Entwined Hearts

Avoidance

It had been nearly a month since the ball where Juniper and Benedict first met. Since that day they had tea, Juniper had distanced herself from him. The tea they shared was meant to be lighthearted, but it had left her with confusing emotions. She found herself yearning for his presence, craving the warmth of his embrace, and the tenderness of his kiss. These feelings frightened her, stirring up fears she had buried deep—fears of losing someone else she cherished. In her attempt to protect her heart from potential pain, she had resorted to avoiding Benedict altogether.

Samantha stormed into Juniper's room, hands firmly planted on her hips, her face a mixture of concern and frustration. "Ever since you had tea with Benedict, you've been cooped up in here, reading and having your meals sent up by the maids. What's wrong with you?" she demanded, her voice edged with worry. "Did he do something to you?" she pressed, a hint of concern lining her tone.

Juniper looked up from her book, her face a canvas of hesitation. Slowly, she closed the volume, its cover resting against her lap. "No, he didn't do anything wrong," she said quietly, catching the puzzled look on her cousin's face. "It's me," she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. "I'm scared." She paused, gathering her thoughts before continuing. "He looks at me like I'm just another lady, not a widow. And I'm feeling things for him—things I didn't expect. I haven't known him long, but now I'm afraid. If I get too close, I might lose him, and I... I don't think I can endure that kind of pain again."

Samantha's expression softened as she moved closer, sitting beside Juniper on the bed. "I understand how you feel," she said gently, placing a reassuring hand on Juniper's. "But locking yourself away won't change how you feel, nor will it make him disappear. And think about how he must feel being ignored. He probably has no idea why you're avoiding him."

Meanwhile, at the Bridgerton residence, Benedict stood before his easel, his brow furrowed in concentration. The painting he worked on was of Juniper, inspired by their last encounter, but now it felt like a painful reminder of her absence. He had poured his emotions into capturing her likeness, but the process had only heightened his sense of confusion and hurt. Each brushstroke felt heavy with unspoken questions.

Benedict sighed deeply, setting his brush down with a sense of resignation. His older brother, Anthony, entered the room, his presence a welcome distraction from his spiraling thoughts. "Don't say anything," Benedict said, his tone weary, as he anticipated Anthony's usual advice.

Anthony, however, was direct and to the point. "I wasn't going to give you any grand speeches," he said calmly, his gaze steady. "But you should go talk to her. Whatever's going on, it's clear she needs to see you. And you need to figure out where you stand."

Benedict's gaze was fixed on his older brother, his expression a mixture of determination and frustration. With a nod, he made his decision. "I'll go see her," he declared. He summoned a footman to arrange a carriage without delay, feeling a surge of urgency. Ignoring the mess of paint splattered on his clothes and hands, he strode out of his studio and towards the waiting carriage. The journey to Juniper's residence was a blur of mounting tension and rising anger.

Upon arriving at Juniper's home, Benedict's emotions took a sharp turn. The anger that had simmered beneath the surface now boiled over, fueled by the weeks of being shut out and the uncertainty that had plagued him. As he alighted from the carriage, his frustration seemed to manifest in his every step. He marched up the path to the front door, his boots thudding heavily with each stride. When he reached the entrance, he pounded on the door with a forceful fist, his voice echoing through the stillness. "Juniper!" he called, the sound reverberating in the quiet street.

Inside, Juniper's heart skipped a beat at the unexpected commotion. The sudden, urgent voice calling her name startled her, causing her to bite her lip. "I guess I should talk to him," she murmured to herself, her voice barely audible. With a deep breath, she gathered her composure and slowly rose from her seat. She made her way downstairs, her mind racing as she instructed the footmen and maids to give her privacy.