Witty, daring and with a secret knack for painting Frances Granville arrives at London with two convictions: one, that she is not interested in men, especially not in lords who parade impeccably around courting innocent young ladies at balls only to...
Despite how it may seem, I have not abandoned this story. I apologise for my long absence, I had a lot of things going on in my life (including finishing my degree, work, and you know, just life stuff...) and I have struggled with some writer's block, but I am not one to give up on a story. Franny and Benedict, and especially you, Dearest Readers, who have made my day on so many occasions, deserve better. So here you go, a long chapter (and some action) to make up for what was missed. I originally planned to have 30 chapters altogether, but do not worry, these remaining few will be eventful.
Enjoy,
L. H.
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"Henry, I wanted to thank you once more, for painting the portrait of Daphne and the duke. You did a marvellous job," Violet Bridgerton congratulated the painter while smiling kindly from ear to ear.
The Bridgertons, save for the aforementioned couple, and the Granvilles were having a late family dinner chatting the night away. Benedict called it the experiment of "how long Franny could tolerate his family before she wanted to flee" while for Franny it was "how long till the Granvilles made eyebrows rise". Naturally, they made a bet.
"You are most welcome, Violet," Henry replied, flashing one of his warm smiles, "Albeit, I should remark that I didn't have a difficult job. They were the very picture of devotion."
It did not escape Franny's attention how Lucy's brow rose ever so slightly over the rim of her glass. Luckily Mrs. Bridgerton's attention was fixed on Anthony wondering when he was going to find himself a viscountess. Something was going on between Daphne and the duke and Franny could only hope that they would soon reconcile. She didn't know many things about love, but if one thing was sure, it was that they were enamoured with each other.
"We are all eagerly waiting for the duke and the duchess to entertain a ball together," Lucy chattered and only Franny could pick up on her inquiring tone.
"Oh yes, I am certain it shall be only a matter of time," came Mrs. Bridgerton's reply, her smile undisturbed.
"That is not the only thing we are eagerly waiting for," Benedict added, his voice laced with bickering.
He shot Franny one of his languish smiles, who met his eyes squarely and suppressed an urge to kick him under the table. They have agreed to share the news tonight but haven't exactly seen eye to eye when the right moment would be. Therefore Benedict kept bombarding Franny with suggestive comments in the hope of wearing her down. If they had been sitting next to each other, he would have coupled his assault with a few stolen touches – not too wicked, of course, after all almost his whole family was seated across the table, not to mention the Granvilles who were more than capable and willing to skin him alive... Albeit Hyacinth and Eloise have blackmailed, threatened and tricked, anything in their repertoire, – save for asking him nicely – him into letting them sit next to Franny. Because he equally (and secretly) feared and loved his sisters, he agreed. After all, later that night in the studio he would have time to make up for all the interaction missed... and more.
