The single candle left flickering on the end table, illuminated the bedchamber in a delicate glow. One that danced with a soft beam of rich citrine across the surrounding walls of deep burgundy red, while shadows of the night lingering on the other side of the clasped window, trailed behind the cast of light like climbing twists of ivy.
The atmosphere of the bedchamber was warm with a hint of humidity, a comfortable warmth that was welcome across the bareness of your exposed flesh. The heat that touched upon the air you inhaled in soft breaths, was not in part to the season, as the notion of summer had yet to even dance across the thoughts of spring. The late evening still captivated by a brisk chill, that in the early break of morning revealed itself in the softest drops of dew upon the petals of recently bloomed flora. Rain continued to wash over the cobblestone square in the late days of April, in hopes that it might bring forth more budding flowers in May. Spring was very much still in the air, but in the confines of the intimate and cozy bedchamber of Anthony Bridgerton's private lodgings, the darkness of the night outside the curtain drawn window concealed the season from your view. For it could be snowing in the streets and you wouldn't have the slightest clue.
Anthony Bridgerton's previously adorned "bachelor" lodgings, did not differ far from the picture you had painted in your head of such a space. For the walls that were saturated in the deepest shade of burgundy red, did not surprise you, but rather made you smile when your eyes fell upon the bedchamber walls for the first time. It was a masculine shade, a warm but undeniably strong hue that seemed to fit Anthony's personal taste. Along with the deep oak wood furniture scattered around the rooms, and golden accents that swirled itself in locations you were still discovering, the place and more specifically the bedchamber itself, spoke boisterously of Anthony. You hadn't a doubt that this temporary home was his own and that every inch of it was touched by his hand and keen eye.
Although Anthony had assured you on the coach ride over, that the living arrangements were only for the duration of your honeymoon and perhaps a week or two more, you found that you didn't mind much. For Bridgerton House was without a doubt lovely and you knew that the day you both moved in there, that you would be just as happy. Although neither yourself or Anthony had any rush for sweet Lady Bridgerton to move out, even as she objected and tried to explain that she must get out of their now marital space, Anthony hadn't a word of it. But as you prepared to enjoy your newly acquired marital bliss in Anthony's private lodgings, you rather preferred it here for the time being. For every inch of the place felt like him, and in turn, you felt strangely closer to the man you could now call your husband.
The night was nearly silent, as it bathed the city in a soft blanket of black that would surely dissipate at the first sign of dawn. The window was clasped shut, as Anthony worried for even the slightest wind that may leave you with a chill in the middle of the night, and loose linen curtains of a sheer white material covered the glass. The room was relatively small, a smaller space than Anthony had grown up in you were sure, but even as the four walls around you stretched in a wide hug of warming red, the space felt intimate. It didn't feel as though you swam within the structure, but rather you felt anchored in the large bed pressed up against the far wall. Resting comfortably against a pillow that smelled of his cologne, wrapped in thin white sheets that were warmed by the radiating heat of his nearby body and titling your head upwards a mere fraction, your eyes found him in an instant.
Sleep had found him quickly, as your passionate exertions of the hours before, had left him with a creeping exhaustion that curled itself around his bones. A slumber you were certain that you yourself would find just as easily as Anthony had, however when you went to close your eyes as the soft flutters of his stilled breath floated across the nape of your neck, you felt more awake than you were only minutes before. For as he fell asleep, leaving you the only soul in the room awake to your own thoughts, every transpiring event of the day washed over your mind as though they were a collection of your fresh memories, flipping at lightening speed over and over again in ever crevice of your conscious.
