Benedict fiddled with the cuffs of his sleeves feeling oddly nervous as he stood on the doorstep of the studio. Darkness coated the sky, and anxiety-inducing silence came with it. His hands shook slightly as he held the door's gilded brass knocker. The door soon opened to a smiling Granville standing in an illuminated entryway, the light spilling out and mixing with the dark street.
"Nice to see you, Bridgerton. Come in, come in." Granville said, gesturing to the entryway behind him, where he could hear the muffled revelry.
"Thank you," Benedict said, feeling his anxiety nearly melting away in a smiling Granville's appearance. He followed him along the hallway and came to a halt in a room that he assumed was the studio. He glanced around the room, eyes widening with shock as he took in the scene happening before him. Multiple easels were arranged to sit around two male nude models displayed artfully posing for the artists. He stared for a while taking in the broad shoulders and ripped abdomens. Used to looking at art displaying the female's body, where there was no feminine curves insight and he now felt like he quite understood Da Vinci's obsession with drawing the male body. The strong jawlines and deep-set eyes made a very pretty painting indeed.
"I do not know what I was expecting, but it surely was not this," he said, chuckling slightly as he did so.
Oh, it is simply a gathering of like-minded souls," shrugged Granville. "Here, let me show you what I have been working on. What do you think?" He leads him over to the canvas, passing all kinds of people having casual chatter.
Benedict looked at the sketch on the canvas. It was a charcoal study of the two nude models, draped artfully with sheets and posed against a stone column.
"It's a far cry from Somerset house, I must say."
"I shall take that as a compliment," Granville chuckled.
"And I must say, I'm truly jealous. Is this your life?" Benedict asked incredulously.
"There are advantages to being the second born. Heirs have the responsibility. Second sons have the fun." Benedict smiled at that.
Granville leaned in closer and put his hand on his shoulder pointing towards a spare canvas, "So why not go have some fun". Benedict jumped a little bit at the sudden contact but nodded and replied, "I do think I should like that."
He sat down at the canvas leaving his coat at the back of his chair and smiling to himself about the prospect of the interesting night that lay ahead. He had quite lost track of time and somehow acquired a glass...or a few of wine in the time when Granville made his way towards him. He glanced at his canvas and then took the lit cigar out of his mouth and into his fingertips.
"You have great potential," he said, looking vaguely impressed.
"Oh, it's nothing," he replies, so quick to dismiss his words he nearly cut off the end of Granville's sentence.
"Though for such a staunch critic of others, you certainly lack a clear eye for your own work," replied the man, a faint hint of amusement colouring his words.
"It's the lines. They're not what they're supposed to be," he said, frustrated, running his charcoal covered hands through his hair. He'd been trying to perfect the hands for what felt like an eternity.
"Take the compliment, Bridgerton," Henry drawled with that gravely voice of his. "There is no expectation or judgement here. You left all of that back at Mayfair. You can feel free to be yourself here... whoever that may be. It's what works for me, at least. And I haven't been dissatisfied with my lines in... well, quite some time."
Benedict felt something else being implied in his words but it was late and his senses were blurred by the wine so he couldn't quite tell what it was so he simply just nods and replies nonchalantly with, "Well I've done worse I suppose."
He then looks around himself, seeing the studio completely empty, except for him and Granville, alone. He swallowed nervously, feeling awkward being the only one in the presence of this wonderful curiosity of a man.
He abruptly stands up, collecting his coat from where it was hung over the back of his chair. "I seem to have enjoyed myself too much this evening," he said stepping away from his chair "I should be on my way."
"As you wish. I'll see you out." Henry sighed. He followed him to the front door and as he was about to leave he gently places a hand on him having something to say. Benedict turns around looking him in the eye and observing what a well-built man he was with shoulders of steel and dark, heavy-lidded eyes, similar to the nude models from earlier on. He thought he would quite like to paint him, hoping it wouldn't be long before he would find himself back at this lovely abode.
"But just know you are welcome back any time, for practice, or even conversation," he says with piercing eyes cutting right through him.
Benedict found himself smiling and easily replying, "Of course. See you soon then."
He waved and made his way home, opening the door slowly so as to not make much noise. Benedict made his way upstairs to observe the dark twinkling sky peeking out of the windows whilst he did so. He rather liked this time of night. A soothing silence coated the house with the rest of the household fast asleep and blissfully unaware of where he was. He got changed into his sleeping clothes and found himself easily drifting off to sleep, dreaming of eccentric art studios and nude models with rippled torsos and thighs.
YOU ARE READING
Looking at 'Art'
Romans"I can't tell you how piercingly and endlessly I think about you" Benedict always desired something different. But he never knew exactly what that was exactly. Meeting a curious man who sends his senses spiralling it almost seems as if he has found...
