Viscount Bridgerton Novels & Stories

Viso was a respectable man and known for his good works around the world. She was terrified thinking about his reaction if this turned out to be true. But how would she know that she was not married to some respectable billionaire but the mafia royalty? The Boss of Bosses, The Bonkers, Viso D'Angelo!

Aiden’s father was in the forefront, followed by Aiden and I. I noticed something in the lady’s dressing. It was an eighteenth-century fashion. Maybe Aiden has arranged a ball, like that in Lady Whistletown’s piece, the Bridgerton series. “No offence, sire,” she sounded refined, like the most brilliant figure picked from the past and brought to the present to block our way and tell us whatever she has in stock for us. “What do you wish for, woman?” Aiden’s father mimicked her tone. Everyone except me laughed. I was merely curious to figure out what luxury they have in stock for us this time.

"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!"

Not even for a royal couple to have a normal life. ***** Caroline was cutting the steaks that were being served during dinner with all the hatred and anger that she could master. She imagined that the steak was the Viscount’s head as she smiled when the meat was cut into small pieces. “You sure like to have that meat, my lady,” the Viscount said before Caroline looked at him. His vivid green eyes were so amused with Caroline that she gripped the fork and knife even more. Then, she put her utensils down before dabbing her mouth.

A lethal glimmer ignited within my gaze. There was absolutely no way I would allow this man to depart my city unscathed. The Viscount cast his eyes upon the Baron, who had arrived fashionably late to the dinner, and all the insults he had meticulously crafted vanished into thin air, leaving his mind utterly blank. Elegant. Gazing upon Riel, Viscount Milan couldn't help but be captivated by his regal presence. In that moment, he forgot his own noble status, for Riel embodied the essence of true nobility

The girl looked up to Alesteria and her eyes brightened, something that made her look cuter from Alesteria's perspective. "I-I'm Evangie C-Cristoff. My family is a V-Viscount." 'A Viscount. Not bad.' A Viscount house may not appear to have much authority, which is true, yet this is not a weakness. They can get away with anything and the nobility won't notice because they aren't regarded as 'high rank' by the majority of the aristocracy. Most Barons and Viscounts are commoner tradesmen who earned or purchased a title for themselves.

’ Pale, soft, and chubby… My mind conjured an image of a freshly baked Chelsea bun. The golf cart turned a bend on the path. A vast expanse of green opened up before us. In the distance were forests and a lake. Closer by stood two men in athletic wear, deep in conversation. The man in the dark blue top and tan trousers was Colin Bridgerton. Beside him, standing a good half-head taller in pristine white sportswear, was a figure of unmatched elegance. He had the broad shoulders and narrow waist of an athlete, and when he turned his head, the light carved out a profile so handsome it seemed airbrushed.

"By any chance, is Mr. Viscount manipulative?" Andre smirked. "Ms. Lynn, you know how you accuse me of being manipulative? Tony Viscount is a fox." She laughed, turning the screen to him. Apparently, the marketer's social media showed that he liked men and the CEO of Viscount corporation had visited him at the club he always frequented at night and they had left together. Perhaps he hadn't informed the chief marketer that he had a mistress who had given birth for him already. "Interesting." Andre spoke as he read it, his eyes showing how impressed he was.

I was nearly falling asleep when he returned with a lady on his arm. I was on my feet already; from her well made hair, her expensive gown to her leather shoes, I knew she was the lady of the house. "Lady Penelope, this is my bride Gwendolyn. Gwendolyn, this is Lady Penelope, the viscountess." I didn't know if I should curtsey or kiss her cheek, I didn't know how I was supposed to behave in the presence of a viscountess. She was such a young woman, she didn't even look above three and twenty, yet she was a viscountess.

And the man who saved them now stood at the altar, tall and unyielding. Damien Blackwood. The city’s most ruthless billionaire. Impeccably suited, dark eyes unreadable, lips pressed in a line that spoke of indifference rather than joy. When the priest told him to kiss the bride, Damien leaned in, his lips brushing hers for the briefest moment. To the crowd, it was romance. To Amelia, it was a contract sealed. “Remember your place,” he whispered. Her heart sank. Even on her wedding day, she was nothing but his pawn.