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Sophie was the most talented person Benedict had ever known.
She could climb the outside of a building and open a window within seconds. Even though Benedict had already witnessed her skills at My Cottage, seeing Sophie perched on his windowsill made him quite surprised. Framed against the night sky, Sophie smiled.
"I've missed you."
Sophie laughed brightly. "But I felt bad asking Hazel to keep John's attention again. Since I'm wearing dark clothes today, I thought a quick climb won't ruin them."
She climbed down from the windowsill. "At least I hope so." Benedict, however, wasn't merely surprised by the fact that Sophie had scaled the wall of the four-story mansion. The moment he opened the door and saw Sophie sitting by the window, he had assumed she had come to say a final goodbye—just before revealing her true self. Angel, goddess, fairy, whatever she was, he had always known someone like Sophie was too wonderful to be merely human. Fully aware of how foolish he'd sound, Benedict took Sophie's hand and whispered.
"Thank goodness. I thought you were finally getting ready to fly away."
Sophie rolled her eyes, baffled by just how stupid Benedict could be.
Sophie was also skilled at all kinds of household chores. It wasn't just that she knew how to do them; she excelled at every single one. Benedict felt proud whenever she baked butter biscuits. Sophie really knew how to make the softest butter biscuits in the world.
"They are the most delicious thing I've ever tasted."
"Benedict, I only gave you those because they were burnt."
Sophie retorted, pressing the cookie cutter down firmly.
"There's no way they were good."
Benedict looked at his valet, who was seated beside him. Hatch immediately knew what he had to say.
"The biscuits were absolutely fine, Miss Baek."
Sophie dismissed both Benedict's and Hatch's opinions as entirely biased—the latter, she noted, was obviously under some form of pressure.
Benedict also couldn't help but notice how Sophie always seemed to have something in her hands ever since their engagement. She would hide it whenever he entered the room, but Benedict had already figured out that she was making the veil—ribbon?—for their wedding. He found this utterly charming, but kept his mouth shut so as not to spoil her efforts. Only God knew how long he could last without bringing up how endearing she was.
On top of that, Sophie spoke more languages than Benedict could even count. Apparently, Benedict was not the first Bridgerton to know this. He found out quite by accident, in the middle of a conversation with Eloise. Eloise, while wholeheartedly wishing them well, was not entirely happy about the news that Sophie would be moving to Wiltshire after the wedding. Benedict joked, "You can always come visit your favorite brother in Wiltshire," but Eloise was quite serious.
"It will be hard to find a new friend in London who loves reading as much as she does."
Benedict felt a sudden swell of emotion. Eloise rarely praised someone. Unable to contain his pride, he boasted.
"Sophie really is special. Have you heard her speak French?"
Eloise snorted.
"If French were all she knew, it wouldn't hurt this much."
Benedict must have looked utterly dumbfounded. Eloise hadn't even thought to tease him. She spoke purely out of confusion.
"You do know that Sophie speaks Latin and Korean too, right?"
Since Benedict very much did not know that, he ran straight to Sophie and demanded to know how she could have kept such a gift from him. Sophie blushed and kindly reminded him that ever since their engagement, her mouth had hardly been used for proper conversation—let alone Latin, or any other language. She said this like a secret, rising onto her tiptoes and whispering into his ear.
"...There was no time to tell you. We kept kissing, didn't we."
Only after Benedict had pressed three kisses to her forehead, the corners of her eyes, and her lips did he realize Sophie probably never really had the chance to reveal she spoke so many languages.
Yet when Sophie fell asleep in his arms, Benedict would find himself pondering why she had to be so talented. Sophie had to be good at everything. There was a reason she had learned to slip into the house unseen. Unlike most maids, who had their clearly defined duties, Sophie had no choice but to master cleaning, cooking, sewing, and laundry all on her own.
Benedict observed Sophie. When he had first truly seen her, Sophie had splashed water on Philip Cavender and grabbed Hazel by the arm, advising her to run and lock the door. Cavender had gotten dangerously close to her. If Benedict hadn't thrown the first punch that night, then it would have been—
He pulled Sophie closer to quiet his own imagination, nearly overcome with dread. No matter how vividly he imagined what Sophie had gone through, the reality she had endured would be far harsher than anything his mind could conjure. Benedict pressed a quiet kiss to her forehead, silently apologizing for not having found her sooner. All he could do was promise to give her days where she would never have to be so capable.
But there was one talent that remained an exception. Benedict couldn't figure out why she had needed to learn Korean. Inside the greenhouse, where sunlight streamed through the orange trees, Sophie had a French novel resting on her lap while Benedict had a sketchbook on his. He was capturing her composure in a sketch when his admiration for his fiancée gave way to a question. French and Latin were standard accomplishments for young ladies. His sisters had taken lessons in both from their governess—though after Daphne, who excelled at everything, and Eloise, who genuinely loved to learn, the rest had perhaps been less enthusiastic. But Korean? That was a rare choice indeed.
Had the former Earl of Penwood taught her? But from everything Benedict had gathered, Sophie's father had rarely spent any time with her. Araminta and her two daughters didn't speak Korean either. The two friends from the Penwood household whom Sophie had introduced, Alfie and Irma, seemed to only speak English with Sophie. Who had Sophie learned Korean to speak to?
"I feel like I could catch your gaze with my hands."
Sophie's voice, tinged with laughter, snapped him out of his thoughts. She slowly looked up from her book.
"Were you sketching?" she continued with a playful smile. "Or were you judging how slowly I read?"
"Of course not," Benedict replied. "As always, I was simply wondering about you."
Sophie raised an eyebrow. "I'm no longer the mysterious lady in silver, Benedict."
Benedict burst out laughing. "You are always full of mystery to me, Sophie."
And frankly, how could anyone ever know everything about Sophie Baek? Benedict was curious about everything. What was going on inside her head? Did she enjoy this conversation? Could she feel, deep in her bones, that she was loved—passionately, entirely loved—at this very moment? As long as he remained curious, Sophie would always be a mystery to him. The only relief was that Sophie was willing to satisfy his curiosity now. Sophie closed her book. Benedict's heart leapt. Whenever she gave him her whole attention, his chest filled with joy.
"What made you wonder?"
Benedict paused, wondering if his question might remind her of old wounds. Seeing his hesitation, Sophie gently urged him on. "I want to hear you, Benedict." Sophie was sincere. She, too, was curious about the person she loved. Benedict gave in.
"The other day, Eloise mentioned that you speak Korean."
"Yes."
"I was wondering why you learned that."
And then what Benedict had feared most happened—Sophie's smile faded. Benedict tried to correct himself.
"Sophie, if there's something you'd rather not think about—"
"Oh, no. It's nothing like that," Sophie answered.
Benedict recognized the way her hand drifted to her necklace. Sophie traced the surface of the amethyst when she was anxious—or when she thought of her mother. Oh. Benedict understood. Sophie's mother. Sophie seemed to have already read the realization in his eyes.
"...I'm not sure if I can speak Korean that well. I mostly just learned to read it. My father didn't encourage me to learn about my mother, but he never stopped me from reading books in her language."
Benedict set his sketchbook down on the bench and sat beside Sophie. She was looking off into the distance rather than at him, but shifted over to make room for him. Her brown eyes were searching somewhere far away.
"I wanted to read whatever my mother might have left. Many ladies keep diaries or write letters while expecting a child. I thought perhaps... she might have written in a way that felt most natural to her. I wanted to understand her. Even if I could never actually speak to her, I wanted to feel that she had been there..."
Benedict almost unconsciously wrapped his arm around Sophie's shoulders. Sophie leaned into him, but her gaze had not yet returned to his. She bit her lower lip before continuing.
"After Father passed away, I found out she had been a maid—and that she couldn't write." Her voice was barely audible. "Father didn't need to stop me. There was nothing she could have left behind."
Benedict couldn't agree with that. He pressed his lips to Sophie's temple. The soft sound that escaped her told him she had truly come back to him. He kissed her warm cheek.
"You are here."
Even Sophie's laughter was warm. Benedict knew that his failure to imagine Sophie's past as cold as it truly was came partly from his own naivety—but he just could not believe the world had dealt such cruelty to someone whose heart was so warm, someone who could sleep with such perfect peace. Even a flower raised its whole life in this greenhouse could not be as tender as Sophie. Yet Benedict also knew that Sophie's greatest talent was her capacity to remain so kind, no matter what came her way.
Sophie's small, steady hand brushed gently through his hair. That miraculous heart was entirely his. As if to answer him, Sophie cupped his cheek in her hand and slowly drew him closer. Their lips met. Her lips, oh, her lips—lips that had once practiced a foreign language searching for proof that she had been waited for, lips that had moved in search of proof that she was loved. Benedict poured into her every bit of love she deserved. After what felt like an eternity, Sophie pulled away and smiled.
"And the necklace, too."
"And that beautiful necklace, too."
Benedict kissed her smile once, then her neck where the necklace rested. Sophie made a sound. She seemed to be perfectly satisfied.
But Benedict was not. After all, he had always been the greedier of the two.
Benedict was the most loving person Sophie had ever known.
Although Benedict was required to live at the Bachelors' Lodge during their engagement, he would rise so early to rush over to the Bridgerton house and leave so late that Sophie almost felt sorry for Hatch, who had to accompany him every single time. (Upon hearing this, Benedict suggested that Hatch could stay and sleep in his room. Hatch, for obvious reasons, declined Mr. Bridgerton's kind offer.) He wanted to spend every moment by Sophie's side, even when Sophie went downstairs.
Sophie once had to warn Benedict not to make others uncomfortable. (Benedict had just caused an awkward silence by asking, "Aren't my siblings bothering all of you too much?") Her original plan was to persuade Benedict that he didn't need to accompany her when she was with other maids and footmen—but when Benedict looked at her and pleaded, "I don't want to watch you walk away from me," she was completely defeated. Sophie led him back into the kitchen, on the sole condition that Benedict would never again breathe a word about the servants' work. (Mrs. Wilson often looked as though Benedict were a nuisance, but at the same time she seemed to have concluded that it was quite entertaining to watch the second son of the family she had served for over thirty years stare at Sophie with a thoroughly besotted expression.)
He also acted as if it was his sole duty to give Sophie a gift at least once a day. Benedict rarely gave material gifts.
"There's not much place in this room."
Benedict muttered, glancing around Sophie's temporary room. (While the gowns and jewelry Benedict had bought for Sophie were piling up in the bedroom at My Cottage, Sophie had no way of knowing that yet.) His gifts were usually paintings or poems. Upon learning that the painting of Our Cottage had disappeared, he presented her with a new sketch, this time with two tiny figures flying a kite in the garden.
"If this painting catches fire, the people inside will burn along with it."
He said it lightly, as if making a joke. But his eyes betrayed a quiet anxiety and desperation. "Please have mercy on these tiny people."
Sophie swore she would never do anything cruel to them. On days without a painting, he would offer a poem instead. The themes were usually art, love, and the cottage. And if not that, he would take her and show her all sorts of places across London. Sophie's favorite was the hill where starlight poured down.
"It's nothing compared to the Cottage, I know."
Benedict whispered, pulling her firmly onto him so that no grass would stain her dress.
"But it's better than Mayfair, isn't it?"
Venus twinkled in the early evening sky. Caught between the warmth of his arms and the night sky spilling down upon her, Sophie could barely manage a single whisper to the man who was offering her the stars of London.
"This is perfect."
Love was carved into his very soul. In every breath he took, in the gaze that followed Sophie's every movement, in the tips of his fingers. In his lips, chasing some hidden truth along her jaw and cheekbones, and in his ears that seemed to have been made to listen to her and only her. Sophie secretly regretted that she didn't possess a talent like Benedict's. Nothing was more worth painting than Benedict in love. She could not doubt that he was happy when he was with her. Benedict had once said that "positivity was spilling out" of her. Sophie truly understood what he must have seen in her. It was spilling out of Benedict too—golden and so dazzling that no one could possibly look away.
When she was a young girl, Sophie would close her eyes when tears threatened to fall. She would let happy memories wash over her, so that when she opened her eyes again, she could bear reality. But now, she no longer needed to close them. Sophie didn't want to miss even the very last edge of reality. Sleep felt like a waste, and even blinking felt like a loss. Is it really alright for all of you to be mine?
"My goal is to stop surprising you."
Benedict spoke slowly, holding Sophie close on the terrace.
"Someday, Sophie, I hope you'll grow tired of my love and complain. You'd say you've already received so many gifts that you don't even want another one anymore. Nothing in the world would make me happier."
"Is that even possible?" Sophie whispered. "How could it ever be possible?"
Benedict gently stroked the curve of her ear and replied.
"It will be."
No, it won't be. It can't be. She would always be amazed by his love. Sophie unwrapped the package Benedict had handed her and stared. Benedict bought a pair of earrings. You are remarkably gifted when it comes to love. But that wasn't what truly left Sophie speechless. Beneath the amethyst earrings, letters that almost looked like painting were densely inscribed.
소피에게 To Sophie
자수정 목걸이를 선물하오 I present to you this amethyst necklace
마음의 증표로 생각해주오 Please consider it a token of my heart
Benedict Bridgerton
Sophie looked up. Benedict seemed to struggle for words before finally managing them. "깜짝- surpris- no, 깜짝 선물이오." A palpable tension hung over his expression. Sophie knew she had to say something. Look at those eyes. Say something. A thank you, or that it was beautiful, or that she was surprised, or that she loved him. But Sophie lost all of her words. A conversation from two weeks ago flashed through her mind. Benedict had been concerned. Naturally. About how she had come to learn Korean, and how she had completely lost the reason why.
Sophie had always been curious about what kind of person her mother had been. She had no doubt that her mother had left something somewhere in the house. If only I could find it. Korean was the first language she had ever learned, other than English. As she wandered alone among the vertically written characters, it felt as though her mother, whose face and voice she didn't know, was beckoning to her. Come, Sophie. I'm waiting for you just as much as you're waiting for me... Yes, Sophie thought someone was waiting for her. Someone who would love Sophie without reason. She had wanted so desperately to understand those words. I love you. Please love me. As much as I love you.
Sophie's eyes grew hot. Her vision blurred. Oh, no. Sophie's tears had a habit of falling much faster than she wanted. She turned her face, afraid that Benedict's letter might get wet—and his hand reached for her eyes. His hand that smelled of paint.
"Sophie."
Benedict called her softly. You have to answer, Sophie. You have to say something... Sophie bit her lip, then finally gave in and nestled herself into his arms. Benedict's voice poured ceaselessly over her.
"Anthony mentioned that a ship had recently arrived. I went to see if there was anything you might like. And there were these earrings. They call amethyst ja-su-jung in Korean. Did you know that, Sophie?"
Sophie shook her head. Even his voice carried that lopsided smile of his.
"I asked that. I also asked the merchant how to write my name in Korean, but he wasn't sure either. On second thought, I figured out it would be much better to ask you. If you'd like, you could even give me a Korean name."
He paused.
"And I was thinking, well,"
Sophie's tears soaked into Benedict's shirt. Curious about what other lovely ideas he had come up with, she stared up at his face. Benedict playfully bumped his nose against her reddened one.
"You could teach me the language at My Cottage. Then we could give our children Korean nicknames."
Sophie's eyes widened.
"Just think—we'd have our very own language that other Bridgertons don't know..."
Sophie raised the arm that wasn't clutching Benedict's gift, just for a moment, to convince herself that she hadn't imagined any of this. The figure before her—too magical to be real—went still. Sophie slowly traced his nose, his cheeks, and his lips with her fingers. His lips pressed a brief kiss to her calloused fingertip. Only then did Sophie exhale the breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding.
"I love you."
Why can I only say it this way? Why isn't there any other way to express this?
"I love you,"
Your plan, your gift, your love...
"I love you..."
I'm in love with you. Sophie smiled at him through still-glistening eyes. You just took my breath away and gave it back.
Seeing Sophie speak her emotion so fully, Benedict smiled back. He then asked with sudden curiosity.
"How do you say 'I love you' in Korean?"
Sophie thought for a moment, then answered.
"사랑해요."
"나도요. (Me too.)"
It took Sophie a few seconds to understand his joke. Hah. The tears and emotion faded quickly. Sophie rolled her eyes, as she always did whenever Benedict pulled his silly pranks. Benedict laughed like a mischievous boy. "Seriously, me too." Sophie pouted, then poked him in the chest as she spoke.
"한국어로 사랑이라는 말과 인생을 뜻하는 '삶'이라는 말은 비슷해요. (In Korean, the word for 'love' and the word for 'life' sound similar.)"
"Huh?"
Benedict asked, clearly taken aback.
"뭇 사람들은 사람을 살게 하는 게 사랑이라서 그렇게 붙였다고도 하더군요. (Some say it's because love is what keeps people alive.)"
"Wait, Sophie. I don't-"
"맞는 말 같아요. 당신을 알고 나서 진정으로 살아가는 것 같으니까요. (I guess that's true. Ever since I met you, I feel like I'm truly alive.)"
"Are you talking about me right now?"
Benedict's brow furrowed deeply. "You are talking about me, right? Was that a compliment? What exactly did you say?"
Sometimes Benedict pretends to be so stupid. But Sophie knows better. When it comes to love, Benedict has always been more gifted than Sophie. He's so confident he acts as though he could fill the absence of both a father's and a mother's love in Sophie's life. The remarkable thing is that he actually can. I want to be like that.
Benedict's goal is to make Sophie so accustomed to love that she's no longer surprised by it—but Sophie's goal is to surprise Benedict. I want to love you just as well as you love me.
But there's no need to rush. They would be married soon, and she would spend a lifetime learning him. Sophie wrapped her arms around Benedict's waist.
"I can't wait to get married."
Sophie grinned.
"There are so many things ahead of us."
She would wear the amethyst earrings every single day. They would give their child a name known only within the walls of Our Cottage. She would spend time admiring Benedict's masterpieces and failures alike. Sophie was ready. More than ready. She wanted every moment ahead of them. Their future would be far more tender than anything she could even imagine. Benedict's breath tickled her cheek.
"There are."