The Artist's Muse

Divided

As the season nears the midpoint, many have to speculate if they are going to receive a proposal this season. It appears many young misters are delaying choosing a wife. Why, one may ask? Only the men know.

Nonetheless, the upcoming ball is sure to be interesting. The main event of the night is sure to be the love triangle between an artist, a Bridgerton, and a lady. Who shall emerge triumphant? Only time will tell. I for one shall be enjoying the show...

LADY WHISTLEDOWN'S SOCIETY PAPERS, 26 AUGUST 1815

x.x.x

Benedict was grateful the season was turning toward the end. The stuffy balls. The forced smiles. The eyes watching his every move. It was tiring and an inconvenience. Enough people gawked at him when it was not the season. He did not appreciate the increase of attention he received during the season. Perhaps if he did wed, that would become one less nuisance.

Except the woman he wished to wed was being whisked around the dancefloor by another man. A man Benedict had perplexing feelings toward. Feelings that Benedict didn't permit himself to explore.

As the song ended, Benedict watched Flor and Lander turn to clap for the orchestra before Flor slipped her hand into the crook of Benedict's arm and walked with him to where Benedict stood. Benedict finished his drink and turned to leave before they could reach him, but as he was turning, he caught the disapproving gaze of Lady Danbury. Benedict's jaw clenched as he turned back toward the couple approaching him.

"Benedict, you look dashing tonight," Lander commented when he and Flor reached him. "Much more clothed than the last time I saw you."

Benedict felt himself flush as Flor laughed. It was a joke, but could she know how much truth there was to it? Lander had said they lived their own lives, but it had merely been a painting session. Surely Lander would not have told her it was more than that? It would be a lie. A dangerous lie.

"Ah, well, I found it quite educational to spend time as the model rather than the painter," Benedict sputtered, hoping he didn't sound as frazzled as he felt.

"Perhaps we should do it more often," Lander replied with a wink. Benedict wasn't sure how to interpret that gesture.

Flor reached out and touched Benedict's arm. "How about you and I take a turn on the dancefloor when the orchestra returns?"

"I would love that," Benedict truthfully said as he tore his gaze from Lander's.

Flor smiled softly. "Lovely. I'm going to fetch a refreshment and I shall meet you here momentarily."

"I will be awaiting your return," Benedict told her. She nodded to each of the men before she disappeared into the crowd.

Lander slid into the small space beside Benedict, their shoulders brushing. Even through their jackets, Benedict could feel the heat from Lander's skin. They stood in silence for several moments, watching the mingling potential couples before Lander spoke.

"Perhaps next time, I shall be the model. And I'm brave enough to do it without the sheet." Benedict looked at him sharply. Lander winked. "Can't let you have all the fun."

Benedict cleared his throat and turned away. He had to appear at ease. Lady Danbury was watching his every move. She would be the first to become suspicious even if she might not believe it at first. Benedict could not stand to take any chances. People had been out to death for less.

"I do want to warn you and say that I love Flor dearly. I will do whatever I must to protect her as she has no one to do so for her now."

"Yes, she told me she had no family worth any account."