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ithebookhoarder · 6 months

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Truth or Dare (Anthony Bridgerton x Wife!Reader)

Summary: Married only a few months, you are very much one of the Bridgerton brood - something that often drives your poor husband mad, especially when you happen to be every bit as chaotic and unruly as his siblings... Also known as, you, Benedict and Eloise take a game of ‘truth or dare’ a bit too far.

A/N: What can I say? It’s well and truly fluff-tober over here on my blog 😅

Warnings: Alcohol, mild smut, swearing, Anthony losing his mind, typical Bridgerton sibling shenanigans

Masterlist

There weren’t many nights Anthony spent away from your side.

They were few and far between, but that didn’t lessen how irksome you found them when the odd occasion called for him to leave you over night. You didn’t know what it was exactly, but you never truly slept well without your husband there to hold you.

Of course, it had to be one of those nights that you truly found yourself in a spot of mischief. Though, in fairness, it had all started rather innocently.

Un-beknowst to you at the time, it was Benedict that had been first outside on the garden swing, sipping from a stolen bottle of whiskey he’d pilfered from the kitchens. He’d been sat there perhaps ten minutes by himself, staring at the stars and lamenting about some problem or other.

Then Eloise had come along.

As was her habit - you later discovered - she had been swift to follow her brother’s example, sneaking out of the house in her nightgown for a reprieve in the night air… and a cigarette or two. Apparently her second-eldest brother was something of a soft touch when it came to her, not that you could blame him for it. You doted on Eloise too.

Then, finally, completing the eclectic cast of characters, there had been you.

Now, in your defence, you hadn’t intended on going out into the garden that night, but had found no other alternative suitable given the blasted summer heat. It was worse tonight that it had been all week, and without Anthony in bed beside you, you saw little point in enduring with the effort of trying to get any rest.

So, you’d decided to make your way quietly through the house and sit outside a while, and pray for a breeze. You hadn’t, however, expected to find both Bridgerton siblings already sat there, having had a similar idea.

“My, what do we have here? Another night owl?”

It was Benedict who spoke first, smiling warmly at the sight of you appearing out of the darkness. He was quick to rise, offering you his swing as a perch to rest upon, beside Eloise.

You were about to protest that it wasn’t necessary and that you could find somewhere else to sit, but a warning glare from Eloise was enough to silence you.

She was all too eager to pat the seat next to her in invitation, looking remarkably pleased to have another addition to their little party.

“Come. Sit,” she ordered. “We were simply discussing how tedious Lady Tremaine’s luncheon will be tomorrow and how we could possibly avoid the whole thing. Now that you’re here, you can help us plot our escape. Benedict’s only suggestion thus far has been some kind of contagious summer cold.”

“I think I actually said that I would use such an excuse, sister,” Benedict corrected with a teasing grin. “Not that we would share it.”

“Traitor.”

“Hardly. It is every man - or woman - for themselves. Right, Y/N?”

“Alas, I think your mother would be rather suspicious at all three of us suddenly being absent,” you sighed by way of explanation as both their eyes turned to you. “Besides, I only came outside because of this heat, not to join some conspiracy.”

“Hardly,” Eloise chuckled. “We simply had the same idea, but I am rather glad you came to join us. Perhaps we should form some secret kind of club - Bridgertons against boredom?”

“And do what? Constantly find excuses not to attend social events we deem too tedious or odious to be dragged along to?”

“Sounds like a marvellous idea to me.”

“It would, sister dear,” Benedict teased. “You always have a talent for causing chaos and anarchy. You’d suit the cause perfectly, even if we both know our mother would never stand for it. She somehow sees through even our best efforts.”

“In which case, it’s time I take a leaf out of your book, Benedict. After all, you always say social events become far more bearable after a good drink or two,” Eloise smirked, gesturing towards the bottle of whiskey Benedict had been steadily nursing. “Perhaps I should follow my brothers example and learn to hold a drink, maybe then things will be more fun.”

“Oh no.” Benedict was quick to shut down that idea, holding the bottle possessively to his chest and shaking his head. “No. I am not allowing you to start drinking. Mother would have my head if she caught you, not to mention Anthony would have all ours heads on a platter in no time.”

The thought of it made you laugh. Your husband was hardly a tyrant, even if he’d been known to have a temper but he was easy enough to handle. A few soft words in his ear or a kiss on the cheek and he was putty in your hands, helplessly and completely in love with you. Just as you were in love with him.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of Anthony, Benedict?” you giggled, causing Eloise to join you. “I assure you, he’s more a kitten than a lion and he’d probably prefer you to allow Eloise to sample alcohol here, under your supervision, than when she inevitably decides to rebel and has her first drink later on, in the middle of some public ball…”

The warning was clear and you all knew very likely true. Still, Eloise was beaming in victory as Benedict cursed to himself, muttering about Bridgerton women and the likely death he’d receive should Anthony ever find out he had allowed Eloise to sample whiskey. “Just a few sips, El. I mean it.”

“Oh hush,” she snorted, taking the bottle before he could change his mind. She was quick to throw back her head and down a rather brave mouthful, causing you to laugh even harder as she scrunched her face up in disgust. “Oh! That is revolting.”

“I told you.”

“Now you, Y/N,” Eloise grinned, turning and offering the offending item towards you. “Go on. Join us trouble makers - I won’t say a word about it if you don’t.”

“Oh, for goodness sake… Give me that then,” you sighed, earning a cheer from them both, knowing it was better to simply surrender rather than try and fight their mischievous whims. It only increased as you took an ambitious swig from the bottle, wincing at the acrid burning sensation it left in your throat.

If only Anthony could have seen you. He’d have probably had some kind of seizure - especially as you took another quick swig before handing the bottle back.

“There. Your turn again, brother dearest.”

“My my. You really are quite surprising,” Benedict sniggered, before winking up at you in admiration. “Who knew it? You can hold your drink better than Colin. He seems cursed to choke any time he drinks anything stronger than a brandy.”

“Well, it is your sex that falsely deemed us the weaker,” Eloise quipped. “It’s not our fault you were ignorant.”

“I’d like to remind you I wasn’t part of that decision and you also looked ready to choke a moment ago, El.”

“Doesn’t matter, you’re still one of the enemy,” she giggled, earning another raucous laugh from you. Oh, you loved her. If you’d ever been so blessed to have had a sister, you hoped she’d have been just like her. “Now, it is your turn again, brother.”

“Oh … joy.”

“Else we shall have to have some kind of forfeit.”

“A forfeit?” you scoffed, finding the idea absurd. “Like what?”

“How about… truth or dare?”

Benedict froze. “Oh no. Not again. Pall Mall is one thing but we swore we would never play that game in this family again-“

“But Benedict-“

“What’s truth or dare?”

Your innocent question ceased their bickering instantly. Their eyes widened as they turned to you, a knowing and nervous look passing between them. Somehow, you knew this evening was about to get wildly out of hand.

Sometime later, you’d been fully apprised of the rules of ‘truth or dare’. In fact, you’d been something of a natural at it, even if you knew the copious amounts of whiskey you’d all consumed was more than likely the responsible culprit. Else, you’d probably have known better and snuck back off inside before you could make a fool of yourself.

By the end of the night, Benedict had climbed a tree, confessed to being oddly scared of spiders, and been forced to sing the national anthem in French.

Eloise had also made an admirable effort, despite her obviously lower tolerance for drink. She still permitted Benedict to try and arrange her hair, before daring to steal a sock from Colin’s room whilst he’d slept. Then she’d loosened a leg on a dining chair. (Alas, none of you could remember which one but that somehow made it even funnier - even if it would not be come morning when you were forced to sit at the table for breakfast in some kind of roulette.)

You could only pray you didn’t choose said seat.

You could also only pray neither of your conspirators shared your contributions with your husband. You weren’t exactly sure how Anthony would feel at the fact you gone for a midnight paddle in the pond, nor that you’d mixed up the papers on his desk, all before finishing the night with a final dare that involved stealing several cakes from the kitchens… you still swore Mrs Reynolds would notice, come morning, that there were no longer twelve perfect cakes.

That, and Benedict had somehow knocked flour all over the counter, causing you all to erupt in drunken laughter as you’d bolted back outside.

Needless to say, you all looked a sorry sight as you lay in the grass together, staring at the approaching dawn. Had you not been so tired, or drunk, you may have suggested retiring back to your rooms before the house awoke shortly.

“Now that… was fun.”

“Fun? That was more than fun. I haven’t laughed like that in ages.”

“Told you it was a good idea.”

You hummed in agreement with your sister in law.

“I can see why you all favoured this game so much,” you sniggered, winking at Eloise as she sat in the grass beside you. “I can also see why you all agreed to stop playing it… I don’t know what Anthony would say if he saw what we’d been up to.”

“Something sensible and disapproving most likely,” Benedict sniggered. “Our brother, and your husband, can be a right prig, no offence.”

“Oh hush. At least I didn’t let my sister dress me up in her petticoat when she was five.”

Benedict’s jaw dropped.

“Who told you about that?” he demanded indignantly.

“I have my sources.”

Benedict’s eyes narrowed as he turned his head to glare at his younger sister. “Well, you can tell your source that she’s going to have to find someone else to fetch her lemonade at the Cowper’s ball tomorrow night unless she apologises. You can also tell her that I’ll accept either a verbal or a written apology as long as it’s suitably abject. And that means very, very abject,” he added darkly.

“Tell me, Benedict, was it a lacy petticoat?”

With a wordless grunt of annoyance, Benedict groaned, but it was hard to hear over the laughter echoing from you and Eloise. You resembled more a pack of hyenas than two noble ladies - you probably looked just as feral after your night of mischief.

And of course, as was always your luck, that was exactly how your husband found you mere seconds later.

How Anthony had arrived without any of you hearing a carriage pulling up to the house at this time of the night - morning? You couldn’t be sure - was a mystery. Yet, there he was, hands on hips and looking thunderous as he stormed towards the three of you with all the fury of an exasperated headmaster.

“What in God’s name are you all playing at?”

You all froze.

It was as if someone had poured a bucket of ice water over you as your eyes widened, and you all turned to stare sheepishly at him.

“Oh, darling. You’re home?”

“Don’t ‘oh darling’ me,” Anthony sighed, attempting to scold you but without much success. His attempt at seriousness was somewhat undermined by his brother’s heckling, singing ‘here comes mother’ and that ‘someone’s in trouble’. That, and with the way you were lying, he was upside down. “What are you doing up at this god forsaken hour? And why are you … is that flour? And why are you soaking wet?”

“I went for a swim.”

“A - you went for a -“

“And Benedict did my hair,” Eloise interjected suddenly, waving her arms about as she gestured to the tangle of hair upon her head. “Isn’t it marvellous?”

Anthony’s expression very much said that he did not think it was marvellous. Nor did he find any of this vaguely amusing.

In fact, by the way he took a long deep breath, you knew he was doing his best not to lose his temper and wake the entirety of the household. His brow always creased like that when he was faced with dealing with his family, but the expression only made him seem more adorable and handsome to you, rather than authoritative. However, you’d never told him so, knowing it would hardly be deemed a compliment in his eyes.

You also doubted he’d appreciate your usual response right now, which was normally to kiss said brow until it eased back into its relaxed form.

“We were just playing a game to escape the heat, darling,” you soothed. “We couldn’t sleep and all had the same idea to seek refuge outdoors… we simply got carried away passing the time.”

“What game?”

“Pardon?”

“I said, what was the game you were all playing?” Anthony suddenly quipped, the warning clear in his tone. That, and his eyes landed squarely on his two siblings, who at least had the decency to look sheepish… and afraid. “Because there is but one game I can think of that would result in a mess like this one, and I’m confused, because I know for a fact that we banned that game under this roof, and any other roof that houses the Bridgertons.”

No one moved.

No one even breathed.

It was as if you were all too scared to risk answering Anthony, even if the empty bottle of whiskey did most of the talking by itself.

“I don’t recall the name,” you blinked. “Right, Benedict?”

“Oh, uh… we… we were just- Eloise?”

Eloise froze, the guilt written all too clearly on her face for her to even try and salvage the situation - though that could also be down to the whisky she had consumed… it was honestly hard to be sure at this point.

“Well, dear brother,” she began, only to trail off as Anthony lifted his hand.

The silence was instantaneous.

No one dared to say another word, let alone move.

You’d never seen Eloise or Benedict so still in your entire life. Hell, you weren’t even sure they were breathing - probably out of fear Anthony would decide to inform their mother about their mischievous exploits.

If Anthony Bridgerton was scary when vexed, then Violet Bridgerton was a nightmare brought to life in human form. After all, as the matriarch of a family of eight children, she had learned a long time ago how to keep her unruly children in line - a harrowing experience you had only had occasion to witness once or twice since your marriage into the Bridgerton family. Once had been when Colin and Gregory had broken a priceless vase when racing around the house, despite being explicitly banned from doing so. The other had been when she had caught Eloise and Benedict smoking outside on the terrace one night.

It was easy to say where your husband had inherited it from.

“Not. Another. Word,” your husband growled, bending down and sweeping you up into his arms in a move that made you squeal in surprise. “Right now, I am taking my wife to bed and I suggest you two do the same - after you clean up your mess. I’ll deal with the lot of you in the morning.”

A laugh escaped you as you tried not to look like you were enjoying the sudden turn of events too much. After all, you doubted he’d be too happy once you were more sober and he discovered the true extent of your nightly activities.

It was why you were only too happy to let him put you to bed, grumbling all the while about letting his siblings run wild. He really was most handsome when he was flushed - a fact you were reminded of as he hastily changed for bed, flashing you a tempting glimpse of his bare torso in the process.

You could tell without asking he was tired from his journey home, as well as fighting the urge to rip his hair out over the chaos he had found upon his return.

Thankfully, his need to be in your arms outweighed the need to scold you over letting yourself be drawn into his siblings’ schemes. All it took was you pulling him down onto the mattress, and climbing into his lap to turn him into a needy, lovestruck puddle.

You’d equally missed having him in your arms, but you’d be lying if you said that your sudden forwardness wasn't also due to a mixture of the whiskey you’d drunk, and the residual giddiness from a night of mischief. A confidence radiated from you as you began to run your hands over his bare chest, taking care to graze the areas you knew made him groan.

“You’re lucky I love you so much,” he teased breathlessly, visibly unable to refuse your advances.

“Is that so?”

Anthony chuckled, nodding as he surged his lips towards yours. “Yes, so come here, my delinquent drunken wife, and let me kiss you before you and those doe-eyes of yours drive me insane. Now.”

Your laughter and surrender was immediate. “As you wish.”

Alas, for poor Anthony, that was not the end of the ordeal.

In fact, it was the next morning as you made your way into breakfast that you faced the final consequences of your delinquency.

Despite wishing to remain abed for the entire day, you’d been granted no such reprieve as your maid had entered your room at the usual appointed time and proceeded to open the curtains with no regard for the fact that you had slept a mere handful of hours. Whereas you would normally greet the day with a reluctant smile, you were in no state to manage much more than a groan as you were harshly ripped from your slumber.

If you had somehow not yet come to the conclusion that last night had been a bad idea, then the sudden flare of pain in your head at the bright intrusion was all the proof you needed. That, and the sudden churning in your stomach.

You would never let Benedict or Eloise coax you into drinking with them again.

You had not realised, despite how the idiom went, that what went up was sure to come down again - and you had come crashing down.

Hard.

“If you’re ready to dress, my lady, then breakfast will be served shortly,” your maid chirped, a dress already picked out for you to wear. She either couldn't detect your fragile state, or didn't seem to care as she continued speaking at a painfully loud volume. “My Lord sent me to wake you as he is finishing business in the study. He was up frightfully early, I could scarce believe it went the housemaids told me they’d already found him awake when they went to start the fires this morning. Gave young Samantha a right fright he did, scribbling away at his desk.”

“Oh?” you croaked.

You hadn’t even noticed the empty space in the bed bedside you until then.

Clearly Anthony had risen early, if he’d even gone to sleep at all. Why were you not surprised? Your husband was perpetually in motion, always claiming there was something or someone that needed his urgent attention as the head of the Bridgerton clan. It was just one of the things that made you love him so much.

“Is he still there?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” the young girl continued, breezing about your room. “And that’s not the only strange incident this morning. It will tickle you rotten when I tell you the latest drama, but you see, Mrs Reynolds was ranting and raving about how she swore she had made three trays of fruit tarts last night, yet this morning, there were only two. The youngest kitchen maid, Betsy, is convinced it must be a ghost but my money is on Carter - the groom’s boy - he’s always snooping about the kitchen...”

You winced. Ah. Maybe you hadn't been as stealthy last night as you’d hoped after all...

With as much enthusiasm as you could muster, you began to peel yourself from the mattress, trying to appear as if you were listening to your maid’s theories as she dressed you for the day. It then took all your resolve to make it downstairs and to the breakfast table without tripping over your own feet, or emptying the non-existent contents of your stomach.

To your relief, only Eloise and Benedict had so far taken a seat at the breakfast table - and both looked about as miserable as you felt.

“Good morning,” you mumbled, taking your usual chair next to the head of the table. You were quick to accept the steaming cup of coffee Benedict handed you, shooting him a thankful look. “Dare I ask how we feel?”

“I think better than you and my dear sister here,” Benedict chirped, gesturing at a miserable looking Eloise. She had her head in her hands and was desperately trying to look at the plate of food in front of her with something other than repulsion. “Then again, I must admit I am somewhat more experienced in the art of late-night mischief than you both. I also did not have to deal with my brother before going to bed - thank you, again, for that noble sacrifice.”

“Your welcome,” you chuckled, a faint heat rising in your cheeks as you remembered the exact events after you and Anthony had gone to bed. “I just feel bad that you both got left to clean up the mess.”

“Don’t be. I think we got it all.”

“You say that but I can’t remember anything after you started singing in French,” Eloise groaned, massaging her forehead once more. “I have the oddest feeling we may have forgotten something.”

You paused. You could only hope for your sake she was wrong.

However, you were saved from such discussion by the arrival of the rest of the Bridgerton bunch. All conversation about your night-time escapades were quickly forgotten as Colin, Hyacinth and Gregory entered the room, bickering about something you couldn’t quite make out. They were swiftly followed by Violet and Francesca, who both looked unfairly cheerful for so early in the morning.

You could only wish to look so fresh and composed before your first cup of whatever caffeinated beverage you could get your hands on.

Then, finally, came your husband. Entering the room last, he turned and shot you a warm smile. Clearly, your shenanigans had been forgotten - for now - replaced instead by the memory of your other activities, much to the relief of you and your co-conspirators.

In fact, you swore you saw Eloise exhale a breath of relief when Anthony didn't immediately launch into one of his lectures. Instead, he chose to join the rest of his family in helping himself to the awaiting breakfast spread, laid out on the sideboard for them, listening to some ongoing debate between his mother and youngest brother.

“-but you said we could visit the park this afternoon.”

“I know, sweetheart, but I have to take Francesca and Eloise for their final fittings at the modiste. We shouldn’t be too long, and we can go after? Unless, perhaps your brothers will take you. Colin? Benedict? Anthony?”

Benedict looked physically pained at the idea of an afternoon at the park, what with his current delicate constitution and all. You honestly couldn't blame him. “Well, I uh - have a drawing class, this afternoon. Very last minute. Sorry.”

“And I... um, have a meeting at the club?” Colin stammered hastily. “Anthony?”

“Please, Anthony?” Gregory begged, all but pouting at his older brother as the pair made their way to the table. “I promise I’ll do all my lessons this week without complaining if you say yes. I’ll even let you have my pudding tonight.”

“As you asked so nicely, brother, I don’t see how an hour or so at the park could do any harm -” Anthony began, pulling out the chair next to you and lowering himself onto the seat in a moment that felt like it lasted forever as a horrifying sensation swept over you.

You remembered what you’d forgotten.

The chair.

“Anthony, wait-!”

The sudden crash was startling, as was the sight of your husband being sent flying backwards as the chair collapsed beneath him.

No one moved.

No one said a word.

Benedict looked across at you and Eloise, the horror clear in his eyes as he choked the word you felt on the tip of your tongue: “Run!”

#Bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton fluff #bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #ithebookhoarder #thesilentmage #masterlist #Violet Bridgerton #gregory bridgerton #hyacinth bridgerton #francesca bridgerton #bridgerton fluff #jonathan bailey #colin bridgerton

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New stills from 'Bridgerton' Season 3 (Liam Daniel/Netflix)

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BRIDGERTON APPRECIATION WEEK 2022 Day 5 ❥ non-romantic dynamic/song association Bridgerton Family

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They’re actually discovering their mutual love for gossip in this scene

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broadwayfan92 · 19 days

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Colin giving Penelope lessons to find a suitor

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#bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 #polin #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #bridgerton family #violet bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #kate bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #francesca bridgerton #gregory bridgerton #hyacinth bridgerton

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writtenfangirl · 14 days

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Madness

I wrote this so long ago and then abandoned it because I didn’t know if the ending was satisfactory or not. I thought it would have a greater plot as well but when I couldn’t find it, I was dissatisfied until I reread it and realized the prose was too good not to publish.

Fluff but also a little bit of angst if you squint hard enough.

In which Benedict Bridgerton finally reveals the truth.

She was beautiful. Too beautiful, if Benedict was being perfectly honest with himself. Not the kind of beauty that had him picking up a paint brush and painstakingly striking an easel with lovely swirls of color but the kind of beauty that distracted him, made him brood in a dim corner of the room, watching the little twists of her mouth and the subtle way she arched a brow. Beauty to the point of distraction, like spending hours watching shooting stars dash across the night sky, not realizing as dawn approached on the horizon.

It was utterly maddening.

She was utterly maddening.

How was he meant to live, to exist and breathe, to witness such great beauty and yet have none of the capacity, the right, to keep it?

Just a glance from her, a single curve of her lips, and Benedict could feel his faith in God strengthening as easily as he could deny the Lord’s existence. Only a benevolent God could create such ecstatic beauty and yet no benevolent God could exist in this world if Benedict had to bear the cruelty of Y/N’s indifference.

Maddening.

He sighed, the sound bereft as he continued to watch her charm the eligible men of the ton. She had a veritable cabal of men gathered around her and if any other debutant had been in her position, they surely would have been overwhelmed by now.

But not Y/N.

Never Y/N.

With her head held high and her smile demure, she directed the men as easily as if she was holding court. A slight clearing of the throat and already, someone had a glass of lemonade in their hand while a flap of her hand would have the men falling over themselves in an attempt to get her a chair.

A queen holding court, indeed.

Benedict rolled his eyes at the man to her right, who practically shoved at the man on his left in order to catch Y/N’s attention. Not that it really mattered though, especially not when Y/N’s attention was focused on Benedict.

Even from across the room, the tension between them felt palpable. Exhilarating. It always had been with Y/N. Thick and smooth, the connection between them as tangible as their own beating hearts. Just a shared look between them and the world fell silent, the edges of his vision practically darkening at the edges until he saw only her.

Beautiful. Even as her face contorted with hurt for the briefest of seconds, her eyes pulling away from him and returning to the crowd of men that surrounded her.

Benedict gritted his teeth, the only sign of annoyance he let himself show.

“I see you are not quite so enamored with our diamond.”

Benedict’s head whipped to the left, finding Lady Danbury watching him with those shrewd eyes of hers. The old crone had her cane gripped tightly in her hands and Benedict fought his grimace at the phantom pain that shot up from his ankles. The dowager countess had a terrible habit of whacking gentlemen she didn’t like with that sturdy cane of hers and Benedict had felt the brunt of that pain far too many times for his liking.

Still, as a gentleman, he couldn’t very well ignore the woman. It would have been terribly rude of him to and it went against every fiber of the etiquette that had been drilled to him as a child.

He spared Y/N another glance before he spoke. “You think all those men enamored with her?”

“I think they think themselves enamored by her,” Lady Danbury said. “She is quite a beauty and accomplished too, I hear. Are you acquainted with the young lady?”

He had been, when he was young. As recently as a few months ago, Benedict had counted Y/N as one of his dearest friends but with everything that transpired between them…

“We are familiar with one another.”

Lady Danbury arched a brow, directing her attention back to Y/N. She was animatedly speaking with Anthony and Colin, the only time the entire evening where her smile didn’t seem a little bit forced. “Your brothers seem friendly with her. Why aren’t you?”

Because he was a stupid, bloody, idiot who didn’t know how to keep his damn mouth shut, that’s why.

But his pride would never let him say that, especially not in front of Lady Danbury. “We are familiar with each other.” He repeated, voice tight.

Lady Danbury’s eyes flickered. “I seem to recall your mother telling me about how you and the Lady Y/N were thick as thieves not so long ago.”

Bloody hell, the old crone was relentless. He didn’t want to talk about his and Y/N’s falling out, especially not with her.

He suddenly whirled, cocking his head to the side. “Oh, I believe I hear someone calling me.”

No one was calling him but not even his impeccable manners could make him stay.

Lady Danbury harrumphed. “I may be old, boy, but I am not deaf.”

“Definitely hear someone calling me.” Benedict even cupped a hand, placing it on the side of his mouth before he yelled a quick, “I’ll be right there!” He turned back to Lady Danbury, who was looking at him as if she knew his claims were a lie. “Lady Danbury, if you’ll excuse me.”

The dowager countess simply gave Benedict a knowing look yet let him go.

He ducked into the crowd towards… bloody hell he couldn’t find anyone he would rather talk to. His brothers were still off speaking with Y/N and he didn’t feel like speaking with his mother, who would likely hound him about his fight with Y/N. Which left the last person of their party, Eloise. A quick scan of the room revealed his sister in the other side of the room, conspiratorially whispering to her best friend, Penelope Featherington.

He zoomed towards them, turning his back on Y/N and Lady Danbury.

Eloise caught his eye as he approached and her lips pursed in displeasure. “Why do you look as if you’re expecting me to bail you out of a horrible situation.”

“Can’t I see my favorite sister with joy in my face without being suspected of ill intent?”Benedict said with a grin before bowing to Penelope, who returned the gesture with her own curtsy.

Penelope ducked her head to suppress a giggle.

Eloise rolled her eyes at him. “What do you want?”

“To ask you why you’re sulking in a corner instead of dancing despite—“ he pulled at the dance card in her wrist, every single line filled with names that were unfamiliar to him. “Did you put fake names in your dance card?”

Eloise snatched her wrist back. “Yes. I thought that with Y/N grabbing the attention of so many of the gentlemen, I would be spared the embarrassment of having to entertain any gentlemen tonight. Unfortunately, I was wrong.”

Benedict turned to Penelope. “How many approached her?”

“Six,” Penelope smirked, “and those six quickly turned right back around.”

“Well with a full dance card, I’m not at all surprised.”

Eloise rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Spare me the lecture, brother. I’m sure I’ll hear enough from mother tonight.”

“She caught you?”

“After Eloise turned down the sixth one, Lady Violet began to suspect,” Penelope explained.

Benedict grinned. “When have you known me to lecture you?”

She gave him a saccharine smile, the kind that Benedict always knew would end with her barbed words. “Aren’t you meant to be fawning over Y/N? You’d done it most of our life.”

He bristled at her words.

Penelope shot them a curious look. “You never told me you were acquainted with the lady?”

“Hadn’t I?” Eloise frowned. “Lady Y/L/N’s family and ours have been acquainted for ages. Of course, she rarely ever came to London and if it hadn’t been for her father’s recent passing she wouldn’t have had a season at all. Mama had held hope that perhaps one of my dear brothers would begin to take some responsibility and marry her.” She lowered her voice in a conspiratorial whisper that was so loud, it still reached Benedict’s ears. “Personally, I always thought Benedict would offer. He and Y/N had a special bond growing up. Even Daphne thinks so.”

Benedict had never hit a woman before but perhaps, just this once, excuses could be made for one’s sisters.

“So, well acquainted then,” Penelope said with a slight smile.

“I do recall Benedict pining after Y/N for years,” Eloise mused, uncaring as Benedict’s mood soured. “You never did tell me why it is you suddenly became estranged”

“Not that it’s any of your business.” He grumbled.

Eloise batted eyes innocently. “Irritable today, aren’t you, brother? Could it possibly be because of the cadre of men that hound every one of Y/N’s footsteps?”

“I have changed my mind. Francesca is now my favorite sister.”

“I love you too, Benedict,” she all but grinned.

He turned his attention back to Y/N, who, to his surprise, had taken her leave.

“She’s in the garden, if you wish to speak to her,” Eloise said, noting his wandering eyes and nodding towards the open veranda at the side.

“What gave you the impression that I would like to speak to her?”

Eloise simply rolled her eyes before tugging Penelope’s arm. “With Y/N taking her respite, I imagine there will be a sudden influx of gentlemen who would like to dance. Let us make ourselves scarce.” And she pulled Penelope along, the red head offering Benedict an apologetic look.

He glanced at the crowd once again before letting his feet carry him through the veranda and out towards the garden. There were still many people milling about outside that granted them protection from scandal but it was much more intimate than the loud din of the ballroom.

The night was cool, the spring air serene compared to the humidity of the ballroom.

He spied Y/N, her back turned against the door. Upon hearing his approach, she sighed. “Good sir, if you did not understand me, I wish to be al—“ she turned and her words died at her lips at the sight of him. “Oh. It’s you.”

She looked even lovelier up close. She always did. Whether dressed in a simple frock with her long hair flowing down her back or dressed ornately with jewels adorning her, she always looked lovelier up close.

“What do you want, Benedict,” Y/N said, dropping that societal mask she employed inside.

“To apologize.”

She shook her head. “There is nothing to apologize for. You asked for my hand under false pretenses, I rejected you. End of story.“

“Under false pretenses?” He echoed, his own tone turning sharp. “You think my proposal to be insincere? Is that why you rejected me?”

“I did not think it insincere, I knew it to be insincere. I heard you and the Lady Violet discussing me. I heard when you declared your intention to ask for my hand in marriage simply because she had asked you to.”

Oh.

He remembered then, the conversation he had with his mother right before he proposed.

“Propose to her,” Violet had urged just as breakfast had been served, with only Benedict and Violet dining.

“I am not even courting her, mama,” he replied exasperatedly. It had been far too early in the morning to entertain his mother’s insistence on seeing him wed to Y/N. She’d pestered him about it in one form or another even before the Y/L/Ns had come to visit the Bridgertons and Benedict knew she would not stop until he and Y/N were formally engaged.

But Y/N had just ended her mourning period for her father. And though societal mandates dictated that it was perfectly reasonable for Benedict to ask for her hand in marriage, he knew how deeply she mourned the man, especially since his death had placed her in such a precarious position. The late patriarch of the Y/L/N family had been fond of his only child, even if she had been born a girl. And Y/N had loved him, even if his death left her and her mother saddled with financial debt despite coming from the longest line of barony in England.

“What does it matter that you are not courting?” Violet demanded. “You have known her since you were both children. You’ve been courting her all your life.”

“Mama, please leave it well enough alone.”

“What is it that you do not like about her?” She insisted. “She is beautiful and accomplished and you have known each other your whole lives. Any young man would be fortunate to be bound to her in marriage.”

“I never said anything that would imply otherwise.”

“Then why do you refuse to ask her for her hand in marriage? Doing so would spare her a season in London and limit their financial troubles.” And then she had gasped in indignation. “Or is their financial troubles the very reason why you refuse? I never raised you to be avaricious!”

Bloody hell. “I am not avaricious, mother. I do not care about her dowry or lack thereof!”

“Then what is it? Do not tell me it is because you do not love her. I have seen the way you look at her.”

Benedict had eyed his fork, had wondered if perhaps, it would be a better to shove it in his ears than listen to his mother’s hullabaloo.

Instead he took a scone, spreading a generous layer of clotted cream and jam so his hands had something to do rather than maim himself.

“And how is it I look at her, mother?” He drawled.

“The same way your father used to look at me.”

At that he had paused, scone half-raised to his mouth. He hadn’t known what to say anymore. Mentions of his own father had always been capable of silencing his mind.

Finally, he had decided on telling her the truth, that his mother may finally stop pestering him.

“Asking Y/N for her hand in marriage had always been the plan, mother,” Benedict relented. “I was simply waiting for the perfect moment.”

Violet smiled at her son kindly. “There are no such thing as perfect moments, dearest. Only moments that can be made perfect. And whether you ask her later or tomorrow or next week, that moment will be perfect by virtue of you asking.”

She was right, of course. Violet Bridgerton was so rarely incorrect especially in matters of the heart and love.

Benedict had given her a smile, and said, voice dripping in sarcasm. “Well, since you so graciously asked me to, I shall propose to the Lady Y/N, if only to make you happy.”

That must have been what Y/N heard. Not the whole story but the end, when Benedict had teased his mother.

Now he was convinced that God existed and that he must be cruel. Only the machinations of a cruel God could have lined up the timing perfectly.

Y/N’s eyes flickered as she regarded him. “I do not wish to bind you in marriage with someone you do not hold any affection for. You have fulfilled your promise to your mother and have asked for my hand. I rejected you. We no longer have any obligations with one another. Good night.” She made a move to pass him, to walk back to the ballroom to her gaggle of men but Benedict’s hand shot up, gripping her arm and keeping her to him.

His hands were gloved and even Y/N’s arms were sheathed in silk. And though he had never felt gloves to be particularly offensive, he wished to burn the ones that covered their hands. If only so he could feel her smooth skin beneath his fingers.

The heady scent of her perfume wafted through his senses. She smelled divine, like walking through a garden of roses under the cover of moonlight as the stars twinkled above his head. Utterly mouthwatering, and capable of driving even the sanest of men into insanity. The scent of distraction.

Always so distracting.

Benedict forced his mouth to speak before his brain could forget the words he needed to say. “Do you think so little of me? Capable of such cruelty especially when it comes to you.”

Y/N’s brows met, a flash of pain in her eyes and then it was gone. “It is the opposite, really. I think the world of you, Benedict. Only a gentleman would offer to marry a girl he has no obligations to simply because of her precarious position in life. You are an honorable man and any woman would be lucky to call you their husband. It is why I cannot accept your proposal, not when you do not love me. Not when there is no one on this world more deserving of love than you.”

Benedict frowned at her. “Why do you continue to insist that I do not love you?”

“Because you do not!” She pulled away from him, wrenching her hand from his grasp. Her eyes were pure anguish as she looked at him and the very sight of her pain had him staggering back. “If you truly held any affection for me, I would know. I have studied you all our lives, Benedict. And in all the time we shared together, you had never shown any affection for me beyond that of a friend. Your proposal hurt, Benedict. I have loved you in every way a man could be loved for so long and for you to ask for my hand in marriage out of pity—“ She choked, eyes widening as if she didn’t mean to say the things she’d said.

“You love me?” He echoed, heart beating quickly in his chest. He wondered, briefly, if his fast beating heart marks the day he really lived. If Y/N’s confession had been the reason he truly felt alive for the first time in his life.

Her face crumpled in pain as she stepped back. “Forgive me, I shouldn’t have said those things. Please take your leave, Benedict. That I may salvage whatever scraps of my dignity is left.”

But Benedict did no such thing.

Instead he took her hands and lowered himself into a kneel, setting his eyes upon her. The arching light of the manor spilled over the veranda casted her in a soft glow that took his very breath away.

Y/N’s eyes widened in alarm and whatever pain she held there was washed away by her surprise. “Benedict, what are you doing?”

“Begging you for forgiveness.”

“What? Benedict, get up.”

But he held firm, his determination cementing his knees to the ground. “Forgive me, Y/N, for my grave transgressions against you. That you had ever lived your life doubting my affections for you, or wondering if I cared for you as more than a friend are sins I will carry with me to my last breath. It will be my great shame that I had not made it abundantly clear that I love you. Because I do love you. Most ardently.”

“Benedict, get up. This is madness—“

“You are right. It is madness. The way I feel for you would drive the sanest of people into lunacy. But if loving you is madness then I don’t ever wish to be sane.”

Her eyes gleamed silver with unshed tears that threatened to fall from her pretty eyes. “B-But that morning, the day you proposed—“

“I did not propose to you out of pity for you, I did it out of pity for me. I needed to put myself out of my misery and finally marry the only girl I ever had the privilege of falling in love with rather than continue pining after you in secret.”

She let out a a laugh through her tears, the sound like bells chiming during a storm. Light and beautiful despite the pouring rain that threatened to drown it out. “Ask me again.”

His heart leapt to his throat, pounding so quickly he struggled to get the words out. But they came nonetheless, the words clear and betraying none of his anxiety. “Y/N, will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

508 notes · View notes

frost-queen · 14 days

Text

All about the heart (Reader & Bridgerton Siblings)

Requested by: @mariexoxosblog, Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury, @imagines-by-her, @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn, @cherrysxuya

Summary: Reader has a heart defect where you have a hard time breathing whilst running with your siblings.

Chatter filled the park as the Bridgerton’s arrived. Anthony in the front, looking over his shoulder to reply to Colin’s remark. Francesca running past him with Gregory. Eloise and Benedict walking side by side in silence. Francesca with mama as Daphne had her arm around you. Some gents and ladies turned their heads at the sudden disturbance of peace. – “Gregory! Hyacinth! Stay close!” – Violet called out seeing they were running off.

Hyacinth giggled loud, turning around to run up to Anthony. Anthony paused, blocked her way and picked her up to her dislike. She called it out when she got lifted up. Her complaints ending in laughter as Anthony set her back down. Gregory ran up to the tent, claiming the first chair as his by letting himself fall into it. Benedict jogged over to him.

Whistling loud with a nudge against his leg to get off. – “This is my seat.” – Gregory said stubborn. Benedict set his hands on the arms of the chair, leaning in. – “Go help mama.” – he replied with a cheeky smile. Gregory stared annoyed at him as Benedict kept nudging him to get up.

Gregory got up going over to Violet as Benedict sat himself down smiling. Francesca rounded him with crossed arms. – “You are the worst.” – she commented with half a smile. Benedict shrugged his shoulders, glad he had a good chair. Daphne saw another one of the folding chairs leading you to it. She sat you down happily.

She then went over to Colin to assist him into spreading out a blanket. Benedict grabbed the arms of his chair, hopping his chair closer to yours so that he could face you. – “Comfortable sister?” – he asked. You nodded. Benedict held his hand low with a luring smirk. You slapped your hand down on his with a laugh.

Benedict grabbed for you, tickling you. You squirmed against his grip, already feeling it come up. Feeling how hard your heart was pumping to get the blood flowing around your body. Your breathing becoming deeper, getting worn out. Anthony noticed it, running over. He slapped Benedict against his back to stop.

Benedict moved his hands up, looking questionable at Anthony’s glare. It gave you the time to seat yourself better and catch your breath. Immediately you were worn out. Anthony knelt before you, laying a hand on your knee. – “Are you alright Y/n?” – he asked. You hummed loud, still trying to steady your breathing. It always took a while to do so. – “I’m not fragile.” – you said to your big brother with a smile.

Anthony took your hand, looking fondly up to you. – “No, but you mustn’t forget your limits.” – he reminded you. Benedict felt a bit guilty. He just wanted to have fun, like he did with Hyacinth or Gregory. You saw the sudden silence and guilt on his face. You moved Anthony aside to get to Benedict. Wrapping your arms around him. – “Thank you for not treating me any different.” – you whispered to him. Benedict hugged you back.

It wasn’t easy being different from your different. A heart defect they called it. A default in the heart that made it easier for you to get worn out. Your heart needing to put in that little extra effort to get the blood flow around your body. Gregory came over, tugging at Anthony. – “Come play!” – he said, pulling Anthony away. You waved him away, letting him know, you would be alright. – “I’ll just settle with my notebook.” – you told him.

Benedict re-arranged the chairs so that you were sitting beside each other. He took out his sketchbook and pencil. You opened your notebook scribbling down words. Poets. Little stories you loved to write out. Colin joined Anthony, Gregoy and Hyacinth by the tent for a game. Violet was sharing tea with Daphne and Francesca. Eloise laid down near them, trying to catch some more sleep.

Hyacinth and Anthony stood before each other. Gregory and Colin to the side. Hyacinth signalled to Anthony that she was ready to throw. She threw the hoop at him. Both Gregory and Colin trying to grab it. They missed as the hoop hooked around Anthony’s arm. He pulled his eyebrow cheeky up, making Hyacinth laugh. Anthony threw the hoop back as Colin shot his hand forwards, hitting the hoop with his fingers as it landed against Gregory’s head.

“Au, what was that for.” – Gregory called out, rubbing his head. – “Sorry.” – Colin apologized. Gregory picked the hoop up from the ground, giving it back to Anthony for another try. Benedict moved his head to the side, trying to peak at your notebook. – “Writing a poem about me?” – he asked teasingly.

You busted out in a laughter. – “You have to admit I am very interesting to write poems about.” – he brought his hands behind his back, stretching his legs out. His comment made you roll your eyes in a sarcastic way.

“If Y/n wrote about you it would make people scream.” – Eloise commented with one eye half open. Benedict looked behind him to her on the blanket. – “Scream with terror.” – Eloise filled in with a loud laugh. Benedict moved his hand behind him to playfully slap at her but he couldn’t reach her. Gregory came running over to you. – “Y/n do you want to play with us?” – he asked.

“I would love to.” – you answered putting your notebook away. – “Be mindful Y/n.” – Violet called out as you went after Gregory. – “Yes mama.” – you responded getting pulled away by Gregory. You joined the others. – “Let’s play tag.” – Hyacinth suggested. Anthony looked over to you. – “Suggest something else Hyacinth.” – he spoke.

You immediately knew he referred to you. – “I can handle it. Let’s play tag.” – you expressed not wanting to give your family limitations. – “Y/n are you sure?” – Colin spoke as you didn’t want to hear any more pity. – “Yes! Now let’s play.” – you said a bit annoyed. – “I’ll be it.” – Anthony moved his hand up, his other pressed to his chest.

Hyacinth and Gregory started to run away. Colin waited for you. You started easy, jogging off as you immediately felt it. Your breathing becoming shallow and loud. Anthony started to run as you staid still for a moment to catch your breath. You saw your brother run over to Gregory as he made his way over to you. With Gregory nearing, you had to run as well. You kept going feeling the pounding of your heart in your head.

Your legs feeling like it carried sandbags. The immediate feeling of tiredness in your legs as you knew you couldn’t hold it out any longer. You needed a moment to stop. Anthony noticed it slowing down. He looked around, going after Colin as he deliberately left you alone. – “Hey you could’ve tagged her!” – Colin called out taking a run for it.

“I choose whom I tag!” – Anthony breathed out. Anthony was able to tag Hyacinth as she was bummed out by it. You were near Colin, standing a bit still as Colin was shielding you a bit. Hyacinth came running over. Colin darted to the side as she focused her tag on you instead.

Squealing loud, you leapt aside, starting to run to avoid her. Hyacinth kept running after you. You weren’t a quitter so you kept running. Feeling your body tire out from the exercise. Breathing loud that it was more like panting. Your head turning a shade of red as you felt warm. Heart pounding in your head. – “Tag you’re it!” – Hyacinth called out touching your back.

The moment she tagged you, you stopped. Legs feeling sloppy as you let yourself fall to the ground. – “Y/n!” – your brothers called out. Benedict’s eyes widened, jumping out of his chair to run over. You laid yourself on your back, panting loud to catch your breath. Anthony and Colin rushing over to kneel at each side of you. – “Are you alright sister?” – Anthony asked worried. – “I’m fine.” – you answered out of breath.

“I just… need to catch… my breath…” – you replied, feeling your heart pound loudly in your chest. You noticed your siblings looked frightfully at you. – “I’m alright. I just need a moment to recover.” – you reminded them. Colin helped you sit up straight as you were still breathing loudly through your mouth. – “How about a game of cards?” – you suggested with a laugh. Benedict shook his head playfully. Anthony and Colin helped you up to your feet. Leading you back to the tent for some calmer games.

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