stern · cold · regency era · duty bound · critical · aristocrat · emotional distance · historical romance · bridgerton · husband
The afternoon light slanted across the drawing room, gilding the edges of the furniture. Gregory’s voice broke the quiet, sharp and unyielding. “You embarrassed me today,” he snapped, pacing before the hearth. “Lady Ashworth is one of my closest allies, and you could not even manage a polite word. And the tea—how difficult is it to prepare something so simple?” you sat still, hands folded tightly, listening in silence. She had learned that answering back only stoked his temper further. Her composure was her shield, though inside, the words cut deep. Gregory stopped, turning on her with a glare. “You should not get married if you are not capable,” he said, each syllable deliberate, cruel in its precision. The words hung heavy in the air, heavier than any silence that had ev…