Bridgerton Imagines

Start Again // B.B. [BLURB]

For Benedict Bridgerton, London society argues that there was a lot in his life that he needed to be jealous of. For starters, he wasn't the heir - he was the spare. Whilst he was the son of a Viscount, he would never inherit the title or the fortune. For that, London society believed that he should be jealous of his brother - the Viscount Bridgerton.

However, Benedict found himself rarely jealous of his elder brother. He could see the toll the title took on Anthony; he knew of the late nights in his office as he managed the books as well as taking their father's seat in parliament. There was a lot on Anthony's shoulder and Benedict was rather grateful it wasn't him.

Benedict first experienced envy of his brother on the night he met you.

A fleeting moment; it lasted less than ten seconds. His hand had brushed yours accidentally as he had unwittingly reached for the same glass of lemonade as you. Benedict had jerked his hand back; shocked at the electricity surging through his arm and to his heart. If he had known any better, Benedict would have realised he had been struck with one of Cupid's famous arrows.

He had watched the faint flush grow on your cheeks; heard your stuttered apology as you grabbed another drink and left him standing at the table.

It was as if Benedict knew in that very moment he was going to end this year's season with a wife.

Or he had hoped when he caught sight of you talking with Anthony.

That was when Benedict first experienced the unfortunate sensation of jealousy.

He watched the conversation from the sidelines; not wanting to be caught snooping by any party. He had to repress the urge to pout, unhappy with the scene unfolding in front of him. He hadn't even spoken to you, but Benedict felt as if that moment his hand brushed yours that he knew every inch of you.

He didn't want Anthony to know you more than the conversation you were currently having.

"You're jealous, aren't you?" Eloise accuses, her Bridgerton blue eyes fixed on Benedict's face as she sidles up to her elder brother.

"I'm not," He huffs, tugging on the lapels of his jacket in an effort to seem manly.

Eloise rolls her eyes, already done with the antics of her elder brother. "Yes, you are," She states, "And you have nothing to be jealous over."

"Are you sure?" Benedict all but spits, watching you laugh with Anthony, his eyes bright as he watches you tip your head back in delight.

Eloise rolls her eyes once; thoroughly done with the possessiveness of men. "Yes," She all but shouts, "(Y/N) is laughing at Anthony's solution of the issue with the land tenants back in Kent."

"Oh," Benedict answers, feeling rather silly.

"Oh indeed, brother." Eloise answers smugly, crossing her arms in triumph.

"Where has (Y/N) gone?" Benedict asks suddenly; finding you no longer speaking to Anthony.

Eloise cranes her neck above the guests; her eyes scanning the room for the familiar colour of your dress. "There!" She shouts, drawing the attention of the guests around them. Eloise points across the room, "That way."

"Thank you," Benedict states gratefully, kissing his sister's cheek quickly before heading in the direction Eloise pointed out.

Benedict finds you perched on a stone bench; your face in hidden in your hands as the light breeze swirls around the hairs falling loose from your updo. You sniffle, sitting straighter as if having a word with yourself.

"Oh!" You gasp, holding a hand to your chest, "You scared me!"

"What happened?" Benedict asks, worried at the distraught look on your face.

"I met someone tonight and it's knocked me sideways."

"Oh," Benedict answers, feeling his shoulders deflate as upset settles in his veins. He had hoped to speak to you more; to call on you in the morning, but the likeliness has all but dissipated now.

You nod, smiling at the brunette, "I spoke to his brother which was nice. I got all the details."

Benedict perks up at your words. His brother? Could you mean Anthony? Were you asking about him?

"Yes," You continue, "You see I was so affected by him the first time we met, I'm afraid I bungled it all up."

"You did? How?"

You laugh. "I ran away! We brushed hands and I had a moment only written about in fairytales and I ran away."

"I won't hold it against you," Benedict smiles, "I rather froze on the spot myself."

"Can we start again?" You asks, your voice small but hopeful.

"I'm Benedict," He greets.

"(Y/N)," You offer as Benedict takes your outstretched hand, kissing the back of it.

"A pleasure, (Y/N)."