𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒

𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 - 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐆𝐄

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒 ˚｡⋆ ༘˚✧
· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·
𝐱𝐢.

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 was no doubt in Benedict's mind as to whom he wished Athena should marry; yet, he recognized the selfishness of expressing it openly. He yearned for her himself, tormented by the thought of seeing her in Lord Beaumont's arms. The image of another man kissing her soft, red lips and receiving her smiles—always given to him—haunted Benedict, an unrelenting ache in his heart.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words that escaped were not those he wished to convey. "Marry him," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Athena's expression faltered; the frustration in her smile dimmed, replaced by a glimmer of disappointment. Her eyes, once bright with hope, now carried a shadow of sorrow as she looked at him, trying to reconcile his words with the emotions they had stirred.

She stood up straight, her resolve evident in the way she held herself. "I shall then," she said quietly, her voice steady but laced with a hint of sadness. She turned to leave the room, her movements deliberate and composed.

Just as she reached the door, she paused and looked back over her shoulder. "I shall see you at the Somerset Gallery, I presume?"

Benedict nodded, his expression a mixture of resignation and sorrow. "Last I knew, I would be there."

A faint, melancholic smile touched her lips. "Good. It is there that I am to announce my engagement." With that, she stepped through the door and closed it gently behind her, leaving Benedict alone in the quiet room, grappling with the weight of his unspoken words and the poignant finality of her departure.

"Benedict! I had not expected your return," Violet exclaimed, her surprise evident as her second eldest son entered the room and threw himself down beside Hyacinth, the youngest of her brood, who was presently occupied with a plate of macarons.

He pressed his fingers to his temples, his eyes squeezed shut as though plagued by a dreadful headache. Yet, in truth, it was not pain that troubled him, but the thought of Miss Athena Huxley being wed to Lord Beaumont, when he but an hour prior, could have prevented it from happening.

"I do not believe he is well, Mama," Hyacinth observed, her voice muffled by the macaron she was devouring.

Benedict cast her a weary glance before eyeing the tray of macarons. "I assure you, I am perfectly well," he replied, though his tone was somewhat curt, as he swiftly seized a chocolate macaron.

"That was mine!" Hyacinth protested, attempting to retrieve her lost confection, but Benedict had already consumed it with haste.

He smiled, albeit somewhat mischievously, as he struggled to swallow. "I saw no name inscribed upon it," he managed to say, his words still somewhat garbled.

She set the plate upon her lap, her countenance marked by displeasure, and crossed her arms in a petulant manner. "Mark my words, Benedict, I shall have my revenge. Just you wait."

He chuckled, a low, mocking sound. "Oh, I eagerly anticipate it," he replied with a teasing smile, knowing well how such words vexed her.

"Benedict, why are you here, dear?" Violet interrupted, her tone gentle but probing, cutting through the playful exchange between her children.