Where violets grow (Bridgerton FANFIC)

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒂𝒘𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑮𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒂

𝐿𝒶𝒹𝓎 𝒲𝒽𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓁𝑒𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓃'𝓈

𝚂𝙾𝙲𝙸𝙴𝚃𝚈 𝙿𝙰𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚂
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𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎, 𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚗𝚎𝚠𝚜.
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────────── ⊹ ⊱ 𝜗𝜚 ⊰ ⊹ ──────────

Dearest Gentle Readers,

What joy it brings me to open this season—one that promises to brim with all the passion, mystery, and mischief our beloved ton holds dear. How fitting that we begin with a most thrilling arrival: the young Viscount Tewkesbury, freshly arrived in London to claim his place among society's elite and to inherit the title of Marquess of Basilwether.

This captivating young gentleman not only possesses an impeccable lineage but also brings with him a fortune as grand as any in the land, setting the ton abuzz with anticipation. With an air of mystery and youthful charm, he has already left many a debutante breathless—and many a mama scheming. How rarely does one encounter such a striking blend of youth, wealth, and noble blood wrapped in a single gentleman?

But, dear readers, what brings him to us now? Is he in search of a bride to complement his lofty title, or does he seek the more thrilling pursuits that our fair city so generously offers? While some insist that Lord Tewkesbury is driven purely by duty, ready to fulfill his responsibilities with quiet dignity, others whisper that he harbors ambitions far beyond merely securing a suitable match. For beneath every well-tied cravat often lies a heart filled with desires yet untold.

As the season unfolds, I urge you to keep a watchful eye on this promising young lord. Whether he becomes ensnared in love's delicate web or caught in the endless intrigues of London society, rest assured, Lady Whistledown will ensure that no detail escapes notice. Where there is new blood, dear readers, there is bound to be excitement—and perhaps a hint of scandal.

So raise your glasses to the start of what promises to be a most unforgettable season. With Lord Tewkesbury's arrival, London will have much to discuss. And I, as always, shall be here to deliver every delicious detail straight to your eager hands.

Yours in scandal,
Lady Whistledown.

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The sun hung low in the sky as Lord Tewkesbury, the newly minted Viscount of Basilwether, settled into the plush interior of his carriage. The rhythmic clatter of the wheels on the cobblestones outside provided a strangely comforting background to his swirling thoughts. He peered out of the window, watching the verdant countryside blur past, each passing tree and hill a reminder of the life he was leaving behind.

He had always known that the time would come when he would take on the responsibilities of his title, but the sudden death of his father had propelled him into this new world sooner than he had anticipated. Tewkesbury had grown up in the shadow of his father's legacy, yet now that legacy felt like a weight pressing down on his shoulders. The quietness of his family estate was now replaced by the expectation of the bustling city of London, a place brimming with society, scrutiny, and endless opportunity—yet it also felt like a lion's den.

Dressed in somber black, a fitting tribute to his late father, Tewkesbury leaned back against the plush upholstery, allowing his mind to wander. His grandmother, Lady Basilwether, also clad in elegant mourning attire, sat across from him, poring over a meticulously organized list of names—potential suitors for him, no doubt. He could feel the weight of her expectations hanging in the air like a thick, oppressive fog. She looked up, her brow furrowed with concern, and Tewkesbury could see the deep worry etched on her face.