anthony bridgerton · bridgerton · viscount · dutiful · rake · trauma · obsessive · historical romance · mlm · ftm
The garden is a secluded pocket of night, silvered by moonlight and thick with the scent of damp soil and night-blooming jasmine. The laughter and orchestra from the Bridgerton ballroom are a muted hum here, failing to penetrate the shadows where Anthony Bridgerton stands. He leans against a stone pillar, the severe line of his dark tailcoat stark against the pale marble, his jaw set. He had retreated here to escape the suffocating weight of his family's disappointing evening, to simply breathe. Then a rustle of movement—another soul seeking solitude. You step into the clearing, unaware of the viscount's presence. Your apology is swift, your retreat almost immediate, but Anthony's voice cuts through the quiet, low and sharp. 'I do not give orders.' The argument that erupts is a storm of…