Masked Hearts: A Bridgerton Story

7. Recovery: Physical and Truth

*Happier- Vitamin String Quartet*

You made sure to lock the door behind you this time as the last time you were in here, the woman you swapped dresses with had only entered by pure chance as you had forgotten to lock the door previously.

You heard a dripping noise and looked to see if it was coming from the tap but it was off. Then you looked down to see a small puddle forming of your own blood. You were mortified. Where was the blood coming from?! You looked down the streak of blood on your dress and followed it up to the inside of your arm.

You felt like you were going to pass out. The sight of blood always did make you quite dizzy, you simply could not stand it. Suddenly you felt like you could not stand. You knew that you were not going to die but in the moment you were not sure.

You felt light headed. Your stomach was aching so badly and you were losing quite the amount of blood. Perhaps you needed to lay down, for just a moment....

If you were a little out of it, the powerful pounding on the door surely brought you back. You shook in terror. Did the man come back. Your eyes swelled with tears at the thought. Trying to keep your composure for you knew nothing good could come from crying.

"I know you're in there." It's Benedict.

"You cannot be here." You shout through the door, aware that your voice was not as strong as you had thought. "Are you hurt?" Benedict asks through the door, completely ignoring her previous statement.

"You must leave-- Lord Bridgerton" You insist, sliding down the bathroom wall that faced the door, pausing in the middle of your sentence from the pain as you did so. Your dress dragging on the floor in your blood has left quite the design on the tiles.

"I cannot. I cannot leave you again, please, Ms., Are you in pain?"

You knew if you didn't accept his help now, something actually could go wrong. You could get an infection of god knows what kind. With slow movements you made your way to the door and unlocked it slowly. Benedict was relieved. He didn't want to come on too strong, he just wanted to help.

He looked both ways, assuring the halls were clear which was likely as the event was over and the ton had gone home. He locked the door behind him and looked down to see you had already made your way back to the corner of the bathroom, sitting on the tiles that had been dripped on with blood.

A surge of panic washed through him. His eyes scanned your body and located the wound on your arm. Falling to his knees before you he ripped off the cuff of his sleeve and tied it around your arm. "My Lord-" You look up at him with worry for his clothing-- "It is only fabric. It can be replaced. I cannot say the same for an arm." You smiled.

He was glad to see you smile. He wanted to keep you distracted, the last thing he wanted was for you be in any more pain or discomfort. You watched in awe as he took some cold water and cleaned your wound without hesitation or disgust because you all you knew is you were close to passing out.

You couldn't stand to see the process. Your head had been turned for the majority of the time. "Does it disturb you?" He asks, your head still turned as he tended to you. "What?" You respond, still facing the wall beside you.

"Blood. Do you not like it?" The damp fabric hits a particularly sensitive spot and it causes you to wince, "Sorry." He apologizes. "Well, I wouldn't exactly say that I'm a fan of blood." You retort. "When I was younger I had a pet hare, and I used to take him with me everywhere-- Hey that rhymes." You point out and Benedict couldn't help but to laugh.

"You should consider being a poet sometime. I truly think it would come naturally to you." You turn your head back to face him for a moment, taking notice he was wrapping a newly ripped and dry piece of his cuff and wrapping it around your arm as a makeshift bandage.