Bridgerton Imagines

Love and Tea // B.B

It had been the tea.

It had to have been the tea.

Benedict had been fine all morning, not a hair out of place and that had all changed by the evening. In passing, he had mentioned to you that Colin had offered him a cup of tea he had brought back from his vast and various travels. It wasn't something you thought of twice; a simple acknowledgement and a question of taste, and the very notion of Colin's tea left your mind.

It never re-entered it until your husband began babbling of stars and the night sky at the dinner table with his family and honoured guests present.

As Benedict continues to ramble, unaware of those around him, you feel the evening begin to slow. The dinner becoming almost unbearable as you think of what the night could have in store.

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At the sight of your husband sprawled across the window seat, babbling nonsense to the night sky, a rush of fondness washes over you. Turning to his younger siblings, you announce, "Colin, Eloise – go to bed. I've got him from here."

"Are you sure?" Eloise asks warily; her tone is concerned but the way she edges towards the door suggests that she is more than ready for the night to be over.

"Very sure. We shall see you both in the morning. Colin?"

"Yes?"

"Make sure that any more of that tea is hidden away. I won't be held responsible for my actions should more be found."

Thoroughly chastened, Colin nods once before leaving the room. You wait for that all-too familiar click of the door before turning to your husband. "What am I going to do with you?" You wonder aloud, joining your beloved on the window seat.

"Love me?" Benedict suggests with a delighted smile.

"I already do."

Benedict grows more gleeful at your words; a crow of excitement falling from his lips as he launches himself at you, pushing you flat against the cushioned seat as he sprawls on top of you. A startled laugh leaves you at the unexpected position. Benedict smiles at you from where his chin is perched atop your chest. You run a hand through his hair, scratching his scalp, thrilled at the way Benedict leans into your touch.

Benedict yawns. Your hand slips down, cupping his cheek. "You're tired, my love," You murmur quietly. "Let's go to bed."

Benedict shakes his head, refusing to move. "You're warm," He whines, pushing his face into your neck. "I don't want to let you go."

"Why don't we make a deal?"

"What deal?"

"If we go to bed now, you can hold me the entire night."

"Promise?" Benedict asks; his head leaving your neck, holding your gaze as he raises a single pinkie finger.

Hooking your pinkie with his, you say, "Promise."

To seal the deal further, Benedict drops a kiss to the top of your finger before climbing off you.

Relief settles over you when you enter your bedroom. The curtains have already been drawn and a fire crackles away happily, providing some much-needed warmth. Benedict sits on the edge of the bed; a dopey smile on his face as he watches you potter about the bedroom, grabbing a pair of pyjama trousers from one of the many drawers.

"Arms up," You command lightly, tugging at the hem of Benedict's shirt after undoing the first three buttons of his dress shirt.

"Surely you would take me to dinner first before trying to get me naked and into bed," Benedict gasps, mock affronted as he does as he's told, holding his arms above his head as you pull the shirt over his head.

He smiles at you dopily once he's free from the confines of his clothes. His eyes shine with the love he has for you, the blue as bright as the clearest sky. It all comes over you rather quickly, the rush of fondness and adoration. It sweeps you up, any words of sentiment lost on the tip of your tongue as you try to reach the surface of all of your emotions. Instead of replying with a witty retort, you bend down, pressing a chaste kiss to Benedict's mouth.

"What was that for?" Benedict asks quietly, bringing a hand up to his lips, still feeling the light pressure from your kiss.

You shrug, beginning to remove your dress, ever thankful you asked the seamstress to make it easy to take off. "No reason," You smile, "Just because I love you."

"I love you too," Benedict automatically replies; the words meaning just as much now as they did the first time he ever uttered them to you. He goes to say more, but a yawn steals away the words.

The bed dips as you join him under the covers. Your eyes feel heavy from the strain of the night, and your pillows are so soft you can feel yourself begin to drift away.

"I do believe I was promised something," Benedict whispers in the dimly lit room.

"Oh?" You breathe, playing dumb to the earlier promise.

Benedict takes it upon himself to gather you in his arms. In this position, you're half-sprawled across his chest with his arms wrapped tight around your waist. Your face is pressed against his bare shoulder; the familiar, spicy scent of his cologne washing over you as it pushes you further to sleep.

As sleep comes to claim Benedict, his arms wrap that little bit tighter around your waist, keeping you pressed close against him as he murmurs, "That's much better."

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Benedict wakes slowly; his head feeling heavier than usual as he struggles to open his eyes.

In a rush, the previous night comes flooding back. The tea, the dinner, the artwork that followed... Benedict throws an arm over his face, groaning in mild embarrassment at his behaviour last night. Humiliation simmers deep within his gut as frustration at his younger brother begins to rise in earnest.

"How are you feeling?" A soft and soothing voice chimes close by.

"Mildly embarrassed," Benedict answers honestly, cringing as flashes of the evening flood to the front of his mind. He removes his arm from his eyes, only now deigning himself worthy enough to look you in the eye. An amused smile adorns your lips as you take in the sight of husband; hair dishevelled and eyes alight with tentative curiosity. "Was it awful?" He asks, turning onto his side to face you.

A fond laugh breaks free as you shake your head. "Not as awful as Anthony's bungled attempt at an engagement." You roll your eyes before reassuring your husband. "Darling, you were joyful and artistic, but very free with your speech. I recall something about stars and how the world shall bear witness to your talent."

Benedict cringes, trying his best to resist the urge to hide his face in your nightgown.

"Let me ring for some tea," You whisper, running a comforting hand through Benedict's hair. "You'll feel better after some proper tea."

"Don't go yet," Benedict groans, pushing his face into the skirt of your nightgown. "Let me hold you for a moment." Benedict lays an arm across the tops of your thighs, his hand clenching at the fabric of your nightgown to keep you in bed with him. He inhales the delicate floral scent of your perfume; the familiar aroma of roses washing over him, already soothing him to a calmer state of mind.

Neither of you know how you long you both remain in bed. The clock ticks away aimlessly; it's seconds, minutes and hours ignored completely as you enjoy the time together. It's only as Benedict's stomach begins to rumble that you think about rousing.

"Shall we ring down for some food?" You suggest, not wanting to make the first move and break the blissful bubble.

Benedict sighs, sitting up against the headboard. "I suppose we must."

"Tea and whatever the kitchen can rustle up for us?"

"Sounds wonderful," Benedict replies, kissing you for the first time that morning. "I know one thing to come out of last night," Benedict announces firmly once he has kissed thrice more, "I'll never trust Colin with another cup of tea again."