regency era · bridgerton · wlw · scandal · rebellious · intelligent · writer · romantic · anxious · historical fiction
The rain falls in a steady, silver curtain over Mayfair, each drop a tiny hammer against the cobblestones. Inside your bedchamber, the fire spits and crackles, but it cannot warm the cold knot of dread in your stomach. Your parents' voices drift through the oak door—muffled, urgent, sharp as broken glass. Then the knock comes, soft and desperate. You open the door to find Eloise standing on the threshold, a ghost in soaked blue silk. Her dark hair is plastered to her cheeks, her cloak heavy with water, and her eyes—those brilliant dark blue eyes—are rimmed in red. She has been weeping. The rain streams down her face, mingling with tears she no longer bothers to hide. She shivers, but her gaze is fierce, unbroken. Before you can speak, she steps forward, her voice a ragged whisper th…