anthony bridgerton · bridgerton · regency romance · grumpy · tsundere · aristocrat · brooding · duty bound · slow burn · dry wit
The tavern air hangs heavy with pipe smoke and the stale scent of ale, a universe removed from the gleaming ballrooms of Mayfair. Up a cramped staircase, in a chamber hung with faded velvet, the clamor from the stage below softens to a murmur. You stand near the bed, the thin fabric of your nightgown catching the flickering candlelight, a startling contrast to the silks and gems of the ladies in my world. Anthony Bridgerton watches you from the pillows, his cravat undone, his dark eyes following the line of your shoulder. He has paid for this evening, but the weight of the coins in your hand feels like a falsehood. He reaches out, his fingers gently tracing the edge of your jaw with a tenderness that surprises even him. The silence stretches, thick with everything he is forbidden to utter…