Benedict Bridgerton Regency Imagines || Benedict Bridgerton

Riding Tandem

"Sorry, ma'am, he's never done this before," the stableboy seems genuinely contrite. "He is spooked and is refusing to be saddled. Even if we could, I'd be concerned for your safety with his current temperament."

"Well, are there no others I can use?" You ask, pursing your lips, realising you have no other way to travel the five miles back to Aubrey Hall.

"I'm very sorry, ma'am the viscount took the last remaining horse just a minute ago."

"Of course he did," you mutter under your breath, rolling your eyes.

There is a rush of hooves, and you expect it to be the viscount; instead, it's his brother.

"Miss y/l/n. I heard word your horse is spooked and cannot be ridden," Benedict tips his hat gentlemanly.

"Tis true," you confirm ruefully.

"Well then, there is nothing else for it; you will need to share mine," he says, jumping down in one very graceful motion, giving his horse a pat.

"Oh no, I could not do that; I will walk."

"Don't be ridiculous," he exclaims. "If one of us must walk, it shall be me; I have the boots for it for a start." He gestures to his sturdy riding boots, "but we would both get there much faster if we ride together."

"I cannot ride side-saddle with you as well," you point out.

"That's very true. You will have to straddle the horse," Benedict smirks slightly.

"I cannot...." you begin.

"Miss, I promise I will teach you how to hold on. I will be with you the whole time; you will not fall," he cuts in.

"No, I mean, I literally cannot. My dress does not allow for such a position," you point out, feeling slightly awkward.

You watch his eyes slide down your frame and know you are blushing under his gaze.

"Oh, I see," he rubs his chin in thought. "Well, perhaps we can find you some spare clothes..." he looks hopefully to the stableboy, who shakes his head "... or perhaps, perhaps, rip your dress slightly to allow you to sit as needed?"

"No!" You are horrified by the suggestion. You love this dress.

He puts his hand on his hips. "Do you have a better suggestion, miss? I see no other choice," he shrugs.

"Well, there is one other option," you admit quietly, "it is slightly scandalous, but it will at least allow me the dignity of having a useable outfit at the end of the journey."

He looks expectantly at you, awaiting elucidation.

You blush. "I will need to pull up my dress around my waist."

His cheeks redden too. "Oh, I see, so your legs will be...."

"Bare yes," you admit in a whisper.

"I believe I should walk alongside the horse instead, then," he says quickly to save your embarrassment.

"No! I will be alright with us both on the horse if you will be?" You ask, trepidatious.

"Well, it would certainly be quicker," he opines, a mysterious expression on his face like he is both dreading and looking forward to the experience.

You walk up to the horse and give Benedict a business-like nod. "Assist me?"

You squeak as two large, strong hands grab your waist and hoist you up onto the saddle with ease.

You smile down in thanks, then look at him.

"Turn you back, please," you say when he does not move.

"Oh! Certainly," as he does so, his cheeks pink again.