Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Sophie Baek didn't quite get what her sister, Posy, was into.

Admittedly, Sophie had a bit of an…anime phase in her teenage years—and it did remain an occasional, guilty pleasure of hers even until now—but she had never fully submerged herself into the subculture. Her basically becoming a maid for her ex-stepmother, Araminta, probably had a hand in that. Most of her blurry memories from her teenage years were her watching pirated episodes of Ouran High School Host Club on her busted Samsung phone, the massive crack across it already doing no favors to the permanent 360p quality the screen seemed to have. It was a miracle she could even read the subtitles—too stubborn to watch the English dub of the show.

After her high school graduation, she hadn't had much time to even think about watching anime or even indulging herself in her sillier interests—she had to work her ass off to get the hell out of Araminta's grasp, no matter what it took.

So, here she was now.

Fully independent from her ex-stepmother, living in a modest apartment of her very own making, and working an office job she didn't completely hate. That was practically every millennial's threadbare dream at this point, and she had managed to fulfill it.

Was she happy?

Well, that was…a difficult question to answer.

But she was at least employed, fed, and free. That was more than enough for her.

And not to mention—she had a great number of friends! And they weren't just officemates! (God, the bar was bleak.)

Anyways, back to her sister, Posy.

Posy had been the only one to keep in contact with Sophie after she left the Li household—and Posy was the only one Sophie had kept in contact with, too. There was no way in hell Sophie would even think of keeping contact with Araminta, and Rosamund was basically turning into a clone of Araminta, only slightly shorter and with more colorful, flashier tastes in clothing. So, no. No way in hell was she going to even bother and try to keep in contact with those two.

Posy, though? Somehow the complete opposite of her mother and sister. She was sweet, kind, and thoughtful, if not a little clumsy—it was a wonder how she turned out the way she did when she'd been raised by Araminta all the same.

Either way, Posy was now in college at age twenty, pursuing a veterinary career, and Sophie couldn't be any more proud of her. (And, well, she had a slight hand in that, anyways. She'd tutored Posy on days Araminta didn't even want to bother, and had treated her out to eat after her exams.)

Posy, apart from busying herself with her studies, was, much like Sophie had been, also an avid enjoyer of anime. The big difference between her and teenaged Sophie? Posy lived in her love for the genre. She often carried around this thing called an ita-bag—Sophie still doesn't…really fully get it, but she thought it was cute!—and she had it decorated so beautifully that Sophie frequently missed the 2D pretty boys displayed proudly on the clear insert.

It was cute, though. And Sophie knew Posy really wasn't treated any better at home by Araminta because of her interests—so who was Sophie to judge Posy?

But…goodness, Sophie really had to learn how to start saying no to her sometimes.

"A…a butler café?" Sophie stammered out, entirely lost on where exactly Posy had dragged her out to for their weekly day out together. Sophie looked up at the signage on the building. Patisserie Whistledown, it said in pretty, flowy cursive that she had to squint at.

The building was decorated like any other boujee coffee shop with overpriced coffee she was way too intimidated to walk into, but with a bit more of…flair. Brown seemed to be its main color, with cream-colored trimmings and faux pillars that added to its overall visual. There were plenty of real flowers that decorated the front of the building, which housed a rather large window that offered a look at a display of menu items. Sophie had to raise her brows at that—that many real flowers, surviving, in the middle of the city? Color her…slightly impressed.

"A butler café!" Posy exclaimed back, throwing her arms up, her ita-bag—themed to some kind of…rhythm game character today—bouncing slightly on her shoulder.

Sophie squinted at her sister, who looked a little too pleased with herself. "You…want to try a butler café?" God, she didn't even know they had places like these here in London. She thought places like these were exclusively nestled between the streets of Akihabara, known only to the most devoted of fangirls.

The young woman nodded her head. "Mhm! I saw it on my way back from campus one day—and a lot of my online friends have been saying that it's fun!"

Sophie blinked at her. Right. Okay.

"Uh, well…" Sophie began, creasing her brows together. What the hell, what could even go wrong? Posy had already reassured her that today would be her treat, and the poor girl probably only dragged her out today because she had no one else to go with, and Araminta would likely have heart palpitations at the thought of Posy even breathing near a place like this.

"I…guess we could try it out. No harm in it." She breathed out. "Maybe it'll be like…uh, Ouran."

Posy gaped at her. "Oh my god, you're so right! It kind of is like Ouran!"

Before Sophie could even utter out another word, Posy grabbed her arm, and dragged her face-first into this strange, new world.

"Welcome to Patisserie Whistledown!" A cheerful young woman greeted them at the front. That was a bit of a surprise. She was beautiful, too. God—stunning, actually. She had doe-like brown eyes, full lips, and stunning deep, brown skin. A pin on her uniform had the name Edwina inscribed onto it.

"Is this your first time visiting us?"

"Mhm!" Posy hummed with her usual pep. She wrapped herself around Sophie's stock-still arm. "My sister and I'll have a table for two."

Sophie glanced around the large space of the café. It was like an interior student had gone rouge on the Sims 4, with just about every expansion pack and every imaginable mod on their hands. The brown continued inside, but there were more cream-colored aspects of the room, making it feel warm and almost cozy. It almost reminded Sophie of a old English country house from the 1700's.

And oh, how could she forget. The collection of stupidly handsome guys dressed in butler outfits of all kinds wandering around the room, attending to near-swooning women (and men!) in booths and tables. Christ, it really is like Ouran, Sophie thought to herself, almost delirious.

The young woman, Edwina, flashed them a bright smile, picking up two menu placards from the podium next to her before she guided them to a table for two. And, well, Sophie had to begrudgingly admit, the tables were stupid pretty. A round, shiny, wooden surface with a glass cut to size atop it, all while there were pressed flowers arranged neatly between the table and piece of glass.

Posy wasted no time in sitting down, nearly squealing as she brought out a little plushie—a Nui, Sophie thinks it's called?—from her bag and taking pictures of it by the accents on the table. Sophie hesitantly sat herself opposite to her sister, thumbing the menu Edwina had handed to them. She risked a glance at the menu, and—

Okay, the prices weren't that bad. Maybe she was just being a little dramatic.

"Ah, is this your first time with us, my lady?"

What.

Sophie's brow twitched slightly. What. She glanced up from the menu, locking eyes with a man—a butler—standing beside her chair, who had an easy, crooked smile on his lips. He had short, dark, chestnut brown hair that was styled perfectly, and green eyes that just about twinkled with mischief. He had small freckles on his skin, along with a few prominent moles scattered all over his face. Benedict, it said on his nametag.

Goddammit, he was cute. She almost wished she hadn't locked eyes on him in a butler café, of all places.

Posy had now stopped taking pictures with her Nui, looking expectantly at her with wide, excited eyes.

Oh my god, do I really have to play along? Sophie wanted to bury herself alive.

"Um…yes," She replied eloquently. "It's my sister and I's first time here."

Benedict hummed, his bright eyes flickering towards Posy as he smiled at her. Posy nearly melted in her chair. Sophie had to press her lips together and keep it cool.

"Well, shall I indulge and ask what you would prefer to be called, my ladies?" Benedict's eyes flickered back to Sophie. "Princess, perhaps?"

Sophie nearly choked on air. What the hell. Were all…butler cafés and what-not really like this?! She looked at Posy for help, but her sister only grinned at her and gave her two, overenthusiastic thumbs-up.

Very helpful.

"Uh, my lady is…fine." Sophie replied, still thumbing at the menu in her hands.

Benedict pursed his lips slightly. "I do think princess suits you more, but…I shall do as you say, my lady."

Sophie was going to bury her head in the wooden flooring. She really was.

Posy piped in. "I'd like to be called just my lady, too!"

A smile tugged at the corners of the butler's lips as he looked at Posy. "Well, alright then. Your wish is my command, my lady."

"Ah, since you two are new here," Benedict clapped his hands together, now standing by their table, instead of lingering by Sophie's chair like a…very sexy, butler-outfit wearing devil on her shoulder. Good lord. What was she even talking about?

"Shall I tell you of our most popular menu items? Or my own recommendations?"

"Your recommendations, please!" Posy was having way too much fun with this.

Benedict smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way that made Sophie's chest almost flutter. Get it together!

"I do believe our best item on the menu to be our English afternoon tea set." He replied, a gloved hand gently moving to gesture to it on the menu placard in Sophie's hand. God, her heart felt like it was about to leap right out of her damn chest! She really wasn't built for places like these!

"Our scones here are simply delectable," He sighed out. "I would know, as I have snuck a few…bites here and there." He lowered his voice to a conspiring whisper as he leaned down, clearly playing up a specific persona. Sophie knew that, in places like these, most of the employees had a specific persona that they held and cultivated; it was how regulars grew to have their favorite within the cafe—or, their oshi, as Posy would call it.

So, Benedict was likely the boyish, troublemaker persona. And Sophie was, unfortunately, almost eating it up. She had the decency to be somewhat ashamed about it in her mind.

Posy giggled at his little re-telling, her chin in her hands. "We'll take one English afternoon tea set for two, then." She glanced down at the menu, lips pursed, before her eyes lit up. "Oh, and an additional order of chicken waffles!"

Sophie glanced over at Posy, a smile on her lips. That had always been her and Posy's go-to meal in her apartment during the period she'd been studying for her entrance exams—Sophie would just pop a few chicken tenders into her air-fryer, and a couple of frozen waffles into the toaster.

Benedict hummed. "An English afternoon tea set for two, and an order of chicken waffles it is," He placed a gloved hand over his chest as he leaned down, winking at them. "Wait for me and your order, my ladies?"

Sophie managed a small smile at the man before he walked off, presumably to the chef's station to deliver their order. Only then did she let out a sigh of relief, slumping in her chair.

Posy stared at her, eyes narrowed, and lips curled in a mischievous smile. "He looks exactly like your usual type."

"Oh my god, Posy, don't even start!"

Posy laughed, leaning forward, her arms now on the table, fingers wiggling and reaching for Sophie's hands. "Whaaat? I didn't even say much!"

"They're just playing it up for the whole…roleplay aspect," Sophie remarked, nodding over to the other tables. "It's how they get you to keep coming back, you know. You develop a favorite, you do the services…"

"Oh, I know," Posy waved it off, her hands now intertwined with Sophie's. "But the roleplay is fun, isn't it?"

Sophie scowled slightly, but didn't even try shaking her sister's hands off.

"My ladies," Benedict's voice suddenly came. Sophie nearly jumped right out of her skin. "I come with your refreshments for the afternoon."

Sophie was still on the fence about this whole butler café thing, but even she could admit that she was impressed by how graceful and well-trained they were. Benedict was no different—his hands were quick, swift, and gentle as he placed the saucers and teacups in place, before he poured each of them a generous amount of tea.

"Now," Benedict chirped, placing the teapot aside. "I don't believe I've introduced myself yet, my ladies. Do forgive me for that."

"I am Benedict, and I shall be your butler for the afternoon," His amused eyes flickered to Sophie. "While we wait for your meal, my ladies, shall we partake in a bit of…entertainment?"

Apparently, for the Patisserie Whistledown, it was standard to have these services that were often used as a form of entertainment for the customers—Sophie still couldn't wrap her head around it much. Posy, apparently, was either a fast learner, or she knew about this from what her online friends had told her. For the most part, a lot of these services were innocent, fun activities that let the customers interact more with the butlers. Benedict had explained it rather well: there were these old-fashioned mini-games the customers could play with the butlers—Sophie had spotted some kind of ring toss a few tables down—and there were the more customer-butler centered experiences.

And, obviously, the most popular option amongst both newcomers and regulars were the customer-butler centered experiences.

"The crowd favorite is the Lift Me Up Photo," Benedict chirped, folding his arms over his chest in a way that was a little too…distracting for Sophie. She managed to at least focus on what he was saying again. "It's where we lift you, my ladies, up into our arms for a photo op."

"And you're…allowed to do that?" Sophie creased her brows together.

Posy swatted at her hands on the table. "Oh, come on, Soph! It's a fun little souvenir picture."

Benedict smiled, shifting his eyes back onto Sophie. "I take it that you are not at all interested in it, my lady?"

"Uh, no…not really."

"Ah, well. Entirely understandable," He mused, tilting his head to the side. "There is also what we call Cinderella Time."

"What's Cinderella Time?" Posy asked, taking a sip from her cup of tea. Sophie had to admit—the tea was quite good, especially considering this place almost seemed like a pretty gimmicky experience on the surface.

"Cinderella Time is a…rather youthful whim," Benedict admitted with a laugh. "We implemented it for our younger visitors, but it has been surprisingly popular with everyone. We give our visitor a tiara and a silver bell—and blow bubbles."

Sophie cracked a small smile at that. It was a little childish, but it sounded cute. If she were a little bit younger—or just a little bit more whimsical like Posy—maybe she would have asked for the experience.

"Oh, that sounds adorable," Posy cooed. "We should come back here on your birthday, Soph. Give you a little princess treatment with Cinderella Time."

Sophie blinked at her sister. "What? No, no—this is a one time thing, Posy." She laughed out, cheeks feeling hot as she shook her head.

"Is this a one-time visit for you, my lady?" Benedict asked softly, sounding almost…resigned? Maybe Sophie was just hearing things.

"This…isn't usually my scene," She laughed nervously, her eyes briefly meeting Benedict's. God, it was like looking at a kicked puppy. "I just came with my sister to make her happy."

"Ah," Benedict mused, pressing his lips together. His eyes seemed to linger on Sophie, before he cleared his throat and turned to shoot a smile at Posy. "Well then, we shall make the most of today."

"Has anyone seen Benedict?" A young woman with ginger hair furrowed her brows together, eyes scanning the half-deserted, rather lavish, breakroom. The woman wore a name tag pinned to her blouse—the name Penelope printed above the title of manager.

Edwina, now on her break, glanced up at her manager-slash-friend. And in-law, technically, since Penelope was engaged to Colin, who was another one of the Bridgerton siblings. In turn, Edwina was the younger sister of Kate, who was married to the eldest of the Bridgertons, Anthony. It was all rather...complicated. 

"He's out on the floor right now," Edwina replied, blinking up at her. "In charge of table eight, I think."

Penelope's eyes narrowed into slits. "He's more responsible about being a pretend-butler than he is about his own real career," She muttered, unsure if she wanted to be impressed or annoyed. "Thank you, Edwina."

Penelope headed out to the front—lingering by the cash registrar as her eyes scanned the café for any sign of the ever-restless second-born Bridgerton. Her eyes finally landed on Benedict, who was, indeed, at table eight—wearing something of a…smile that felt too genuine than it usually was when he worked a shift at Patisserie Whistledown. Of course, he—strangely enough—enjoyed the work. He was something of a social butterfly and a charming flirt, after all; his personality fit perfectly into something as ridiculous as a butler café.

But that smile on Benedict's face felt…different. It didn't feel like it was just for the sake of making visitors swoon and blush and swear to keep coming back to the café—and Penelope only had to shift her eyes to where Benedict was looking to find out why.

Ah, she thought to herself, an amused smile tugging at the corners of her lips. So that's why.

Benedict could feel Penelope's eyes boring holes into the back of his head. He knew his sister-in-law's—well, future sister-in-law for now, but with how long she's been in his life, she was pretty much part of the Bridgerton family already—stare all too well. Eloise, Benedict's younger sister and Penelope's best friend, had always joked that the eagle-eyed woman was difficult to hide secrets from with how observant and thoughtful she was.

And, oh, god—Benedict was really starting to get what Eloise meant by that.

He tried his best to ignore the stare fixated on his back like a moving target, and shifted his focus back onto the two customers in front of him.

He was more than aware that asking for a customer's personal information was completely forbidden outside of what they would willingly tell him; because yes, contrary to popular belief, despite being a part-timer hired only by Penelope because of his looks and boredom, he did, in fact, read the rules and guidelines of the place. But he still couldn't help it—he was itching to ask this beautiful woman what her name was, and if he was feeling brave, maybe even her number.

"Be right back, my ladies," Benedict said smoothly. "I shall go and check on your orders."

He practically speed-walked the hell out of there, stopping only in front of the counter. He let out a deep, shaky breath as he pushed his hair back into place.

"Not. A word." He said in a low voice, having already predicted whatever remark it was that Penelope had on the tip of her tongue.

"Okay. Three words, then," She said slowly, leaning forward, her elbows propping up on the countertop. Her amused eyes flickered to the raven-haired woman in table eight. "You like her."

He scoffed. "I do not. That's against the rulebook PDF you sent me."

"Oh, wow. You actually read it?"

He placed a hand on his hip, raising a brow. "Need I remind you, I am one of your best butlers in this fine establishment of yours, Pen. I get the most requests, and I have the most regulars. Of course I know the rulebook front to back."

Penelope squinted at him. "You're the notorious rulebreaker of the family, and this is where you decide to draw the line?"

"You're being mean." He sniffed.

"I am not!" Penelope exclaimed, almost laughing at the ridiculousness of the entire situation. She reached forward to grab his arms. "Please, break the rules. You have my permission. I'm itching to see you finally tied down."

Benedict flushed red, not even trying to shake off her hands. "I don't even know her!"

And I won't even get to know her, he thought to himself miserably. She won't even come back.

She squeezed his arms, narrowing her eyes at him. "You will."

"That sounds like a threat."

"It might be."

Benedict swallowed the lump in his throat.

Benedict was going to throw himself out of the window. He really was.

"It's our promo for our new visitors," Penelope cheerfully said, hands clasped in front of her. She looked every bit the enthusiastic and put-together owner. "Since you've ordered a two-person English afternoon tea set, you get one free Lift Me Up Photo with any butler of your choice!"

Bullshit, Benedict thought to himself, miserably pondering where would be the best place to bury himself alive right about now. He knew the café's promotional material as well as the back of his hand—they'd never once had anything like this.

Oh, god. He felt nauseous. He didn't know how he was going to mentally recover if she turned down the offer or chose another butler. He might actually throw up.

Penelope still had that bright, award-winning customer service smile on her painted lips, waiting for either of the two women to respond.

Posy blinked, scone halfway to her mouth.

"Oh," Sophie said eloquently. She looked at her sister, an awkward smile on her lips. "Uh, do you want to take the picture, Posy?"

The young woman grinned back. "I think I'm good," She replied, sounding a little too delighted for her older sister's taste. Her scone was quickly forgotten on her plate. "Do you want to take the picture, Soph?"

"What?" Sophie sputtered out, quickly putting down her tea cup. "No, I—I'm fine! I'd rather you do it, Posy. This is more of your thing, and—well, you're paying, too."

The immediate and resolute 'no' really shouldn't have felt like a kick to Benedict's stomach. He felt nauseous all over again.

"Well, yeah," Posy scrunched her nose slightly. "But…I don't really want to be carried. Do it for me, please?" She pouted at her sister, hands clasped together. "It'd be a waste of the promo they've got!"

Sophie really couldn't care less about the promo being wasted, if she was being completely honest, but she found her eyes flickering to where Benedict stood behind Penelope, a tray still tucked under his arm. Oh my god. What was she thinking?

She quickly looked away before Benedict could notice—but Posy already had, if the smug look on her face was any indication. Sophie scowled slightly, fingers tightening around the tea cup's handle.

"Come on, Soph," Posy begged in her best pout. "It's just a picture. And it'll be a fun souvenir!"

Sophie pressed her lips together, trying to ward off a headache entirely. "…Posy."

"Sophieee." Posy creased her brows together, doing what was likely her best impression of a newborn pup.

The raven-haired woman breathed in deeply, pinching the edge of her nose. She'd read somewhere on the placard that the experiences ranged from an additional twenty to thirty quid to the food ordered—she couldn't help at marvel at Penelope's business genius, really—so…she guessed, begrudgingly, that it would be a waste not to take the promo.

Not to mention, she'd get carried by a cute guy with a devastatingly attractive accent…

I cannot seriously be considering this, Sophie thought to herself, quickly mustering a moment of self-reflection. Her eyes squinted. Oh my god, I'm seriously considering this.

"So, what do you think?" Penelope spoke up again, voice still laced with sweetness. (Benedict honestly had to admire her stubbornness—if only he weren't on the brunt end of her scheming.)

"We'll do it!" Posy quickly replied, putting up an okay with her fingers. "My sister here will take the picture!"

Sophie stared at Posy, mouth slightly agape. Before she could even utter out a word, Penelope quickly tittered excitedly, "Good choice! Now, which of our butlers would you like to take the picture with?"

Sophie stammered slightly, her pale cheeks turning rosy. "Wh—"

"Benedict here is a popular choice." Penelope chirped, steering Benedict forward by his shoulders. Despite being considerably shorter than him, she had somehow managed to manhandle the poor man into place in front of her.

"Um…" Sophie began, eyes flickering over to Benedict, before she looked back to Posy just as quickly. Posy gave her an enthusiastic nod. Okay, not much help. "I—I mean, I guess that would be fine. He's the one we've been with the entire time."

"Alright, great! Let me just ask them to set up the booth."

Benedict didn't know if he wanted to smother Penelope all over with kisses and thank her, or to quit right on the spot (even if he wasn't even formally employed by the café). It was a dilemma, and he was unfortunately experiencing it as the woman—Sophie, he'd finally learned from her bickering with her sister who's name was Posy—stood next to him, awkwardly shifting in place. Posy had insisted on staying behind, apparently too immersed in her scones and staging a photoshoot with her nui on the table.

He couldn't blame Sophie at all—to most people who visited and were unaware of what butler cafés often offered, the Lift Me Up Photo had always been the most awkward experience. Yet, somehow, it always remained the most popular experience in the café, and to Penelope's amusement, always mentioned in articles and features written about Patisserie Whistledown.

"Are you alright, my lady?" Benedict asked softly, still entirely in character.

Sophie glanced up in surprise—mainly out of the fact that Benedict somehow stayed in his persona no matter what—as her hands fiddled with the hem of her shirt. "Me? Oh, I'm fine," She breathed out, shaking her head frantically. "I'm really fine."

The man found his eyes flickering down to Sophie's pink, full lips, before he just as quickly looked away. "Will you be comfortable being carried?" He found himself asking, his ever-so reliable charming butler persona slipping for a brief moment.

"Um," Sophie began, brows creasing together. "I…I think I will. Just be careful." She sighed out, finally giving in despite herself.

"I will be careful," Benedict promised, a hint of mirth in his tone. "I could not live with myself if you were to get hurt, my lady."

Ugh, Sophie bemoaned internally. Why is it hot when he does it? This whole thing should be a complete turn off—especially all the regency talk—but Benedict fully embraced the concept of this ridiculous cafe, and somehow stayed attractive in her eyes.

The worst part about all of this? Benedict always sounded so, so sincere. So stupidly sincere in fact, that Sophie really wasn't surprised that he was a popular fixture at the cafe. He was like a golden retriever, in the sense that Sophie was beginning to slightly hallucinate a furry tail wagging behind him.

"Now," Benedict suddenly spoke up, a bright smile still on his lips. Sophie wanted to stretch a roll of duct tape right over his mouth. Maybe that would finally put her out of her misery. "May I?"

Sophie felt her neck grow hot. It was not helping that Benedict was nearly an entire head taller than her, and could likely lift her with one arm; she didn't even want to try and think about what was under his dark, velvet sleeves. She felt like she was turning into a starved regency-era gentleman getting a peek at an ankle.

"Sure." She finally managed to croak out, feeling so much like a guilty pervert that it was beginning to give her a headache. Oh, god. What was she, a hormonal teenager going through puberty again?

Benedict stepped behind her, murmuring something that sounded vaguely like a pardon me to Sophie's muddled mind, and she had half a mind to take note of the fact that he was still trying to be polite about this ridiculous situation.

Sophie let out a breath, and Benedict's arm—strong, built, and downright unfortunate for her spiraling mind—slid over her waist. Benedict didn't seem to think much of it, which sounded about right considering how much he must've done it by now—and she could only scowl slightly at the realization against her will. Entirely unfazed with a smile still on his face, Benedict bent his knees, and—

"Oh my god!" Sophie squeaked out in surprise, suddenly seeing from a height that was much, much higher than what she was used to. Six feet high up suddenly seemed like too big of a dream for her to reach in her lifetime—maybe it wouldn't be so bad being perpetually five foot two.

Her arms wrapped instinctively around Benedict's shoulders, and he had only replied with a laugh—damn him and that stupidly beautiful laugh. She had no idea if she wanted to curse it or keep listening like an enamored parrot.

"Are you alright, my lady?" Benedict asked—still in character, because when was he never?—his voice softening considerably as he rather seamlessly adjusted his hold on her body. She could feel his hands pressing underneath her calves, and despite both the fabric of her jeans and his gloves acting as a barrier, she could feel his warm hands as if they were pressed directly against the pale skin underneath.

Sophie swallowed the lump in her throat. Then, she let out a small, shaky breath. "I'm…alright." It was the best she could manage with the absolute shitshow of a state she was in at that very moment. She could only hope she didn't sound too much like a rat dying in a glue trap.

"You sound rather the opposite."

"Maybe you just have hearing problems." Sophie wheezed out, trying not to curl into herself with the princess carry she was now in. She'd really rather not slide right out of Benedict's hold with how tall he was.

Benedict shifted slightly. "Do not worry, my lady. I will not drop you." He said, voice firm and resolute in a way that made Sophie's stomach stupidly flutter. God, I should get it together, she thought desperately to herself. This is literally his job! Its is in his job description to act like this!

"I know you won't," Sophie muttered, her eyes drifting over to Penelope, who was fussing over a polaroid camera with what seemed like another employee. "I don't think your manager would be too pleased about that."

A carefree laugh left Benedict's lips, his shoulders shaking as he tightened his hold on her. "Of course. I do think she would be rather unpleased if I dropped a lady as beautiful as yourself."

Sophie felt that warmth on her neck crawl up to her cheeks.

"Yes, well, that is in your job description, isn't it?" She joked lightly, her eyes hesitantly flitting up to meet his.

Oh, god. She shouldn't have done that. She wasn't sure if she could bear to look away from his pretty, olive green eyes now. She felt her lips part slightly, and she hoped she didn't look too much like a fish out of water.

Benedict, thankfully, hadn't seemed to notice.

"Perhaps," He mused aloud, purposefully vague. "But I am not a liar, Miss Sophie. I am but many things, but a liar is not one of them. You are very beautiful to me."

Time out. Time the fuck out. Sophie had to get the hell out of here. She nodded along like her face wasn't on fire, before she glanced over at Penelope again, voice slightly wobbly, "Can we take the picture now?"

Sophie didn't know how she had managed to walk out of that makeshift studio without her knees giving in. She gripped onto that polaroid like a lifeline, feeling like she had just survived through the frontlines, not a silly little polaroid shoot.

Benedict trailed behind her back to her table like a puppy, humming happily like he hadn't just effectively shifted Sophie's pervert mind on its axis. She dumped herself back into her chair, barely registering as Posy's sneaky, wandering hands quickly snatched the polaroid out of her grasp.

"Oh, this is adorable!" Posy cooed, still leaning over the table as she looked up from the polaroid in her hands.

"It is, is it not?" Benedict chimed in, a little too happy with himself. Meanwhile, Sophie was slumped in her chair, head tilted back and lolling to the side. Again, it was a polaroid shoot, not a battlefield.

"I shall go and fetch the rest of your meal, my ladies." Benedict spoke up, giving the two women another bright smile before turning on his heel.

"I should do this when I come back." Posy mused once she and her sister were left together once more, nodding sagely to herself. Then, she slid the polaroid back to her sister, and took a bite out of a scone.

That snapped Sophie out of her stupor.

"You're planning on coming back?"

"Of course I will! Why wouldn't I? This place is fun, and the food is good."

Well, Sophie couldn't exactly come up with a strong retort to that—the food was quite good and affordable, and it helped that the cafe was just calming to be in.

Posy gulped down the rest of her scone. "And there's eye candy everywhere, so…"

Sophie snorted, unable to help her amusement. "Do not let Araminta hear you talk like that. She'd have a heart attack." She paused for a moment, amusement on her features. "And I thought you were loyal to your 2D…husbands."

"Well," Posy sighed out, clearly eyeing a dark-haired butler a few tables down. "Sometimes even 2D men can't compare to 3D men."

Sophie choked on her scone. My god. When had her baby sister…grown up so much? It felt like it had only been yesterday when Posy only came up to her hip, and constantly clung to her back asking all kinds of questions—much to Araminta's displeasure.

"I'm starting to think you want to give Araminta a heart attack, Posy."

Posy only grinned back at her older sister, entirely unrepentant as she bit into another scone.

Benedict had half a mind to delay the chicken waffles from coming out just so Sophie and her sister wouldn't leave just yet, but he'd rather not face Penelope's wrath by serving a lukewarm plate of food. He leaned against the front counter as he waited for the order, absentmindedly watching Penelope tap away at her iPad.

Penelope barely looked up from her screen as she spoke. "You're staring."

"I am." Benedict replied dryly.

She finally looked up from the iPad, narrowing her eyes up at him.

"Benedict. I've already played my own hand. Are you seriously expecting me to do the rest of the work for you? Are you even a man?"

He slumped against the counter, frankly feeling pathetic. "Pen."

"Ben, I can't do everything for you. I mean, I'm sure it would be fun to, seeing as your entire reputation would be in the palm of my hands, but—you have to do the rest yourself if you really want to get to know her." Penelope set the iPad aside, setting a hand on her hip. Unfortunately for Benedict, she made an entirely good point.

Before he could open his mouth to retort snidely, the bell rang, and a plateful of fried chicken fillets and waffles slid out of the chef's station. He sighed, snatched the paper order for Sophie and Posy's table, shoved it into his pocket, and seamlessly slid back into his usual persona in the café.

Penelope watched as he left with the order in hand, expression curious. She'd been best friends with Eloise since she was a child, and by proxy, she had grown up alongside the other Bridgertons—she'd seen all of Benedict's highs and lows, as slightly humiliating as that was. Of course, she wanted the best for him, but she also knew very well that he wouldn't make a move of his own if she had to be the one to keep pushing him in place like a dedicated chessmaster.

And, besides. She had something of a…gut feeling about this Sophie.

An intuition, if you will.

"Pen," A voice suddenly spoke behind her, making her jump slightly. She whirled around, a smile on her face as she was met with her fiance, Colin. Well, more specifically, with the front of his zip-up jacket, considering their ridiculous height difference.

"Colin!" She chirped happily, letting him wrap his arms around her. "Oh, you're just in time."

"Time? In time for what?" Colin asked, clearly lost as he pressed his chest against her back.

"For whether or not your dear brother will crash and burn," Penelope replied with a snort. She nodded over at table eight, a good distance from their position by the counter. "Over there."

Benedict was, luckily, not easy to miss with his height of six feet.

Colin's mouth formed an 'o'. He didn't even have to look for long to realize exactly what Penelope had been talking about.

"Well," He breathed out, amusement in his tone. "Let's put a little faith in Benedict."

The day was ending.

The day was ending, and Benedict hadn't gotten anything but her name.

Sophie.

She definitely looked like a Sophie, that was for sure. He couldn't imagine calling her anything else but.

Either way, it was going to be useless at this point, because the day was ending—Patisserie Whistledown usually closed at six on the dot, and it was now a quarter past five—and she had already made it very clear she'd visit only once, and only gave in because of her sister.

Benedict was pathetic.

The most beautiful woman he'd laid eyes on in his lifetime walked into his place of technical-work, and he did nothing about it because he was so goddamn pathetic.

He was dreading Sophie and Posy calling for the bill. He almost wanted to pass it over to another butler, but he quickly shoved the idea aside—how else would he see her for at least another five minutes while the damn reciept was printing?

"My ladies," He smiled down at the two women. "I take it this afternoon has been a fulfilling venture?"

Posy grinned up at him. Although he'd been instantly attracted to Sophie, he couldn't deny how much of a bright, warm young woman Posy was. It was no wonder Sophie seemed so proud of her in the snippets of conversations he would hear as he lingered by here and there.

"Definitely," She bobbed her head. "I'll come back soon!"

Benedict laughed gently, folding his gloved hands together. "I would hope so, my lady. I look forward to seeing you here once more sometime soon."

Sophie peeked curiously up at him, something he took note of immediately, freakish as he was. He seriously had to cool it.

"…It was a fun afternoon," She said softly, giving him a smile that nearly made his knees grow weak. God, he was one weak, weak man. "Thank you, Benedict."

Benedict nearly blacked out right then and there. Oh. Oh.

His name sounded so damn right on her lips. It was driving him against the wall.

Posy glanced down at her watch, lips pursing together. "Soph, we should get going now. Mama is probably going to be looking for me soon." She sighed out, clearly disappointed the day was coming to an end.

"Oh, right. Araminta might get up in arms about you and I seeing each other again." Sophie remarked with a soft snort.

Benedict almost wanted to stop her. To stall for time like a moron, because he'd decided to be decent and not pester her during what seemed like her already limited time with her sister. He felt guilt churn at the pit of his stomach—why was he even thinking like that? Of course, he shouldn't have pestered them. He did the right thing.

"We'll take the bill now, Benedict."

His jaw clenched tightly.

"…Of course, my lady."

Edwina took one look at Benedict's hunched form in the employee's lounge, curled into a ball on one of the couches, and quickly took a picture of him. Then she shoved her phone back into her pocket like nothing had happened, and carefully approached him.

"Ben," She reached over to repeatedly poke at the side of his hip. He startled, body jerking sideways in surprise. "Are you okay? You're posed exactly like how I am when I'm on my cycle."

Benedict scoffed, pushing her hand away slightly. He adored his sister-in-law, but he'd rather not be poked like a hamster right about now. "…I am, unfortunately, not on my cycle, Edwina." He replied dryly, sitting himself upright.

"Oh, too bad. I thought I could use some of the leftover chocolate to cheer you up." She mused, now brandishing small, wrapped chocolate bars in her hands as she sat herself on the armrest of the couch.

He glanced at her with a slight frown. "…Do you have any Twix bars in there?"

"Colin ate the last one."

"Ugh. He visited?"

"Mhm." Edwina peeled a Kit-Kat bar open. "You know how antsy he gets if he doesn't see Pen every three hours."

"Right."

"He did mention something interesting to me before he left," She bit into the chocolate wafer. "That girl from table eight earlier."

"Oh, god. Not you too."

"Ben, come on!" She said through a mouthful of wafers, covering her mouth slightly with her hand. "You like her, don't you? You stayed with their table the longest, and I do have a working pair of eyes."

Benedict felt a little petty. "Well, it doesn't matter now, does it? She's not coming back to the café."

"Her sister will, though, won't she? She was pretty enthuisastic about taking the stamp card I gave her before they left."

"I'm not going to pester her sister, Edwina. That's a surefire way for her to be completely turned off by me."

Edwina crushed her Kit-Kat wrapper into a ball, shoving it into her pocket. "Sensible and respectful," She nodded approvingly. "Learning, are we, Ben?"

"Learning, yes, but I am miserable."

She gave him a pat on the back, voice softening considerably. "…Let's go check if Pen has any Twix bars left?"

Benedict nodded glumly, trailing after her like a kicked puppy.

"I cannot believe you, Sophie Baek!"

Alfie, Sophie's roommate and friend of god-knows how long, was currently drilling into her poor eardrums. She groaned, leaning over their small dinner table as she pressed her palms against her ears. Is this what it's like to have nagging parents who care? She thought distantly to herself.

"Not even a number! Not even a flirty comment! Not even a hint that you're interested!"

Oh, god. He was still going.

"I raised you better than this!"

"Raised me?" She wheezed out, finally putting her hands down from her head. "Alfie, you met me when my frontal lobe was already half-way formed."

"Doesn't matter," He jeered back, sitting himself on the dinner table. "I taught you better, Baek."

"Oh my god—Alf, it was a butler café! It was his job to act all charming and flirty—that's like believing the stripper actually loves me!"

"Oh, you wish he were a stripper."

"Alfie!"

"Sorry."

Sophie sighed, like she held the weight of the world on her shoulders. She might as well have been, with how this morning was going.

Yesterday had been…a lot. She'd seen Posy off at the train station, before she made her own commute back to her and Alfie's shared flat—and she couldn't brush Benedict the butler from her mind. She'd tossed around in bed like a teenager girl, frustrated beyond belief, half from irritation at herself from even thinking he could be interested considering he was being paid to act that way—and half from another more secret, humiliating irritation that she hadn't even tried to at least ask for his number.

It all came to a head in the morning after, where Alfie had pressed her into fessing up after staring at her dazed state for a good few minutes—and so, here she was now, being grilled by her best friend for apparently not being stupid enough to think that Benedict the butler could be interested.

"What's the name of the, uh, butler café again?"

"…Patisserie Whistledown."

"Mm."

Alfie's thumbs were quick at work on his phone, typing—before his eyes widened, and his jaw dropped.

"Sophie."

"What now?" She practically whined out, now that she had no one but Alfie to play all dignified and composed around.

"Do not tell me this is your Benedict the butler."

He promptly shoved his phone right in her face, and there, on the beaming screen—Alfie seriously needed to lower his screen brightness—was Benedict. Chestnut brown hair, olive green eyes, moles, freckles, dimples, crooked smile and all. Just ever so slightly touched up in Photoshop. Sophie should've expected that Alfie would easily find a photo—it was more than likely that Patisserie Whistledown had an online presence, and, in turn, pictures of the butlers online…which, of course, included Benedict.

"…That…is him." She said slowly.

"Oh my god! And you didn't hit on him?! I'm more impressed by your self-control!"

Sophie's cheeks pinked. She hadn't told Alfie about the polaroid yet—mainly because she valued her inner peace, and he would likely not shut up for the rest of the day if she'd shown it to him, much less even just mentioned it.

"It would've been inappropriate," She threw back with a huff. "He was working, Alfie. That was his job."

"You're so strict."

"I'm only strict because it would've been inappropriate." She jeered at him.

Alfie narrowed his eyes down at her, sliding into the seat opposite hers at the round dinner table.

"You keep talking about inappropriateness, but when have you ever cared about that kind of thing, really?"

"Oh my god, Alf. I am not having this conversation. Go make breakfast."

Sophie dropped her head in her hands, mind still full of that stupid butler, his stupid hair, his stupid eyes, and his stupid smile. Maybe she'd stop thinking about him sooner or later. At least, she hoped so. It would be better for her sanity if she did.