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holybatgirlz · 6 months

Text

You're eyes whispered "Have we met?"

Read it on Ao3

Summary:

…and finally, Mr. Benedict Bridgerton, second son of the dowager Viscountess Violet Bridgerton and the late Viscount Edmund Bridgerton, is happy to announce his engagement to the young Miss Sophia Beckett, daughter of the late Charles and Maria Beckett of Wiltshire and ward to the late earl of Penwood. They plan to hold their wedding in late June…

Waking up to the news you're engaged is certainly a surprise. Especially when you have no recollection of a proposal ever happening.

Word count: 9.9k+

Notes: This was going to be my final entry to Benophie week back in June, but I didn’t finish it in time. But here it is finally. And yes, I know, I already have a fake dating fic (that I need to finish) but I read the summary for “Not the Kind of Earl You Would Marry” and started thinking about it relating to Benophie. Which is never a good sign.

Sophie had never particularly enjoyed the marriage announcements part of the morning paper.

It wasn't that she hated them, they were the announcements of other people's happiness. Those whose lives were far more privileged and more straightforward than her own. Uncomplicated by poverty and abuse like hers. She knew she shouldn't be bitter and jealous, but she couldn't help it. They left her wondering what their lives were like. Fantasizing about how they had met and fallen in love, hoping they were all love matches.

All it did was make the reality of her situation even worse.

Usually, she ignored them. It wasn't as if she actually had the time to sit down and read them over, to begin with, but today was different.

When she came downstairs and found Mrs. Gibbons and the cook with expressions of dread and worry on their faces, she grew concerned. A pit formed in her stomach as she watched the housekeeper approach her. Mrs. Gibbons didn't say anything as she handed her the paper and pointed to a paragraph hidden amongst the announcements column. It is right at the bottom and barely noticeable at first. Until she saw the names.

Recognized the names.

…and finally, Mr. Benedict Bridgerton, second son of the dowager Viscountess Violet Bridgerton and the late Viscount Edmund Bridgerton is happy to announce his engagement to the young Miss Sophia Beckett, daughter of the late Charles and Maria Beckett of Wiltshire and ward of the late earl of Penwood. They plan to hold their wedding in late June…

Nothing but pure panic laced through her, freezing her to her core as she read it. As if her blood was being replaced with ice. Sophie was at a loss for words. Her body turned to marble, as if her brain had just stopped working. She no longer knew how to speak, think, or breathe.

But she knew exactly what would happen if Araminta saw it.

And unfortunately, as Sophie stood, trembling in the kitchen, trying to think up a way to hide this news from her stepmother, the butler had already unknowingly delivered the other copy to her upstairs as she readied herself for the day. The loud, shrill scream of Sophie's name reverberating throughout Penwood House confirmed that.

How on earth it was that she had ended up engaged to the man of her dreams was beyond Sophie's knowledge. She never left Penwood House (save for that one night two months ago), and she certainly did not interact with those of the other sex (save for that one night two months ago).

And that wasn't even the worst part.

It was that she was engaged to the man of her dreams.

~~~

Benedict woke up to the sight of his elder brother towering over him.

It took him a minute to recognize it was Anthony standing next to his bed. There was a dull throb in his skull he hadn't yet slept off, the result of his drinking choices the night prior after he had, once again, failed to find the Lady in Silver.

Blinking away the sleep from his eyes and realizing it was his brother, Benedict frowned. How the hell had Anthony gotten into his lodgings? Benedict was going to have to speak to his valet, Graves, about this.

"Good morning, brother," he said slowly. Benedict was concerned about how his brother had gotten in and why he was bothering him so early in the morning.

Glancing down, Benedict quickly remembered he was currently naked underneath the bed sheet that was covering his lower body. Grabbing it, he slowly pulled it upwards over his chest, making sure he was fully covered before he looked back to his brother and added. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"What on earth were you thinking?" Anthony asked, no, demanded from him, glaring down at him with his furious I'm-the-viscount-and-you'll-do-as-I-say look that had never swayed or affected Benedict.

"That another drink wasn't a terrible idea," he groaned back, rubbing his hands over his face in an effort to wake himself up. "You didn't answer my question. What are you doing here?"

"Oh no. You do not get to play games with me right now, Benedict. Do you have any idea what your actions have caused? What they've done to mother? She's been in a state all morning since she found out," Anthony informed him furiously.

Benedict's confused frown only deepened as he stared up at his brother. While he was a drinker, he'd certainly never been the type to be the fool while intoxicated (minus the one occasion with drug-infused tea courtesy of his brother). Usually, he was just overly cheerful or depressed, but that was when he was alone. He doubted he'd done anything to bring shame on his family name. Let alone frazzle his mother.

"I'm confused. What exactly is it that you think I've done?" he asked back.

"Your engagement," Anthony snapped. "You've broken our mother's heart by not telling her any of this."

Benedict stared at his brother in silence before the confused frown on his face shifted to a smile. He couldn't help it. He started laughing.

Which only infuriated his already furious brother.

"Why are you laughing?" Anthony once again demanded as Benedict continued chuckling.

"Because I'm not engaged," he retorted between breaths.

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes. You. Are."

"I think I would know if I was, brother."

"There is an announcement. Benedict."

"What announcement?"

The vein bulging in Anthony's forehead looked about to burst. Clearing his throat, his brother lifted the paper he'd been holding this entire time and read it out to him.

"Mr. Benedict Bridgerton, second son of the dowager Viscountess Violet Bridgerton and the late Viscount Edmund Bridgerton, is happy to announce his engagement to the young Miss Sophia Beckett, daughter of the late Charles and Maria Beckett of Wiltshire and the ward of the late earl of Penwood. They plan to hold their wedding in late June," he said with a dramatic flourish that barely concealed his annoyance.

The laughing ceased immediately. The humor of this situation disappeared in a puff of smoke as Benedict stared at his brother in disbelief.

"What do you mean there is an announcement in the paper?" Benedict sat up and snatched the paper from him, believing this to be nothing more than a lie. A bold-faced prank his brother was pulling on him.

He scoured the page until he found the announcement in the bottom right corner. The last one. Almost hidden away, he found his name staring back at him mockingly, next to the name of a woman he did not know.

Staring at the little paragraph in shock, he'd hoped he could just blink, and it would magically fade away, or that his brother would tell him this was all just some sick joke.

And besides that, who the hell was Sophia Beckett?

"You seriously don't know?" Anthony asked, now the one who was confused. And concerned.

"Anthony, I swear, I'm not engaged, and I certainly did not announce one to the public," Benedict replied, his voice almost shaking from the shock of what he'd just read. Praying that his brother would believe him.

But he did. It was Anthony, for crying out loud. His brother knew immediately that he was being truthful with him. The rigid, tense posture relaxed as he shifted from furious Viscount to supportive older brother, recognizing they had been had. The implications of a false engagement on Benedict and their family led Anthony's anger to slowly shift and be directed toward whoever was at fault for this.

"We'll figure this out," he told him gently. "Get dressed. We'll head to the printer's shop and find out what happened."

Benedict groaned as he realized another problem. "I need to explain this to mother."

"We'll tell her on the way," Anthony patted him supportively on the shoulder. "Get dressed. Come on."

After hastily dressing, Benedict departed from his lodgings with his brother, not even bothering to shave as they were in too much of a rush. He hopped into the carriage behind his brother, spending the entire trip feeling as if he'd throw up his heart, given it felt as if it was sitting in his throat now, beating wildly. He wouldn't even look out the window, couldn't actually. He feared someone would recognize him from behind the glass.

His anxieties got the better of him as they traveled the short distance to Number 5. His mind was overwhelmed by guilt and worry. How on earth was he supposed to explain this to his mother? God, she must have been furious with him.

They entered the home quickly once they'd arrived, and Benedict found his mother pacing the front foyer, rambling to herself. Kate was there as well, and it was apparent she'd spent the past God knows how many minutes trying to calm her down as his youngest siblings were perched on the stairs, watching the scene unfold.

"Benedict!" his mother cried out as she spotted him, rushing towards him.

"Here we go," Benedict muttered.

"Good luck," Anthony whispered, patting him on the back as their mother stopped in front of them.

"How could you not tell me?" was the first question out of his mother's mouth, voice laced with pain and a distraught look on her face that tugged at Benedict's heart. He hated upsetting her.

"Mother, I-" Benedict started.

"Did you truly believe I would be against this?"

"No, I just-"

"Have I offended you somehow? Made you believe I would not support you?"

"Of course not. Mother, this is just some-"

"What did I do to make you believe you had to go behind my back?"

"Mother, I swear I-"

"I never wanted any of you to believe you had to keep your love for another to yourself. If you had just come to me, Benedict, I would have been more than welcome to give you my blessing. I could care less if Miss Beckett is a ward. If you are in love with her, then you have my full support," his mother rambled on.

"Mother. Mother!" Benedict placed his hands on her shoulders, stopping her in her tracks. "I'm not getting married. I do not even know the woman."

"Oh!" his mother looked momentarily surprised at the news, bright blue eyes wide, before she blinked at him, then frowned. "But there is an announcement."

"Which I assure you, I did not make," Benedict explained.

"Well, then, who on earth did?" she loudly asked, aghast now.

"That is something we would all like to know," Anthony replied. He'd gone to stand by his wife now, greeting her with a kiss on the cheek.

"I have no idea," Benedict said, answering his mother's question. "Anthony and I are going to the printer's shop today to figure out how this happened. We'll get them to retract it. I promise."

"Well, it's a little late for that now," his mother told him with a little huff. "And even if we can get a statement out to reverse this, we'll have to figure out a way to explain what's happened."

"Thankfully, Whistledown arrived before the newspaper did," Hyacinth said.

"Even she did not know," Gregory added.

"Well, Whistledown won't be able to know anything since there is no truth to any of this," Benedict replied quickly, his aggravation over the entire situation leaking out through his tone. He turned towards his mother. "Sophia Beckett. Have you ever heard of Penwood having a ward?"

"There were whispers a few years back. That a child was living at Penwood Park. The earl's mother allegedly said he'd taken in a distant cousin's daughter before she died, but it was never confirmed. No one ever saw or met this ward of his. And Lord Gunningworth was never an approachable man, so I do not believe anyone ever asked him to confirm it," his mother told him. "The only children I know of are the late earl's stepchildren."

"The Reiling girls, yes, I remember them," Benedict supplied, recalling his visit to Penwood House in search of his mysterious dancing partner. He tried not to shudder, recalling his interactions with the eldest Reiling and her mother. The entire interaction had been a waste of time, and he had left with no interest in spending time with them again.

His mother frowned. "If anyone would falsify an engagement announcement for their own benefit, it would be Lady Penwood. There were rumors she did that to Lord Gunningworth to guarantee his proposal, but I'm surprised she did not use one of her daughters. If it was her, that is."

"I never met or saw this Miss Beckett when I visited. I don't even recall her being mentioned," Benedict told her.

He'd only met the two Reiling girls, quickly dismissing them both once he realized neither was the woman he was searching for. And when he thought about it, Lady Penwood had told him herself that no other ladies were living in Penwood House besides the staff.

"She may have remained in the county after her guardian's death," Anthony suggested. "If she even exists."

"Maybe we get lucky, and she doesn't," Hyacinth supplied.

"If someone went to the trouble of falsifying an engagement announcement, I doubt they'd give the name of someone who never existed," Kate replied. "Even if that would make all of this much simpler."

His mother hummed. She had her scheming face now. That was never a good sign.

"It may be beneficial, as much as I hate to say this, to invite Lady Penwood and Miss Beckett here," his mother replied. "We will be able to confirm Miss Beckett's existence. And while I would rather not have that woman in this home, we may be able to learn more about how this all happened. If we feign ignorance."

"If you are willing to extend the invitation while Benedict and I will head to the printer's shop now, then it's settled," Anthony said.

Benedict took a deep breath. Today was undoubtedly going to be an adventure. And he still had yet to fully recover from his hangover.

He could only assume that this Miss Beckett, wherever she was, was having a more enjoyable morning than he was.

~~~

Sophie had been stuck in the downstairs closest for roughly two hours now.

She wasn't entirely sure how long she'd been in the closet. She'd gotten tired of trying to keep track of the time as she sat cross-legged on the floor in the dark, waiting for Araminta to decide she could be let out again. It always got incredibly dull when she was locked in one of the closets as punishment, her thoughts her only company.

Suffice to say, her stepmother had not taken the news well. Storming down the stairs like a bat out of hell, screaming like a banshee at her. Accusing her of being ungrateful, of ruining her daughters, and being a whore like her dead mother (for which Sophie got slapped across the face after trying to defend her). After she was done screaming, Araminta had trapped her in the closet while she tried to figure out what to do with her. She'd screamed about throwing her out of the home and onto the streets, but Sophie had heard that threat too many times before for it to have an effect on her. There was no one else in London Araminta could get to work as a maid, gardener, tailor, and whatever else she needed Sophie to be for the simple fee of nothing at all.

Not that Sophie was prepared to leave. She always had been, but when you worked for nothing, she was left with nothing. No way of supporting her escape.

Yet somehow, through all of this, Araminta still hadn't figured out Sophie had snuck out two months ago to attend a ball. The scuffed silver shoes she'd borrowed were still hidden in the back of her stepmother's closet. She had that, at least.

So, as she sat on the floor of the closet, fiddling with a loose string on her old dress, Sophie waited for someone to come unlock the door. Going through her unattainable escape plan once again. Nothing but a fantasy, just like Benedict Bridgerton was.

Benedict Bridgerton. The man she spent such a wondrous evening with. Who made her heart flutter whenever she thought about him and of whom she'd spent many evenings dreaming about.

And now her name was in the paper next to his. Announcing an impending marriage.

Which was impossible. She hadn't seen him since that night. Not once. They'd become nothing more than two ships passing in the night. A man who did not even know her name. A man she'd already come to terms with, never seeing him again.

She sighed. This was a nightmare. Her dreams and fantasies had somehow become her personal nightmare.

The lock shifted suddenly, moving from its place in the door frame and snapping her from her anxious thoughts. Sophie stumbled to her feet, realizing the door was finally unlocked and opened. Light pooled into the room once again.

And revealing a still furious-looking Araminta on the other side of the door. Who sneered at Sophie when she saw her before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

"We have been invited to the Bridgertons for tea."

Her eyes opened again as she said the last sentence and snapped to Sophie. She glared at her with such anger and disgust that Sophie flinched back from it, wishing to be anywhere but here.

"I'm sorry?" Sophie bleated out, confused.

"Rosamund will give you one of her dresses since I doubt you will fit into any of Posy's, and then we will depart. Now go! Get dressed," she ordered curtly, stepping back so Sophie could exit the closet. "You will come with me, and you will say nothing. Nothing. Do you hear me? You have done enough damage, and I will not risk you ruining any chances of Rosamund finding a match. I will handle this. See how I can convince the Bridgertons to break this insulting pairing." She scoffed, shaking her head in disgust as Sophie stepped past her and into the hallway. "To think you thought you had a chance with one of them. How pathetic."

Clenching her jaw and her fists, her nails digging crescent-shaped moons into her palms, the only thing she had to ground her, Sophie took a deep breath through gritted teeth. She focused on trying to ignore how her stomach tightened at the jab. She wouldn't let it linger. She wouldn't. No matter how deep the knife felt.

She was well aware that she had nothing to bring to this match. Her stepmother did not need to remind her.

Straightening her back out, and ignoring the insult, as she had done for years now, she turned to face her.

"Anything else you would like me to do, Lady Penwood?" she asked politely, forcing a smile.

Araminta only sneered, her lip curling upwards. "Make yourself look presentable. That is the least you can do for me. We leave for the Bridgertons in an hour."

~~~

The printer's shop had been a dead end. The owner had refused their demands for answers, for explanations as to how Benedict's name had ended up in his paper next to a woman he did not know. Even Anthony's threats of libel and ruin did nothing to curb the owner's resolve.

"It ain't false unless they don't get married," he told them gruffly. Adding to the insult, he'd then informed them a retraction would cost them quite some coin.

A lot.

Anthony made clear there would be consequences, regardless, before they took their leave. Finding no other reason to stick around and argue any further. Benedict had briefly contemplated waiting, noticing how skittish the printer's assistant looked as he worked in the background. He watched them with a guilty look as they spoke with his employer, and Benedict wondered if the man had more information. Information he was willing to provide.

But they'd decided to try again later, knowing they had to be home in case there was a visit from the members of Penwood House. They could find out if their mother had learned anything new in their absence.

And their mother informed them that, yes, Miss Beckett did, in fact, exist and would be arriving upon the hour with Lady Penwood.

Which was enough time for Benedict to down two glasses of whiskey just to keep his strength up.

Christ, he had no idea what to do.

And he was angry. The shock of waking up to find himself engaged had slowly turned into annoyance and then rage as the day continued. He was furious that someone would force him into a marriage. It made him think about Nigel Berbrooke and what he'd tried with Daphne, which only made him even angrier when he remembered that slight. Against his sister, no less. And that had been years ago now.

Not to mention, he'd already found the love of his life, the mysterious Lady in Silver. The woman who had captured his heart in one evening and then ran off with it when the clock struck twelve, disappearing into the night. He was still searching for her, and now he may never even be able to be with her even if he did find her.

So, he was angry. With Miss Beckett. With the printer's shop. With whoever the hell it had been to put that announcement in the paper in the first place.

His mother had tried to keep him calm, pulling him into a comforting, maternal hug when she saw him step out of his brother's office. He went willingly, a small part of him needing the validation, support, and comfort his mother offered.

"We'll figure this out," she whispered. "If I didn't let your sister marry that god-awful Berbrooke, I won't let you marry someone you do not wish to either."

"I know," he replied.

Then she pulled away, moving to cup his cheeks in her hands as she rubbed circles over them with her thumbs.

"I'm sorry," he tells her again, his shoulders sagging.

"Oh hush, you have nothing to apologize for," she tells him, letting the words linger for a few seconds before she drops her hands from his face. "Lady Penwood should be here soon. Am I correct in my assumption you will be on your best behavior?" she gave him a knowing look as she said that part, one dark brow raised.

Benedict huffed a laugh, trying not to roll his eyes. "Of course, mother."

His mother only smiled again, reaching out to rub his cheek once more.

"Behave," she warned, and he nodded.

He was somehow able to keep his anger in check as he waited for the arrival of his apparent fiancee, Miss Sophia Beckett.

The entire time they were waiting, he could only think the worst of her. The most likely ulterior motives she must have had. A country-raised woman, an orphan, a ward who probably had only a meager dowry. Most likely seeking out his family's wealth and status to uplift her own. He didn't know if she was younger or older than him. No idea what her likes were or her personality. If she was anything like the elder Reiling sister, Benedict doubted they'd get along.

And then, she arrived.

And he realized he may have rushed to conclusions.

Because, frankly, she didn't look to him to have been the one to cause this. Didn't look a thing like the image he'd created in his mind.

She was young, petite, probably a foot shorter than him, wearing pale green and white, although the gown appeared to run rather big on her. The bottom of the gown's skirt dragged across the floor as if it hadn't been altered correctly, the sleeves barely hanging onto her thin arms or covering her shoulders.

Her features were fairy-like, sharp but soft. Enough that drew him towards her like a moth to a flame. A look of innocence. Ringlet curls pinned back into a bun, the curls falling around the bottom like a fringe of a curtain, with the shorter ones framing her face. And her eyes were the color of emeralds. Round and weary of the surroundings around her.

Benedict had to admit. She was quite beautiful.

And almost familiar. A feeling of deja vu swept over him as he studied her. They couldn't possibly have met before.

She was nervous, fiddling with the tips of her gloves as she lingered behind Lady Penwood during the introductions, as if trying to hide, keeping herself out of sight.

"Lord Bridgerton and Lady Violet!" Lady Penwood exclaimed cheerfully as she entered; however, Benedict had seen enough forced smiles in his lifetime to know the woman was not happy to be here.

"Lady Araminta. How are you?" his mother replied, with an equal matching forced politeness to that of the countess, sounding as if she was being reunited with an old friend when he knew her feelings to be the complete opposite.

"My sincerest apologies for all of this," the countess replied with a wave of the hand. "You must understand, we have no idea how any of this has happened."

"Oh, I would never dare to assume. I'm certain this is nothing more than some cruel prank," Violet returned with a sharp smile. Her pale eyes drifted over Araminta's shoulder to the young Miss Beckett standing quietly behind her. "And you must be Miss Beckett."

The young lady curtsied. "Your ladyship."

"This must have been such a surprise for you," Violet told her. "Getting dragged into all of this. I doubt it was what you expected when you woke up this morning."

Miss Beckett opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by Araminta, who went as far to step in front of her, blocking their view as she began to talk instead.

"You must understand, Sophia has never been the smartest young woman. I've personally never understood why my late husband took her in, but I know she'd never ever be stupid enough to force a gentleman's hand. You see, she only just arrived in town," the countess said.

Benedict frowned. The tone had been polite, but there was a pointed jab directed at Sophie when Araminta spoke, anger hidden between the words. And Sophie only flinched as she spoke, shrinking back and away from them. A look on her face that said she wished to just disappear.

Araminta's icy eyes finally fell on him.

"Mr. Bridgerton," she smiled, her wolfish smile. Teeth and all. "I feel I must personally apologize for you being dragged into all of this."

He nodded his bow. "There is no need to apologize, Lady Penwood. I'm certain we can resolve this amongst ourselves. And quickly."

"Why don't we discuss this all in the parlor?" Violet suggested.

Araminta quickly agreed and followed his mother into the parlor, his brother close behind them, but Benedict found his feet suddenly rooted to the ground. Unable to move. Frankly, he didn't want to. Going into the parlor meant handling this god-awful affair, and he was just too tired to deal with it right now.

And it appeared Miss Sophie felt the same. She hadn't moved from the front hall either, still standing a short distance away. Leaving them both standing there, awkwardly and alone.

"I do not believe we were properly introduced," he told her, giving a short bow. "Benedict Bridgerton."

"Sophie. Sophie Beckett," she replied with another quick curtsy. "My sincerest apologies, Mr. Bridgerton. I swear, I had nothing to do with this."

He believed her. He hardly knew her, yet something told him he could trust her. There was a strange familiarity about her like he'd met her before, but he couldn't place were. And the sincerity in her voice, the worry in her round doe eyes, she was not lying to him.

"I believe you," he told her.

She blinked. "You do?"

"If anything, I should apologize to you," he told her. "I doubt this has been an enjoyable experience for you. And after you just arrived."

"Yes, I suppose it hasn't," she replied rather weakly.

He knew her. He had to. She seemed so familiar, and yet he couldn't place were. Her curls and eyes, her voice, those soft, plump lips, he could have sworn he'd met her once.

"Shall we?" he motioned towards the parlor, and she nodded.

He'd figure it out.

~~~

You could hear a pin drop. That was how silent it had become.

And the silence was going to kill Sophie. As she sat next to Araminta on the robin eggs blue and gold settee, across from Benedict, his mother, and brother, who all sat on the matching pair, all it did was aggravate her already high level of anxiety.

No one was speaking. A standoff over who would speak first had been going on since they first entered the room and took their seats.

It was apparent the Bridgertons were suspicious of them and that they did not particularly like them either. Not that they didn't have a reason not to be. Lord Anthony Bridgerton stoically sat next to his mother, watching them both intently with a severe expression. His mother, Violet, had kept a more polite and cheerful facade.

And Benedict.

Benedict looked increasingly uncomfortable like he'd eaten something that hadn't sat well with him.

She'd barely exchanged another word with him since their brief introduction.

Not that she'd been able to. Araminta kept answering for her whenever one of the Bridgertons asked her a question.

"I did not know the earl had a ward," Violet said suddenly with a forced cheery voice. Trying to start a conversation.

"I spent most of my life in the country," Sophie quickly lied, smiling politely back.

"His lordship did not see it fit for Sophie to mingle with the ton. What with her background being as low as it is," Araminta added.

Her smile faltered for a second, but Sophie was able to keep it up, forcing herself to take a deep breath. The sooner this was over, the sooner she could leave.

But she had not gone unnoticed by Lady Violet. The older woman frowned with concern as she watched Sophie slowly shrink in on herself, trying to look smaller.

"Still, I doubt that should have been a barrier," she remarked, her pale eyes snapping back towards Araminta.

"Is there anyone you can think of who might have done this?" Anthony interjected, getting back to the point at hand.

"Of course not, Lord Bridgerton," Araminta replied. "My best guess is someone wished to bring scandal to both our names. For all I know, it could have been Whistledown, trying to create her own drama to write about."

"Unlikely, given her pamphlet today made no mention of my family and any recent engagements," Anthony replied.

"She most likely will tomorrow, though," Araminta said back.

"Yes, now that she knows, along with the rest of the city," Anthony responded tightly with an unimpressed look. It was apparent he was not happy with the responses Araminta was giving.

"It may be best for us all to figure out how we will be handling this moving forward. We can focus on who is behind all of this later," Violet said this time.

"Well, it seems rather simple to me," Araminta retorted. "We just informed the printer to report the engagement is now off."

There was a loose string on the wrist of the lace glove Sophie borrowed from Rosamund. An old pair she hadn't worn in years, and Sophie couldn't help but fiddle with the thin string hanging off from the fabric, rolling it between her thumb and index finger as she only half listened to the conversation.

"There will be talk, of course," Violet told them. "But we should be able to make this work out in our favor. Make this look amicable on both parts."

"A few public appearances here and there, and if we all stay to the same story when someone asks, I'm sure we can keep the rest of the ton off our backs," Anthony added.

"My daughters will be more than welcome to help," Araminta told them with a genuine, excited smile. "Sophie will unfortunately be returning to the country at the end of this week, but I'm sure we can make it work without her."

More like the broom closet of Penwood House.

But Sophie didn't like the look that crossed her stepmother's face. Her stepmother had just been told the Bridgertons would willingly interact with her and in public, no less. Sophie suspected she was already scheming to figure out a way to make this benefit her and Rosamund.

"Well," Sophie turned back towards Violet, who was speaking, and gave her a sympathetic smile. "It will certainly be much quieter in the country."

"Yes, yes, she's incredibly lucky," Araminta added, with an edge in her voice only Sophie could recognize.

Maybe it wasn't the broom closet she was being sent to.

~~~

After conceiving the story they would be using, the Bridgertons having decided they would be the ones to go to the printer's shop to have the announcement made, Sophie was preparing to leave with Araminta. Lady Violet, the only one who had followed them to the carriage to see them off, while her sons remained standing on the front steps, watching them.

Sophie curtsied quickly to the dowager viscountess. "Thank you for hosting us, Lady Violet."

"Oh, it was no worry. It was lovely to meet you. Safe travels back," Lady Violet replied, speaking to her and only her as Araminta seemed to wish to be anywhere else, speaking with the carriage driver.

"Miss Beckett?" a voice called out behind her. A voice Sophie recognized.

Sophie turned and blinked in surprise as she found a familiar face coming towards her.

"John?" she tilted her head towards the side.

Dressed in similar lilac-colored uniforms as the other Bridgerton footmen, wig and all, was John Baker, the son of her father's butler. His family had worked for his father until he'd passed; his mother was one of the maids, and John had been assigned to the stables when he'd gotten old enough to be able to do manual labor. After Sophie's father died, the Bakers had taken their final payment and a letter of recommendation before leaving for London, having no interest in working for Araminta now that the earl was gone.

"You two know each other?" Lady Violet asked, glancing between the pair.

"Um, we were friends when we were children," Sophie told her quickly.

John nodded. "My family worked for the Earl of Penwood, your ladyship."

John had been a few years older than her but was one of the only children close enough in age for her to play with, given she wasn't allowed to interact with the children from the village. They'd chased each other around the grounds of Penwood Park when they were very little. John was one of the few to keep her company, given her father, stepmother, and stepsisters had never given her any.

Sophie had run into John the month prior at the markets one morning, recognizing her old friend when he'd been on his off day and not wearing his uniform she saw him in now. He'd been equally surprised to see her in London and to see her dressed as a maid, no less. At first, she'd done her best to hide what had happened since he'd left with his family, but John had caught on quickly to what Araminta had done to her.

They'd chatted while she went through the market, purchasing the items Miss Gibbons had sent her out to fetch, and during it, she may have finally admitted to her old friend everything that had happened. Everything Araminta had done since her father died, up to the night she'd slipped out without anyone noticing, to attend a ball.

"I did not realize you worked for the Gunningworths," Violet replied to John, looking surprised.

"My parents took a position in the city after his death. To be closer to my mother's family," John told her. "Miss Beckett and I have not seen each other for quite some time now."

"You look well, John," Sophie remarked, giving him a smile.

"As do you," John replied. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"Oh, just fixing some small miscommunication. I believe it's all been settled," Sophie shrugged off nervously, not sure whether she should disclose what had happened to him in front of his current employer.

"Yes, it's all been settled now," Lady Violet smiled. "It was wonderful to meet you, Sophie, even under rather stressful circumstances."

"Come, Sophie," Araminta ordered curtly from where she stood by the carriage. "Let's go."

"You're leaving already?" John asked, seeming confused before glancing back to where the elder Bridgerton sons were standing.

"Well, we did settle everything we needed to," Sophie told him politely.

"Sophia!" Araminta snapped from the carriage. "Now!"

Sophie cringed, while Lady Violet only raised a brow at Araminta's curt orders but said nothing. She stepped aside so that Sophie could leave.

Reaching out to grab the carriage door, knowing Araminta wouldn't hold it for her and the driver had already climbed up onto his seat, an arm reached out past her and grabbed it before she could even place her hand on it.

"No, here," John stepped forward. "Let me get that for you."

~~~

They had yet to leave.

After all the polite chatting and planning, Benedict was exhausted. The whole situation was exhausting, and now he was stuck playing niceties with the Reiling girls for the next few weeks.

He just wanted them gone. The Countess and Sophie.

And they looked about to see if his mother would finish her conversation with Sophie. Even the Countess appeared to have the same feeling about him, looking rather bored and impatient as his mother saw them off.

He impatiently tapped his foot against the ground enough that his brother quietly admonished him to stop. He couldn't help it. He just wanted the day to be over. And they were so close. The seconds felt like agonizing hours as Benedict waited.

And then Footman John appeared. Benedict frowned, watching the man greet Sophie like she was an old friend, and by the looks of it, they seemed to know each other. Strange. How on earth did they know one another?

The pair chatted happily together, briefly, as his mother seemed to ask a few questions before the countess ordered Sophie into the carriage. That they were leaving.

Finally.

But then, Footman John stepped forward and moved his arm up to hold the carriage door open for Sophie, covering the top part of her face. Given her height, only her nose and jaw could be seen as she turned to thank him.

It felt like the floor gave out under him.

Benedict froze. His heart stuttered as it almost stopped completely in his chest. It couldn't be.

He knew that jaw. Those lips. He'd drawn it a thousand times. Seen in his dreams, found himself haunted by it and been practically tormented by it as the image followed his thoughts while he drifted through the days listlessly in search of her. As it became more and more apparent, he would never find her.

Until now.

It couldn't be her. It wasn't possible.

The Lady in Silver.

She was here. She had been here the entire afternoon. Standing right in front of him, he hadn't realized.

No wonder he thought he knew her from somewhere. His heart had been yelling at him the entire time she'd stood before him, and his mind had never caught on to it. Never put two and two together. But the pieces had finally fallen into place.

And she was leaving. If he didn't stop her, he was going to lose her again.

"Wait!" he yelled, rushing down the stairs.

"Benedict?" he heard his mother say, alarmed, as he raced towards the carriage, hastily moving past her.

"Wait!" he yelled again, grabbing at the carriage door to prevent them from leaving. John, thankfully, stepped aside in surprise, giving him the space he needed.

"Mr. Bridgerton, what on earth–?" Lady Penwood started from inside the carriage, but he wasn't focused on her. He was too focused on the woman standing outside it, staring up at him with wide, petrified eyes, to care about the countess.

"It's you," he breathed out.

"I'm sorry?" Sophie blinked at him, confused.

"That night. Two months ago. The Lady in Silver. That's you," he said, watching as her wide eyes somehow widened further.

"I-I have n-no idea what you are talking about," she nervously stuttered.

"I've spent the past two months searching day and night for you, and here you are," he huffed a laugh, still in disbelief. "All this time, and I never realized."

"What do you mean you've met before?" Araminta snapped from inside the carriage. "Sophie. What is the meaning of this?"

The fearful look that flashed over Sophie's face as she glanced back toward the countess had tugged something within Benedict, making him ready to put himself directly in between them if necessary.

"I-I… It's nothing, your ladyship. He's just confused," Sophie quickly told her.

And then he realized. Two months. It had been two months since he'd seen her. But the countess had said she'd just arrived in the city that week. That she'd been in the county since the season began.

The countess, who was the same woman that had told him, to his face, that no other woman lived at Penwood House. No one but the staff.

"You've been here all this time?" he said, and Sophie looked back at him. "How?"

"Because she's a maid," Footman John said quietly next to him and he looked at the man with alarm. "Lady Penwood forced her to be her servant after the late earl passed."

The staff. She'd said no other woman lived in the house except staff.

"She what?" his mother asked, aghast, having approached from behind him.

"I did nothing of the sort," Araminta shot at them defensively. "She's been living at Penwood Park. The new lord cares for her out of the kindness of his own heart after my late husband left her nothing."

"He left her an inheritance. A dowry," John corrected, eyes dark as he glared at the countess. "To be managed until she turned twenty, after which the solicitor would help her manage it until she married, and it was handed off to her husband. My father saw his will. Multiple times. She'd get four thousand pounds a year after his death, and Sophie hasn't seen a single coin from it in all these years."

"What? I have a what?" Sophie asked quietly, stunned by the news she was only just learning.

"Two thousand pounds a year increased to six if you continued caring for her until she was of age," John grounded out at Araminta. "He didn't trust the new earl to be able to, what with his drinking habits, so he put the clause in to guarantee you would. He thought you'd get her married off quickly, and instead, you forced her into servitude."

"You have no proof," Araminta hissed.

"Is there a copy of this will anywhere?" Violet asked gently.

John shrugged. "The solicitor may have one, but it's been years since I last saw him."

"He left me a dowry?" Sophie said. Benedict finally noticed how pale she'd gone; the color all but vanished from her face. She was shaking.

"Why on earth would you do that to the poor girl?" Violet demanded.

Araminta had decided to finally drop the pleasantries altogether, her worry turning to fierce fury, her lip curling into an ugly sneer.

"Because the girl is nothing more than a bastard," she hissed.

“What?”

“She’s my late husband’s bastard,” Araminta repeated. “The daughter of some whore.”

“Good lord,” Violet gasped quietly at the news, taken a back as well.

Benedict wouldn't deny the surprise he felt at this, followed ever so briefly by concern. Sophie was a bastard? There was nothing to suggest it except, but if the rest of the ton where to discover—

Concern over whether not he could or should be with Sophie, a flash of worry about how his family would handle this, briefly shot through him. He would hate himself later for it, but Benedict hesitated. He hesitated on the idea of being with Sophie.

But when he glanced towards her, seeing she was now shaking, her eyes wide and filled with fear, he knew the only thing he wanted to do was keep her safe. To be by her side. The last thing he cared about was what the rest of society thought about him. All he wanted was to be with her.

"I don't care," he told Araminta, a protective fury building in him now.

The countess was momentarily taken aback by this, faltering briefly before the furious rage returned to her icy eyes.

"You want to marry a bastard, then, by all means, do so. I'm certain the ton will be interested to hear exactly who Sophie Beckett truly is," she hissed.

But Benedict glared furiously back at her, his hand clenched into a tight fist at his side. At that moment in time, he was completely prepared to throw a fist at the countess, but his mother suddenly stepped in front of him.

"You will do no such thing," she snapped.

"You think I'll allow some lowly bastard like her to marry into this society?" Araminta shot back.

"Oh, I think you will. In fact, I think it would be best if you give nothing but your best wishes to pair whenever you are asked," Violet coldly told her. "If this dowry has been mismanaged and withheld from Miss Beckett all these years, then I believe it would be best to investigate where exactly it has gone. Our solicitor will be more than welcome to seek out the truth on this matter."

"You have no proof," Araminta repeated.

"Then I will send word immediately to your late husband's solicitor and the new earl. And I will not stop until I find it," Violet informed her. "I doubt you'll be able to afford that. What with the recent financial difficulties I've heard you've been having. Unpaid debts at the modiste."

Araminta stiffened, revealing his mother's assumptions to be true.

"Your financial difficulties have certainly been the talk of the town lately. I'm surprised Whistledown hasn't pointed out how you have remained in London after the social season was over while the rest of us returned to the country these past few years. Trouble with the new lord?" Violet inquired, knowingly, moving closer to the carriage. "And it is not as if you haven't been without your own accusations. Your last marriage was rather rushed. Wasn't it? I doubt the late earl was happy it left him without a male heir. That was the reason he returned to London that season. And let's not forget your second marriage was done rather hastily, too. If I recall, your eldest was born soon after that? Seven months after your marriage to Lord Reiling. And perfectly healthy, too. Must have been a blessing for you that she took more after you in appearance than her father."

Araminta blanched; mouth open in shock at what Violet had alluded to before white-hot fury flashing in her eyes. "How dare you–"

"How dare I what?" Violet snapped, head held high as she stepped towards the other woman again, and somehow, even as she stood below her due to the carriage, Violet was still able to look down at her. "Remind everyone of old rumors you did nothing to prevent or deny. Three scandalous marriages, Araminta, and not a single whisper. I am more than welcome to point out to the others that you are in no position to cast a stone at my family if you dare to speak out. Your past will certainly help deflect any gossip you direct towards us."

Violet stopped briefly, allowing her threats to linger, watching the shocked and grave expression grow on Araminta's face before continuing. "But I suppose I would be willing to hold my tongue as long as you hold yours."

"B-But, sh-she's…she is a–" Araminta stuttered.

"Daughter of the late Charles and Maria Beckett last I heard," Violet informed her curtly, the threatening tone having yet to disappear. "And I think, for the benefit of your dwindling reputation, Araminta, that you would be best to remember that."

Araminta was silent, stuck glaring at Violet, who only raised a dark brow back at her as the seconds ticked by.

"Right?" she added, slowly.

After a few additional seconds of silence, Araminta nodded. "Fine," she muttered at her, before glaring at Sophie. "Don't even think about returning to Penwood House. You are no longer welcome there."

"I wasn't welcomed there, to begin with," Sophie quietly retorted back.

"And she certainly has no need to go there, ever again," Violet said to Araminta. "I'd say it was good seeing you, but we both know that would be a lie. Good day, Lady Penwood."

And with that, his mother slammed the carriage door in the countess's stunned, furious face, before turning back towards the pair and smiling. "Well, I believe that settles it. I suppose your brother and I will have to get a special license. Won't we?"

"Have I told you how wonderful of a mother you are?" Benedict smiled.

"Not today, you haven't," his mother replied with a smile of her own.

Benedict leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. "Thank you."

"It was no issue, sweetheart," Violet replied. "Now, I need to get in contact with the archbishop. If you would both excuse me."

She quickly departed back into Number 5, with John following close behind, returning to his place by the front door, leaving the pair to watch the Penwood carriage pass by, the cracking of reins and whining of horses before it raced away. Araminta was glowering as she sat within, not daring to glance out the window towards them as the carriage set off. Once it had disappeared around the corner, Benedict glanced back towards Sophie, finding her watching the road with a sullen, anxious look gracing her perfect features.

"What's wrong?" he asked her gently, concerned.

"You really want this?" she asked him, hesitantly. "To marry me."

"Of course, I do," he told her.

"You're better off without me," Sophie told him with a sigh.

Benedict slipped his hand in with hers, stepping closer to her. "I'll be the judge of that."

She gave him a look, her head tilting to the side as her eyes grew sad. "You barely know me."

He brought her hand up to his lips, pressing a light kiss to her knuckles. "I learned enough about you that night to know I want to spend the rest of my life with you," he told her, his breath tickling over the skin of her fingers. He smiled. "And if you're that worried, we'll at least have three days to get to know each other better. My mother is an expert at getting special licenses."

“Three days?” Sophie eyes’ almost bugged out of her skull.

He only chuckled. “Well, the announcement was already made. And the less time I have to wait, the better. I don’t believe we need to wait for the banns to be read. Do you?”

Sophie smiled back at him, shaking her head. Slowly, but the corners of her lips pulled upwards eventually. A soft pink hue developed over her cheeks and nose as she blushed. God, she was beautiful.

He pulled her close, linking his arm with hers. "Come. Let's introduce you to everyone else," Benedict told her. "I can finally rub it in their faces that you are in fact very much real, and that I didn't imagine you. It will be quite the surprise for them."

After a moment of lingering hesitance, Sophie linked her arm with him, allowing him to escort her up the front steps and to a far better future than what had once been. Neither one noticing the smile Footman John had as he watched them head inside.

While this writer was certainly surprised to hear about the sudden marriage announcement between Mr. Benedict Bridgerton and a young Miss Sophia Beckett, it appears the couple are so helplessly in love they just could not wait to marry.

This author had heard whispers from Kent of a young ward catching the eye of the eligible second Bridgerton son, but it was a genuine mistake of mine to not investigate it further. You all must forgive me for not reporting it to you sooner, I've just never been interested in gossip from the county. It's always so dreadfully boring the news that comes from there.

Let me at least give my many blessings to the happy couple, and best of luck with the nuptials. Many, including yours truly, are ever so interested in knowing how they met.

But alas, we'll all just have to wait until they return from the honeymoon to learn that story.

– Lady Whistledown Reports

| The Day Before the Announcement |

John knew it was a mistake. Coming here.

He really needed to stop involving himself in the lives of his employers. It was getting out of hand.

But Eloise had begged him to deliver one last letter for her. A final apology was written in the envelope he held clasped in his hand, so she finally ceased caring for Theo, the printer's assistant. He had no idea if it was a good idea if it would help, but he liked Eloise. As brash as she could get with him, she did bring amusement, and he'd felt sorry for how Whistledown had treated her recently.

He'd helped her before. That's why she asked him.

As he entered the printer's shop, John was forced to wait in line behind another scrawny-looking man, who was currently speaking with the shop owner.

"My employer wishes for it to go out tomorrow," the man told him.

"It will cost extra," the shop owner grunted as he skimmed over the small piece of paper. He then scoffed. "What's this? The third marriage announcement from the Bridgertons in the past year? I thought that Viscount was already married?"

John froze, immediately on alert at the mention of his employer's name, and then frowned as he thought over the information he'd heard. A marriage announcement? Not one of the unmarried Bridgertons were engaged. And Lord Bridgerton had only just returned from his honeymoon a few months ago. The man in front of him was certainly not employed in the house either, John would have recognized him.

"Lady Penwood is willing to pay as much as you need," the man retorted, dropping a bag of coin on the counter. "Just get it out tonight, or she'll have my head and yours."

John's frown deepened. Lady Penwood was a name he hadn't heard in years but one he knew always came with trouble. His recent interaction with her stepdaughter, Sophie, had confirmed the suspicions he'd held towards her since the moment his father's old employer had returned to Penwood Park with her.

The shop owner pulled open the small pouch in front of him, giving a quick count of what he could see, and nodded. "Alright. I can get it printed out tonight and sent out in the morning run." He then looked over his shoulder and shouted. "Theo! Get over here!"

The other man nodded his thanks before turning to hastily depart the shop. John confirmed he was undoubtedly not another footman or employee in the Bridgerton house as the man passed him by. Meaning he had to work for Lady Penwood.

And he'd been discussing a marriage announcement. To whom, John had no idea, but he knew it was probably with Lady Penwood's eldest and more favored daughter, Rosamund. A woman John wouldn't wish on any man.

"Get this note sent up for print, and fast, boy," the shop owner told Theo. "I'll be in the back if you need me. You can help the next customer before you get to work."

Theo glanced towards John, eyes widening as he recognized him, while his employer disappeared further back into the shop.

"John, isn't it?" Theo asked once they were alone.

"What was that about the Bridgertons and a marriage announcement?" John demanded quickly, approaching the counter. "None of them are being courted right now, let alone engaged."

His questioning led the young printer's assistant to read over the paper he'd been handed, eyes widening as he recognized the names himself.

"It says Benedict Bridgerton is marrying Rosamund Reilling," he told him, glancing back up. "Benedict is Eloise's older right?"

"Benedict isn't engaged," John informed him harshly, ignoring his question. He knew for a fact he wasn't about to marry. Unless he'd finally found the Lady in Silver, or Sophie Beckett as John had learned, but he would have known by now if he had.

"I believe you," Theo replied softly. "But why would someone do this?"

"To force a marriage to prevent a scandal. It's one of the oldest tricks in the book," John replied, recalling how it had almost happened to the eldest Bridgerton daughter. "The man who was just here was employed by Lady Penwood, Miss Reiling's mother. She most likely wants to force an engagement for her own personal gain. You cannot allow that to be published."

"John, I have a job to do," Theo retorted with a sigh. "If I don't put this in, I'll be let go."

"But it's not true! Your boss is likelier to get stuck with a slander accusation if he publishes it. He'll be ruined," John argued. "You'll cause more harm than good by putting that in."

"I won't lose my job," Theo shot back. "I'm sorry. I really am. I don't want to do this to Eloise's family either, but I've got people counting on me. My hands are tied. Unless you have a better idea, I'm putting this note in tonight."

He opened his mouth to argue further, but John could not think of anything else. Of anything that would convince Theo to throw away the note. He'd been through enough himself, and losing his job, his only source of income would only add to that.

Seeing he had nothing else to say, Theo sighed, telling him to have a good day before heading back towards the large printer to get it set up.

"Wait!"

Theo turned to look at him.

"What if you change the name?" John asked.

Theo thought about it for a second before nodding. "If you have a name I can use instead, I'll probably be able to get away with that."

He did. He knew exactly which name to give.

Oh, but she was going to kill him when she found out. And so were the Bridgertons.

But after the last conversation he'd had with her when he'd seen what had happened to her, John couldn't allow her to stay in that house any longer. And if he was right about what he'd learned from her and what he'd seen from Benedict, this may work out for the best.

And, besides, it was better than being married to Rosamund Reiling.

"Sophia. Put down Sophia Beckett. Here. Give it to me. I'll write it down for you."

#my fics.#did I take the p&p (2005) hand scene for this fic's image #absolutely I did #and am I back again with another fic #lets not talk about that my brain just finally put it together for this one as well #benophie #sophie beckett #benedict bridgerton #Bridgerton fics

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