𝗗𝗢𝗥𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗔 ‎ 𝗔𝗕𝗕𝗢𝗧𝗧.

oh, charles.. 〈 she feels herself getting a bit teary - eyed, and finds herself pulling him into a hug. 〉 this is all so perfect. you’re perfect.

〈 @mulishparamour 〉

〈 a gasp of surprise leaves her. 〉 charles.. you set all of this up?

i do. 〈 a small smile as she takes his hand. 〉

no, no, i don’t mind at all.

well then.. i suppose that we have the rest of this life for you to show me just how much good you think i deserve, do we not?

you’ve done far too much if you ask me. i’ve never had such things done for me, even when i had my season.

you called me mrs. bridgerton already, and you send me flowers, and you check in whenever you can, and you pay me visits, and so much more. however would i even get the chance and time to think otherwise?

no, no. because you make up for it in different ways ── in many ways.

not from what i am aware of.

as well as for me, mr. bridgerton.

oh i certainly will.

it certainly does sound better coming from you.

call me that again.

so much so that you’ve repeated it despite me already stating it?

i might be inclined to agree with that. mrs. dorothea bridgerton sounds better, no?

it does. i quite like it, to be honest.

already pulling out the ( future ) mrs. bridgerton? you certainly know how to be persuasive.

ah, is that so? are you truly so impatient to wait for me to become your wife, mr. bridgerton?

the tragedy. however could i make up for it?