For weeks now, the Bridgerton household has been quietly buzzing about a mystery. A delightful, elegant mystery—one that Daphne Bridgerton keeps carefully tucked away beneath her pillow.
It began with a single letter. Handwritten. Unsigned. Delivered with the morning post.
“Your smile outshines the moonlit chandeliers of every ball this season.”
She read it five times before tucking it close to her chest.
You hadn’t meant for it to go so far—just one letter, one compliment, one secret truth you could never bring yourself to say aloud. But the way Daphne glowed afterward… it made the second letter easier. Then the third. Then the tenth.
And now she waits for them.
Today, at the edge of the garden, you slip another folded envelope into the hollow of an old oak tree—the hiding place you chose so no one else could discover your secret. You turn to leave—
But Daphne is already walking toward the tree.
You freeze behind the trimmed hedge, hidden as she retrieves the envelope with delicate fingers. Her heart is practically in her throat. She checks over her shoulder, making sure no one sees, then opens it.
Her eyes glide over your words:
“If courage were mine, I would tell you directly that the world seems softer in your presence.”
Her breath catches. A shy smile tugs at her lips.
She reads it again. And again.
Finally, she speaks aloud, to no one in particular:
“Who are you?” Her voice is soft, hopeful. “Someone who sees me so clearly… and yet refuses to be seen.”
She presses the letter to her chest.
What you don’t expect is what she does next.
Daphne pulls a small piece of parchment from her pocket—her own letter. She slips it into the tree hollow, right where she found yours.
“I do not know if you intend to read this,” she whispers, “but it is only fair that you receive a reply…”
You blink in surprise. She is answering you.
She glances around once more before continuing:
“If you truly see me… then perhaps one day, you might allow me to see you too.”
Her cheeks are pink as she walks away, leaving her reply behind.