Work Text:
Benedict stepped into the Bridgerton residence. He narrowly avoided two servants who were moving carpets. He felt as though he had entered a battlefield. Everyone in the house was in a frenzy. His mother once again had the honor of hosting the first ball of the season. It was a great source of pride for her, but also a source of stress, as she hoped everything would be perfect.
Yet for Benedict, no ball could ever compare to the one where he had met her. That masked young woman in a silver gown. His mysterious stranger, whom he had never been able to forget.
He made his way to the drawing room, where his mother awaited him for tea. When she had invited him, he had accepted without hesitation. He seized every opportunity to visit the Bridgerton home in the hope of seeing her. Sophie. Her name echoed like a sweet melody in his mind.
Ever since he had rescued her and brought her back to Mayfair, she had haunted his every thought. Her beauty, her intelligence, her grace… He had never felt anything like it. Except for the stranger at the ball. How could he feel the same for two women so different ? Sometimes he even dreamed they were one and the same. But the more time passed, the more he felt Sophie taking up space in his heart. He would always cherish the memory of the masked woman, but he had resigned himself to never discovering who she truly was.
Benedict opened the door to the drawing room. His mother was seated in a velvet armchair. A maid was serving tea. The air was filled with the scent of vanilla, bergamot, and freshly baked pastries. Violet delicately took the flowered teacup the young woman handed her. A smile lit up her face when she saw her son enter.
“Benedict. I’m delighted you could come.”
He kissed her cheek and sat across from her.
“Are Eloise and Hyacinth not here ?” He asked.
“They’re in town for the final fittings of their gowns for the ball.”
Benedict nodded. He longed to ask whether Sophie had accompanied them, but he held his tongue. He had learned that his sisters had grown fond of the young woman and spent a great deal of time with her.
As if she had read his thoughts, Violet added :
“Sophie is with them.”
Benedict said nothing. He tried to hide his disappointment by taking a sip of tea. He knew he would not see her today. His sisters would surely be gone for the entire day.
He spent the next hour discussing the preparations for the ball with his mother, doing his best to steer the conversation away each time she mentioned the unmarried young ladies who would be attending. He knew she wanted him to find happiness as she had with his father, but none of those women could ever make him happy.
He left the residence without having caught even a glimpse of Sophie.
******
The evening of the ball arrived. Guests, dressed in their finest attire, streamed into the Bridgerton home. Benedict watched the various families enter. He knew he would be one of the attractions of the evening. Still unmarried, he would draw the attention of every mother eager to present him with her marriageable daughters. He would have to be clever to avoid them. Perhaps he could act as escort to one of his sisters.
He hurried inside when he spotted Mrs. Harrington and her two daughters heading toward him. He slipped into the ballroom. His mother had worked wonders organizing the event, and from the snippets of conversation he overheard, the guests all seemed to agree.
Benedict scanned the room. It had become a habit at every event of this kind. His gaze always searched for a woman in a silver gown, even though he knew it was impossible.
His thoughts drifted to another young woman who now held an important place in his heart. Of course, it was impossible that she be among the guests. Suddenly, something caught his attention. Hidden behind the doorway were Sophie and two other servants. Benedict felt ashamed that he could not recall their names. His mother had taught him to respect the staff. But at that moment, he saw only Sophie. The rest of the world seemed to fade away.
She watched the dancers with wonder, surely dreaming of joining them. A wild idea crossed Benedict’s mind. He wanted to go to her and ask her to dance. He restrained himself with great effort. He could not.
A few seconds later, she disappeared, leaving the two servants to watch the ball. Without thinking, Benedict went after her. He slipped through the crowd, almost running. Fortunately, he was agile enough to avoid bumping into anyone. The two servants looked at him in surprise as he hurried past them. He greeted them, trying to compose himself. They must not suspect anything. He did not want rumors spreading about him and Sophie.
He slowed his pace, feeling watched. He eventually found Sophie at the turn of a corridor. She gasped in surprise, not expecting to see him, and stopped abruptly. Her breath caught, and so did his. For a moment, they stood frozen.
“Mr. Bridgerton ! I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you.”
“You have nothing to apologize for. On the contrary, I’m delighted to see you.”
She bit her lip, as if holding back a smile.
“Are you enjoying the evening ?” He asked.
“You know very well I’m not invited.”
Benedict smiled, almost teasing.
“I saw you, with your friends, admiring the dancers.”
Sophie lowered her gaze, embarrassed.
“I know we shouldn’t have.”
“Don’t worry. You did nothing wrong. But I also saw something else.”
“What is it ?”
“Your desire to dance with them.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but no sound came out. Benedict leaned slightly toward her and held out his hand.
“Will you grant me this dance ?”
Sophie looked at his hand, hesitant.
“You know we can’t,” she whispered.
She meant it was improper. That they did not belong to the same world. Benedict cursed the situation once again. If only they had been born into the same social class, what he felt for her would be so simple. But even if he could not reveal his feelings to the world, he could at least share this dance.
“We’re alone,” he said. “No one will see us.”
She still hesitated.
“Unless you’re unsure because you don’t know how to dance. I can teach you.”
Suddenly, the image of the masked woman in the silver gown flashed through his mind. The dance they had shared. He tried to push the memory away. In that moment, only Sophie mattered. She looked up sharply, as if his remark had jolted her.
“I have danced before. I was taught.”
Benedict’s heart tightened. Who had taught her ? The servant she had been with earlier ? Someone from another household where she had worked ? Or her father, when she was a child ? He pushed the thoughts aside. He would not ruin this moment with jealousy. He looked into her eyes and saw she was on the verge of accepting.
“Just one dance,” he said.
She placed her hand in his, and he could not help but smile. He gently drew her closer, his hand sliding to the small of her back. She inhaled sharply, surprised by the closeness. Music drifted faintly from the ballroom. Hesitant at first, Sophie eventually let herself be guided. Her fingers curled against Benedict’s shoulder.
He tightened his hold slightly. He lowered his head, his nose almost brushing her hair. He could smell her intoxicating scent, feel her breath against his skin, sending shivers down his spine. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her. To feel her lips yield beneath his. But he held back. He feared she would pull away and shatter the moment. Instead, he drew her a little closer. She responded by leaning in, almost imperceptibly, as if drawn to him despite herself.
The music stopped. Sophie stepped back at once, as though waking from a dream too intense. The spell was broken. Benedict knew it was time to let her go.
“Thank you for the dance.”
He took her hand gently and brought it to his lips. He felt her tremble slightly at the touch. She was just as shaken as he was, though she tried to hide it.
Benedict understood she was thinking once more of their social differences, of the impossibility of them ever being together. The moment was over, and it broke his heart, just as he suspected it broke hers.
“I must return to work. Please excuse me, Mr. Bridgerton.”
He nodded and let her go. What else could he do ? He watched her walk away, his heart heavy.
He took a deep breath and returned to the ballroom.
The end