Benedict Bridgerton was resigned to his life. Every day was the same. He woke up before the sun rose and worked at the factory all day from six in the morning to six at night. Then he went home, to help his mother tend to his 6 younger siblings. His older brother Anthony and younger brother Colin worked at the factory with him. Life was monotonous and money was always tight. But Benedict was still grateful for his large and loving family. Going home to them is what made his days worthwhile.

Benedict's father had died when he was only 16, leaving his family without an income. The three eldest sons immediately had to begin earning a living to keep the family afloat. As a result, the boys very quickly had to grow into men, with responsibilities and stressors. Anthony never complained. He couldn't. He had to be strong for all of them. As the second son, Benedict had only slightly more leeway. He was a dreamer, his mind always off somewhere beautiful, somewhere without the daily reality he faced.

The family matriarch, Violet, was their rock. She loved all of her children fiercely. In spite of their circumstances, she encouraged her children, telling them they could accomplish anything they set their minds too. Benedict would like to believe this was true. He desperately wished that one day his whole life would change, and he would be able to reach for his dreams. But for 29 years, things were mostly the same. And Benedict had accepted his lot in life.

Sophie Beckett had everything. She was young, beautiful, and her family was very wealthy. They also happened to be well-liked, which never hurt.

Sophie was 21 and in her first season in London. As the only child in her family, she was expected to marry and provide her wealthy husband with an heir and a spare. Of course, she didn't have a husband yet, but when she did, it was assumed he would be wealthy. Prominent members of the ton married other prominent members of the ton. They created the next prominent generation and so on and so forth.

Sophie's mother and father were very formal people. They loved her very much of course, but they were proper English people, so they were well put together and often repressed their emotions. They attended balls and luncheons, smiled at other families (even the ones they disliked) and were well-respected members of society.

Sophie wanted for nothing. And yet, she was hopelessly, wretchedly BORED.

Now one must understand that Sophie was not ungrateful. She was aware of her privilege. She loved her parents and her horse that she rode often. She appreciated the fine dresses she was able to wear and loved spending time with her friends. But Sophie longed for so much more.

She was an avid reader, and the Beckett's large library provided her with many books to get lost in. Yes, she read the classics and studied her French from dusty old textbooks. But what Sophie really loved were romance and adventure novels. Getting lost in the stories of heroes and villains, daring maidens and their handsome princes, castles and forbidden desires. Those books were the one place Sophie could escape. When her life seemed like it could be so much more than it was now.

Sophie Beckett dreamed of her life suddenly changing in a magical, unexpected way. But her whole life was already planned out for her and she knew it. And so, Sophie accepted her lot in life.

"God damn it," Benedict grunted as clocked out of work for the day.

It was raining in earnest, soaking the cobblestone outside, and soon, his coat.

"Come on Ben," Anthony replied. "We'll have to run the whole way if we're going to have a chance."

Benedict groaned. The Bridgertons flat was at least a mile from the factory, even if one took the back alleys and side streets to avoid the street traffic.

"I don't know about you lads, but I need a stiff drink when I get home," came Colin's cheeky retort. "This has been the longest week in forever."

Benedict didn't disagree. Now that the London season was in high gear, production at the fabric factory had ramped up considerably. With so many members of the ton needing new dresses and suits and God knows what else, the work on the assembly lines had begun moving at a rapid pace.

Benedict didn't mind hard work. What he did mind, however, was how mind numbing it could be. It was the same thing every day, working the line, delivering the fabrics to modistes and men's shops, and then returning to the factory to do it all over again. Talk about monotony.

"Don't forget Ben, you promised to help Francesca with her maths while I go over the finances. We might end up working overtime next month because Mother says that the flat needs some work," Anthony reminded his younger brother.

Benedict would have sighed if at that moment thundered hadn't rumbled in the distance.

"Time to go boys!" Colin. "Last one back has to help Mum with dinner!"

The three Bridgerton brothers took off at a sprint, slipping and sliding as they raced each other home.

"Sophie darling you must stop fidgeting!"

Sophie glared at her mother, exasperation all over her face.

"Really, I'm trying but the lace on this dress is so ITCHY."

Her mother let out a long-suffering groan. Her only daughter, whom she loved dearly, really had so much to learn still about being a proper young lady.

Sophie knew that was exactly what her mother was thinking. Sophie fidgeted too much. She rambled when she was nervous. She had a terrible habit of biting on her bottom lip instead of smiling sublimely when she was given a compliment. The truth was, Sophie wasn't terribly comfortable in formal surroundings. She knew she ought to be. She'd have the training. She was proficient on the pianoforte and could carry a tune, her watercolors were improving every day, and had perfected not wringing her hands together and instead holding them delicately in her lap.

But Sophie always felt just slightly out of place. Instead of attending balls and parties, she would have rather been reading or painting or riding her horse. Her father said her head was always "up in the clouds". Maybe that was true. But Sophie didn't see anything wrong with dreaming about more, even when she knew she couldn't have it.

Her mother's voice brought her out of her reverie.

"I truly think we have to go with the pink gown. It will look wonderful on Sophie's complexion."

For once, Sophie didn't disagree with her mother's assessment. Sophie knew she was pretty. She wasn't vain, but she was no homely wallflower either. She was petite, but with a strong frame from her years of riding. Her hair was honey blonde, and fell well below her shoulders when it was free from her usual formal updos. Her eyes, well, she always got comments about her eyes. Some men had compared them to glaciers, other men to the cliché sky or ocean. Sophie tried to smile and thank them, but it always felt insincere to her. She wanted them to compliment her mind, or her wit, or her accomplishments. But all her suitors ever did was praise her face. Sophie feared that was all her future marriage would be based on as well. Good looks and good breeding. Not love or passion or anything like she longed for in her romance novels.

And now she was about to suffer through another evening of mindless chatter. Lord and Lady Featherington were throwing a grand party. Many members of the ton whispered that it was because Lady Featherington wished to finally find matches for her three unmarried daughters. They were all infamously on the shelf, with no marriage proposals. By inviting every eligible man in London, it was clear Lady Featherington was scheming.

Sophie knew this party would be just like all the others. She was excited about her dress at least, she thought ruefully. It was a beautiful blush pink, with delicate embroidery on the skirt and sleeves. She had a lovely ribbon at home to match with it, which her maid would surely twist and turn through her hair in a delicate and becoming fashion. Sophie had to take pleasure in small things at times like these, when she felt like the walls of society were closing in on her. She was aware of her own expectations, and knew she needed to make a match this year. She wasn't a spring chicken anymore, and she had turned down four proposals now. Her parents were getting anxious.

But in the deepest recesses of her heart, locked away where no one knew was Sophie's most fervent wish. She never said it out loud, only hoped for it in her head over and over as she looked at the stars from her window each night.

"Please, PLEASE, let mine be a love match."

Benedict's Saturday began like any other. Up early to tend to his siblings. Off to run some errand for his mother. Hopefully back in enough time to clean up and actually go out for some drinks with his brothers. Even his days off were always the same.

Except that day, they weren't.

"Boys!" came the light voice of Violet Bridgerton.

Benedict walked across their tiny living area to his mother's side. The Bridgerton flat was not spacious by any means. Benedict shared a bedroom with his three brothers, while his sister Daphne, Eloise, Francesca, and Hyacinth shared the other. Their mother had her own small bedroom. One bathtub had to be shared among the nine of them, and the space was cramped, leaving little room for any personal belongings.

Benedict's only cherished possessions were his paints, charcoals, and brushes. He had an artist's soul. When he found himself finally alone (which rarely happened), he would travel outside the city, into the rolling hills that surrounded it and he would find a comfortable tree to lean against and sketch. When the flowers were in full bloom he would take his ancient easel with him, and attempt to capture their vivacity and beauty. It was the only place where Benedict was truly at peace.

"Benedict," his mother said as he settled next to her at the rickety table, kissing her cheek affectionately.

"Yes Mother?"

"A wonderful opportunity has presented itself."

By this time, Anthony and Colin had shown up, each leaning against the wall as they noticed the excitement in their mother's voice.

"And what might that be?" Anthony drawled.

"Lady Featherington is throwing a large party this evening!" she nearly yelled.

The brothers exchanged looks amongst themselves, Benedict raising his eyebrows questioningly.

"Yes Mother but what does that have to do with us?"

Violet's face beamed.

"She's advertised in the paper for local men to work at the venue. They need extra footmen and servers due to the amount of people who will be attending."

Again, the three men looked confused.

Violet sighed.

"Oh for goodness sakes I put your names up and she has written to say she has accepted all three of you as help!"

For some reason, thought Benedict, Violet seemed to believe this was a good thing.

"Mother," he said slowly. "I do not wish to seem ungrateful, but we already have jobs. And this is a rare day off. Why would we want to spend it at a stuffy ball, where members of the ton will look down on us and make us feel lesser than?"

"Hear hear," Colin echoed.

"No one can make you feel lesser than unless you let them," Violet said proudly.

Benedict rubbed his hand tiredly over his stubbled face. His mother was so good, so kind, and sometimes so blissfully ignorant as to how society viewed them. They were common folk. They lived to work hard, cater to the rich, and die. Even the Bridgertons, who were mildly better off than their neighbors were still on the outer edge of sophisticated society.

"Besides," Violet continued, "the wages are too good. Lady Featherington is offering enough to each of you that it will pay for three months' rent and then some."

Benedict's jaw dropped. That was more than he made in a month at the factory, let alone one night.

Besides, it would be something different. A change of pace for once.

Looking at one another and coming to an unspoken consensus, Anthony spoke for the trio.

"Alright Mother we shall do it."

And little did Benedict know, but that was the first night of his new life.