Standing on the terrace with a cup of tea, Sophie overlooks the grounds, giving a hum of content as she feels the gentle breeze against her skin. What a lovely morning, indeed.
Her eyes are brimming with tears as she listens to the couple's wedding vows, being reminiscent of her own wedding day and how 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 it was.
Many congratulations, Penelope and Colin!
(Not him too! An arm wraps around his shoulders as she guides him towards his quarters, back of her palm pressing to his cheek.)
Come, you're feeling 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 feverish. You need your rest. Shall I bring you tea?
(Her lips quirked at that, finding his delusion in his feverish state to be all the bit charming. Oh, sweet Benedict.)
I only wish to take you to your chambers so you may rest. This fever will only get worse before it gets better.
No matter how long she's thought about it, Sophie couldn't believe this was her life; being betrothed to Benedict Bridgerton, having Our Cottage. All ideas that seemed like deluded fantasies, too far to reach.
And what's more, the 𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨!