When The World Is Free || Benedict Bridgerton

Chapter 11: Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien

Portsmouth, UK, September 1939

Waking up in Benedict's arms for a second time is a thoroughly different experience, a handsome smile creasing his face.

"Good morning," he rumbles, and you feel it buzz in your cheekbone resting on his pectoral.

"Good morning," you whisper, tilting to kiss his lips.

You want to burrow into his warmth, his naked body, curl around him like a vine. Forget the world; just exist with him here in this warm cocoon. His hand slides up your back, pulling you snugger into him as you kiss - languid, sensual, tongues touching, a stirring you can feel between your legs and in him where your thigh is draped over his lap.

Just as you are about to get lost in this, in him, there is a rapid-fire knocking on the door.

"Wakey, wakey, lazy bones! Let me in!" Eloise's voice calls, muffled in the corridor outside.

You both swing your heads towards the door, then back to each other in almost comic unison, jumping apart as if burned, exchanging panicked looks as you scurry out of bed.

"Give me a minute," Benedict grouses loudly for her benefit.

Then, there is a flurry of hushed movement as you fling open suitcases and rapidly throw on the nearest clothing. 'Bed!' you mouth, signalling for him to help. You work together in unison to make the bed, not to the point it doesn't look slept in, but certainly not the tangle of sheets from tumultuous lovemaking that it was. Belatedly, you realise you should have put a makeshift pile on the floor as if he slept there.

It's less than a minute from when you were naked in each other's arms to Benedict opening the door to Eloise, you on the other side of the room attempting nonchalance. She wanders in, looking blissed out but also a little worse for wear, an apparent hangover clinging to her edges as she retrieves a hairbrush from her suitcase. You want to ask how her night was, but her frown stops you.

"Doesn't look like anyone slept on the floor..." she comments suspiciously as she pulls up to the mirror.

"I am, in fact, capable of tidying away blankets and pillows after I use them, sister," Benedict sighs and rolls his eyes, looking out the window. "It is what I was doing when you so rudely woke up half the hotel, in fact," he lies.

Eloise sticks her tongue out at him in the mirror, which he roundly ignores.

"Your brother is a true gentleman," you defend, staying intentionally vague, standing behind her and using the mirror as well to touch up your appearance.

It's your turn to receive the Eloise look of scornful derision before you steer to a new, safer topic.

"So, how was your night with Phillip?" you tease affably.

"Oh, he's wonderful," a wistful look claiming her face. A secret little smile you have never seen before. "We had such a memorable night."

"Aaaand I don't need to hear this," Benedict deadpans. "I'll see you ladies downstairs for breakfast..." is his parting shot as he heads for the door.

But as Eloise leans down to grab a hairpin, launching into a whole story, he winks at you in the reflection, and your heart skips a beat.

——

"So, ready to party your life away in London?" Eloise chirps as the train trundles through rural Hampshire a few hours later. "It's not Paris, but it will do...."

"I thought we were going to your country home?" you frown.

"Well, yes, for a few days. But we can head back up to Bridgerton House for the weekend," Eloise grins. "Phillip might be in town by then...." You chuckle at her lack of subtlety. "And we can find you a nice man!" she adds.