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There had been many things Sophie had resigned herself to never having as she grew up: a loving father, a season in London, and finding a man who would love her regardless of the fact she was a bastard.
Only after her father's sudden and terrifying health scare six years ago, from which he miraculously recovered, did Sophie get one of them. Not a loving father. No, the earl still regarded her with cold, dismissive indifference as he always had, but he had decided she would have a season in London when she turned eighteen. Much to her stepmother's indignation.
She still ended up being twenty and one when she was finally got it, due to her stepmother's over dramatics and stubbornness preventing her from going when she turned eighteen (and the years after), but Sophie didn't care. She was finally going to London. She was finally going to a ball.
She'd been over the moon with joy. She'd even been grateful that Araminita cared so little for her for once.
They had gone to the modiste to get dresses for the season first thing upon their arrival in London. Once Rosamund and Posy's measurements were taken and Araminita's demands for their designs taken down, she left almost immediately. Leaving behind Sophie and a lady's maid. Sophie had still been standing on the platform, Madame Delacroix's tape measure wrapped around her body right below her bosom, as her step-relatives hopped into the carriage and left them behind. Posy had given an apologetic smile as her mother forced her out of the shop.
"What a wonderful woman," Madame Delacroix had remarked sarcastically after realizing what had happened. "No matter, we will figure out your gowns together then."
The carriage had thankfully returned by the time she and Madam Delacroix had decided upon gowns in the colors of champagne, rose, and light green for her season. Sophie would now have her own defined style compared to the muted blues Araminita put Posy in and the bold purples Rosamund usually wore. Sophie had been most excited about the gown created for her first ball. The one with pearls switched into the layer of tulle over dark silver, satin fabric. She would be able to wear simple pearl earrings and a matching tiara from her grandmother's collection to go with her gown since Araminita refused to let her touch any of her jewels.
She'd kept her excitement to herself, having no desire to give Araminita and Rosamund any ammunition to use against her. Or a reason to make her time in London difficult. Being polite to them constantly was exhausting enough, but Posy had already promised they'd stick together for the night. It gave her stepsister an excuse to get away from them as well. Sophie could tell Posy was happy to finally have company in London beside her mother and Rosamund for once.
The earl had agreed to attend the first ball of the season, hosted by Lady Danbury, with them. It made the carriage ride rather cramped, and they were also late, her stepmother's preferred way.
"Once we introduce ourselves to Lady Danbury, we can find refreshments. Mama and Rosamund usually head off with the Cowpers. They'll keep close to the dancefloor," Posy whispered, their arms linked together as they made their way into the manor.
"And we will…?" Sophie asked.
"Go in the opposite direction of them, of course," Posy smiled, and they both chuckled, trying to avoid the attention of the others as they walked ahead of them. "As long as we stick together, we'll be fine on our own."
Lady Danbury's home was beautifully decorated for the event. It was wonderful. She'd gone with a bold theme of divinity for the night's event, with her manor brightly decorated in gold, white and black to match. It went well with the many marble statues and busts placed around the rooms and hallways.
Upon their entry into the ballroom, decorated in the same color scheme with large bouquets of different white and yellow flowers, they made their introductions to Lady Danbury. She appeared rather dismissive of Araminta (although the same could be said coming from the latter), but she smiled brightly at Sophie and Posy.
After speaking with Lady Danbury, their small group began making their way around the room. Sophie was confident the earl would not spend the entire evening with them, and it appeared that Araminta had spotted the Cowpers. He'd most likely depart off where the married men went and not return until he had decided it was time to leave. Rosamund took her time approaching Cressida and her mother. Sophie knew Rosamund hated the younger Cowper. The two ladies had recently fought bitterly while their families were promenading in the park, spitting hisses and insults like vipers as the four of them had walked behind their mothers. Sophie found it funny how much the two disliked each other, given how many things they had in common. For instance, personality.
Glancing around the room, taking in the crowd, Sophie found many young men in attendance. It was challenging to gather who was married and who was not though. She didn't know enough about any of them; she would have to rely on Posy for identification and introductions.
"There are quite a lot of them, are there not?" Sophie joked to her as she nodded towards a group of younger men discussing themselves across the room. The three of them were slowly making their way around the room.
"There seems to be a lot when you leave with an empty dance card. Then you begin to recognize how few of them there actually are," Posy remarked sadly. Posy was now on her third, whereas Rosamund was now on her fourth, and only one of them had had men calling on them in the initial days of her first season.
But Rosamund's icy looks matched an even icier personality, which Sophie was sure turned off many potential suitors from calling on her again. Something the elder Reiling sister struggled to recognize. But Posy was incredibly sweet and witty, which infuriated Sophie that she would be looked over solely because of her plump, curvy figure.
"Well, it is their loss then. You're a wonderful dancer Posy," Sophie told her, which was true. Posy had always been praised by the dance teacher who came to Penwood Park, while Rosamund couldn't go one step without hitting a shin or stepping on a toe. "Besides, we'll have more time to ourselves tonight. I doubt any of them will be interested in me."
"They'd be silly to dismiss you," Posy encouraged, rubbing her arm. "You have so many wonderful talents, Sophie."
Sophie couldn't help but disagree with her stepsister. After hearing how the men of the ton had treated Posy during her first season, she was sure they wouldn't waste a moment of their time on a lowly ward like her.
But she had already decided to make the most of her time in London. Once the earl finally put his foot down by declaring he had business in the city, Araminta had no excuse to deny her a trip, and Sophie knew it would be her only visit. Sophie knew she wouldn't find love if she didn't find a suitor on her own this season. The earl had already expressed finding one for her. There wasn't much she had to offer the gentlemen around her to make herself eligible in their minds.
"And your thirty-thousand-pound dowry," Rosamund commented snidely next to them.
Sophie blinked, stunned. Silence descended around the trio. She suddenly felt keenly aware that multiple eyes were watching them. Glancing around, she realized the string quartet had finished playing at the worst moment, right on cue for everyone to hear Rosamund's remark.
Everyone and their mothers were currently staring at the group. Araminta and the earl, a few feet away, were also staring, her stepmother's horrified expression turning to rage. Sophie's cheeks burned as she found herself suddenly at the center of attention. Everyone in the room now wholly aware of how much money she'd bring to a marriage.
"You did not just say that out loud?" Posy gasped softly at her sister. Even Rosamund seemed somewhat surprised everyone had heard her, icy blue eyes wide.
"Wonderful job, Rosamund," Araminta hissed after making her way over to them, no doubt furious that all the men in town would now be chasing after Sophie's dowry and not her eldest child. Sophie became despondent, knowing she wouldn't hear the end of it when they returned to Penwood House. Her night ruined before it even began.
Sophie's nerves only worsened as the earl gave an exasperated sigh. Her stomach dropped. She'd disappointed him; she knew she had. He'd let her come here to have a season, and the first thing she'd done was embarrass him. He commented about heading to the smoke room as he passed them, while in front of her, Sophie spotted a few men beginning to make their way towards her. Eying her the way stray dogs do meat hanging in a butcher shop window.
"Excuse me," Sophie squeaked out as she moved past her step-relatives towards an open bay door she spotted when they walked into the ballroom. "I think I need some air."
She'd forgotten all about the dowry. A recurring argument in Penwood Park after Araminita found out, given Rosamund and Posy's dowries were five thousand each. Even Sophie had never figured out why it was that high. She'd guessed the earl wanted to have her married off quickly, to someone who would not complain if they discovered she was illegitimate.
And now everyone in London would know that a simple, lowly ward had the dowry of an heiress. She'd never find love now. She probably wouldn't get a moment of peace either. Her whole season would be spent fighting off the advances of dowry chasers. How was she supposed to think any of them weren't only speaking to her for her money? What if they realized who she actually was?
She felt tears springing to her eyes, clouding her vision and preventing her from seeing the tall figure rounding the corner at the same time she did.
<+>
Benedict had played enough of his part for the night.
Pleasantly conversing with a few ladies, only done to placate his mother's desire to see him marry by making it appear he was looking, and danced once with Eloise and then Penelope before making a quick escape outside to get some air.
He knew his mother wanted him to settle down, he'd made his escape to the quiet outside before his mother could appear with another debutante on her arm he just had to meet, but he found he couldn't. He didn't feel anything when he spoke with any of the young women, and most of them turned him off immediately by referring him to the "second son" or, worse, "the other Bridgerton." Utterly oblivious to everything about him besides his last name.
Stubbing out his cigarette on the ledge before flicking it into a nearby shrub, Benedict decided enough time had passed for him to return inside. He'd probably find his mother to say goodbye before taking his leave.
He rounded the corner to head back to the bay doors leading into the ballroom he ran straight into someone. He didn't realize till the last second as they were almost a foot shorter than him. He took a pinned updo of golden curls and a metal tiara to the face as a young lady collided with him.
"Apologies," the young lady blurted immediately, hands shooting up to grasp the tiara on her head before it slipped off.
"It was my fault," Benedict assured, stepping back. "I wasn't looking."
Benedict was taken aback at the sight of her. She was a beautiful, willowy blonde in silver and pearls. Practically sparkling in front of him. Her green eyes though were red-rimmed, and her cheeks a dark pink hue to them. The poor girl appeared flustered and embarrassed, and Benedict felt a sudden protective urge toward her. The need to defend her against whoever it was who'd upset her.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
The young lady sniffed, nodding her head at him but unable to make eye contact. "I'm fine."
"You don't look fine," Benedict said, pulling out the folded handkerchief from his pocket and handing it to her. "Here."
She thanked him softly, taking the piece of silk and dabbing the corner of her eyes with it.
"Has something happened?" Benedict asked. He made sure to keep a wide berth between them, keeping an eye out for any other attendees. The last thing he needed to do was cause her a scandal and his mother another one.
"No, no, I'm alright. I think all this pollen is just getting to me," the lady replied, obviously lying.
"Someone hasn't done anything untoward, have they?" Benedict asked carefully.
She shook her head vigorously. So, it was a matter between ladies. Benedict knew how nasty some of them could get, even towards his sisters. Whatever exchange had been made, it had clearly stung.
"Whatever was said, I'm certain no one else will believe it," Benedict said, and the young lady only laughed.
Dabbing her eyes. "Oh, they will."
"I wouldn't let it get to you," Benedict advised. Telling her the exact phrase he gave his sisters, typically Eloise, whenever one of them was particularly irked by a comment they'd heard. "Most likely, people will forget about it by the week's end."
"About my dowry? Forgive me, sir, but I'm certain they will not forget that."
No wonder she was so upset. Benedict guessed it was probably a small one, given how upset she appeared over it. He could understand being embarrassed, but he didn't think it would cause her issue. A petite beauty like her wouldn't have any difficulty securing a match. Many men were willing to overlook a small dowry for a beautiful wife. Frankly, he'd never thought about the importance of a dowry, given his own inheritance.
Benedict crossed his arms over his chest, feeling the need to be helpful. "I'd be more than welcome to tell you which men are worthy of your time. If their aptitudes are a concern of yours?"
The young lady thought it over before nodding.
"Well, I wouldn't pay any time to anyone with the last name Crauford, history of gambling problems in the family. Lord Godwin has a similar issue but with alcohol. Sir Palmer will only discuss his time fighting with Wellington, which was not a lot. Lord Calvin wouldn't know how to handle a ledger even if you did it for him. And you stay well, well away from Nigel Berbrooke," Benedict explained before adding a few more names of men who would mishandle her dowry.
She nodded along as he spoke, appearing to be memorizing every name he gave her. "And are there any men I should be?" she asked hesitantly.
"Well, that would depend on what you want in a marriage."
"What about you?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Are you someone I should be spending my time on?" it wasn't said to be impolite, more mischievous. The young woman was trying to hold back a smile. God, she was lovely to look at.
Benedict smirked. "You must not know who I am?"
Her eyes widened, the faint blush returning to her cheeks. "Oh! Are you someone important? Tell me you are not - not that I…I mean…I mean no offense, sir. I do not know many in London, I'm afraid."
He smiled, finding her flustered state rather adorable. "Benedict Bridgerton."
Her green eyes were like saucers. "I'm… I'm Sophia-Sophie Beckett."
The Earl of Penwood's ward. Anthony had mentioned the reclusive earl was in London on business. He must have brought his mysterious young ward with him. It explained why he did not recognize her. From what he head heard she had spent most of her life in the country estate of Penwood Park. And if she was a ward, it confirmed Benedict's suspicions of her dowry.
Sophia then gave a small, polite curtsey. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bridgerton."
"The pleasure is mine, Miss Beckett," he replied.
"Are you enjoying your evening?" she asked politely.
"I am," he told her. It was partially the truth.
He was enjoying it now. Now that he had met her. He'd recently found the balls and parties he'd attended to be rather dull. He found the debutantes and eligible ladies even more so. But there was a sweet mischievousness to the young Miss Beckett. She may not know a lot about the ton, but she didn't seem dim nor naive. And her delicate features appeared to hid a toughness he could tell was there deep down. He doubted being a ward was easy. But, she carried herself with the same grace and care as any other noble ladies he'd met in his life. She didn't deserve the cruelness of someone disclosing her dowry publicly.
"I'm sorry about what happened, Miss Beckett," he said.
"It was not your fault."
"Still, I'd hate for it to ruin your evening."
"It's alright. I will figure something out."
"If it helps, any smart gentlemen should be able to overlook it," Benedict assured her. "If they truly care for you, why would it's amount matter?"
Sophie blinked. "You really think so?"
Benedict nodded. "I certainly have never been able to understand the need of them. I was under the assumption us men were supposed to be the providers."
She chuckled softly and Benedict couldn't help but smile knowing he had been able to make her laugh.
"May I ask what you plan to do now?" he asked.
Sophie pushed the fabric of her gray shawl, which hung between her elbows, up over her shoulders. Covering her arms. "I think I may just hide out here a little longer."
It was a cool early April night, and Benedict did not wish to leave her out here to catch a chill. He couldn't spend the night outside with her, not if he didn't want to put her honor at any additional risk. It was a miracle no one had spotted them so far. And Sophie did not seem comfortable returning to the ballroom.
But he had a sister who hated these events, who was currently inside somewhere, most likely doing everything in her power to evade their mother. A sister who would probably like Miss Beckett as much as he did.
"Wait here," he told her.
"I'm sorry?" Sophie frowned, confused.
"I doubt it would be a good idea for us to be alone out here. If someone were to stumble upon us..." Benedict watched as the realization crossed Sophie's face. "But, I have a sister inside who would be perfectly happy to keep you company."
"Oh! That's very kind of you, but I do not wish to be-"
"It's no issue. I'll go find her. Her name is Eloise. Stay right here. I'll have her come to you," Benedict explained as he moved around the corner, back towards the ballroom.
"Will I see you again?" Sophie called out suddenly.
Benedict stopped, turning back to face her. "Do you want to?"
"Well, yes…I…I've quite enjoyed your company," Sophie smiled.
Benedict couldn't help but smile. He immensely enjoyed her company too. "Then I shall call on you tomorrow, Miss Beckett. I do hope you have a good night."
"Same to you, Mr. Bridgerton," Sophie responded.
Quickly moving through the ballroom, Benedict was able to spot his sister hiding out in the hallway leading into the room, glowering and any man who took a step in her direction. He didn't see Penelope with her. He wasn't sure she and Penelope were speaking again yet.
"I have a job for you," he whispered as he arrived next to her.
"Oh, do you now," Eloise smirked, scribbling names on the dance card tied to her wrist.
"You want an excuse to get out of here?"
Eloise's head snapped up. "Of course I do."
Benedict explained the situation and told her where Sophie was, hiding outside. Eloise saw it as a perfect escape from socializing. A reason for disappearing their mother couldn't criticize. Just as he had thought she would.
"I heard what was said. I think one of the Reiling girls, Rosamund, said it. Just declared it to the whole room," Eloise explained, shaking her head. "I knew her to be a back bitter like Cressida Cowper, but I didn't think she had the gall to do it publicly."
"And Rosamund is…?" Benedict asked, peering into the ballroom. Reiling was the last name of the earl's wife before they married, making Rosamund his stepdaughter.
"The blonde in the gown of lavender and pink. Looks like Cressida's twin," Eloise answered, and he spotted Rosamund Reiling, pink-faced and sour looking, fanning herself as she stood next to a smiling Cressida. He almost laughed. They did look eerily like twins.
"Well, I'm off to find this Sophie Beckett," Eloise announced as she stepped past him. "I shall see you tomorrow, brother."
"Thank you, Eloise," Benedict thanked. His sister waved him off as she reentered the ballroom, sneakily making her way to the outside. He decided the only thing he had left to was say goodnight to his mother.
He wanted to get some rest before tomorrow.
<+>
She was the first one awake the following day. Sophie had found it difficult to fall back to sleep after everything that had happened the night previous.
Posy had found her while she was waiting outside. She immediately apologized for what Rosamund had done, which Sophie told her was fine and she needn’t be apologizing for something her sister did. While Posy told her what happened after she fled the ballroom, a brunette in pale blue suddenly appeared and introduced herself as Eloise Bridgerton.
Sophie very much liked Eloise after the evening they spent conversing. She was sharp-tongued with even sharper wit, and the two got along very well. The three spent the rest of the evening together, before the earl finally decided it was time to leave. She'd hardly felt able to sleep once they returned to Penwood House, but somehow felt alert and excited as she made her way down the stairs the next morning.
And now, she was the first one at the dining table for breakfast. The earl was the next one to wake. He was surprised when he saw her already at the table but said nothing as he took his seat at the head and began reading the paper. Sophie did not expect a conversation with him as they waited for her step-relatives to join them.
“I spoke with Rosamund,” he said suddenly.
“I’m sorry?” she asked, her spoon halfway to her mouth.
“Your dowry will remain the same. Not that I could change it now. And Rosamund knows not to go around advertising it or risk having hers disclosed as well,” the earl said stiffly, not looking up from the paper as he spoke.
“Oh...thank you, sir.” Sophie finally said.
The earl only nodded and returned to reading his paper. Araminta, Rosamund, and Posy arrived a short time later, her stepmother declaring she would be leaving with Rosamund after breakfast to promenade. Sophie excused herself shortly after, heading to the parlor room. The butler had already walked in twice to inform them gentlemen callers were waiting for her. Araminta’s face was becoming more pinched by the second, and she didn’t want to stick around to hear whatever comment it was she wished to make. The earl had already folded his paper up, heading off to the parlor room to chaperone giving her stepmother the perfect opportunity. When she opened her mouth to say it, Posy quickly interrupted and told her she’d be there once she’d finished breakfast.
She spent the better part of the morning speaking to many, many men, including Sir Palmer and Lord Calvin (and she promptly told Posy to discard their cards once they left). She found the constant conversing tedious and boring, wondering if the one man with a crooked smile and lovely pale eyes would arrive next.
Finally, the butler walked in and said. “A Mr. Bridgerton is here for you, miss.”
Sophie perked up with excitement at the name; a slight squeal slipped out before she had a chance to stop it. The earl raised a brow at her curiously from where he sat on the other side of the room, making Sophie cough in an attempt to cover her actions.
“Which one do you wonder it is?” Posy whispered, and Sophie passed her the calling card given to her by the butler. She glanced at it. “Oh! It’s the second one.”
Sophie kept her eyes on the doorway, waiting for Benedict to walk through them. And finally, he did.
“Good morning, Miss Beckett,” Benedict said, a bouquet of bright colored tulips in his hands. He nodded his head towards her. “Benedict Bridgerton. Might I say how lovely you look today.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bridgerton. Please do sit down.”