𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒 | benedict bridgerton

DANCING WITH THE ENEMY

*re-edited*

"What? Why?" Daphne's neatly combed brows furrowed at her usually joyous younger brother. His normally crinkling eyes are dark and angered. "She is frankly distasteful and rude, not to mention her awful mannerisms," He fretted. Daphne smiled, looking up at him through her hair. 

"Is this about Lady Whistledown's paper?" She queried, humoured, and Benedict shook his head, spinning his sister. Her dress glittered in the sunlight. 

"I do not wish to talk to the woman ever again, she denied my help and insulted my pride," He raised his head high, a grimace present on his face. "God, you're beginning to sound like Anthony," Daphne shook her head giggling. "I do not," Benedict rejected but Daphne chuckled, spinning herself off to another dancing man. 

"Oh God," Benedict complained when Marie spun into his arms. The pink silk rippled off her body in the perfect circle. "Do not use the Lord's name in vain," She smiled childishly, her joke humourous to herself. She stared at her feet, scared that she would mess up the steps. It happened regularly at her mother's balls, causing many courteous refusals from Lords when she asked for another dance. 

"Do not tell me how to speak," Benedict snapped, unhappy about his predicament. Marie's brown doe eyes looked up at Benedict, realising he was the mysterious man from the previous ball. She couldn't help but notice the way the sunlight lasered through the conservatory's round glass ceiling and made his hair glow. His waistcoat was dark and suited his tanned skin. 

"Oh, you," She smiled softly, watching his large brown eyes narrow at her. He spun her, her dress fluttering out in a beautiful arc before pulling her into his chest. Their hands touched, she was encased in white gloves to match the diamonds her Godmother had given her to wear. 

"I would like to apologise about yesterday, I was in a fret and I was rude," She smiled, showing her polished teeth. The more she looked at him, the more she noticed him. His round eyes, the clean-shaven jawline, his ruffled hair. 

"You do understand that you have caused my family terrible publicity problems, we cannot afford a scandal when my sister is in look for a husband," He argued through his teeth, looking down at her. 

Marie's dark eyes widened when she acknowledged his tone. Her stubbornness hardened, her figure spinning once more before walking back into his chest. "How dare you speak to me like that. I have heard of no such scandal," She bit back, confused as to where his anger was coming from. "I am trying to apologise."

"Do you not read Lady Whistledown? Everyone in the Ton does," He urged, rolling his eyes at the foreign girl. "Qui?" She raised her eyebrows, getting more and more fed up with his attitude. She had apologised, "God, never mind" He mumbled sulkily. 

"Well, I am sorry if this apparent scandal has got you all riled up," She jested, but Benedict didn't sense the sarcasm. "Yes, I'm sure your parents have had enough of you with those horrid unladylike manners," He seethed through his teeth. He had read about the Princess in the news.

Marie visibly stepped back, hurt displayed across her face. Their dance stopped although it continued around them. This stranger had no right to intrude on her personal life. Benedict, however, was too angry to see the distress on her features. 

"I take back my apology," She seethed at him, letting go of his hand and storming off the dance floor, casting eyes to them. Benedict watched her leave, breathing harshly before noticing all the public's gaze was on him. 

He quickly left the dance floor, bumping into Anthony who placed a large hand on his shoulder. "Benedict, what was that? You're damaging our reputation!" Anthony scolded. The Viscount was trying to hold it together.