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bella notte
act i , distant memories
chapter sixteen , illicit affairs

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        BELLE WINCED SLIGHTLY as she felt the soft glow of early morning light creep through the small gap in the drapes and gently caress her face, guiding her into consciousness.

A peaceful hum left her lips as she slowly blinked open her eyes, her gaze settling on the narrow stream of light as it peaked through the dark blue drapes drawn across the window ...

Dark blue drapes.

Her body tensed a little as she took in her surroundings. The drapes in her room were not dark blue, but instead a deep green — she remembered them being as such due to remarking upon her arrival in the guest chambers of the Bridgerton household how nicely they complimented the hearthrug.

There was also no hearthrug in this room, nor a hearth. It was smaller, still sizeable and pleasant, but smaller than those rooms of the guest wing. She couldn't take in much more of the room without turning her body and disturbing the slumbering man beside her.

Belle pressed her lips together to suppress a small chuckle at the circumstances, his chin was resting in the crook of her neck, her back pressed against her chest from where they curled into one another in their sleep. His arm was thrown across her, keeping her close and warm beneath the bed-sheets.

Her gaze fixated on his hand where it rested gently by her side, upturned slightly so the white outline of his scar from the rose-bush was just visible, she smiled at the sight.

He shuffled slightly beside her, causing her to shake off her tension and relax back into his embrace, feigning a sigh as she closed her eyes once more.

"I know you're awake." A soft voice whispered in her ear, croaking with sleep as a small smirk spread on her lips.

"At least you're not as dense as you look." She mumbled, causing a light laugh to emerge from the man beside, she relished in the feeling of the laughter rumbling in his chest and gentle sound as it rang in her ears.

Opening her eyes, softly, she watched as his hand travelled up her exposed arm, his fingers dancing softly against her skin, sending a small shiver up her arm.

"What time is it?" She all but whispered, her gaze still on his hand.

"Nearly dawn." He replied, his voice as low as hers, as she let out a soft sigh.

Belle shuffled where she lay, turning her body towards him, her face towards his. She laid her eyes upon him, her dark hair tussled from sleep, his grey eyes wincing a little as they adjusted to the faint morning light, the crooked smile on her lips as he regarded her — her heart clenched.

"I should go." She whispered, pressing her lips together, as her eyes bore into his.

Benedict furrowed his eyebrows at her statement, shuffling a little where he lay, removing his hand from her arm and instead hooking it around her waist beneath the sheets, pulling her close to him in objection.

"Stay." He replied, earnestly.

Belle gave a gentle chuckle, as she raised her hand to his face, resting it gently on his cheek.

"And give your footman a heart attack?" She quirked an eyebrow, as he pressed a kiss to her palm. "Was it not yourself who scolded me merely a month ago about the impropriety of overnight guests?"

Another chuckle shook through Benedict at her impertinence.

"At least you don't have to climb out of a window." He challenged her, at which she pressed her lips together to suppress a chuckle at the memory, "Stay another five minutes."

Belle conceded all too easily, despite all rationality, the thought of leaving his warmth; his arms; his embrace was one she shook away, as he pulled her even closer to him, chest to chest, her nose brushing gently against his, as he took a deep inhale, her fingertips ghosting over his face.

"Do you regret it?" She heard herself saying in an almost whisper.

Benedict surveyed her silently, as he reached towards her, running his fingers lightly through the dark strands of her hair that were falling across her face, tucking them aside allowing for him to see her face clearly.

"I regret nothing." He replied, solemnly.

Belle pursed her lips with a slight disbelieving chuckle, shuffling to sit up a little, allowing for his arm to slide around her.

"Not even the party? I was hardly a saint."

Benedict regarded her with a soft expression, shuffling so that she could curl into his side, he let out a slow sigh.

"No." He replied, causing her to lift her gaze to his. "In fact, realising that it was you, looking back I'd daresay that was one the best nights of my life."

Belle let out a humoured scoff, swatting his chest lightly as he chuckled at melodramatic phrasing.

"Oh, hush!" She scolded, with a roll of her eyes, chuckles gently shaking her as she lay her head upon his chest.

"Do you?" He asked, after a moment, his fingertips gracing her hair ever so slightly. "Regret it, I mean?"

"No." She replied without hesitation and with a gentle shake of her head, a soft smile on her face, as she lifted her gaze to meet his. "It was wonderful."

A soft blush dusted the Bridgerton's cheeks as he reciprocated her smile, bringing his face closer to hers, their noses gently brushing once more, as their arms wrapped around one another.

"Yes, it was." He muttered against her lips, before closing the gap between them in a kiss that stole the breath from her chest, she gave herself over to him, surrendering in his embrace, swearing that breathing him in was just as good as breathing air.

***

"AT LAST, HE ARISES!"

Some hours later, the Bridgerton family and their guests had congregated for breakfast in the dining room. Belle had been politely engaging with Violet about the previous days' festivities when Colin's amused outcry had interrupted their conversation.

Belle turned her head to see Benedict standing in the doorway with a nonchalant expression on his face as he moved towards the table and slipped into the empty chair on her right.

The two had parted when the sun rays had been too brilliant to ignore and the arrival of their respective footmen and ladies maids was all too impending. After clumsily dressing themselves in their discarded clothing from the evening prior, the pair had separated with chaste kisses and gentle touches before Belle snuck her way back down the corridor, unnoticed, to her own chamber.

His late arrival at breakfast had been their plan by design with Belle arriving perfectly intact and on time, and Benedict stumbling in fifteen minutes late, having seemingly only just arising from his sleep — the question of their spending the night together seemed highly unlikely.

"My apologies, everyone." Benedict addressed the group, as he pulled a napkin onto his lap and one of the footmen approached him, beginning to plate him up a helping of breakfast.

"Are you feeling quite alright, dearest?" Violet arched a brow at her second eldest son. "It is very unlike you to rise so late."

Benedict initially waved off his mother's concerns, as the footman stepped away and began tucking into his breakfast.

"Well, I didn't catch a lot of sleep last night."

Belle felt her breath catch in her throat at his choice of words, and gave a sharp cough of surprise which was quickly remedied with a glass of water, hastily passed to her by the viscountess.

Coming back to her senses, Belle shot the man a pointed look at which he only responded with a smug smile as the conversation continued around them.

"Ah, yes, the horrid rain." Violet mused, with a light shake of her head, patting Belle's arm gently before returning to her own breakfast.

"Yes, the rain." Belle muttered, trying her best to suppress a chuckle and ignore the burning gaze of the man beside her, who was looking equally amused.

"Did it disturb you as well, Belle?" Anthony asked, quirking an eyebrow as he glanced up from his plate, turning his attention to the Grantham girl sat on his diagonal.

"No, no, not a bit." Belle hastily dismissed his concerns. "I actually slept incredibly soundly."

"What is that mark on your neck?"

The confused exclamation from Hyacinth stilled whatever normality had resumed since Benedict's entrance. The young girl was regarding her older brother with a concerned gaze, her eyes fixating on a faint purple mark peeking out from just above his collar.

Belle let out a rather unladylike snort at the sight, as Benedict's eyes widened in slight panic.

"What?" Benedict quirked an eyebrow at the young girl, who was now not the only one gazing upon his neck, with Gregory and Nicholas rising from their places to look.

"That mark?" Hyacinth persisted. "Do you see?"

"Yes, I see it." Colin smirked from beside his younger sister, knowing full well what the mark was.

"Me too!" Nicholas chirped up as Gregory moved over to his brother, and made a grab for the collar of his shirt to get a better look.

"Let go!" Benedict shook off his younger brother, making to conceal his neck.

"Did you hurt yourself?" Gregory asked, still standing by Benedict's chair.

"No, I did not—"

"Then perhaps it's a sign of illness!" Colin cried out, doing nothing at all to assist the children's hysteria earning an exasperated look from his mother and throughly amused expressions from Anthony and Belle.

"I do not want to get ill!" Hyacinth cried.

"Is Benedict ill?" Nicholas cast a panicked glance towards the adults in the room.

"Children, calm yourselves—"

"You could have influenza." Gregory piped up.

"I am fairly sure I do not." Benedict snapped back at the young boy.

"Now, are you quite sure?" Belle smirked, turning in her seat towards the man. "Your simple mind could all too easily become muddled if plagued with influenza."

"We simply must call for a doctor!"

"Could everyone please get back to their breakfast?" Benedict silenced the group, who after a few firm stares from Anthony quickly resumed breaking their fast.

Belle chuckled as a soft lull washed over the table and slowly the conversation resumed, shooting her gaze back down to her plate.

"We'll have be more careful next time."

Belle smirked a little at the whisper that went unnoticed by the rest of the table as it fell on her ears, and she felt his hand move to rest gently upon her thigh beneath the table.

She brought her gaze to meet his, narrowing her eyes playfully, as they darted between his and the small purple bruise on his neck. Their shared look confirming that they both remembered just how it had got there.

"Mr Bridgerton, I don't have the faintest idea what you are talking about."

𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖆 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖐𝖘!
happy v day x

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