Novel & Cerita Dearest Gentle Reader Bridgerton

Watching her wake up has become one of my new favorite pastimes and I don’t want to miss it this morning, although she won’t wake up for another couple hours at least; she’s a night creature. I get up and walk back into the bedroom. Stopping at the foot of the bed, I laugh softly as I see the three of them tangled up in each other’s limbs. I then proceed to our library nook in another corner of our room, sit in my favorite chair, and pull out the romance novel I started to read last night. It is a good one. A story about an author who gets a movie deal and gets tangled up with the three male actors who audition to play characters in her book.

"I hate to say this but it means that the entire clan of the Bridgertons is going to protect you by all means, Ms. Clarkson." he retorted. "and it might not end well for both of us. So, if you want us to protect you from getting killed by those wolves, cooperate with us before it's gonna be too late." Mr. Bridgerton's statement even worried me the most. I did not completely understand everything he said but I don't want to die either just because I discovered their secrets.

she whispered. "Revised edition," Hector grunted, though his eyes were smiling. Deep within the heart of the manor, in the master suite, the world was much quieter. Garette sat on the edge of the bed, the golden glow of a bedside lamp illuminating the room. He was reading a book aloud to Dianthe, his voice a soothing cadence. She was propped up on silk pillows, her hand resting on her stomach, looking more peaceful than she had in the tumultuous months since Geneva.

Sir Walter Elliot, of Kellynch Hall, in Somersetshire, was a man who, for his own amusement, never took up any book but the Baronetage; there he found occupation for an idle hour, and consolation in a distressed one; there his faculties were roused into admiration and respect, by contemplating the limited remnant of the earliest patents; there any unwelcome sensations, arising from domestic affairs changed naturally into pity and contempt as he turned over the almost endless creations of the last century; and there, if every other leaf were powerless, he could read his own history with an interest which never failed. This was the page at which the favourite volume always opened:

… Emma's POV: I was so astonished by how gentle the man was that I almost forgot to breathe as I stood stunned where I was. His cool fingers brushed across my cheeks, and I caught the scent of cedar mixed with cold, woody notes of bergamot on him. I could feel the warmth emanating from his cold, hard exterior. It took me quite a while to snap out of my daze when I stared into the man's eyes. I finally found my voice to ask, "W-Why are you helping me?"

Intentionally. I pulled it open. Inside was a folded letter. Simple. Clean handwriting. Feminine. My breath slowed without permission. My fingers trembled slightly as I unfolded it. And the moment I saw the first line— My stomach dropped. My dearest Arianna, My vision blurred instantly. I blinked hard. Once. Twice. Trying to steady myself. Aiden didn’t speak. He didn’t interrupt. He just stood there beside me while I read. My mother’s handwriting was unmistakable.

All I needed was space. Sebastian Spenser. The heir of Spenser cooperation and legitimate face of the family business. He is taking me as his bride because he needed me to give him an heir. Because my grandfather thought it was good for business. I stared down at my wedding dress. It is a heavy Ralph Lauren custom made ball. It was made up of the finest Chinese silk with a floral of white lilies. It is gorgeous, fancy and expensive. It was chosen by my mother. I would have preferred a simple yet elegant one but mother insisted I get this particular one. Only the best for the Spenser and Hastings union.

“I couldn’t find its original strap, but this is old too.” I smiled as I put it on. “It looks perfect, baby. Thank you.” I cupped her face. “You remind me how precious time is, and I’m making every moment precious for us. I love you, Vanderford.” I lightly kissed her on her lips. I didn’t want to smudge her lipstick. “This is the most precious gift I’ve ever received.” “Not me?” She wrinkled her nose. “From a human. From God, it’s you, London Hester Marguerite Vanderford-Braddson-Cade.”

"The heat is getting to me." ​"Don't be long, darling," he said, his eyes tracking me like a predator. "The toast is in ten minutes." ​I didn't go for air. I walked straight toward Beatrice. As I approached, Elena stepped aside, a cruel smirk playing on her lips. ​"The bride looks like she’s seen a ghost," Beatrice said, her voice smooth and venomous.

Ava The morning sun streamed into the mansion with a deceptive softness, brushing the marble floors with streaks of gold. The air was still, carrying only faint traces of lavender and polished wood. But beneath the calm, there was tension an invisible current that hummed in the corridors and whispered in the corners of every room. Today, I sensed, would challenge not only my judgment and strategy but also my heart. Because in Adrian Vale’s world, ambition, loyalty, and desire were often entangled, and the boundaries between personal and professional alliances were dangerously thin.