For the first time in years, Lady Danbury didn't host the season's first party, but instead ceded her place to Mrs. Bridgerton, who decided to take a different approach to the usual high society events in London. Mystery, fashion, history, and plenty of glitter. A masked ball. Bridgerton House was decorated from top to bottom, with chandeliers full of candles, carpets in the entrance hall, and decorations hanging on the walls. Plenty of food and drink for the guests, all in an exquisite shade of blue.

Benedict arrived two hours late to the party after a quick visit to the bawdy house he often tended. Violet, his mother, scolded him and quietly implored him to speak to the debutantes, hoping her hopes for her son to find a partner weren't in vain. But he grew bored instantly with the masked young women who did nothing but flatter him insincerely. What nonsense. He shouldn't be here. That was Anthony's business. But of course, he had to be in India with his wife, and now it was Benedict's turn to play the viscount.

Swaying to the music, he went out to wander through his own ballroom, in his own house, trying to find something to capture his blue eyes. Despite the exquisite nature of the dance, not even the wait to unmask everyone at midnight seemed to hold his interest. All familiar faces, few friends. He was setting down his small, now-empty glass of port when an intriguing image caught his eye.

Or rather, someone.