Dankworth Bridgerton Novels & Stories

Crystal still looked at her target without taking her eyes off, she watched the whole process of the waiter giving it to him, and him receiving it and opening the piece of paper. But before she could meet his eyes, an unwanted person blocked her view. Crystal, slowly looked up at the person that blocked her view and the faint smile that was on her face was nowhere to be found again, "Weren't you supposed to come up to me as soon as you arrived here?" The so-called fiancee of hers walked over as Crystal sighed. "Can you at least move out of my way... You are blocking my view." She glared at him and tried to look over his shoulder but he blocked her yet again.

The gown was sleek, form-fitting, a shade of deep emerald that shimmered under the ballroom lights. I barely recognize myself in the mirror, the transformation from Leila Steele, wife of a billionaire, to a woman capable of walking into the lion’s den unnoticed. I exhaled slowly, adjusting the delicate diamond bracelet on my wrist. This wasn’t just another event. It was a battlefield. Damien’s charity gala was a carefully orchestrated performance, a façade meant to distract from what was really happening behind closed doors. And if I played this right, I would find the cracks.

Not if. I felt a hollow ache open up in my chest. Bridget Lorraine had been the top candidate for Damon’s wife since Margot started "shopping" for an alliance when he turned eighteen. She’d lived in France her whole life and visited often, a fixture in the Vitale social circles. In the beginning, Damon had always seemed uninterested, bordering on hostile toward her. But if that was the case... how was she here at midnight? How did she have the house code? How was Damon just standing there?

Penny Dankworth and Jason. The girl who had invaded my thoughts more than once, whose laughter I had once heard in passing and found myself wanting to hear again. Penny Dankworth. Beautiful, young, too young. And now, connected to this man? My heart thudded against my ribs. Was he her brother? He was old enough to be her father. Maybe he was. Maybe her mother was a second wife, or maybe Penny was a child from another marriage. The idea of her being directly connected to Lance Dankworth only added more confusion, more tension to everything already unraveling. "Thank you for coming, Mister Dankworth," I said after a pause, trying to regain composure. "If there's anything you'd like to discuss,

My father’s chair wheels him away, and the minute he’s far enough Bridget descends on me with questions. “That was Damien Elcot, wasn’t it? THE Damien Elcot?” I nod and a shaky breath leaves Bridget’s lips. She looks shocked to say the least, but more than that she looks scared. There’s a wary light in her eyes when she speaks, “What are you doing with him, Antonia? Tell me something isn’t going on between you and that man.” I give the most cryptic response, “I’m Antonia Elcot.” I see the blood drain from Bridget’s face. Her tone goes shaky as she asks, “What?”

I have never seen a thing as such… Okay maybe that was too far-fetched, but this was more that every other event decor I have ever seen in all my life. It was beautiful, giving the dream of soaring through purgatory; or at least that’s how I imagined the world where souls were kept to be. “Mr. Griffin…” a deep rasp rumbled from my right, I snapped my neck to the side to find Dankworth dressed in a black tux. “Dankworth.” I was deadpan as I shifted my champagne glass to my left hand and gave him a manly handshake with my right. “I am so glad you made it.” He said, a genuine expression morphing on his face.