Chapter Text
Benedict had no intention of attending Lady Danbury’s soiree, even if his mother had asked him to earlier that day.
But when Anthony had shown up at Mondrich’s club and was so flippant, more than Benedict thought his brother capable of, what other choice did he have but to follow him?
He did so without Anthony’s knowledge, of course, arriving at Lady Danbury’s just a few minutes later. But it was enough time for him to observe the most utterly painful spectacle of his brother stiffly reciting Benedict's words as though they were his own!
But perhaps worse yet, it was enough time for him to observe Miss Sharma and her sister - and what was clearly a rebuke by the younger towards the elder’s admonitions against Anthony. He watched Kate Sharma flee, bumping into a footman, the ruckus drawing most eyes in the room.
“Brother,” he heard Eloise call to him suddenly, relief evident in her voice, and it was enough to wake him from the spectacle of painful awkwardness. “Why are you here? I am glad, of course,” Eloise said, coming to stand next to him as she looked warily back at the crowd before them. “But I cannot imagine why you have come here to subject yourself to this willingly.”
Benedict knocked his shoulder against hers affectionately before letting out a tired sigh. “Normally I would be far, far away from such an event, but...” He paused for a moment to exhale a slightly annoyed grumble. “Our illustrious brother visited me just before coming here to ask about…poetry.”
His sister let out a deep groan. “How did you not stop him from such a spectacle? I shall hold you responsible now since you knew of his plans!”
“Well, it is not as though I knew he was going to repeat my - “ Realizing his mistake, Benedict quickly shut his mouth, but it was too late. Eloise turned to look at him, appraising him for a few moments. Shifting uncomfortably on his feet, Benedict managed to finally say, “I don’t know that I would say that I’m responsible, per se…”
Her eyes narrowed as she contemplated him before finally asking, “Was that your poem?”
Though he did not turn his head, his eyes darted towards her. “I do not know of what you speak, sister.”
“He said they were not his words, but I assumed he was simply referring to a poet,” Eloise stated decisively, clearly pleased with herself, and of course, she was correct. “And those words he spouted sounded quite a lot like something you might say.”
“Perhaps,” he confirmed quietly before his face scrunched slightly in annoyance. “But I did not know he would attempt such foolishness.”
Eloise hummed in agreement. “Foolish indeed. And rather a bit torturous, too.” Her eyes scanned the room, settling on the fool in question. “Though it appears to have worked. Miss Edwina seems to be quite enraptured by him,” she said with a roll of her eyes.
“I suppose he is winning then.”
“Her affections?”
Benedict scoffed. “Those too. But I meant the competition Anthony has imagined against Miss Edwina’s sister.”
Eloise let out a small growl, one Benedict felt was actually a bit similar to Anthony on occasion. “She is only trying to protect her sister. Why must he be so ridiculous?” she questioned in frustration.
“Do ask him that, Eloise. And make sure I am there to watch,” he said with a quick smile and pat to her arm.
With a deep and bored exhale, Eloise crossed her arms and looked out to the crowd before them, finally settling on their eldest brother once more. They stood in silence for a few moments before Eloise spoke again. “I quite like Miss Sharma - Kate,” she said quietly. “She’s witty and not like the other debutantes. I fear Anthony tried to make a fool of her tonight.”
Benedict placed a hand on her shoulder. “From what I have heard, I suspect she will not let him succeed in that - though I do not know her, truth be told.”
“Oh,” Eloise replied in realization. “Well, that can and should be remedied quickly.” And then her eyes rounded about the room before settling in satisfaction. “Miss Sharma!” she exclaimed, one arm lifting up into the air to wave.
Kate Sharma had reentered Lady Danbury’s drawing room just then, her shoulders squared and head held high as though she were preparing to enter battle. She is a beauty in her own right, Benedict could not help but think as he observed her. It seemed odd that he hadn’t heard that commented on thus far in the season.
Though, he supposed, he too was familiar with living in a sibling’s shadow.
At his sister’s quite loud beckoning, Miss Sharma startled for a moment before her mask resumed, and she approached them.
“Miss Bridgerton,” she greeted, her voice even and calm. But even with the outward appearance of such a steady visage, Benedict would have sworn he could see a glint of exhaustion in her eyes.
“Did we not settle on you calling me ‘Eloise?’”
“Apologies,” Kate said with a deep exhale. “Eloise,” and her voice was gentle and honest in a way that Benedict had rarely observed with other ladies who interacted with his sister. “And only if you call me ‘Kate,’ of course.”
Eloise nodded in acceptance. “And with that settled, I would introduce you to my brother, Benedict.”
Kate’s eyes shot to him. “Oh,” she breathed. “Mr. Bridgerton,” she said, curtseying like a perfect debutante, though without a hint of the normal demure look most tended to sport. Hers was of steelier sort.
“Miss Sharma,” he greeted her with a warm smile and small nod. “I hope you will not hold our brother’s idiocy against me.”
Her eyes widened immediately, her eyebrows leaping upwards. Oh, he realized. Perhaps that was a bit too honest. He’d had a bit to drink at Mondrich’s, so perhaps that was the ale speaking, Benedict thought.
But then -
Laughter. A small snort of laughter escaped Miss Sharma.
“I shall not,” she confirmed, and her voice was warm and full.
“Good,” he said in acceptance. “I hope the other gentlemen here tonight have proved at least somewhat entertaining.”
“Ah,” Kate replied tentatively and looked to Eloise, perhaps not entirely sure how open she could be in front of him. “They were…perfectly amiable. And earnest.”
“You are being far too nice, and I do not know why,” Eloise told her.
“The gentleman who spun that top wasn’t so bad,” Kate admitted.
“Does my sister speak true, Miss Sharma?” Benedict asked, one eyebrow raised in amused surprise - and challenge. “Are you hiding your opinions?”
“I do not know you, Mr. Bridgerton. As such, I was unsure of your mettle and if you could withstand a true critique of your sex.”
His smile grew as he took a step closer. “It is my belief that critique leads to improvement.”
She eyed him carefully before replying with a small smile. “Very well,” she said. “They were all utterly predictable, I would say. No imagination or passion.”
“Do you include our brother in that assessment?” he couldn’t help but ask.
Kate’s face tightened at the question. “I’d rather know what your sister thought,” she said, turning to Eloise with an easy smile, deftly avoiding expressing what Benedict assumed would have been an insult to their brother.
Eloise had just been about to take a sip of her lemonade but her hand paused mid-air at Kate’s inquiry. “Anthony truly should not read poetry,” his sister stated seriously. “Ever,” she affirmed with a shudder.
Clearly trying to hide a smile and failing, Kate spoke. “Well, at least he chose wisely. But I’ll deny I ever admitted that if you try to tell him.”
“You - you liked the poem then?” Benedict asked in surprise, head tilted to the side as he studied her expression.
Kate’s lips quirked in thought, and she looked at him as though he were a spy. “Are you going to tell him if I did?”
“Never,” he said, placing his hand over his heart. And while his voice was solemn, he could not help but smile a bit. Benedict always had a smile at the ready but it was even easier with her somehow, he couldn’t help but think.
And even as her eyes narrowed in suspicion at him, a responding small smile formed on her lips. “Well, I do not think for a moment that he believes in the words he was speaking,” she began to say. And then she paused for a moment, brushing her hands along the skirt of her dress before she intertwined her fingers. She looked down at them, twisting them back and forth before finally continuing. “However, from what he read, I did happen to find it quite…” She straightened her shoulders, looking around the room and not at him, as though she did not want to admit what she was about to say. “Moving.”
Something fluttered inside Benedict’s chest at that - in pride and some other indescribable emotion. To hear praise of something he had created and know without question that it was because of the work itself and not his name was a rare feeling.
“What of those words moved you, if I may inquire?” he couldn’t help but ask.
“I, well, that is…” she sputtered at first, making clear to him that she did not want to answer. “I feel that I should hear all of it before I truly express an opinion,” she deflected.
“That was nearly all of it, I believe,” he prodded.
“You know it then, Mr. Bridgerton?”
“Ah, yes, do you know it, Benedict?” Eloise asked with false innocence, and Benedict nearly startled, only then remembering his sister was with them.
“I must say, I would like to read it myself,” Kate said quietly, her eyes growing soft for a moment.
“Brother,” Eloise said in a knowing tone. “Do you know where Miss Sharma could find a copy of that poem?” she asked, batting her eyes at him with a small smirk.
“I believe…copies of it are quite hard to come by,” he answered carefully. “Quite rare.”
“Oh,” Kate said, her expression falling just a bit in clear disappointment. “That is a pity.”
And for some reason before he could stop himself, Benedict found himself saying, “I could find a copy for you. If - if you like.”
At his offer, he could see her surprise, and then the smallest bit of the guarded expression in her eyes fell away then. “Thank you, Mr. Bridgerton. That’s quite kind of you,” Kate said sincerely. “I must say, it’s quite difficult for me to continue to be annoyed with your brother when the rest of his family is so amiable.”
Suddenly Eloise let out a small gasp, dipping behind Benedict’s shoulder. “Oh no,” she breathed, her eyes widening. “Mother has imprisoned some utter idiot and I know, I just know she is going to try to make me speak with him.” And before either of them realize what has happened, Eloise had fled, leaving Benedict and Kate alone.
She blinked her eyes, clearly trying to digest the sudden turn of events before she looked to him and began to laugh. “I quite like your sister, Mr. Bridgerton. She is not like most ladies I have encountered here thus far.”
And yet again, he found himself smiling, happy that someone else could see the good in his unique sister. “She most certainly is not, and thank God for that.”
Kate shook her head with a warm laugh, and he was glad to see that perhaps the tension he’d observed before was gone now. But as soon as that thought had crossed his mind, he watched as her eyes moved around the room and landed on Anthony. In an instant, he saw her stiffen and her smile fall away. With a shake of her head, she looked down to her gloves adjusting them before looking up and decidedly away from his brother, her head held high.
Benedict could see Anthony watching them quite intently, his expression both curious and confused. You are a fool, brother, he thought. And with that in mind, he turned his attention back to his companion. “Might I offer some advice, Miss Sharma?”
“Advice?”
“Regarding my brother.”
“And what would that be?” she asked skeptically.
“Anthony…likes a challenge. And you have presented him with a significant one.”
“I’m sure,” she scoffed with a roll of her eyes. “I can imagine he is quite used to getting his way without much protest.”
“Indeed,” Benedict confirmed. “But if I may be so bold, I think the challenge for him is not winning your sister’s affections as much as it is…winning against you.”
He could see her immediately bristle upon hearing his observation. “Well, while your brother may see this all as a game, I am only doing what I think is best to protect my sister’s heart.”
“I do not know you, Miss Sharma, but I have no doubt of that,” he agreed gently. “I only mean to say, perhaps a different course of action could help you in that regard.”
“What do you mean?”
“I would propose simply…not engaging with him,” Benedict explained. “Let your sister know your objection - “
“She is aware,” Kate interjected. “She is aware,” she repeated, her voice quieter now. But not so quiet that he could not hear the hurt so clearly in her voice. Not all pain can be masked, he thought.
“Well, if that is clear to her, then with my brother I would advise that you make clear to him that it is up to her, not you. Take yourself out of the competition, so to speak.”
“And simply let him win her hand?” she asked incredulously.
“If your sister is aware and is already set on him, then I would venture we are headed to the outcome regardless, are we not? Unless you believe your sister will truly heed your objections?”
He watched as her brow furrowed, and a wound, a flash of hurt, painted her eyes. It was surprising somehow to see her allow that emotion. And then he could see her contemplating his words and perhaps the strategy behind it. Finally her eyes settled on a question. “Why are you telling me this?”
“My brother is not one to take advice, not even from me. So if I can help him somehow, then I will.”
“And if it works, how does this help him if he does not win my sister’s hand?”
“While I’m sure your sister is perfectly wonderful, I believe my brother - and perhaps your sister as well - would be served better if he were truly forced to question if he is pursuing her because of his affections for her; or for the challenge or the idea of ‘the diamond,’” Benedict explained, the last two words coming out with a dramatic flourish.
“Why not ask him that question yourself?” Kate hedged.
And now it was his turn to try and hide the pain of a sibling’s disregard. “You are not alone in your possession of a beloved sibling who will not always heed your advice,” he answered softly, trying to sport a smile once more but failing.
She looked at him, clearly considering his words. “How can I be sure that this is not some trick, just like the one your brother devised with Mr. Dorset?”
“I suppose you will simply have to trust me, Miss Sharma,” he told her gently. And he didn’t know why or how, but something in the way she looked at him told him that perhaps she just might. And then another realization crossed his mind.
“It was not just Anthony’s scheme, you know,” he began to say. “I believe Mr. Dorset to have been genuine in his interest in you.” Kate let out a disbelieving scoff and snort that Benedict found utterly charming and laughed at her response. As his amusement settled, he took a step towards her.
“Why do you not believe it to be true?” he asked quietly, curious at her quick dismissal.
She looked down then, avoiding his eyes clearly, her hands smoothing her dress. A nervous habit, he realized. “It was clearly your brother’s scheme and nothing more.”
“Well, I assure you, Dorset did truly wish to know you. He is an intelligent man, after all.”
Kate looked back up at him then, one eyebrow lifted skeptically. “You’re a charmer too, then?” she observed in a dry murmur.
He tilted his head to the side coyly. “I suppose that depends on if you find yourself charmed, Miss Sharma,” he said, and he could not help how his voice dipped a bit lower. “Do you?” A lovely flush crossed her cheeks, and he found himself wanting to cause that effect again. He shook himself from those thoughts, surprised at himself. “The advice I've offered you comes solely from myself, that I can assure you.”
A tentative smile formed on her lips as their eyes held the other’s. “I will think on your advice, Mr. Bridgerton. On one condition.”
He raised his eyebrows in anticipation.
“You will give me a copy of that poem so that I may read it in full.”
Benedict smiled fully.
“As you wish, Miss Sharma.”