𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔; benedict bridgerton

𝟎𝟓.

_________________
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

IT WAS CERTAINLY A SURPRISE to society when, after the ball just given by the Bridgertons, Lady Whistledown didn't write down her opinion for everyone to read.

The whispering diminished and with it Victoria's peace increased, she simply loved the proportion. There was nothing more comfortable than getting rid of those wrong opinions once in a while.

"I want to learn French one day, it sounds better than piano," Victoria commented thoughtfully, while reading a language book.

Spring had arrived, and seeing the delicate or wild flowers blooming all over London, she felt that London was her place now, where she could grow and undergo a metamorphosis that would leave her mature and experienced.

Jill and Glinda looked at each other, reflecting on Victoria's happy mood. Perhaps finding a peaceful state was her destiny, but that didn't mean she would give up trying.

"I'm sure you can, dear," replied the older woman. "We just have to wait until the season is over and we'll hire a teacher, but if you prefer, you can study from books now."

The younger woman smiled at the suggestion and decided to close the book, as she had already spent too much time on the same activity and she was one of those people who always needed to be doing something different in her spare time.

"I think I'm going to spend some money on a carriage today. I would like to enjoy the city on my own," Victoria said with a cheerful, velvety tone in her almost always bossy and irrepressible voice.

"That's a great idea. Jill and I will take the opportunity to try on a new dress, the balls never end," exclaimed Glinda happily. Victoria quickly hailed a carriage after getting ready for the ride wearing her favourite blue dress covered by a coat in the same shade, as she was slightly chilly.

The cool, comforting air hit her full in the face as she stepped out onto the street. Her face had probably turned red, but a smile still insisted on staying on her face.

"Sounds good," she thought to herself.

Watching the city bustle with people and carriages going up and down the streets, she reflected that all that movement was good for herself.

Even though he tried to avoid it, his heart beat fast when he saw her, her hair loose with a lone, unruly braid, and her eyebrows always arched and seemingly thoughtful about planning something.

Their gazes crossed and froze on each other, Benedict with a rebellious smile and Victoria glaring at him with a certain anger.

Her competitive personality couldn't help but realise that despite the boy's apology the week before, she still wanted to cultivate a rivalry that was fresh but not at all dangerous. Slowly, paying attention to the traffic full of horses, carriages and people, Benedict approached while Victoria asked the coachman to wait for her, certain that she would have a brief, acid dialogue with the man.

"Hello, Miss Fernsby," Victoria greeted him warmly, positioning herself in front of him.

Despite Benedict's provocation, she remained calm and assured. How could she avoid being ready for a little provocation?

"Mr Bridgerton, what's the name of your horse?" She greeted more gently, but with more interest.

Benedict analysed her in an unsuccessful attempt to unravel her thoughts. Victoria was like the Greek myth Pandora's box, full of surprises.

"Edmund, like my father, why are you asking?"

"No reason, just curiosity," clarified Victoria had good humour in her voice.

"Are you out for a walk?" He asked, interested in her umbrella and the carriage parked in front of the Fernsby house.

"I'm going to the park," she replied seriously, with some coldness.

It was starting to get awkward in Victoria's opinion, but Benedict, who had learnt to be sarcastic and teasing from Anthony, didn't seem to mind how long the conversation lasted.

Before he could stand it, Benedict asked the question he had been wanting to ask for a long time.

"Why are you so angry?" The question was asked simply and not at all presumptuously.

For the first time around Benedict, Victoria didn't feel her face flush or anger boil up inside her. She knew it was a provocation, but something about the way it was done didn't bother her.

"Oh, maybe because you annoy me all the time," she replied seriously, the words slipping out and her expression returning to the angry one it had at the beginning, "and I hope we don't have any more encounters like that..."

Victoria's suggestion was the opposite of what she felt, deep down in her heart she wanted to see Benedict again, even if it was to provoke or stress herself out. What they had was... simply different.

"Have a nice ride," Benedict greeted with a bow, without showing any reaction, and rode off quietly.

Victoria smiled to herself, watching the boy in the distance. Nothing in the way she saw him had changed, but she realised the transformation her relationship with him had undergone.

Try as he might, Benedict was now one of the people who couldn't get Victoria off his back. They both loved a challenge and what they had built up so far was totally true and starting to get a little annoying.

Remembering the coachman who had been waiting for her for apparently a quarter of an hour, she apologised and climbed gracefully into the carriage.

It was amazing how her mind was always filled with deep thoughts and reflections. She felt that London at the moment was the right place to reflect. There were still many things she would like to do or meet, and Benedict had just become one of them.

She tried unsuccessfully not to smile at the memory of his bright, shrewd green eyes. There are things you can't control and apparently Benedict's eyes were one of them. Holy madness!

Looking at the green leaves on the trees as she arrived at the park, she smiled and quickly left when she glimpsed a paint shop. One of her favourite places were these shops that had everything she needed to create.

Now she was just thinking about how the paint would look when it touched the canvas. Victoria was surprised when she noticed Igor Kirby walking past, but she still preferred to focus on the materials in front of her rather than greet him, unless, of course, he entered the place.

She was tempted to start painting again and although she planned to start with the majestic river in the park, but, unconsciously, bought a green paint. Later, perhaps, she would realise that the bottle contained exactly the colour of Benedict's eyes.