Luke Thompson is politely but purposefully avoiding my questions. He initially answered them quite candidly—from his hands-off approach to Bridgerton’s third season (“I don’t think actors have good ideas, generally”) to his character Benedict’s close bond with his sister, Claudia Jessie’s Eloise (“There is a sort of weird chemistry. Obviously not incest”). At one point, Thompson even stops himself to say, “Sorry, I’m chatting away now.”

But when conversation turns to the future—whether Benedict Bridgerton, the bohemian second son who has evaded eligible debutantes for the last three seasons, will lead the show’s next love story—his answers grow short and vague. Thompson’s eyes glance towards the PR reps who have brought him to Vanity Fair’s office on a quiet Friday morning in the days before the debut of Bridgerton season three, part two. There is an unspoken understanding for why we’re here, but Thompson makes sure not to say that quiet part out loud.

The 35-year-old actor, who made his film debut in Christopher Nolan’s Dunkirk and recently earned an Olivier Award nomination for his performance in A Little Life, calls Benedict “an enigma.” Thompson would be “over the moon” to lead his own season of the series—whenever that may be, he hastens to add—and delve into Benedict’s unknown side. “You haven’t watched him, I don’t know, lose his shit or get angry or get really upset or something,” he tells Vanity Fair. “And you think, Well, it’d be really interesting to see what does crack that.”

Bridgerton’s third season comes close to breaking down the character’s barriers. After a season-long fling with the widowed Lady Tilley Arnold (Hannah New), Benedict embraces a three-way dynamic with Tilley and her “dear friend Paul” (Lucas Aurelio). “I suppose I have love to give in abundance,” Benedict tells them. “Love for a good party, especially a party of three.” Benedict becomes so enthralled with the throuple that he declines an offer from Tilley to make their prior dalliance more serious. “You’ve opened my world,” he tells her, “and I’m not ready to close it again just now.”

He probably won’t have to. There are signs in the season finale—including the mention of a coming masquerade ball where, in the books, Benedict meets his one true love, Sophie–that have made it quite obvious to some that Thompson’s time in the spotlight has arrived. Below, the actor digs into the second half of Bridgerton season three—and (some) of what’s next.

Vanity Fair: What was your reaction to finding out that Benedict’s story, An Offer from a Gentlemen, which is the third novel in Julia Quinn’s series, was being delayed for at least a season?

Luke Thompson: The Colin and Penelope story had been brewing for a while, so they needed to resolve it. But also as long as you get interesting stuff to do and you’re part of an ensemble of people that are constantly working on this world together, that’s very satisfying. I mean, the slow build is a good build to do as well. Working on Benedict and filling in this portrait that we’ve all been slowly building for a few years is fun.

The pleasure of working on these parts for a long time is that you come up with something that’s quite relaxed. He’s sort of nothing. He’s not completely immune [to the world around him], but you haven’t watched him, I don’t know, lose his shit or get angry or get really upset or something. And you think, “Well, it’d be really interesting to see what does crack that.” I guess that’s true in life, isn’t it? You meet people and think, “Oh wow, I wonder what really gets you upset, because you seem very carefree.”

You don’t have public social media accounts. How much of a sense do you have of the show’s intense fandom?

I get little glimpses. I remember when the show first came out during the pandemic, I had friends show me on their accounts. But my biggest sense of it is when I meet people in the street, and those exchanges are always really nice. The breadth of people who come up to you really is amazing because as an actor, particularly if you’re doing mostly theater, you spend a lot of time performing to the 0.10 percent of the population that go to the theater all the time. Whereas a show with as broad an appeal as Bridgerton—to have people of all walks of life come up to you, it’s lovely.

Is there one fan reaction that was most memorable?

You know what, yesterday I got given these little dolls, which are quite sweet. There’s a little doll of Eloise, a little doll of Colin. They’re quite cute.

Someone made them?

Yeah, the gifts are really fun. People are always just very warm. It’s funny, sometimes they confuse the brothers. I had a fan come up and say, “You’re in Bridgerton, right?” Then she found on her phone a picture of Johnny [Bailey]. She’s like, “You’re this guy.” I was like, “Well, no.” To me that’s so obvious, but she just couldn’t see it. Similarly, the other day I was just outside the Tube in London and someone came up, she must’ve been in her fifties or sixties, and said, “Oh yes, you’re Luke? My name’s Penelope—just joking.” But clearly she thought I was Luke Newton.

At what point did you find out that Benedict’s storyline was going to culminate in this three-way relationship with Lady Tilley and Paul?

It was always drifting in the background a bit in [season] one, maybe less in [season] two, but hinted at and ambiguous. You did think, “Oh, I wonder what that was with Henry Granville?” But I find out when the scripts are sent through.

It’s just a really nice development of the character. The way Benedict seems to explore his sexuality is very angst-free, as in there just seems to be a genuine curiosity. And that’s quite refreshing to see portrayed, because I think a lot of discussions around sexuality—particularly male sexuality—can end up feeling quite rigid. It’s all quite labeled and becomes about a real sense of identity and where you stand and where you sit. So to have a character explore that in a very curious way, that’s really exciting to show onscreen.

In that sort of magic Bridgerton way, it was also strangely more true of the time. Obviously at the time, there’s the repression of homosexuality, all of that is absolutely true. But I also do think it’s interesting that the identity is a new concept, that actually at the time sex was sex a little more, maybe. It’s both modern and also hints at something that was of that time, which I think is quite interesting.

It feels good to see Benedict make a choice, period. Because it often feels like he’s just letting things happen to him.

I’m sure people will make all sorts of things of it. Some people will be disappointed, some people will be confused, some people will be worried, some people will really, really love it. That’s why you do the job, is for that multiplicity of reactions. They were just really exciting scenes to play. Because he is someone who is very good at going along with things. So to jump into something like that, it then starts to really tap into the fact that he’s so driven by that need to be free and explore. It’s really interesting where that takes him finally, with the last scene with Tilley.

It’s funny. The season is really all about mirrors, [and] there’s a real mirroring thing going on. I do think there’s something about Tilley where she does confront Benedict with some reflection of him and says, “Yeah, freedom is great, but at some point it’s time to grow up there, in terms of making some kind of choice.” As you say, we don’t often see him make those choices.

What was it like to film intimate scenes with two partners? I assume that was your first time doing so.

Is it my first time? [He pauses to think.] I think so, yeah, it was my first time. I mean, in the strangest way, it was no different. We’ve really come leaps and bounds when it comes to those [sex] scenes being treated more professionally and creatively, actually. Because I think the professional side enables you to be much more creative and think very carefully about how they’re not just sex scenes, but they actually, carefully map out—I mean, sex is such a condensed version of expressing something. Words are words are words, but how people are in sex speaks volumes about who they are or what the relationship is. So doing a scene with three, it opens up a whole nother thing.

Between this and Challengers, it feels like something of a moment for the throuple onscreen. Were there any other shows or films that you saw as touchstones in terms of a relationship involving three people?

Challengers I’ve seen recently, and I think that was really interesting. I’m trying to think if I’ve seen any other ones. The only one I can remember—is it Design For Living? It’s a [Noel] Coward play. I mean, I saw that a long, long time ago. You’re saying they’re having a moment, but actually, I guess what I’m saying is that they’ve always been there.

People have always been curious about how monogamy can feel like a real cage in some ways, and how to experiment with that and push the boundaries. I remember doing a play a long time ago called Bloody Poetry, which is all about Shelley and Byron, the romantic poets. There’s a real exploration of Mary Shelley, then Byron and his mistress, Clare Claremont. All of that was round about that time, Bridgerton’s regency era. So it’s always been part of [art], and it’s so nice because it’s so open-ended. The whole idea of experimenting, pushing beyond monogamy—there’s a real human thing of saying, “Let’s try and break free of this” and then you realize that actually, although you do break free of something—

You kind of enter something else?

Yeah. I guess what I find moving is that strangely, pure freedom does not exist. There are other limitations and complications that will come up because we’re humans and we’re complicated and we’re scared.

That really speaks to where Benedict is at the end of the season. After turning down Tilley, he admits on the swings to Eloise that he’s open to discovering that he knows nothing.

What’s lovely about Bridgerton is it is about romantic relationships as a way of growing up and growing into yourself and becoming. It’s about maturity. I feel like when you’re younger you can think, “Oh, I just want to explore and explore and explore and never be tied down and never have to do any of that.”

The analogy I always use is walking into a bookshop and thinking, “I want to read all the books.” No. There will be a list of books that you’ll read in your life that’s probably like 0.000001% of all the books that have been written, and there’s nothing you can do about it. You have to pick a book and read it—it’s finite. And actually by choosing the books you read, you’re building yourself, saying, “This is what I like and this is what I want.” Benedict really has the envelope pushed at the end by Tilley saying, “There is virtue and pleasure and meaning in growing up, and it’s not just all about freedom.”

It became clear to me during the finale, particularly the allusion to the masquerade ball, that Benedict will soon be choosing a book, so to speak.

Hey, they’ve changed the books before.

That’s true. How much of the upcoming season have you been made privy to in terms of seeing scripts or speaking with the showrunner?

No, no, no. I am still bathing in season three.

Can you at least say if you know who the next lead is?

No.

In the books, Benedict falls in love with a woman named Sophie, but do you see his sexual fluidity continuing to be part of his story?

Yeah, I think that’s really up to the writers. I think it’s an important facet of his character that certainly shouldn’t be ignored, but beyond that, I mean, we’ll see what the writers do. Trust that the writers will find the way.

Would you rather not be involved in that process?

No, I don’t think actors have good ideas, generally. I really don’t. [He smiles.] One idea in a hundred from an actor is a good idea. Because I think you’re one step in and one step out. If you are having ideas, that means you’re spectating yourself and not fully... I’m sure there are actors who are able to do that. But for me, one of the things that’s great about acting, that really appeals to me, is switching off that side of your brain and abdicating that sense of control and just seeing what comes out. So getting involved in that process, that’s beyond my pay grade.

Say you were given a script and there was something you totally disagreed with in it. How do you rationalize it?

The job of an actor is to make something work. So even if your first instinct is, “Whoa, that doesn’t make sense,” well, actually people don’t make sense. A lot of people are extremely contradictory.

There are limits. If there was something that was wildly out of whack—but then that’s just bad writing. Most of the time actually, it’s anxiety about these imaginative leaps you might have to make. The job is to make those imaginative leaps and to tie all this writing together to make a coherent character. So rather than say, “Oh, but my character wouldn’t do that,” you think, “Well, we don’t know what’s right.” In life, we make all sorts of strange and contradictory decisions. So who are we to know?

When Benedict is asked about his creative pursuits by Paul, he doesn’t mention his art. Why do you feel he’s shielding that part of himself?

It came about as a way for him to escape his family, find something that’s just his. So when he found that little corridor out and there’s a door at the end and he opens the door and it’s Anthony, he’s made it all happen, he thinks, “Oh God.” He almost feels embarrassed about it. Now, whether [his pursuit of art] resurfaces, I don’t know. It’s just interesting in terms of what it says about that journey to express yourself outside of your family, the thing that you’ve spent probably quite a few years just being submerged in. It’s really quite poignant for him to have thought that he was getting out and then actually it brings him right back down to the bloody Bridgertons.

You’ve previously compared Benedict to another second son—Prince Harry. Will Benedict break off from his family in a similar way?

I don’t really have anything to say about the Prince Harry thing, but I know that Benedict loves his family, and that’s what makes it complicated—that journey outwards.

I look at the scenes with him and Eloise and think, in order to go and meet someone else, he’s going to have to slightly let go of that thing with Eloise. Do you know what I mean? You’re not never going to fully let go of your family, but they do take up so much emotional space and there’s that comfort. You do have to renounce a little bit of that in order to go somewhere else.

It happens in a massive way to Eloise in the course of season three, as she feels that losing a brother and they’re friends. But that is how it has to be, and it’s really hard. He says that really lovely thing to Eloise: “Love isn’t finite.” Weirdly though, what the show seems to be exploring with Benedict is that love is finite, actually. Our bandwidth is finite, and you have to make space and be ready for something else to happen.

This interview has been edited and condensed.