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London, England - 1813
Dearest gentle reader,
It is often said that those who marry in haste must repent at leisure, a sentiment that is clearly shared by Miss Daphne Bridgerton, who has apparently rejected not one, not two, but three proposals already this week. Some believe she is showing admirable forethought in her deliberations, but I would venture a different conjecture, that she, like this author, is still waiting on the only suitor of note. Much like our dearest Betty Morrigan, it appears she may die waiting...
Birds chirping in the distance. A gentle breeze blowing through the curtains. And the morning sun raising a golden cast amongst the room. She rolled onto her side, letting out a deep breath before she finally opened her eyes. When they opened, the soft hazelnut eyes of the otherwise inferior bachelor vying for her affection had been gazing back at her with a delicate smile hanging from his lips.
He was swept away by the sound of his own voice. He leaned up on his elbows, peering over her. "Stay?" He asked, lacing their fingers together. All they were was skin and bone as they laid together, tangled underneath those satin sheets.
He patiently waited for her answer. They had been trained to get along, forever going with the flow. They had just accepted that this was the path laid out for them. They were on the long road and last night had been the final stretch. But in this moment, he was friction against her skin.
She rolled over onto her other side, where her heart was begging her to go. The sun peered in through the window. She blinked furiously, trying to adjust to the light. When they finally did, a familiar pair of sparkling ocean blues were already staring back at her. Her lips naturally turned upward.
Benedict...
His name had echoed through her mind in whispers. Silence filled the air as they laid there taking each other in. His eyes flickered down to her lips and he wanted nothing more than to pull her in closer. She noticed the way his eyes were drawn downward and she almost gave in. There was a voice in the back of her head hinting at a familiar feeling...
Home. It was all the confirmation she needed to follow his lead and lean in. She followed him... All the way back home to where she belonged.
There were just a breath away when Betty jolted up in her bed in distress. Her chest fell in and out with heavy breaths. Her eyes darted around the room with panic as she looked to the spots in the bed next her. Relief set in as they turned up empty and it had all just been one wild dream.
A dream. It was just a dream. She clutched a hand over her heart as if that would help to protect it. She couldn't help but to feel something had changed. She inhaled sharply. Her heart was beating to a different tune.
It was new, unfamiliar, treacherous.
Poppy barged in soon after, a corset and dress in each hand. She laid the garments out and tidied up the room as Betty slipped into her bath. The warm, soothing water did nothing to help Betty relax. She did her best to ignore her anxiety as the minutes ticked by, but she could not wipe the deep frown from her face.
