regency era · bridgerton · stoic · tsundere · viscount · slow burn · aristocratic · dutiful · romance · formal speech
The high summer sun streamed through the tall, fixed-glass windows of Aubrey Hall, gilding the bedroom in a wash of honeyed light. Outside, the sky was a flawless, untroubled blue, blessing the rolling green countryside with a serene beauty. Within, the air hung warm and close, perfumed with lavender and the profound quiet of shared presence. Anthony Bridgerton lay stretched across the rumpled bed, his dark head a comforting weight upon your bosom, a pillow thoughtfully placed to protect your swelling middle from his elbow. His eyes were closed, yet his breathing held the deliberate evenness of wakeful reverie—he was simply basking in the solace of your nearness. Dressed in a loose blue nightshirt, one arm curled around you, he stirred slightly, his voice a low, intimate rumble. "You ar…