An Offer From a Gentleman (Cinderella)

Chapter 35

“I will indeed, Mr. Bridgerton,” Wickham replied. “And might I take the liberty of informing you that she has been rather curious as to your whereabouts this past week?”

“I would be shocked if she hadn’t been,” Benedict replied.

Wickham nodded toward Sophie with an expression that hovered somewhere between curiosity and disdain. “Might I inform her of your guest’s arrival?”

“Please do.”

“Might I inform her of your guest’s identity?”

Sophie looked over at Benedict with great interest, wondering what he’d say.

“Her name is Miss Beckett,” Benedict replied. “She is here to seek employment.”

One of Wickham’s brows rose. Sophie was surprised. She didn’t think that butlers were supposed to show any expression whatsoever.

“As a maid?” Wickham inquired.

“As whatever,” Benedict said, his tone beginning to show the first traces of impatience.

“Very good, Mr. Bridgerton,” Wickham said, and then he disappeared up the staircase.

“I don’t think he thought it was very good at all,” Sophie whispered to Benedict, careful to hide her smile.

“Wickham is not in charge here.”

Sophie let out a little whatever-you-say sort of sigh. “I imagine Wickham would disagree.”

He looked at her with disbelief. “He’s the butler.”

“And I’m a housemaid. I know all about butlers. More, I daresay, than you do.”

His eyes narrowed. “You act less like a housemaid than any woman of my acquaintance.”

She shrugged and pretended to inspect a still life painting on the wall. “You bring out the worst in me, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Benedict,” he hissed. “You’ve called me by my given name before. Use it now.”

“Your mother is about to descend the stairs,” she reminded him, “and you are insisting that she hire me as a housemaid. Do many of your servants call you by your given name?”

He glared at her, and she knew he knew she was right. “You can’t have it both ways, Mr. Bridgerton,” she said, allowing herself a

“I only wanted it one way,” he growled.

“Benedict!”

an elegant, petite woman descending the stairs. Her coloring was fairer than Benedict’s, but her features marked her clearly as his mother.

“Mother,” he said, striding to meet her at the bottom of

were this past week. The last I’d heard you’d gone off to the Cavender party, and then everyone returned without you.”

“I left the party early,” he replied, “then went

His mother sighed. “I suppose I can’t expect you to notify me of your every movement now that you’re thirty years of age.”

Benedict gave her an

She turned to Sophie. “This must be your Miss Beckett.”

Benedict replied. “She saved my life

Sophie started. “I didn’t—”

“She did,” Benedict cut in smoothly. “I took ill from driving in the rain, and she nursed me to health.”

“You would have recuperated without

“But not,” Benedict said, directing his words

“Weren’t the

“Not when we arrived,” Benedict replied.

curiosity that Benedict was finally forced to explain, “Miss Beckett had been employed by the Cavenders, but certain circumstances made it impossible for her to stay.”

“Your son saved me from a most unpleasant fate,” Sophie said quietly. “I owe him a great deal of thanks.”

Benedict looked to her in surprise. Given the level of her hostility toward him, he hadn’t expected her to volunteer complimentary information. But he supposed he should have done; Sophie was highly principled, not the sort to let

It was one of the things he liked best about her.

“I see,” Violet said again, this time with considerably more feeling.

“I was hoping you might find her a position in your household,” Benedict said.

“But not if it’s too much trouble,” Sophie hastened

“No,” Violet said slowly, her eyes settling on Sophie’s face with a curious expression. “No, it wouldn’t be any trouble at all, but . . .”

Both Benedict and Sophie

“Have we met?” Violet

“I don’t think so,” Sophie said, stammering slightly. How could Lady Bridgerton think she knew her? She was positive their paths had not crossed at the masquerade. “I can’t imagine how we could have done.”

right,” Lady Bridgerton said with a wave of her hand. “There is something vaguely familiar about you. But I’m sure it’s just that I’ve met someone with similar features. It happens all the time.”

“Especially to me,” Benedict said with a crooked smile.

to her son with obvious affection. “It’s not my fault all my children ended up looking remarkably alike.”

be placed with you,” Benedict asked, “then

“Entirely upon your father,” Lady Bridgerton replied jauntily. She turned to Sophie. “They all look just like my

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