Chapter Text
Benedict Bridgerton will never tire of kissing Sophie Baek…Sophie Gun. Soon to be Sophie Bridgerton. Especially now, with the threat of them being torn apart abated, finally.
She pulls away from his kiss, not from a lack of want, but simply to take a breath. He is astonished that he will get to be her husband.
Their moment together is fleeting, he knows. Despite their previous intimate connections, Benedict is aware that now that he and Sophie are officially engaged, his mother will insist on propriety.
Still, he will relish this moment with his fiancee for as long as it shall last.
“It’s a beautiful ring,” Sophie sighs, admiring the piece of jewelry newly adorning her left hand. Benedict makes note to thank his mother again for the wonderful gift she gave him and his fiancee in giving them her grandmother’s ring.
Her smile is wider than he’s maybe ever seen it, and while some gentlemen might guffaw at the perceived shallowness of a woman in love with a jewel, Benedict is aware that that ring means more to Sophie than it would most. It is a symbol of her being loved, openly, for the first time in her life. He is in awe of the luck he has received to be the man to give that to her.
Benedict turns to her slowly, still almost disbelieving.
“You are quite certain,” he says quietly, “that you meant what you said in there?”
Sophie blinks up at him, a small smile at the corner of her mouth.
“I did say yes, Benedict,” she teases.
He exhales a soft laugh, something breathless and boyish.
“I know,” he says. “I simply find I enjoy hearing you confirm it.”
Sophie rolls her eyes with gentle affection.
“You are ridiculous.”
“And engaged,” Benedict says brightly. “To you.”
She laughs then—an unrestrained sound that seems to wrap itself around him like sunlight.
Benedict reaches for her hand again, intertwining their fingers as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
“You must forgive me,” he says softly. “My mind has not quite caught up with the evening.”
Sophie tilts her head.
“Oh?”
“I asked you to marry me,” he says. “You accepted. And now I find myself wondering how I managed such extraordinary luck.”
Her expression softens.
“Luck had very little to do with it.”
“No?”
“No,” Sophie grins again. “Stubbornness, perhaps.”.
“That sounds far more like me,” Benedict responds, his signature smirk plastered upon his face.
They begin walking without realizing it, slowly along the lantern-lit drive while the last of the carriages depart.
He finds it remarkable how with her, silence is not a threat. The mere presence of her body next to his brings him a calmness he’s never known before. With his siblings’ marriages, Benedict could never quite conceptualize just how devoted they were, not until now. The last months and especially the last few days have shown him just how life-changing love is.
After a moment Sophie squeezes his hand, and he looks down at her.
“You were very brave tonight,” she says quietly.
Benedict frowns faintly. He resents the idea that loving her is something that would require one to be brave, if only because loving her is the easiest thing he has ever done.
“I simply spoke the truth.”
“Before the Queen,” she reminds him.
He shrugs lightly before stopping and pulling both her hands into his.
Benedict raises their entwined fingers to his lips, kissing her hands once more, slowly, reverently.
“Sophie, I hope you know I would marry you regardless of tonight’s outcome,” he starts. “Had the Queen not accepted our ruse, you and I would still be together. You are the most important person in my life. I am grateful we do not have to sacrifice my family, but please tell me you know, I absolutely would have done it in a heartbeat if it meant eternity with you.”
Her breath catches just slightly at the matter-of-fact way he says it.
Before she can answer, the doors behind them burst open.
“Benedict!”
He closes his eyes briefly.
“Ah,” he murmurs. “The cavalry.”
The Bridgerton family in attendance spill out onto the steps—Colin grinning broadly, Penelope’s hand in his beaming at the pair, and Eloise already halfway down the stairs toward them.
And at their center stands his mother, whose expression can only be described as radiant.
“Come here, both of you,” Violet says.
They obey immediately.
Violet clasps Sophie’s hands warmly.
“My dear girl,” she says. “I believe this calls for celebration.”
“It certainly does,” Penelope smiles.
“Congratulations, Sophie,” Eloise says. “Though are you quite certain you want to spend the rest of your life with my brother?”
Colin steps forward next, clapping Benedict firmly on the shoulder.
“Well done,” he says simply.
Benedict nods at his siblings, grateful for how easily they have accepted Sophie and how freely they show her their love too.
But Violet is not finished.
“Oh, there is so much to discuss,” she says briskly. “Wedding plans, announcements, invitations—”
She stops suddenly.
Her eyes move slowly between Benedict and Sophie.
Then she gives Benedict a very particular look.
“However,” she continues, “before any of that begins, there is one matter to address.”
Benedict narrows his eyes slightly.
“What matter?”
Violet smiles sweetly as she grabs her son's arms.
“You will not be returning to Bridgerton House tonight.”
He blinks.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You are engaged now,” Violet says calmly. “Which means propriety must be observed until the wedding.”
Benedict stares at her, knowing that his protests will do no good, but he will not go down without a fight.
“You cannot possibly mean—”
“You will stay at your bachelor lodgings.”
Colin bursts out laughing.
Eloise attempts—unsuccessfully—to suppress a smile.
Benedict looks deeply betrayed.
“I live at Bridgerton House.”
“Not tonight,” Violet replies with a smirk. “You will take residence in your bachelor lodgings for the time being. End of discussion.”
He turns helplessly to Sophie.
“You see what I endure?”
Sophie is trying—and failing—not to laugh.
“I believe your mother is correct.”
“Of course you do,” Benedict mutters.
Violet pats his arm.
“Do not look so tragic, my dear. The wedding will arrive soon enough.”
Benedict sighs dramatically, “This is the greatest injustice I have ever suffered.”
“Goodnight, Benedict,” Eloise says cheerfully.
The family begin moving toward their carriage.
Violet steps aside for a moment, to let the two young lovers have their goodbye. She simply watches them.
Her second son stands beneath the lantern light beside Sophie, his head bent slightly toward her as though the rest of the world had faded from existence. There is a steadiness in him now that Violet had not seen before. It is not merely happiness, but direction. For so many years, Benedict had drifted between passions, chasing inspiration wherever it might lead, never quite certain where he belonged. Yet standing beside Sophie, he looks certain of everything.
Violet feels a familiar warmth spread through her chest, the same quiet certainty she had once felt when she looked at her own husband. Benedict has found it at last, his purpose, his partner, a love that will anchor him through every season of life, just as she had found long ago with Edmund. And for that, Violet could not have been more grateful.
Benedict lingers beside Sophie for a moment longer.
He lifts her hand gently and presses a kiss to her knuckles one final time tonight.
“Sleep well,” he whispers.
“You as well.”
“And try not to miss me terribly.”
Sophie smiles.
“I shall do my best. I love you, Benedict.”
He studies her face for a moment, as though committing it to memory.
“I love you too, Sophie.”
Then he steps back reluctantly and heads toward the waiting carriage that will take him to his lodgings.
Sophie watches him go.
When she turns again, Violet is standing beside her.
The older woman’s expression has softened into something warm and deeply affectionate.
“You must forgive him,” Violet says gently.
“For what?”
“For looking at you as though you hung the moon.”
Sophie feels her cheeks warm.
“I suspect he has always been a little dramatic.”
Violet chuckles softly.
“That is quite true.”
For a moment they stand together in the quiet glow of the lanterns, before Violet reaches out and squeezes Sophie’s hands.
“I want you to know something,” she says.
Sophie looks at her with the greatest admiration.
“You have made my son very happy.”
Emotion flickers briefly across Sophie’s face. “He has done the same for me.”
Violet nods, clearly pleased.
“Well then,” she says warmly, “I am glad to hear it. Afterall, my husband and I raised gentlemen, didn't we?”
She loops her arm through Sophie’s.
“Come along, my dear. You are in need of a great night’s rest. Tomorrow, the wedding plans shall begin.”
And together they walk toward the waiting Bridgerton carriage, the night ahead full of laughter, celebration, and the beginning of something entirely new.