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Benedict arrived unusually early for tea at Bridgerton House and Violet could not hide her amazement at his early arrival.
“Benedict, You’ve come! How lovely to see you. You are just in time, dear. The biscuits are still warm from the oven.”
He bussed her cheek lightly before helping himself to a plate while his mother quizzed him about his evening. Had any of the young ladies caught his eye? Did he have plans to call on anyone? Perhaps a promenade was in order today.
His mother was nothing if not invested in his future happiness.
“In fact, I did meet a lovely young lady last night, mother, and I have decided not to let a single day go by without calling on her.”
“Well then, whatever are you doing here, dear?”
“There is always time for family.” He turned to track his little sister entering the drawing room. “Family before all else. Don’t you think, Eloise?”
Violet had smiled sweetly, pleased with her son, not noticing the alarmed look on Eloise’s face before she composed herself and flopped down to slouch on the settee, as was her wont.
“Look who has graced us with his presence. Isn’t it rather early for you, brother?”
Ah. She intended to brazen things out, then. To pretend that nothing had happened between them last night at the masquerade. That she hadn’t kissed him, with full knowledge of who she was pressing her lips to.
It would not do.
Benedict didn’t pass up the chance to sit himself next to her. His usual spot, as far as everyone was concerned. If he was, perhaps, a little closer to Eloise than usual, it certainly wasn’t enough for anyone to notice or comment on.
Her offered her his plate and was pleased to note that she softened a bit at the gesture, before huffing, unfolding her arms, and grabbing a warm biscuit to nibble on.
He kept up a stream of idle chitchat with his mother and siblings, making sure to nudge Eloise occasionally, or roll his eyes in a way he knew would garner a chuckle from her, and soon found himself agreeing with his mother’s wish that he take Eloise out promenading at the appropriate hour later in the afternoon. Agreeing was no hardship.
“After the calling hour, I assure you I will be back to escort Eloise, mother. We will convince all the mamas of the Ton that they have a chance to pair their offspring with a Bridgerton, will we not Eloise?”
She didn’t look happy with him at all, but she nodded with a curt, “Of course,” before excusing herself from the room.
——————————————
Eloise decided that she must take advantage of Benedict’s absence this afternoon, along with the relative diversion of the rest of her siblings, to get the silver dress tucked away back in the attic.
Surely, putting it away would allow her to put the whole incident away. To forget her little night of madness, and pretend it had never happened.
What else could she do? There was nothing else to be done.
At least it seemed that Benedict was oblivious to her ruse. He’d not recognized her last night, and he’d behaved normally today. He certainly hadn’t avoided her, or acted oddly, and surely he would have done so if he’d realized his sister had kissed him?
It seemed clear that she just needed to put this all behind her, and the first step would be to hide the evidence.
At this point, having the gown found, even by a maid, would bring up questions that she could not answer. Would bring those questions to the attention of her mother.
Questions that could expose everything that had happened.
If her mother got wind of any secret, Eloise knew she would be like a terrier with a bone, questioning everyone until she had her answers. Even a single question to Hyacinth would be enough to expose their exchange of costumes. And if her ruse was exposed there was no way that all of her siblings wouldn’t hear of it.
Including Benedict.
He would know she had fooled him. Know he’d kissed her. Know that she’d kissed him. It wouldn’t matter that there had been attraction between them, surely he would be disgusted with her if he uncovered the truth.
But Benedict seemed to be blithely going about his life as usual — was off to call on some young lady he’d met! Of all things.
Of course he would go out to call on some young lady, after asking to call on her barely five minutes after encountering her in the garden, without knowing who she was. Of course he’d found someone else to call on so quickly. He’d probably found an easy handful of young ladies to go call on.
She should not be surprised. Benedict had always had a way with the ladies. She knew this. Being hurt over it was… ridiculous. She was his sister.
It was ridiculous. But it did not stop her from absolutely stomping into her room and making a mess of her bedding in an effort to retrieve the silver dress, mask and glove…
Dear god. Glove.
There was only one glove.
Benedict must still have the other.
There on her knees next to her bed, Eloise froze with the long silvery glove in her hand, recalling every moment of Benedict slowly drawing its twin from her arm.
The heat in his eyes. His hand cradling her elbow. His lips on her palm.
Her whole body heated. Who might have ever guessed that one’s palm could be so sensitive?
Would she have felt the same way if another man had kissed her in such a way? She tried to imagine Lord Cho or Lord Fife kissing her palm, or running their lips over her wrist, and shuddered in revulsion.
No, it was not the act itself, or not just the act itself. It was the fact that it had been Benedict’s lips. Benedict’s heated gaze.
And perhaps, that heated gaze had affected her so because he was forbidden to her.
She’d always been a contrarian. Eloise knew this about herself. She had a particular talent for wanting the things in her life that she was not allowed to have.
But this wasn’t a man’s education, a man’s choices, or a man’s freedom that she longed to have for herself.
This was Benedict. Her Benedict.
No. Not hers.
Eloise roughly stuffed the mask and glove together before rolling it into a rough bundle with the dress, until the entirety was an unidentifiable mass of satin. Her lady’s maid would have been horrified to see it.
She must get this behind her, now.
Benedict was going about his life like normal. She must as well.
Eloise peeped out the door of her bedroom to ascertain the hallway was deserted.
In no time at all she could put this entire ill-fated endeavor behind her. She would stash the dress in the old trunk Hyacinth claimed to have found it in - presumably in the storage space near the nursery. She’d said a trunk marked with an ‘R’, though surely it wouldn’t matter so much, where she actually packed it away, rather just that it was packed away. Not to be uncovered again. Not in this lifetime, anyway.
She hadn’t counted on meeting the one person, above all, whom she did not wish to see in that moment, but there was Benedict, long legs carrying him up the staircase toward her at astonishing speed.
“Sister. Just who I was looking for.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be calling on a young lady, Benedict?”
“And so I am. I wished to speak with you,” his gaze traveled to the lump of fabric in her hands, “Have I interrupted?”
“Just an old gown of Hyacinth’s.” That was at least a partial truth. She’d never been talented at prevaricating around her brother. “I promised to pack it away for her.”
“Surely a better job for one of the maids, Eloise.”
She hurried her step toward the nursery. “It is no trouble. We really should treat our staff better, you know. They are servants, not slaves, Benedict.”
He’d heard this particular diatribe more than once, and didn’t disagree with it on principle. But if he was not mistaken, the misshapen bundle in her arms was the silver gown she’d masqueraded in the night before. And just there, two silken fingers trailed out of a fold in the fabric. A pale silvery glove, if he was not mistaken.
He decided to play along. “I couldn’t agree more, of course. Abominable, the way so many take their servants for granted. Let me help you, sister.”
He opened the door to the nursery for her, before shutting it firmly behind them.
Eloise made her way past one of his easels, and around the little tea table, beelining for the small door inset off to the side of the room.
“Let me get that door for you.”
“I’m fine, Benedict. Just wait here, I’ll be right out.” She was moving at quite a clip, and had opened the little door that led to the long ‘attic’ area, which ran nearly the length of Bridgerton House.
Benedict decided that this might be the moment.
He followed her into the little attic, immediately transported back to a time in his childhood when he’d played among the discarded items here.
“Eloise.”
She hadn’t stopped, and was looking around rather frantically.
“Really, Benedict, you’ll get dirty coming in here. Just… wait. Outside.”
“I think you’ve dropped something, Eloise.”
That got her attention.
She swung around to face him, blowing an errant lock of hair out of her eye, before looking down to check the little bundle in her arms, and then looking up at him again. “What are you talking about?”
He reached his hand inside his jacket, and there, from his breast pocket, he slowly pulled a long stretch of pale silver satin.
He let it rest over the palm of his other hand, offering it to her.
“Your glove, El. In case you’d like to pack it away, with the rest.”
The look on her face surpassed shock. He was afraid, for the first time in his life, that Eloise might actually swoon on him.
“Ben…” Her eyes swung wildly between the glove and him, but words, for once, seemed to escape her.
“It’s alright, El. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you last night that I knew. Of course I knew. Did you truly think I wouldn’t recognize you anywhere?”
“You didn’t say…”
“You were having fun with your game. Playing pretend. And, I’ll admit, I wanted to play with you.”
“My… game. Yes. Of course.”
He nudged a large open trunk lightly with the toe of his polished Hessian, “Is this the trunk you’re looking for?”
“Hm?” She snapped herself to attention, turning to the trunk. “R. Yes. I think that must be it.” And then Eloise unceremoniously dumped the bundle in her arms into the trunk.
Benedict stopped her before she could close it. “I’m fairly certain that is not how ladies gowns should be stored away, El.”
He leaned over to retrieve the bundle, shook it out, and watched the mask and glove fall onto the pile of clothing beneath. Gently, he folded the lovely garment. It had a special place in his heart now. And then he bent to fold the long silver glove. The other, he returned to his coat pocket, unwilling to part with it, before finally lifting the mask in his hands.
She watched it all, mutely, wide-eyed and uncertain.
He turned to her. “May I?” Without waiting for a response, for he wasn’t truly sure if Eloise could respond in that moment, he placed the mask on her face and tied the silken ribbons behind her head.
He cupped her jaw tenderly. “Does this make it easier?”
“Make what easier?” Her voice was husky and low.
He answered by wrapping his hand behind her neck and pulling her in for a gentle brush of his lips against hers. “This, love.” Another brush, and another.
He felt the moment her body unfroze, the moment she sucked in a little gulp of air before bracing her hands against his chest just as she had the night before, and returning his kiss.
She’d learned, already. Remembered, apparently, from their brief kiss in the moonlight what he’d taught her. How to angle her mouth just so. How to move her lips against his. And when he licked against the seam of her mouth she opened for him so beautifully.
His hand tightened in her hair, drawing her closer. Crushing her to him, he was afraid, but it could not be helped. Eloise was passion, and life, and the promise of every beautiful thing that made the days worth living.
He did not know when he would have stopped their kiss. How he would have stopped it. If he would have been able to stop it.
Eloise was the one to draw back, breathing hard, sending her little bosom once more heaving against the neckline of her gown. Benedict could not help but think of how she’d looked the night before, compared to now in the dusty light filtering in through the cloudy window glass.
She’d been a dream last night. Ethereal. A goddess come to life.
Now, she was earthly. Here. Real in his arms.
He’d never regret losing the fantasy if it meant he might get to have this reality.
He fingered the silk tie at the back of her head before tugging the ribbon free, and catching the mask.
Gently, he ran his thumb over her full bottom lip, smiling at her as he did.
“You don’t need the mask, El. I’m here. Always. When you are ready.”
Eyes still wide, she nodded.
Benedict turned to place the precious mask gently atop the silvery gown before lowering the trunk lid on both.
“For now, let’s let it stay hidden, here.”
She cleared her throat softly. “Alright.”
He held out his arm to her. “Come. We have an appointment to promenade, do we not? I have plans to be seen with the most beautiful woman of the season.”
He had to restrain a laugh at the fit of pique that swept across her face. “And who might that be?”
“El.” He pulled her into his side, hugging her stiff body close, “It’s you, you silly chit. You are the beautiful woman.” He pushed back to look her in the eye, her shoulders firmly in his hands, “You’re the most beautiful woman I know. The only one I really see. Understand?” She scoffed a little at him, but he saw the pleased smile on her lips before he kissed the top of her head.
“Now let us grace Rotten Row with the sight of the Bridgerton siblings out for a promenade. Something that I plan to get them used to seeing every day of the season.”
“Every day, Benedict? Surely we cannot. That seems excessive.”
“Mother has been wishing for me to be a more active chaperone for you Eloise. To take you in hand. And in this, I plan to give her exactly what she wants.”