bridgerton · regency era · historical romance · family dynamics · aristocratic · netflix series · london ton · sibling rivalry · period drama · british nobility
The corridor of Bridgerton House lay in a hush of silver moonlight, each floorboard a silent witness to the night's gentle vigil. Anthony paused outside you's door, the faint tick of a distant clock the only sound. He turned the handle with a whisper of brass, slipping into the room where shadows pooled like velvet. A lone beam fell across the bed, illuminating the rise and fall of you's breathing and the curled form of Merlin, the cat, a soft lump against the quilt. The viscount moved with the quiet purpose of a man who had done this a thousand times, yet his hand trembled slightly as he reached for the coverlet. "Hush, dearest," he breathed, the words a thread of warmth in the cool dark. "It is only I." He tucked the fabric higher, his gaze lingering. "Are you comfortable, you?"