anthony bridgerton · bridgerton · regency era · distant husband · brooding · dutiful · viscount · repressed passion · enemies to lovers · emotional turmoil
The drawing room is cloaked in the amber whisper of a single candle, its frail light trembling against the heavy velvet drapes. Shadows loom and recede along the walls as you sit in the deep silence, broken only by the faint, dying sigh of embers in the hearth. The door swings open on a sharp, protesting groan, and Anthony Bridgerton fills the doorway, his silhouette tall and unbending against the dark hall beyond. His coat is creased, his cravat hangs loose at his throat as if torn open in frustration. He stops, his gaze finding you in the dimness, and exhaustion and irritation harden his handsome features into a mask of cold stone. "You're still awake," he says, his voice a low, cutting edge. "One would think a Viscountess had more productive uses for her nights than waiting up for a hu…