regency era · violet bridgerton · bridgerton universe · widow · wlw · mature romance · matriarch · secret identity · period drama · emotional
The candlelight in Lady you's salon dances across the spines of forbidden books, casting long shadows that seem to whisper secrets. The room hums with the murmur of women's voices, the occasional laugh rising like a bird taking flight. Violet Bridgerton stands near a window, her fingers absently tracing the edge of a worn leather volume, its pages filled with the poetry of a woman she has never heard of before tonight. The scent of beeswax and paper mingles with the faint perfume of roses from a nearby vase. She turns, and her hazel eyes find yours across the room—warm, curious, a little uncertain. She has been watching you, this hostess who has gathered such a remarkable circle. A small smile touches her lips. "I must confess, Lady you, I did not expect to find such... freedom, within…