Chapter Text
Through the Desert, Repenting
Part of the Wild Geese Series
Once she dreamed of being a part of a family like this, Sophie recalled. Such a large, beautiful group of people. They greeted each other at the start of the day with a cheerful ‘Good morning,’ and never sounded like they were an imposition to each other. Sophie could not imagine growing up in a home where you could run into another family member every few hours yet still have space enough that you could breathe by yourself, and so every encounter could remain pleasant.
To even work for one was a dream.
They were a controlled chaos—a nightmare for a young assistant whose sole job was to organize and maintain Violet Bridgerton’s life. Mrs Bridgerton was throwing a party in three days. She also had committee meetings for the various societies that she had joined. Sophie took a deep breath.
She could do this. She could make this happen. It was a mantra she repeated to herself on the way to her first interview with the Bridgerton matriarch, and the positive self-talk had done wonders for her. It would work again now that everything was closing in on her.
Anthony Bridgerton suddenly arrived from their countryside family home. Unexpected, but never unwelcome, Mrs Bridgerton said to her. Sophie would need to rearrange the calendar to make an hour available for tea with her boss’ eldest.
Colin Bridgerton misplaced an important envelope. Somehow. From his desk. It had his passport, flight and accommodation details. He was not in her job description, and she could easily ignore the problem. But when her responsibility was Violet Bridgerton’s life, then that meant she would be crawling around Colin’s bedroom at 9AM so that Colin would not sit pouting in his mother’s office because his travel would be delayed.
And what large household would not have the youngest fighting each other? Eighteen year old Hyacinth argued with a twenty year old Gregory, chasing him down the stairs with a fluffy slipper. She hoped no one hurt themselves and broke a bone. That would be quite a terrifying afternoon trying to rearrange Mrs Bridgerton’s calendar for what would be at least four hours in A&E.
And of course, of course, what a pity for the injured party. But Sophie truly could not afford it if she would be required to extend today. She had an exam coming up, and very little free time to catch up on her reviews.
She spotted the brown manila envelope sitting vertical against the wall just behind the desk. Sophie cried out in relief, then reached for the newfound documents and hurriedly stood up. She hit her head on the tabletop, muttered a curse and rubbed the sore spot. And then she more carefully crawled backwards to ensure clearance, then got up from the floor.
With as much poise as she could, Sophie Baek ran down the stairs and prayed she would not be the one to cause the visit to the A&E.
The family room was chaotic with the noise that erupted there. Mrs Wilson stood right outside curtly coordinating the staff as they brought in little cakes and jellies that the Bridgertons simply inhaled with their tea. When Mrs Wilson saw her carrying the priority document, and gave her a small smile. Sophie swept into the room with everyone talking at once.
“Mrs Bridgerton,” she said, clearing her throat. “Colin.”
The staff was moving around in a bustle, trying to bring in food at the pace that it was consumed.
“Maam, excuse me.”
No one turned to her. And then, Mrs Wilson took her by the arm and pulled her aside. “They will not be ready to listen to anyone until a half an hour into their little reunion,” the head housekeeper told her. And then she propelled her to a corner and handed her a cup of coffee. “Sit,” Mrs Wilson instructed. She motioned to a member of the staff, then took a small dish from their tray and handed it to Sophie. “You skipped breakfast again. Get something in your stomach while they’re winding down.”
A half an hour to wait when she could be ticking off items from her checklist. Sophie sighed, then popped the tart in her mouth and drank her coffee. She narrowed her eyes at the chaos at the table where the Bridgertons gathered, then sank in her chair and started looking through the schedule for the week. She might as well make the half hour productive.
As she scanned through the schedule on Mrs Bridgerton’s calendar, Sophie found the problems before they arose. In three days, Gregory’s dental appointment clashed with a meeting at Eton that he had asked Violet to attend. Sophie emailed the dentist office and requested to move the appointment to the day after. Getting Gregory on any form of local anesthesia the day before Eton was recipe for disaster.
An email notification popped up, and Sophie noted the cancellation of the flower orders for the party. She quickly replied to the email and asked what happened, then started pulling up the supplier list to find another option. She copied all the email addresses of the next half dozen providers then requested for a quote for the scale of the party.
Since she was already in the inbox, Sophie answered three of the emails that were within her purview.
Another email came through, and it was from Hyacinth asking for the college brochures that she accidentally left in the Uber. Sophie pulled from her OneDrive where she had saved the scanned documents, then sent Hyacinth access to the folder.
“You are the best!” Hyacinth answered quickly. Of course she was online.
“The brochures are also sitting in the printer, ready for you to grab at your convenience,” Sophie typed back.
She had been taking care of herself for almost a decade. She knows what anyone will ever need to know and will address them before anyone cared to ask. That was as natural as breathing.
Mrs Wilson tapped her shoulder once again, this time with a sandwich. “This one is more filling. Eat it.”
Mrs Bridgerton craned her neck from her seat at the head of the table. Before her boss said her name, Sophie was already at her feet.
“I’ll eat on the train,” she said.
“So you said yesterday,” Mrs Wilson muttered from behind her as Sophie started making her way to her employer.
“Sophie, dear,” she said, as her assistant approached, “have you seen my glasses?”
Sophie snapped closed her tablet, then stopped by Violet’s side. She leaned forward, and said quietly. “On your head, maam.”
“Oh. Oh dear.” Violet pulled down the glasses. Thirty seconds later, she was looking to her left, then her right. “And my phone. Did I leave it in the office?”
“In your hand, maam.”
To the right side of her employer, Anthony did not look up from his newspaper.
“I hope that you have locked your assistant in a proper contract, mother. None of us will have the patience for this.”
Flustered, Violet looked up at Sophie. “Do not listen to him, maam. Any one of your children will be happy to do what I do for you. They all love you.”
“Well, since you have such sharp eyes,” Colin began.
Sophie quickly walked to the corner chair and retrieved the brown envelope, then returned to Violet’s side and handed the documents to Colin. “It slid from your table down to the floor,” Sophie said.
“You are heaven sent!” Colin exclaimed. “I’d kiss you, but I’m afraid mother would whack me on the head.”
“I’d do it before she even gets to you,” Sophie replied wryly. “Mrs Bridgerton may assign the task with me anyway.”
Eloise, the Bridgerton closest to her age, rolled her eyes. “If Sophie ever resigns, this family will collapse within forty-eight hours,” she declared.
“If it takes her that long, then she’s being generous to you lot,” Francesca grumbled, then gave Sophie a sheepish smile.
She crossed her arms. “Well, just be grateful that I need this job so you’re not going to collapse any time soon.”
The front door opened.
Violet looked up. Eloise’s eyes widened. Daphne smiled. Francesca squealed uncharacteristically. Hyacinth squealed characteristically. Colin and Gregory high fived each other.
Anthony folded his newspaper and finally looked up. No one has yet given her an explanation as to why the eldest Bridgerton son just appeared unscheduled. Well, they did not owe her an explanation, but it would have been nice since the organization of Violet Bridgerton’s entire life lay in her hands. Technically, she should be earning more by now because she was not one woman’s personal assistant but an entire clan’s.
She had no stomach to actually ask for a pay increase, of course. Who was she kidding?
Sophie turned to her boss, and saw Violet rising to her feet, tears in her eyes.
Intrigued, she turned to the door.
And oh.
Oh.
OH.
Suddenly, her throat needed clearing. She swallowed, but it was not enough to ease her airway. Sophie hurried to her corner and picked up the lukewarm coffee and downed the whole thing. Instantly regretted it. The caffeine hit her near empty stomach and her heart began palpitating to the point that the edges of her vision turned black.
Her employer abandoned all dignity and threw herself into the new arrival’s arms.
Anthony’s face cracked into the most gigantic smile she had ever seen. Colin turned to everyone and began talking loudly.
A – C.
Sophie remembered a few emails that she had easily filed away as personal and did not need her attention. The absent Bridgerton son that had never been missing at all, only living a high life establishing a fancy art career in Europe. The B of the Bridgerton alphabet, the second son.
Benedict Bridgerton.
And how could she be sweaty already when the coffee she chugged had not even been hot? Sophie settled into her seat, vanishing into the background as the rest of the family came forward to greet their brother.
Family reunions belonged to family, after all.
Sophie tried to tear her eyes away at the emotional sight of this large family that she had watched, and loved, for the last three years as they reunited with someone they so clearly missed and adored. She searched the room and found all the staff had already retreated, leaving the family to enjoy the personal and private reunion. She rose to do the same.
“Oh goodness,” she heard, before she reached the door. Sophie turned around, tuned in to every need before Violet expressed it out loud. “Sophie, dearest, where are you going?”
“I’m just stepping outside so you can have a moment with family, maam.”
“Oh, don’t be silly,” Violet said affectionately. She beckoned her over. “Benedict, this is Miss Sophie Baek, my personal assistant.”
Oh God. Were those blue or green?
Never mind. They were the most captivating pair of eyes she had ever seen.
“I’ve heard a lot about you. From everyone.”
She smiled politely at her employer’s son. “I hope some of them were complimentary.”
“It was mostly mother insisting that the house would cease functioning if you ever left.”
“I think that’s Mrs Wilson, Mr Bridgerton,” she said easily.
His brows furrowed. He tilted his head. “Do you plan on calling—” His lovely eyes swept the room. “—four of us in the room Mr Bridgerton? That would be pretty confusing, don’t you think?” he asked softly.
“Anthony, Colin and Gregory? I know them very well. They are not Mr Bridgerton to me, so it won’t be confusing at all,” Sophie parried.
“Well I sure hope you’ll take the time to get to know me, so it won’t be awkward that I demand to be addressed Benedict from know on.”
Her brows arched. “Just Benedict.”
He nodded emphatically. “Nothing would make me happier.”
“Well, I am here to ensure Mrs Bridgerton’s family is very happy. Benedict.”
A smile played on his lips. “I’m already ecstatic.”
Sophie glanced at her employer, then flushed beet red when she saw how Violet Bridgerton’s eyes twinkled as she looked from her son to her personal assistant with the perfect blend of confusion and dawning delight.
“Perhaps she meant the family would collapse. I would not doubt it.”
“I would cease all function if Sophie ever left,” Violet clarified.
“Well, it was good to meet you, Mr—” Sophie shook her head. “Benedict.”
It was her fault entirely. She already reacted to his eyes. Why for the love of all that was holy did she extend her hand and expect her professionalism to win out? His hand was so large it engulfed hers when they shook hands. His grip was so warm, as if he did not just come in from the cold.
~ o ~ o ~
Sophie arrived at Bridgerton House very early, her right shoulder aching as she carried her laptop, a large tote stuffed with textbooks, two oversized conservation manuals, a coffeetable book on historical costumes that she thrifted the other day and Mrs Bridgerton’s planner. Across one arm hung the garment bag containing Mrs Bridgerton’s gown for the party. On her left shoulder, she carried two reusable grocery bags with flowers and supplies.
“May I?”
Sophie gasped in surprise. Benedict Bridgerton straightened from where he was leaning against the wall. What he was doing there at six AM was beyond her. He reached for some of her bags. Sophie turned away. “I’ve got them.”
“I know,” he said quietly. Even so, he took the grocery bags and the garment bag from her.
She sighed in relief. At least he did not take everything. Just enough so she would not get buried with every step. He walked beside her as she made her way to his mother’s office. “You didn’t have to do that.”
He gave her an impish smile. “I know.”
As they made their way up the stairs, Benedict struck up a conversation. “So, how long have you been working for my mother?”
“About three years.”
“And I hear you’re studying.”
Sophie laughed. “At the same time. Yes.”
“What are you studying?”
She bit her lip, wondering if she should respond. For too long she had assessed whether or not she should tell the truth. In her world, the educational course she took was impractical, almost laughable. But the man spent years toiling in the art scene in the most competitive place in the world. She decided to answer honestly. “Cultural Conservation. I’m specializing in Textiles and Costumes.”
He did not blink. “Mother said you graduated.”
“That was my bachelor’s. Art History.”
He stopped halfway up the stairs, then turned to her. “You’re doing your master’s now?” Sophie nodded. “When do you sleep?”
Trust an artist not to blink at what her stepmother had deemed completely impractical and thus deserved no support. Her eyes crinkled and she smiled warmly. “I’m still trying to solve that mystery,” she pointed out.
When finally they reached his mother’s office, Sophie opened the door. He carried the bags in and placed them on the settee against the wall. Sophie thanked him and then set up her school books on her own work table. She still had at least two hours before Violet joined her. Sophie could catch up on readings for her curriculum for the first hour, and spend the next organizing for the workday.
~ o ~ o ~
Benedict joined his brothers in Anthony’s office later that morning. He took the proffered drink and sipped, then made his way to the windows overlooking his mother’s garden. Down below, he saw his mother walking among her roses. Sophie Baek followed closely behind her, with her tablet in hand taking efficient notes. Hanging from her right shoulder was a reusable canvas bag, the mystery contents of which he would not be able to sleep well without discovering.
She was always carrying something, and he would very much like to know what.
“I might have to use your office as a studio when you’re in Aubrey Hall,” Benedict suggested.
Anthony walked over to him and looked out the window. “Spectacular flowers.”
Benedict grinned. “I’ve seen a lot. Nothing comes close.”
The door to the office opened, and Colin peered inside. Seeing the two of them, he opted to join. Anthony slapped Benedict’s back. “You have got that look you get when you’ve met someone that will change your life.”
Benedict shook his head. “I’ve known her approximately three minutes,” he pointed out.
Anthony smirked. “Exactly.”
“Who are we talking about?” Colin asked, confused. “Someone in Paris? Vienna?”
Anthony nodded towards the garden. “Sophie.”
“Mother’s Sophie?” Benedict nodded. No sense denying anything. Colin whistled. “She is much younger than you.”
“So?”
“Ten years.”
“I know how to subtract, Colin,” Benedict said.
“So long as you know. I’m already preparing my jokes.”
Benedict spent his first day back quietly observing the woman running his mother’s life. Violet Bridgerton had been exactly right when she held Sophie back after the staff had cleared the room after his arrival. Sophie was family, and spent more time with his mother than Violet’s own four daughters combined. Her proximity to family affairs made it much easier for him to observe.
Sophie Baek, apparently, was efficient and productive all the minutes of her life. Not only was she taking her master’s while working full time in one of the most demanding jobs on the planet, Sophie Baek did not take breaks. As the family sat down to lunch, Sophie set up her tablet by her plate, and ate while answering emails.
He found her waiting for documents to finish printing, and took the time to study lecture notes. She insisted on carrying boxes for his mother. Even if Anthony did not live permanently in the house, she had memorized his routine so closely that when Anthony returned from his run, she had his electrolyte drink ready and waiting. She had found Colin’s documents while on her hands and knees on Colin’s suspect carpets. She sent Daphne’s gown for dry cleaning. She had had restrung Fran’s piano. And she curated books for Eloise. Apparently, she had rescheduled Gregory’s calendar and printed out college brochures for Hyacinth.
She spent all day taking care of each and every one of his family members.
Out of scope. She might insist they were part of the job of Violet Bridgerton’s assistant, but he so clearly saw a delineation that she might have chosen to ignore.
One thing was clear.
Despite the fondness with which they all looked at her… Nobody was taking care of Sophie Baek.
By the end of her workday, Sophie slipped out of the house. She did not stay a minute longer after she joined the family for dinner. She needed to catch the tube in exactly eleven minutes to make it in time for an evening seminar at the university, his mother had explained.
“So…”
Anthony sighed. “There it is.”
Benedict arched a single eyebrow. “I haven’t said anything.”
“You were about to.”
Colin grinned. “I’ll start a timer next time.”
Hyacinth leaned forward. “I give you a week.”
Gregory turned to his younger sister confused. “For what?”
“For Benedict to become completely insufferable.”
Violet lifted the wineglass to her lips, hiding a smile. Benedict shook his head. Mother was enjoying all this.
Benedict cleared his throat. “Mother…”
“Yes, dear.”
“Is Miss Baek seeing anyone?”
~ o ~ o ~
Precisely one hour later, Sophie Baek settled into her seat for her seven PM lecture. She hit the keyboard with only one hand. With her other, she brought the sandwich that she found wrapped in her tote bag. Mrs Wilson, she guessed. What a lovely gesture, and the first time the housekeeper ever did it in the three years she had been working for the Bridgertons.
Back at Bridgerton House, Benedict smiled to himself. The jambon-beurre was a favorite of his during his stint in Paris, and it was quite easy to combine French ham and butter in a baguette. He had just come home, and he had gained enough reputation that a little delay before the next exhibit would have no impact on his career. Tonight, all he had to worry about was whether she enjoyed the amount of butter in her sandwich, or if she preferred more.
He did not need to plan his next painting, or to think of the next trip.
He only needed to think about a twenty-five year old woman on whose shoulders rested the fate of his entire family, and who insisted she can carry everything.
Not alone, he thought. At least not while he can help it.
And so for the next weeks, Benedict sought out to prove to her exactly that. Remarkably and unexpectedly, it was easy. And Sophie marveled at how easy it was.
Benedict Bridgerton, for all his thirty five years learning on earth, did not play games. She did not need to guess at what he meant, nor what he intended. Sophie had been shortlisting supplier proposals with Violet Bridgerton when Benedict knocked on the door. The two of them looked up, and Sophie then returned to her list quietly assuming that he was there to speak with his mother.
Instead he walked up to her and handed her one rose freshly cut from his mother’s garden. She heard Mrs Bridgerton audibly gasp.
“Come to dinner with me tonight. I made reservations.”
Sophie blinked up at him, blushing in front of his mother. “This can’t be professional in front of my boss.”
“She’s my mother,” he answered. “Believe me, she is enjoying this.”
Sophie looked at Violet from the corner of her eye. “Does my employment hinge on my answer?”
“Dearest, I would choose you over Benedict any time, so don’t let that influence you.”
“You have dinner at home.”
At that response, he already knew. His grin was wide and warm and reached his eyes. “I’d rather eat out. With you. And it’s Tuesday. You don’t have evening class on Tuesday.”
“Okay.”
The most delightful evening she has ever had in a while. And by the end of it, he asked again for Saturday, because he already knew Saturday classes ended by six. She did not even check her calendar before she said Yes.
And he asked again after that. “There is a private exhibition at the British Museum. They discovered costumes from the Joseon dynasty and I thought—”
“Yes. Of course, yes.”
In Room 67, right there on the ground floor, Benedict stood patiently while Sophie walked around the glass case exhibit of a Joseon robe. She stepped away to appreciate the full scale of it, then stepped close. As it was a special, invitation only day, the curator stepped closer and noted her interest.
And then she was offered the opportunity to inspect it closer when they opened the case. Sophie nearly fainted in excitement. She walked forward and marveled at the hand stitching and inspected the embellishment, naming possible material and gleefully clapped each time she was correct.
She explained to the curator for five uninterrupted—glorious was the word that Benedict used when he described the date to his siblings later on—minutes the stitching techniques that set the Joseon period apart.
She finally remembered him standing there and apologized profusely for ignoring him for the better part of fifteen minutes.
He blinked at her. “For what?”
“I’ve been talking forever.”
“I wasn’t waiting for you to finish, and I am not bored at all,” he assured her. “In fact, I was enjoying watching you look. Do you know how beautiful you are talking about ancient embroidery?”
He had bartered three cycles for that invitation, and the excitement in her eyes more than paid for the favors he promised.
On the top step of the winding staircase of the British Museum, right as they waited to be seated by the café on the upper floor, Benedict received his first kiss from Sophie.
And then he invited her again.
“During my last trip to Oxford, I found the most magnificent second-hand bookshop that has a collection of—”
“I can drive us,” she immediately offered.
He snorted, even if elated at the implied Yes. “I’m not letting my girl drive me hours to our date. I’m driving.”
This kiss was special, because it took him by surprise when she threw herself at him and kissed him when he least expected it. So he kissed her jawline, and then the pulse behind her ear. “You can even sleep in the car,” he offered her. “Save up your energy so you can explore the place to your heart’s content.”
And energy she had. When they entered the bookstore, Sophie vanished. Once in a while, she would see her head bob up, and he knew she was around. For an entire hour span, he did not see her. And then, finally, he found her. Sophie Baek sat cross-legged between two shelves as she pored through a rare conservation text.
Benedict folded his large self down to crouch beside her.
“Princess,” he whispered, gently, so she would not even suspect that he thought she was wrong.
She looked up, her eyes shining with the excitement of discovery, like she embarked on a pirate adventure and stumbled upon a chest of gold. For her, this might as well have been exactly that. “I found first exhibition notes. Original, I think.”
He did not even pretend to understand. “Shall I clear my schedule”
She blinked up at him. “We can stay?” He nodded. “You really won’t mind?”
“I drove you here.” Sophie smiled. “Might as well get our gas money’s worth.”
She winced. “By waiting in a dusty bookshop for me to finish?”
“By watching you be ridiculously happy.” He leaned close and kissed her lips. “And knowing I did that.”
She beamed. “You really did.”
He asked her for her class schedule, and soon he found himself with packed lunches or take aways, sitting in the parking lot of the university, waiting for the passenger door to open. She slipped into the car, giggled, and murmured in appreciation when he handed her meal to her. After lunch and a quick make out session, she slipped away and ran to the next class, leaving him with a silly grin on his face, before he had to drive back home.
Soon, even his siblings knew not to request Sophie for anything beyond her schedule. Soon, even his mother participated in his endeavors.
“Mother, is Sophie—”
Violet did not even look up from her tea. “This Saturday, between one to four.”
“You already checked,” Benedict concluded.
Violet smiled into her tea. “I may have.”
“You were waiting for me to ask.”
“I knew it would not take you long,” Violet answered.
No one even looked for him. If his studio lights were off, then they already knew where he would be.
Not long after that, Anthony watched with amusement as his brother left the house carrying Sophie’s tote bag full of her books, Sophie’s umbrella, and a sage green water bottle.
Benedict arched an eyebrow at his older brother, daring him to comment. Anthony raised his arms in surrender. Benedict simply explained, “It’s heavy.”
Anthony turned suspiciously at the bag. “Approximately three pounds.” And then he shook his head. “Why does she need bag anyway? Mother wants a walk at Kew Gardens with the family. She won’t be reading books there.”
“She wants to catch up on her schoolwork when she can. Mother will want to rest some time.” He turned around and found Colin walking behind him. “I need you to make sure mother will get some rest and won’t require Sophie for at least a couple of hours.”
And then, Benedict walked ahead of his siblings, catching up to his girlfriend as he handed her the water bottle. Hyacinth fell into step beside her two brothers as they watched Sophie refuse, then eventually get convinced by Benedict to drink some water.
“I do think our brother is nesting.”
Gregory popped up from behind her. “Don’t you have to be engaged before you nest?”
Colin shook his head. “Apparently not. Our dear older brother skipped directly to husband.”
Hyacinth shook her head. “Typical Benedict.”
“Is that an umbrella in the tote bag?”
Eloise pipes in behind them. “He checked the forecast. Apparently, it is going to rain later today, and he wants it on her for her walk to the Underground.”
~ o ~ o ~
Tuesday dinner ran long with the London Historical Society. Benedict wanted to strangle each and every one of them. Violet Bridgerton scheduled their bi-weekly discussions on a Tuesday because Sophie did not need to run off to seminar then. What was unexpected was that a recent find under a garage in Lincolnshire would require avid conversation that pushed dinner three hours overtime.
By the first hour past six, Benedict paced outside the dining room. Sophie looked up and waved him away. Thirty minutes later, Benedict appeared again. Violet motioned for Sophie to go, but asked her to return by the time the evening wrapped.
“At least two more hours,” Sophie told him.
With a grin, he pulled her to the entertainment room and started Trainspotting. “I can’t believe you haven’t seen this.” He extended his arm behind her head on the sofa.
“When did that come out?” Sophie asked, shifting so she could curl her legs under her and lean her head against his chest while laying against him. She yawned.
“96.”
“I was five.”
He sighed. “Now I understand my own mortality. I already had a girlfriend then.”
Sophie raised her head and looked at him. “Girlfriend girlfriend?” she emphasized.
Benedict smiled. “No one that can hold a candle to you.” He leaned forward, and kissed her deeply. “I’ve got a burger delivery waiting with your name on it.” She was set to protest, when her stomach grumbled loudly. “I knew you wouldn’t enjoy those little tiny hors d’oeuvres my mother insists on during those society things. I feed my girl better than that,” he said proudly.
“Benedict, I already gained five pounds since we started dating,” she told him.
“Princess,” he whispered. “You don’t know how much that turns me on.”
“I don’t think tonight is the night I am finally going to watch Trainspotting,” she concluded.
He smiled against her lips as she pressed herself against him. She placed either legs on the sides of his hips and began rubbing clothed center against him. He hissed at the sensation. “Sophie,” he gasped. “Mother is downstairs with a dozen other old ladies.”
She giggled low in her throat. Fairy bells, he realized. Her laugh sounded like little fairy bells.
And he wanted to take her right there and then.
There was a sharp knock on the door. And then it swung open, and a cautious head of one Gregory Bridgerton peered inside. He held up a brown bag like an offering. “I was outside,” Gregory explained. “So I received your order.”
Sophie stood up, and the release of her weight on his hardness relieved the tension but added to the discomfort. She dropped a kiss on his nose. “I’m hungry. Maybe we get to watch the movie, after all.”
Benedict groaned. Gregory, smartly, placed the bag on the floor, then ran away.
It was almost 10PM when Sophie’s work finally concluded, handing out small goodie bags to the Historical Society ladies like they were grade schoolers leaving a children’s birthday party. She took copious tasks down from Violet, and then documented the to dos and closed off half of them.
Violet Bridgerton offered for Sophie to stay in one of the guestrooms, but Sophie insisted on going home where she was comfortable. Benedict wrapped his scarf around her shoulders as he walked with her to the Underground, and surprised her by tapping his card at the turnstile right after she entered.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He entered, and then wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “I’m not letting my girl commute alone this late,” he explained. “I’d drive, but we know it’s infinitely faster to just take the train.”
“Ben—”
“What can I carry for you?” he asked, already reaching for her tote.
And there, right by the turnstiles, blocking part of the way enough that people stared or muttered their complaint, Sophie Baek told Benedict Bridgerton for the first time—
“You are crazy, and I love you.”
~ o ~ o ~
Fiercely independent, confident, self-sufficient, and the sexiest person he ever had the pleasure to touch. Sophie Baek was all that and more. And damn if he was not the luckiest bastard in all of Mayfair—no, in all of the UK—because Sophie Baek was his.
She loved him. She told him so at the train station, between tapping in and catching the next train. And she told him at least twenty nine times since. He was not counting. He just happened to know exactly when each incident happened and the exact tone of her voice, the precise set of her expression.
He must have told her at least thirty six times, because he returned the sentiment every time and said it seven more times when she was fast asleep and could not say it back.
And throughout their date night, the touches and kisses grew more fervent with every minute that passed. Sophie placed a hand on his thigh on the drive back home. Benedict prayed to all the gods that she did not slide further up, so they did not end up in the emergency room and delay this eventuality further.
Sophie moved back on the bed, opening her arms to Benedict. He crawled over her, looking at her kiss-ravaged lips. She laid back on the pillows, watching him through half-lidded eyes. He laid himself beside her, then propped himself up on one arm. Sophie sighed when his hand rested on her hip, rubbing his thumb on her hipbone. She held her breath, her lips slightly parted, as he slowly pulled up her dress.
She rested a hand on his cheek. He turned his face so he could dust butterfly kisses into her palm. “I love you, princess. So much,” he whispered. Thirty six.
Her eyes crinkled, and she responded with, “I love you.” An even thirty.
Benedict cupped the back of her neck and brought her in for another kiss, slow, lingering. And then the same hand dipped, fingers tracing her collarbone and then resting on her breast. His thumb pebbled her nipple. Then he bent, leaning forward, and captured her breast, staining with his mouth a dark stain over the satin of her dress. She moaned deep in her throat, then both of her hands rested on his head, threading her fingers in his hair.
His mouth occupied her breast, so his hand was freed up to cup her completely. Her underwear was thin, moist. She had been ready the entire night, whispered the same to him on the drive back. Her legs fell apart, making room for his hand as he worked her. He pressed his palm harder against her, and she moaned softly.
“Take them off, Benedict.”
And like the dutiful and active communicator that he had been, he did exactly like she asked. He reluctantly left her breast, wet with his saliva, and then made his way down her body to pull off her panties.
“I need you,” she breathed.
He nodded. “Whatever you need.” And then he pushed her legs apart even further, looking down at her open in front of him for the very first time. He looked up, and she raised herself up on her elbows and watched him as she panted, breathless, blushing furiously. “Princess, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”
She licked her lips. He slowly dipped his head and licked her entrance. Sophie dropped her head back and let out a guttural cry. Her elbows collapsed under her, and Sophie covered her mouth with the palm of her hand. Encouraged, he dipped his tongue inside her. With her other hand she grabbed the hair in the back of his head. And so he did it once more, thrusting in and out, mimicking everything he planned for later in the night. And then he lifted his lips, wet two fingers in his mouth and then thrust one finger first. She gasped at the sensation, and Benedict thrust into her to ease her, familiarize her with the stretch.
“Another one,” he said. She nodded. “You can take this, princess.” His second finger slowly added to the stretch. She winced for a moment as she adjusted to the two fingers inside her. Benedict returned to kiss her lower lips.
She moaned a prayer, muffled by her hand.
He worked her, and he could feel her hips work themselves up, seeking release. She clenched around his fingers. And then she was pulling at his shoulders, and he let her so that he could kiss her mouth and let her taste herself on his lips. His fingers continued to work her.
“I can’t wait. Please, Benedict.”
His fingers sped up. She moaned when she tasted herself on him.
“I’m going to add another finger,” he murmurs against her lips.
Her body clenched hard at the third. Her hips ground against his hand. Benedict pressed kisses on her neck as he worked her. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead. His tongue dipped into the hollow of her throat where sweat pooled. She moaned in her throat. He felt it vibrate against his lips.
Her orgasm was building. He could feel it on his fingers. His smirk built up at the audible signs that he was giving her pleasure. It was worth double of experiencing it himself. His lips worked points of her face, of her neck, and his three fingers worked nonstop inside her. Finally, when she was closer than she had been, Benedict crooked his fingers inside her and her body seized under him, toppling over the edge. Her legs fell open, her body trembling as she tried to catch her breath.
Sophie dragged air into her lungs. A few minutes later, she blinked her eyes open and reached for him. He grinned at her.
“You’re still wearing all your clothes.”
“I’m sorry, princess. That was remiss of me.”
She smiled. “Get naked.”
Benedict’s eyes twinkled. “At your service. Always.”
He pulled off his shirt first, basking in the open admiration on her face as he bared his torso. She reached out and her fingers played over the planes of his abdomen. And then, he stood up and pulled off his pants and underwear in one go. Sophie’s eyes widened as she stared at him. Her eyes slammed to his. “Ben—”
He grinned. “As requested,” he said.
Her breath hitched. “You—you’re—”
“I am,” he said. Ready since the start of the night. Hell, he was prepared from the day he met her three whole months ago. Benedict climbed up in the bed, walking on his knees to rest between her parted legs. Benedict pulled her legs until her thighs rested on top of his. And then he hooked his arms under her knees, leaning forward so that her legs were spread wide open to accommodate him. He leaned forward and gave her a kiss.
She held her breath. He held his. Anticipating for such a long time, and finally, there they were. After months of talking, of making out, they were here. Benedict lowered himself over her, then nuzzled his nose into the side of her neck. His lips brushed hers. Her cheeks flared with heat. He reached between their bodies and aligned himself to her entrance.
Just the tip first, allowing her to adjust. Her climax gave them ample lubrication, but a difference of a foot between them, and he was likely much larger than anyone she had dated. She was eager, vocal about tonight, but Benedict understood that he would be a lot for her. He slowed his progress, entering her inch by agonizing inch. God, she was tighter and smaller than anyone he ever felt. Her heat was insane. Not even halfway in, and she was sucking him in when her muscles clenched hard, almost painfully so.
“Are you alright, baby?”
She nodded, closing her eyes. “Just—do it.”
He smiled gently. “No”
Sophie blinked at him. “No?”
“We are not in a race.” He kissed her forehead. “We are doing this together.”
And then her hands moved from her shoulders to his ass. She pulled him to her and thrust up her hips. Benedict slid inside to the hilt. She winced. She inhaled sharply. Benedict immediately stopped still, buried all the way inside her.
“Talk to me, princess.”
She forced a smile. She whined low in her throat. He tried to move. Her fingers dug into his flesh. “No. Move, Ben. I—I can do it.”
Slowly, he pulled out. She moaned. Above her, his expression changed. “Sophie?”
“Wait,” she gasped. “It burns.”
And just like that, the desire that thrummed in his entire body washed away. “Do you want to stop?”
Her eyes watered. Reluctantly, she nodded. Gingerly, he pulled out of her. She lay back. Benedict placed another pillow under her head.
And then, he looked down at himself. There were traces of blood on his cock. His gaze moved to her thighs. Between her legs, mixed with her release was blood. He looked up at her face. She turned her head away, refusing to look at him.
Very quietly, he said, “Sophie.”
She covered her face. “I’m sorry.”
He sighed. “What are you apologizing for?”
Her shoulders trembled. She did not remove her hands from covering her face. “I should have told you.”
Benedict knelt in front of her. “Told me what, baby?”
Her voice was barely a whisper. “That I’ve never—” She drew a trembling breath. “I was so embarrassed.”
His hands wrapped around her wrists and very gently pulled her hands away from her face. He brought them both to his lips and kissed each one. And then, his thumb brushed away a tear. He kissed her forehead.
“Princess, were you frightened to tell me?”
Her voice was shaky. She looked back at him with her tear-streaked face and spiky lashes. “I’m twenty-five, Ben.”
“I know, princess. That is a frequent topic of conversation when my brothers rib me about being absolutely head over heels for you.”
She pursed her lips. “People my age… I was just always working, or studying. After a while, it was just easier not to explain. And I wanted you so much, I thought—”
“Baby,” he said sadly. “You’ve been building a life most people couldn’t manage. There has never been anything ordinary about you. And I love you.” He stopped counting. That did not matter anymore. “I’m just sad that you thought you needed to hide anything about yourself, especially to me.”
Benedict wrapped her in his arms, and then settled her properly in bed. He kissed the top of her head, then puttered around her tiny kitchen. A few minutes later, he returned with hot tea for her, and then placed a wash basin on the bedside table. He wrung a hand towel in the water, then gently parted her legs. The towel was warm, so he had mixed the tap water with hot. He began wiping her clean of the blood and her own release.
Afterwards, he brought her a fresh pair of pajamas, then helped her out of the dress and into comfortable clothes, skipping the panties.
“Benedict,” she laughed softly. “I’ll survive.”
“I know,” he replied, not laughing with her. Later, maybe, to put her at ease. For now, “I’ll just feel better if you get some rest.”
Once she was settled, he went to the bathroom himself and cleaned himself up. Later, in one of her oversized jogging pants, he climbed up into bed behind her and pulled her close, resting so that her back was against his chest.
“Sleep, princess. I’m right here.”
~ o ~ o ~
The next day, Benedict called in sick to his own house for her. He informed his mother that he would stay over at Sophie’s.
The day after, there was no stopping her. Both of them arrived to Bridgerton House at 6AM. Sophie went directly to his mother’s office, knowing that he would follow with her tote after he promised to scrounge them up some breakfast.
In the kitchen, Benedict collected breakfast items to take with him. Mrs Wilson walked up and promised to have someone bring a tray for two to Mrs Bridgerton’s office. Before he left, he turned to the housekeeper.
“Would it be possible not to overwork Miss Baek today? Could you advise mother?”
“Yes, Mr Bridgerton?”
He cleared his throat. “A lighter schedule may be wise. Everyone trusts you or fears you in this house, Mrs Wilson. A gentle nudge to my brothers and sisters would help.”
Mrs Wilson nodded somberly. “I can get that arranged.”
By lunchtime, Sophie looked at her checklist. She had accomplished two things, when any other day she had ticked off six activities by the same hour. No one approached her with a crisis—not even the youngest of the Bridgertons. That was statistically impossible. All the callers to Mrs Bridgerton scheduled for the day had cancelled, and proactively offered an alternate schedule instead of Sophie needing to reach out to them for arrangements.
The staff brought breakfast for her and Benedict to share.
“What did you do?” she whispered.
He blinked innocently at her. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Mrs Wilson coughed in the back.
tbx