Hot in here

After the ball, as always, I arrive at Lord Granville's home. I lower myself into my seat, and I continue the painting I have been working on for the past few evenings. I have never done a portrait before, and any figures I have done have been from lifeforms and not from memory, but I do believe I am doing a good job. There is most certainly a likeness to it that no one could deny. The muffled music suddenly becomes louder in a way that I recognise indicates the door has been opened. Lord Granville strides in, but this time, with someone accompanying him.

"You." Benedict smiles, a little in awe that I am sat at the easel, or disbelief perhaps. "And what is a young lady such as yourself doing in a place such as this?"

"Oh. Lord Bridgerton." I stare awkwardly at the painting that I have been doing, and I can only pray that he shall not come any closer, or close enough to see it. "I spend much of my time here, Lord Granville is kind enough to allow me to use his space and resources for practicing my paintings."

"It does not seem like your scene, I am surprised, that is all." He tucks his hands into his pockets, laughing a little, still seemingly confused that I am there. "And however do you get here? You do not mean to tell me that your mother allows you to take part in these sorts of events? I would not believe that, even if you did tell me."

"It is called sneaking out. I am sure that you have done it more than your fair share."

"You two know each other then?" Lord Granville interjected, smiling slightly at me. He must have looked at the portrait that I was attempting and deduced from there who it was that I had been pining over, and then found some way to lure him here. "Lord Bridgerton has very good potential, Peaches. I bought him here as I thought he may be able to learn much from you, as you have learnt from me. It shall be your repayment, hm?"

"With all due respect, Lord Granville,  you do place too much faith in me. Lord Bridgerton surely deserves a better teacher than myself, for I am still learning as well." I am desperate for him to leave the room before the subject on the canvas in front of me is revealed.

"I believe in you, Peaches. You must believe in yourself." Granville winks at me, knowing full well what he has done, before he pats benedict on the back and excused himself, the music becoming muffled once again as the door clicks shut behind him.

"Lord-"

"Dear Peaches. Surely there is no need for us to be so formal with each other when we are in only each others company. You shall call me Benedict, yes?" He takes his jacket off, and my mind will only think of the day that I had to refrain myself from watching him undress, and even more so as he unbuttons his cuffs and rolls his sleeves up. "So, what is it you would like me to paint today? What is it that you are painting, may I see?"

"No! I mean, no. It is not finished and I should not like to show you something that is not finished." My stomach feels as though it is tying itself in knots and I am sure that my heart is attempting to escape through my mouth. "You are rather horrible at drawing hands. Perhaps you should give that some practice."

"Of course." He takes the seat across from me, beginning to sketch onto the paper, resting it on his lap for stability. "How long have you been in Lord Granville's tutelage for, Peaches?"

"Oh, a few months. I do not partake in any of his other activities, I can assure you of that." When I am sure that he is not going to approach my easel, I resume my progress. "When he offered me this situation, the studio and the equipment and the critique, I would have had to be an imbecile to deny it, do you not think?"

"I agree, I do." He concentrates hard as he sketches, his hand movements quick as the pencil scratches against the page. After a few moments of silence, he let's out a weary sigh. "Do you not find it is hot in here? I am ever so hot. Do you mind?..."

I do not even look up, shaking my head. I cannot look up, I could not. I do not want to think about looking up, but once I am sure he is focused on his painting once again, I glance up to see he has unbuttoned his first few buttons, so that I can see the top part of his chest. My cheeks burn a bright red when he catches me looking. "I was not looking."

"I was not going to say anything before you made it so obvious." Benedict laughs a little, the skin beside his eyes and his mouth wrinkling up, and I let out a little longing sigh. "What was that?"

"What was what?"

"That sigh. What was that about?"

"It was nothing. Do not read into it."

"So it was about me?"

I stare at him, stopping painting, unsure what to say. My heart is thumping so hard, I am surprised he cannot hear it. "You are an arrogant man if you think that every woman who sighs is sighing about you."

"Not every woman. Only you." He rises to his feet, dragging the chair awkwardly across the floor before rearranging it next to me. I cannot stop him before he catches a glimpse of my portrait. "It is of me."

"I... I..  uh..."

"Mine is of you." He reveals his own sketch to me, and I see that it bears a great resemblance to myself and the dress that I wore at the palace on the day of my debut. I let out a breath that I didn't know that I was holding as I realise that I am not crazy. I have not been imagining anything. He feels whatever this is as well. "Peaches, do you think of me as I think of you?"

"Yes."