,wallflower' • BRIDGERTON

chapter 7

【7】

hopes point of view

Another restless night enveloped me, the sheets tangled as I rolled from side to side in my bed. Was it the persistent longing for the touch of Lord Davenport that kept me awake, or perhaps the gnawing nervousness that a whole month had passed without the assurance of marriage?

A blend of both, I reckoned.

In any normal circumstance, a woman, especially one of Queen's ruby stature, would have been wedded in the blink of an eye. Yet, here I was, feeling like an oddity in the grand scheme of things.

But, truth be told, the ball was in James's court. He had to be the one to propose, not me. And the more I pondered, the more uncertain I became about whether I truly desired to marry him. Tossing and turning in my bed, the moon's gentle glow cast its silvery light upon my skin as I groaned, my wild long hair splayed across the pillow.

Frustrated, I sat up in bed, clad in just a white nightgown, and impulsively made my way to the hallway outside my bedroom. The lamps dimly lit up the floral walls. I made my way down the flight of stairs quietly leading to the huge ballroom before I heard my name being called.

I stopped and turned my head to see Daphne standing at the top of the stairs with a confused look.

"Are you alright, Hope?" She asked, her innocent eyes looked down at me. "I can't sleep, I was going to run myself a bath or... drink something warm to help matters," I said. Daphne hummed before I turned around and continued to walk down the stairs.

"Hope!" She called my name again. I stopped and turned my head to look at her. She had a hesitant expression on her face. "May I join you?" She asked. Over the past four years, Daphne and I never had a full conversation, it wasn't because we disliked each other... we just never talked like me and Benedict did.

I hummed before nodding my head.

✑

The two of us both stood in front of this iron oven, having little to no idea how to work it. Daphne held the jug of cold milk in her hands and we tilted our heads curiously, standing in the kitchen. This is where the servants mostly resided.

"We should light it," Daphne suggested.

"Figured," I said before looking around for cut firewood. "Well... go on." She says. I looked at her with squinted brows before crossing my arms.

"I assumed your mother or someone would teach you such things," I said before walking over to a stack of cut firewood sitting next to the iron furnace. I took the wood and placed it inside of a little opening. I huffed before looking around for matches. I nibbled my bottom lip before walking over to a shelf near a window grabbing a box that read "matches".

I walked back over to the furnace and pulled out a match. I scratched it against the box and a flame flickered on the end of the tiny stick. I tossed the match into the furnace and a fire roared before calming.

I breathed out before looking over at Daphne who stared in amazement.

Once we warmed our milk we went into the dining room and sat in chairs next to one another. A silence rang through the air and I sipped the warm milk in the jug. "I see the Duke has been getting comfortable with you," I say, looking over at her. She hummed.