Romans & histoires Viscount Bridgerton

Her face was covered with a red veil that was thin enough for Daniel to make out her features. I thought I said that the wedding gown should be in ivory, Daniel thought before his friends were whistling behind him. “Daniel is so not going to like this,” “He will have to control her,” “I never expect the Viscount will be finding something in his bride to match,” Daniel turned to glare at his friends as Ian, Niklaus, and Tom were smirking at him. The Viscount rolled his eyes before the lady in red was walking toward him with a confident stride. He had never seen Caroline be so confident before.

If Prince Charming wore Armani, I’m sure he’d look like this. Prince Charming—yes, Prince Charming—that is the name that fits him best. His fingers remain wrapped around my wrist, firm but not painful. With effortless grace, he plucks the glass from my hand. “I daresay you’ve had quite enough for tonight,” he says, and his thick British accent hits me instantly, sending my heart doing backflips. It’s deep, rich and velvety, the kind of voice you’d hear men speak with in a Bridgerton series.

Liam's voice shook, a mixture of disbelief and rage threading through each syllable. Mrs. Voss swallowed again, glancing at Mr. Voss. His expression was unreadable, frozen in shock, jaw slack, hands gripping the arms of his chair. “My ex-boyfriend,” she continued slowly, “he came back from England years ago. I… I visited him. That’s all I intended, just a visit. But one night… one night, things went too far. We were… we were drunk. And… we had sex.” Her eyes flicked down, shame and guilt radiating from every line of her face.

His presence had become something she relied on without realizing it—his steadiness, his warmth, his certainty. Before she could gather her breath, the door slid open. It wasn’t Dante. It was Verena. Her heels clicked sharply on the floor as she stepped inside, arms crossed, red lips curved in something like satisfaction. “So,” Verena drawled, “you’ve caused quite the disaster, haven’t you?” Amara stiffened. “This isn’t the time.” “Oh, I think it’s the perfect time.” Verena leaned against the console. “I warned you earlier. Dante burns everything he touches. And somehow—somehow—you’re at the center of all of this.”

Emily took a deep breath and tried to calm her racing heart as she stood outside the wedding chapel. She had imagined this moment a million times, but never quite like this. She was about to marry a man she barely knew, a man who was over double her age and a billionaire businessman named Alexander Pierce. The door to the chapel opened, and a woman in a white gown emerged, followed by a man who was clearly her groom. Emily stepped forward, taking her place at the back of the line. She wasn't sure what to expect, but she was determined to make the most of this opportunity.

The camera flashes pulled her back to the present. Aria turned slightly, the weight of her diamond ring catching the light as she lifted her hand just enough for the photographers. Her smile was soft, practiced, almost believable. Almost. Beside her, Ethan stood tall and composed, one hand resting lightly at her waist. To anyone watching, they looked perfect. Powerful. Elegant. Untouchable. A billionaire and his bride. A marriage people envied before it even began. But Aria felt it. The distance. Even now.

Ethan replied, his tone equally controlled. Adrian’s gaze shifted to me. Slowly. Deliberately. “And this must be the fiancée,” he said. I felt the weight of his attention like a spotlight. I forced a small, polite smile. “Ava Bennett,” I said. His eyes didn’t leave mine. “Interesting,” he murmured. Something about the way he said it made my skin prickle. “Congratulations,” he added, though it didn’t sound entirely sincere. “Thank you,” I replied.

That he was willing to do what Heather wanted not because of the debt but because he's cheating with her. My breath caught. Something inside me cracked, silent but violent. Heather was the first to see me. She didn’t even flinch. She simply smiled against his neck and said, “Oh. Hi, Valerie.” Theo froze. Slowly, he pulled away from her. His gaze met mine — not with guilt. Not with shame. Just mild irritation and maybe a little surprise. “Val? W-Why are you here?” he asked, like I was some stranger who'd just let herself in.

But her face was haggard, her eyes carrying the weight of terrible decisions already made. "Marten," she said, her voice careful. "Good. You found someone?" "This is Raina from the south side of town, Raina, this is Magistrate Corvin. She was helping oversee the town council before, and now she's... well, she's trying to help keep everyone together." Marten said. Corvin studied me with the same sharp intelligence I'd seen in Marten's gaze. "You're hurt," she said. "My arm, I think it is broken" I admitted.

He was accompanying a good partner of theirs, Countess Quartz. The most notable coupling of all was Natalia Adamantine and the man who broke high society when he appeared a few years ago out of nowhere, Sir Marvis Jane. He was the first werecreature to become an ordained knight jointly by the royal family and the church of Ducroft. Although he had the title of Baron, there wasn’t anyone who didn’t know about his strength. He was one of the people who struggled with Fredrich at contests, tying with him and Sebastian.