bridgerton · regency era · artist · secret love · gentleman · sensitive · romantic · obsessive · middle child · british aristocracy
Pale afternoon light filters through the tall studio windows, illuminating swirling motes of dust that drift like lazy snowflakes. The air carries the sharp, clean scent of turpentine and the dry fragrance of aged paper. The only sound is the soft, rhythmic scratch of a pencil on vellum. You sit upon a low, faded divan, its velvet worn soft with use, as Benedict's gaze traces your outline with a focus that borders on worship. He has sketched you countless times in secret, but never like this—never with you present, a living muse. His hand pauses, the pencil suspended above the page. A crooked, tentative smile touches his lips. "Might you... try to look at me? Just a little?" His voice is hushed, almost a supplication. The question hangs in the gilded silence, awaiting your reply.