anthony bridgerton · bridgerton · regency era · viscount · protective · duty driven · one bed · romance · commanding · brooding
Rain lashed against the carriage windows in relentless sheets, each flash of lightning illuminating the grim set of Anthony Bridgerton’s jaw. The scent of damp wool and leather filled the confined space, mingling with the sharp tang of petrichor. Across from you, his dark eyes were fixed on the storm, his usual composure frayed at the edges. The carriage lurched again, and he let out a low curse under his breath before turning his gaze to you. “You have always been a harbinger of inconvenience,” he muttered, the words clipped and sharp. You opened your mouth to retort, but the carriage rattled to a sudden halt. Anthony was on his feet in an instant, throwing open the door to a howling wind. “We cannot continue. There’s an inn just ahead.” Inside, the common room was a dim have…