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It took only a a mere few moments of us entering the nights ball before the duke alongside Lady Danbury had spotted us "A dance, Miss Bridgerton?" He smirked handsomely offering her a hand.
She turned to me as if asking my permission for her to be seen with him once again. Most likely due to her recent 'proposal' from Lord Berbrooke. Despite the reluctance in my heart at the thought of them pressed together, I nod and watch as he leads her to the floor.
Lady Dandury shrugs slightly "I shall need someone else to seek me a glass of ratafia, then. Lord Bridgerton, do me the honor?" She asks already placing his arm in hers.
"Of course, Lady Danbury" he smiles politely despite the helpless look he sends me and Benedict. Mama steps away, Colin beside her as they begin to search the room for anything amusing.
Here I stand, in a ball full of suitors, next to my younger brother. Of whom I have no intention of leaving. I look to see his face contorted in discomfort "Buffet?" I propose. A large grin breaks onto his face and soon I am being dragged by my arm to the laid out food.
I spend most of my night with Benedict, the two of us moving between scoffing our faces with the delicacy's laid out and leaning beside each other laughing as the debutantes attempt to woo potential suitors. Though my brother helps to sooth the pain, I find my eyes tending to drift to Daphne and Simon. Their smiles scorching my soul.
As we hold our giggles Anthony joins us placing a hand onto Benedict's shoulder, pushing him forward "Go dance with your sister" he orders.
Our confusion was evident as Benedict asks "Why?" It was a common occurrence for Anthony to tell us what to do but it rarely had anything to do with Daphne.
"Because I asked you to!" He exclaims watching until Benedict had practically peeled Daph from the arms of the duke.
My eyebrows furrow as Anthony straightens his lapels, examining the room "something wrong brother?" My question hangs unanswered and I am left standing in the corner of the ballroom, basking in my own company.
I lull for a moment, admiring the ladies gowns and the scarce polite gentleman's as they parade on the dance floor. My interest and curiosity is peaked as I spit Anthony, Simon and Lord Berbrooke mulling together.
I leave my post, my heels delicately tapping against the floor I first hear Simons voice, rather aggravated "He was careless with his honor. He attempted something last night I shan't dignify with words when your sister planted a facer"
