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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The thunder crashed outside as the rain poured down his window and Benedict sighed, barely able to focus on his sketch. Every so often, he glanced out the window at the Sinclair house, wondering what was happening there. A knock on the door caught his attention and he looked up as one of the maids popped her head in.
"Mr. Bridgerton, Miss Sinclair is here to see you. She is in the garden, she says she will not leave until she speaks to you." Benedict's eyebrows furrowed in confusion and he stood, walking over to the window.
Benedict narrowed his eyebrows as the girl paced around in the backyard, paying no attention the rain pouring down. Her arms were wrapped around herself in place of a shawl and she shivered while she paced. Benedict grabbed a spare jacket of his off of his chair and head downstairs, opening the back door to the garden. Madeleine looked up at the sound of the door opening and he couldn't help but think that her expression resembled that of a lost and panicked child.
Madeleine walked up to him and he couldn't tell whether her face was wet with tears or with rain, but he had a feeling it was both.
"Benedict, I'm sorry, I know you hate me and I'm the last person you want to see right now but I just.. I didn't know where else to go." She let out a sob and Benedict quickly pulled her into his arms, shushing her softly. He tried to urge her inside the house but she shook her head, mumbling something into his chest about how she couldn't face everyone right now. He pulled the jacket around her, resting his chin on her head as she cried.
"Madeleine, I do not hate you. I could never hate you. And I am always here for you, no matter how angry I might be, you can always come to me." He squeezed her gently, trying to warm her shivering figure in his arms.
She looked up at him with teary eyes and his heart broke at the pure sadness on her face.
"My mother.. she was sick. And this morning.. She did not.." She sobbed again, unable to form the horrible words. Benedict noted her use of the past tense and his lips parted, pulling her into another tight embrace.
"Oh, Madeleine. I am so sorry. Please, come inside. I will make you some tea and you can borrow some of Daphne's clothes. I promise you will not have to talk to anyone." He gently ran his hand through her hair, which was now dripping wet, and he felt her nod slowly against his embrace.
He gently guided her inside, keeping his jacket wrapped tightly around her. He quickly ushered her up to his room to avoid running into anybody, and he sat her down at the edge of the bed.
"Let's get you warmed up, and then we can talk. I can not let you go back home in this state." He wiped her tears gently and she grabbed his hand, holding it in hers tightly. He could tell she wanted to say something but it seemed as though she could barely speak.
"You can stay here tonight if you would like." He practically read her mind, and she looked at him with thankful eyes, nodding softly. She could not go back to that house right now, she couldn't bear it.
