Smoothing out non-existent crumples in his shirt and brushing off invisible dust off his trousers, Benedict makes his way out of the carriage drearily, weighed down by pure dread. At some point earlier on in the week, when he was in better sorts he had somehow agreed to be Eloise's escort and how he regretted it so. He cursed his earlier self for agreeing and saunters over to the event Eloise follows him, seemingly almost as fed up as he is.
"Do we really have to go, brother?" Eloise asks, letting out a melodramatic sigh.
"I'm afraid so. I don't like it particularly much either but that's just how it is. One would suspect something wrong if we didn't show up otherwise."
Eloise rolls her eyes but continues ambling on despite that.
They reach a glass plain crowded with various tables and jam-packed with people. He looks around the people and has to stop himself from audibly groaning when people, multiple in fact, meet his eye and acknowledge him. He felt he never really grew past that childish age where they all hated stuff social gatherings like these, while Anthony thrived, he was like a swan in a pond full of ducks, seemingly elegant but below big-footed and furiously trying to stay afloat.
He scans around desperately trying to find someone whom he would at least find an ounce of companionable conversation with. Someone he could be obliged to talk to without cursing God and praying for help to him simultaneously the entire time. To his delight, he met a familiar pair of dark, deep-set eyes with a penetrating gaze. Wait a minute. He knew that gaze; in fact knew that gaze far, far too well for a normal man. Henry.
Despite being at a comfortable distance away, the man still manages to make him feel terribly nervous. He felt like he could not possibly go over to him, not when he had left with such messy haste. But at the same time, in him he felt obliged to apologise, in fact, he must. Yet he fretted over it, conflicted over what exactly to say- should he pretend nothing happened? He couldn't –he wouldn't, but at the same time it felt far too awkward to visit that event again, not when it was so fresh and raw in his mind. He simply did not know.
"Someone you know, I take it?" Eloise remarks
He jumps out of the trance-like state he was in and pulls words together hastily, "Yes–I do believe–Well–" He pauses briefly, trying to conceive a proper sentence that didn't consist of jumbled words. "Yes, I do. Remember when I was going out for dinner last night with the artist, Sir Henry, that's him." Finally. He felt rather proud of himself for eventually gathering a normal sentence.
"Oh him? Well, whatever are you waiting for, go over to him!" she elbowed her brother with a slight sense of urgency, "No, need to worry about me, I can busy myself with something else." Once she finished speaking, she had that smug sort of smile that siblings had when they were doing something sneaky.
Benedict then realised why she wanted him to go over to him so badly-she had found her escape, her chance for the disappearance.
He smiled with amusement, knowing well what she was up to, "Of course but it would be terribly rude of me not to introduce you to him. Don't worry, he won't keep you long and then you can go off to do whatever it is you so badly want to do."
He caught Henry's eye, raised his hand in greeting and tried his best to stride over casually taking a rather antsy Eloise who hankered to go elsewhere.
"Didn't expect to see you here, Bridgerton, Nice to see you!" Henry said in that lovely low gravelly tone that Benedict had become joyfully accustomed to.
The two shook hands, a much less intimate yet still friendly gesture that the two had shared last night, and he felt a fleeting sense of disappointment that soon went when he realised that with not only so many people present and his sister present two men hugging who had seldom, well never been seen together would be awkward, odd, even.
"Nice to see you here today, Granville. Using his first name too, taking on a more formal tone. He then gestured to Eloise standing impatiently next to him, "This is my dear younger sister Eloise." She greets him and shakes hands with him briefly.
"Pleased to meet you, Sir, I've heard great things about you," she said pleasantly enough, but for those listening carefully it was apparent that there was a great sense of rush from it.
"Pleasure to meet you too. Any relation of Bridgerton, is a dear acquaintance to me." he raises his eyebrows, amused," Does your brother mention me often?"
Before he could get a proper answer, Eloise spots something or someone, and as if pushed by an invisible force, she quickly utters the words, "Oh there's Penepolpe, great time meeting you, but I must go" she picks up her skirts and like a rabbit, she was off. He looks in the same direction, seeing no such person, but doesn't bother mentioning it, she really had a mind of her own when it came to getting away from places and stuff she didn't want to do much.
Henry watched the erratic girl rush off and chuckled, "Quite the character is she?" Benedict agreed animatedly knowing her character far too well and the two men shared a fond smile.
"Now I've met her, how did the saving last night go? '' asks Henry. Benedict remembers the blundering words he said last night while halfway out of the door and cringes.
"Well, I suppose," he apologised awkwardly, "I'm really sorry for going off in such haste, it truly slipped my mind, I apologise for the bad timing". He was lying of course, but how could he tell the truth? Not when it was so...so intimate.
"Do not panic about it, Benedict it truly was ok."
Benedict was glad, he just hoped Henry believed him and didn't suspect more. He didn't seem to anyway, thankfully. "Also thanks for last night anyway, I had a lovely night and was sad to see it get cut short."
Henry agrees and replies," I could say the same. Although Benedict, what do you say about another meeting, just to do art.?" he lowers his voice and leans in, "Of course, not as big and scandalous as the previous meeting, just a cordial and calm meeting between an agreeable few. We are doing body painting, ever heard of it?"
"Can't say I ever have, I assume it is self-explanatory though."
"Pretty much. It is rather New Age, hated by traditionalists, which is why I love it so." he smiles and breaks out into a glorious laugh which, if it wasn't creepily Benedict would happily listen to for hours on loop. "I can assure you no shenanigans will go on, it will be much soothing, however, it needs partners for it to work, so if it isn't much bother, I would like you to be mine
Benedict is rather taken back, rather confused as she wonders, it being set in his own house, surely he has someone else to partner with? He pushes that thought aside, he could ponder it later, "Of course, sounds fascinating, I would be joyed to show up, see you tonight then? What time?"
"Eight. Does that work for you?"
"Yes, that should be good." At the corner of his eye, he sees his mother and Elosie both looking rather disgruntled and seemingly calling for him," It seems my attention is being called elsewhere, it was great to talk to you, Henry, see you then!"
"Oh and please do wear old clothes, it may get messy." Benedict grins and nods already excited about what he was going to do later on.
The two say their goodbyes and Benedict sighs and ambles toward Elosie and his mother, already dreading whatever boring events that lay ahead of him as he made his way from the only interesting man at the event, the only man he truly enjoyed conversation with.
"Benedict, there you are, We've been looking for you, now..." he hardly hears the rest of what his mother says, already drowning it like it was optionable. Having to stop himself from rolling his eyes, he musters his best attempt at an adequate response to what she said and mentally prepares himself for the rest of the morning.
He strains and makes it through truly, truly banal and listless events until finally–finally it was time to head home and he walks home cheerfully, mulling over tonight, as he felt he could hardly wait.
YOU ARE READING
Looking at 'Art'
Romance"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...
