Moments: One-Shots || Benedict Bridgerton

Moments: Sweet and Spice

As you pull up outside Aubrey Hall, James is sleeping in Benedict's lap, and baby Isobel is asleep in your arms, the gentle rocking motion of the carriage soporific. It's been a long journey from Wiltshire to Kent, and it is now early evening in late summer, dusk beginning to settle in.

"I don't want to wake him," Benedict murmurs, gently petting his six-year-old son's hair.

"It is late," you point out softly. "If you can lift him without waking him, perhaps we can get both our children to our guest rooms undisturbed?"

"Darling, I do so love your optimism," he chuckles. "You do know everyone will be clambering to meet our new arrival, especially my mother," he points out as little Isobel moves slightly in her sleep.

"Can it not wait until morning? Surely they are all busy with evening pastimes, perhaps a spirited round of bridge?" You shrug.

Just then, Violet appears on the front steps, the sound of your approach obviously alerting the household to your arrival.

The jerk of the carriage halting awakens James with a start, and Isobel's eyes fly open, large and concerned.

"So much for that plan," your tone is sardonic as you brush your daughter's cheek reassuringly with your finger. She calms instantly.

"Look at my mother," Benedict says, briefly waving through the window. "She is practically beside herself to meet the next of her grandchildren."

She does indeed look ebullient, rocking on her heels.

A few moments later, as the footmen open your carriage, James, as he did eight months earlier at your Christmas visit, leaps out and runs to his grandmother for a hug. She obliges, but as she does so, you can see her attention is on you, craning her neck to catch sight of Isobel.

Benedict assists you out of the carriage with a steady hand and then looks briefly confused as you hand him Isobel.

"Go introduce your daughter to all of her family," you smile, giving him a peck on the cheek. "I will ensure James does not feel left out."

The look he shoots you is pure devotion.

"You can thank me later if you like," you whisper cheekily with a wink, unable to resist flirting with your handsome husband; something about the sight of him holding your daughter so very stirring.

His mouth falls open even as his pupils dilate rapidly. "You say such things before our daughter's very ears?!" he gasps in mock indignation.

"Oh please, as if that is not the entire reason she exists," you volley back, twisting your mouth into an amused pout as you walk, shoulders touching, towards the house.

"This conversation is not over, my dear..." he warns in a low tone that makes a tiny thrill zip down your spine just before you pull up in front of Violet with warm smiles.

"Mother," Benedict beams with pride, "meet Isobel Violet Bridgerton."

Violet's hand flies to her mouth, and her eyes are immediately glassy.

She kisses Benedict's cheek and then looks down at the bundle in his arms, just three months old.

"Oh! She is the most beautiful creature!" She enthuses, "may I?" She gestures to take Isobel and Benedict's hands her over.

"Hello, my lovely." Violet coos, all of her attention on the babe as she walks indoors.

James patiently stands aside, and you crouch next to him, producing a bonbon from a sachet in your reticule.