The first thing Emily did the next morning was beg her aunt to return to London early.

"Could you not say that something urgent with Kitty has arisen and we need to return at once?" She pleaded. But her aunt had refused, saying it would be in poor taste to leave their hosts in such a way.

"No one wants me here," she argued. "I do not want to be here. It is not as though there are any eligible matches for me here." Yet her aunt would not budge.

"We are only here for a few more days, Emily," she reasoned. "I am sure that you can last a few more days."

Emily wanted to scream in anger and frustration. Ever since she had stepped foot in this house, nothing had seemed to go right.

She spent the morning avoiding all people - which was a feat in itself. It did result in Emily ducking into a lot of unknown rooms. She spent a lot of time in the gallery, where few people seemed to wander.

But come lunchtime, she could not escape the hunger pangs plaguing her. Emily had now skipped two meals and she feared, dramatically, a third would be the end of her. She cautiously made her way to the dining room, but stopped in horror when she entered the entrance hall.

Everyone seemed to be gathered there. A row of picnic baskets had been set along a table at the side of the room. Emily stopped abruptly before trying to turn and exit the room. Violet, who had been standing at the front of the room, called out, "Ah Miss Hawthorne just in time to join us." She turned back around to face the room, realising she had no choice but to stay.

Violet cleared her throat, "As I was saying, it is such a lovely day I thought it would be a wonderful opportunity to have lunch down by the lake."

She turned to a footman near the baskets. "Now, let me see. Lord Fife, you should take this one with Miss Forsyth?" A basket was held up to him and the couple paired off and headed out the front door.

"And now, let me see, Mr Anderson, I think Miss Grace is still in need of a partner." She smiled at the young people as they obediently took their basket and headed out.

"Now, who do we have left?Ah Benedict dear," Emily's head snapped towards Benedict, who had been standing to one side of the room. Emily knew what was coming before Violet even spoke. Evidently so did Benedict, and he folded his arms across his chest. Violet would not look at him as she said, "I believe Miss Hawthorn is still without a partner."

The footman held the basket out to Benedict. He paused for a moment before stepping forward to take it. Emily felt a surge of adrenaline course through her, as though she was being chased by a bear. Her hands began to tremble as they left the hall in silence.

Benedict led the way down to the lake, walking almost a full step in front of her. But Emily said nothing. She followed on in silence, not even sure what she could say to him.

After around five minutes, as they approached the edge of the wooded walkway, He faintly said to her, somewhat awkwardly, "My mother is not exactly known for her subtlety."

This made Emily smile. "Really, I thought it was an incredibly masterful maneuver."

"Well, she has had many years of practice. My mother means well though."

They fell back into an awkward silence as they continued to walk. They could see the couples in front of them on the path, chatting away merrily.

Emily took a deep breath, bracing herself.

"I…I want to apologise for yesterday," she started. Benedict tilted his head towards her but did not speak.

"You are right - it was wrong of me to…to have gone through your personal things. I should not have assumed…" She cleared her throat.

"You are very talented, Mr Bridgerton." She heard him take in a small breath, but Emily continued to stare ahead. "Your works are so incredibly detailed. I understand you may not…want to put them out into the public. But I think you should be incredibly proud of your talents."

"Thank you," He said softly. "Although I believe it is me who should be apologising to you. I said some truly terrible things to you. I hope you know, I did not mean any of them. I believe the work you are doing - the will of wanting more in life - is truly commendable."

Emily looked at him, feeling warm at his praise. She had not realised how much it meant to her to hear it until this moment.

"In truth," he continued, "I am envious. That you seem to know what you want to do in life. You were correct in your assessment of me." Emily began to protest but he spoke over her. "No, you were. I do feel aimless. I have a world of opportunity in front of me and yet I am paralysed by fear of failure."

Emily was quiet a moment, while she took in his words.

"With all do respect, Mr Bridgerton, that is incredibly stupid." Benedict looked at her, shocked.

"I opened up to you and-" She held up a finger.

"It is incredibly stupid because of how talented you are. Your artworks alone should be in a gallery. But you are smart and funny and everything a young gentleman should be. I understand the fear of failure. But it is not a fear you should have. I do not doubt, that when you set your mind to something, that you will accomplish it."

Emily chose to ignore the faint blush on Benedict's cheeks as the walkway opened out in to a lush green leading down to a lake. Couples were dotted about already and Benedict chose a spot slightly further back than the others.

He placed the basket down and began to set out the blanket, before placing some sandwiches and fruit on plates, rather haphazardly.

Looking up at her, he smiled sheepishly. "I confess," he told her, "I am not used to serving."

Emily smiled,and happily took the plate Benedict had made up for her. Unable to stand on ceremony much longer, she began to dig into the food. They chatted about the weather, the other couples, his sibling's latest antics, in between bites of food.

As the meal continued, Benedict seemed to grow thoughtful, staring out at the lake.

"This was one of my father's favourite places. He and my mother used to walk around here in the evenings. I always thought…" He trailed off, a faint red tinge returning to his cheeks.

The midday sun beamed off the ripples of the water, but Emily could picture Lord and Lady Bridgerton walking arm in arm around the edges of the water in the setting sun. It made her chest hurt for some odd reason.

"What kind of man was your father?" She asked Benedict.

He paused, took in a deep breath, glanced down at his hands, took in another breath, and stared at the water.

For a moment, Emily was unsure if he would even answer, but slowly he started.

"My father was a great man. He died when I was just 17. Anthony…he took on so much responsibility at such a young age. He should have had more time. Maybe if he had…

"My father was the type of man whom everyone respected. Not because he commanded it, but because he was so effortlessly agreeable with everyone. His servants, his tenants, his peers. I do not think I have ever heard someone speak ill of him."

Emily watched him, sensing the hesitation.

"He always seemed to know what he wanted, who he was. He was so comfortable with himself."

"And you are not?" Benedict looked at her sharply. Emily held her breath, patiently waiting. She could see his mind working behind his eyes.

"My brothers - Anthony always had his path set out for him. He always knew he would eventually be the Viscount. Colin always knew he would travel and he and his wife are now both great writers. Daphne is now a duchess. No one would have expected anything less.

"They all just seemed to know."

Emily laughed and once again, Benedict didn't know whether to look shocked or outraged.

"Have you ever spoken to your siblings about this?"

Benedict tilted his head to the side.

"Well…no. I suppose I have not." She laughed again.

"I did not think so. If you had you would know that everything you have just said is nonsense. No one in this life knows what they are or will be. Even the Viscount."

"Which one?"

"Both, I'd imagine. I assure you, everyone is making things up as they go. Some people are just better at pretending."

Benedict seemed to consider this, when a voice called out to them.

"Well is not this a cosy scene." Eloise sat herself down on their blanket, helping herself to one of the sandwiches.

Emily realised how closely she had been leaning towards Benedict, and pulled herself back, shuffling a few spaces away from him.

"Eloise. Should you not be having lunch with your companion?"

Eloise just laughed. "Ah yes, the invariable Lord Perciville Elderby. Did you know his prized steed almost won at Newmarket last year? Did you not ask? Funny, neither did I."

Emily laughed. "Men and their horses. Lord Fife almost bored me to tears telling me about his the other day. It is clearly compensation for something."

Benedict choked on the sandwich he had just popped in his mouth as Emily smiled slyly at him.

"Compensation? I do not-"

"Never you mind, Eloise", her brother told her sharply.

"If Miss Hawthorne made the comment, surely it is not something so bad?" She asked, indignant.

"Clearly they do things differently in the Americas."

"Different does not signify bad."

"I did not say so. But I shall not be the one to explain."

Emily watched the back and forth with great amusement, feeling both the loss and the comfort of the sibling's bond.

"Am I to assume you will not explain your comment?" She asked Emily suddenly. Emily, who had just poured herself a glass of water, merely shrugged and smiled, turning towards the lake. She did not fully trust she was in a fit state to meet Benedict's eye, as the siblings continued to squable in the background. She smiled, as the warm sun beamed down on her, and closed her eyes.