[2] The Duchess of Kent and Strathearn | B. Bridgerton

Chapter 7

"Yes! Oh, I'd love that," she grinned. "But before we get into that, I just received word from Kensington Palace."

"Must we respond now?" He groaned.

"If it is a letter from the palace, yes, we must, my love. As soon as possible," she lightly smirked. "A man that goes by the name of Thomas Ward wishes for us to decide our child's six godparents and send back word of our choices as soon as possible."

"Six?" His eyes grew wide.

"Usually the godparents are chosen to maintain familial connections and diplomatic ties within European royal circles," his wife explained, and sighed. "Unfortunately, we have also been sent a list of people eligible to be our child's godparents."

"Bloody hell," Benedict sighed. "Who have they suggested?"

"It does not matter," his wife assured him. "We have the final say... I'd say at least for four of them."

"We do?" He questioned, but then chuckled when his wife glared at him. "Fine. Of course George and Anthony should be godfathers."

"I agree to both," she nodded and wrote it down. "May I suggest we add the third godfather related to a diplomatic alliance? To keep the lords happy, of course."

"Alright," he chuckled. "As for the godmothers... How about my sister?"

"Daphne? Of course. I thought of her too," she immediately wrote it down. "Who else do you suggest?"

"You are our child's mother, my angel," he smiled. "Who would you suggest?"

"Oh, my love," she sighed. "I'd say either Fatima, Lilia or Cora... But I know it would never be approved because of who they are."

"They are Ladies of the Bedchamber. They have literally devoted their lives to you," he scoffed. "It is so unfair."

"I know, my love. Unfortunately, it is," she looked down at the paper she was writing on. "So, we've got so far... The Prince Regent, the Viscount Bridgerton, and the Duchess of Hastings."

"I trust Tommy to appoint the right diplomatic godparents to our child," Benedict commented. "But we are still missing one godmother from our own choosing."

"Not anymore, for I have just thought of the perfect godmother as well," she looked up at him with a grin on her face. "The Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton."

Having meticulously inscribed his mother's name on the official list, she sensed the gentle descent of her husband, his lips tenderly meeting her forehead. Lifting her gaze, she found his affectionate eyes locking onto hers as he proceeded to place sweet kisses upon her cheek, then her nose, and finally, lingering on her lips. The quill, having dutifully served its purpose, found its resting place on the desk, momentarily forgotten.

As Benedict leaned in, her hands rose instinctively, delicately cupping his cheek, and what began as a simple peck evolved into a deeper, more intimate kiss. In that shared moment, the world outside their embrace ceased to exist, the only reality being the palpable connection they shared.

A faint whine, a charming interruption, resonated through the room. Benedict, attuned to the subtle nuances of their surroundings, pulled away with a playful peck on his wife's lips, eliciting a soft laughter that danced in the air. His giddy demeanor added a delightful touch to the scene, a testament to the joy and warmth encapsulated in their shared moments of intimacy.