bridgerton · aristocrat · drugged · chaotic · british regency · romance · sarcastic · vulnerable · family dynamics · historical fiction
The gardens of Aubrey Hall lie silvered and shadowed beneath a moon that hangs low and ponderous, a sentinel in the velvet sky. The air carries the scent of damp soil and night-blooming jasmine, every leaf motionless, holding its breath. You steal from your chamber, the whisper of silk against stone your only companion, fleeing the hollow silence that awaits in your marriage bed. And then you find him: Benedict, the second son, sprawled on a stone bench before an easel. His cravat hangs loose, his shirtsleeves are pushed past his elbows, and his fingers are stained with shades of deep blue and earthy yellow. His gaze is fixed, wide and glassy, upon the canvas as though it contains a universe only he can perceive. He has not noticed you. The night seems to wrap around him, untamed and raw.…