Chapter Twenty-Four: Benedict Comes to a Decision [Part Two]

Franny looked exquisite at the party after Daphne's wedding with her golden hair tied up emphasising her long, swanlike neck and she was sparkling in a pale lilac dress that fell on her slender waist and hugged her lean body closely. But it wasn't the dress that made her breathtaking. There was something different in the way she held herself, the way her eyes assumed a playful glint when they fell on him and the way her face radiated with a smile. Maybe she hasn't changed a bit, but he felt closer to her. That meant that they had to get rid of Wetherby's marriage proposal. It was futile in the first place, but after the night at the Granville studio, it became clear that Wetherby stood no chance. Benedict was eager to find out what Franny talked about with him and gulped on his champagne when she joked about a wedding with Wetherby. It was his turn to retort and jest about making a counteroffer. Franny went so livid that Benedict was afraid she would faint. Marrying her has been at the back of his mind, but her reaction made it clear that it was too soon to pose the all-important question. It would be some time till he got down on one knee, at least until the mere mentioning of marriage didn't drain the colour from her cheeks. Benedict couldn't decide whether to be frustrated or thankful for his sister's interruption, so he settled somewhere in between. Eloise also granted him an opportunity to steal Franny away and have his wicked way with her. Not too wicked, of course, after all, they were at his sister's wedding, but one or two kisses under the coverage of a monumental flower bouquet wouldn't hurt. He had considerable experience in how to seduce a woman and he couldn't wait to try every single one of his tricks on her. They would go slowly until she would be seduced by his tantalising assaults. And he would enjoy each second of it.

One kiss surely wasn't enough. He would steal hundreds more and that would still not be enough. But Franny was right, and they could be exposed in the corridor, and however thrilling that was, he wanted to avoid bringing shame to their families. It was convenient that his father's study was close by. Except that it was already occupied by none other than his younger brother and Miss Thompson, who were standing only a few inches away from each other. Benedict was not in the position to chastise his brother and he lacked the self-importance to be a hypocrite or the title to manage his younger siblings' love life, both of which was Anthony's job. Not to mention that Colin, as always, brazenly talked his way out of any repercussion. With hindsight, however, Benedict blamed himself for not telling Anthony about the incident, because it might have prevented the scandal that later unfolded. Or only made it worse. Benedict didn't know which option was more likely, but he still felt responsible for Colin's misfortune.

In spite of, or exactly because of teasing about their future wedding, Benedict has been giving a lot of thought about the possibility. He knew that the time was not yet right, but they were heading gradually towards the preferable outcome. When he saw her with his sister, Hyacinth, the one whose impatience and sassiness could have battled Franny's, it rushed through him with an overwhelming intensity that he wanted to have children with Franny. Likely more than one and definitely less than eight. Eight were too much noise, trouble and headache, but four seemed a nice, even number. He glanced at his mother who had an approving little smile on her impeccable face, and he knew that he would soon have to face her infamous matchmaking techniques. It made him proud because her mother's opinion mattered to him gravely. She was the wisest woman he had ever known, and it was vital to him that she approved of his future betrothed. It was also important that his future wife got along with his family because, despite everything, he would lay down his life for them. Benedict also finally found the use of little sisters, as Hyacinth's idea to request, or rather demand Franny to be her new painting teacher was quite preferential. The more frequently Franny visited Bridgerton house, the more chance there would be to excuse themselves to get some fresh air. He also discovered that painting was much more enjoyable with Franny in his lap and re-discovered exactly how nosy his little sister could be when they were once again interrupted.

Nevertheless, they had a chance to make up for what they have missed, and more. In a quite unruly manner, Mrs. Granville let Benedict into Franny's room who was unwilling to leave it. Benedict's first reaction when he saw Franny in a state of frenzy was pure shock. While her dress and hair were perfectly presentable, most likely the doing of her aunt, there were dark circles under her eyes which were jolting around the room restlessly. It was clear that she got very little sleep if any, and Benedict was worried for her welfare. She clearly could not think straight when she got into the mood of painting. It was unmistaken in her eyes as if she was translated into another reality, one she could not escape until she hit the bar which she set impossibly high. Because she always expected the best of herself, she was so afraid to make mistakes. For Benedict painting was always the opposite: it was a reprieve, something he always enjoyed and something that never posed a challenge to him or caused him sleepless nights. From time to time he got frustrated, especially because he never knew for sure whether he had talent and whether he had what it took to become an artist. But when he got fed up, he would just toss his drawings into the fireplace and let them go. Franny's determination inspired him to do better and pursue his dreams. Nevertheless, it would certainly do well if she knew when to stop and how to rest. Perhaps there were some things that she could learn from him.

Being in her room was intimate. He got a glimpse of a part of her life that wasn't privy to him, but fit perfectly: the shelves packed with books, newspapers piled up on her desk and all the art supplies scattered around. It was chaotic, and yet there was a clear organisation to it. When he approached the easels, he immediately recognised that she was trying to recreate her mother's picture. His heart ached as she shared the story behind it. It humbled him that she let him in on something so dear to her. Then she lashed out to him, which hurt him, but he recognised the pattern, so he pressed on carefully, patiently. She strived for more, which was obvious from the very beginning. He didn't, he always knew that. He would be happy with starting a family with a wife he loved above all. Maybe that would pose a problem for them, but it was too early to tell so Benedict shooed the thought away. It was more important to calm her down, to reassure her that he would be there for her. And when she slipped her hands into his, it hit him right in his heart. He was in love with her. It became clear, a fact of life, something that has been there for quite some time, slowly building up, encompassing his very being. Life was suddenly divided into a before and after, and he knew instinctively that if he let her go, he would never forgive himself. He was now burdened with a glorious purpose: to protect her, to make her happy, to help her realise her ambitions, even if they were different from his. So, he needed her to understand that he saw all of her, her talent, her wits, her body and heart and he would wait for her as long as she needed. Because there were no other women like Frances Granville. He wanted, craved, needed her to be his. And when he promised to be there for her, he saw it in the grey ocean of her eyes, and he felt her shiver under the invisible thread that connected them.

When she closed the door and walked up to him with quick steps, Benedict felt desire undertaking his whole body. He unbuttoned her painting gown with slowness and precision, devouring every moment. He could hear how her breath quickened and feel how she trembled in expectation as he drew his fingers across her spine. She clearly hadn't had the faintest idea how tempting she was when she sat on his lap with a mix of innocence and determination and he could no longer hide his excitement. Their lips found each other and they engaged in a hungry dance guided by sheer passion. She was eager to get closer to him and there was nothing that could fuel fire within him more. He gave in to his animalistic instincts and enjoyed giving and taking pleasure. He loved how her body reacted to his touch and his hands were everywhere, caressing, stroking and teasing. The air grew hot and sparkled between them as they discovered more of their bodies, Benedict eagerly getting rid of the unnecessary layers of clothes and enacting his wicked fantasies. Franny, against the initial hesitation and prudence, quickly became an enthusiastic participant. Their souls have been exposed to each other only moments before so it was natural that their bodies would follow. He also found a new and very entertaining way to disprove her arguments, because, of course, even in the middle of their heated and intimate activities she had to argue with him. A gentleman doesn't boast of his private business with the ladies, but suffice to say when she came undone under his touch, he felt it in his bones: an intense, overwhelming feeling of connection, two souls melting into each other and he hoped that it wouldn't be long until their bodies did the same. Step by step he would seduce her and make her his. Even the series of threats he got from the Granvilles would be worth it. She would be worth anything.