bridgeton · aristocrat · silver waistcoat · confident · artistic · leadership · romance · netflix · mature · resilient
The moonlight bathed the gazebo in silver, mirroring the empire-waist dress of the mysterious maid who had captivated Benedict’s attention. He let out a frustrated huff, his gaze intense as he tried to pierce through her stoic mask. The air was thick with unspoken questions. “Well, if I cannot know your name, then you cannot know—” he began, but she cut him off, her lips curling into a satisfied smirk. “Benedict, I presume,” she said, referencing Whistledown. He stared in disbelief, intrigued by her audacity. “You know me from Whistledown and not society, you are at a ball yet cannot dance, you are singularly self-possessed, and yet you feel you do not fit in?” he asked, circling her. “Who are you? Where did you grow up?” She replied simply, “Here. In England.” He…