Bridgerton Books The Duke And I Mga Nobela at Kwento

She continues to work, looking sad, but in her head, she is planning her coronation. “My Duchess,” Duke calls. Ada pretends not to hear her. She hoped Emma would answer and embarrass herself. “My Duchess,” Duke calls again but this time he is walking to her. “Yes, Your Grace,” Ada answers looking at him. “Please join me in the office,” Duke says before turning away. “Little Duchess.” Duke leans into Emma and gives her a kiss. “See you soon, My Duke,” Emma says. Ada clocks several Omegas rolling their eyes. “Duke,” Bär calls. “Where are you going?”

Yet he is the one who has saved me. I shake off that thought as the duke turns back and assists a woman from the car she has hair that appears at once both dark and red, depending on how the sun plays over it. The former Miss Minerva Dillinger, now the Duchess. Her smile is bright as she gives Ben a hug. I am taken aback by the sharp stab of jealousy that pierces my chest. The woman is married to a dashing duke. She isn’t going to seek a dalliance with my husband, although her easy manner tells me that she would be as comfortable greeting a prince or a king. But then according to the gossip sheets, Minerva’s dowry had equaled the treasury of some small countries. I assume when one is graced

Excitement bubbled through me as I walked back into my room, fell onto the bed, and buried my head in the book. I was still on the first chapter when the door opened, and Duke entered with a smug grin on his handsome face. My breath hitched, and I swallowed hard. Damn it! Why did he have to be so gorgeous? “Enjoying your book?” he asked, his voice dripping with amusement. I nodded, my eyes never leaving his. “Yes, it's interesting.”

Their budding connection now seemed fragile, suspended in the uncertain space between duty and desire. With each passing step, Ava's thoughts wandered to the man she was meant to marry—the Duke of Cambridge. Whispers of his reputation seeped into her consciousness, casting a foreboding shadow over her heart. Rumors swirled about his cruel nature, his dark past, and a chilling tale of his involvement in his wife's demise. The stories painted the Duke as a figure shrouded in darkness, an enigma lurking within the grand halls of his ancestral estate. Tales of his icy demeanor and his propensity for manipulation echoed through the grapevine, leaving a trail of fear and unease in their wake.

"Didn't you think I was watching, Gracie? Oh, I saw everything. Saw the way you offered your sweet body to him. He might not have been man enough to take you, but I certainly am. You belong to me. Born from my seed. Duke has no right to take this honour from me" He lifted one of his hands from my head to grab that damned book again and propped it up at the side of me. "Look at this, isn't this what you wanted?" he pointed out. I couldn't help but look at the picture of the couple that was in a position not much different from the one we were in now. "Wasn't this what you were panting over when I walked in? Wasnt your hand stroking over those firm tits of yours as your eyes drank the picture

He stepped into the room, closing the door quietly behind him. “Victoria,” his voice was soft, tinged with something she couldn’t quite place. “You’re still here.” Her heart stuttered in her chest, a mix of confusion and anger washing over her. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, her voice sharp, betraying none of the emotions swirling inside her. “You were the one who left me.” The Duke didn’t flinch. He stepped further into the room, his eyes never leaving hers. “I couldn’t stay away,” he said simply, his words heavy with meaning. “Not after everything that happened. Not after seeing the way Lord Thomas treated you.”

"Oh My! Young Miss, look at this! They were drawing the illustration of the author! He is so handsome!" Her servant pointed a picture in the last pages of the books. A man with dark chocolate hair and a pair of beautiful eyes which have the same colour with his short hair. He looks like a small porcelain doll with warm smile. Just as Mary say, he is indeed a good-looking man. Gillian Bridgerton was a name which written under his picture. "Young Miss, he is living in Capital! A young man who wrote so many romantic stories must be knowing about how to treat woman! I like him already!"

It was the Christ the King celebration, and he was to chair the fair trade and the commissioning of the grotto that followed the procession, until Fabian appeared with news he had assumed he had dealt with temporarily. “What still holds her death? Why does she still roam the manor?” He stopped in front of Fabian to ask, even when he had been told the reason a thousand times. Fabian just stood in the darkness of the room, staring back at Edric and wishing he could control himself. “I am so close to being the next duke, so close to sitting on that seat of power and dining with the king,” he said aloud as he resumed pacing the room again, not caring if anyone overheard him.

I am at the end of the second chapter when the door opens, and Clarissa sweeps out of the room as if she owns the castle. Just the Duke's dick. I don't know why she upsets me. The Duke was a different man from my men, but they all made mistakes in their choices of companionship. Except me, I hope! "Page, are you there?" The Duke calls out from the bedroom. "Yes, my lord," I reply while standing with the book in my hand. I enter the room, and the

“And you already decided you’re coming home with us, so there’s no point wasting energy pretending otherwise.” Juliette’s jaw dropped. She half-laughed, half-choked. “Wow. At least let a woman have some pride.” Duke moved like a fucking viper one second surveying the room, the next his hand was in her hair, threading through those thick dark strands and tilting her head back just the way I’d fantasized about earlier. Then he angled her toward me and dipped low, whispering in her ear, “Who needs pride when you could be coming in five minutes?”