The Second Born Bridgerton // Benedict Bridgerton

House arrest

Unlike my three sisters, I do receive callers. Although they are largely in the minority compared to the number of callers that Marina Thompson receives, and apparently there were men entering the Bridgerton house across the street rather non stop. This was no bother to me, if I did not marry then I did not marry. And as much as I attempted all morning, as I had attempted to all evening and well into the night, to convince myself that I did neither expect nor want Benedict Bridgerton to call for me, I must say I was disappointed when he did not. More than disappointed, in fact. I could not explain what I felt currently, when I did realise he had not come to offer his hand. My mother shares these sentiments. "Peaches, I am sure that you spent most of your time with the bridgerton boy, did you not? And yet he did not show to call, that is rather preposterous. He did take up so much of your time when you could have been talking to other suitors."

"Yes, mother." I say nothing more, only scowling and heading upstairs to my room, taking one of my bouquets of flowers with me, these ones are beautiful enough that I decide I shall paint them, and so I retriever a blank canvas and take my paints, sitting down on my bed. I do not get a moment alone, Penelope quickly allows herself into my room without question and closes the door behind her. "Can I help you, Pen?"

"Which one?" She pushes her back to the door, her hands forced against it, letting out a hopeless sigh.

I watch her for a brief moment, and I cannot understand her question. "Which one, Pen? What on earth do you mean?"

"Which bridgerton boy?" She strides from the door, sitting down on my bed and slumping back as though she has no energy left in her to pretend. This is a state I so often find myself in, and I do find it reassuring that someone else does feel the same. "Is it Anthony, Benedict or... or Colin?"

I realise what she is asking me now. Penelope has been in love with Colin since we were only children, and I should have known that would be what she was asking of me. "Oh, dear Pen. It is truly none of them, but most certainly not Colin. It was only Benedict that I spoke to alone, the conversation I had with Colin was whilst you were present. You really needn't worry."

She let's out a sigh of relief, as though the largest weight has been lifted off her shoulders, and as though she can finally breathe once again. "Oh, well that is good. I would not wish for it to... to... well be... uh, Anthony. I have heard that he does rather enjoy the company of improper women, not like ourselves, and I would not wish for my younger sister to fall in love with... someone that she cannot have... someone that would never look at her as though she were anything other than a friend, or a good acquaintance... someone that cannot ever love her back..."

"Pen, I am well aware of your affections for Colin, and I do believe you are lucky that he has not recognised them as of yet. Sometimes I do wonder whether you are even friends with eloise or whether you spend your time there gazing at Colin." I tease her, and I know that she is not in the mood for teasing, and yet I do do anyway. I have often found that I simply cannot stop myself. That is when she angrily and hastily stands back up and leaves my room without another word. I cannot resist having another chuckle to myself, before I remove my dress and begin to unfasten my corset.

This is quite a job without a lady to assist me, but since I share ladies with Philipa and Prudence, I am hardly ever given any assistance. They are always so demanding that there is no time to help anyone else. Just as I am removing the tight and awkward thing, and as I feel as though I can finally breathe once again, I look out of my window at the bridgerton house across the street, and I am shocked when I see the very boy I seem to have spent the last day discussing looking back at me. I do not know what to do first, whether to scowl or whether to pull the curtains closed or whether I should wave or whether I should smile. Instead, I decide to quickly cover myself up, knowing how my mother would react if she knew that a man had seen me in any state of undress, even if this was only through a bedroom window. Once I have done this, I see that he waves to me, and I so I offer him a wave back. His hand begins to form into another signal, of which I have to lean a little closer to the window to decipher, but I do believe that it is an attempt to ask me to go downstairs. I shake my head, standing so that my body is wrapped around my curtain and only my face is visible any longer. His hand movements become more insistent and the smile on his face becomes wider, and so I give in, and I pull my dress back to my chest and refasten it, making my way down the stairs.

"Peaches, a parcel arrived for you." My mother waves her hand absent mindedly as she cradles a drink in her hand. Her lady hands it to me, and I take it from her, thanking her and rushing back up to my room.

I place it onto my bed and click the door shut behind me, biting my lip ever slightly in anticipation as to what he has sent me. Then, remembering that my window still allows me to be seen clear by him, I restrain my excitement. I unwrap the parcel carefully, to find that there is a sketch book inside it, and it does not take me a moment to deduce that it must be sketches of his own that he wishes for me to critique as we joked about. There is a letter that accompanies it, and so I open that, scanning it for the words.

"Dearest Peaches,

I am strictly on house arrest for the day, Anthony has insisted that we stay to greet all of Daphne's potential suitors. I do not understand why it must involve me, but Anthony's sideburns make him seem ever so serious and so I shall not dare to question him.

I have sent you my sketches as I said I would. I pray you shall be kind, not all of us can have an eye for art such as yourself. I must admit I found the naked angel babies rather tasteful until you told me otherwise.

I cannot be present to be a caller today but I do hope you shall take this as a token that we shall have many more riveting conversations in the future.

Yours,

Benedict Bridgerton."