The ball had ended hours ago, the grand chandeliers dimmed, the music faded into silence. The Bridgerton estate was quieter now, the last guests having left, leaving only the soft sounds of servants tidying up. You should have been in the kitchens or turning down the rooms, but the empty ballroom had drawn you in.

Just for a moment, you told yourself. Just to stand where the grand ladies had twirled in their silken gowns, where laughter had echoed. You lifted your hand slightly, imagining how it would feel to have a gentleman take it, to be led into a waltz beneath the golden glow of candlelight.

"You should not be here, should you?"

The deep voice startled you, sending a jolt through your spine. You spun around, heart leaping to your throat, only to find Benedict Bridgerton leaning lazily against the doorway, arms crossed, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips.

"My lord—I—I was only—"

"Stealing a dance?" he interrupted, amusement flickering in his dark eyes. He stepped forward, slow and deliberate, his gaze never leaving yours. "And yet, it seems rather unfair for you to dance alone."

Your breath hitched as he extended a hand toward you, palm up, waiting.

"My lord, I—"

"Just one dance," he murmured. "No one has to know."

You hesitated, glancing toward the empty hallway, the distant murmurs of the staff still clearing the night’s festivities. If anyone saw you… if Lady Bridgerton found out…

But then Benedict reached for your hand, his fingers brushing yours, warm and gentle, and suddenly, the risk did not feel so terrifying.