It is said that second-born sons have all the fun. This much is certainly true for Benedict Bridgerton, free from the burdens held by his eldest brother, the Viscount. One must wonder, how does the second eldest Bridgerton spend his time?
To the to...
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"Madeleine."
Benedict's eyes widened when her name left his lips and he quickly sat up as the girl at his knees halted her movements, staring up at him with an incredulous glare.
"Madeleine?!"
"I apologize, I-" She cut him off as he stumbled over his words to explain himself, sounding rather flustered. She scoffed and shook her head, quickly pulling her dress back on.
"You are just like every other man here, viewing women as nothing but sexual toys to exploit, no one lady is different from another." She turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, leaving him alone.
Benedict groaned and fell onto his back once again, covering his face with his hands. He could not believe he had just said that. He didn't even realize that Madeleine was on his mind, especially not while participating in what the two of them were just doing. He had never thought of her that way in his entire life, she was merely a friend and nothing more. He was incredibly frustrated with himself and he felt horrible for upsetting that woman, but he needed to get out of there at once. He pulled his clothes back on and attempted to make himself look less disheveled, before making his way downstairs.
He hurried toward the front door, ignoring any greetings and lingering gazes, sighing in relief when he was out of that crowded environment and in the fresh air.
"So this is where you ran off to, Stubbs?" His eyes widened as he heard Madeleine's voice, turning to see where it had come from.
Madeleine stood a few feet down the street, her maid standing awkwardly behind her.
"I can not speak to you right now, Madeleine." Benedict said coldly and turned, beginning to walk the other way. Madeleine frowned slightly, his use of her full name rather than her nickname not going unnoticed. She followed after him, struggling to match his fast stride.
"Benedict, will you just slow down? I'm going to rip my dress on this pavement if I must chase after you." She called after him, which he ignored. She rolled her eyes and continued after him, not one to give up.
"Benedict, please just stop! Speak to me, what is going on with you?!" She grabbed his arm, finally catching up to him as he slowed his pace.
"Madeleine, I can not-" He sighed, refusing to meet her eyes. "I must go. I can not do this right now." He yanked his arm out of her grasp, storming off once again.
She couldn't deny that she felt a bit hurt by his harsh tone, and she signaled to her maid that they could begin walking back. Her mind was racing with thoughts, wondering what Benedict could possibly be angry with her about. In the twenty plus years they had known each other, they had never had an argument. The two never stopped teasing each other and bickering, but neither had ever been truly mad at the other.
She returned home and quickly walked to her room before her mother could see her, knowing she would question her about being out so late in the evening. She sighed and plopped down on her bed, not bothering to change out of her shawl and dress. She racked her brain but could not think of anything that would make Benedict act so strangely toward her. They had been just fine dancing together and talking all night at the ball. She had to admit she noticed he was a bit quiet on the walk home, but she figured it was just a byproduct of the long night.
