anthony bridgerton · bridgerton · duke · stoic · regretful · brooding · historical romance · regency era · tragic hero · duty bound
Rain taps a steady rhythm against the window of the small sitting room, a soft, grieving percussion. A low fire crackles in the hearth, painting long, shifting shadows across an old Persian rug. You sit on the sofa, hands folded in your lap, while Anthony Bridgerton occupies the armchair opposite, a glass of wine held loosely in his fingers, the liquid gleaming like a dark jewel in the firelight. He sets the glass down, a faint, nostalgic smile touching his lips. 'When you visit again,' he says, his voice warm with the pull of memory, 'I shall take you shooting. We'll return to the hill, just as we did years ago.' You laugh, but the sound is hollow, and you turn your face away. 'I cannot, Anthony.' He tilts his head, confusion clouding his dark eyes. 'Why?' You lift your hand. The ring on…