⚘sixteen⚘

Tonight, is the first ball of the season. Though I thought about staying home with William, Benedict and I have decided to attend. William is asleep by the time we leave anyway. It is not as if I am missing much. And if I am honest, I do so much enjoy the idea of a ball without the pressure of finding a husband.

The conservatory Lady Danbury is hosting her ball in is magnificent. I smile widely as I cross the threshold with Lady Bridgerton, Anthony, Eloise, and Benedict.

Eloise is wiggling around messing with her dress.

"Stop fussing with your dress," Anthony tells her.

"You look lovely, dear," Lady Bridgerton tells her.

"I look like a prize calf, trussed up for auction," Eloise insists.

I shove Benedict as he moos at his sister. He smiles cheekily.

"Even Daphne felt most apprehensive at her first official ball, and look how well her season turned out," Lady Bridgerton offers.

"Oh, right," Eloise remarks.

A rather meekly young fellow starts towards Eloise. I grab hold of her arm.

"Come, Eloise," I tell her. "The cakes at these occasions are surprisingly good."

Eloise and I make leave from the young man.

"You are my favorite sister-in-law," Eloise tells me.

"I am your only sister-in-law currently." I laugh. "But I do appreciate the sentiment."

Eloise and I split ways so that she may find Penelope.

"Here you are."

I smile at Benedict as he walks towards me. "Here I am."

Benedict smiles widely. "You will not believe what my mother did after you Eloise walked off."

I look at him curiously. "What did she do?"

"Promptly declared Anthony's intentions to marry this season," Benedict tells me.

I laugh. "At least he will now have his choice in dance partners. Maybe some more interviews."

"He knows nothing of love," Benedict tells me.

"Not yet," I reason. "I trust he will find someone this season. When he learns to let go." I smile. "I have heard my own gossip."

"Do tell," Benedict says.

I point to a rather beautiful woman walking with Lady Danbury. Two girls of marriage age trail behind them. "That is Lady Mary Sheffield Sharma."

Benedict nods his head. "Am I to know who that is?"

I laugh as I shake my head. "No. That is why I am here to tell you."

"Inform me, my love," Benedict says.

"Lady Mary was the incomparable of her season, until she fell in love with and married a clerk. The two of them absconded to India thereafter," I tell him. "The man was no more than a common worker who already had a child."

"She is rather brave," Benedict says.

"For coming back?" I ask.

"That and for daring to leave in the first place," Benedict tells me.

"She was in love," I reason. "You and I were ready to run off to Gretna Green last year ourselves."

Benedict laughs. "It feels like a lifetime ago."

Lady Bridgerton walks towards Benedict and me. "Have you seen your brother or your sister?"

"They managed to escape you? Good for them," Benedict remarks as he grabs my hand leading me away from his mother.

"That wasn't very nice dear," I tell him.

"But true," Benedict argues.

I step closer to Benedict. "You know I thought we could make like Anthony and Eloise and disappear ourselves."

"You know me too well, my love." Benedict smiles mischievously. "I shall have the carriage brought around."

There is nothing quite like the sweet-scentedsmell of success. But after taking in the scene from last night's festivities, it is clear the season won't be quite so fragrant for everyone. The Viscount Bridgeton's own mama may have loudly declared her eldest son's lofty intentions to marry, yet I cannot be the only one wondering if this former Capital-R-Rake is, indeed, ready to flourish. Perhaps the viscount, like the rest of us, is simply waiting for the queen to finally name her diamond. Or perhaps this author should take matters into her own hands.

Though, of the many purportedly well-trained and bred hothouse flowers on display this year, this author must wonder if a more surprising choice might still be in store. Whichever darling miss receives such high esteem, let us hope there is a suitor available of only the sharpest wit, lest his dry musings leave a young lady wilting like a parched rose.

I sit in the drawing room at the Bridgerton house. Madame Delacroix is here with fabric swatches for Eloise and Lady Bridgerton to look at.

"Lady Goring was quite taken with Eloise's dress last night, Madame Delacroix," Lady Bridgerton tells her. "She would keep saying how well it complemented her complexion. She said you reminded her of Daphne, dearest."

"I am not Daphne," Eloise states.

"This is the one," Lady Bridgerton says as she picks out a purple silk.

"Ah. With pleasure, Lady Bridgerton," Madame Delacroix tells her.

"You do know, Eloise, that you might enjoy the next ball if you, in fact, danced with someone," I offer.

"Meeting new people, it can be thrilling," Lady Bridgerton adds.

"Yes, it certainly seemed as though Anthony had a thrilling time. Swept away by many a nimble-footed young lady, Brother?" Eloise says.

"I can still barely feel my toes," Anthony tells her. "I thought you ladies were taught to dance."

"I thought you gentlemen capable of worthwhile conversation," Eloise counters. "How sad both of our hopes were dashed."

"I think Eloise would make a brilliant diamond," Hyacinth offers.

"I could not agree more, Hyacinth. Perhaps Her Majesty will take note at her ball tomorrow night," Lady Bridgerton says.

"I despise you," Eloise tells her.

I stand up with William in my arms. Benedict smiles as I hand him our son.

"Have you found a wife yet? Or are you planning to offend every girl until there are none left?" Benedict asks Anthony. "Is Mother aware?"

"Aware of what?" Lady Bridgerton asks.

"I'm off to deal with our solicitor," Anthony says as he stands up. "Have fun with your pretty pictures, Brother."

Lady Bridgerton follows after him. "Anthony?"

I turn to Benedict. "I am supposed to check on Penelope. Will you be alright with William?"

Benedict laughs. "He is our son, Di, I think I can manage."

I smile slightly. "I still cannot help but smile at the sight of you with our son."

"And the sight of you with our son," Benedict leans in to whisper in my ear, "Makes me want to take you home and fill you with another."