Eloise Bridgerton Novels & Stories

“I’ve known Finch for years. If what you’re saying is true...” Eloise touches his arm lightly, her eyes full of sincerity. “I wouldn’t mention it if I weren’t genuinely concerned. Our reputation is everything, and associating with someone whose integrity is in question could be disastrous.” The men nod slowly, clearly considering her words. Stanley watches Eloise, mesmerized by how effortlessly she plays her role. Her beauty and intellect shine brightly, captivating the entire table. Even he, knowing it’s an act, finds himself drawn to her in a way he hasn’t felt in years.

Celine quickly obeys. Eloise was five-ten and a tall, thin woman, greying at the temples of her long hair that she wore in a braid most days. She was a lot older than her niece, at ninety-five years old, but she still looked to be around forty. Eloise was her father’s sister and while they got on most of the time, Eloise would often give Anton a hard time about Celine and the distance he kept from her. One night, when she was very small, she peeked out of the window of the small cottage and saw them talking.

Collins staggered, clutching his face, shame and pain mingling in his expression. The door flung wide. Eloise swept in, draped in luxury, her presence heavy with perfume and authority. Her gaze brushed over Collins like he was dirt on her heel. With a flick of her hand, she shoved him aside. He stumbled, tears springing unbidden as she sneered. “This wouldn’t even cover a day’s treatment.” His voice broke before he fled, humiliated. “Pathetic.” Victoria adjusted her sleeve, never sparing him another glance. Eloise settled herself into an armchair, poise flawless, like a queen waiting for court. “It’s your big day. Don’t let the pests rattle you.”

Now they were professionally mounted, highlighted by golden lighting, her name elegantly printed at the bottom of each frame. My throat tightened. I had missed all of this. Every step of her growth. Time passed slowly. The assistant brought me a glass of water, which I barely touched. Then, at last, I heard the soft clack of heels against the tiled floor. My head shot up. Eloise walked in with a tablet in one hand and her phone in the other. She wore wide-legged ivory trousers and a black silk blouse tucked neatly at the waist, her curly hair pulled back in a sleek bun. She looked… god, she looked like a diva.

Maybe they could also focus on custom-made perfumes. “What?” Lily was confused. “Do you know who just called?” George clasped his hands and continued, "I don’t know if you’ve heard of the name of the actress who had previously won the Best Actress award, Eloise Neville. She was a superstar before getting married into the Tanner family.” Lily was surprised before admitting, “Yes, I’ve heard of her.” Not only had she heard of Eloise, Lily even knew about her relationship with Nathaniel, but…why was she calling them?

A girl slid into the back seat next to me. "Hey, Jakey!" she yelled, her voice bright and full of energy. I was trapped. She was stunning. Her short, black leather dress left nothing to the imagination. She was all long legs and dark curls. The scent of her expensive perfume instantly filled the small space. "Hey," Jacob replied, a completely genuine, warm smile on his face, a smile that felt like a sharp jab to my ribs. "This is Elsie," Jacob said, introducing me with brutal casualness. "She's running errands."

Oh, so l could call his father Nicholas? I suspected Nicholas identified the irony in this too, but he hardly showed it as he introduced me to the shorter woman to his right. "This is my mother, Isabella Kendrick." I shook her hand warmly too, marveling at her perfectly curled brunette bob and bright red lipstick, which she was somehow pulling off despite her older age. "And this is..." "I am Olivia, and oh my God, you are so pretty!" I was suddenly enveloped in a tight hug by the final woman standing beside them all, and I was instantly drowned in her floral scenting perfume as the others chuckled lightly.

That Arlene was gone. Before Matilda could continue, the door burst open, and Olivia waltzed in with her usual exuberance. She was followed by two women pushing a cart overflowing with luxurious clothing. Olivia’s face lit up when she saw me, her smile as wide as the Nevada desert. “Darling, you look like death warmed over,” she teased, plopping onto the couch. “We need to fix that immediately.” I couldn’t help but smile. Olivia’s energy was infectious, and I’d missed her terribly. “You’re attending a wedding of lies; you need to look like you own the world.”

She wore a white haute couture dress, completely out of place in the dark, damp basement. The moment she entered, her gaze swept over the photo, and her expression shifted to near tears. "Gosh..." She covered her mouth, tears welling up instantly. "Is this Naomi?" She picked up the diary from the floor and flipped through a few pages. Her eyes darted around before she immediately said, "Naomi used to love writing novels. This must be a story she made up! She loves writing such heart-wrenching things to get attention!"

A little girl with long dark hair, standing in front of the Abram estate, a ribbon tied at her wrist. Isabella stared at it for so long I thought she had stopped breathing. Then she shoved it back across the table, her voice breaking. “Stop it! Stop trying to make me someone I’m not! I’m not her. I’m not Marisol Abram. I’m Isabella, and that’s all I can survive being.” Her shout echoed, shattering the fragile quiet. She pressed her hands to her temples, shaking her head as if she could erase the images, the words, the weight pressing down.