CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS [BRIDGERTON]

nine.

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𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭
𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭
𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬.

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The Sun was setting and the sky was turning into a hue of orange. The people of the Ton were still rowdy as they hurriedly prepared for yet another ball in the evening and the unforeseen ball her sister was hosting the following night after the event in Somerset House. The sound of carriages flowing across the Ton paled in comparison to the chaos occurring in Augusta's bedroom at the Bridgerton household.

Alice had sent her very own seamstress and maid to pamper and 'improve' her older sister's features before the two big events. Augusta had no plans in attending any even more so when Alice's seamstress ─ Madame Dugray ─ dubbed her lower extremities as magnificent birthing hips. The governess stormed out of the room once she stepped down from the pedestal, grabbing the borrowed book on her bedside table and finding refuge in the old oak tree where she and Eloise shared many conversations late at night.

As she had always done at their home, Augusta twisted the ropes of the swing and spun around with her feet high from the ground and her hands gripping tightly on the rope for stability.

Even if she had grabbed a book, it laid insignificantly beside her on the wooden swing as Augusta seethed with rage as to why her younger sister had sent her servants after her. Was it to spite her even more or was it a form of an apology? Either way, it was a pathetic gesture in Augusta's eyes.

The arrangement of flowers and various plants moved around in a flurry as she continued to spin. However, each time she faced the Bridgerton house, a torso appeared, blocking her view of the residence.

A hand lunging at one of the ropes halted Augusta's spinning motion.

She glanced up and found Mister Benedict Bridgerton ─ his sketchbook tucked under his arm and his fingers tained with coal ─ examining her with an amused smile. "I found the commotion in your room funny but this is just pure comical."

Swinging around once more to place the swing in its proper position, Augusta rolled her eyes and groaned. "Your sympathy for my suffering is overwhelming, Mr. Bridgerton."

He walked around coolly until he was in front of her. "What did that seamstress suggest? They had to make a perfect dress for your ─ "

Augusta had reached for the book and aimed it at him. "If you dare finish that sentence ─ ", 

"Miss Woodbury!"

Augusta groaned at the sound of the chirpy voice bellowing from behind. It was Alice's maid who was beckoning for her to return inside for them to resume their preparations.

She stood up, crossing her arms over her chest. "I will have you know that your efforts are in vain because I am not ─ "

"Miss Woodbury is pre-occupied as of the moment." It was Mr. Bridgerton's congenial voice. "She is posing for me. I am certain you and the seamstress can figure out the aspects of her dress by yourselves."

"But Madame Dugray said that her magnificent birthing hips should ─ "

Augusta scowled at the words, raising her arm in one swift motion to finally throw the book in fury. Fortunately for the maid, Benedict's reflexes were quicker. He grasped her wrist firmly, offering a weak smile at the servant as he briskly lowered the governess' arm back to her side.

"I suggest you make your exit right at this moment before Miss Woodbury breaks free from my loving arms."

The maid looked oddly at him then eyed the way the governess' eyes blazed with fury. Without another word, the maid turned away and scurried off.

Augusta felt herself relax when her shoulder slumped. She turned to the Bridgerton. "I do not need you to speak for me, Mr. Bridgerton."

"I am aware of that, Aggie. Now," He was still holding her wrist. He guided her around the swing, Mr. Bridgerton's warm hands on her shoulders as he gently sat her down.

She craned her neck to look up at him, narrowing her eyes at his actions. "You were in earnest about the posing?"

He only smiled at her, took a few steps back, and sat down on the grass. A stick of charcoal was between his fingers as he spared her a glance every once in a while then turn his focus to his sketchbook once again.

"My helping hand does not come in free, Aggie. I will have you know that." 

Mr. Bridgerton momentarily paused in his sketching and glanced up at her. He gave her a brief smile before turning back to his work. Clearing his throat, he asked her nonchalantly. "Lord Wetherby does not object to you posing for me this afternoon?"

"What right does he have to object to it?" Augusta retorted, slamming the book shut. "It is my presence and my time; I shall be the one to choose how to spend them despite it having to be painful hours with you."

Mr. Bridgerton chuckled. "Your words truly tug at my heartstrings, A ─ "

"Thank you." She had blurted out in a soft voice, terrified that he would be unable to hear it if the afternoon breeze blew too hard. When their gazes met, Augusta hurriedly turned her attention into opening the book again. "For liberating me from Madame Dugray's hold."

"Now, now, Aggie," He gloated, a smile hidden somewhere in his tone. "There is no need to get on your knees and declare your undying love for me."

She rolled her eyes. "Splendid. I was not going to any ─ " Augusta was about to stand once again when she saw his pointed look aimed at her.

"Aggie." He warned her. She had been moving the minute he sat on the ground.

"You started it, Mr. Bridgerton."

He pointed his stick of charcoal authoritatively at her. "Sit, smile, read."

Augusta was stunned at the way he had held his ground. It seemed like Mr. Bridgerton was very adamant on practicing his artistic skills that afternoon.

An author ought to consider himself, not as a gentleman who gives a private or eleemosynary treat, but rather as one who keeps a public ordinary, at which all persons are welcome for their money. In the former case, it is well known that. . .

The two spent the rest of the afternoon in the Bridgerton garden ─ Benedict illustrating her figure on his sketchbook with her lulling voice reading off of The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling ─ until dinner was announced and he joined his family while she retreated into the schoolroom.