Benedict Bridgerton Regency Imagines || Benedict Bridgerton

A Change Of Circumstance (Short Drabble)

Your heart skips as Benedict enters the room, dressed up in the Bridgerton family blues and looking so handsome your stays feel too tight to breathe. You haven't seen him in a few weeks, and you have to look away. It's not proper to stare, especially not at a man betrothed, such as he is. You cast your eyes downwards, fiddling with the chair back you stand in front of, waiting for everyone to file in before you all take your seat for this dinner.

So you startle when a familiar scent fills your nose, and Benedict is taking the seat next to yours.

"May I presume to sit here, Miss y/l/n?" he asks with a friendly and casual air.

"It is your family home Mr Bridgerton," you point out, "I do not believe you need a guest's permission when selecting your seat."

Hopefully, your attempt at polite, formal conversation will not give away just how flustered you feel merely being next to him, a blush most assuredly creeping up your neck.

"I was thinking more of if you can tolerate my company," he responds drolly, a smile tugging at his handsome face.

You have to look away; it's too much to bear. "Of course, you are a most wonderful person," you fluster, smoothing your dress as you sit. "How... how is Miss Reynolds? Are wedding plans progressing well?"

Even out of the corner of your eye, you see a sudden look of surprise flit across his features. "Hmm, perhaps the grapevine that is the Ton is not as powerful as I had imagined...." he opines, his brow knitting.

"What makes you say that?" you are intrigued that is how he chose to answer your query.,

"Miss Reynolds broke off our engagement," he sniffs, grabbing his napkin and shaking it loose before smoothing it onto his lap. "It happened more than a week ago; I thought that old news by now."

Your heart leaps into your throat. "Oh... I," you stutter, "I had not heard; I am so very sorry. You are a good man; you do not deserve to be treated as such."

He smiles warmly. "I do not mind. We were, perhaps in hindsight, not best suited after all," he gets a faraway look in his eye. "She once said art is pointless."

You can't school your loud, shocked gasp. "That is positively untrue!" you decry as the waiter leans in to pour you a red wine. "Especially art as wonderful as yours! She is a fool!" you add fervently.

He says nothing but twists slightly towards you, his hazy gaze so intense you momentarily forget to breathe. Everyone else around the table just melting away in your conscience.

"I am sorry, that was very rude of me," you apologise, shaking your head slightly and placing a hand over your chest. You don't miss how his eyes drop to where it hovers over your thrumming heart.

"Do not be. I am not upset about this change in circumstance," Benedict says slowly as you pick up your wine, his cadence slowing, his timber dropping to a level only you can hear as he leans in fractionally. "Perhaps it wasn't right because she isn't you," he adds barely audibly.

And you are almost overcome, dropping your glass back to the table with a heavy thump, blood pounding in your ears. You must have misheard.

"You heard me," he murmurs, as if reading your thoughts, a lopsided smile spreading across his face.

"Mr Bridgerton!" you exclaim quietly, unable to stop your chest from heaving.

His eyes sparkle with a mischief that you know will be your ruin.

"Drink up, Miss y/l/n," he smirks, nodding to your wine, leaning in even more so you feel his warm breath over your cheek. "There is so very much we need to discuss...."