose from her seat and stated she’d be turning in early. 

It was better this way. Sophie preferred to not have Araminta involved in anything related to her life, and once she was married, she’d have no other reason to. They could finally go their separate ways. And Lady Bridgerton had been nothing but kind and welcoming to her since she’d met her. While most of her excitement with marrying Benedict came from how much she loved him and wished to spend the rest of her life with him, she couldn’t ignore the tiny little part of her that was overjoyed to be marrying into a family like the Bridgertons. 

She’d been shocked when she’d first met the rest of the Bridgerton clan and maybe even a little jealous. To have a family as loving and caring as the Bridgertons had been something she’d craved since she was a little girl. She hadn’t gotten it from the earl, and she certainly had never gotten it when Araminta had married him, but maybe now she would.

“Lady Penwood isn’t feeling well this morning, I’m afraid,” Sophie informed her, trying to keep herself from smiling as she spoke.

Somehow, it looked as though Lady Bridgerton’s smile only grew bigger at the news. “Well then, you and I will have to figure it out ourselves. Although, I doubt we will have any issues.” 

Sophie then spent the rest of the morning conversing about color schemes, food for the reception and flower arrangements. Violet had been thinking about sunflowers and daisies, and pale green ribbon for the church. Sophie was informed she’d already gotten an appointment with Madame Delacroix to plan the wedding dress. And Violet also passed along a request from Hyacinth, who wished to be the flower girl if Sophie and Benedict wanted to have one. The butterflies building in her stomach only grew as Sophie realized how much had to be done, how quickly three weeks would take. 

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow. Posy and Rosamund are welcome to join if they wish, and you can assure Lord and Lady Penwood they need not worry about any of the wedding arrangements. I’m more than welcome to handle all of them,” Lady Bridgerton informed her. She then took Sophie’s hands in hers. “Oh, Sophie, I have to just say how happy I am that you will be joining our family. I do not believe Benedict has stopped smiling since he informed me of your engagement.” 

“Honestly, I cannot stop myself,” Sophie said. Her cheeks practically ached from all the smiling she had done these past few days, but she couldn’t help it. Every time she thought about her engagement, or Benedict, or marrying Benedict, her lips perked upward without fail. 

Violet patted her hand, still smiling brightly. “I should probably get going. Before I leave, I did want to ask; I thought it might be a good idea for our families to sit down together for dinner? A celebratory dinner for the engagement.”

Sophie’s stomach tightened, knotting together in a way she was sure not even an accomplished sailor could tie. Having her family sit down with the Bridgertons frankly horrified her. Posy had really been the only one besides herself who had interacted with them, and while she didn’t feel she needed to worry about the earl, having Rosamund and Araminta there was what worried her. It would go terribly. She knew it would.

“It would just be Benedict, myself, and my eldest, Anthony, whom I believe you’ve met,” Lady Bridgerton added. “My daughter-in-law, Kate, may also join, but she’s been feeling rather poorly lately, so I am not sure she will be able to come. I’d be happy to host the dinner at our home if it makes it easier.”

Instead of politely declining and coming up with an excuse right there on the spot, Sophie found her need to please agreeing to the idea. “I’ll pass on the idea to his lordship.”

“Wonderful. I’ll see you tomorrow then. Take care, Sophie,” Violet said.

After Lady Bridgerton left, Sophie thought to just not tell anyone for a few moments, but she struggled to think of an excuse that wouldn’t make her relatives look rude. She silently prayed for there to be no way for the dinner to happen. That they would all be too busy to attend. That the earl would find it a waste of time and politely decline for all of them. She knew he hated hosting. Or maybe he’d decide only Sophie and him participate. If she was lucky.

When she asked him later that day, her father surprised her for the first time in her entire life.

“Sounds fine to me,” he’d told her, not taking his eyes off the contracts. “And you can inform Lady Bridgerton we are more than capable of hosting. All we will need is their availability.” 

He then dismissed her with a wave of the hand. Something deep inside Sophie told her this was a terrible idea, but there was nothing she could do to stop it. 

<+>

"Good God, did you really not know?" Colin laughed as he spoke. 

Benedict put his head in his hands and groaned. This was a mistake. 

It had been driving him crazy. The dowry. To the point, he had finally caved and informed his brothers while they sat in Anthony's study one afternoon. Told them, impulsively, when it had come up that he had not known his intended bride had a thirty thousand pound dowry, and the first thing they'd done was laugh at him. Anthony was still trying to compose himself. 

"How on earth, in almost three months, did you not realize-?" Colin added. 

"No one exactly told me," Benedict responded defensively. 

"It was announced to the entire ton"

"I wasn't actually present when that happened!"

"It was in Whistledown! Everyone has been speaking about it."

"Well, not to me! And you know I don't read that gossipmonger. I don't understand why no one decided to just tell me themselves," Benedict snapped, glaring at his younger brother before directing that glare at his older brother, who was still laughing from where he sat behind his desk. "Anthony, stop laughing before you choke yourself to death!"

Anthony let out a final cackle before he calmed enough to speak, taking deep breaths and wiping the tears from his eyes. "Brother, you could have asked for clarification if you were that confused."

God, they were never going to let him live this down. 

"Miss Beckett seemed upset whenever it was mentioned, and I do not believe it is practical or polite to ask a lady what her dowry is. Would you?" Benedict hissed. "I just assumed, given how upset she got when it was mentioned-"

"That it was a small one? God Benedict, I don't know if I should be offended on Miss Beckett's behalf," Anthony joked. 

"Thank you for your support, brother," Benedict deadpanned. 

He leaned back in his chair with a sigh. Colin had gotten up to fill their glasses with brandy, handing Benedict back his own. He took it and downed it in one go, tipping his head back and letting the liquid burn his throat as it went down. 

"What exactly do you plan to do?" Colin asked, smiling still. 

"I don't know," Benedict replied, placing the glass down. 

What was he to do with a fifteen hundred plus yearly income? As big as it was, My Cottage was no Audrey Hall and thus barely needed as much upkeep or staff. Maybe he would hire an extra maid and a gardener. With that much money, he and Sophie would probably never have to raise a finger for the rest of their lives. Which did sound nice now that he thought about it. They could just spend their days together in bed undisturbed.

"You can refuse to take it. Or you could save it. It would be useful to have it still on hand if you have daughters. But it's your choice in the end," Anthony informed him, back to his head-of-the-family mode, giving his younger brother the guidance he could tell he needed. "The marriage articles are still being drawn up. I'm welcome to pass any choice you make to Mr. Harrison."

Benedict groaned. 

"I'd take the dowry," Colin told him with a shrug. "Fifteen hundred a year and a beautiful wife to go with, who would refuse that?" 

"She's not just a pretty face, Colin," Benedict warned. He'd hated it enough when the other gentlemen made those remarks about Sophie. He wouldn't hear it from his own brother. "She's more than that." 

"Miss Beckett is also about to become your sister-in-law, Colin," Anthony added. 

Colin shrugged, looking toward Benedict. "I'm merely pointing out the obvious. You love Miss Beckett, yes? You were prepared to marry her even if her dowry was only a thousand pounds. A hundred. Why does it matter now that it is greater than that?" 

Embarrassment. That was why it mattered. He spent practically three months courting a woman while utterly oblivious to this. To the one thing that made her so sought after by the rest of the ton. Maybe it gave him an advantage compared to the rest that he'd gone in blind, but the level of miscommunication he'd made. But at the same time, he'd practically misunderstood the entirety of their first meeting. He didn't even know how he would explain it to her. What would she think of it? Would he even tell her? He was going to marry her regardless. Was it worth even mentioning to her? 

"Just tell her, Benedict," Anthony advised as though he had read his mind. "It's better to be honest with her than to go into a marriage with lies. I would know. And Miss Beckett will probably find it as funny as we have." 

"She may even let you live it down," Colin added.

"I hate both of you, you know that, right?" Benedict told them. He stood up to leave.

"Don't forget. Mother asked the Penwoods about hosting an engagement dinner. It is set for this Friday," Anthony reminded him. 

"Yes, yes, I know," Benedict told him. He smiled at the thought of Sophie. His mother had recently been monopolizing most of her time, making it difficult for him to get even a minute of her time when he saw her at Number 5. He couldn't even visit her at the Penwood House because she was usually out with his mother or sisters going over something to do with the wedding.

He had no worries that the dinner wouldn't go as well as the past couple of days. Frankly, he was just excited to finally see her. What could possibly go wrong?

<+>

Sophie spent the entire day before her dinner with the Bridgertons trying not to throw up. She was shaking from nerves. Pacing back and forth in her room all day.

She tried focusing on what she would wear to distract herself. Going through the different gowns Madame Delacroix made for her, she went with the champagne taffeta dress with the black ribbon. Gunningworth rubies went well with both the shift and her engagement ring. She hoped Benedict liked it. 

The Bridgertons arrived early, only by a few minutes. The Viscountess was able to attend, having recovered from her sudden illness. Sophie had only met her briefly at some balls where she had been hiding in the corner with Eloise. Their conversations had been pleasant enough on those occasions. 

"It's good to see you again, Miss Beckett" the Viscountess smiled as she greeted Sophie upon her arrival. She wore a dress in the same shade of dark purple Sophie typically had seen her in during their previous interactions. The color suited her well. 

"Same to you, Lady Bridgerton," Sophie still felt the tug to be polite in front of her intended in-laws. She nodded to the viscount. "Lord Bridgerton."

"You look well, Miss Beckett," The viscount told her. 

"As do you," Sophie turned back to Kate. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, much better," Kate told her, glancing quickly at her husband. "It was just a stomach bug. Nothing too serious."

The dowager viscountess embraced her with a tight hug as they gave their greetings. Once she'd said hello to them, she turned to the final guest who'd arrived with them.

"How are you?" Benedict asked quietly, his wonderful crooked smile present. He stepped forward, taking her hand in his and comfortingly rubbing his thumb across her fingers.

She smiled. "Better now that you are here." 

"Good. You look wonderful," he whispered, sneaking a quick kiss on her cheek when no one was looking. 

She wished she could just kiss him there and then. She would never understand how her fears just disappeared when he was present. He made her feel weightless. 

Pleasantries were exchanged between the two families before they made their way to the dining room. Sophie tried not to cringe at the forceful edge of Araminta's tone when she greeted the Bridgertons. No one seemed to notice, though, except possibly the dowager viscountess. There was an awkward stiffness from Violet, who kept a pleasant smile on her face as she exchanged words with Araminta.  

There had been a coldness from Araminta lately. More than usual. Araminta had just been flat-out ignoring her the past few days, a sneer crossing her face whenever she saw Sophie before turning away from her dismissively and leaving. If Sophie was still eleven, she might have been hurt by it. Still, it worried her. 

The earl and the viscount took their seats at opposite ends of the table, their wives next to them. Sophie was seated between Violet and Posy, with Benedict across from her. 

For the most part, it seemed to be going well. As the dinner progressed, the nervous flutter was still present in Sophie's stomach. The conversations felt very formal. Rosamund, Sophie noticed, tried continuously to start a conversation with Benedict, but he kept his eyes on Sophie the entire dinner. Asking her questions when there was a lull in the chat with Rosamund to get out of it. Posy, in turn, tried to distract her sister.

Armanita was quiet during the dinner. The earl, meanwhile, was the reverse, actually conversing, something Sophie had never seen from him. Most of their family dinners, when they had them, were quiet, with Araminta and Rosamund the only ones conversing. When they had guests, Araminta held the conversation in a vice-grip, the earl giving comments here or there to appear present and involved. Sophie always wondered if her father actually had friends. If there was someone in the ton, he actually liked. 

She and Violet spent most of the dinner quietly conversing about the wedding and what she had been doing since they last saw each other. The past few days she'd spent with Violet was wonderful. To have a mother figure like her suddenly was a nice change to the biting remarks or ignorance she got from Araminta. 

"It's such a shame your parents could not be here to see your big day," Rosamund said suddenly, speaking in a tone of faux sympathy. 

Sophie carefully cast her eyes toward her stepsister; the thin insincere smile and narrow eyes on her stepsister's face made her unsure of her intentions. She always was when it came to speaking with Rosamund. And as it always went with her, no one appeared to have noticed the jab that it was. 

The conversations ceased, and Sophie eyed the Bridgertons. Praying they hadn't noticed. 

"Your parents passed when you were little, correct?" Kate asked, seeking clarifications. 

"My mother died in childbirth," Sophie explained. It was the easy part of the story since it was the truth. "And my father passed away from illness a few years after I was three."

"I'm sure your mother would have been so happy for you," Violet remarked, taking Sophie's hand in hers supportively. 

"As happy as a dead harlot can be," Armanita muttered into her crystal glass. 

Sophie froze. She wasn't sure she had heard her say it at first, but Lady Bridgerton's expression told her she had. Violet frowned, taken aback by her stepmother's remark, looking over Sophie's shoulder towards the countess. Benedict, Anthony, and Kate appeared equally as confused. Unsure if they had just heard what they thought they had heard. A familiar silence had descended on the table once again. 

Not again. Not this. 

Slowly turning her head towards the other end of the table, she made eye contact with a fuming Armanita, who glared venomously back at her. The earl sat as still as a marble statue next to his wife, eyes narrow as he watched her but his face unreadable. Obscured by the glass of wine he had against his lips. 

"Excuse me?" Kate asked. Confused. 

"Araminta…" the earl warned. 

"What?" she snapped at him. "She was, wasn't she?"

"I'm sorry, but I do not believe there is any reason to be calling Miss Beckett's mother a harlot," Anthony interjected.

Araminta stared at him before she laughed, cackled in fact, and Sophie felt her stomach drop. "You actually believe it? That story about Sophie's parents?"

"Araminta…" the earl warned again, louder this time. Araminta's head snapped back in his direction. 

"She looks just like you. If she had taken after her whore mother, I might have been able to forgive you for throwing her on me, but she looks exactly like you," Araminta hissed at him. 

"Sophie?" she heard Benedict softly ask, but she couldn't look at him. She couldn't look at him and see the look of betrayal and anger that she knew was there. She couldn't look at the Bridgertons altogether. 

She was shaking, her heart hammering wildly in her chest. The room was getting smaller. The edges of her vision blurring and darkening. She tried to breathe but couldn't get enough air into her chest with each breath. Her hands clutched the skirt of her dress and the napkin she'd placed over her lap tightly. 

Not this. Anything but this. 

"Mama, please…" Posy tried. 

"Be quiet, Posy!" Araminta snapped, and Posy closed her mouth, lips pressed tightly together. She turned back to the earl. "You could have just married her off quietly, and no one would have known. No one would have had to know. I begged you to do that, but no, no, you brought her here to London to have her paraded around for everyone to see. For everyone to see that I have been providing a home to my husband's natural daughter all these years."

And there it was. She was ruined. 

Something wet was dripping onto her hands. Looking down, she saw it was her own tears dripping down her face and off her chin. She hadn't realized she'd started crying. 

"Enough!" the earl suddenly yelled, slamming his glass on the table hard enough that Sophie was surprised it didn't shatter. Everyone at the table collectively jumped in surprise. "That is enough, Araminta!" 

Araminta no longer looked furious. She looked surprised. Wide-eyed and stunned, she was taken aback for a moment. She blinked before her expression shifted, becoming expressionless and calm. A brow raised, she stared down her nose at her husband.  

"I'm only telling the truth," Araminta said calmly, as though she had just done them all a favor. 

"By ruining my name and yours? Your daughters?" the earl questioned, face red with anger. "You might as well have written to bloody Whistledown and told her yourself." 

"Your lordship," Violet interjected softly, attempting to calm the tension in the room. "You can be assured my family would never disclose this to anyone."

The earl glanced over as if suddenly remembering others were present and sighed. 

"Thank you, Lady Bridgerton. I must apologize to you and your family that you had to see this," the earl pinched the bridge of his nose. "Mr. Bridgerton, I will understand if you do not wish to proceed with the wedding-"

Sophie couldn't take it anymore. She threw her napkin onto the table, pushing her chair back roughly enough that it tipped over as she stood.

"Excuse me," she somehow managed to get out, voice breaking. 

Turning to flee, she didn't hear Benedict call out behind her or Posy telling her to wait. She moved as quickly as she could down the hall and upstairs towards her room, not stopping until she had made it. Once the door was shut and locked, Sophie collapsed to the ground, still clutching the doorknob and unable to keep her sobs from escaping.

She'd been so stupid. Stupid enough to believe she could find love and happiness. She knew any intelligent gentleman would have nothing to do with her now. Knew Benedict wanted nothing to do with her. 

She tried to breathe but only sobbed more with each exhale. A quick rapid knock at the door and a "Sophie?" told her Posy was on the other side. She ignored her. She didn't want to see or speak to anyone. 

The cold metal of the engagement ring was felt against her wet cheeks. It was nothing but a cruel and cold reminder of what she had just gone through. Of what she had undoubtedly lost. It was over. 

She ripped the ring off her finger and threw it across the room as she sobbed. 

<+>

And here he had thought his brother’s engagement dinner with Edwina Sharma had gone poorly. 

“Sophie!” Benedict called out but she was already gone.

She’d fled from the room before he’d had the chance to move, Posy rushing out after her. The way she had looked, tears running down her face while she refused to look at him, all he wanted to do was hold her. To let her cry on him for as long as she needed. When he moved towards the exit his brother stood and stopped him.

“Anthony-” he started, but his brother shook his head.

He couldn’t be mad. Surprised, yes, but not mad and not at Sophie. She never asked for any of this. And he should have realized when he was meeting with the earl the physical similarities between them. 

Their eyes. Their eyes were exactly the same. And while much of the earl’s hair was streaked with gray and white, he’d had the same golden blonde hair as Sophie when he was young. A distant relative wouldn’t have that. Wouldn’t look like the many Gunningworth family members whose portraits hung throughout Penwood House. 

The earl was still seething with rage, and with Sophie gone, it seemed to have only grown. At himself or Lady Penwood, Benedict couldn’t tell. Lord Penwood appeared to be focused on taking continuous deep breaths as he glared at his wife. 

“You will pack your bags and return to Penwood Park tomorrow,” he ordered calmly. “You and Rosamund.”

“But Lord Penwood, I did n-” Rosamund started.

“Both of you!” he confirmed, slamming his fist down on the table again before she had a chance to beg. 

The countess sat silently next to him, her face practically purple from rage and chest heaving. Benedict had been prepared to throttle her when she had continued to speak of Sophie the way she had. One more word and he couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from grabbing her. The expression of stunned shock on her face was slowly returning to anger as she glared icily at the earl.

“You never forgave me for not giving you an heir,” she said quietly. “That’s why you did this? That’s why you gave her a season-”

“I gave her a season because I wanted to get her married and away from you ,” the earl snapped back, stopping Araminta from speaking further. He sighed again, exasperated. “I never blamed you for not giving me a son, Araminta, it wasn’t your fault.” 

The countess opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out.

“But I am done, Araminta,” the earl stood as he spoke. “Done. Do you understand? From this day, you and I shall live permanently separated. You will move to the dowager lodgings upon your return to the estate. You will still be granted your income but I will only pay for one more season for your daughters. After that, if they have failed to find a suitable husband, I will find them myself.”

Rosamund had already left the room in outrage.

“Whomever your daughters marry you best be prepared to spend all your time away from Penwood Park. And I do not feel I need to remind you what the consequences will be if you ever speak of Sophie’s heritage again, to anyone, am I clear?” the earl added. 

“Yes, Lord Penwood ,” Araminta replied.

“Then you may take your leave, Araminta,” he returned through gritted teeth. 

Araminta threw her napkin over dramatically onto the table as she stood, not bothering to push her chair in. 

“You’re welcome, Mr. Bridgerton,” she said over her shoulder. 

“Excuse me?” Benedict asked. She was speaking to him?

Amarinta huffed, shaking her head in disbelief at him. 

“Well, I couldn’t just sit by and allow you to be entrapped by that harlot,” Araminta repeated. “You're welcome.”

If his brother wasn’t currently preventing him from moving he might have thrown himself at the countess. Strangled her if had the ability to. Benedict's hands curled into tight fists as he tried to focus and not allow himself to be overcome by rage. 

“I can assure you Lady Penwood, I did not need any assistance from you,” he gritted out. 

“The only reason that girl was able to get her claws into you was because of her dowry. You should at least be fully aware of what you were about to marry,” Lady Penwood added. That way she continued speaking of Sophie made his blood boil. 

“I knew you to be spiteful, Araminta, but this?” Violet remarked. Araminta only rolled her eyes.

Benedict was shaking with rage. Sophie had lived with this woman – been living with – for years. How long had this been happening?    

“I was never marrying her for the money. I would have married Sophie had her dowry been nothing more than a hundred pounds and if you think I care about where she comes from — who her parents are — you are just as mistaken, Lady Penwood. You only further proved to me my love for Miss Beckett and the wish I have to spend the rest of my days with her, if it is only to be able to keep her from you. You are a spineless woman and your cruelty has only shown me the vileness of your character,” Benedict informed the countess. Before she could say another word, which he knew would cause him to finally snap, he roughly pulled himself from his brother’s grip and exited out the dining room. 

He did not know where Sophie’s room was, but as he made his way up the grand staircase he spotted Posy standing outside the door he assumed to be it. He needed to speak with her, to assure her this all meant nothing to him, but the expression on Posy’s face told him that would be a difficult task. 

“She won’t answer me,” Posy whispered to him.

Benedict knocked gently on the door. Soft muffled sobs could be heard coming from behind it. “Sophie?” 

No response. The sounds of sobs diminished for a moment. He tried again.

“Sophie, please.” 

Still nothing. 

All he wanted was for her to open the door so he could comfort her. To take her in his arms and assure her she would never be hurt again. The seconds passed and still there was no response or sounds of movement within the room. 

“I’m sorry. About my mother,” Posy whispered. 

“Has she always been like that? Towards Sophie?” he asked.

Posy’s eyes turned down towards the floor in shame. “Yes.”

“And the earl?”

She shook her head vigorously. “No, no. I do not believe he’s ever done anything cruel towards her. They hardly interact.” 

“Did he know?” Benedict was trying to gauge how angry he should be.

“My mother usually saves it for when he’s gone. They’ve argued over it, but when Rosamund and I started our seasons and Sophie usually staying in the country with him…the worst of it stopped.”

Benedict clenched his fists. He knew the countess would be gone in the morning but all he wanted was to take Sophie as far from this home as soon as possible. If she would just open the door.

He tried once more. “Sophie…Sophie please open the door.”

She wasn’t going to. He knew that as much as he hated it. Not tonight. He didn’t want to leave her there, in this home, but if she refused to let him. Well, he couldn’t do anything. 

He sighed. “I’ll come back in the morning.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Bridgerton,” Posy repeated. 

He shook his head. “This is not your fault, Miss Reiling.”

There was nothing else he could do except head back downstairs. He was unsure where the countess had gone, he didn’t hear or see her come up the stairs however the upstairs was separated into an east and west wing. Sophie’s room being on the eastern side of the home. And the countess was no longer downstairs. His brother and Kate were the only ones standing in the foyar ahead of him. 

“That horrid, horrible woman. Horrible. Horrible! She’s a vile, horrid woman and I cannot believe she did that. Who does that? She did that for no other reason but her own spitefulness” Kate, in a state of righteous fury, spoke quietly and rapidly towards his brother. His brother in turn merely patted her arm gently.

“Kate, for the sake of our child, which you are currently carrying, will you please breathe,” Anthony whispered. Kate took one deep breath before returning to her quiet, angry venting of Araminta Gunningworth. Anthony took a deep breath himself. 

Kate continued until she spotted him coming their way. “How did it go? Did you speak to her?”

Benedict shook his head. “I do not believe she wishes to speak with me currently. Or see me for that matter.” 

“Give her time. That is what she needs right now,” Anthony told him. 

Glancing around, Benedict realized one of their party members was missing. “Where’s mother?”

Anthony nodded to his left and Benedict followed to see his mother and Lord Penwood quietly speaking in the parlor. 

“She may be trying to get everyone’s story straight. I am not sure where you stand on the engagement-” Anthony answered. 

“I'm still marrying her,” Benedict snapped. He took a deep breath. This wasn’t his brother’s fault. “Sorry, but…If she’ll have me that is.”

Anthony gave him a sympathetic look. Kate gave him a supportive pat on the arm. He knew they both understood a little of what he was going through now. 

“Alright,” his mother announced as she entered the foyar. “I’ve assured Lord Penwood that nothing of which occurred tonight will leave this home. It will remain, solely, amongst us.”

As she explained the story she’d conceived with him, Benedict glanced over her shoulder towards the earl still standing in the parlor. The man had his back turned away from them, but Benedict could still see he held a crystal glass tumbler of brandy in his hand. He was drinking from. 

While Benedict couldn’t ignore the anger he felt towards the man right now, a small part of him recognized what he was experiencing. Shame. 

Well, I guess I wasn't as good of a guardian as I should have been.

“And Sophie?” his mother asked.

He looked back to her and shook his head.

His mother also gave him a sympathetic look. “It will be alright, sweetheart. It will be alright.”

The night had been a disaster. They hadn’t even made it to the third course before everything happened. 

He planned to return tomorrow. He couldn’t even wait, unsure if he’d be able to sleep after this. There was no desire to leave the Penwood House until he knew Sophie was okay and hated having to leave her. He just prayed she would see him, speak with him, when he returned tomorrow.

<+>

The next few days were spent confined to her bed, locked in her room. She refused to leave.

Sophie had no desire to do anything. She planned to spend her remaining days wilting beneath the covers of her bed. 

The maids brought her trays of food that she barely touched. She’d gathered enough strength to ask the maids to ready a bath for her the night before in the hopes it would help her feel better. 

Posy came by each day to check on her, but Sophie didn’t want to see anyone. Her stepsister slid Whistledown papers under the door in the hopes it would help. So far, no word of her bastard status or engagement being called off had been reported. Just that she had fallen ill. Posy also got her up to speed on what happened after she’d left the room, telling her from behind the door. 

Araminta had left already. Packed all of her items and returned to the Penwood Estate the morning after. An excuse of illness and need for the country air to recover as a cover for anyone who asked. That was what they were telling people about Sophie too, that she had taken ill as well. A temporary delay on the engagement till she was healthy again. The earl had changed his mind about sending Rosamund with her mother. With the assurance she would behave herself for the remainder of the season she’d been allowed to stay. 

Frankly, Sophie wasn’t sure what would happen with the engagement now. The announcement had been made already once Lady Whistledown had picked up on the news and the marriage articles had been finalized the day of their disastrous dinner. For him to back out now would be a scandal for him and his family. 

And it was all her fault. 

He kept coming to the Penwood House to call on her, most likely to get the ring back. To tell her he never wished to see her again. That he hated her. Posy would come tell her and ask if she wished to speak with him, but each time Sophie declined, trying to delay the inevitable. 

“I’ll tell him you are still not feeling well,” Posy said again softly. 

He stopped calling on her after almost a week had passed. Violet came next, and then Kate, but a tight knot in Sophie’s stomach prevented her from wanting to face any of them. Shame, guilt, anger she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she just wanted to disappear. To never see any of them again. 

But then there was Eloise. 

Eloise Bridgerton did not bother to call on her and wait. Sophie wasn’t sure it was in the woman’s nature. Instead, she stormed into her room one Wednesday afternoon, almost a week and half it had all gone to hell, threw open the curtains and ripped the duvet off of her before she even realized she was there. A maid could be heard yelling after her, who then stopped in the doorway to watch, panicked, as Eloise went about the room as if it were her own.  

Sophie slowly realized she had forgotten to lock the door that morning. 

“Alright, get up. We both know you aren’t ill,” the younger Bridgerton ordered as she went through Sophie’s room. She lifted one of the Whistledown papers laying in a pile on her desk, shaking her head and muttering “You shouldn’t be reading this,” before moving along. Opening the closet and skimming through her gowns hanging within. 

“Eloise?” Sophie was surprised (and terrified) to see her. Even though she was in her nightgown, she still grabbed at the loose blanket beneath the duvet to cover herself. “What are you doing here?”

“I had thought I had grown used to my brother’s tortured artist persona but apparently even I have no patience for it. That man has been exhausting to deal with and I will no longer put up with it. So your refusal to end this engagement has gone on long enough,” Eloise informed her, tossing a gown she picked onto the bed. “Meaning you and I will finish this ourselves then.” 

“Eloise-” she started but Eloise had already ordered the maid, still standing in the doorway to help her dress. 

“My mother told me what happened. Finally.”

Sophie closed her eyes. “I know you must be angry with me-”

A sudden loud laugh was the response she got. Opening her eyes she found Eloise staring at her as though she had just said something of utter nonsense. “I’m not angry with you, Sophie. Well, I am a little but that’s mainly because of Benedict. The both of you have essentially abandoned me to face the ton on my own and Benedict has always been the most annoying individual to be around when he’s sulking.”

Sophie stared at her silently and Eloise sighed. 

“Besides, I’ve been told greater lies by older friends. And I understand why you didn’t tell anyone. About your parents.”

“I’m sorry, Eloise.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Eloise replied. “But if you really, truly, wish to make it up to me then you will talk to Benedict.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Sophie told her. Lifting her arms, the maid, Kitty, threw the sky blue dress Eloise had pulled out over her and began buttoning up the back. “Is he upset with me?”

“More upset with himself,” Eloise replied. 

It was her fault. Sophie sniffled, trying to compose herself as Kitty brushed her hair, before finally breaking. Kitty stepped back to give her a moment, unsure what to do, glancing towards Eloise. Eloise was just as surprised, asking her what was wrong.

“I lost the ring,” she admitted, tears slipping down her cheeks. 

The moment it had left her hand when she threw it, she’d regretted it. After throwing the ring that night Sophie hadn’t been able to locate where it had rolled off to. She’d almost torn the room apart in her search.  

“I-I don’t know if I-” Sophie started. 

Eloise shook her head, cutting her off. Placing her hands gently on Sophie’s shoulders. “No, no, I won’t hear it. I will help you look for it, alright? We will find it. And if we must, you and I will just turn this room upside down in our search.”

Taking a deep breath, Sophie nodded. 

Eloise smiled softly. “The overdramatics of you two. Honestly Sophie, you might actually be perfect for one another.”

With Kitty’s help, she and Eloise went through the room looking for the ruby ring. Looking under the furniture and the corners of the room, every place Sophie had already looked a million times. Every crack and crevice in the wood was searched.

“This is hopeless,” Sophie told her after minutes of searching. She’d already believed it was lost, another attempt to find it wouldn’t change that.

“Don’t lose hope yet, Sophie,” Eloise returned, eyes glued on the wooden floors. “If I was a little engagement ring, where would I be?” 

“Found it!” Kitty exclaimed, jumping up her hand out towards them. The ring pinched between her index finger and thumb. 

On edge already, Sophie almost started crying again. She felt relief for the first time in days seeing the ring again. Kitty gave it a quick clean with her apron before handing it to her. Taking it back, Sophie held it as though it were as delicate as a butterfly’s wing, cradling it in her hand. 

“See, told you we’d find it,” Eloise said. 

She didn’t know if she should put it back on if she was going to have to return it. Kitty returned to pinning up her hair as Eloise chatted on to her about what they would do once she was ready. 

“Benedict is probably still sulking at his lodgings. Has been for the past few days. If we go together we’ll have to go through the back, but I can try sending a messenger,” Eloise suggested. 

Sophie only fiddled with the fabric of her dress nervously. She still had no interest in seeing Benedict. Fearing what would happen. Fearing rejection.

“Sophie, I meant it when I said it. He isn’t upset with you,” Eloise told her from where she sat on the end of Sophie’s unmade bed. 

Sophie didn’t know what to say. 

“Do you want to end the engagement?” Eloise asked bluntly but with a soft tone. 

Her eyes shot up, looking at Eloise from the mirror as she sat behind her. “I don’t…I just don’t know.”

“Benedict doesn’t.”

“Benedict will be ruined. Your family will be ruined, if people discover who I am.”

Eloise raised an eyebrow towards her, unbothered. “My family has survived quite a few scandals.”

Sophie recoiled, remembering how Eloise had only recently just recovered from her own scandal. Whistledown had reported her associating with political radicals during the previous season and it had taken almost a year for the worst of it to diminish. It hadn’t bothered Sophie, she thought it was exciting how bold Eloise had been to attend, but she’d noticed the judgemental looks others gave her when she began spending her evenings with Eloise. How the other ladies would snub her. From what Sophie had gathered, much of Eloise’s anger towards Penelope Featherington seemed to stem from that incident, although she still refused to tell her what exactly had happened between them. 

“I did not mean it-” Sophie started.

“I know,” Eloise assured. “I meant you should not worry so much about what others think. It will do you no good.” 

She was right, but being an earl’s bastard was different from conversing with radicals. To be born out of wedlock and for it to be discovered after she married a man of high standing. Her dowry would only make the rumors worse.

“If it makes you feel better, Benedict didn’t realize your dowry was so big,” Eloise supplied.

Sophie frowned at her. “What do you mean?” 

“Your dowry. For three whole months he thought it was only a few hundred pounds, the idiot,” Eloise explained. “I love my brother, I do, but he can sometimes be completely oblivious to what is right in front of him.”

Benedict thought her dowry was small? It had been the budding beginnings of her attraction towards him. Reflecting back on her first conversation with him, she remembered him being sympathetic, supportive in fact. He told her any smart gentlemen would be able to overlook it if they truly cared for her, something she’d found sweet and wonderful at the time. Had made her feel hopeful. 

“What I am saying is he would have married you regardless of your dowry’s size,” Eloise added. “And if he was prepared to do that, I do not believe he would have changed his mind after one family dinner.” 

The fluttering of hope she’d felt in her stomach when the ring was put in her hand was starting to build. Maybe Eloise was right.

“Alright,” Sophie told her.

They decided to go to Benedict’s, quietly. Sending a messenger was discussed but it would take too much time. Sophie feared her nerves would make her back track if she didn’t go now. And frankly, she didn’t want to have her conversation with Benedict in the Penwood House. Too many negative experiences had happened there. 

Even if they were engaged, they were not married and without a married chaperone, no risks should be taken. They would have to be quiet and careful as they made their way over. 

On her way out of her room, they came across the earl making his way upstairs. He froze when he saw the two. As did they. 

“Sophie. You left your room,” the earl stated, stunned.

“Good morning, Lord Penwood,” Sophie bobbed awkwardly. She hasn’t seen or spoken with him during her self-imposed isolation. She’d hoped to just slip out without having to see him.

“I have been able to convince dear Sophie to take a walk with me, Lord Penwood,” Eloise lied. “I felt the fresh air would do her good.”  

The earl blinked. “That’s…good. How do you feel, Sophie?”

“I’m feeling much better, your lordship,” she answered. 

She probably didn’t need to refer to him so formally now that the cat was out of the bag, but the earl had never really allowed her to call him father. It had always been an unspoken rule. How was she supposed to address him now? 

“Well, good day ladies,” the earl said after an awkward pause, letting them pass by him. They both nodded their good days as they went down the stairs. 

They made it to the landing before Eloise practically dragged her down the rest of the stairs and out the front door. She was practically thrown into the carriage by Eloise before they made their way through Mayfair to Benedict’s lodgings.

Benedict’s lodgings were a short distance from Number 5. Just a block. Sophie had walked past his lodgings many times but she’d never seen the inside of it. She’d always wondered what it looked like and there had been a tug at times when she’d walked by to go in. 

There was a back door, down a slim alley, that the Bridgerton sister’s typically took when they snuck in to bother Benedict, which Sophie was beginning to suspect was why Eloise had picked the light blue dress for her to wear. She had handed her a cloak in the same color when they got in the carriage. 

Eloise led her to the front room. She moved ahead of her though, heading over to the windows to close the blinds before motioning her it was safe to enter. 

“I’ll go find him,” she told her. “Just wait here.”

Sophie quietly stayed seated on the settee as Eloise left in search of her brother. She heard her heading through the home, opening and closing doors. There was a surprised “Eloise!” after the fourth door Sophie heard slammed open. It then shut again and all she could hear was muffled arguing. She couldn’t make out any of it until the door opened again and there was a loud yell from Eloise. 

“You should be grateful I did not bring mother to see you like this. Get dressed!”

A quick door slam and rapid steps from down the hall coming towards her and Eloise reappeared in the room. 

“He should be ready soon,” she said with a huff. 

They both patiently waited for Benedict, Eloise helped to pass the time with small talk. It helped Sophie to focus on something else. Her nerves had returned when she’d entered, though she knew they hadn’t disappeared to begin with. The countdown to seeing Benedict again made them flare up, her heart rate steadily increasing the more time passed on but the small talk helped. A little. 

She wasn’t sure how long had passed before Benedict appeared in the doorway, glaring at his younger sister as he buttoned up a familiar gold colored waistcoat over his shirt. His hair needed a comb through and he needed a shave as well.

“I’m unsure why this could not-” he stopped when he saw her sitting on the settee. “Sophie?”

Ah, Sophie thought. Eloise must not have told him she was here. 

“Hi,” she provided weakly.

“I’m going to trust that I can leave you two alone,” Eloise said as she headed to the door. Giving her brother a look as she passed. “Behave.”

Benedict gave his sister an annoyed look as she walked out, closing the door behind her. Pressed against the door, he waited a few seconds after she had left to speak.

“How are you feeling?”

Sophie nodded. “Better.” 

“Good,” he said.

An awkward silence descended again between them, neither truly knowing what to say. Trying to break it they both ended up speaking at the same time. 

“I want you to know-” Benedict started.

“I am sorry about-” Sophie said at the same time. 

They both stopped, flustered. 

“Please…” Benedict said, motioning for her to speak first.

Sophie took a deep breath. “I’m sorry about not telling you. I just did not know how to explain it to you and I understand if you want nothing to do with me.” 

She fiddled with the ring on her finger, spinning it around. Prepared to take it off. 

“Sophie,” Benedict moved towards her, grasping her hands in his as he crouched down in front of her. “You have nothing to apologize for.” 

“But I do! I wasn’t trying to entrap you, Benedict, I swear. I need you to understand that. You spent all these months courting me and…it was the most wonderful period of my life, it was, but now…I will do anything to guarantee your family will not endure scandal because of me,” Sophie babbled. 

Benedict frowned. “My mother and Lord Penwood have been rather successful at keeping all of this quiet, Sophie. I do not believe you should be worried.”

He was being so kind, but so oblivious. Those gray eyes that reminded her of an early dawn sky were filled with sincerity and love. It broke her that he couldn’t see what she already knew and feared would happen.

Sophie took another deep breath. “If you marry me there will always be the risk of Araminta revealing the truth. Or Rosamund. Or anyone who figures it out. And you cannot be the one to end the engagement, not without repercussions for you and your family. I-I can end it and…and I’ll tell everyone it was amicable. My decision. Not yours. I’ll carry the scandal.”

<+>

Benedict pulled away from her, stung by her words, but his body still gripped her hands in his. Unable to release her. 

She did not want him? No, that wasn’t it. She was scared. The expression on her face was fear. Frightened, they’d be ruined if they married. 

The rage towards Araminta Gunningworth that had been at a low simmer these last few days began to boil again. How much pain has she caused Sophie? He needed to know. 

“Sophie, are you asking to end our betrothal?” he wanted certainty, even when he knew it was untrue. 

Sophie nodded shakily. She took a deep breath. “If it spares you any hardships-”

“I’m asking if you want to end it for your sake. Not mine. That you wish our engagement to end because you truly wish to,” Sophie hesitated, which was all he needed. He gripped her hands tightly and pulled them towards him. “Sophie, all I wish, still, is to marry you. I spent almost every day of the past week trying to tell you that.”

Sophie sniffed, her eyes now red-rimmed. “But-”

“Nothing could change how I feel about you. Not your parents. Not your dowry. Nothing,” he told her, reaching out to brush a tear before it slipped down her cheek. “If anyone should be apologizing, it should be me.” 

“What do you mean?”

“I should have said something. Instead, I just sat there while that woman spoke about you like that. The way she-I should have done more. I should have stopped her, defended you, and I didn’t. Sitting there like a fool, I’m sorry, Sophie. I am so sorry,” Benedict told her. “You deserve better.”

“I’m not angry with you,” Sophie told him.

“How exactly can I be a good husband if I can’t even defend you?” he told her. He couldn’t even look at her as he spoke. 

The guilt had come the morning after. When he’d had enough time to go over everything that had happened, he realized how little he had done. Yes, he’d been stunned by what had been revealed, but even the earl had done more to defend her name than he had. 

Her hands were on his cheeks suddenly, dragging his attention back. She pushed a curl back from his forehead. 

Sophie smiled weakly. “We make quite a pair, do we not?” 

Benedict would never understand how she could be so angelic, lovely, with red-rimmed eyes and an air of sadness around her. He wanted to marry her right now. Screw etiquette. 

He pulled her towards him, moving to sit next to her on the settee and taking her into his arms. She rested her head on his chest, her pinned curls tickling his chin. Wrapping his arms around her, one hand on her back and the other stroking her hair gently. 

“Eloise told me about the dowry. Of you not knowing,” Sophie mumbled playfully. 

Benedict groaned, internally cursing his sister’s name. 

“How did you not know?” Sophie asked.

He sighed. “In my defense, I was so focused on you these past months I just forgot to ask.”

She giggled in his arms, fiddling with the fabric of his shirt and rolling the cotton between her fingers. She sighed, leaning into him.

“I still want to marry you,” he repeated after a few moments. “If you will still have me.”

She nodded against his chest. “I do. I just-”

He gently shushed her. “I’m not worried about that. I believe Lord Penwood has made sure the countess will not speak of you ever again. To anyone. And my mother is already more than ready to threaten her if she sees her again.” 

“But what if someone figures it out?” she asked, pulling back. “What if someone realizes-?”

“We will deal with it then if it even happens.”

“You’d truly saddle yourself with an earl’s bastard? Forever?” 

“To the woman I love?” he corrected. “Most definitely.”

She sighed, a small smile twisting the corners of her lip upwards. She shook her head. “I do not deserve you.”

He pressed a quick kiss to her lips, temptation getting the best of him. “Again, you’re wrong. I am the one who does not deserve you.” 

His kiss has seemingly set something off in Sophie. Cupping his face in her hands, she moved forward to kiss him. Gentle and quick before she kissed him again. And then again. And then once more. Her fingers moved through his hair as she pulled him closer to her. 

It was dizzying, but he finally had her. An opportunity he would not waste. The temptation was too much, Benedict’s hand moved down her back and over her thigh, tracing the outline of her body and curves. The infernal fabric of her dress, however, was in the way. But Sophie leaned back into the settee, allowing Benedict to move forward, so he was over her. The change in position helped move the fabric out of the way quickly, pushing it up. Able to finally get his hand under, stroking the soft skin of her leg. 

Sophie gasped into his mouth as Benedict moved his hand higher. She was arching her back, her chest pressed against his, her kisses becoming rougher. Her hands-on his neck and head now, keeping him against her.

He was so close, his hand right at the top of her inner thigh when a pounding at the door broke them apart. 

“Alright in there?” Eloise’s voice asked from the other side. “It’s awfully quiet.” 

Benedict snorted, keeping his voice quiet. “Of course.”

A faint but familiar flush had spread across Sophie’s cheeks as she chewed her lip. She let out a quiet giggle. He smiled back, giving her one more kiss before he pulled away to stand up so she would have the space she needed to make herself presentable. 

“What are we going to do now?” Sophie asked quietly as she fixed her hair. “With…the wedding?”

The banns had been delayed due to the story of Sophie’s illness, but now they could just notify the minister it was back on. Benedict was almost grateful Araminta had made her objections known in Penwood House before and not with the minister. With her no longer in London, and if this was Sophie’s way of telling him, their wedding would move forward undisturbed. 

“I will assume this is your way of telling me you wish to marry,” Benedict joked.

Sophie smirked slyly. “I would marry you today if I could.”

His heart stuttered in his chest. Benedict would ride to the Archbishop today if that was what Sophie wanted. 

Another knock at the door. “Benedict? Sophie?”

“Hold on!” Benedict yelled, heading to the door before Eloise opened it herself.

Thankfully, the door opened out into the hallway, allowing Benedict to step into the doorway and prevent his sister from storming in. 

“All good?” she asked, smiling sweetly at him. 

“You are the worst,” Benedict replied. 

Eloise only smiled. “You two have had enough time to patch things up. I have to get Sophie back home before anyone gets suspicious.” 

With that, Sophie appeared behind him. “I should probably go.”

Benedict sighed, stepping aside to let Sophie pass, but as her petite form slipped by, he grabbed her wrist. Eloise had already headed down the hall, yelling “Good-bye, brother,” over her shoulder to him.

“I will come to see you tomorrow,” he whispered. He’d make sure the earl was aware of what had happened. Not the kissing, but the reconciliation. 

He’d also have to update his mother on what had occurred. She’d be happy to hear they were still marrying. She’d been running around Mayfair for the past week placating Genevieve, the florist, and the minister with excuses to give them time to resolve their troubles. And he knew he owed his mother an easy, stress-free wedding. 

Sophie nodded. “…I love you.” 

Oh, she was going to be the death of him. 

“I love you too,” he replied, giving her hand one final squeeze before letting it slip out of his grasp.