A/N: IM SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY but here she is!!!! this will prob be the last chapter unless people want something more BUT i am planning on having an alternate ending that will be published sometime in the future
August 16, 1814 -Y/I,
Meet me in the studio after dinner.
Yours, B
You stared at the creamy paper in your hands suspiciously for several moments. Your butler, Montgomery, had handed you the note as you went downstairs for breakfast, and you wondered why Benedict couldn't have delivered the note himself. It was barely a sentence, but that didn't stop you from analyzing every word, trying to decipher Benedict's intentions.
You couldn't help your mind from running away with the most unpleasant possibilities. What if this meeting held no significance? What if Benedict had other matters to discuss, leaving sentiments unspoken and issues unresolved? What if he wanted to return to the normalcy of the friendship you shared before the season started?
You didn't think you could bear it. At least not right now. Maybe a year from now, you would be able to return to normal. But right now, what you had with Benedict was so far from a normal friendship that you didn't think you could snap back to whatever you had before as quickly as he had left you all those weeks ago.
A day earlier, you might have resisted the urge to speak with Ben at all, clinging to the fragments of your wounded pride. However, last night's conversation with Alex had softened your resolve. Now, you found you could barely wait until tonight to speak with him, anxiously thinking over what he could possibly have planned.
---
Two hours later, you were fuming. After dinner? Was he serious? He'd been ignoring you for four days and he wanted you to wait another twelve hours? You were so distraught you hadn't even wanted to partake in the Pall Mall game happening outside at the moment, much to the displeasure of Hyacinth, who had been unable to convince either you or Benedict to join.
Currently, you were seated in the Bridgerton library reading the same sentence again and again, finding the fifteenth time to be just as futile as the rest of your attempts to help in your understanding of the text. You kept looking out at the window hoping to catch a glimpse of Benedict in the garden, but the expanse stayed decidedly empty of any non-Pall Mall players.
Slamming your book shut, you let out an indignant huff and rose to your feet. There was simply no universe in which you could wait until evening to hear what Benedict had to say. You hastily strode downstairs to Ben's studio, where he was most likely to be at any given time.
When your knock went unanswered, you slowly opened the door to find a room empty of Benedict. Everything was exactly as it had been the last time you were at Aubrey Hall except for a covered painting on an easel in the middle of the room. Your breath caught in your throat as you looked around the empty studio and realized that the last time you had been here was before the season had even started. You felt a pang in your chest as you remembered laying on Benedict's couch as he painted, conversing with an ease that you sorely missed.
But you couldn't afford to back down now. Alexander's tough love last night was the main force driving you to find your supposed best friend and demand answers from him, so you went back upstairs to Benedict's bedroom. You hadn't ever been in there, at least not since you were about six years old, but you didn't quite care at the moment. Social norms be damned, you needed to find Ben or you would implode.
Finally reaching his door, you knocked hesitantly, suddenly self-conscious now that you were faced with the reality of entering a man's chambers as an unmarried young lady in polite society. However, his nonchalant "I'm occupied at the moment" in response to your knock reignited the anger you had been feeling earlier. Having known Ben your entire life, you knew exactly how he sounded when he was either highly focused or in a rush, and he was evidently not in either of those states.
"I know you're not busy, and it's honestly insulting you thought I would believe you were," you responded, pounding on the door with much more force than you had before.
A nervous-looking Benedict opened the door a crack, eyebrows raising as he took in your downturned lips and crossed arms.
"Oh! Y/N. I didn't expect to see you here. Did Montgomery not deliver my note?" he squeaked.
You laughed sarcastically, looking him up and down and noting the uneasy shifting of his feet. "Of course I received it. But I have been waiting years of my life for this conversation, so I certainly wasn't going to wait until this evening. Are you insane?" You put your hand on the door to prevent him from shutting you out.
His entire demeanor changed, now much less nervous but also much more exasperated with you. "You are absolutely unbelievable," he cried, throwing his hands up as he turned around so his back faced you. "You are so impatient, could you really not just wait until tonight so we could properly speak?"
You took advantage of the fact that his back was turned to you and opened the door wider, fully stepping into the room just as he turned around again. "No, I couldn't, actually. We haven't spoken in four days, Ben!" you said furiously, poking him in the chest for emphasis.
A look of hurt flashed in his eyes as he realized just how much damage his silence had caused, and he whispered a cracked "I know. I'm sorry," as he ran a hand over his face. Your lack of response prompted him to swiftly move toward the window, hand on his chin, as he stared into the garden with a glassy look in his eyes.
You couldn't stand to see him so crushed, so you averted your gaze, incredibly curious about what the inside of his bedroom looked like and having been too focused on telling him off to really see it until now. Seeing pieces of paper scattered on his bed, you approached the haphazard pile to get a better look. You caught bits and pieces of the writing, all in Benedict's familiar scrawl, and you were almost tempted to fully read one of them until you saw that they were letters. Letters that were all addressed to you. Skimming over the writing, you read a myriad of declarations of love as well as a few proposals. You had most certainly never received these letters. When were they even written? There were too many to have been just from the past few days.
"Benedict, what is this?" you asked, voice shaking.
Snapping his head in your direction, he dashed over to you in a futile attempt to keep you from seeing the letters. "You weren't meant to see those! At least not right now," he finished lamely.
"Well, I am seeing them now, so just tell me what they are," you pressed, undeterred. You couldn't allow yourself any hope at all, knowing that you would be unimaginably devastated if your dreams of Benedict wanting the same things as you were crushed.
Ben was stammering, running his hands through his hair, trying to find a good way to explain the unsent love letters he had kept with him for weeks. "Just read them yourself, I suppose," is what he settled on.
But you shook your head, tears in your eyes. "You can't do this, Benedict. You can't do this to me." After taking a moment to calm your shaking voice, you continued, "I need you to say it out loud. I can't just read some letters you wrote that you thought I would never see. I need you to say it to me right now, otherwise I won't believe it. I can't." Your voice cracked with the effort of keeping in your unshed tears, and you bit your lip in an effort to remain stoic.
Seeing that he was still hesitant, you rolled your eyes. "It's only me, Benedict!" you exclaimed tearfully. "You tell me everything already, what's one more thing?"
"Only you?!" Ben sputtered, disbelieving. "The woman I've been in love with for years who is impossibly angry with me because I tried to kiss her?"
"That is a fair point, actually," you sniffed. "But it doesn't matter if I'm upset with you or not, it's just me."
Apparently, your reassurance worked, and he seemed to relax as he reached out and grasped your hand, rubbing his thumb over yours comfortingly as you stared at each other. After a slow nod, he spoke up, "You have been my best friend for as long as I can remember. And your intellect, your sense of humor, your beauty, and every facet of your being have captivated me entirely. It's difficult to put into words just how much you mean to me."
"Well, try," you sniffled, only half teasing.
He smiled fondly back at you, "This is long overdue, and I'm truly sorry it took me so long to realize it. I love you, Y/N. I think a part of me has loved you for years, and it's taken the rest of me a bit longer to catch up. You are all I think about from the moment I wake up until the minute I go to sleep. Even then, sometimes you're in my dreams." He sent you a wink.
"Y/N, you are the most wonderful person I have ever met, and I love you." You felt a flutter in your chest as you finally heard the words you had been longing to hear for longer than you could remember. You knew he meant them. That his feelings were true and not just a result of a rivalry with his brother.
Seeing your shy smile, he intertwined your fingers and tugged you closer as he continued, "I love you and it would be a great disservice to us both to go looking elsewhere for a partnership when we already have something that we have built so lovingly."
Swallowing thickly and squeezing your hand a bit more insistently, Benedict added, "And perhaps you no longer love me as you did before, which is more than understandable. However, I remember when we were children, we had plans to get married so that you could continue pursuing literature and I could dedicate myself to my art. I think we were made for each other, in that sense, and I'd love that marriage with you if you'll still have me."
You were stunned that remembered the promise you made as children. Of course, you did, too. But it was your dream partnership, after all. Although it seemed like it was his as well, given all he had said just now. "Obviously I remember, you dolt," you laughed, grabbing his other hand and intertwining your fingers with his. "And even if I wasn't incorrigibly in love with you I would still want to marry you."
A ridiculously wide smile appeared on Ben's face and he let out what seemed to be a soft giggle. You gasped, squeezing his hands. "Did Benedict Bridgerton just giggle?!" you teased.
"I'll kill you," he grumbled, but you couldn't take his threat seriously because he couldn't stop smiling, his eyes looking up and down your face as he tried to sear every inch of you into his memory.
"Right after you said you loved me? That's quite a shame, isn't it? I was quite looking forward to getting married," you hummed, bringing your hands, which were currently intertwined with Benedict's, behind your back. He took the opportunity to slide his hands out of yours and place them firmly on your waist, squeezing softly.
"So does this mean you accept my proposal?" he asked, thumbs rubbing your torso ever so slightly.
You could hardly focus on anything other than his hands on you like this, but you managed to eke out a teasing "I suppose it depends on whether you kill me or not" while staring intently at his lips, desire growing in your stomach and traveling downward.
"Shut up," he laughed and crashed his lips to yours.
It was nothing like you had imagined. Nothing at all. Oh, it was much better. So much better. Better than anything you could have ever dreamed. And suddenly the nights you spent fantasizing about this very moment seemed a bit silly when the real thing felt like this, with his lips moving carefully but impatiently against yours as all sorts of fireworks exploded inside you.
Your fingers had tangled themselves in his hair, tugging softly as you asked for more. One of his hands tightened on your waist, the other sliding to your lower back so he could pull you flush against him. The soft whimper you let out as you felt his chest touching yours seemed to ignite something new in Benedict, and he groaned as he softly bit your lip. You gasped in response, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth and exploring cautiously. Ben smiled against your lips when you giggled at the new sensation, and you couldn't help thinking that you'd be content to stay like this forever.
Just as you started reciprocating, you heard a set of footsteps in the hallway. Instinct took over and you hastily pushed Benedict away, eyes wide in fear. A look of concern immediately clouded Ben's face, and he reached out to you once again with a worried look, but you pushed him away. Once the footsteps passed, you slumped against him, sighing in relief.
"I'm an unmarried woman, Ben! I can't believe we just did that!" you exclaimed, nervously biting your lip. You felt his chest shaking with laughter as he put his arms around you and you shot him an annoyed look, even though you recognized that you were being a bit unreasonable given he'd just proposed.
"I suppose I'll have to marry you now. We're left with no other option," he whispered, lips dangerously close to your ear.
"What a shame," you teased back, burrowing deeper into him and giggling as he began kissing your neck.
Tugging at his hair until his lips left your skin, you whispered, "Ben, the door," wanting to avoid another scare before he got too carried away.
"What?" he responded, clearly distracted as you saw his fluttering eyes and disheveled hair.
"The door," you repeated, laughing as you saw his brain struggling to catch up with what you were saying, his mind still focused on other things.
You gestured toward the open bedroom door and he finally understood, nodding and muttering as he made his way across the room. But he didn't let go of your hand. Couldn't, rather. Benedict had spent so long wishing for this moment that he was scared to let go of you even for a second for fear that you'd slip away. He finally had your permission to make you his, to have you in every way he wanted to, and he wasn't about to waste any time. Other than to close the door, of course. It didn't matter how eager he was, your mother would surely have his head if she were to happen upon the two of you at this very moment, let alone the two of you ten minutes from now.
Satisfied that you had as much privacy as you were going to have in a house full of both the Beaumonts and the Bridgertons, you tugged on Ben's hand, bringing him to face you. He smiled down at you, the same warm and loving smile he'd been giving you for most of your life, and you were amazed at how lucky you were that you could have a best friend and a husband all in one. It was all you'd ever wanted. So you put a hand on his cheek and guided his lips to yours once again, squealing when he wrapped his arms around you and picked you up, plopping you on his bed.
---
You woke up to the feeling of Benedict's fingertips tracing shapes on your back, and you slowly blinked your eyes open to find the orange hues of a sunset lighting up the room. Ben's eyes stayed firmly on you, carefully observing the rise and fall of your breathing to make sure you weren't going anywhere, not that you could if you wanted to at the minute, given how comfortable his bed was. You smiled lazily at him and felt a kiss on your nose, which only made you smile wider. Turning to face him, you grabbed his arms and placed them around you, mumbling a soft, "You can't let me go now. Ever."
Tightening his hold on you and tangling his legs with yours, Ben whispered into your hair, "I wasn't planning on it."
As curiosity got the best of you, you opened one eye and stared at him intently. "What did you have planned for after dinner?"
He smiled shyly, a tad embarrassed. "I didn't really have anything planned yet. I was hoping I could have some more time to plan it out, which is why I asked for the day. But I guess that didn't work out."
You gasped, offended, and swatted at his shoulder. "Benedict! You are so ridiculous. You didn't have to have anything big planned. It's just me!" you repeated for what felt like the thirtieth time today.
Ben laughed and kissed your scrunched nose and then your pouted lips, amazed that he had the freedom to kiss you wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted. "You're quite attractive when you're angry, actually," he mused, admiring your annoyed expression.
You attempted to cross your arms over your chest in protest, but Benedict grasped your wrists before you could, intertwining his fingers with yours instead. "Well, you're doing a wonderful job of making me upset now," you grumbled, but you were secretly relieved that this new shift in your relationship had left your banter unchanged.
"When I came back from Oxford, I was planning on asking your mother for her wedding ring so I could propose to you," he said after a short pause. "I didn't really know why I was going to do it, exactly, because you were my best friend and we weren't like that, but I suppose I just liked the idea."
Upon seeing your questioning look, he elaborated, "The idea of staying as close as we could forever. And of seeing you able to pursue your passion for literature after marriage. It was remarkable to be able to discuss all of my term's reading with you when you weren't even attending the university, and I just wanted you to be able to keep doing that."
You were stunned. This was why he was your best friend, you realized. There was no one else in the world that saw you the way Benedict did. "So, why didn't you ask my mother, then? I think I would've known if she had given her ring away," you probed, not quite believing that Ben had been so close to proposing to you so long ago.
Benedict played with your fingers, not quite meeting your eyes. After clearing his throat, he said, "Well, you would talk endlessly about how much you were dreading being out in society and having to find a husband and get married. And your mother had just allowed you to delay your coming out and you were over the moon, so obviously it wasn't the right time."
Softly, he added, "And you kept saying how much you were going to detest being married that I just couldn't. I didn't think I could handle you growing to hate me if we ever got married. So I put the idea of proposing on a very lofty shelf in my mind that I wasn't ever going to touch again."
You cooed, taking Ben's face in your hands and looking into his eyes. "I could never hate you, Benedict," you said and pecked him softly on the lips.
"Well I know that now don't I?" he asked, kissing you on the forehead. It was such a simple gesture, one you had received countless times over the years, but it was different now. He was yours now. Well, almost.
"Are you actually going to ask for the ring this time?" you asked after a few moments.
"Oh, I already did," he grinned. "She was going to give it to me today, but your impatience foiled those plans a tad and I didn't get a chance to get it from her."
"Ah, I suppose I can wait a few more hours for the ring then," you responded, snuggling into Benedict's arms, happy to be home.