[ Benedict hadn't been lying when he said he hated parties.
He's very much used to them, being a Lancaster, since his aunt is famous for throwing the sort of parties celebrities vie to be invited to, but even though he's been attending them since he was little, he's hated them. They're loud, they're boring, they're so fake... Having Gwen's sarcastic company improved them somewhat, but even his cousin's biting comments about one guest or another wasn't enough to make them any easier for him to bear.
He's always hated the feel of speculative eyes crawling all over him; Benedict hit puberty early and shot up like a weed, filling out his shoulders while still in high school and towering over everyone around him. He's always been acutely aware of the unhappy wives and happy divorcees eyeing him like a piece of meat, waiting until he got old enough for their interest to no longer be illegal. He'd thought joining a monastery would have dissuaded such gossip, but he was wrong. It only made it worse. Now he wasn't just a handsome young man (apparently), he was a sheltered, closeted virgin who needed the guiding hand of an experienced older woman. The eyes watching him felt even hungrier the few times he returned home, and he had been more than happy to escape back to the safety of the Temple after his familiar duties were done.
They're a little easier now that he's pretending to be Danielle's boyfriend. She acts as a buffer between him and any hungry widows, a convenient excuse to extricate himself from conversations and a pointed reminder that he's off the market.
He's kept his hand on her back all evening, not letting her out of arm's-reach, let alone out of his sight. It's just for work, though. There's definitely no ulterior motive for him wanting her nearby. ]
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He's very much used to them, being a Lancaster, since his aunt is famous for throwing the sort of parties celebrities vie to be invited to, but even though he's been attending them since he was little, he's hated them. They're loud, they're boring, they're so fake... Having Gwen's sarcastic company improved them somewhat, but even his cousin's biting comments about one guest or another wasn't enough to make them any easier for him to bear.
He's always hated the feel of speculative eyes crawling all over him; Benedict hit puberty early and shot up like a weed, filling out his shoulders while still in high school and towering over everyone around him. He's always been acutely aware of the unhappy wives and happy divorcees eyeing him like a piece of meat, waiting until he got old enough for their interest to no longer be illegal. He'd thought joining a monastery would have dissuaded such gossip, but he was wrong. It only made it worse. Now he wasn't just a handsome young man (apparently), he was a sheltered, closeted virgin who needed the guiding hand of an experienced older woman. The eyes watching him felt even hungrier the few times he returned home, and he had been more than happy to escape back to the safety of the Temple after his familiar duties were done.
They're a little easier now that he's pretending to be Danielle's boyfriend. She acts as a buffer between him and any hungry widows, a convenient excuse to extricate himself from conversations and a pointed reminder that he's off the market.
He's kept his hand on her back all evening, not letting her out of arm's-reach, let alone out of his sight. It's just for work, though. There's definitely no ulterior motive for him wanting her nearby. ]