Painted by Passion (Benedict Bridgerton X OC, a Bridgerton Fanfic)

Chapter 3

'You are very good at this dance', Benedict Bridgerton noted a mere minute after his arm had encircled her waist.

'I believe I detect a surprise in your voice, Mr. Bridgerton'.

'Well, perhaps. Waltz is a newfangled invention, after all, and not usually one that respectable ladies have their daughters learn'.

'My father had enjoyed some commissions at the Congress of Vienna. We have remained there long enough for me to...'

'...to learn the merry Austrian dance to perfection?'

'You, sir, are either a flatterer or a man laughing at me behind your smile. I meant to say, for me to take a few lessons'.

'In this case, you have the innate talent of Salome'.

'I am hardly cruel enough to demand the head of a saint on a silver plate in return for a dance. You could have named the muse of dance instead of her'.

'Ah, but the muses are rather bloodless and rather silent creatures, are they not? The most we hear about them in ancient writings is this or that poet thanking them for an inspiring dream. The wicked princess of Judea was, at least, eloquent'.

'They say an eloquent woman is never chaste'.

'Quite a leap in logic. Are you unchaste, then, Miss Rotherham?'

Her cheeks flamed with heat at this question.

'Quite a thing to ask a young woman one has only met'.

'Forgive me, I was curious. Besides, you have led me to this question quite naturally. Almost like a muse leading a poet'.

He set her spinning, and the pale fabric of her new gown rose and spun around her ankles. He had probably glimpsed a bit of her legs in that moment, if he was looking.

And something in his bright and carefree manner told Angelica that, even if he was not looking quite deliberately, he was definitely not averse to the sight if he did glimpse it.

'So', Benedict Bridgerton continued, as they continued to glide across the dance floor. 'The Congress of Vienna. Anthony had reduced us all to tears of boredom while it was still going on, regaling us with every detail he had read in the papers. Eloise was quite as bad, to be fair, and far more vehement. She has quite a personal grudge against Napoleon, you see'.

'What has Bonaparte done to your sister?'

'Not to her in particular, but she resents the way the laws he codified treat the female half of the French population. I advised her not to speak of it far and wide - any sympathy for any part of the French might be misconstrued these days'.

'I can imagine there was quite a bit of chaos in your home when Bonaparte's escape from his first place of exile became known'.

'There was. We near-had to tie Gregory down with curtains to prevent him from running off and joining the navy. Thank God that Wellington managed to beat the Corsican Ogre without any Bridgerton help, and fairly quickly too. Otherwise my younger siblings might have become ungovernable'.

'What, Miss Eloise too?' Angelica teased; however, her partner was incredibly serious when he nodded:

'Oh, yes. I suspect she had listened to too many ballads about brave ladies disguising themselves as brave lads to join their lovers' armies. Except she has no lover in the equation, and thank God for that, but I am not sure that would have stopped her'.

'Your sister sounds like a formidable woman'.

'She is certainly going to grow up into one one day'. His smile was clearly genuine, even in the treacherous, glamorous murk of the Vauxhall evening.

'I would have dearly liked to meet her one day'.

'Perhaps, you will. She is not out yet, but once she has her debut, I would like to sit back and watch whatever happens to London then'.

'Should it burn again, I would be sure to be out of it by then'.

'I would be rather sorrowful if you do leave it so quickly. Not if that would put you out of danger, of course', his hand upon her waist was firm, and radiated warmth even through the gloves, 'but I suspect London would lose something without your presence'.

'This is a bold compliment for someone who had just met me'.

'Well, I do suffer from over-boldness at times'.

'This does not look like suffering to me, Mr. Bridgerton'.

At this moment, the music gently died away, and the delicious grip upon her was loosened.

Angelica felt an obscure disappointment, as though it was the end of a pleasant dream, that had little to do with her tenuous plan.

'It was a pleasure to dance with you, Miss Rotherham. I hope we will meet again'.

Angelica smiled still as he disappeared in the gleaming throng. She wondered if it was a call from his brother that summoned him, or the fine eyes of some beauty. She dearly hoped, and not just for the sake of her campaign, that it had been the former.

Her father was waiting for her by the table with the cold supper.

'I wish you were more careful, Angel', he warned her.

'Do not worry, Mr. Bridgerton is a good dancer. My toes were in no danger'.

'I hope you understand this is not what I mean. I understand if you set your sights high, but I have heard some things about the older Bridgerton men. Neither of them seems eager to marry, and you know what the alternative is when it comes to comely young ladies like you'.

'If Mr. Bridgerton offers to set me up as his mistress with a villa in St. John's Wood, I would be sure to tell you'.

'I would that you were not so flippant about the danger. This is precisely the kind of peril an ambitious young woman of you can be prone to. Were I a duke, I would have had the means to silence any rumour; were I a coal miner, no one would have cared about your reputation. But since we stand very much in between such extremes, our position is very precarious. Any hint of a scandal could ruin us both. I dearly hope', Henry Rotherham repeated, 'that you were careful. Especially around young men such as Viscount Bridgerton and his brother'. 

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