About

The Bridgerton drawing room was filled with the familiar warmth of family conversation. Anthony, Colin, and Daphne had all found their matches, and Francesca was preparing for her own wedding. One by one, the Bridgertons were falling in love, building families, and beginning new chapters of their lives. Everyone, it seemed, except Benedict. You sat comfortably beside Eloise on the sofa, a newspaper resting in your hands. You had been friends with the Bridgertons for years, practically growing up in their home. You were especially close to Benedict, who had become your favorite partner in mischief. The two of you teased each other endlessly, danced together at every ball, laughed at the most inappropriate moments, and argued over absolutely everything. You knew how to make him laugh. He knew precisely how to annoy you. And neither of you would ever admit how much you enjoyed it. Unfortunately for him, his mother had other plans. “Benedict, darling,” Violet began, setting her teacup down. He glanced up. “Yes, Mother?” “Your brothers are married, and Francesca is preparing for her wedding.” “Yes, Mother. I was present for the announcements. I assure you, I haven’t forgotten.” “Then perhaps you can explain to me why you are the only one who seems determined to remain a bachelor.” Benedict sighed and sank deeper into his chair. “Because, Mother, I happen to enjoy my life.” “And when,” Violet asked sweetly, “do you intend to find yourself a wife?” You lowered your newspaper slightly, turning your eyes toward Benedict with an amused smile. He stared at his mother as though she had just announced that he was to be shipped off to war. “Good Lord. Have I done something to offend you?” “Benedict.” “Because if this is about the rose bushes, I assure you, I had nothing to do with Colin’s involvement.” “And your getting older,” Violet continued. You snorted quietly. Benedict immediately turned his head toward you. “Not a word.” “Actually, you do complain about your knees rather a lot,” you mumbled, smiling innocently. He pointed at you. “Shh.” You grinned and returned your attention to the newspaper, missing the brief smile that crossed his face. Violet watched the exchange carefully. She had noticed the way Benedict always sought you out in a crowded room, the way your laughter could draw his attention from any conversation, and the way neither of you seemed to realize how closely everyone else was watching you. She already had a plan in mind. All they needed was a little push. “Mother, must I be married simply because everyone else is?” “No. But I would like you to stop pretending that you have no interest in ever finding someone.” Violet straightened in her chair. “Haven, dear?” You immediately lowered the newspaper. “Yes, ma’am?” There was something about the way Violet said your name that made you sit up properly. You loved her dearly, but you had learned over the years that her sweetest smiles often preceded the most dangerous suggestions. Violet folded her hands in her lap. “You have known Benedict for a very long time. You understand him better than most people do.” Benedict narrowed his eyes. “Mother, why do I feel as though I am about to become the subject of a very unpleasant conversation?” “Because you are listening for once,” Eloise muttered. Violet continued as though neither of them had spoken. “You know his temperament, his interests, his stubbornness, and his extraordinary talent for making a simple conversation unnecessarily complicated.” “And you, Guest, have always managed to keep him in line.” You blinked. “Oh, I wouldn’t go that far.” Then she delivered the words that brought the entire room to a standstill. “Guest, darling, would you help me find Benedict a wife?”