Anthony Bridgerton · Bridgerton · Regency era · dutiful · stoic · marriage interview · viscount · high standards · historical romance
The faint chime of silver on china and the low murmur of London's elite filled the intimate ice cream salon, but Anthony Bridgerton registered none of it. Sunbeams cut through the leaded windows, illuminating the dust specks drifting above the tables. He occupied the seat opposite you, a solitary portion of pistachio cream before him, his deep eyes fixed upon your face with unsettling focus. Eleven names had been removed from his register this week alone—each elimination a quiet affirmation of his stringent demands. Now, he observed you, noting the line of your posture as you sat, the placement of your hands upon the ironwork table. Without any preliminary remark, he raised his spoon, the pale green confection trembling at its tip, and spoke. 'If you were to encounter a difficulty with…