The Second Born Bridgerton's Wife // Benedict Bridgerton

Opera singer

"He said he shall sort it." I watch my husband as he continues to pace back and forth across the room, scowling to himself. "Benedict, please. You must not worry any longer, you are being silly. I... you must calm down." I sit down and begin to push pins into my hair. It is my father's funeral this afternoon and I shall need to be leaving soon if I am to make it on time. "Perhaps you should rest this afternoon."

"No, no. I am sorry. I shall be coming with you, of course I shall be doing." Benedict takes his seat beside me and helps me with the final pin with soft and delicate hands. He helps me most of the time when we are at Aubrey hall, he has become quite proficient at these things. "I am sorry. I am complaining over such little things and I have forgotten what today is for you, my darling. I am sorry... I shall dress right now."

"You do not have to attend with me. It is not as though you knew the man and it is not as though I cared for him so deeply." I shrug as I press my earrings in, looking to him and kissing his lips, smiling. "I cannot believe I considered for a moment that you should be having an affair."

"Oh, I can. I realise my actions have been far from normal, darling. And the amount of time I have spent at the modiste shall be the most suspicious, hm?" He raises an eyebrow as he cups my face, kissing the end of my nose as he presses his forehead against my own. "It is a special dress and it needs plenty of attention. It is for a very special occasion."

"We do not have any special occasions in the diary, though. If you are to organise something, you must ensure it does not coincide with our extremely busy social calendar!" I giggle a little and kiss his lips once again, and he holds my head so that he might deepen it slightly. "What do you have planned, is it a surprise?"

"Very much so, and it shall be a secret until then." He laughs a little as his hand rests on the bare part of my back, leaning further into me and continuing the embrace, a wide grin on his face. "Except this is a good secret. This is the kind of secret I am sure you shall be extremely excited about, my darling."

"Is it a ball? Are we having a ball?"

"Do you truly wish to know and ruin all of the work I have done to keep it from you?" He trails his finger across my neck and down my chest, holding my waist as he runs a hand over my ever growing stomach. "I shall tell you if you shall wish. I do not want you to feel I am hiding anything from you, darling."

I watch him for a moment, shaking my head. "No, I trust you. Even if you think I am a horrible gossip and a terrible scandal loving lady, and you do not trust me, I trust you."

"You accused me of cheating on you, you most certainly do not always."

"Your behaviour was so suspect that I had to think something was happening! I would have been a fool if I did not, you must believe that much." I shake my head a little and watch him, but I still smile. "How big and pretty can this dress possibly be? It must be the most wondrous thing to ever exist if it is taking you this long to sort it out, my love." I stand, straightening my dress and sighing. "Will anyone even notice if I am not there? Might I not say that perhaps my legs are so tired and I feel so awful that I might not attend?"

"Peaches, I know you did not like the man but my darling, you shall feel awful if you do not attend. I know it shall be something you regret." He strokes my hand and kisses me before he buttons his jacket and nods. "Let us go now."

"Okay."

The funeral is about as I expected it should be. There is an extremely small gathering, he was not a popular man and so he did not have many people who should wish to attend. It is only my sisters, my mother, myself and Benedict, along with a few other members of his drinking and gambling club who most likely felt as though they had to come. Afterwards, I go back for tea at my old home. It is the least we could, I suppose. For I know my mother did not love him, but I know that she is suffering either way. "How is it being back in London, Benedict?" Penelope asks, eager to start a topic of conversation.

"Oh, it is... well. It is something, for certain. I suppose I have become used to only speaking with my wife, I am suddenly quite socially inept, I fear." He smiles and sips at the tea my mother has made. I see his eyes squint slightly at how awful the taste is, but he does not say anything, of course. He is far too polite for that, for he is a gentleman and he is good and he is kind and he should not wish to embarrass my mother by paying any attention to how awful the tea is. "Although it has been nice to see everyone, of course."

"It has been wonderful to see you and Peaches!" Pen grins and leans in so that she may talk without my mother hearing now, as she chats incessantly with my two other sisters. "I have heard a rumour I should like to ask you about."

"Oh?" Benedict glances to me before he looks back to Penelope. "And what is that?"

"I have heard that a certain opera singer is pregnant and that it may be part of the Bridgerton family." She mutters under her breath. I have no idea how she knows that, as far as I was aware, it was only myself, Benedict and Anthony now too. "Is that true?"

Benedict's mood instantly changes, his eyes now narrowing slightly at me. "No, Pen. That is not at all true. May I ask where you heard such a rumour?" He is thinking the same as me. We should be the only people to know and clearly we are not. He thinks I have told Pen, and I have not.

"Oh, through a friend. I apologise, it is none of my business." She smiles and changes the topic of conversation once more. "So when shall I be invited to Aubrey hall?"

"Soon enough."