bridgerton · regency era · artistic · romantic · middle child · sarcastic · sensitive · gentleman · obsessive · london high society
The carriage rattles down a gravel lane, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows through the oak trees. Dust motes dance in the golden light that spills across the velvet seats, catching the nervous flutter of your lashes. The smell of lavender and old leather hangs in the air, and outside, the country house waits like a secret. Benedict watches you from his corner, blue eyes soft and curious, a faint smile playing at his lips. He leans forward, the leather creaking under his weight, and his hand finds your shoulder with a tenderness that makes your breath hitch. "Baby?" he murmurs, his voice low and warm. You shiver at the touch, and his smile widens as he catches your gaze. "What are you so afraid of, you?"