Charcoal Smudges [Benedict Bridgerton x Henry Granville x Lord Wetherby]

Chapter 1

Benedict Bridgerton has always felt a little… Odd. 

Not that ‘odd’ was the right word to describe it, but he simply lacked words to give it more of a meaning. The lingering feeling was nothing but a blurred charcoal sketch in the back of his mind. Perhaps, that is why when he actually tried to draw something, it ended up being no more than precisely that. 

Eloise, witted as she was, seemed to know of this oddness he felt. She spoke about her own oddness deliberately. Much too freely for a lady for her age and rank. Yet, Benedict seemed the only of the siblings who truly did not mind her sharp tongue. Everyone tried to silence her. Benedict found her rebellious spirit to be a reflection of his own; even though he kept it hidden.

At this very moment, his dear sister scribbles in one of her many notebooks. She frowns occasionally, crossing out something she wrote and starting over with a frustrated grunt. Benedict finds it endearing. He stares down at his own work. Charcoaled lines smudged together into the figure resembling a male torso. Strong, lean muscles underneath taut skin. Or well, that’s what he sees in his mind. The image on his paper is dull. Empty.

Benedict presses his lips together silently. He wishes there was a way to get the image that chases him in his mind onto the rough paper underneath his fingers. He hasn’t felt this troubled in quite some time and he nearly despises Sir Granville for having been so… Careless. Reckless, even. 
Because of him , Benedict’s mind pools with the adamant memory of two male bodies pressed ever so urgently together. 
A trembled sigh shakes him from his thoughts and he closes his sketchbook. It’s too much to think about at this very moment. He must go out for a walk.

A long one, most likely.

“Mother,” he speaks swiftly as he stands up, tucking the notebook securely into his side. “I’ll be out for a while.”
“Oh?” She smiles surprised. “Will you be back by dinnertime? I’ve invited Lord Wetherby. The sweet young man never secured a match in the last season, and I thought it might be a good idea to-”
“Lord Wetherby?” Benedict asks. 

Male hands digging into a strong lower back. Crotches grinding together, the stubble of a freshly shaven beard against one’s neck.  

Benedict’s nostrils flare and he realizes he must look like a complete and utter fool. He forces himself to send his mother a smile. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I would never miss a dinner that holds such weight.”
“You’re a good son, Ben. And I think the Lord would make a good match for our Eloise.”

Benedict simply smiles, ignoring his sister’s displeased tirade, and turns around to walk out the door. 

-

“Brother! Wait!”
Benedict turns around, surprised to hear a voice calling after him. He immediately recognizes Eloise’s fast tread as she descends the stairs. A cheery, cheeky smile decorates her face and Benedict has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. It is instantly clear that she is in the midst of one of her schemes.

“Mind if I join you?”
“Actually-”
“Ah, wonderful!” Eloise beams and hooks her arm through his. Benedict sighs in defeat and looks at her warmly. He could never turn her down and she, of course, is highly aware of his fondness towards her. Benedict has let her behavior slip too often to act the role of a strict brother now. And perhaps, her refreshing presence is exactly what he needs to lighten the burdened thoughts.