Remembrance

Newlyweds

The grand celebration at the palace had finally come to an end, and Anthony Bridgerton and Penelope Featherington, now Viscount and Viscountess Bridgerton, found themselves in a luxurious carriage, making their way to Aubrey Hall. The quiet and intimacy of the carriage offered a stark contrast to the bustling grandiose wedding and reception they had just left behind. The moonlight filtered through the small windows, casting a gentle glow on their faces.

Penelope nestled her head against Anthony's shoulder, their hands intertwined. The warmth of his touch and the rhythmic clatter of the carriage wheels against the cobblestone street soother her. Almost in a whisper, Penelope expressed her disbelief at the day's events.

"Everything feels so surreal." She murmured. "I never imagined I could be so deserving of all this happiness."

Anthony, still processing all the happenings himself, nodded in agreement. "I understand completely, my love. I, too, can hardly believe it. To finally have you as my wife, my Viscountess... it feels like a dream."

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, each lost in their thoughts. The memory of the grand wedding, with Queen Charlotte's radiant smile and the applause of high society, played in their minds. The Queen had orchestrated a wedding fit for royalty, and her satisfaction was evident, knowing her chosen emerald of the season had made such a high-profile match.

As Anthony relived the day's moments, a blush crept up his neck, and his muscles tensed. Penelope, always observant, noticed the change. She felt his grip on her hand tighten slightly and looked up, seeing the rare sight of her now- husband blushing.

"What's on your mind, Anthony?" She asked, curiosity gleaming in her cerulean eyes.

Anthony swallowed hard. He knew he couldn't lie to Penelope. As his wife, she deserved to know his thoughts, no matter how vulnerable they made him feel. "Penelope, I'm delighted that we're officially wed. It means there are no more restrictions between us when it comes to physical intimacy. I can hold your hand, kiss you, and share every moment with you without restraint."

Penelope's cheeks turned pink as she listened, but she kept her gaze steady on his. Anthony continued, his voice lower and more earnest. "I'm proud to say that you are mine, and no other man can yearn for your affections without facing my wrath. As your husband, I am the only gentleman who can ask for three dances at a ball, and I am the only one who will escort you to any societal gatherings. Unless I'm unavailable, which, trust me, will be impossible because I intend to flaunt to the entire ton that I am your besotted husband."

Penelope chuckled softly at his possessiveness. She had always known Anthony to be a stern and domineering Viscount, as well as a protective older brother. But hearing him declare his possessive love as a husband was both endearing and amusing.

"Anthony, I'm just as delighted as you are. I'm honored to be the woman you chose to be your wife. I will relish the sight of disappointed faces when we promenade together." She teased.

Anthony couldn't resist the urge any longer. He leaned in and claimed her lips with a hunger that had been building throughout the day. The kiss deepened as he gently bit her lower lip, eliciting a soft moan from Penelope. She parted her lips slightly, allowing his tongue to explore her mouth.

Penelope responded eagerly, her hands moving to his neck, her fingers tangling in his chestnut hair. Their kisses grew more passionate, their hand roving over each other's bodies, seeking skin to skin contact.

Anthony's hand found the back of her dress, and he began to fumble with the buttons and laces. Slowly, he loosened the bodice, exposing Penelope's smooth porcelain skin. He trailed kisses down her jawline, along the curve of her neck, and to the newly exposed skin of her shoulders and chest.