Its So Strange. Ive Never Felt So Peaceful, Before. - From Thomas (@setauketloyalties)

“It’s so strange. I’ve never felt so peaceful, before.” - from Thomas (@setauketloyalties)

"You find peace strange?" Curiously, Anne eyed him, searching his features for any sign of deception. When she couldn't seem to locate any sense of jest, she sighed, nodding along with his sentiment. She knew all too well how foreign a single moment of peace could be. Most of her time was spent around three young girls, so serenity was hardly ever an option and, when it was, it was short-lived. But it was different for men. Or at least she thought it was. "Well, I'm glad I was to help offer at least a sliver of peace. As fleeting as it might be."

❛  no one beats me, no one wins my game.  ❜

"And why is that?" Anne narrows her eyes, watching him with careful scrutiny. She feels like she knows the type of man he is, feels as though she's met hundred of versions of him in her lifetime, and yet she can't be entirely sure he's exactly the same. After a moment, she leans in closer, her gaze growing more pointed. "Is it because the game's rigged? Because you don't want anyone to win?"

“That must’ve been it, then. My rambling about A Midsummer Night’s Dream must’ve been what endeared you to me in such a fashion.” She smirked. “Perhaps I shall refrain from speaking of what novel I’m reading as of late, then, lest I seduce you any further.”

She couldn't drag her eyes away from him as he wrung out the moisture from his hair. Anne swallowed, watching his hands, yearning to reach out and hold him and never let go. Her fingers itched to reach out and comb back his hair and to savor the feeling of his closeness. But she shakes her head, trying her damnedest to shove any such thoughts out of the forefront of her mind.

“Well, my head and I thank you for your mercy.” Biting back a grin, Anne gave a dramatic bow. At his last comment, however, she couldn’t hold it in and a loud, rather unladylike snort escaped her. “Only comely? Here I thought I’d be at least a lovely or, dare I say, useful paperweight. Though I suppose I haven’t done very well at proving my usefulness thus far, have I?”

Out of the three girls, Harriet had been the one most taken with Shakespearean works. Frances held no strong opinions on many things unless they included unicorns and Elizabeth preferred her mystery novels over her younger sisters' plays. In reality, Anne herself wasn't very familiar with other playwrights. She knew authors and the historical figures her own governess had taught her in her youth, but she wasn't knowledgeable about, well, anything when it came to theatre.

"If you have any recommendations for better reading materials, I am open to suggestions. My knowledge of the performing arts is painfully limited to the great Bard, and Moliere." Anne let out a sigh, feigning distress at having to admit her own shortcomings. “If I were to be cast as Viola, I might have to rely on you for a costume. I’ve already worn your clothes once before. What harm could a second time do?” A lot, she thinks. An awful lot.

“You are not an idiot.” She pressed, a firm tone refusing to accept such comments. It wasn't exactly a scolding cadence, but it was incredibly similar to the tone she took on when the Pleinsworth girls took to fighting one another. “Foolish, perhaps. Naïve at times.” And incredibly, wickedly, tragically beautiful.

“Yes, it was clever, I suppose, but entirely uncalled for.” She blushed furiously, a mixture of anger and embarrassment colliding within the confines of her chest. If she hadn't been so struck by how badly she wanted to kiss him again, she might've shook with annoyance at such a careless prank.

“As much as I take pleasure in teasing you, I would never stoop so low.” Cheeks brightening and eyes wide, Anne lowered her voice, as though even the ripples in the water could not be privy to her sentiments.

“Someone could’ve seen you, Ben. Someone who would've admired the view much less than I.” Anne winced at her own words, but trudged on. “N-Nonetheless, I highly encourage a firm scolding when you return inside. And if you aren’t up for it, I certainly will. Mister Bridgerton may have thought it a measly joke, but he put you in danger. He… He could’ve gotten you fired, o-or worse.” She didn’t want to think about worse, not when a mere two weeks sentence had made her heart yearn so much. A lifetime without him would surely be enough to kill her.

“It's funny, I was hoping the next time we met, we might speak about the... predicament we've found ourselves in.” Anne swallowed, desperately pushing the memory of his lips out of her mind. When she started again, her tone was softer but just as serious as she wrapped her arms tighter around herself. “But I'm not sure this is the right time to discuss matters of the heart, either. I'm beginning to think the time will never be quite right.”

Unbidden, flashes of skin came to mind and Benjamin flushed, the color burning along his cheeks and up to the tips of his ears. "I'm afraid it will take far more than ankles and toes to seduce me, Miss Wynter," he said. "I'm a man of simple tastes: one offer of opening a book, and I'm yours."

Wincing at the implication -- could he do or say nothing right as of late? -- he cleared his throat before taking hold of his hair, wringing excess water from his sodden locks while meeting her gaze. Anne's eyes were so wide and impish and blue -- so, so very blue -- that he momentarily lost his breath and looked away again, startled by the wave of yearning crashing restlessly against his heart.

"I’ll be sure to designate my dismembered head to you in my will.”

The joke startled him back to attention, and with a soft, husky laugh, Benjamin assured her, "I think I much prefer it attached, thank you very much, but I appreciate your generosity. If nothing else, I suppose I could use it as a comely paperweight."

Humming at her Anne Boleyn assessment -- it wasn't the most pleasing outlook -- he agreed, "Perhaps we need to get Frances to read some Shakespearean comedies for a while instead. I would much rather see you donning the garments of Viola than poor Queen Anne."

Unbidden, a hint of ruddy embarrassment nipped at his cheeks. The thought of her clad in men's clothes, albeit innocent on the surface, conjured thoughts of legs and hips, and swallowing low in his throat, he chuckled to mask the rising heat beneath his collar. "Um...on second thought, perhaps she should steer clear of Shakespeare altogether."

Anne continued to tease him -- Lord above, why couldn't he focus? -- and snapping his eyes back up toward her face, Benjamin blinked a moment as he struggled to comprehend. Her mouth was moving -- well, there he went being distracted again -- but he couldn't quite get a proper grasp of the words.

"I'm...sorry, I...think I must've gotten water in my ears," Benjamin deflected.

Right. Smooth recovery.

Anne narrowed her eyes. "Do you me asking how exactly you managed to get into this predicament in the first place? I saw Mister Bridgerton take your clothes, but... that doesn't explain why you were without them in the first place." Finally, her expression turned a touch mischievous. "Care to explain yourself, Mister Tallmadge?"

"Not in particular," Benjamin said, fighting back a smile. "But since you asked so nicely...Gregory convinced me to take a swim, so I agreed. I didn't want to get my clothes wet, and I also didn't wish to borrow anyone's garments, so..." He shrugged, sheepish. "In short, I'm an idiot, Miss Wynter. I should've seen behind his schemes the moment he spoke." A flash of fond amusement warmed his eyes. "Still, it was rather clever of him, wasn't it? I'd say I taught him well, but he's never been privy to my own pranks."

“It’s not a slight against you, Lord Bridgerton, I swear it. I just... don’t think it would be wise for you to be seen with me.” Her cheeks burned with shame. She felt awful rejecting his offer, and his gentle humility only made her feel worse. In truth she would have minded dancing with him. Although it had been a long time since she’d taken to the dance floor, there were times when she missed it. And the idea of dancing with a handsome bachelor made it even more alluring. But it was too risky. And she valued her job more than her pride.

“Dinner?” She blanched. How would she go about such a thing? It would be impossible to slip out unnoticed but it would be equally as difficult to explain to Lady Pleinsworth why a governess was attending the dinner of a viscount—and a notoriously rakish one at that. Being seen with him could very well be enough to get her fired, and then she would be back to square one.

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly… I-I would not dare to impose on something as sacred as family dinner. Though I have a feeling you are not likely to accept that as an answer.” Smiling sheepishly, she bit at the inside of her cheek. “My Lord, I insist there is no favor to repay. Just your gratitude is sufficient. I need not ask for anything more than what you've already given me.”

In all his years, both as an eligible bachelor and an infamous Rake (with a prominent capital ‘R’), Anthony Bridgerton was certain he’d never once received such a blatant declination from a woman – any woman, for that matter. None but this one, anyway. It surprised him, intrigued him even. 

While it stood to reason that holding fast to the arm of a Viscount would certainly earn Miss Wynter plenty of attention (albeit of mixed opinions), he simply couldn’t fathom why she wouldn’t relish the opportunity to have it, excluding the wagging tongue of one Lady Whistledown. Aside from that nuisance of a gossip column. Wouldn’t any young woman want to be the center of attention? 

Furling his fingers into his palm, Anthony retracted his hand and straightened his stance, though he could hardly accept the defeat. 

“I respect your refusal to take to the dance floor, however you must permit me to compensate you in some way, Miss Wynter.”

But how? How could he possibly demonstrate his gratitude if the woman wouldn’t so much as be seen with him? 

“Perhaps you’d be more inclined to join my family and I for dinner tomorrow night?” 

Just because I am a prince doesn’t make my life a fairy tale. / from day!

“I…” Anne’s words trailed off as she tried to formulate a reply that didn’t sound entirely ignorant. She knew that lives were rarely fairy tales, even for those with the world at their fingertips. She had been one, once upon a time, but even then her life had been far from magical. “I did not mean to make it sound as though you were living a fairy tale. I merely meant that it must be rather freeing to live such a life. A life of freedom and luxury. That's all I meant."

Deeply Exhausted Starters

"You can barely stand, you need to lie down."

"When's the last time you slept?"

"You're not fooling me, I can see the bags under your eyes."

"Rest is not optional!"

"You promised you wouldn't stay up all night reading."

"I'm just - exhausted - I'm sorry -"

"I can't remember the last time I slept."

"I just want to rest for a bit."

"I'm so tired, I can't think."

"I'm trying, I am, I just... I just wanna lay down..."

"No, I'm not tired. Leave me alone."

"It doesn't matter, I can't sleep anyway."

"Leave me alone, I'm an adult, I choose when I go to bed."

"Oh, like you're any better?"

"I'm not even that.. that tired, I'm... mm, I'm fine."