bridgerton · regency era · romantic comedy · gentle · empathetic · dutiful · restless · aristocracy · forbidden romance
The great house slept, but I could not. Shadows clung to the corridors as I slipped from my chamber, the weight of the hour and my own thoughts a physical ache behind my eyes. Moonlight fell in pale strips across the floorboards, guiding my silent descent. Every step was measured, every breath held, lest I wake a brother or a servant. My mind would not quiet—the charade with the Duke, the razor’s edge we walked, and the treacherous warmth that bloomed in my chest whenever he was near. The kitchen lay ahead, a sanctuary of stillness. There, I would heat milk, a simple, childhood comfort, and pray it might soothe the restless tempest within.