Benedict Bridgerton Regency Imagines || Benedict Bridgerton

Confessions

Anthony Bridgerton is a great catch. The Ton's most eligible bachelor, indeed. You've danced with him quite a few times; he has even called on you at your home. He's handsome, certainly, intelligent, and engaging. He seems eager to pursue you, your mother beyond keen about the match, and you have no objections to him, as such, so you allow it.

But... he's not the Bridgerton man that has haunted your dreams for the last year. The one you feel watching you at every event, the one you want to know - what makes him tick, what he loves, what keeps him awake at night, what makes him laugh, how his skin tastes. A hum in your chest that wars with your brain, wanting you to walk over to him, cling to him, beg him to kiss you. It's the strangest, most powerful compulsion.

Sadly, he has never pursued you; he just lurks in the shadows watching you all this time. An observance so intense it feels like a heated blanket you wear. But lately, with Anthony's pursuit, he seems to dislike you or perhaps just your closeness to Anthony. Every time you are in Anthony's orbit, he looks like he is chewing glass.

"Does your brother hate the idea of us?" You ask Anthony as he spins you around the dancefloor of the illustrious Bridgerton Ball. Feigning ignorance about your deepest wish to know what those looks mean.

"Whyever would you think that, Miss Y/l/n?" He seems baffled by your question.

"He's looking at us right now," you point out, and as Anthony whirls around, you watch him look over and frown.

"I'm not certain that look is directed at us," he placates.

"It's the third time he has done this, my lord. At different balls. I can only think he hates me, dislikes me as a match for his older brother, perhaps?" You offer, knowing you are manipulating him to get the clarity about the man's true feelings that you desperately seek.

"My brother is nothing of that sort," he dismisses "it must be something else. I shall talk to him when our dance is over, but Miss Y/l/n, I am certain you have nothing to be concerned over. You are quite delightful," he assures with easy flattery as the dance ends. He bows, kisses your hand and agrees to meet you later for another dance.

——

"Brother, a word?" Anthony raises his eyebrow with a flick of his wrist. "Quickly," he adds rather testily when the man in question just shrugs.

He trails after Anthony somewhat reluctantly, akin to a toddler being dragged somewhere they do not want to go but have no say.

They end up in Anthony's study. By instinct, Anthony pours two brandies, handing one to his younger brother.

"Benedict, what's troubling you?"

"You dragged me here to ask that vague of a question?" The man scoffs, the irritation in his voice evident.

"Well, I hardly took you away from a situation you were enjoying," Anthony fires back, "your face was like thunder out there. To the point that others commented about it to me. So yes. I ask again, what is troubling you?"

"Who?"

"Who what?"

"Who commented on my face?"

"Well, if you must know, it was Miss Y/l/n. She is quite convinced you must hate her for the way you were staring daggers at her."

Benedict scoffs.

"Well, do you? Is there something you need to say? I don't believe you suddenly wish to judge what match I make, so there must be another reason. Out with it," he lectures.

"You don't deserve her," Benedict mutters almost silently.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Anthony challenges, raising an eyebrow.