"Hope Buckingham: The Natural Muse."
[25]
✑
It was a bit unusual of me to sneak into somewhere uninvited. I'm usually the kind of person to sneak out of somewhere. But still, here I was, walking through the halls of the academy. It looked utterly captivating, the walls were made out of marble and you could see men sketching on their canvas. This academy was alive.
I walked through the halls and I straightened up the red silk robe on my shoulders, which covered the corset I had worn. I spotted a room not too far from where I was so I quickly scurried inside, I suddenly saw a woman with curly brunette hair and a soft green dress sketching onto a canvas. I cleared my throat, which made her turn to look at me.
The way her jaw was structured was strong but her soft green eyes completely made up for it. She looked at me with confusion. "Pardon me, but do you know a man named Benedict Bridgerton?" She asked, her eyes trailed behind me. "Benedict, someone is requesting your presence." She said, making me turn around to see Benedict standing there, satchel in hand.
He smiled softly. "Hope, how on Earth did you get in here?" He asked as he went over towards his set up of a canvas and chair, he sat down his bag and walked up to me. "Well, I wore the appropriate attire for a muse and the men didn't know any better." I said, making him chuckle a little, and shake his head.
"Of course they did." Benedict mumbled.
"Surprisingly this organization was founded by two women, but we are still not yet to enter the classroom. At least, not while we are clothed." The woman behind us said which made me turn to look at her. From what she was sketching she was an incredible artist. Benedict hums before walking around me and towards the woman, they seem to be quite familiar with one another, given how Benedict looks at her.
"So you work as a model as a way of learning from the lectures? Ingenious." He said, quite clearly flirting. But, I thought he was courting my sister. Well, I guess the Duchess was right. Benedict was indeed a rake, capital R rake. I crossed my arms. "Care to take a turn?" The woman offered, I immediately grin. "Oh, what fun that will be." I said, making his eyes land on me.
"You will finally be in the shoes of a muse, and feel how terrifying it is." I said, the woman glanced over at me with furrowed eyebrows. "You have modeled before?" She asks. I nodded my head, thinking about the night I finally felt unburdened of insecurities. "Indeed. It is harder than it looks, Benedict." I warned him. He hummed and turned his nose up, accepting the challenge. He took a deep breath before stepping up onto the platform in the middle of the room before immediately sitting down, resting his forehead on his hand, posing.
"Like so?" He said playfully, causing me to chuckle. I shook my head before uncrossing my arms. "No." I said before I walked up towards the platform and took a step up onto to it. I examined his pose before I tilted my head in thought. I grabbed the hand his forehead was resting upon and I rested it on his knees. Which then gave me access to his broad shoulders, I pushed his body back so he was sitting up completely straight. He moved almost like a porcelain doll.
I adjusted his hands once more before I took my pointer, middle, and thumb finger and softly grabbed his chin and tilted his face up to look at me. His eyes trailed up to look at me.
The way he looked at me caused me to breath in sharply, but I do not why. Something bellowed in my belly which caused me to quickly take my hand off his chin and turn back around. I walked back over to the woman who now sat with a sketchbook in hand. I stood next to her and watched as Benedict strained to keep his posture. He sighed deeply.
"How long must I stay like this?" He asked.
"That depends. What I really need is a study of the male form." She said, which caused Benedict's eyebrows to furrow. "A naked form." She finishes with a smirk. My eyes flared open and I glanced between them both, whose eyes screamed sexual tension. I was certainly disturbing something indeed. "What say you?" She says. Was I about to witness my best friend unburden himself?
Benedict stood to his feet with a smirk and I watched as he took off the grey vest he wore, he threw it down onto the ground with a thud. Did he not realize I was standing here? I held in a breath as he snatched the suspenders off his shoulders. My mouth went agape before he suddenly pulled off the white button-up he wore, as soon as my eyes looked at the freckles on his naked chest my eyes flew open and I turned around and began walking out of the room.
"I shall take my leave!" I announced before I walked into the hallway and quickly found a private corner and leaned against the wall. My breathing was harsh and I quickly pulled out a creme fan from my dress pocket and quickly fanned myself. If flushed was the word you would describe my pink face then yes, I was indeed flushed. Imagine being in the middle of two people wanting to rip each other's clothes off.
I did not know if I wanted to take my leave or stay. I came here to promenade with Benedict but I suppose he has better things on his mind. My breathing slowed at the realization. Everyone in our family seemed to have motivations of their own, but... what was my own? What did I strive for? Love? Travel? Education?
What did I desire?
✑
This was the night that the Sheffields--Edwina's grandparents--would visit the Bridgerton household for dinner. And there was a secret bubbling through the Sharma family that would surely come out now.
But, Hope decided that she would promenade by herself... with a glass of whiskey. Well, 4 glasses in, and the world seemed to spin around her and she didn't know if it would stop. She sat lazily in Anthony's armchair, stationed in his study, gulping down another cup of whiskey.
I'd say she's hit a bit of an existential crisis. She was trying to find her purpose, and apparently, her purpose was at the bottom of the glass she was drinking from.
She placed the empty cup down onto the desk and grabbed the near empty bottle of whiskey and poured the rest of the alcohol in her cup. She suddenly heard the door of Anthony's study opening, and incoming Benedict. His eyes scanned the room once before his eyes landed on Hope, cheeks pink from being drunk,
"Hope... you are—."
"Drunk? Yes, I can see that." She said as she sipped the whiskey, the liquid kicked back, causing her throat to burn. "What's the occasion?" Benedict said as he closed the door behind him. He walked up to the desk she was sitting at with a curious expression.
"None." She said, placing down the glass cup before arising from her seat, nearly losing her balance. Benedict looked at Hope with an amused smile. "I've never seen you this drunken ever since you had your first cup of gin when you were ten and eight." He said, watching her go around the desk she was once sat at.
"Well, now it is my turn to drown my sorrows in a cup of liquor." Hope said near sluggishly. She stood nearly four feet away from Benedict and he could tell she was trying everything in her power to remain upright. "Sorrows? So is that the celebration? And what sorrows do you have to drown, dearest?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.
Dearest?
Hope hummed. "It is the same old thing. Or perhaps it is a new thing, I do not know. I cannot keep up with my list of grievances. First it is my lack of a husband, then it is a want not to have a husband. Then it is my father and so on..." She looked back over at the desk she was once at and trailed her fingers across the dark wood. "Am I meant to grant to desire? Lust?"
Her eyes trailed towards Benedict's still confused as ever face. "Am I meant to make men happy? Is that my purpose? Do I need to make stomachs churn in order to gain eyes on me?" She spoke softly, the crackle from the fire not too far from them sparked and flickered. "You cannot help that you are beautiful. Your purpose shouldn't be about lust or carnal desire..." Benedict said before seeing a tiny smirk—or even a smile—grace upon her lips.
"But you do not understand, ever since I began attending those parties you invited me to that is where my life was destined to be lustful. I... learned many things." She began to nearly whisper. As Benedict listened in he swore he saw Hope's demeanor change, her drunken body began to step slowly towards him.
"Do you know all the ways a man can be seduced? The things I've taught myself..." She said as she was finally centimeters in front of the second born Bridgerton. Her body grew warm as she felt the alcohol in her system spread throughout her body. Benedict's confused expression turned soft.
This was foreign of them to be this close when the air was so thin around them.
Benedict somehow needed to breath in sharply in order to survive the situation he was currently in. He rose an eyebrow at her. "Are you playing a game on me?" He asked, breaking the barrier of silence there once was. "I love that you see that." She answered. Benedict smirked and he glanced around at her face.
"You witch." He commented. This situation could be taken a many of different ways. Was this a harmless situation where a drunken Hope was trying to get a reaction out of Benedict Bridgerton? Or was this drunken woman trying to seduce the second born as a fun little game of hers?
Benedict's mind ran, how was he supposed to feel? Flattered? Moved that drunken Hope would try to take a piece out of him? Or... rather... turned on? Why? Maybe it is because Benedict doesn't have any real morals when it comes to pretty women flirting with him.
"Are you... trying to seduce me?" He asked shamelessly. An amused smiled worked its way on Hope's face before she chuckled softly. "No." She said before beginning to walk past Benedict, his eyebrows furrowed before he turned around and grabbed Hope's forearm.
"We are not finished with our conversation, dear Hope." He said, making her turn around and face him. She nearly fell before Benedict was quick to catch her, grabbing ahold of her waist. He had nearly forgotten she was intoxicated, now that showed reason as to why she was just acting the way she was.
"Alright off to bed, you go. You've had too much to drink." He said. Hope hummed sluggishly before shaking her head. "I am not in need of your coddling, and I am not in need of sleep." She protested as she looked up at Benedict. He began to carry her bridal style before he took her out of Anthony's study and through the dimly lit halls.
The alcohol in Hope's system did nothing in the strength department because she remained weak in Benedict's arms. Cursed whiskey.
They made their way into Hope's bedchambers and Benedict made haste and placed her onto her bed gently. He did not need to take off any dress or corset given that she was already wearing her nightgown. Hope breathed in sharply.
"I do not need sleep, Benedict." She said, nearly sitting up in bed but inevitably fell back. Benedict chuckled. "Yes you indeed do, stop acting stubborn." He said, before Hope scoffed.
"If you stay in bed, I'll remain with you." He bargained with the drunken woman, who sighed in defeat. Benedict grinned in victory before he took off his tail coat and dress shirt, revealing his freckled chest. He finally climbed into bed with Hope, her eyes lazily opened and closed.
He got under the duvet with her and laid beside her, looking directly at her as she did him. Their lips remained shut and the air around them thinned once more like it did in the study. Hope's eyes scanned Benedict's melancholic face, she began to move towards him until their noses touched.
Hope didn't move, realizing that this was a comfortable position for her. Meanwhile Benedict could feel his heart in his fingertips, he could smell the waft of vanilla coming from her skin and hair. He swallowed dryly, feeling Hope's eyes dig into him. He could feel the room getting warmer around them, and his mind raced with a many different thoughts.
Should he feel this unsettled and nervous over a woman he's only ever thought of as a friend? What would the rest of the world think? Second born Benedict Bridgerton ruins Ms. Buckingham's honor, scandalous indeed.
Benedict nibbled onto his bottom lip, making Hope's eyes flicker down. They could feel each others breaths on ones lips. The tension was incredibly thick and the two of them had lost the ability to breath properly. Was this feeling in the air always there, ready to fight its way out? And is this the night that those bursting feelings would find a way out?
They would never... would they?
"I think it might be wise if I retire for the night." Benedict said snapping the tension in half. He was a smart lad, he knew that if he ever pursued Hope in such a matter, especially while intoxicated, he could never forgive himself.
He wanted the best for her, and the best wasn't him.
Hope nodded sluggishly. "I suppose you are right." She said with a warm smile. Hope snuggled her face into the duvet and Benedict waited only minutes to hear her breath shift, telling him that she had fallen asleep for the night.