The Artist's Muse

A New Season Begins

The 1815 season has officially begun, with ladies keeping a firm eye on this season's most sought-after catch: Mister Benedict Bridgerton. While he has managed to keep the ladies—and their mothers—at bay, one must wonder what his intentions are for the season.

As the second eldest Bridgerton brother, one would suspect he would be the next in line to be betrothed. But as he attends each society event, he does not appear to be interested in the eligible members of the ton. What will it take for a potential suitor to sweep Mister Bridgerton off his feet?

A monumental gesture?

Or perhaps a more subtle approach?

LADY WHISTLEDOWN'S SOCIETY PAPERS, 17 JULY 1815

~~~~~

Benedict Bridgerton despised balls. Each time he attended one, every available female and her mother descended upon him when they noticed him enter the room. It was as though he were the prey in a hunt rather than a human being. If not for his family, he would have been perfectly content to never step foot inside another ballroom again, or any event held by the ton for that matter.

Francesca released Benedict's arm, smiling as her mother ushered her away into the crowd. Benedict straightened his jacket, his eyes scanning the room, as he attempted to ignore the whispers and the giggles. He would endure the torture until he was sure his sister was able to continue without him.

"Are you going to take a chance and fall in love this season, brother?" Colin's voice asked in Benedict's ear.

Benedict turned to face his brother, giving him a reprimanding look. "The affairs of my love life are of my concern only. I believe you should be concerned for your own well-being. Mother will turn her attention to you soon."

"Not if I can keep them on you until you are wed," Colin replied calmly. His eyes were roaming the room, but Benedict could not spot who he was searching for.

"You keep believing that, brother, and perhaps one day it shall come to fruition." Benedict spotted a chestnut-haired girl and her mother making their way confidently toward him. "Pardon me. I think it is time to take my leave."

"Coward," Colin muttered as Benedict passed him to step into the hallway.

He hurried down the hall as fast as he could without anyone assuming he was running away from the ball. That was precisely what he was doing, but he did not need rumors of him being a coward being printed in the papers or whispered in the gentleman's club. He would not allow the word coward to ever be attached to the name Bridgerton.

Turning a corner, Benedict came to a set of closed wooden doors. He glanced over his shoulder to ensure no one was watching before he opened one and slipped inside.

The full moon outside the large windows cast dark shadows across the room. As Benedict slowly stepped further into the room, he discovered he was standing in an ornate library.

He walked toward the wall nearest him, admiring the artwork that hung from floor to ceiling. Even in the dim light, he could appreciate the quality of each piece. Someone had taken the time to painstakingly select each piece so they complemented one another. That in and of itself was admirable.

Benedict slowly walked from painting to painting, squinting to try to see the fine details of each, as the door swung open and whispers of the party reached him again. He mentally cursed, turning to face whoever had entered the room. There was no escaping a determined potential suitor. Or their mother. It was their mother's that he was truly terrified of. They were absolutely relentless.