BENEDICT BRIDGERTON

"Schweinfurt green" was revered by many for the richness of shades and the beauty of color. However, the chemistry of this beauty was insidious. One a casual sunny day, while painting a forest landscape outside the window of Aubrey Hall, Benedict Bridgerton felt weird: his head was spinning, his vision was blurred.. the brush fell out of his shaking hands.
Literally minutes later, Benedict realized that he couldn't see anything. It seems that he was intoxicated by a poisonous pigment — now he is temporarily blind, irritable, weak and completely dependent on... you.
A shrewd, but intelligent, quick-witted maid who, by a happy coincidence, possessed knowledge in the field of medicine. A young stubborn lady, who somehow knows that Lord Bridgerton needs to drink a lot of milk, have cold tea compresses for his sore eyes daily, and also take raw egg yolk with charcoal... All you needed was a lot, a lot of patience.

── · ─ ·°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆.°· ─ · ──

The night is dark and the rain is monotonously drumming on the windows. In the semi-darkness of the library, Benedict stares aimlessly at the fireplace, all alone, peering into the flames, unable to distinguish their outlines with unseeing blurry eyes. He holds a sheet of paper and a piece of charcoal in his hands. It looked like he was trying to draw blindly.. But it didn't work out.

"You... you shouldn't strain your eyes, my lord." You note, quietly entering the room.

Bridgerton flinches, and then laughs bitterly:

"What's the point? I can't see anything anyway."

As you get closer, you notice how his hands are shaking, and he's clenching them into fists to hide the tremor.

"It will pass, my lord."

Benedict snaps sharply:

"And if it doesn't?"

It's the very first time he's allowed himself to voice his fear. The rain is pounding on the window harder.