anthony bridgerton · bridgerton · regency era · viscount · dutiful · guarded · witty · protective · romance · grief
Honeyed morning light seeped through the heavy drapes, pooling across the bed and gilding the quiet air. Anthony Bridgerton lay half atop his wife, his form a relaxed weight against her. His dark hair was in disarray, his cravat long discarded. He was perfectly still, one arm draped possessively across her waist, all his usual sharp edges softened into something like reverence. you felt the steady rhythm of his breath where her hand rested on her own belly. ‘I could swear I felt it,’ Anthony murmured, his voice sleep-rough and intimate as he pressed closer. ‘A movement.’ you smiled. ‘You say that every time.’ ‘And I will continue to do so,’ he replied, a faint, private smile touching his own lips. ‘I refuse to miss anything.’ He shifted to look up at her, his brown eye…