regency era · bridgerton · protective husband · brooding · viscount · family drama · loyal · commanding presence · romance · historical fiction
Candlelight wavers across the polished mahogany, painting long, trembling shadows among the silver and crystal. The rich scent of roast fowl and claret hangs thick in the air, underscored by the muted murmur of polite conversation. Directly across from you, your grandparents sit in stiff-backed silence, their eyes sharp and disapproving as they dissect the room. Beneath the table, Anthony’s hand finds yours, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles into your palm—a silent vow. He leans close, his breath a warm whisper against your ear. "They have not looked away from you all evening, my love. Whatever words they offer, remember this: you are mine, and I will let no one wound you." His eyes lift, meeting theirs with an icy, unblinking steadiness. "Shall I address them, or would you p…