The Muse // Benedict Bridgerton

The Blue Drawing Room

"You should go back upstairs with Ellie, Luce. You wouldn't want him to see you." Henry said.

"What do you mean? Oh, dear god, Henry- why did he do this?" Lucy said. She was still in shock. Her father had certainly become more angry since their mother had become ill but he had never laid a hand on anyone, as far as she knew.

"It's not the first time, Lucy. Please, just go upstairs before he does the same to you. And he will if he sees you." Henry pleaded.

She sat there for a couple of seconds, staring at her brother in disbelief. He had a distant but pained look on his face, and pinched his nose at the bridge in an attempt to make the blood stop pouring out.

Sitting in the dining room that morning, she saw that same look on his face but more mild. She decided not to press him on the issue, as it would probably only upset or annoy him. Instead, she casually mentioned that she was heading over to the Bridgerton's house at around luncheon to spend some much-needed quality time with the friends she hadn't seen in the past year. Yes, it was a slight embellishment of the truth, but she couldn't very well tell her family that she was going over simply to awe at a certain Bridgerton brother. Awe? No, she wasn't going to awe at him. Where did that come from? She was simply going over to admire and talk about his artwork, since he practically invited her to do so.

Breakfast was followed by a stroll in the gardens, admiring the season's new blooms, a lemonade at the sitting area outside with her sister, and then a quick practice at the pianoforte. Lucy realized that she filled her morning with activities to make time fly by faster so that she could finally make her way over to the Bridgerton's house. When the clock finally struck an acceptable hour to pay a luncheon visit, she eagerly made her way out of Blackthorne Hall with her Lady's maid Jane and strolled over to her neighbors. Before she could even bring her hand up to knock on the door, it opened wide revealing the Bridgerton's butler.

"My Lady," he said as he moved aside to let her in.

"It's lovely to see you again" Lucy replied.

"I should say the same to you, My Lady" He responded.

"I'm afraid the house is empty today, except for Mr. Bridgerton" he added.

"Oh. By Mr. Bridgerton... you mean?" Lucy asked, hopeful.

"Mr. Benedict Bridgerton" he replied.

"Ah. Well, I would not mind waiting in the drawing room for the girls. You should let Mr. Bridgerton know of my arrival, though. I wouldn't want to impose." Lucy said.

"Of course My Lady. I shall return with refreshments." He said as he showed her to the drawing room and left her to her own devices.

The room was a beautiful and calming shade of blue, and the young Blackthorne found a seat and made herself comfortable near a window with a view of the street lined with large cherry blossom trees. The butler returned shortly after with tea and biscuits, as well as some pastries- it seemed enough for five people let alone one.

After about fifteen minutes of sipping her tea and eating a few of the jam-filled treats, Lucy heard someone shuffling in the hall outside the drawing room. She also heard a frantic scramble of what sounded like papers, before the door opened to reveal Benedict. He seemed as though he was disheveled, internally and externally, but was trying to hold it together for the sake of propriety.

"My Lady," he said, greeting her with a short bow and a slightly too wide smile.

"Mr. Bridgerton," Lucy replied, reciprocating the grin. His cheeks were flushed a light pink color, she noticed, like he was having a busier morning than usual. His hair was also slightly messy and his shirt was not done up properly, which was an altogether rather endearing sight. Lucy found that she disliked men who were always formal and proper, even while they were in their own homes. Yes, Benedict was always like this but at that moment in time, it was far more charming. He approached her and they both sat down.

"Forgive me but this is quite strange for me, Lucy. I have never really shown anyone my work." He said as he ran his hand through his hair without thought. It seemed as though it may be a nervous habit of his, messing up his hair.

"You do not have to show me anything if you do not want to, Benedict, I'm just here for the company- to catch up," Lucy replied.

"No, I do. I just... hope you like them, is all." He said in response.

"I am quite sure I will," Lucy answered with a soft smile. With that, he nodded and placed his work on the table nearest to Lucy, free for her to go through at her own will, and stepped back. She leaned forward and carefully examined each piece that he laid out for her to see. Lucy was even more stunned than she expected herself to be. The paintings he had brought were mainly landscapes, and they were as breathtaking as could be. The neutral tones along with the light greens and blues blended beautifully, with the perfect mixture of impressionism and romanticism. The portraits, on the other hand, were quite possibly the most beautiful ones she had ever seen in her life. Although they were unfinished, that's what made them alluring- the undivulged sense of what is and what could be. The rough work of charcoal against the pages, highlighting the features of the people he had drawn, provided an atmosphere of darkness and intrigue.

"These are incredible, Benedict. I truly have no words to describe how they make me feel." Lucy stated.

"I think those words perhaps describe how you feel anyway." He replied with a grin.

"I suppose they do," she responded, smiling.

"Why have you not done any more portraits? You are so well at capturing the likeness of people" Lucy asked.

"I do not know. I presume it is because I lack inspiration on that front." He replied nonchalantly.

"However, I do quite like this one," He began. In a swift motion, he stood up from his seat across from Lucy and sat next to her. Then, he rummaged through the pile and pulled out a portrait of Daphne.

"She sat for hours while I practiced. She really did not have to do that but she did anyway out of kindness. It's the best one I've done." He said as he enthusiastically showed her the drawing. Only then did he realize how close the two of them were, and he appeared to instantly regret not taking more notice of his movements, especially in the presence of a lady. The pair locked eyes for a brief moment, and Lucy felt that familiar flutter in her chest, although this time it was going at an even faster speed. All of a sudden they were both extremely aware of the speed and sound of each other's breathing, as it was the only sound that filled the room. That is, until Benedict broke the silence.

"Lucy," he said, softly and quietly.

"Yes?" She replied, in a daze.

A couple of seconds later, the magical moment was over when Benedict snapped back to reality and broke eye contact. He stood up once more while clearing his throat, and sat back down in his seat across from her.

"I'm pleased you like them" he stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Of course I do. You could practice with me, you know," She replied sweetly, trying to forget the little moment they had just shared.

"Wha-oh, you mean, you would sit for a portrait?" He asked, his cheeks still a pink shade.

"Yes, if you ever need to work on those skills, I would be happy to help," Lucy responded. He thanked her and shot her another one of his smiles.

"I should probably be leaving, though. I am supposed to meet a friend at my gentlemen's club in a short while. I shall see you soon, My Lady" he said and waited for her to stand, so he could do the same. He gathered his belongings that they had been looking through together and folded them underneath his arm. With a quick bow and goodbye, he was out the door and Lucy was left alone in the Bridgerton's drawing room, completely baffled as to what had just occurred between the two of them. She couldn't help but think that she had done or said something to offend him, judging by his rather abrupt exit. She thought they would be able to spend more time together- thought that he would keep her company until his sisters returned home. It was what she was looking forward to. Although the brief moment was sweet, she was once again left wanting more. She wanted more, but did not know what exactly it was that she wanted from the boy.