Bridgerton Imagines

Spare Me A Moment? // B.B.

"(Y/N)!" Benedict calls, hurrying after her as she makes her way back to her quarters to dress for the dinner service. Jenkins, the Butler, would not be best pleased if she were to show up late.

"Mr. Bridgerton, how can I help you?" (Y/N) asks, curtseying to the second-born Bridgerton before eyeing the grandfather clock and noting the time.

"Spare me a moment of your time, please?"

"You should be getting ready for dinner. I know that Benjamin has laid out your clothes."

"I want to talk to you... only for a moment, I know you have jobs to attend to."

Smoothing down her apron, (Y/N) smiles softly at the brunette. "What would you like to talk about?"

"I thought it was obvious but perhaps not," Benedict murmurs to himself, practically ignoring her question.

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Bridgerton but I must be getting on."

"No!" He all but shouts, reaching for your hand, "Spare me another moment of your time... please."

She wavers as if caught between the berating she will no doubt receive from the Butler for being late to the dinner service or letting down her employer whom she stands in front of. After a moment's silence, her decision is made. "How can I help you, Mr. Bridgerton?" She repeats.

"Call me Benedict, please."

She shakes her head, "I'm afraid I cannot do that, Mr. Bridgerton. It would be improper."

Benedict hesitates; his hand still outstretched towards her as if desperate to feel her underneath his palms. "I've gone about this all wrong," He says, eyes sad.

"Pardon?"

"I've fallen in love with you," Benedict confesses, speaking plainly as if he hasn't changed her world in six words.

"What?" She gasps; propriety falling away from her for a moment as the words he uttered settle into her skin.

"I've fallen in love with you," Benedict repeats, voice firmer as he becomes surer of himself.

"How?" She asks, her face and voice puzzled, "I'm a housemaid, Mr. Bridgerton."

His eyebrows furrow as if such a thing shouldn't matter in their world. Yet it does – status is everything; titles are everything. A man who hails from a family such as the Bridgertons could not marry, let alone fall in love with one of the serving class. It simply didn't happen. There was the occasional affair, but (Y/N) knew herself well enough not to be reserved as a mistress – it was not her destiny. She was to marry for love.

"I don't know how it happened, but I find myself thinking of you every waking minute of the day. I find it hard not to stare at you when I see you completing your duties. At night, I long for it to be you lying next to me instead of the emptiness of the bed. I don't know how it happened, (Y/N). All I know is that I am in love with you. This is no farce or folly."

The words fall over her as rain would fall over grass. They soak into her skin, mould to her bones and become part of her in the span of mere seconds. Mere seconds, and her world has changed. As much as she longed to hear those words from his lips, this could not happen. Moving away from him, her chest aching with every step, she whispers her excuse to escape, "I'm sorry, Mr. Bridgerton, I need to get back downstairs."

Watching her walk away from him, Benedict feels something heavy settle in his chest, pressing his lungs down and making it difficult to breathe. The barriers between them were so entrenched into society, Benedict begins to worry that he has lost her before he every truly got to know her.