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bella notte
act i , distant memories
chapter eight , inspired minds

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"I CAN ONLY ASSUME THAT your sister no longer being hounded by that dreadful Berbrooke now that she has seemingly secured the Duke's affections?"

Belle posed the question in the rocky carriage ride she shared with Benedict and Colin, the former who was sat on her left and latter opposite her, as they made their way to the chosen ball of the evening, following closely behind the carriage containing the Viscountess, Anthony and Daphne.

The afternoon had passed her by in spectating a few rounds of the brothers fencing that afternoon - in which Benedict had won much to Belle's chagrin. An occasion preceding his conceited invitation to teach her the sport in which promptly told him that she was very well acquainted with commanding a fencing foil and he should be so lucky to duel her.

Leopold had been all too easy to convince to spend an evening at home. He, himself, had even admitted to feeling rather worn after the events of Vauxhall where a few to many brandies had been poured, leaving him more than to hand Belle over into Benedict's supervision for another evening.

"I think you're getting ahead of yourself." Benedict replied to her question after a moment of thought, giving a light scoff. "They merely danced together a few times last night."

"And will again tonight, I presume?" Belle cocked an eyebrow.

"You and I have done the same, Belle." Colin quipped with a light laugh. "Have I done enough to secure your affections?"

"The wedding invites shall be sent out tomorrow morning." Belle narrowed her eyes at the younger brother with a small smirk and changing her manner as she faced Benedict with a resolute expression. "Nonetheless, is she rid of the beast?"

"Let us hope." He mused, leaning back in his seat as he surveyed her. "I have no desire to have him as brother in law."

"Quite." Belle found herself grimacing as Colin nodded along.

"A rather vulgar thought indeed."

***

"GO DANCE WITH YOUR SISTER."

Belle found her laughter being interrupted suddenly as Anthony entered her and Benedict's midst, placing a firm hand on his brother's shoulder as he commanded him.

"Why?" Benedict gave a disgruntled whine.

"Because I asked you to!"

Benedict squared his jaw a little as he looked between Belle and his brother, letting out slight scoff of frustration.

"Brother, I have-"

"Go."

The second eldest son gave another scoff, as he promptly set his glass of champagne down upon a surface. He shot Belle an apologetic look before shrugging his brother's hand off his shoulder, and making his way in long strides across the dance floor towards his sister.

"Belle, go and busy yourself." Anthony now turned his attention to Belle, taking her glass from her, earning in response a disappointed groan. "Dance with Colin."

"Ugh!"

Anthony guided the girl in the direction of his brother before quickly departing from her and rejoining the swathes upon the dance floor - no doubt, some minor scheme of his now in motion.

Her eyes followed the man as he left, only to see him swiftly pull the Duke aside as he was promptly switched out on the dance floor by Benedict.

Belle gave a shirt hum of suspicion before shaking off her disgruntled manner as she wove in and around various guests, Belle at least reached Colin who was contently stood at the side of the ballroom in happy conversation with his mother and Lady Danbury.

"Belle!" Violet Bridgerton greeted her in surprise, her eyebrows furrowing quickly as she realised the girl was unaccompanied. "Where's Benedict?"

"Where's the Duke?" Lady Danbury followed up, her eyes darting away from the dance floor in slight confusion.

Belle waved off the questions with a short sigh and indifferent expression.

"It's all Anthony's doing." Belle clarified, nodding in the direction of the Viscount, who was stood across the way. "I thought perhaps one of you might be able to provide some insight as to that little heart to heart?"

"Oh my." Colin remarked at the sight of the heated conversation clearly occurring between the two men.

"Anthony has promised Daphne's hand to Lord Berbrooke." Violet remarked after a short moment, clarifying the situation for her three counterparts.

"I beg your pardon?" Lady Danbury cried in an apparent outrage.

"Precisely."

"But what of the Duke?" Belle countered.

"I assured Daphne this morning that once Lord Berbrooke witnesses the seriousness of the Duke's intentions, he would surely see sense and retract his proposal."

"And is he serious?" Belle quirked an eyebrow, looking between the two elder women. "The Duke? In his intentions?"

"Mother, it was only a couple of dances." Colin shot his mother a look at which she quickly disregarded him.

"And a promenade this morning." She retorted. "I saw how he looks at her. There is no one else."

A weary glance passed between Colin and Belle as Violet's adamant statement silenced their conversing, their attentions quickly transferring back to the dance floor where Benedict had been quickly abandoned by his sister who had caught wind of the heated discussion happening between the Duke and her eldest brother.

"What has happened?"

Belle felt Benedict's presence beside her before she heard his voice but nonetheless silenced him with a quick wave as she narrowed her as eyes and tried to make out the words exchanging between the Duke and the two Bridgertons siblings across the way.

"Shh. I can't hear them!"

"They're ten feet away in a crowded ballroom." Benedict reminded her with a knowing smirk on his lips that she did not care to respond to - instead opting to smack his wrist to convey her emotions.

The small crowd of them, that had huddled together to spectate the conversation, quickly dispersed as they witnessed Anthony and then eventually Daphne depart, causing them to launch into pretend conversations and bear vacant expressions to cover their nosey tracks.

A small smirk emerged on Belle's lips at the sight of lonely Duke, her mind quickly concocting the perfect way to obtain the information she so desired.

"I believe the Duke owes me a dance." Belle hummed in a voice only loud enough for Benedict to hear as she straightened her shoulder.

"You don't have a dance card." Benedict tutted, at which Belle feigned a sigh, narrowing her eyes at the smirk on his lips.

"Well then, I suppose I'll have to cut in." She responded with a light shrug, before reaching out and patting his chest with a smug expression. "Don't get too lonely without me."

The Bridgerton merely rolled his eyes at her words as she turned away in pursuit of the Duke, leaving him to investigate the location of his next glass of champagne.

The Duke had barely moved a foot before the Grantham girl accosted him with a raised eyebrow, a tired sigh leaving his lips before she had even opened her mouth.

"Your Grace." She greeted, a slight bow of her head before nodding towards the dance floor. "Do me the honour?"

"I don't suppose I have a choice?"

"Of course not." She stepped forward and linked her arm with his, guiding him towards the centre of the room.

A small silence steeled between the duo as they waited patiently for the music of the former dance to subside before taking their own place as the musicians start playing another version of the quadrille.

Honestly. What Belle would have given for a dance the slightest bit jauntier.

"Are you honestly going to make me ask?" The girl cocked her head towards her friend, who merely scoffed in response.

"Are you honestly going to pry into business that isn't yours?" He mocked her question, with an amused smirk.

"I beg to differ." Belle mused, pressing her lips together indifferently. "Your business is my business. You know I'll find out one way or another."

Another sigh left Simon's lips as they progressed through a few more counts of their dance, before his gaze hardened and he divulged.

"Miss Bridgerton is no longer promised to the Baron Berbrooke."

Belle contained her reaction at the news in order to obtain more details - however, it was desperately hard not to a let out a hearty laugh of relief at the thought of Daphne being free of such a man!

"And why, pray tell, is that?"

The Duke paused to collect his thoughts, as he span the girl expertly - Belle would never dare say such a thing to his face but Simon certainly was a fair dancers

"I'm sure you've noticed his ... injury."

"It would be hard not to notice it, the man looks a state." Belle chuckled, remembering how she and Benedict had excused themselves from a conversation upon seeing the man on their arrival, having left to go snicker away in a corner.

"I don't suppose you've heard the tale of how he sustained it?" Simon continued with his leading questions.

"Was it your doing?" Belle's eyes widened, and at which the Duke quickly dismissed it.

"No, no." He replied, but continuing in a lower voice. "Miss Bridgerton's."

"I'm sorry?"

"He attempted something last night I shan't dignify with words."

Both his words and tone of voice told Belle all that she needed to hear for her blood to start boiling, her nostrils flaring as she began scanning the room for the Baron so that she might also give him a piece of her mind - or perhaps her fist?

"The beast." She muttered.

"Be grateful she is now rid of him." Simon concluded the topic with a sharp look at the girl who nodded understandingly.

"Certainly." She spared him a small smile, before changing the subject. "And what of you?"

"Hmm?"

"I never thought I'd see the day that the formidable Simon Basset would seem so smitten with a miss." Belle chuckled, raising an eyebrow at the man, who shook his head with a light laugh.

"Smitten?" He repeated, giving a light tsk. "Your imagination truly runs wild."

"What happened to not having any time to socialise?" The Grantham girl countered, her eyes narrowing as she tried to gauge the sincerity of the Duke's intentions.

"Circumstances change."

"Indeed they do."

"What of yourself and Mr Bridgerton?"

Belle found herself caught off guard by his questioning, a small expression of confusion donning her face as the Duke only smirked back at her.

"Benedict?" She clarified, "why, he's my oldest friend."

"Friend, is he?"

"My fellow troublemaker." Belle smiled fondly at the thought.

"You seem well suited."

Now, it was Belle's turn to scoff and shake her head, as the Duke chuckled at her flustered displaying of dismissal.

"Goodness, Miss Bridgerton certainly has put your head in a spin." Belle quipped back in an attempt to steer the focus back to him.

"Watch your mouth."

"Watch your feet."

***

THIS AUTHOR HAS OFTEN thought the heart a most curious of instruments, heeding neither reason nor rank.

For what possible explanation might Miss Bridgerton have for entertaining the suit of a mere baron when she seems to have secured a duke Could the debutante's mind not be the only thing amiss?

Let it be known, dear reader, that if this bizarre behavior portends yet another scandal, then be sure that I shall uncover it, for there is nothing like an excursion into nature to lift the spirits and loosen the tongue.

If Belle had been unimpressed with the scenery London had to offer, there wasn't much she could say in the way of critiquing its parks. The greenery, on such a splendid day as it was, made for an all too pleasant backdrop for the picnic she was currently attended.

The girl had meandered somewhat wayward of where her family and Bridgertons harmoniously sat, as she wandered closer towards the slow-flowing river, her attention only to be caught by a figure stood by an easel not far from the water's edge.

Her eyes surveyed the canvas, a dozen inspired thoughts crossing her mind as she watched the artist go about his work - yet it wasn't as covertly done as she'd hoped.

"I fear it's much too dark." The voice of the gentleman suddenly rang out, as he cast a quick glance in the girl's direction.

Although caught off guard, Belle did her best to mask her surprise as she approached him for a closer inspection.

"I was rather admiring the contrast." Belle disagreed, her manner polite though her gaze scrutinising.

"You have an eye for the arts." The man chuckled as he swirled his paintbrush in a pot of off colour water.

"I wouldn't say so." The Grantham girl dismissed his claims. "I merely take pleasure in observing."

"Henry Granville." He outstretched a hand which Belle took with a warm smile.

"Belle Grantham."

"Ah, Miss Grantham." Mr Granville replied with a slight hint of recognition. "I heard of your return."

"You and the whole ton." Belle gave a light tut, unable to suppress her snark.

"From Florence, is it not?" He queried at which Belle gave a pleasant nod. "Where many of the greats hailed from too. Michelangelo, Botticelli."

"Da Vinci, of course." The girl remarked, nodding along with his examples.

"Of course." He chuckled, bowing his head in acknowledgement as both of their gaze drifted back to his own masterpiece.

"It's rather nice to see some culture here." Belle confided in the artist, "I've found myself to be so far uninspired with a lot of what England has to offer."

"Florence has no rival in it, certainly." Granville entertained her point with a polite shrug. "Still, we are a country of Shakespeare, Chaucer."

"That is true." Belle conceded. "What of your own art, Mr Granville? Do you hope yourself to join the greats?"

"I hardly think my own endeavours to be so wondrous." Granville chuckled, "Alas, it is no ambition of mine. I merely do it because it is my passion." A curious look passed over his features. "What are your passions, Miss Grantham?"

Belle gave a light laugh at his questions.

"I should hardly know."

"Now that I don't believe." Granville set down his brush and folded his arms, turning to face the girl straight on. "You have an artistic eye, and hail from a country of only the most wondrous of creators. You cannot be without passion."

"As I said, I am yet to be inspired." Belle replied, a small smirk on her lips earning a light chuckle from the man.

Mr Granville paused for a moment in thought before turning away and reaching for his overcoat - that had been discarded in the summer sun - and began rifling their its pockets before withdrawing a small piece of card.

"Perhaps you would consider paying a visit to my studio." He informed her upon returning, handing over the card to her. "My wife and I see to it that we regularly entertain a host of inspired minds there across many artistic fields. Perhaps, it would provide you the inspiration that you so crave."

Belle couldn't help but smile as she turned over the card in hand.

"That's a notion that sounds very much to my liking."

"And who knows, perhaps you too could bring a unique perspective." Granville mused, mirroring her smile.

However, before their conversation could continue in any capacity, a booming shout interrupted their midst.

"Bridgerton!"

Belle's attention was quickly caught at the sound of the name, finding her gaze landing on the figure of Nigel Berbrooke as he descended upon the gathering a little way from herself and Mr Granville.

"Excuse me, Mr Granville, I must-" Belle excused herself, already beginning to make her exit. "See what on earth is going on."

If the man made any attempt at rebutting her behaviour, Belle had no chance to see it as she quickly hastened her pace and began crossing back over to where the Bridgertons and her family had now huddled.

"I bring cheerful news!"

She heard the Baron exclaim as she crossed the final few feet between herself and the group, sidling in beside Benedict and her uncle shooting the former a curious look.

"I have taken matters in my own hands and sought a special license for my wedding to Miss Bridgerton."

"There is to be no wedding." Daphne was quick to counter with an alarmed look.

"I told you." Anthony reinforced her argument. "The arrangement is cancelled."

Upon settling into the group, Belle was quick to notice Simon as a new addition, who stood beside Daphne with a thunderous look on his face as he surveyed Berbrooke. She also couldn't help but wear a similar expression of her own at the Baron's sudden appearance.

Although Belle couldn't help but since a little at the sight of the man, who now looked positively disastrous, and she was not the only one to regard such.

"Lord Berbrooke, you look in a great deal of pain." Violet Bridgerton cut in, ever the pacifist. "Shall we continue this in a more private location?"

"I require no further conversation." Berbrooke dismissed. "Though, perhaps I am finally speaking to the true head of the Bridgerton house."

The Baron shot a challenging look at Anthony who instantly squared up.

"For if it were you, I imagine you would have instructed your sister to take better care than to encourage certain attentions while alone with me on the Dark Walk at Vauxhall." A series of concerned expressions suddenly came across the company. "Of course, mere hearsay of such a scandal could wreak havoc on even the most influential of families."

Belle cast her gaze over towards Daphne whose steel reserve was slowly melting away with each word of Baron.

"What would someone like, say, Lady Whistledown do with such unseemly information?"

"Is that a threat?" Anthony bit back.

"It is certainly not. Because in three days, I am to marry." The Baron cast a smug look over towards the eldest Bridgerton daughter. "I have the diamond of the season. I have the very best the ton has to offer. I have a Bridgerton."

Belle could feel Benedict tensing beside her, and absentmindedly laid a hand on his arm, her firm gaze still firmly on Berbrooke.

"And I shall save her, as well as your entire family, from the ruin which you could not protect them!" The Baron slapped his issue upon Anthony who hastily snatched it from him.

A slight scuffle in her midst caught Belle's attention as Simon made to move forward only to be easier halted by Benedict, and if the physical barrier wasn't enough, a sharp look from the Grantham girl certainly stilled his efforts.

Satisfied with the horrible he had imparted, Berbrokke straightened his jacket and shot a smug look at the party around him.

"I look forward to the union of our great families." He nodded at Anthony, then Simon. "Bridgerton. Hastings."

And with that final infuriating statement, the Baron took his leave, leaving behind him a silent group basking in the realisation of his actions.

Belle instantly met Benedict's gaze, his face was drawn and expression as helpless as those around him, who had quickly swarmed Daphne with sympathetic expressions.

"The vile man." Belle could all but muster.

Benedict made no response, instead merely he reached and placed his hand upon her shoulder, at which she reached up and placed her own hand on top - finding comfort and stillness in one another as the world around them kept on spinning.

𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖆 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖐𝖘!
this is objective trash x

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