𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒔 ❦ eloise bridgerton

𝐢 ❦ 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘

The woman scoffed. "Obviously, she does not know. But there is not much she could do about it if she did. She has accepted that I will not marry."

"So what's the story?" he said, folding his arms.

"You really want to know? It is truly pitiful."

"I sense that it is not so horrid as you make it out to be."

"Fine, then. My mama married for love."

"It always begins like that," Benedict said. The woman laughed.

"Well, she married a man who was not even a nobleman. I don't think your mama did that."

Benedict chuckled. "Touché."

The woman continued. "My mama never met hers. Her mother died giving birth to her. So my mama lived with her aunt all her life. When it came time to debut, she did not make a match during her first season, which was disgraceful for my great aunt, the daughter of a baron. In my mother's second season, her aunt decided to match my mama with an old earl to secure her future. But my mother had fallen in love with a shopkeeper in secret, so she eloped the night before her arranged wedding. Needless to say, my great aunt was furious.

Well, when my father passed and left behind a 13-year-old daughter and grieving widow, my great aunt opened up her frigid heart and took us in. Though she might never forgive my mama, I was her only child and all that was left of the family legacy. My aunt taught me etiquette and supplied me with pianoforte lessons, the standard for any young miss. She sponsored me for one season, then another, then another, to no avail. There was not one lord I would settle with, so she gave up on me. Now I am three-and-twenty and my mama hopes that I might still find a love match. I have disappointed her just as much as my great aunt."

Margot looked back at her canvas with a sad smile on her face, taking the brush and making a broad stroke over one part of the painting.

"How can you call yourself a disappointment when you are merely following your heart as your mother wants?" Benedict said.

"Oh, if she truly knew what was in my heart, I think hers would break a little."

Benedict examined her carefully, not knowing exactly what she meant. As he tried to decipher it, another thought came into his head.

"You remind me of my sister."

She gave him a disconcerted look. "I am afraid to know if that is a good or bad thing, Mr. Bridgerton."

"It is more good than bad," he said with a smile. "She is quite disillusioned with this society's expectations, far more than me if you can believe it. Perhaps you could show her what life is like for an unmarried woman."

"As a cautionary tale or an inspiring one?"

"That is entirely dependent on how you wish to frame it."

✦ 。⋆  ゜・✦ .

"I JUST REALIZED YOU NEVER told me your name," Benedict said when they were halfway to Grosvenor Square.

"And you never told me yours," she said back, "though I believe it is Benedict."

"Correct again. If you had not told me you were a lady of the ton, I might've believed you to be psychic."

"I have squandered an opportunity," she exclaimed dramatically. "But you are no psychic, I presume. Well, my name is Margot Blackwell."

"Are you aware you have paint on your face, Miss Blackwell?"

Margot smiled and wiped her cheek and chin forcefully in hopes of getting the oil paint off. Her efforts left a smudge some shades darker than her skin.