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tilly-tilly-2827 · 14 days

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Leave it by Degrees #5

The unhinged love story loosely based on Shakespeare's Love's Labour's Lost that I can't get out of my head.

Synopsis: "Have we ever met?"

AO3 post from here!

Previous Chapter from Here!

So, so, odd. He thought to himself as he seated himself in the corner. After spending five hours staring into the white canvas, he had dragged himself into the bar. With Anthony’s oath in the head, he sipped on sparkling water as he took out the sketchbook on the table. It was getting late, at 11:00 in the night, and the bar was mostly elderly couples enjoying a nighttime drink, everyone dressed in tropical-colored shirts and dresses. Benedict smiled softly seeing an elderly couple slowly dancing to John Mayer's Gravity. It was a jazz version cover of the song, the piano softly following the melancholic tune. Benedict's hands worked expertly, sketching the old couple, but just in the corner of his eye, Benedict saw an odd figure, a woman wearing a navy suit, contemplating with a glass of whiskey in one hand, and a cigarette in the other. Her soft brown curls cast over her eyes, she looked more like a tired corporate official, not a young woman on holiday. Everything about her was out of place, the suit, the whiskey, the cigarette, everything looked so off-putting. Yet, he could not take her eyes off her, his hands unconsciously working on the paper, trying to capture her in his sketchbook. First, her back, then her hands…

But just as Benedict raised his eyes to observe her again, he noticed that she was no longer alone, a man sliding into her side. The bulky guy in a purple open-collar shirt seemed to be flirting with her, yet the girl didn’t seem interested, not dropping the cigarette or the glass from her fingers. Way out of his league. Benedict thought quietly to himself, catching her green almond eyes and long eyelashes under her fringes. He continued to sketch away, keeping a distance from the two, but he knew he had to intervene when he saw the man chip something into her glass. He quickly stumbled himself from the chair, but he couldn’t quite stop the girl from taking another sip.

“Hey, stop right there, mate.”

“Bridgerton!”

“...Cavender?”

Damn, he cursed under his breath. Phillip Cavender. He had been a schoolmate from Eaton, notorious for his wild parties outside the campus, and he was quite ashamed to have attended some of his parties. The brat put his arms around his neck, almost as if nothing had happened.

“It’s been ages, lad! How have you been? Heard you became an artist…”

“What did you put in her drink?”

“…Nothing.”

“And suddenly she’s dozing off?”

Her shoulders hunched into a curve, the girl was slowly nodding off, Benedict quickly took the cigarette from her hand, disposing of it on the ashtray.

“Come on, Bridgerton,” Cavender gave him a nasty grin, lowering his voice in a hushed tone, eyeing the girl now snoring softly in her arms, “She’s pretty enough. How about we have some fun, you and I?”

“I don’t consider rape an entertainment, Cavender,” Benedict said coolly, removing his arm around his shoulder, he quickly eyed the Bartender, explaining to her the situation. “There’s a CV right there, there should be footage.”

Cavender was swiftly escorted from the bar, (“Don’t ever expect an invitation to my parties!” Cavender cursed but Benedict only rolled his eyes,) He gently tapped the girl on the shoulder, wanting to wake her up but he began to realize the effect of the drug that she had choked down.

“Ms? Are you all right?”

“Mmmmmmmmm.”

“Let me take you to your room. Which room are you…”

“Five minutes, please? I just need to sleep a bit more…”

“Apparently some scumbag had given you some kind of medication…”

“Hi.”

Benedict jerked, seeing the girl suddenly pop up her head from her arms, staring at him with her evergreen eyes.

“Hi?”

“...Benedict Bridgerton?”

“You know me?”

“How would I not know you?”

She broke out in a lazy grin, a childish smile that was so different from the women he had seen smoking and drinking a few minutes ago, and he somehow knew that that was the smile he wanted to see on her face. Her almond eyes, her light, singalong voice, it was so familiar, but he just couldn’t put a finger to it.

“You’re much more attractive than I saw you in the pictures.”

“I would very much like to know the name to whom I’m receiving such compliments.”

“Five minutes.” she purred, nuzzling her head onto the counter. “Let me sleep for five minutes and I’ll tell you my name.”

And for the next hour, Benedict decided to stay by her side, as she snored happily on the bar stools. To protect her, he justified himself, but he took the chance to sketch her, just catching the delicate eyelashes and her beautifully shaped eyebrows. But as the clock struck midnight, he knew that they had to start leaving soon.

“Ms, can you tell me your room number?” Benedict tried again, but his attempts were quite useless. Just when Benedict was about to call the staff, he was suddenly caught by the wrist, her delicate fingers wrapped around his wrist.

“Don’t leave me here.”

“Pardon?”

“Take me to your room.”

“What?”

“...Take me to your room?”

“Aren’t we moving too fast?”

“I rather think it’s an appropriate pace.”

“But, we’ve just met.”

“Do you honestly care?”

“Well…” he gulped. “Perhaps not.”

“…I need you right now.” Her burning eyes met his, and Benedict hitched his breath. Her voice was dripping with sweetness, a breathless whisper. “I need you right now, right here.”

Millions of thoughts went through his head in three seconds. His first instinct was to kiss her hard and take her down right there, but god they were in a public place. Taking advantage of the intoxicated was out of the question, but the almond eyes and rosy cheeks, well developed in the places…she was the sort of girl he would like to bed with. And he was given a chance right now.

He took a deep breath. Think Rationally, Benedict.

“I’ll take you to my room.”

“How are you going to take me?” She smiled cheekily, and Benedict almost laughed out loud, knowing that the drugs were working too effectively on her.

“I’m going to take you to bed, and tuck you in.” Benedict gently put his arms behind her knees and her neck, gently carrying her in his arms. She was fearfully light, almost like a feather..

“You’re not coming with me?”

“I’d love to,” Benedict chuckled softly, as he walked out of the bar, feeling the night air. “But I don’t think you can handle me tonight.”

“Why so? I’m perfectly capable.” She tutted, pouting her lips slightly.

“I’m sure you are.” Benedict laughed, “But I like to start with introductions.”

----------------------------------------------

“I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU BROKE THE OATH! IT’S ONLY BEEN A WEEK BENEDICT!”

Sophie woke up to the sound of an angry roar. Instant panic rose inside her, seeing that she was not on her bed, not her Villa, and the voices she heard over the door were not of Posy nor Kate. Although she was relieved that she was still in her navy suit, she quickly stripped herself away from the sheets. Taking a deep breath, she slowly cracked open the door, and her stomach flipped seeing Benedict Bridgerton and Anthony Bridgerton screaming at each other, the elder dressed in running gear and the younger just in a pair of gray sweatpants. Completely bare on the top. She suddenly felt heated, Sophie quickly averted her gaze, seeing his muscular arms strangling his brother's neck.

“BROTHER I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO TELL YOU THAT”

“TRYING TO TELL ME WHY THERE IS A GIRL IN THE BED? BENEDICT YOU ARE A COMPLETE MORON…”

“Um, good morning?”

The two brothers quickly broke off, Anthony giving an angry huff and sitting back on the couch with his arms crossed, while Benedict gave her a charming smile, his eyes twinkling with glee. Sophie’s heart skipped a beat. Keep it together, Sophia.

“Hi.”

The girl looked radiant as ever. Without a drink or a cigarette in her hand, she was almost angelic, little and petite, her brown curls flying everywhere. Her blond curls almost looked blond in the morning light, and he quickly moved to her side, leaning against the side of the door.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Um, yes.”

“Benedict, Benedict Bridgerton. Nice to meet you.” Taking his hand out, he shook her hand, again feeling a peculiar feeling of familiarity.

“Sophia. Sophie. Sophie Beckett.”

She did feel a rush of relief; knowing that he had not noticed her. She had expected that part, but she still couldn’t understand why she was in his Villa. Did I sleep with him again? Sophie could feel herself becoming smaller and smaller as Benedict gave her a knowing grin, a teasing spark in his ocean-blue eyes.

“YOU DIDN’T EVEN NO EACH OTHER NAMES? THIS IS THE EXACT BEHAVIOR I WAS TALKING ABOUT…”

“Brother, Ms. Beckett was drugged in the bar by Phillip Cavender, and was almost sexually assaulted by that very man.”

“Oh.”

“I happened to stop him just before she was taken into his room, and I was going to take her back to her room, but she was too befuddled to talk, so I took her here. For her safely.”

“I see.” Sophie could almost see Anthony’s broad body shrinking into a pebble. “I hope you are all right, Ms. Beckett.”

“I’m all right.” Sophie softly nodded, “I owe much thanks to your brother. Please do not blame him. I can promise that he has kept his celibacy, He broke your oath only to save me…”

“How do you know about Mr. Bridgertons Oath?”

The three jumped at the sharp voice behind them, but it was only Hugh Woodson at the door, with a laptop in his arms. “I, I’m sorry to interrupt your conversion, Mr. Bridgerton. I was waiting in the lobby for the morning briefing..”

“No worries, Woodson.” Anthony gave a soft nod to Woodson, but the gaze he returned to Sophie was quite sharp. “Ms. Beckett, might I ask how you knew of My brother’s celibacy?”

“There was a post in the Lady Whistledown…”

The two brothers groaned. “How does she know about everything?” Benedict rolled his eyes, sinking into the white sofa. “I’ve told nobody about this anyone except you and Colin!”

“Must have been caught in the bar.” Anthony sighed, taking off his running shoes, “That woman has ears on every wall of London.”

“But you also knew my name, last night.” Benedict’s eyebrows raised ever so slightly, a look of confusion on his face. “I understand you would know my brother, but how did you recognize me?”

Here we go. Sophie softly ran her hands in her hair and soothed out the scratches in her navy suit with her hands. Finding her bag on the floor, she took her card, handing it over to Benedict with two hands.

“Mr. Bridgerton. I haven’t introduced myself yet, I’m from the Gunningworth Foundation…”

As Benedict's mouth hung open in shock, Anthony tried to hide his smirk. Yes, he was angry that his brother had tried to break the oath, it was amusing to see it backfire on him splendidly. Running away from the contact, only to catch the contractor in his arms. Ironic.

“I’m here to negotiate the deal, on behalf of Araminta Gunningworth….”

“No, no, no, no, no.” Benedict jumped up from the sofa, tripping at least three feet away from Sophie. “I’ve already said no!”

“Yes, but I believe we can reach an agreement...”

“I’m not interested in your offer.”

“But Mr. Bridgerton…”

“Ms. Beckett.” Woodson’s voice was rather quiet, but Sophie noticed his dangerous tone. “This is a private space, Ms. Beckett. Do you not understand that you are invading their privacy?”

“I’m aware of that, Mr. Woodson.”

“May I show you the way out?”

In complete silence, Sophie followed Woodson’s lead, taking her bag and her jacket in her hands. At the last moment, she stopped, turning her head and looking straight into Benedict’s eyes. Benedict suddenly stopped breathing, her moss green gaze somehow grasping his throat from three feet away.

“May I invite you to dinner at Out of the Blue tonight, Mr. Bridgeton?”

“A dinner?”

“Yes.” Sophie quietly continued. “To show my gratitude. It was a very heroic thing you did last night.”

Benedict could only grunt.

“It would be lovely if I could have an opportunity to show my thanks. This is not about the foundation or the deal.”

“So, you are personally asking me to go to dinner with you?”

“Yes.”

“All right then.”

Anthony could hear Woodson growl in the back of his throat, he quickly put one hand on his shoulder. Woodson was incredibly protective of the two, he was almost about to bite Sophie Beckett in the arms. “Would it be trouble if I joined you, Ms. Beckett? And also Woodson?”

“I see no problem Mr. Bridgerton. Would 19:00 be convenient for you?”

The three nodded in agreement, and Sophie slightly curled her lips in satisfaction. Bring him on the table, and the job is half done.

As Sophie quietly left the room, Woodson’s deep sigh filled the room.

“You could have rejected her offer, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Well, yes, but.”

“I thought it peculiar as well, dear brother,” Anthony chipped in, opening up a newspaper on the table, “She’s not exactly your type is she? Normally you would go for slightly older…”

“Oi!”

Anthony chuckled seeing his brother turn slightly red.

“Did you invite yourself to the table so I won’t fall into her honey trap?”

“I invited myself to make sure you won’t break the oath.”

“Very compassionate, brother.”

“Well, thank me later, dear Brother.”

------------------------------------

“Walk of shame, walk of shame.” As Sophie sneaked back into her Villa, she was welcomed by Kate, grinning ear to ear in her Adidas running shorts and shoes. “I knew you were going to get shagged.”

“I’m sorry to betray your expectations, but I haven’t had a single kiss,”

“Then why are you wearing the same clothes as yesterday?”

“Apparently I was drugged in the bar and passed out.”

“WHAT?” The color drained from Kate, “Sophie, are you all right?”

“I’m all right. A guy happened to catch the scene of the crime, and he called the staff just in time.”

Kate’s eyes were cast down, her right hand rubbing the other arm.

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have left you in the bar last night…”

“No, don’t apologize. I was the one who was being careless.”

“Oh, Sophs,” Kate took Sophie in her arms, embracing her in a hug. “I’m so sorry you had to experience this,”

“Katie,”

“Mmm?”

“Do you know who came to help me?”

“Who?”

“...Benedict Bridgerton.”

“Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.”

As Kate’s mouth hung open in shock and surprise, Sophie told her the whole story, including the dinner she had planned. She was hoping Kate would attend the dinner as well, to make the meeting more casual, and Kate happily had agreed to go with her.

“Want to go to the spa with me this morning? I booked a session at 9:30.”

“I’d love to, but I just want to review my material for tonight.”

“All right then.” Kate gave a long stretch, “Break a leg, Sophs.”

“I’m going to,” Sophie grinned back, “By the way, how was the morning run?”

“Oh, it was absolutely beautiful. The gardens? Magnificent. But you won’t believe the man I met on the course, he was absolutely aggravating, Sophs…”

#benedict bridgerton #bridgerton #benophie #sophie beckett #an offer from a gentleman #benedict x sophie #benophie fics #bridgerton fanfiction #modern au

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sofwrites · 3 years

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Each other's biggest ally

Polin Week Day 1: Favorite Quote

“No, his method of attack was a lazy smile, a well-timed joke. If Colin ever lost his temper...

Penelope shook her head slightly, unable even to fathom it. Colin would never lose his temper. At least not in front of her. He'd have to be really, truly—no, profoundly —upset to lose his temper. And that kind of fury could only be sparked by someone you really, truly, profoundly cared about.” - Romancing Mister Bridgerton, pg. 64

The one where Colin profoundly cared and had no choice but to lose his temper.

Type: One-shot, angst, sentimentalism, protective/mywife!Colin, protectective/myhusband!Penelope

Length: 3.3k

Read on ao3! Or continue under the cut

In the late months of the year 1825, Penelope Featherington Bridgerton published her debut novel titled The Wallflower. And in the early months of the year 1826, she relished in the praise of her work and suffered in the consequences of her now-public identity.

The response to her book was generally positive. Whether or not they were willing to admit it, the members of the ton were eager to uncover the scathing details surrounding Mrs. Bridgerton’s former pen name. They devoured the secrets hidden between the lines of the pages- forming their own conclusions and theories of what was fact and what was fiction.

It seemed that after many years of Penelope appearing to be invisible, the gravity of her voice was finally truly understood.

But as in all life, there were complications as well.

One gentleman in particular was quick to make his discontent known, and it was all due to just one short excerpt.

Although Beatrice did not befriend even half of the ton, she had made the acquaintance of nearly everyone at one point. And though they never realized, she scrutinized them almost as much as they disregarded her.

Even with her close examinations, she generally liked the people she met. There were bores, many in fact, as well as those with whom conversation could rarely be carried, but most were reasonably pleasant. There were exceptions, however, as there always are. One such exception was as follows:

It is an earlier season for Beatrice, one still full of wonder and disillusioned hope. She looks at the dancefloor with wistfulness in her eyes, dreaming, praying that her prince charming will notice her from across the room and ask her to take his arm.

He does not, of course. His mind is still focused fully on the small group that surrounds him, drawn to him like a shining star amongst the thinly veiled candlelight. Although the music is certainly too loud and the conversations too many, our heroine can perfectly hear his laughter through the crowded ballroom. She can hear it because she knows it better than she knows her own.

Later that evening, he’ll ask her to dance. He’ll remember her minuscule presence in his life, likely prodded by a sharp finger to his spine and a voice carrying a gentle reminder. And even though she knows why he will do so, knows that it is due to a kind sense of duty rather than true desire, she will cherish it all the same.

Right now, however, Beatrice remains at the edge of the dancefloor, her silent woes interrupted by the familiar voice of her mother.

“Beatrice, dear, this is Mr. Wetherden. Mr. Wetherden, I present to you my daughter, Beatrice Harpenton.”

Another bachelor, this one ranking second-tier rather than third. Her mother seems to have given her more credit this evening, Beatrice thinks as she looks at the familiar face.

The introduction is an unnecessary formality, of course, as are many of their rules; they were made acquaintances during her first season. Nonetheless, society calls for her to curtsy and give a gracious smile, and she obliges.

At the same time, he assesses her similarly to how he did so a few years before. And she sees it immediately, the dismissal that passes over his eyes even before he fully bends into his low bow.

Her mother leaves them to it- the stifled conversation in an even more stifling ballroom. The unfortunate girl in the canary-colored dress stands on the sidelines, trapped in conversation with yet another uninterested bachelor who is just as much forced upon her as she is on him.

He speaks endlessly, unquestionably more for his benefit than hers. He spends fourteen minutes explaining the difference between rugby and football. She suppresses three yawns and is interrupted twenty-six times throughout the topic, clearly expected to be an audience member rather than a participant.

At this time, she thinks this is Mr. Wetherden’s worst offense. Later on, when she is years older, Beatrice discovers that she was sorely mistaken in her youth. That without the cautionary lights of London (albeit often cloudy and forgiving), he is much worse.

She later on learns about his propensity to unwilling women. To frightened young housemaids who are often not given the options that women of a higher class are granted.

Our heroine also finds out later exactly how commonplace such a tendency is. And with it, her vision of social seasons- the one with balls and picnics and musicales- begins to splinter.

Penelope hadn’t named him, of course. She hadn’t named anyone directly.

She couldn’t publish a memoir, not really. Even though she was related to a fine variation of important characters in society, she couldn’t put such a strain on her family, and particularly not on her husband. Her husband, her lovely, amazing husband who supported her through the entire process even despite the fact that so much of their own private history was laid out in the pages of her novel. Penelope had written the truth, which hadn’t been entirely pretty. But Colin had agreed with her that the truth was more important than sheltering their secrets.

But even though she couldn’t publish a direct recounting of her life and experiences with the ton, she’d been unwilling to just hide behind fabricated stories.

Penelope’s telling of that night at the ball wasn’t completely factual. She did not know how many times Phillip Cavender interrupted her during their conversation, nor whether or not Colin had even been present that evening. But the details of the matter weren’t as important to her as shedding light on the entire situation.

She’d been young and naive during her first few seasons, believing that a few nasty comments and looks were really the worst of what society had to offer. Later on, she’d found out that she had been wrong, and that there was much worse than she’d ever known. And when her sister-in-law, Sophie, had recounted the night she and Benedict had met (well, met again), Penelope knew that she had to shed light on the matter. She had to make it clear what happened outside of the fancy dresses and giggling parties.

But as mentioned, such decisions did not come without their objections.

“Thank God, they’re leaving.”

The words came from just a few feet behind them, full of indignancy and bitterness. The couple had been walking together, arm-in-arm, towards the door, quite eager to return home for the evening.

They’d been attending an intimate house party at the request of the gentleman’s mother. She’d been unable to make her attendance that evening and had asked that her son and his wife go in her stead. They hadn’t been particularly excited about the prospect, but they’d agreed for her.

The party itself hadn’t been bad. The food was good, the music was pleasant, and almost everyone in attendance had offered the woman praise for her work. Though they hadn’t exactly been excited to attend, the evening hadn’t been at all poor.

That was, until they’d been nearing the exit and heard the troublesome remark behind them.

Colin glanced down at his wife, who grimaced, her nose scrunching as her eyes closed. They’d been met with a number of sneers and snide comments in the last few weeks, but they never became easier to hear.

With a small sigh, he turned them both around, looking directly at the man holding a glass of port too large and wearing a lip too curled.

Colin gave him a smile, the familiar one he used whenever he was looking at something that both irritated and mildly amused him. “Didn’t see you there, Cavender. So nice of you to offer us a sendoff.”

The opposing man’s mouth turned downwards, a stark contrast to the grin still on Colin’s face. Penelope swallowed, quickly cutting in. “We really must be getting home.”

With a pointed look directed towards her husband, she began pulling him back towards the door. Though Penelope would have loved to see Phillip Cavender get put into his place, she knew far better than to spar with a man holding a petty vendetta.

But before they’d even fully turned around, there was a mocking bark of laughter, followed by a slight slurring of words. “You do everything she tells you then? Follow her around like a lapdog?”

This time, Colin’s brow lifted ever so slightly, the same half-smile still imprinted on his lips. Penelope felt an uncomfortable heat rising up her neck as she reluctantly turned from the door again.

“If it means getting to share my life with this incredible woman,” Colin sent her a small wink before shrugging, “Then, by all means, call me a lapdog.”

There was some tittering around them by the small audience they’d attracted. With a quick glance, Penelope could see the angry lurch in Cavender’s throat, the narrowing of his eyes, the twitching of his fingers as they tightened around his glass.

Please, just let it go. Let us just leave and go home.

But he didn’t. Of course, he didn’t.

“I know what lies she’s spread about me.”

“Oh?” Colin’s face took on a thoughtful expression, one that might have been convincing in any other circumstance. “I don’t recall ever hearing my wife mentioning you.”

Cavender’s glare deepened. “In that bloody book of hers.”

Penelope cringed inwardly as she felt the twitch of Colin’s hand in hers. Her eyes darted around the room as an overwhelming sense of dread engulfed her. The ballroom was small and the guests were bored, and a public row was certainly enough to draw a crowd- one that was full of prying eyes and listening ears.

Colin’s face remained the picture of serenity even though Penelope could sense the angry heat rising from him. It was something she could feel in him that others always missed, a secret fire that he did so well in masking.

Looking at the other man, Colin let out a sigh, one that was forcibly tired, as though he were speaking down to an overly emotional child. “I can assure you that all the characters in my wife’s novel were fabricated. And if you saw yourself in one of the less attractive personages, then I’d venture to say that such is simply a reflection of your own self-image.”

The whispers around them grew, and Cavender sputtered for a moment, clearly caught off guard by the easy taunt. But his surprise only lasted a moment before he hardened once more.

A man with a petty vendetta did not often allow himself to be diverted.

His eyes flickered to Penelope before they returned to Colin and he sneered. “You realize that she’s made you out to be an ass, don’t you? You can act high and mighty, Bridgerton, but the wife you so proudly boast has fashioned you into the biggest fool in all of London.”

It was at this jab that Penelope frowned, feeling her own prickle of anger. And for the first time in the nasty exchange, she turned directly to their shared foe, a hard, determined look set on her face. “Excuse me, Mr. Cavender, but I must ask that you don’t speak to my husband that way.”

She could almost see his eyes flash in fury as they set themselves on her. But before he could give the biting retort that was no doubt resting on his tongue-

“And I’d suggest that you consult a dictionary to properly understand the concept of fiction.” Colin’s tone was relaxed, just a sprinkle of mocking mixed into it. But Penelope could feel the tension in him, the protective edge that mirrored her own.

Cavender’s gaze shifted back to Colin, his rage appearing a bit more controlled as they listened to the snickering that surrounded them. Slowly, his mouth thinned into a tight line, and he took a step closer to the couple. By instinct, Colin angled himself in front of Penelope as her grip on his hand tightened.

He was just a few feet away from them when he finally spoke, a voice so low that it was barely audible over the murmurs. “And I’d recommend that you consider taking yourself and that bitch of a wife,” his eyes darted to Penelope for a moment, “out of town.”

And it was this comment that wiped the smile completely off of Colin’s face, along with any attempt of levity.

It was as if a chill had passed over, one that was both icy and burning at the same time. He stiffened like a board, a wave of unmistakable anger coming over him. And when his words came, they were low and even, colder than anyone had ever thought possible from Colin Bridgerton.

“You would do well to avoid threatening my family, Cavender.”

Though there was a slight tinge of red on his face, Phillip Cavender did not retreat. Instead, he took another step forward. “And why is that, Bridgerton?”

Penelope could see the muscles in Colin’s jaw moving from where she was angled, could practically feel the heat radiating off of his body. She’d seen him angry before, furious even, but this was different. This was so much more.

She wasn’t frightened, not by Colin nor by the man standing across from them. Fright was not why she wanted this to stop.

She didn’t want her husband’s anger to be made into a form of entertainment at a party. For him to have to serve the role of gallant protector whenever she upset someone. So, she attempted to silently will him to calm down, running a featherlight thumb across the surface of his hand.

But Colin wanted to finish what they’d started and instead let go of her and took his own step forward, almost shielding her completely.

“I think we all know that I have more than enough relatives to run you out of town,” he said, eyes locked on Cavender.

There was a flash of worry that crossed his face, but it was quickly forced away by a snort. “Is that meant to scare me? The threat of a duke and a viscount?”

Colin didn’t falter. Instead, his head tilted as he considered the man, considered the shaking fingers and the smell of alcohol on his breath. He’d never been a violent man by nature, even having grown up with two older brothers. He preferred words when he fought, and they almost always gave him his victories. He wasn’t opposed to physical repercussions, but he knew that a private gathering was not the place or time.

He looked Cavender directly in the eyes, speaking in a low, clear voice. “I will ensure that you are ruined, that is a promise.”

And because he couldn’t help himself, “And if that is not enough, be rest assured that we will do worse. My only qualm in doing it myself is that my brother would be disappointed he wasn’t able to help.”

There was a silence in the room that followed as Cavender glowered at him. His eyes darkened in fury as his face reddened, trying to figure out how far Colin could really go.

But there was something in Colin’s threat that didn’t allow for any consideration that he might have been exaggerating. Perhaps it was the definitive and resolute tone in his voice, or the strength behind his gaze, or the tight set of his jaw.

Or perhaps it was because Colin Bridgerton wasn’t the type to quicken to anger. Wasn’t the type to have a temper or even hint at unpleasantry.

Whatever it was, it made Cavender finally break eye contact and step back. He turned away, taking another large swig of port.

Colin could hear the pounding in his ears as he looked at the pathetic man, anger still coursing through him. But then he felt a warm hand lace through his, and the red glare of the world began melting away. Penelope was whispering something, her voice calm and soothing. He squeezed her hand in understanding but kept his gaze on Cavender.

There was a familiar casualness when Colin spoke this time, but it was threaded with venom. “Do not forget what I’ve said.”

And with that, he turned to his wife and pressed a kiss into her hair.

“Good night,” Penelope nodded to the remainder of the crowd, who finally had the decency to look away.

A few minutes later, when they were finally in a carriage returning to their home, Penelope sighed. With her eyes glued to her skirts, she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Colin.”

He looked at her thoughtfully, taking in a deep inhale of breath.

He’d been scared after the reveal of her identity, terrified even. There were evenings where he’d lie awake in bed and imagine all of the awful things that could happen to the person who was his entire world. And though they never spoke of such worries aloud, he knew that she was just as aware as he was.

Italy had been like taking a deep breath after being underwater for too long. There, no one cared or knew, and the only threat they faced was the harsh sun.

And then Penelope was pregnant, and a new light was added to his life, one that shifted his fears elsewhere.

Then they became a family of three, and Colin was thrilled. He still worried, of course, but his joy outweighed everything else.

Old wounds had been reopened in the recent weeks, that was for certain. But it did not mean that he blamed Penelope for them.

So, Colin pulled her into his side and tucked her head under his chin. “You have nothing to apologize for. We both agreed that you did the right thing.”

For a few moments, she said nothing, just listened to the sound of his heartbeat and the wheels on cobblestones. And though he couldn’t see her, Colin could sense in the silence that she was crying. Wordlessly, he handed her a handkerchief.

Penelope dabbed at her eyes a few times before leaning back to look at him. “I didn’t want to force you into this position.”

He smiled and lifted a hand to stroke her cheek, feeling the familiar warmth of her skin. “I watch you every day with nothing but awe, Penelope. I love you, I’m proud of you. And I will gladly stand by you through anything.”

Her eyes moved slowly as they crossed his face, searching for any hesitance. There was none, not even a hint of resistance.

Instead, there was so much love that it overwhelmed her, struck her with the same shock that it had years before. It was a love that mirrored her own, a fierce desire to protect and support another with as much reverence as one did for themself. It was one that never faltered even in the most difficult of times.

Her eyes were glossy when her hand reached up to meet his, and the smile on her lips was weak but true. “I love you so much. And I can’t believe that I’ve become so lucky in my life to have you by my side.”

And with that, they settled into their drive home, sharing whispered conversations and watery chuckles.

They still had a long road ahead of them, of that they were sure. But they knew that they would cross it together.

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liss-99 · 3 years

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On the subject....

Enchanted just SCREAMS benophie, so you should do this one too 💕

Sophie Beckett had never been one to believe in fairytales; they were impractical and unrealistic. Fairytales required fate to be on one’s side, and when one was a servant, that was unlikely. And, when one was a servant to Mr. Phillip Cavender, good fate was nowhere to be found.

So, Sophie spent her nights forcing laughter and faking smiles, in the same old tired, lonely place she had been for years. She was technically employed by his parents, and he left her alone enough. But, when he started drinking, or when he was around his friends who only encouraged pompous behavior, Mr. Cavender was a nightmare to deal with, the complete opposite of a fairytale.

On this particular night, Sophie found herself in an alarming situation she was unsure how she would get out of. Other maids had mentioned that this happened sometimes, that the men they worked for would use their status and powerful bodies to overtake theirs. The other maids told her there was nothing she could do except let it happen, and hope a baby didn’t come out of it. What a fairytale life she was living.

But then, before anything could even happen, he appeared, like a phantom hiding in a dark room. His face was the only one she’d pictured for years. She knew he wouldn’t recognize her, but immediately, the walls of insincerity she put up due to Cavender came down. Her shifting eyes and vacancy for life vanished. Seeing him was enchanting, just as it had been the first time, the night, the only night of her life, that felt like a fairytale.

Later, after his valiant rescue, as they rode to His Cottage together, she could sense his curiosity, could hear his brain thinking, could see his eyes seem to whisper ‘have we met?” She hoped he wouldn’t realize; she did not want to see the disappointment when he learned who she was.

Those days, spent together at His Cottage, Sophie started to feel like fate would not always be her enemy. Benedict was kind to her, something so few people had ever been. In that short time, they seemed to forge a beautiful friendship. In the early mornings, as the sun rose, and in the dusk of evening, when it set, she started to believe in fairytales. Across the room, his silhouette would make its way to her; playful conversation would start. Somehow, she countered all of his quick remarks with ones of her own, as if they were passing notes in secrecy. His dazzling eyes were magnetic, and his soul was even better. Sophie could think of very little other than how enchanting it was to have met him, and even more so, how enchanted she was to have met him a second time.

As he began to take over her brain, the night seemed to sparkle. She felt wonderstruck, and could practically feel the pink blush rise in her cheeks. In her nights at His Cottage, Sophie barely slept, she laid wide awake in wonder. A lingering question kept her up at two a.m., who did he love? The lady in silver, that was who.

Benedict was in love with her, but not her. A version of her that didn’t exist, who could never exist. That was who he loved, not the version of her that was pacing back and forth, wishing he was at her door. If he loved that version of her, she would open up her door, and he would say ‘hey,’ as if it was the loudest declaration of love to exist.

But that was a fairytale, and she didn’t believe in those. Well, she didn’t completely believe in them. In fairytales, she knew that wishes and prayers came true, so she bowed her head and prayed. Silently, she pled to whatever god was listening that this was the very first page, those past few days with Benedict, not where the storyline ended. She knew her thoughts would echo his name, unable to bear the idea of not hearing it ever again.

Before trying to sleep, she whispered two final pleas out into the world, hoping that if fairytales did exist, she would be granted even just a smidgen of one.

“Please don’t be in love with someone else, please don’t have somebody waiting on you.”

She could live with him being in love with the lady in silver; but if there was someone else, a tangible, beautiful someone else? Sophie couldn’t bear it.

She was simply too enchanted by him to even fathom that perhaps his heart belonged to someone else.

The very next day, it seemed as if her prayers had been answered. Their meeting by the lake, the stolen kisses and touches, the rushed journey to London, the intimacy and vulnerability, the realizations and recognition, the betrayal and heartache, the rescue, his proposal, their marriage...it all seemed to Sophie to be part of some grand love story.

Sophie Beckett had never been one to believe in fairytales; they were impractical and unrealistic. But Sophie Bridgerton? The gold band on her left hand was proof enough that fairytales did exist, that love prevailed, and that the most enchanting of encounters were moments of fate.

Taylor Swift Bridgerton One-Shots

man this song is perfect for them holy shit

#sophie beckett #benedict bridgerton #benophie #sophie x benedict #benedict x sophie #taylor swift #enchanted #bridgerswift #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction

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liss-99 · 3 years

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I'm sorry I had to : 93 × no body no crime

I'm so excited what you do for this :))

I cannot even tell you the reaction I had when I saw this prompt. This might be my favorite one yet. I hid it below the line because I love it that much!

TW: murder and violence, obviously

It was a secret she would take with her to the grave.

Kate Sharma and Sophie Beckett became best friends during their first year of college. They were both averse to popularity and the social scene, electing instead to carve their own paths in life. Kate wished to become a social worker while Sophie had dreams of being an elementary school teacher. Their first meeting was in a freshman child psychology course, and the rest, as people often said, was history.

They were there for each other through all of the life moments; their undergraduate and graduate programs, getting that first job, boyfriends, drunken nights, vacations, weekend hikes, vintage clothing shopping on rainy days, living together, everything.

Sophie met a man eventually, Phillip Cavender. They married after only six months together, Sophie had been completely captured by him. He was from old money and he knew it, and while Kate didn’t particularly like him, she loved her friend, so she did her best to be supportive. Cavender never seemed to realize how great of a person Sophie was, and the veneer of their marriage quickly cracked.

Both having busy lives and full-time jobs, the women didn’t get to see each other as often as they both would have liked. But, they did have a ritual, ensuring they got to catch up with each other.

Every Tuesday, they would meet up at the local Olive Garden, their favorite chain restaurant since college, for dinner and a glass of wine, Chardonnay for Kate and Pinot Noir for Sophie. They usually chatted about work, romance, the latest news, whatever was on their minds. But this night, when Sophie arrived she looked more stressed out than Kate had ever seen her. Their wine had already arrived, the staff had come to learn the routine, so Sophie took a huge sip of hers and sighed as she sat down.

“What’s the matter?” Kate asked, concerned about her best friend. Sophie looked as if she hadn’t been sleeping.

“It’s Phil,” Sophie sighed. “He’s been acting different, and I don’t have any proof, but it smells like infidelity to me.”

“You think he’s cheating on you?”

“All I know is he tastes like merlot whenever we kiss,” Sophie replied, “and we don’t drink merlot.”

Kate crossed her arms, waiting for more.

“I was going through our joint account yesterday, you know, just for maintenance, to make sure everything was in order.”

“And?”

“There was a $1200 charge for Tiffany’s from three weeks ago. He hasn’t given me any jewelry since he proposed.”

“That bastard,” Kate exclaimed. “He’s absolutely cheating.”

“No there ain’t no doubt about it. I want to call him out.”

Sophie’s jaw clenched, which didn’t go unnoticed by Kate.

“I think he did it but I just can’t prove it. A few undiscussed charges and the taste of wine aren’t enough to accuse my husband of cheating.

“Ah, corpus delicti,” Kate sighed, sitting back in her chair. “No body, no crime.”

“Exactly. Without any proof, I don’t have grounds for divorce or he’ll ruin me. I think he did it, but I need proof. Even if it takes me until the day I die, I won’t let up.”

Kate raised her glass to cheers with Sophie, silently celebrating that her best friend would hopefully soon be rid of her scummy husband.

Sophie wasn’t there Tuesday night at Olive Garden, at her job, or anywhere. It had been a few weeks since her revelation to Kate that she wanted to leave her husband.

They’d canceled the previous week, with Sophie texting

“Sorry, talking to Phil tn. Can’t make it to dinner. See you next week?”

And that was the last time Kate had heard from Sophie. It was unlike Sophie to be non-communicative, especially with her. When Cavender reported Sophie as missing the next day, Kate immediately grew suspicious. The police launched a full investigation, but Sophie was nowhere to be found. They deemed her a missing person.

Kate drove by Sophie’s house one night, and in the driveway, she noticed something peculiar. Cavender’s truck had some brand new tires. Sophie had always been complaining that he wouldn’t get new ones even though the truck desperately needed them. Cavender always complained it was a rip-off, which was rich coming from someone as wealthy as he was. But now, all Kate could see were the shiny new tires. Also of interest was the way in which one Cressida Cowper had begun taking residence in Cavender’s house. It made a lot of sense when Kate thought about it, of course Cressida was his mistress. Kate had no doubts that Cressida probably slept in Sophie’s bed and everything as if Sophie had never even existed.

Like a lightning bolt, it all clicked for Kate. The Cavender family was proud of their name, and nothing would ruin them more than a divorce less than a year after marriage. Sophie had told Kate the morning of her last text that she finally felt like she had enough evidence to confront Cavender about the cheating. Putting 2 and 2 together, Kate determined Cavender had done something to Sophie.

He was a cruel man, and Kate was almost positive he abused Sophie throughout their marriage. But Sophie had been careful to hide any signs of mistreatment, so Kate had never been sure. But, without a doubt, Kate was positive Cavender had murdered Sophie, most likely because she accused him of an affair.

The police, lousy pigs that they were, had quickly given up searching for Sophie, and without a body, there was no crime. Kate wouldn’t be able to prove that Cavender had murdered his wife, but she could enact revenge.

It really was quite an easy decision. The world would be a better place without Phillip Cavender, and if justice wasn’t going to be given for Sophie’s death, Kate would take it herself.

On the night she decided it would happen, Kate pulled her old handgun, dusty, covered in cobwebs, and placed it in her bag. She drove out of town, to Cavender’s mansion nestled on the edge of the woods, near a big lake. Kate knew Cressida was gone; the woman was a pharmaceutical sales rep and she was often on ‘business trips.’

Kate knocked on the door, and the look of surprise on Cavender’s face when he answered was almost retribution enough.

“Kate, how can I help you?” He was cold to her, suspicious.

“I just wanted to check in, see how you are doing with Sophie’s disappearance.”

“Oh, of course, come in,” he turned, and Kate knew he wanted nothing less than for her to come in.

With his back turned, she pulled the gun out of her bag and aimed it directly at his head. When he turned back around to feign conversation with her, his breath immediately hitched.

“Kate, what the hell are you doing?”

“I know Sophie is dead, and that you’re the one who killed her.”

“You have no proof,” he laughed smugly.

“I don’t care. It’s the only explanation.”

“Okay? So you’re going to shoot me? That’s going to go over really well for you, if anything, it’ll just make it look like you’re the one who killed Sophie, even though, yeah, of course I was the one who did it. You really think I was about to let her accuse me of cheating and ruin my family? Think carefully about what you do next, Kate.”

Kate was stone-cold, unflinching, and she could see the terror behind his smirk.

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m sure I’ll manage,” she said smoothly before she fired the gun.

The look on Cavender’s face as he slumped over was one of complete disbelief as if it was the first time he would face consequences for his actions.

When she was 15, Kate’s dad had made her and her younger sister Edwina get boating licenses. He believed it was important to know how to operate all kinds of moving vehicles, ‘just in case.’

Kate was grateful for her father’s thinking as she dragged Cavender, wrapped up in a plastic bag, out back to his dock. She heaved his body into the boat, before boating out to the middle of the slimly inhabited lake. It was pitch black outside, and she’d cut the lights on the boat; no one would ever know she was there. With carefully gloved hands, a trick she knew from her crime podcasts and tv shows, she pushed Cavender over the side of the boat, and listened to the glorious sound of him sinking.

Later, she meticulously cleaned the house, removing any signs of a murder. She cleaned enough houses throughout her life to know how to cover up a scene.

The next morning, she sent Posy, Sophie’s stepsister, a text.

“If anyone asks, swear you were with me last night?”

“I swear it.”

Kate wasn’t the only one who disliked Cavender; Kate knew Posy would say whatever to protect her.

Several days later, when it became public knowledge that Phillip Cavender was missing, news quickly spread of the big life insurance policy Cressida Cowper had taken out just a week prior. Kate hadn’t known this prior to the act, but it made things all the better for her.

Everyone assumed Cressida had axed Cavender, in hopes of a large sum of money, but with no body, there was no crime, and they just couldn’t prove it.

Kate was pretty sure Cressida knew what she had done, the way they locked eyes on each other in the town center. Cressida had flames in her eyes when she looked at Kate, but she would never be able to prove it.

So, the disappearances of Sophie Beckett and Phillip Cavender were never solved; Kate Sharma was the only one to ever know the truth.

It was a secret she would take with her to the grave.

Taylor Swift Bridgerton One-Shots

#kate sharma #kate sheffield #sophie beckett #taylor swift #no body no crime #bridgerswift #bridgerton #sophie kate and taylor are the trifecta of badass women #bridgerton fanfiction #one-shots

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