bridgerton imagines.

loathing him: simon basset.

{don't ever say i don't do anything for y'all...
heavy smut warning ahead!!}

to put things shortly,
i hate simon basset.
there is nothing more irritating than a man with an ego two sizes too big.
and to make matters worse,
he has no shame about it.
he wears that sick grin against sick, perfect lips and strides around with his perfect title and perfect posture.
i want to smack it right off of him and humble him ever so slightly.
instead,
i am confined to the arms of the man i'm dancing with,
forced to focus on my every step.
but do not feel pity for the fool.
simon basset does not like me either.
in fact,
i think the man almost despises me.
he told me,
to my face of course,
that i am a haughty woman with an air of entitlement.
i told him if a woman with standards is entitled,
then he's in for a world of trouble and will have no luck in marriage.
simon did not take too well in my insult of his romantic endeavors.
but it was well deserved,
no?
we have made it a point to stay very far away from each other,
up until recently since he has made his return back to england.
i have been living a peaceful life in his absence.
i even almost forgot about his existence entirely,
but of course he had to return and ruin that for me.
it is like everything he does is done to spite me.
how i wish i could smite him in the middle of this ballroom right now.
especially now that i know he purposely joined to dance all so he might have a word with me.
"always lovely to see you, y/n,"
he greets with that wicked smile now that we've exchanged partners,
forcing us to be in close proximity.
"have you forgotten your manners? i am ms l/n to you, duke of hastings."
i say it like it's a curse and i watch him wince.
i knew it would strike right where i wanted,
since simon never wanted to be remotely compared to his father.
sharing the same title is far too similar for his liking.
"you're as kind as i remember,"
he sighs,
growing more frustrated by the second to be in my presence.
"you only have yourself to blame. you do not dance, yet only did so just to tease me."
"please, ms l/n,"
he says with extra emphasis.
"do not flatter yourself. you are many things, but arrogance does not suit you well."
i burn at the insult:
he is trying to cooly play off his intentions for being on this dance floor by naming me vain.
"you would know of being arrogant, wouldn't you? i'll bet you kiss yourself in the mirror every morning."
simon quirks an eyebrow and chuckles.
"you assume i kiss myself but do not assume i have women to do that very act for me?"
my breathing begins to quicken the longer i am forced to be in his company,
dancing to a tune i am growing to hate.
our interlocked hands begin to burn from my anger.
"i pity the women who have been manipulated into being bedded by you."
"you need not pity them. they are satisfied enough."
the image of simon bending to the body of another woman makes my skin turn to cinders with the blush that arises.
i decide i cannot take it anymore,
so i rip my hand from his,
push him away,
and end our dance early.
"many women would bed you, but how many would marry you, duke?"
i know i've gone too far.
i can see the offense flash across his face before it ebbs into something vicious.
before he can utter a reply that will surely damage my self esteem,
i rush away and hide myself amidst the night sky.
the cool air does well in chilling this suddenly sweltering skin of mine.
i do not understand why simon has this effect on me or why it is so intense.
nobody drives me to such unkindness like simon basset.
but what i said was far too harsh and i have half a mind to go back in and apologize for what i left him with.
only then that would mean having to explain what brought that on:
the mere image of simon with another woman.
picturing that brought forth a feeling i have never felt before,
but it was sickening.
it rose from my core,
spilling venom until it curled from my tongue.
jealousy.
i shake my head at the possibility and blame it on the heat inside driving me to such measures to best simon.
i cannot be jealous over simon basset.
how absurd.
***
simon basset is meant to be leaving again soon.
i heard from a friend who heard from her mother who heard from lady agatha.
she also told me that,
when traveling,
simon has been known to indulge in some vices i am not willing to repeat.
and again,
there comes that black, evil feeling of...whatever it is.
i do not allow myself to try and figure it out because validating it would only worsen this situation.
and i hope he has fun on his trip away,
bedding women who do not know the worst parts of him like i know.
kissing the women who are unaware of the cruelty his perfect lips spit.
touching them in ways they cannot possibly appreciate.
my cheeks flush when i settle myself down,
silently asking god to forgive me for thinking such imprudent thoughts.
i do not know what is coming over me.
perhaps i am feeling an immense amount of guilt for insulting simon the way i did many nights ago.
his romantic prospects are none of my business and i should not have deemed him unworthy of marriage.
when i see him next,
i will make it a point to apologize and mean it this time.