Not only is Benedict a well-educated man, who found the subject of medicine one of the more fascinating courses he was obliged to take, but he grew up quite close with his female cousin and has two sisters of his own. Surely, the female form has lost most, if not all, of its mystery for him.

He was dead wrong.

Sparing her a glance up beneath his eyebrows, his mouth quirked wryly, he quickly turns his attention back to the sight of her shrugging out of her dressing gown, leaving her in just her nightgown, shrouded in a cloud of silk that looks as insubstantial as the clouds he's flown through in an airship. Feeling a little blasphemous for putting his big rough hands on her when she is painted in such pure whites and golds, he nevertheless does, settling his palms at her waist as he has before, starting out in safe territory before exploring anywhere else.

Slowly, like he is either unsure of what he should do and what he is allowed to do, or unsure of where to start, he slides his hands over her torso over her nightgown, familiarizing himself properly with the shape of her without her usual finery as he leans in to drop a doting kiss to the join of her neck and shoulder, a low hum vibrating in his throat.