Tumgir
#regency
themeadowinforks · a month ago
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oh to be a middle class lady in the 19th century who has nothing to do all day but have time to think about her romantic afflictions and her beloved
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iridessence · a month ago
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https://www.instagram.com/reel/CdbsVXWPZSn/?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=
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frozenwolftemplar · a month ago
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One of my favorite fun facts about Pride and Prejudice is that it was originally published in three volumes and volume two ends right when Elizabeth agrees to go with the Gardiners to visit Pemberly. Because imagine (longish thing below the break):
You’re a young regency-era lady going to the local circulating library and you see a new book by the author of ‘Sense and Sensibility.’ You liked ‘Sense and Sensibility,’ so you decide to borrow Volume 1. You get home, read it, and enjoy it. You like Lizzie’s sharp wit, are intrigued by Mr. Darcy’s interest in her, and cannot help but agree that, yes, Mr. Collins would be a bear to be married to. 
You finish it, chuckle at the final page containing Mr. Bennet consoling his wife over the matter of the entail by reminding her that he may be the survivor, and when it becomes convenient head to town to borrow Volume 2 (you decide to be polite and only take out one book at a time). You take it home and read. 
After a few days of leisurely visiting Rosings and being more peeved than awed by Lady Catherine’s condescension (to say nothing of Darcy piquing your interest more and more), you hit the first proposal scene. Suddenly you cannot read fast enough. He asks for her hand in the most offensive manner possible, she refuses him with fire leaping from her tongue, and when the storm calms you don’t know what to make of it. 
Then the letter. 
You didn’t realize how hard you were pulling for these two to get together until now. You hardly care about going to Brighton but instead feel a thrill when the Gardiners’ travel plans are altered to include Derbyshire because of course you remember who lives there. Then the idea of going to Pemberly is proposed, you hold your breath as Lizzie dithers over the matter, and you internally cheer when she agrees because you just know she will meet-
The book ends.
And by now it’s evening and too late to walk to town. 
dkdfjkdsfsjfsdfdsfjdsfjdsf
You resolve to head out the second breakfast is over.
It rains.
Tomorrow too, and your sister consoling you about the merits to be had in bearing trials is not helping (because she doesn’t read novels and cannot sympathize).
Then, finally, sun; cloudy sun, but you’ll take it. Dragging your sister (who you’ve decided must have been the inspiration for Mary) along since it wouldn’t do to go alone, you walk as fast as propriety allows to the library, head to the shelf, and-
Someone. Else. Has. Taken. It.
FSKJF;JFSDJF;KJDSFKJS
You curse your manners.
Then you spend the rest of the day calling on every single one of your acquaintances, even the Millers who you can hardly stand, with your moralizing sister in tow, trying to figure out who has Volume Three.
Because being driven to distraction by a cliffhanger is a universal human experience.
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clove-pinks · a month ago
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I wish people would focus less energy on weird 19th century stuff that has been widely debunked, like the idea that Victorian women constantly fainted, and START focusing energy on weird 19th century stuff that definitely DID happen, such as the many decades that men carried around decorative canes for Fashion purposes. The silly little stick era, if you will—"He carried a little stick of no earthly use", Albert Smith, The Natural History of the Gent.
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1832 fashion plate (with bonus hairdo), and you can see that the gentleman at left isn't even touching the ground with his stick, he's just carrying it. There are countless fashion plates like this, and even when the stick is the correct length, it often looks flimsy and isn't a true mobility aid.
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Somehow, even the child has acquired a little stick in this 1867 fashion plate. The man next to him has his stick tucked under his arm, which seems to be a typical way of carrying it, or you could even tuck it into your coat pockets.
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1840s dork has never heard of coat check, idk.
Two fashionable fellows in Punch magazine, 1842, just carrying their sticks.
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I'm throwing some pictures together on my lunch break so this has an 1830s/1840s slant, but you will see the little sticks from the dawn of the 19th century to the end: able-bodied men really chose to be encumbered with these for no good reason. Sometimes they're topped with tassels, or a quizzing-glass!
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justdaydreamsandimagines · 4 months ago
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Kisses in the Study
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Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Reader
~~~~~
A/N: I’ve just finished buddy reading the Bridgerton books and thus I am heavily obsessed and refusing to live in the real world because it’s nowhere near as fun as regency land with these charming chaps. Just working on helping to fill the Tumblr void of fanfiction…
~~~~~
The front door closed softly as you stepped into the settled quiet of the house, the flickering streetlamps quashed in favour of the soft candles along the walls. By now you were very much looking forward to immediately traipsing to bed – an evening at Lady Danbury’s ladies’ night always enough to take it out of even the most experienced of partygoers. Shrugging your cloak from sloping shoulders to drape over the hook beside the hallway mirror, however, you were drawn from your sleepy reverie by the sight of a familiar warm glow slipping from the ajar door to your left. You let out a quiet sigh before slipping off your shoes, hoping to retain the hush that had settled with the emerging stars and the disappearing staff, and padded across the hall towards the tell-tale sign of life.
Not even the high-pitched whining from your push to the large door roused the snoring figure sprawled halfway across the dark oak desk that occupied a large section of the room’s centre. Hair tousled from the long fingers that had run through it in thought, the jacket he’d worn to your dinner now slung over the chaise you usually kept him company from (interpret as persistently annoy, nap, and read from) leaving his well-muscled forearms bare where he’d rolled the sleeves to avoid the inevitable ink spots, it was clear your husband had been holed away almost as long as you had been out of your home. You couldn’t help but sigh once more.
Anthony was perfectly aware of your view that he put far too much pressure on himself, whether directly as Viscount or as head of his increasingly large family or generally his positions in politics and society. Throughout your marriage to one another, you had spent many a weekend hunting him down to pull him out to the sunshine and late nights luring him back to bed with a tactical robe swish and coy smile.
A single lamp at the desk’s corner cast a soft illumination around the otherwise shadowed room; a light that seemed to have read your mind as it caressed your husband’s cheekbones, hugging his broad frame, and tickling the stray strands of chestnut hair hanging over his brow. Great swathes of the ton constantly declared the Bridgerton brothers interchangeable, ‘once you’ve encountered one you’ve encountered them all’ had many a wife and sister seeing red in the tea rooms even a particularly memorable run-in at the modiste involving an outspoken (supposedly previously jilted) debutante and Sophie Bridgerton. But this couldn’t be farther from the truth. It was in the way Anthony (usually) held his tongue in public whereas Colin had more than once had to be pulled away from declaring a duel in the minute of the street, it was Benedict’s blossoming success in the art world alongside Colin’s ventures in publishing his journals, it was Gregory sneaking his peas to Daphne in exchange for her carrots and the pairing off that the eight siblings had subconsciously created. Anthony was never just Bridgerton #1 or Viscount Bridgerton. He was a husband, a protector, a quick wit and occasionally a comic, an accomplished horseman, an intensely competitive personality, a constant presence by your side with a hand upon yours or your arm whenever you left the house together – much to the chagrin of society who felt spouses should exist separately in the social sphere, heaven forbid showing any affection. He was a surrogate father to his youngest siblings, a fierce pall mall player, a shoulder for his mother even after she had moved into Number Five, the eldest child but truly sometimes with the maturity of Daphne’s youngest boy.
Here in the relative darkness of the home you shared, all those things flooded the space around you. The temptation to leave the snoozing man to what would inevitably be a sore neck and dead arm come morning as an ‘I told you so’ was weighing against your sudden, though really always present, desire to drag him with you so that the two of you could curl up with one another in the warmth and comfort of mounds of sheets and sleep in his embrace.
Your inner argument was taken from your hands when, as you took a few steps closer, the once peaceful murmurs became a discontent snort that became a full-body jerk that left Anthony upright in the chair and blinking heavily into the gloom. “Good evening Lord Bridgerton, is there something wrong with your bedchamber?”
Clearly previously unaware of your presence in his study, the jarring sound of your voice at his side shook the last of the sleep from the dishevelled gentleman’s body. Attempting to fight a yawn that threatened to dispel his argument, Anthony turned with a sheepish smile, “I thought I’d just cast a quick eye over the accounts George sent over today before you came home so you had my undivided attention darling.” Cocking an eyebrow at your husband, he could already tell you didn’t believe a word emerging so eloquently past his yawns.
Appearing to finally take note of your attire, however, a small smile found its way across his handsome features. “Knowing Lady Danbury as I do, I assume I’ve been sat here much longer than I originally thought if I am waking to your return? I do hope you didn’t lose ALL of our money hmm?” You dropped a light kiss across his temple that made him shiver despite the still warm room, before standing back with your hands placed upon your hips.
“I shall blame your not so thinly veiled insult to my abilities on your exhaustion mon cœur, although I am now reconsidering sharing my winnings…”
A long arm slowly reaching out in your direction signalled that your husband, who was smirking sleepily, had decided to pursue the distraction route in penance for overworking himself and the light-hearted dig. Too tired to give him a lecture, knowing he truly meant well most of the time and finding it dreadfully difficult to form any objection to the warmth of his hand on your skin and the earnest love in his eyes, you allowed a hand to hook behind your back and pull you to rest on your husband’s well-built thighs. Time together was often sparse during the weekdays with his responsibilities and your social expectations but, now two years into your marriage and still just as loved up as your courting days, Anthony had become determined to carve out time with you. He had even endured his brothers’ ribbing on a visit to the Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens one summer day just to see you beaming as everyone picnicked, allowing you to feed him and laughing together at his younger siblings’ antics with you draped across him. But these would always be your favourite times. Having to abandon your love at the end of every ball, promenade afternoon, or luncheon during your brief courting period had been painful and thus being able to sit or curl up with your husband (the title still forming butterflies in your stomach at the idea of Anthony Bridgerton, all yours at last) was truly the highest of blessings. You held him tighter and heard him sigh with contentment in response, light kisses dancing along your increasingly exposed shoulder in pursuit of the heat spreading as if from your very heart and soul.
Neither of you knew how long you sat together like that, head resting on his shoulder as Anthony absentmindedly kept himself awake gently releasing your hairpins and running the other hand so gently up and down your spine that you began to slip between consciousness. The fruity drinks from earlier in the evening mixed sweetly with the soft kisses being pressed to your forehead and the feeling of your husband’s strong hands now moving their way under your arms and covered legs to pull the two of you away from the desk. He attempted to keep his steps light, staying aware of the many obstacles that stood between him and the comfort and security of the bedchamber on the floor above.
Anthony felt you stir gently in his arms when his foot had reached the final stair before your door. There were so many things the eldest Bridgerton had foreseen that would make up his future but the happiness he currently held like a precious gem never even crossed his mind. He had been old enough to remember much of his parent’s marriage and love story, though it became merely a dream or a fairy-tale once he became the patriarch of his family. Now, Anthony Bridgerton could allow himself these little moments, and the hope it would only continue to flourish and bloom – perhaps to allow him as his brother had, little combinations of himself and the love of his life. For now, though he was quite content to keep you all to himself.
“Tony?” Your lidded eyes looked to him, where he realised he’d been so lost in thought that the clock had ticked by another ten minutes in the same spot.
“Yes, my dove?”
A delicate un-gloved hand reached to cup his cheek, drawing your eyes together as though they may be able to hold the sheer immensity of emotion brimming.
“I love you.”
“As I love you, with every fibre of my being love.”
Clinging tighter to his broad body that shielded you, “take me to bed dear husband.” “As you wish Lady Bridgerton, as you wish.”
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scyllas-revenge · 12 days ago
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if they’re gonna ignore all period-accurate costumes, dialogue, and social norms to the point where anne calls wentworth her “ex,” i wouldn’t be surprised if they ditch wentworth’s letter completely and instead he just whips out a shiny iphone 12 and texts her “u peirce my soul babe ❤️❤️❤️”
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yesterdaysprint · 6 months ago
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Lord Chesterfield’s Advice to His Son, On Men and Manners: or, A New System of Education, Philip Stanhope, 4th Earl of Chesterfield, 1815
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fripperiesandfobs · 4 months ago
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Costume designed by Eimer Ní Mhaoldomhnaigh for Anne Hathaway in Becoming Jane (2007)
From the Irish Costume Archive Project
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kittensbooksart · a month ago
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I made a post in my dress history blog about Pride & Prejudice 2005 costuming and it made me want to sketch Lizzie and Jane in mid 1790s clothing.
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montparnassee · 11 months ago
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Hot boy summer
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shahs1221 · 28 days ago
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Exploring Silco with a Regency style haircut for a thingy
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ofbooksandbread · a year ago
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summertime :):)
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dreamwritesimagines · 3 months ago
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Enamored [3] - Ballroom Whispers
A.N: Thank you so much for your amazing feedback my loves!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤
Summary: Dance partners must be chosen carefully.
Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, slow burn.
Word Count: 4k
Series Masterlist
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Attending balls, especially considering your father’s status in the society, was expected and normal.
Even though your father had all but abandoned you years and years ago just because of his own disillusions about your mother’s loyalty to him, you still had to follow the rules now that you were to be a part of the said society.
Either way, you had attended countless balls when you were back home, and now that you were in London, you knew that you were supposed to attend the ones in here as well. Most of your gowns were ready, your hair accessories were ready, your new jewelry was ready—
You on the other hand were not ready at all.
Your brother insisted that everything would be fine, that it wasn’t different than all the balls you had attended back home but you knew better. Especially after reading what Lady Whistledown had written about you on her paper, you knew that you couldn’t afford to make even the slightest mistake. They would all be watching you tonight since it was your very first public appearance in London, and doing anything wrong was not an option.
Your mother had given you such a strict and detailed education throughout your whole life that it was supposed to be easy for you, yet there you were, biting your nails and pacing in the room. Lucie had tried everything from making you drink ginger tea to rubbing your wrists with lavender oil, yet nothing seemed to calm you down.
“My lady, perhaps you should send for the doctor—”
“No,” you cut her off. “I will do no such thing, it’s just…my nerves.”
Lucie pressed her lips together as you walked to the full length mirror to fix your gown that didn’t really need much of fixing. Even you had to admit, dressmakers in England knew what they were doing.
Back home, your mother had made sure to hire the best dressmakers to make your dresses and now the same dresses were tweaked a little to look not completely foreign in England, but still had some traces of the original. The ivory silk seemed to flow over your body, the train –that seemed to be shorter than French fashion and longer than British fashion- and the bodice adorned with gold colored threads that your mother had always said to look beautiful in candle light. The thin lace over the cleavage of the dress looked like a trick of the light as you turned a little in front of the mirror to check it from all sides, and you heaved a sigh, then found Lucie’s gaze in the mirror.
“Do you think it looks beautiful?”
“It looks absolutely breathtaking, my lady.”
“It should distract people for some time until the rumor train hits yet again, I suppose,” you mumbled, “Not that I think it will help for good.”
“First impressions are very important,” Lucie pointed out. “You know what your mother always used to say.”
You huffed out a breath and touched your hair which was carefully pulled into a simple up-do to expose your neck. The thin golden chain with the small diamond pendant looked almost invisible at first glance, something that your mother had taught you to adapt when it came to jewelry or details on your dresses.
“Make people look again,” she used to tell you. “Attracting attention without extravagance is an art.”
“Chérie?”
You turned your head as you heard the knock. “Come in Elias!”
The door opened and Elias peeked his head in, then raised his brows.
“You look absolutely beautiful, sister.”
“And you sound very surprised,” you joked, making him chuckle as he stepped into the room.
“Lucie, would you excuse us?”
Lucie dropped a curtsy and walked out of the room before closing the door behind her. You pursed your lips, watching Elias sit down on the bed and he patted the spot beside him, so you approached him to plop down on the bed.
“Please tell me I will not make a fool of myself.”
“You will not make a fool of yourself,” he said, reaching out to squeeze your hand in an assuring manner. “Trust me, you couldn’t even if you tried.”
“Do you think that scary lady will be there?”
“Lady Whistledown?” he asked. “No one knows who she is, but I’d say so. Why are you so interested in her?”
“Because,” you hesitated for a moment. “I’ve seen how rumors can change one’s life, for better or worse. Generally worse.”
“It’s not going to happen to you,” he said, shaking his head. “The worst case scenario, they will stare at you for a while and then everyone will start dancing and drinking and having pointless conversations. If anything, it will be a boring evening.”
You pouted your lips, folding your hands in your lap.
“But,” he said, sitting up straight. “I still wanted to talk to you before, just in case.”
“About what?”
“Well,” he trailed off. “This is the first ball you’re attending here and you may find things here a bit different than what you’re used to.”
“Elias, mother grew up here,” you reminded him. “I know what not to do.”
“Oh I’m talking about people, Chérie.” Elias corrected himself and waved a dismissive hand in the air. “I know mother gave you hell until you learned how to dance and how to talk and all that. And I know for a fact that you’re a much better dancer than I am.”
“A horse is a better dancer than you are.”
He made a face at you, making you let out a small chuckle.
“What is it then?” you asked and Elias heaved a sigh.
“Well, you’re beautiful,” he said. “Took after me, clearly.”
“Right.” You tried to control your expression. “Clearly.”
“So there’s a high chance that gentlemen of London will be interested in your hand in marriage, therefore will want to get to know you better.”
Your heart skipped a beat.
“And knowing you,” Elias said with a small smile, making you tilt your head. “If God forbid you fall in love with one of them—“
“God forbid?” you repeated. “Elias don’t say that! Falling in love must be the most wonderful feeling in the world, it’s the greatest happiness—“
“Yes exactly because of this,” he motioned at you, “Please stay by my side. I really don’t want you to dance or socialize with the wrong man and get your heart broken. I understand that it’s important for you and father to get you accepted in the ton, so we need to be very careful with who you dance with tonight.”
“Something tells me you already figured it out.”
“I have,” he said. “Considering dancing is a public display of support, we should start with trusted people only.”
You shrugged your shoulders. “I know no one here.”
“And I know everyone here,” Elias sang, making you giggle. “My friends are a good bet. Let us get through this ball, and then we can figure out the rest of them.”
“Your friends? I am to dance with your friends only?”
“Just for tonight.”
Your stomach did a pleasant flip and you wet your lips, trying to come across nonchalant.
“Like…like your friend Lord Bridgerton?”
“Well yes, Anthony is a Viscount so it would make— Chérie, no.” He got distracted in the middle of the sentence and shook his head. “Do not even consider that.”
“I said nothing.”
“Yeah no, you don’t have to say anything.”
“Elias!”
“Anthony is exactly the type of gentleman you are going to stay away from.”
You pulled your brows together. “I thought you said I would dance with him tonight.”
“You will.”
“So how exactly am I to stay away from him if I will dance with him?” you asked with a mischievous smile, “Or have you come up with a new type of dance?”
Elias let out a small whine. “Well—you don’t have to talk to him while you dance with him.”
“That would be incredibly rude!” you protested. “Didn’t you just say you trust him?”
“I’d trust him with my life,” he said. “We’ve been best friends since we were children.”
“Elias at this point I cannot even pretend I follow your logic, or lack thereof.”
“It is because he’s such a close friend of mine that I would never trust him with your heart,” he said. “I know him too well.”
You shrugged your shoulders, waiting for him to continue.
“Anthony is…” he trailed off. “He would only break your heart, Chérie. And it would devastate me to see you in such a hurt state. So can you please trust me on this?”
You bit inside your cheek, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped at beat at the mention of his name. Lord Bridgerton was handsome, there was no denying that. Somehow the mere presence of him had managed to make your stomach feel like it was filled with butterflies the other day at the drawing room, and if your mother were here she would’ve scolded you but—
You were curious about this excitement pulsing through you.
“I promise to guard my heart well,” you managed to say after a beat. “Happy?”
“Delighted.” Elias deadpanned. “I swear I will not get a good night’s sleep until I make sure your heart is in good hands.”
You rolled your eyes at him. “I wonder how many men warn their sisters about you as well.”
“That’s a discussion for another time, dear sister,” he said, wiggling his brows and he slapped his knees before he stood up.
“Come on now. Let’s get through this ball before either of us changes their mind.”
You took a deep breath and linked your arm through his, then walked out of the room with him.
                                                   *
Even with the overwhelming tenseness running through your veins, you had to admit that it was such a beautiful ball. If you weren’t so strung up and almost trembling at the idea of making any mistakes, you probably could’ve enjoyed it better but you had a feeling that the minute you slipped and did something you were not supposed to, you would be reading about it on Lady Whistledown’s papers the next day.
Elias’s trusted friends were polite to you, albeit a little boring. You had danced with three people since the ball had started, but there was no sign of Anth—
Lord Bridgerton. There was no sign of Lord Bridgerton.
Not that you were looking for him. You had just happened to notice his absence by chance that was all.
You made your way to the refreshments table to grab a glass while Elias was busy with dancing with a lady and you took a small sip, keeping your gaze on the crowd. You could feel the stolen glances along with the whispers you had been pretending not to hear, so you made sure to look overly interested in the dancing couples, swirling the drink in your glass.
“I like your dress.”
Your head whirled around and your eyes caught the owner of the soft voice. It was a beautiful girl who seemed to be around your age, with a sincere smile that revealed her shiny teeth. A mischievous light was gleaming in her eyes as she took a sip of her drink as well before fixing her ivory gloves.
“Thank you,” you managed to say as soon as you pulled yourself together. “I’m Y/N.”
“Cecily,” she introduced herself. “I will faint on the floor on purpose if someone else asks me to dance before I finish my drink.”
You repressed a small laugh. “I’m afraid that would attract more dance partners to you.”
She heaved a sigh and took another sip of her drink.
“I’ve heard people talk about you,” she said. “Welcome to London. Is it very different than France? I’ve always wanted to see there.”
“Um— it’s…” you stammered, “Will your mother not be angry at you for socializing with a walking scandal?”
“My mama is very busy with finding my sisters suitable future husbands right now,” she pointed out. “This is their third season, but my first. I’m not exactly the priority.”
Oh, a third season without a husband meant really bad news.
“Gives you more time to get refreshments, I assume?”
“It’s the small victories,” she joked back. “I’m sure war generals had fewer strategies for the battlefield than my mama does for the suitors.”
This time, you couldn’t contain your laughter but quickly covered your lips with your hand, stealing a look at her.
“All is fair in love and war,” you commented. “Or suitors and ballrooms in this case.”
Cecily shook her head. “Thanks to mama, I have a guide in mind for all the eligible bachelors in this ballroom.”
“You make the perfect drinking companion Cecily, because I have no idea about them,” you said and she grinned.
“Well, we cannot have that,” she lowered her voice “I’m at your service as long as you tell me about France.”
“That sounds like a reasonable deal my friend,” you giggled and Cecily turned to the dancefloor, narrowing her eyes.
“Who have you danced with so far?”
“Um—” you strained your mind before you looked down at your dance card. “Lord Thompson…”
“Goodness no,” Cecily said. “That man could bore a newborn baby to sleep. All he talks of is how good he is at fencing.”
“And here I thought it was just my lack of interest in fencing,” you mused. “That dance felt like it lasted hours.”
“Who else?”
“Lord Radway?”
“Baron Radway?” she asked. “I heard that he gambles and hunts way too much.”
“So that’s a no,” you murmured. “And Earl Heydon.”
“I’ve had the misfortune of meeting his mama,” she said. “I already feel pity for his future bride.”
You made a face and looked over at the crowd.
“What about him?” you nodded at a good looking man on the dancefloor. “He looks rather pleasant and polite.”
“Which one? In blue waistcoat?”
“No the gentleman to his left, dancing with the lady in light blue dress.”
“Oh that’s Lord Audley,” she said. “No. He is a frequent visitor of the tavern. Drinks too much, they say. I’ve also heard that sometimes when he…”
The rest of Cecily’s sentence was lost in the buzz as soon as your eyes wandered off to the entrance and fell upon the familiar face. Anthony had just walked in with a young lady in his arm who seemed to have similar features to his, which made you think it was his sister. The lady looked as if she would rather be anywhere but here, a frown etched on her face as she turned around to say something to the gentleman behind her, making him grin while whatever she said seemed to make Anthony shake his head slightly. Your heart beat got faster as you swallowed thickly, then forced yourself to drag your glances from him to Cecily who had already followed your gaze.
“And that’s Viscount Bridgerton,” she said. “With his sister Eloise. The gentlemen behind them are Benedict and Colin, their brothers.”
You took a big sip of your drink and fanned yourself with your dance card. “I—we’ve met before. Lord Bridgerton, I mean.”
“No to him also.”
That made your ears perk up. “Oh? Why?”
“He’s a rake.”
You pulled your brows together, trying to understand.
“A rake?” you repeated, searching through your mind. “What is a rake?”
Cecily stared at you for a moment and then took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry, I forgot you’re not from here,” she said. “A rake is… well, Anthony Bridgerton is the perfect example of it. He has no interest in commitment or love, and he has had many—“ she lowered her voice, “Conquests, so to speak.”
A fire swept over your face. “Oh.”
“And for some reason, he’s one of the most eligible bachelors of the season,” she murmured. “Mamas do not seem to understand that man shall never be completely committed to someone, and ladies seem to be convinced they can make him change his ways. But he’s a menace, I tell you.”
You licked your lips, “You sound like you don’t like him much.”
“I dislike men like him,” Cecily said. “He enjoys that attention, and God knows how many hearts he broke.”
You grabbed another glass, stealing a look at the candlelight right beside you that was giving off a warm glow just so that you could stop yourself from looking at the said menace.
“That’s…good to know,” you said as the music came to an end, letting the dancers catch their breath for a moment and find new partners. “So then how—who would actually make a good suitor then?”
Cecily made a face. “No one.”
You raised your brows. “You do not have anyone you’ve set your eyes on? No one at all?”
She shook her head. “No. I know almost everything about them, so it makes me very disinterested in them.”
A small grin pulled at your lips and you stole a look at the crowd.
“I could introduce you to my brother if you’d like,” you said, making her gasp. “What of his vices? Since you know everything about everyone?”
She hesitated for a moment. “I couldn’t possibly…”
“I will not tell him, I’m just curious.”
“You promise?”
“Cross my heart.”
“He’s very handsome,” she started, “And rich and a future duke therefore a lot of debutantes and their mothers are trying to get him, and I value my peace of mind way too much to get into that rivalry. Someone would definitely scratch my eyes out, not to mention he’s way above me in social standing, he would never even spare me a glance.”
“So you think he’s handsome?”
Cecily averted her gaze from yours for a moment. “Is that the only thing you’ve heard?”
“The rest sounded unimportant so I didn’t listen. I will introduce you to him—”
“What? No!”
You let out a laugh at the sight of complete terror on her face but before you could say anything, Cecily’s eyes found someone over your shoulder, the figure making her raise her brows.
“Lady Y/N.”
Oh great, now you were going to have a heart attack then and there by the refreshments table in the ballroom and read about it the next day on Whistledown’s papers.
You swallowed thickly before turning your head so that you could look up at the owner of the deep voice.
“Miss Cecily,” Anthony greeted Cecily too after a beat without taking his eyes off of you.
“Lord Bridgerton.”
A smile warmed up your face before you remembered to greet him as well.
“Good evening, Lord Bridgerton,” your voice was soft as if your heart wasn’t already beating in your throat.
“May I have this dance if your dance card is not full?”
Cecily bit inside her cheek and shot you an almost amused look while you shook your head fervently.
“No— I mean yes,” you corrected yourself. “I’d love to.”
You would also love to be able to make sure to get to the floor without fainting of the sudden, unreasonable excitement running through your veins but you had a feeling you wouldn’t be so lucky.
He offered his hand and you took it, for some reason hating and being thankful for the gloves at the same time. You could swear he’d be able to feel your heartbeat if he would touch your skin for even a moment, and you didn’t think you’d be able to handle it.
What on earth was going on with you?
You had attended many balls back at home and not even once had you been this nervous.
When the music started and he put his hand on your waist, you took a shaky breath that you hoped he didn’t notice and stole a look at him.
“I’m afraid I’m under strict instructions to be completely quiet during this dance,” you said with a smile and a mischievous glimmer appeared in his eyes.
“What a coincidence, so am I.”
“But seeing that it would be very rude,” you said, “I think we can reach an agreement, Lord Bridgerton.”
“I’m listening, Lady Y/N.”
A giggle escaped from your lips, “I was thinking we could keep the conversation light.”
“As expected.”
“Light conversation,” you mused as you both moved within the crowd. “Very well. What are your thoughts on the British involvement in Congress of Vienna? I hear they will change the Treaty of Chaumont.”
A ghost of a smile graced his lips.
“You talked of politics at balls back in France?” he asked back and you shrugged slightly.
“I can talk about Louis VIII’s new administration?” you offered, “I have many opinions about the charter.”
That seemed to draw out a chuckle from him, the sound so new and foreign to you that it made you smile brightly.
“No?” you taunted him. “Well then, I suppose you could enlighten me about why Elias has given both of us such strict instructions. Because I’ve been warned against you.”
“Warned against me?” he repeated, amusement laced in his tone. “What have you been told?”
“I haven’t been given any details, unfortunately,” you said. “But I’m curious about the reason nonetheless.”
“Elias can exaggerate.”
“Like the time he told me you and him broke every plate at the dining room trying to see who could climb higher on the cabinet?”
“We were ten years old,” Anthony pointed out with a grin. “And I’m still banned from the Duke’s dining room I’m afraid.”
You giggled as you moved with him, his grip on your waist getting tighter for only a moment, making you hold your breath.
“Your father can hold grudges for years.”
“The Duke can be strong-willed, as I’ve been told.”
He was way too observant to miss the way you had corrected your father into Duke, but he didn’t comment on it.
“And how do you find London?” he changed the subject much to your pleasure and you smiled.
“It’s rather pleasant, I’ve made a friend,” you said. “Other than that, I don’t think the ton likes me much.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Oh the usual,” you muttered. “Whispers and glares.”
“Give them time,” he said. “Half of them will not come across as terrible once you get to know them.”
“Only half?”
“Only half,” his tone was playful. “They’re more intimidated than you than you are of them though, I promise. Glare at them back.”
You giggled as the music slowly started to fade, the dance coming to an end much to your displeasure and you tilted your head.
“All this light conversation and I still haven’t figured out why I’ve been warned against you, Lord Bridgerton.”
An arrogant smile pulled at his lips as his gaze locked to yours, making you swallow.
“I would enlighten you about the reason, Lady Y/N,” he said as you both stopped but he didn’t pull his hand back. “But I think you already know it.”
You looked up at him, your stomach doing a pleasant flip as he leaned in ever so slightly.
“It must be the same reason why your breath keeps hitching whenever I pull you closer,” his low murmur caressed your ear, making you feel almost lightheaded before he pulled back to bow his head.
“Have a pleasant evening my lady,” he said as the couples around you started to scatter around. Your face was burning so bad that you didn’t even think of dropping a curtsy before you turned around, then rushed through the crowd to step outside, the chill air filling your lungs as soon you did. There were a couple of people in the gardens but you could barely pay any attention to them, still trying to catch your breath, your heart slamming against your ribcage.
“Oh God…” you whispered, leaning back to the wall to fix your gaze on the sky, your ears muffled with blood rushing in them. “I’m in trouble.”
Chapter 4
                                        *
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starknesskenobi · 2 months ago
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Me after the credits roll on Pride and Prejudice 2005 and Bridgerton season 2 reminding me I am not the main character with a dramatic and beautifully written enemies to lovers arc.
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v1oletmoon · 3 months ago
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crying and contemplating life but in a emma. 2020 directed by autumn de wilde type a way. hopefully.
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justdaydreamsandimagines · 2 months ago
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Okay, so can I please request some Anthony fluff? Just something soft with a wife!reader. Maybe she’s laughing and joking with his siblings and someone (probably Colin lol) says something about her deserrving the Bridgerton name or something because she gets on so well with them and just fits their vibe? idk, just some anthony x wife! reader with some of the other Bridgertons.
(i just wanna be apart of the family)
Oh, don't we all! Until then, I hope that I can do justice to your lovely request and make you a position befitting a Viscountess.
A/N: I started this with the intention to have it be a little fluffy snippet but as always it's truly gotten away from me so! Enjoy this fluffy peek into our favourite large Regency family and their loves.
Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Reader
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Loud laughter greeted Anthony as he pushed open the doors to the drawing-room of his home. Having left Bridgerton House for a brief meeting with the Duke of Hastings (eventually, they'd returned to their schoolboy friendships since his sister's marriage, after much cajoling from their respective, and formidable, wives), the Viscount was taken aback by the sudden presence of his eternally-expanding family. Anthony had hoped to find his wife alone on his return, fully looking forward to kicking off his boots and throwing his coat to one side before spending the rest of the beautiful day enjoying the love of his life in every place across the estate he could come up with. It appeared, however, that society had other intentions for him seeing as the said object of his affections was currently the centre of his siblings' attention in the centre of their brightest receiving room instead. Y/N had taken up prime position on his favourite chair, as she so often did when entertaining without him as if it provided her with a sliver of the comfort and support his presence did, and was flitting expertly between a conversation with Benedict about an exhibition they were hoping to visit across town and braiding Hyacinth's hair so that it sat just as she'd seen in a new kind of magazine.
His wife. His Viscountess. The reason he got up most mornings, the woman with the twinkle in her eye and usually the extra bun in her hand, the friend (how odd his younger self would have found him, he thought, to consider his wife his best friend) who had him laughing into his soup and lounging, among other activities, under the trees across the grounds. The person whose laugh always seemed to call to him across ballrooms and the face he sought whenever her hand was not against him. This woman who had him chase her through the season, asking for dances, bringing flowers, reading her favourite books, even sitting with her mother through tea on more than one occasion. His partner in all things public and private but importantly his biggest champion, even when perhaps he himself was not. This was the woman he would fight all the Dukes and Princes in the world for one moment with, let alone to have pledged his every day for the rest of his ridiculous and chaotic life.
It wasn't until he heard a most ungentlemanly guffaw erupt from the brother who had slid next to him, with a sandwich he'd clearly pinched from a tray by their family, that the eldest Bridgerton was finally pulled from his reverie. Anthony's siblings had never pulled their punches about ribbing their oldest brother at any opportunity, but since the arrival of their newest sister-in-law, they simply couldn't believe how much new content they had. As it was, Colin was still chuckling around his stolen sustenance. "Doesn't it just make you want to recite poetry from the rooftops dear brother mine? I can practically see the hearts in your eyes, Prince Charming."
Thankfully, Colin was rescued from his inevitable fate at the hands of the Viscount by a sudden eruption of laughter from the room before them. Their attentions are caught by the bright red blush now making its way across Benedict's face across from the bizarre sight of Eloise struggling to breathe and clinging to the Viscountess as if she were the only thing keeping her in her seat. Even their usually better-reserved mother appeared to be tittering behind her teacup and Y/N looked rather bashfully pleased with herself at the effect her comment had clearly had on her family.
"Are you sure you didn't happen upon our long lost sister and marry her accidentally?"
Anthony instinctively prepared his signature glower and what would inevitably have been a rather well-rehearsed and utilised chastising, but one glance across the room had the breath knocked from him rather uncharacteristically at the dazzling but mischievous smile being shot at him by his equally ethereal wife. As it had been since their very first meeting, all the noise and bodies around them seemed to melt away into a fuzzy haze. The bustle of rooms ceased to exist and there was nothing even his meddlesome family could do that would draw him from the gaze of the one person who seemed to peer directly into his soul and still come away beaming and with a face mirroring his own adoration.
Both elder Bridgerton boys wiggled their brows at him suggestively, inches away from making some unseemly joke or another, but Viscount Anthony Bridgerton was far too busy striding towards the woman grinning at him with their niece now settled contentedly atop her lap. Society be damned, he thought to himself, a wide smile gracing his face as he took her cheeks in hand and kissed her with every ounce of love and passion he held - for their past, present, and future.
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peterpparkrr · 9 months ago
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art is to feel | A Bridgerton Series
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Paring: Anthony Bridgerton x F!Reader
Summary: Anthony Bridgerton has only one goal for this upcoming social season. To find a wife. What will he do when a young woman with no desire for marriage comes waltzing into his life? 
Chapter 1
Chapter 2 
Chapter 3 
Chapter 4 
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7 
Chapter 8 
Chapter 9 
Epilogue 1 
Epilogue 2 
drabbles
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yesterdaysprint · 5 months ago
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Lord Chesterfield’s Advice to His Son, On Men and Manners: or, A New System of Education, Philip Stanhope, 4th Earl of Chesterfield, 1815
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scyllas-revenge · 12 days ago
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shitty persuasion bingo
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part 2 here
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historicalsimslife · 3 months ago
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TS4: Regency Spencer Walking Dress
new mesh, base game compatible (mesh edit of a Sims 3 top and Sims 4 dress)
comes in 12 recolors (3 dark/muted & 9 with bright colors)
the bonnets in the preview are by @linzlu and you can get them here 
DOWNLOAD (blog+SFS)
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