The Muse // Benedict Bridgerton

The Prince

Lucy left the library soon after she knew Benedict was gone and sprinted through the light blue halls of their residence until she finally got to her room. She shut the door, careful to do it quietly so that she wouldn't draw any unwanted attention to herself- even though she had practically just run a marathon through their house. But she wasn't thinking clearly and wanted to be alone. All the emotions she was feeling bubbled up inside her, and she knew that if anyone even said her name, she would break. Lucy stood against the door for a couple of seconds, her hand still resting on the door handle.

She then started pacing around the room, as one does. Her feelings for Benedict grew with every encounter, no matter how little it was. Yet as every day went by, those feelings and what they could potentially lead to became even more complicated for her to feel. It was already set in stone that she was going to marry James Bancroft, and if her father knew how she felt about Benedict he would never let her out of the house. She wasn't sure how much longer she could hide her emotions from everyone. Lucy sat there, on the cold floor of her bedroom, thinking about Benedict and how much she wanted to be near him and the obstacle in the form of a man that was currently present in her life. There was no way she would marry him- her father was being hysterical. No one had seen them and she was still a maid, still intact. If anyone had seen them, it would have surely made it to Lady Whistledown's papers that morning, yet there was absolutely no mention of it.

Picking herself off the floor, she made her way to the desk in her room. It was covered with a layer of disorganized papers containing a multitude of poems and short stories that Lucy had written. Taking a seat at the desk, she picked up her quill and dipped it in a pot of coal-black ink, before setting it to a blank piece of parchment and beginning to scribble down a draft of a poem. She hadn't written in weeks, since well before they left for London, but she was suddenly struck with inspiration. The only way to deal with what she was feeling was to write it down, and she knew that. After writing for a short while, a knock at the door suspended her thoughts. She still didn't want to see anyone, but Lucy thought that she was composed enough to engage in a proper conversation again if she had to.

"Come in," she said. Her voice was loud but slightly shaky. She hoped that whoever it was did not notice. The door opened and Henry revealed himself. He looked disheveled and tired, and he couldn't quite meet Lucy's eye. He stepped into the room and approached her, then sat down in a lilac-colored armchair near the window, as Lucy lowered herself onto the edge of her bed.

"Hello, Luce. I wanted to see how you were feeling" he began.

"Not the best, I'm afraid" Lucy replied, emotionless and just as reluctant to meet his eye as he was to meet hers. He looked down at his hands and began twiddling his fingers. After a few seconds, he spoke up again.

"I also wanted to apologize, Lucy- I should not have spoken to you like that the other night. None of what happened was your fault." He added.

Lucy felt the familiar burning sensation behind her eyes, and her cheeks began to heat up.

"It's fine, a normal reaction." She replied, trying to push away the tears that were threatening to fall out of her eyes at any second.

"No, it's not fine. You're my sister and I love you, and I should have been watching you the whole night. It is my fault and I'm sorry" He responded, firmly.

At that, a waterfall began to flow out of Lucy's eyes. It was as though a dam had been obstructed, and the body of water it had been protecting flooded out all at once. Henry reached over and held Lucy's hand, and it was exactly what she needed at that moment, even if she didn't know it. She loved her siblings more than anyone or anything else in the world, and now knowing that her brother did not think she was an improper and spoiled miss made her feel slightly better.