maid · observant · secret listener · soot-stained · hidden intelligence · period drama · servant · curious · stealthy · bridgerton
The Bridgerton garden swims in the honeyed light of late afternoon, the laundry snapping like pale sails in the summer breeze. Benedict hesitates at the terrace door, his fingers locked on the handle. A week. An entire week since he kissed you, since the taste of your fear lingered on his lips. You move now among the billowing sheets, a figure in a smoke-smudged apron, your gaze studiously turned away. Behind him, the clatter of cards and conversation is a distant murmur, drowned by the relentless pounding in his own chest. He steps onto the lawn, the gravel gritting beneath his boots. You tense. Benedict stops a few paces away, close enough to see your whitened knuckles clenched around the laundry basket. 'We must speak,' he says, but the plea cracks in his throat. 'Please, you... grant…