The Second Born Bridgerton's Wife // Benedict Bridgerton

Not my secret

I return back to the living room to find he is no longer there and so it shall be quite impossible for me to converse with him. And so, heartbroken and unsure what else to do, I excuse myself and walk across to my old home so that I might converse with Penelope instead. However, it is Prudence that allows me in and so alerts my mother of my presence, which means that she is quick to leap on me. "Peaches, my dear. Did you beg of Anthony for money? I need to pay what it costs for your father's funeral."

"You need no more money, I know Benedict has already been providing you with such, do not beg me any longer." I am dismissive of her, beginning to walk up the stairs so I might find the sibling I actually came to talk to.

"What?" My mother stops me, a confused look contorting on her face. "I have not had any money from Benedict." I have to look at her as she says that so that I may concentrate on her properly in order to deduce whether she is telling the truth or not. My mother is many things, but she is not usually a liar. As I look at her, I do not believe she is lying."

"That is not true, mother. For Anthony told... he... he told me that..." I hesitate for a moment. Perhaps Benedict has been taking money from Anthony and it has not been going to my own family as I assumed it had been. Perhaps that money is merely being use to pay for prostitutes and women and whoever and whatever else. "He has given you no money whatsoever? Not a single penny, mother? Answer me honestly for this is important."

"Peaches, I promise you. We have received not a coin from any Bridgerton." Placing a hand on my shoulder gently and leaning into me, she raises an eyebrow as though interested for what this means, what gossip comes from this. "What-"

"I must go." I turn on my heel and storm back to the Bridgerton home. Benedict is still not home and so I sit upstairs in the bedroom and I wait for him. There are a hundred thoughts racing through my mind and I do not know what I am to do with a single one of them.

It all points to the horrible and awful truth that I wish to deny. All factors point to only one thing: my husband is having an affair. He has been out all hours of the day, he has not wanted to be as intimate as usual, and not only this, but he has been taking money from Anthony and giving it to whoever she is. She must be some mistress he keeps in some secret apartment that I do not know of, I do not know if it is Madame delacroix or someone else or whoever else but I do not care. All I know is that I am angry and I have not felt anger like this since Anthony told me I shall never marry Benedict.

My husband arrives home and he opens the door, greeting me with a smile. "Good evening, you."

"Benedict?"

"Yes, my darling?"

"I... do not know what to say. I suppose I... I am going to give you one chance to answer this truthfully and I expect you shall be truthful. You owe me that at least. Are you... is there another woman? Are you seeing someone else?" I sit on the bed and I look up at him, afraid to meet his eye. I am afraid of everything he shall for I am sure I do not wish to know the answer.

He stands, as though stunned for a moment before narrowing his eyes slightly. "You are accusing me of sleeping with another woman?"

"I do not know what else I am to accuse you of. Since we have come to London you have acted suspicious. You have been spending extended periods of time outside of the house with little to no explanation. You have spent so much time at the modiste, and alas, I am yet so see a single new item of clothing. You did not wish to come to the ball for you were so tired and yet as soon as we arrived home, you were ready and rearing to leave the home as though you had somewhere better to be than with your wife. I am not the only one who has noticed it either. Both of your brothers have mentioned it to me. I do not know what more I am to do in this marriage. If it is because I am pregnant and so I cannot do as much as I used to then I deem that is rather unfair since I always do everything I can and I never ever leave you unsatisfied. I do not wish for any more lies... are you seeing another woman? Are there other women?" I sniffle in so that I might attempt to stop myself from crying, for I am sure that I am about to begin to.

"I am not seeing any other women, Peaches, I cannot believe you would accuse me of such. I love you and you only, I do not know-"

"And what of all the money?"

"What?"

"I asked Anthony if he shall be able to spare any money for my family and he denied my request because he said that you had already taken so much money he could not justify it. I assumed it was for my family and that you were caring for them but it is not that, my mother denies having received any funds from you. So where is that money going? To some secret apartment that you hide your mistress in?" I scowl and stand up, gripping onto the bed frame. All of the anger and distress inside of me makes me feel rather tired but I must make my point. "You cannot do this to me. It is beyond unfair. If we had not married for love then I could understand but... I thought you cared for me, truly I did. But once again, you have made me feel like such a fool."

"Peaches. Please." Benedict takes my hands gently and seats me back down. Although I attempt to resist, the weak and wobbling feeling in my legs simply does not allow me to. His hands stay tight around my own, a large frown on his face and hurt in his eyes. "I should never do that to you. I should never ever... treat you as such... I know my actions have not been completely normal for myself but I do not feel they warrant these accusations."

"Then what is your excuse? For being with the dressmaker more often than you are with me? For stealing money from your family? For... for... I... what other excuse can there possibly be?!" I exclaim, beginning to grow in anger and scowling, yanking my hands hard away from his reassuring grasp.

"Peaches, please. I swear to you by the moon and the stars and every being in this god forsaken world, I am not having an affair. My heart belongs to you, my darling. It belongs to you." He whispers and strokes my face in an attempt to calm my temper. "It is only... it is not my own secret to tell. It is not my secret to tell." He keeps his voice low and quiet and continues his attempt to comfort me, kissing my cheek.

"You should not keep secrets from me. I am your wife." I whisper, my voice catching as I feel the tears beginning to spill from my eyes. "Benedict please. I do not care what it is any longer. I... I wish only to know. I wish only to know."