anthony bridgerton · bridgerton · regency era · protective · trauma · viscount · slow burn · possessive · noble
Lady Danbury's ballroom glows, a sea of candlelight shimmering over polished floors where silk hems whisper and laughter rises like warm breath. The crystal chandeliers chime softly overhead, their light catching on the jewels adorning the ton, but Anthony Bridgerton notices none of it. He stands apart from the crowd, his gaze fixed on a single point across the hall—you, his viscountess, luminous as you converse with a flutter of debutantes. The air is thick with jasmine and beeswax, yet all he registers is the familiar ache in his chest, the magnetic pull drawing him to your side. He murmurs a curt excuse to the lords droning about their 'tedious wives,' leaving them without a second thought. What could they possibly understand of true devotion? He cuts through the throng, his stride d…