Sweet Honour- Benedict Bridgerton

4. Made Of Glass

When they returned home, invitations for the Queen's ball had arrived, seemingly enough they had not arrived back to Mayfair unnoticed.
The evening was drawing closer and as the girls got ready, their father had just returned from one of his business inquiries.

"What are the three of you all dressed up for?" He asked as he entered their drawing room.

"The Queen's ball, father. Will you be accompanying us? There is an invitation waiting for you." Iris said.

"I have been busy..." he cast his eyes along his daughters, their faces pleading. "But I suppose I could make the time." He grinned, spinning Ada in the air.

Victoria excused herself from the room, heading for some final touches that she left in her bedroom.

"Victoria." A sigh left her body as her fathers voice thrummed down the hallway.

"Yes, father."

"Are you wanting to debut this season? Is that why you girls are attending this ball? You know that I want no scandal." He questioned.

"I do not yet know, father." She confessed.

"Well figure it out. You're the oldest, set a good example."

That was the description of her life, 'set a good example' but why should she? Surely she could live on the edge at least once, in the face of scandal, begging for attention from the ton. When she returned to her bed chamber, she looked at herself in the mirror, sapphires gleaming on her dress. As she looked at herself, all she could see was her mother. Her biggest fear was that she would grow up to look like her, live like her, love like her, be like her, but still not be able to live up to her excellence and grace. Her mother was the epitome of elegance, of pure heaven. Everyone knew that, but with her gone it was as though she had these huge shoes to fill, to keep the family name reputable.

"It's time to go." Iris said, leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed. Victoria stood unmoving, tears glistening in her eyes. "Oh, no do not cry, you will mess with the rouge on your cheeks."

"Iris, what if I see him and he doesn't recognise me, and he doesn't care for my presence?"

"I assure you, that will not be the case. I was twelve when we left but I saw it clear as day, the way that you two would watch the sunset and sunrise. There is no way that he could forget it, just like you have not, how I have not." Iris wiped the tear from Victoria's cheek, then pressed her hands to Victoria's shoulders, turning her to face the mirror. "You look beautiful, he would be
a fool not to notice. Now, let's go."

The venue was stunning; flowers surrounding the room, everything embellished in silvers and golds, people swarming in all directions engaged in conversation. The sisters walked in, hand in hand, their father trailing behind. Ada was too young to attend, so she sat home in her gown, playing and dancing with the maids. It was sad to think about, really, but it was the reality and it was undeniable.
Victoria's eyes scanned the room, so many faces that she knew but she wasn't sure if they knew her still. The plan was to float around for a while, wait until a suitor asked for a dance or to fetch lemonade, it had been around ten minuets and it was looking gloomy for Victoria.

"I am going to go for some lemonade, I'll be back soon." She said.

"Do not leave me alone!" Iris hushed.

"Go find father then, be a big girl." Iris rolled her eyes at Victoria's retort. Victoria wandered her way to the refreshments table, pouring herself a glass of lemonade.

"Shouldn't someone do that for you, m'lady." Someone said from over her shoulder.

"I find I am entirely capable." Victoria turned around, and much to her surprise a familiar face was smiling at her. "Oh, it is you. I am so sorry for my discourtesy." She bowed.

"Ah, do not worry, I think we know each other enough for some banter."

"Well, it is good to see you, Will. I was beginning to think you weren't going to be here, worrying I was going to know no one." She smiled.

"I am glad I have someone to talk with too." He smiled back. "I am afraid I am being too forward, but I do not want the night to slip away from me" He said.

"I'm afraid I do not know what you mean?" Victoria questioned and Will held out his hand.

"Would you care to dance, Miss Knight?" He asked, bowing his head. It was true, no names had been signed on her dance card, and she would not mind if he was the first she was to dance with. She took in his eyes, the jawline, the smile. For an odd moment she felt quite happy that a man like him would take an interest in her, she registered that his hand was still waiting, his smile fading a little, realising she had thought for too long. She placed her hand in his.

"It would be a pleasure." He led her to the dance floor, where the string quartet began to play the quadrille.
A peculiar sense of calm overcame her, she would not need to worry about anything else while Will was there. He had that dangerous smile, one that you could just get lost in, and when their arms locked for the dance she did not want to let go.
They danced and laughed and danced some more, he frowned when he had to pass her away onto another partner, and she smiled when she got back to him.

Stop. Everything in her mind told her stop.

To her appreciation the music came to a halt, and she bowed to her partner, a breeze brushed past her that made her heart flutter. She was confused, why was she so overcome with this foreshadowing feeling? She looked around the room, and- jinx it. There he was. Staring right back at her. The set of his hair, his stoic stance, those soft eyes looking into hers from across the room. Benedict.

She could feel herself going paler by the second, fearing she may faint from panic.

"I am afraid I must take my leave." She managed to choke out.

"Victoria, are you feeling quite alright?" Will asked, brows furrowed worriedly.

"Yes, I am sorry, I hope to see you soon. Thank you for the dance." She smiled and then fought her way through the crowd, eyes dead set on the doors that led out to the garden. She smiled at those few that looked her way and managed to maintain her composure, she picked up her dress and broke out into a faster pace, aching to feel cool air on her skin.
Her breathing became so rapid that she was clutching at her throat, begging for it to let the air pass. Please oh please. She thought, I cannot suffer this today, he cannot see me like this.

The cold breeze and greenery brought her back down to earth, she continued to walk away into the garden, walking down the path next to the flower beds. Footsteps behind her were growing closer and she realised she was not yet alone. But at this point, it was stupid to keep walking, so she stopped and pretended to admire the flowers.

"Miss, you mustn't wonder alone at night." His voice. She just about flinched at it, that voice was her childhood, her home, her everything.

"The garden is beautiful, is it not? I just wished to admire it." She answered, gulping as her mouth grew dry. It was time to bite the bullet, she turned to face him. "You must return to the ball, I am sorry to have lead you out here."
His looks were one of an angel, and she was drowning in his chorus. She saw it in his eyes, the hurt at her return, at her nerve to show her face again.

"You speak as if you do not know me." He spoke.

"Maybe I do not, it has been years after all."

"Five years, and you pretend as if you do not know me?" He repeated. "I know you. You are still as imprudent as the day you left."

If hearts were made of glass, you would have heard Victoria's shatter and fall to the ground, making a bloody mess of everything.