Viscount Edmund Bridgerton Novels & Stories

It is just not going to fund a getaway to Ireland like I had hoped. It was a busy enough night, many gentlemen dining and playing cards in the cosy firelit inn. My blood froze when I spotted Edmund himself. I almost didn’t notice him, so radically different was his appearance. Withered and emaciated. Almost skeletal as the gap around his shirt collar gaped. He must be waiting for retailoring as his suits were ill-fitting, the gaps where his body used to fill were painfully obvious.

"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!"

He was the kind of man who looked like he owned the air people breathed, and for some reason, the world loved to watch. But there was something in Elena's tone this time. Something that made my chest feel tight, like my heart already knew before my eyes did. I glanced at the screen. And locked in place. Edward Valentine. My husband. Black tuxedo, cufflinks glinting, looking like sin and old money rolled into one. He wore that practiced half-smile, a smile that made people believe him even when they shouldn't, and shoulders broad enough to carry an empire as if it weighed nothing.

Unexpectedly, the Viscountess takes a step forward, looking so determined in her eyes. "Then, let me lend you a hand to end the Majesty's rage. I know, I am one to blame with this, for injecting my frustrated emotions into the Majesty's heart." Fidgeting, the Viscountess claps her hands together as he forced out an angelic smile. "We don't have much time to waste, so you better hurry with your business. I don't want my other Knights to keep on waiting for me." Archduke Ridge spats as his eyes look indifferently at the two Silverfang citizens.

Lord Griffin Blackwood-Carter, Viscount Torrington, the future 10th Duke of Richmond, stood before her, with enough tension emanating from his body to fire a rocket to the moon. “Oh… Griffin,” she breathed unnecessarily, her mind at once accepting that he was the most sublimely handsome male she had ever seen and rejecting that fact at the same time.

“No. “ I put a stray lock from my hair behind my ear . Then I scold myself. What am I doing, I am not some 16 year old teen getting nervous over a kiss, doing girly things. “I am Edward. “ he says. I press my lips together. “What?” he asks, a strange glimmer in his eyes that makes the green color more outstanding. “Nothing, “I say, “It just sounds.. royal?” He laughs. “My mother is English. “ ‘I figured, “I say, “The accent, I mean. “ “Oh, yes. I lived in England… most of my life. “ “What are you doing here then? “ “My father. And you didn’t tell me your name. “

“He seemed too young to be ‘The Senior’ himself, as the title implied a more seasoned man. His posture, the aura that radiated even from behind, the suit he was wearing… His buzzed hair made it hard to discern his hair shade, but it seemed dark brown, like Eduardo’s. ‘But he has soft, curly hair, unlike the groom before my eyes.’ I thought to myself. He pivoted slightly as I stepped next to him. My eyes slowly met his, and I shivered to my very core when his familiar gaze locked into mine. He greeted me with a nasty grin, as he leaned towards me to whisper in my ear. He raised his left hand, covered with freshly dried blood, holding it slightly before my face. ‘‘Take a good look at this, Emi

He’s been great company, handsome and manly too, in a way that makes me doubt his age of twenty-five sometimes, but it’s never been more than that. I’ve had casual dates, too many to count in the last year, but nothing substantial and real enough to last past the initial date. I’ve been too busy between school and crossing things off my bucket list to pursue romantics, anyway. I was good. I really was. Until I stumbled upon news of the Viscontis in spring. Rumors swelling around the recently divorced billionaire seen on multiple occasions with a heiress from a wealthy American family, and talks of a possible marriage.

It brightens and beautify the whole place. It still baffles me that all the things happening to me is so real. I was actually married, not just to any kind of man but to man who loves me deeply and I can trust with my life. A principled man who is not moved by worldly pleasure. He was principled and ethical. I danced and also hugged a lot of friend and well-wishers who came around. My eyes almost pooped out when I saw a well-dressed lady in a matching green shade which was undeniably beautiful. She was dancing at one corner not too far from where I was with Ohio

Outside. Currently, the average looking man was tailing his target for the evening, a man in his late 50's who was currently being accompanied by a young woman who appeared to be in her late 20's and a few armed guards at a distance to give the couple some space. His name is Lord Stevens Von Earshire and he is a Viscount for this country. The man was following these people at a distance to keep them from picking up on his trail while thinking about the events that lead to him even being in that mansion that night. '.....If only I didn't owe him that favor, I wouldn't have been forced to do this crap job.'