Viscount Edmund Bridgerton Novels & Stories

I had pictured Marquess Montclair to be a black haired devil with a mischievous smile. Moreover, that was exactly how his friend, Viscount of Bart, Viscount Neville looked; his black hair was brushed- or gelled-, to perfection, no single strand out of places, his lips curved in a mischievous tilt as he appeared to listen with rapturous attention to what Abigail was saying to a small group of the crowd around the table, him included. But as I moved around replaying glasses and plates, I noticed that his eyes kept wandering down her cleavage. Despicable, I concluded.

Aldrich sneered as he stormed out. Christopher had just come back when he saw his usually calm brother storming off. He raised an eyebrow towards his valet, Max Pike. The young valet followed Christopher to his room and told all the gossip he had heard from the parlor maids. The next morning Christopher set off to Viscount Clifford’s house. He asked for the Viscount for his daughter’s hand in marriage. The Viscount was a tactful man of court. He didn’t want to make powerful enemies. He politely declined Christopher and send him off. Beatrice sneaked away from her house and intercepted him midway.

Please accompany me," she lifted her head. Archie nodded. The woman turned and started walking through the front door. Archie did as requested and accompanied the woman. They arrived at the great Hall of the mansion and walked through the door. Inside the great hall of the mansion was the Viscount, his wife to the left and Meggy to the right. Archie stood ten feet away from them and rested a hand on his left chest. "I am Archie Seanford, the first son of the Emperor of Promor. I come on a courtesy visit to my future wife. This visit will last for three days. I bring with me some humble gifts to present to your family."

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.

He was here and would save her. “I came to find the woman I love and marry her, no matter what anyone thinks.” He threw a glare at the older man. “What is the meaning of this?” An older woman hobbled out of the room. “Who are you, sir, and what makes you think my granddaughter wants to marry you?” Finally remembering his manners, he bowed to the duke and then to Danby’s sister. “My name is Captain Barrington Braxton.” “You are the one responsible for bringing her here on your ship?” the duke asked.

Amelia said to Richard with a cold tone, and with that, she turned and began walking away. She hadn't gotten far when the same car that had brought her earlier in the morning pulled over beside her, and with that, the door of the passenger seat burst open, revealing Edward, whose eyes were covered with black sunglasses that made him look hotter than earlier in the morning when he had picked up Amelia. On seeing him, Amelia blinked twice as she wondered how on earth this man managed to always look hot effortlessly. If she didn't know who he was and what he does for a living, she would have easily thought that he was a professional film actor or a professional model.

Not if. I felt a hollow ache open up in my chest. Bridget Lorraine had been the top candidate for Damon’s wife since Margot started "shopping" for an alliance when he turned eighteen. She’d lived in France her whole life and visited often, a fixture in the Vitale social circles. In the beginning, Damon had always seemed uninterested, bordering on hostile toward her. But if that was the case... how was she here at midnight? How did she have the house code? How was Damon just standing there?

As I roam my gaze, my eyes caught a black mannequin at the corner of the room. My lips parted when I saw a gown that looked like the gown Savannah had shown me yesterday. It has the same design but it's more elegant and it looked very daring. Don't tell me— "Good that you're awake now ma'am." Said the man that moves like a lady. "I'm Edmund, your stylist for tonight." It's obvious that english is not really his first language because of his French accent. "What's happening here?" I was buoyed by what was happening around me. What are they all up to?

Mrs Andromeda's in closely observing every cap and turban in the house, and preferring her own to them all. During the first interval several gentlemen visited their box, among them was Colonel MacMillan, who came in on the heels of Mr Keswick, and begged leave to recall himself to Mrs Andromeda's memory. She was obliged to introduce him to Miss Tellaro, to whom he at once attached himself, remaining by her side throughout the interval, and alternately diverting and disgusting her with the obsequiousness and affection of his manners. He professed himself to be all amazement at not having met her before, and upon hearing that she had not yet had the honor of being presented to the Prince Rege

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.