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THE SILENCE IS DEAFENING. Henry allows himself to reflect on the conversation, on the dirty deed he did on behalf of Benedict's loving brother. If the world was different, Henry would have invited Benedict to tea, to France, and would kiss Benedict in bed on a beautiful Paris morning and ask for the honor of marrying him. If the world was different, Henry would hold his hand in public, kiss him, go off into the gardens with him at every opportunity. "You speak of wanting to marry him. You speak of Benedict finding a wife who is, comfortable and accepting of this circumstance. Yet, do either of you consider how . . . idealistic and unrealistic this can be?"

He hates how Anthony had been right. Henry can not give Benedict security or a position or even shield him away from the pain and suffering of the world. It is better that Henry nips this in the bud now, before Benedict gets in too deep --- had he not already, Henry? They had been reckless with each other, and Henry has been this reckless once before. Now that they have been found out by someone who would never give their blessing. . . this is safer. Benedict could find someone else, love someone else. There are plenty who would find him appealing, who would love him deeply. How could one not love the second born Bridgerton? 

Henry inhales sharply as Benedict goes for the door, and he stares at the floor -- anywhere else but Benedict. He closes his eyes together tightly, trying to cope with the sadness he feels in his bones. Henry's shoulders feel heavy, and his chest is tight -- and he may start sobbing if he's not careful. He just needs to wait until Benedict leaves, and then he can drink a bottle of absinthe and ride the way until his boat ride in the morning. 

But Henry does not hear the door open. He opens his eyes and tilts his head up to Benedict. As he's about to question him, Ben is on him, kissing him with searing passion. Henry is weak and wanting, and he kisses him back. He cups his cheeks and kisses him back, moving one hand quickly to the back of Benedict's hair to keep him close. He doesn't want this; he doesn't want to be apart from him. Henry has finally found such joy. He cannot express how his relationship with Benedict differs from his one with Alfred Wetherby, but it does. It was deeper, more fulfilling, more fun. It is hard to let Benedict go. So Henry does not, not now. 

It is always worth it. Benedict whispers against his lips, and Henry is lost. He kisses him back desperately, pressing against him, wrapping his arms around Benedict's neck, keeping him close to him. He cannot do this. He cannot let him go -- he must, he must. "Stay, tonight," he begs, overcome with emotion. "Stay tonight with me. Tomorrow, we must -- we must --" He exhales a soft little sob and kisses Benedict again. 

Tag: Benedict Bridgerton

IF ONLY LORD BRIDGERTON COULD SEE, if only he could witness the pain he is putting on his brother. Henry is trembling. Fuck, this pleading is so reminiscent of the pleading he'd made to Alfred. To beg him to see differently. How dare he put Benedict in this position? Oh, it hurts, it wounds him deeply seeing Benedict this way, professing his love and trying to fix what wrongs he might have done. When Ben brings up the garden, Henry's stomach tenses. He feels as though he may be sick. They were not safe out there, but Henry allowed himself to be wooed by Benedict and his smile and the way he touched him. . . the way he loved him. Benedict makes him feel youthful, brings joy in him that he could not remember feeling. . . 

And it must end. 

It is hard to speak again, as his throat tightens once more, seeing that look shining in Benedict's blue eyes. Say it back, Granville, he tells himself. It takes courage to live on the outskirts of society. All of the hiding, all of the living in fear. . . "I know." He says softly. "I know. . . but I am afraid. . ." He cannot lie to Benedict and tell him he does not love him. That would be too cruel. Nor can he be as dismissive as Alfred had been. "I am afraid you do not know the danger you put yourself in. . . that you put your family in, Benedict. We made a grave mistake, the two of us." He wonders if that is enough to hint that maybe, maybe this is outside of his power. 

"We cannot continue this. We have been fooling ourselves of our purposes in life. I cannot give you everything I wish like this. I would... I would marry you, in a heartbeat, if things were different, Benedict. You have my promise for that, but in this life... we must make difficult choices. And I am making this one for us. For our benefit. This is safer, Benedict. We cannot continue."

There are tears in his eyes, and a stray one trickles down his cheek. This is the most painful thing Henry has ever done. Fuck Anthony Bridgerton.

Tag: Benedict Bridgerton 

HENRY SITS IN HIS STUDY THAT MORNING, rubbing his hands over his face, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. Yes, the parties were fun, the clandestine nature hiding away what was considered illegal and indecent in society. Henry prided himself of a man of freedom, but there is always that danger. He rubs sits there quietly, hiding his face, when he hears footsteps coming toward the room.

"Are you certain this is what you want, Henry?" Lucy asks softly from the doorframe. He glances up to her with a forlorn look, and she frowns. "You have been through much heartbreak as of late, my darling." She approaches him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Is ... is there no other way, Henry?"

"How can there be?" He asks and looks up at her, meeting her eyes as his own glaze over. "I have become used to others choosing what's honorable over love. Benedict is so new to this. . . he does not understand the lifetime of pain, of. . ." He holds back a sob, and Lucy's squeezes his shoulder tightly. "I should save him from this, from becoming me." 

Lucy brushes the tears away as they fall, and she pulls him to her. Henry pulls himself together after a few moments. This afternoon will be difficult, but it ... will be what's best. Lucy leaves them alone, going off to tea at Lady Danbury's home. And so Henry waits, counting down the time until he hears the knock at the door. 

It is hard to stay forlorn when Benedict looks at him with such warmth and life. . . and love. . . "Benedict," he greets, "do come in." He closes the door, and then he is greeted by a kiss. What a kiss it is! Henry reaches to place his hand on Benedict's chest, and he intends to push him away politely and finds he cannot. "Mm," he hums, and he lets himself relax against the door. He knows he would marry Benedict if he could, especially with the way his body just relaxes when touched by him. Alfred had been so lovely, but Benedict was someone else entirely. 

"Benedict, I. . ." He whispers, so close to him still. Henry keeps his eyes closed a moment, leaning to nudge his nose. It is hard to be away from him. They are reckless together, and he should tell Benedict. This was a matter for the Bridgertons, and Henry has been collateral. . . but he has been thinking of it all night. It had been hard to sleep. Should he let them have one last afternoon together? No, he should not string Benedict around like this. He opens his eyes and reaches to gently brush his hands over his chest. "Benedict, I am afraid that this. . . between us. . ." He cannot look at his eyes, so he stares at his collarbone, his neck. "It has to end. I have been doing some thinking, and I. . . it is not right for me to hold you back from. . . finding happiness. True happiness." It makes him sick just to say it. 

Tag: Benedict Bridgerton

THIS IDEOLOGY IS WHY HE HATES SOCIETY. It is why he chooses to live the way he is supposed to in the daylight and hide away into the shadows at night. He feels absolutely filthy as Anthony speaks to him. He feels disgusting, degraded, derided. "No, why would you?" He asks quietly. "Your mother and father were the picture of romance when they presided together at balls." He does not meet Lord Bridgerton's eyes as he approaches. He cannot. 

He is deeply considering the other's words. The... it was not hated. It seems Bridgerton had some decency in him, but the rest was unforgivable. He was everything that was wrong with this -- "Do you think I would be married to a woman if I did not have to be? Do you not think for one second, I would marry your brother?" 

Oh.

Oh, he did not mean to say that. Not so bluntly. Henry is not used to being the impulsive one between him and Benedict. His eyes have glazed over. "Benedict knows his duty to society, and his duty to a wife. We all do, do we not? But there are opportunities for women that they cannot have before marriage. I am sure your wife feels the same way to an extent. She is freer for it now. Do you think Benedict could not find a wife similar to Lucy? A woman who would want her liberties to do whatever she wished, be whoever she wanted to be, with the security of a man in high position?"

He pauses, and he remembers himself. Henry inhales a sharp breath. "This is not a -- dalliance, Lord Bridgerton. What you are asking. . ." Must he go through another heartbreak? There will always be a scar from how Alfred wounded him, but Henry fears losing Benedict more. There is something so different about his relationship with Ben that is so beautiful. They are perfect together. Lucy had seen it, too, the joy he had. . . He looks up to the ceiling, tears burning in his eyes. How weak he is to be so emotional in front of this man, but what he is asking for. . . what he is demanding. 

"I love him. Does that mean nothing? Does that truly mean nothing to you, Lord Bridgerton? That I love him, and he -- he loves me? Men like us are no strangers to hiding. . . to feeling so foul to hide in the shadows. Benedict can still find a suitable wife who can keep his secret safe, should he desire." He's considering, though. Is he holding Benedict back? He is older than him... and it will be expected of Benedict to have a wife of high society. Are there others like Lucy? There must be. Or even better, a woman who prefers the company of other women. That could be a fortuitous arrangement. . . 

But he feels as though he will be losing another beloved. Henry considers again, quiet, staring at Anthony's chest instead of his head. Did Benedict love him? Or did he love the idea of this kind of freedom? His lips purse together, and he finds himself laughing ever so softly as a tear trickles down his cheek. "You are asking such a horrid thing, you know." He whispers, "but men like me will never be happy, it seems. Our happiness is fleeting, because we must hide away. Like animals. Like... scum." Henry has known a lifetime of pain. It is why he is no longer talking to his family outside of the social politeness. 

"Benedict should not be subjected to a life of that," his voice is hoarse. "Not when he still also favors the company of women." And he turns away from Anthony as more tears fall down his cheeks.

"I will... end it."

Tag: Anthony Bridgerton

HENRY DOES NOT RELAX; he remains still there, knuckles still white. His heart has started pounding in his chest, and self preservation is at the front of him mind. "I am not absolving myself of anything. I very much wished to be with him that night, but with our kind, we have to be careful. Or else, this." And he motions between the two of them. "I do not blame Benedict. I was reckless. I am usually much more private about these things." Henry feels like he's got a bitter taste in his mouth, and he rises to the corner of the room to pour himself that drink.

Out of courtesy, he pours Anthony one, too -- in spite of the fear he feels creeping up his neck. Anthony Bridgerton will never know the fear. Perhaps even Benedict will not; he is too young, too new to this. And Henry has considered that he might be a phase, a stepping stone for the younger Brigderton, to get this out of his system before finding a good wife. It is no secret to Henry that Benedict is also interested in women; his wife certainly had enough to say about their encounters. 

Henry walks over to Lord Bridgerton and places down the glass of brandy. He sips his own, walking away from him again. He stares at the window in the room, listening to Anthony go on about marriage and infidelity. He rolls his eyes with his back still facing the other. "Do not pretend to know the business between me and my wife, Lord Bridgerton." He glances back to Anthony, looking a bit more... worse for wear. Confident is not the word. He is frightened of this. The only consolation he has is that if Anthony exposes him, he must expose his brother as well. "Lucy knows and approves of Benedict. She has always been a keen friend in making sure I am happy, as I have been with making sure she is happy. You may have married for love, and I applaud you for such an accomplishment in this environment. . . but many in the Ton do not marry for love or companionship. They marry for power, for money. Lucy and I married for convenience, and for friendship. She did not wish to be carted off to an older man who would not love her, who would use her only to sire his heirs."

He should not be giving Anthony the intimate details of his relationship, but perhaps it will help him understand. "Men like me," he says, turning again to face Anthony, "we do not have the luxury of choosing the true person we want to be in. Say what you want about honor. All I ask is that you consider that maybe your brother is happy with me. And if... Benedict will marry one day, may he find happiness in it. I would not stop him." Henry's eyes suddenly sadden as he remembers when Alfred tore his heart into pieces. That final statement came off... rawer than he anticipated. The pain is apparent. He does not expect Anthony to care. 

Tag: Anthony Bridgerton

LORD BRIDGERTON OOZES DISCOMFORT. Henry stands there with a curious gaze as Bridgerton struggles to keep eye contact; Granville is no stranger to masking emotions, all things considered. He has to do it doubly well considering his situation. "Very well." He nods and moves to sit across from him, keeping his back straight. Although he may not be dressed for it, Henry becomes the picture of polite gentleman, tilting his head curiously. 

Bridgerton asks about Lucy, and Henry feels his stomach twist in knots. "Lucy is out for the afternoon." He comments, and then he relaxes his shoulders somewhat. He hates this. "Forgive my -- bluntness, Lord Bridgerton, but please. Out with it. Why have you come to my home unannounced?" He may not have Anthony's position, but he still has the blessing of the queen. He is older than the man in front of him, and he hates this beating about the bush. 

"Does this have to do with your brother?"

Tag: Anthony Bridgerton