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rynnaroo · 10 days ago

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♡ MY PRETTY GIRL

♡ pairings: mira ✗ female!reader

♡ genre / mentions: fluff, emotional vulnerability, touchy!reader, touchstarved!mira, reader is a lovesick for mira, teasing, gentle!reader, i adore mira so much omfg — | w/c : 2k+ | ♬⋆

♡ a/n : first time writing for k-pop demon hunters! Just me being infatuated with mira and all her soft, stubborn, touch-starved glory. I hope you enjoy — more to come for each of the girls, probably. She’s not letting me go :3

“Can you like, not keep doing this?” Mira's voice was taut, pinched at the edges like a tightly drawn string, sarcasm threading into each syllable, yet not enough to contain the subtle tremor beneath it.

You disregarded it, you always did when it came to her because Mira — your Mira, frustrated and flustered into a result you have come to adore — was beneath you, back perched against your headboard in some rare stolen hour between rehearsals and attempts to complete their mission.

You were perched rather comfortably over Mira, legs entwined with hers, fingertips sweetly tracing the delicate path of her brows, sculpted, styled with intention and precision, the arches crisp like the high-hung moon over Seoul. Her features were aching to be touched by you.

You had a harmless theory that proximity might solve this; her beauty.

Entirely undone by her face; a striking geometry of sharp cheekbones, the cut of her chin like it was carved with perfection, sharp angled eyes framed by thick, ink-black lashes that curled even when she was glowering.

Mira was so… hard to gaze at directly. And not because she was harsh on the eyes — no, that would never be the case. She was so exquisitely composed while still looking like she was etched from rebellion and fight. Mira was the kind of pretty that bruised you on contact. So incapable of making any expression that made her look even a tinge bit hideous, and this hurt your chest.

Constricted your heart until it shriveled and let out a tight, “stop fucking doing this to me!” Worst of it all, you were free to touch. Free to look, and free to love.

“Seriously, you’re so annoying, stop.” Mira huffed, swatting at your hand half-heartedly, tone thickening around the consonants when she was annoyed — a little deeper, a little rougher — and that alone coursed something fluttering and unhinged through your chest.

But you discerned the corner of her lip twitching, so you continued charting the apples of her cheeks, knuckles stroking over the delicate slope of her nose — a nose that slightly scrunched every time you complimented her, like her body was physically rejecting the praise. Mira, K-pop idol slash demon hunter, certified world-class badass, crumpled under the weight of your affection like paper folding inward.

“You’re so pretty, Mira,” you breathed out just to provoke her. "the most pretty thing this world — or any world — has ever coughed up. Demon realms included.”

Her expression tightened, a microsecond flicker of defensiveness. She never knew what to do with that word. Pretty. Ugh. "Don't start."

“So prettyyyyyy,” you murmured with a head tilt, “Stop fighting me on this. I always win.”

She muttered something in her language, too low for you to catch, her eyes rolling. She was still trying to hold onto that cool-girl exterior she composed, forged in the shadows of an upbringing that expected perfection and obedience. Yet Mira had always chosen defiance over deference. And when it came to you, she mollified despite herself. Not all the way, not obviously. But you have learned to read her tells. And you loved that — you thrived for that.

“You’ve always said I’m fierce,” she weakly retorted, her voice softer now, delicacy in its unraveling. “Deadly. Intelligent. Badass.”

"Yeah, you're still all those things, we've been over your resume," you shifted downward to peck her cheek, "but it still doesn't change the fact that you're pretty."

Mira groaned, infuriated like it cost her in allowing this to happen. "you're being dramatic.”

“If being in love with you counts as dramatic, then yeah. I’m a whole walking k-drama.”

Still, she did not move even with her small chuckle, so you resumed your worship; the pads of your digits leisurely skimmed along her temple, then down to the line of her jaw, which ticked as she attempted to not to react.

Your thumb nudged a strand of hair away: that vibrant, lacquered cherry-blossom hue, rich with depth and dimension in that perfectly careless way only Mira could make deliberate. A shade that should clash with everything, but somehow looked like it was born to halo her like an afterthought from a dream, even in the low lighting of your bedroom.

Her skin was velvet-smooth, radiant with a fair hue kissed by cosmetics and light, always seeming to glow — as if she swallowed the stage lights whole.

The beginnings of her brows met into a crinkle, complimenting the ‘irritated’ pucker of her lips. Dusk brown irises disappeared beneath her eyelids, but even then you found wonder at the sight of her lashes — dense and long, kissing the skies above.

You knew her. You knew she was watching you behind them, cataloguing this moment for reasons she might never verbally reveal. Mira was observant like that — hyper-aware, always reading between gestures and breaths. She would likely dissect this entire moment into mathematical vectors and psychic readings if she could. But instead, she allowed you to touch her like this.

And you were far too gone to stop. Not when her hand coasted up your spine, splayed wide as if she was afraid you would float off without her. That quiet tiny ‘mine’ was always in her touch, never hidden or subtle.

The tip of her nose nudged yours as she expressed, “I can never say no to you.”

You grinned against her cheek, a little bashful, but full of certainty. You both knew the answer, Mira would go to fucking war with anyone, anything within this universe if you ever asked her to.

So with this in mind, you began to reward her with a string of kisses — purposefully, annoyingly — one dot at a time. Eyelids. Cheek. Chin. Bridge of her nose, until you finally trailed lower as she stayed completely still.

But her hands? They twitched like they were dying to tickle, to grip, to grab, to threaten war against your sides.

You felt her smile rise against your palms when she felt the gentle press of lips, and her fingers curled at your nape, where the roots grew wild and thick, soon threading into your hair like she was grounding herself in you.

You pulled away and almost immediately, she sulked, feline-like gaze sharp in betrayal. “Come back, now.” But when you leaned back in, dismissing her command to resume your affectionate torment, that frown only deepened.

Your forefinger traced the soft bow of her upper lip, observing how it twitched upward with her low beseech, and you dipped lower, tugging her bottom lip down with the lightest pressure. It sprang back into place, bare and perfect, and something about the bounce of it made your mind spiral into places far less innocent than your current pace suggested.

She parted her mouth slightly, and just what the actual fuck? The sight of her, beneath you like this, grace stitched into every line of her form — honed, angular, beautiful— sent your pulse soaring.

Your hands moved over the veiled muscle of her shoulders, kneading gently but with intention, thumbs working into the persistent tension knotted there. You knew where she held it — her neck, her traps, always tightened like she was bracing for the next conflict. And perhaps she was, but just not when she was in your presence.

Mira’s hands found a niche on your hips and pulled you deeper into her, a low hum reverberating in her as her lashes fluttered down.

“That feels good, baby… Don’t stop.”

Her voice oozed over your nerves like syruped wine — sweet, intoxicating, clinging. You made it your life purpose right then and there that you would not dare to stop.

You dug in, not to press but to mend, thumbs rubbing each tense line where she held herself too tightly, like her body was still fighting invisible battles. You longed to ease her, to earn this closeness with the nurture in your fingertips.

You longed to unmake every twist and smooth every edge, as if the longing inside you might finally subdue — the longing that throbbed, that begged to burrow into her chest and make a permanent home there.

It terrified you, how much you loved her. Sometimes the experience of loving her was so immense it felt like your ribcage might splinter under it. Too infinite for one human vessel to contain. Like she consumed every crevice and corner with the smallest glance, the hitch of a brow, the spasm of her smirk. And the worst part? She knew. Mira knew exactly what she did to you.

And she was damn smug about it. Which meant she deserved a little punishment — it served her right.

So you kissed her, anywhere and everywhere.

Harder this time, resistant, loving punctuation marks pushed against her every feature — every kiss a tiny war declaration of its own. No oxygen, no reprieve. Let her suffer the same surging emotions she dealt you daily.

“Okay—okay, wait—Y/N, stop—”

Helpless laughter tumbled out of her throat, assisted with the pathetic, adorable resistance of words that were no use against your pure assault. “No, you’re too gorgeous. It’s a problem.”

“Eeenouuuuuuugh—” She captured your face between firm, decisive hands, nails gently grazing into your cheeks before kissing you. Not slowly, never timidly, but not exactly perfect either.

It landed somewhere between hurried and trickling, sweet in a clumsy kind of way? Like she meant to keep it simple, but something in her tugged too hard. Like her body overruled the plan, and now her mouth was on yours, trembling just slightly with all the restraint she was not wielding.

You scrunched your nose against her lips, half-whining, half-laughing. “You enough with that.”

Mira only leaned back only a fraction to let her grin break wide — pearly whites gleaming, certain of herself in the way only she could be. Her lashes hung low, casting soft shadows on her cheeks, which harbored the faintest hue, like rosewater brushed delicately over skin.

She was breathtaking, not perfect nor untouchable. Just Mira who was soft and cocky and utterly undone by you.

She leaned in again, hot exhale breezing across your flesh, “Come here.”

Like you’ve ever been anywhere else?

“I wanna kiss you again.” Thumbs caressed your cheeks, every so often pushing into the softness. She seemed pleased at the sigh that left you, continuing the movement before moving on to the outline of your mouth.

Her knuckle feathered past the dip of your lower lip, eyes fixated on yours the entire time like she was perceiving how you dismantled. Then her fingers travelled up, along the ridge of your cheekbone, trailing to your hairline. She slips her hand into your hair, wrapped it with such sweetness before firmly tugging — just enough for your breath to stutter.

It was habitual, the way she fucking touched. No second-guesses. or reluctance, only ever knowing how to handle and love you.

“Only if you say it.” your palms made contact with the plush cotton of her oversized sweater — right over her heart. You felt it, Mira's heart thumping hard beneath your hands, contradicting how she scoffed.

"Nope." Her fingers were already moving with conviction, winding around your neck and giving a small squeeze. She felt your own heart stuttering at her actions, giving her a notion that you might just drop it.

Her eyes — an abyssal of dark browns, so clear and unreadable all at once — did not miss anything. She regarded your reaction like she was committing every flicker of muscle, every inhale, every caught breath to memory. Smiling, she brought her hand up to cradle the curve of your head, trying to pull you into her orbit again.

But you did not budge. You held your ground, giving her a look that was tender, maybe even mirthful. But she noticed the change of your expression — the stubborn set of your brow, the silent insistence behind your irises.

You lowered your octave, “Say it.”

Her mouth quirked, defiant even in surrender. “Hmmmmm, no.”

Your fingers bunched in the fabric at her waist, rumpling into that stupidly cute sweater with the pouty bear on the front. You yanked her closer — not enough for a kiss, but just enough for her to inhale your addicting fragrance. For her frown to transform into something nearly pouty.

And then, right near her mouth, you crooned, “Say it, and you can kiss me.”

Her eyes closed for half a second like the weight of the moment was too much. A soft, almost unwilling heave spilled from her chest, shoulders drooping before finally falling into it; anything to reach both of your desires.

“Fine,” she muttered, exasperated but downright flushed. “I'm pretty. I'm your pretty girl.”

The second she confirmed it, you smiled — sun-bright, toothy, no more teasing left. You dove forward without a protest, pressing your mouth to hers with renewed force. Your arms fastening under hers in a hold that made it clear; Mira was yours, and she was not getting away.

One hand kept her face in place, and Mira emitted the faintest moan, an involuntary act from her part, from the back of her throat. The sound ignited you from the inside out, body scorching from that one low and soft Mira sound no one else will ever get to hear.

The kiss burned from spark to blaze, no warning, just need — all heat and no hesitation. Heat tangled through every second, her figure shifting up in hopes to dissolve into you. But still, it was Mira who found the words.

“You’re not getting rid of me, you know.” Her voice was hoarse, chest out of breath, words inevitable. “You’re not getting rid of me, ever.”

Her brows knitted together while her jaw trembled from such assurance, such softness. Hot palms slithered beneath your shirt, digits extending around your bare sides while an intense gaze stayed in yours.

“Even if some demon claws through the damn window. Even if I get called to a mission mid-kiss. Even if you wake up one day thinking this whole thing’s too much…” She paused, shivering at the feel of your touch. “I’m still here. I’m staying. You got me.”

The impact of her speech crashed into you all at once — not sweet, not flowery, sincere. And when you did not say anything, just stared at her like your lovesick heart was threatening to escape the confinements in your ribcage, she cleared her throat and mumbled,

“...And yeah, I’m your pretty girl, or whatever.”

You laughed, somewhere in between love-struck awe and appalled, and Mira dipped her head with a blush she could not hide fast enough.

You already caught her through the curtain of your lashes. A gleaming liveliness in your pretty eyes, And it illuminated all over her — in the warmth of your cheek against her collarbone, in the fingertips still tangled in her sweater.

Mira felt something ascend in her chest, a blooming, a breath of spring thaw melting years of frost, the dizzying realization that this — you, all of you — was hers.

And she was yours; your pretty girl. And nothing in the world has ever made her feel more fucking safe.

#k pop demon hunters #k-pop demon hunters #mira kpdh #divider credit: cafekitsune #mira kpop demon hunters #kpdh mira #kpdh mira x reader #kpdh mira x female!reader #mira x reader #mira x reader fluff #kpdh mira x female!reader fluff #rynnawrites 🫧

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rynnaroo · 1 year ago

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British Titles

I usually don't share posts of this type, but I've taken the liberty of doing so because I've read several fanfics and seen too many posts both here and on TikTok, in which it's more than evident that many people don't know how British noble titles worked in the 18th and 19th century. This is something I've seen more in the Bridgerton fandom, but many content creators or writers from other fandoms have made the same mistakes when interpreting noble titles.

First of all, I would like to clarify something. English and British noble titles are not exactly the same, although they are related. The following explains the difference and the historical context:

Historical Context.

England:

Before the formation of the United Kingdom, England had its own system of noble titles.

Titles such as duke, marquess, earl, viscount, and baron were common.

2. Great Britain:

In 1707, with the Act of Union, England and Scotland united to form the Kingdom of Great Britain.

After this union, noble titles became titles of the Kingdom of Great Britain.

3. United Kingdom:

In 1801, with the incorporation of Ireland through the Act of Union, the Kingdom of Great Britain became the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland.

This further expanded the scope of noble titles.

Noble Titles.

Despite these political changes, the titles themselves (duke, marquess, earl, viscount, baron) remained consistent in terms of hierarchy and honor. The main difference was the realm and origin of the title:

English Titles:

Referred specifically to those created in the Kingdom of England before 1707.

Examples: Duke of Norfolk, Marquess of Winchester, Earl of Derby.

2. British Titles:

Refers to those created after 1707 in the Kingdom of Great Britain and later in the United Kingdom.

Examples: Duke of Marlborough, Marquess of Rockingham, Earl of Chatham.

Differences and Similarities.

Similarities:

The hierarchy and responsibilities of the titles remained the same, regardless of the change in the kingdom's designation.

Titles granted by the British crown maintained the same forms of address and privileges.

2. Differences:

British titles cover a broader scope, including Scotland and Ireland (later Northern Ireland).

English titles were specific to the Kingdom of England before the formation of Great Britain.

In short, while English and British noble titles are part of the same hierarchy and nobility system, the main distinction lies in the political and historical context in which they were created. During the 18th and 19th centuries, this difference was based on whether the titles originated before or after the unions that first formed Great Britain and later the United Kingdom.

Now then, with that said, I want to mention that my main reference for this is the article 'ENGLISH TITLES IN THE 18TH AND 19TH CENTURIES' by Jo Beverley, who is a Member of the RWA Hall of Fame for Regency Romance. Here is the link if you want to read the original article: On Titles (jobev.com)

It is also important to mention that, as Jo Beverley said, this brief run-down of English titles is for use by fiction writers. It is by no means comprehensive, but covers the more common situations arising in novels set in the above periods.

Now, the peerage basically runs according to primogeniture, ie the eldest son gets nearly everything. If a peer has no eldest son, the title and possessions that belong to it go to the next male heir, probably a brother or nephew.

There are a very few titles that can pass to a female if there is no direct heir, but they will revert to the male line when the lady bears a son. (Such as the monarchy.) Some titles can automatically pass through a female heir (when there is no male heir) and most can be revived by subsequent generations by petitioning to the Crown. But that's getting into more complicated areas. If your plot depends on something unusual, please do research it thoroughly before going ahead.

As Beverley said, this is a bit more complicated and requires further research if it's something you wish to incorporate into your work, especially if it's set in the 18th or 19th centuries. In the 20th century, this was more common. A clear example would be Lord Mountbatten (1st Earl Mountbatten of Burma), who had no sons, only two daughters. Therefore, he passed his title to his firstborn, Patricia Knatchbull (née Mountbatten). Thanks to this title, the Countess was entitled to a seat in the House of Lords, where she remained until 1999, when a House of Lords Act removed most hereditary peers from the chamber.

But returning to the main topic, the eldest son is called the heir apparent, as he is undoubtedly the heir. If there is no such son, the next in line is called the heir presumptive because, however improbable (such as the duke being on his deathbed), there remains a possibility of a closer heir being born. Therefore, an heir presumptive does not hold the title of heir, if there is one. (See below about heir's titles.)

If a peer dies leaving a wife but no son, the heir inherits unless the widow says she might be with child. It is for her to do that. If she stays silent, it is assumed that she is not. If she's pregnant, everything waits until the child is born.

These last two paragraphs can be perfectly illustrated by an example that many know. In 'When he was wicked', after the death of John Sterling, Earl of Kilmartin, Michael Sterling is not immediately named as the new Earl upon his cousin's death, as Francesca announces her pregnancy. But since she had a miscarriage, there was no longer a possible heir to the late Earl of Kilmartin, and therefore, the title is immediately inherited by Michael.

Continuing with the main topic, an heir must be legitimate at birth to inherit a title, though that could mean a marriage ceremony performed while the mother is in labor. A peer may raise bastards with devotion and/or marry the mother later, but a bastard child can never be his legal heir.

It's also crucial to mention that peers automatically had seats in the House of Lords. Note, however, that courtesy titles (those held by heirs) do not give seats, or any of the other privileges of the peerage.

Something else that is highly important to clarify, as confusion is quite common, is that most peers do not use their surnames as their title. Thus, the usual pattern would be something like Sebastian Burgoyne, Earl of Malzard. He is Lord Malzard NEVER Lord Burgoyne. (Or, for that matter, Lord Sebastian.) As an author, you might like variety, but take as a general rule is that no one ever had two forms of address.

THE RANKS OF THE PEERAGE

Duke.

Leaving aside royalty, this is the highest rank. His wife is the Duchess. They will be duke and duchess of something.

If we use the famous main couple from Bridgerton Season 1, the example would be: Duke and Duchess of Hastings. Address is "your grace", though familiars may address them just as Duke and Duchess. Like, "Fine weather for shooting, eh, Duke?" or may address the duke by title. "Care for more port, Hastings?"

The duke will also have a family name, that is, a surname, but he will not use it in the normal course of events. And something crucial that is also commonly confused, the duchess does not use the surname at all. Continuing with the same example, if Daphne Bridgerton marries the Duke of Hastings (whose surname is Basset), she will be the Duchess of Hastings and will informally sign as Daphne Hastings, NOT Daphne Basset.

The duke's eldest son is his heir and will have his father's second-best title as his courtesy title. Nearly all peers have a number of titles marking their climb up the ranks. The heir to a duke is often the next lowest ranking peer, a marquess, but the title could, however, be an earldom, or even a viscountcy. For example, the eldest son of Daphne and Simon, the Duke and Duchess of Hastings, holds the courtesy title that his father had when the Late Duke of Hastings was still alive: Earl of Clyvedon.

Important note, a courtesy title does not give the holder a seat in the House of Lords or other privileges of the peerage.

If the heir has a son before the heir becomes duke, that son will take the next lowest title as a courtesy title. If the heir dies before his father, his eldest son becomes the heir apparent and takes his father's title.

Apart from the heir, a duke's sons are given the courtesy title Lord with their Christian name. (Lord + firstname + surname). Continuing with the example of the Duke and Duchess of Hastings, assuming that like in the book, they also have David and Edward in the series, their courtesy titles would be: Lord David Basset and Lord Edward Basset. They are NEVER Lord Basset.

All duke's daughters are given the courtesy title (Lady + firstname + surname). And continuing with the same example, the daughters of the Duke and Duchess of Hastings, Belinda and Caroline, would be: Lady Belinda Basset and Lady Caroline Basset.

And also, if they marry a commoner, they retain the title. Let's say Lady Belinda marries Mr. Sticklethwait, she becomes Lady Belinda Sticklethwait. But if she marries a peer, she adopts his title. If Lady Belinda marries the Earl of Herrick, she becomes Countess of Herrick, Lady Herrick. And if she marries the holder of a courtesy title, then she may use his title or her birth title as she wishes.

I make this clarification because it's the most common mistake in these types of novels. Note that in all cases, titles like Lord or Lady with both first and surname (eg. Lady Anne Middleton) and Lord or Lady "last name" or "title" (Lady Middleton) are exclusive. No one can be both at the same time. Moreover, Lord or Lady "firstname" is a title conferred at birth. It cannot be gained later in life except when the father accedes to a title and thus raises his family.

So, Lady Mary Smith is not Lady Smith and vice versa. Lord John Brown in not Lord Brown and vice versa. If Mary Smith marries Lord Brown she becomes Lady Brown, NOT Lady Mary. (If she marries Lord John Brown, she becomes Lady John Brown. Yes, it may sound odd to modern ears, but the past is, as they say, a different country. That's the charm of historical fiction.)

Marquess.

This is the next rank. (As above, it can be spelled marquis or marquess, but in either case is pronounced markwess.)

Similar to the duke, he will be the Marquess of something, for example: He is Richard Byron, the Marquess of Salisbury, or Lord Salisbury, or simply Salisbury to his family. His wife is the Marchioness of Salisbury or Lady Salisbury. She would sign with her firstname and title, for example: Diana Salisbury, never Diana Byron.

His heir apparent takes his next highest title as a courtesy title (eg. Earl of Cranborne). All other sons have the title of Lord with their first and surname (eg. Lord Arthur Byron and Lord Albert Byron). All daughters have the title of Lady with their first and surname (eg. Lady Alexandra Byron and Lady Amelia Byron).

Earl.

He will nearly always be earl of something. His wife is the Countess. If we take another famous couple from Bridgerton, they would refer to him as "the Earl of Kilmartin" or "Lord Kilmartin," or simply "Kilmartin" among family. His wife will be the Countess of Kilmartin or Lady Kilmartin, and she will sign as Francesca Kilmartin. In the same way as with the wife of a duke or marquess, considering that the Earl of Kilmartin is named John Stirling, Francesca will NEVER be called Francesca Stirling. That's why in the series, when she introduces herself to Michaela, she says that her name is now Kilmartin and not Stirling.

It's important to mention that some Earls do not use 'of' like Earl Spencer, and in that case, the family surname is the same as the title (following the previous example, the surname would be Spencer), but this is quite unusual and I think it should be avoided in fiction unless it's a crucial plot point.

As with a duke, the earl's heir will take the next lowest title as a courtesy title, and the heir's son, the next again. Continuing with the example of the Kilmartins, it's not very clear what the courtesy title for John Sterling II (son of Francesca and Michael in the books) is, but if Michael Sterling is the Earl of Kilmartin and has a subsidiary title of Viscount, then their eldest son, John Sterling II, would use the courtesy title of Viscount Glenmore or Lord Glenmore. If there is no specific subsidiary title, then the eldest son would simply be known as Lord John Stirling.

All the daughters of an earl are given the courtesy title: Lady + their first name. Again, using the Kilmartins as an example: Lady Janet Stirling. Younger sons of an earl, however, are merely "the honorable" which is not used in casual speech. So, assuming in the books Michael and Francesca had another son, for example, Michael Stirling II, he would simply be The Honorable Michael Stirling, but in casual speech, he would simply be referred to as Mr. Michael Stirling or just Mr. Stirling.

Viscount.

His wife is a Viscountess. He will not use 'of'. He will be, for example, Viscount Bridgerton, usually known as Lord Bridgerton, or just Bridgerton. His wife will be known as Lady Bridgerton and will sign herself Kathani Bridgerton.

His heir has no special title. All children are known as "the honorable". Continuing with the example of the Viscount and Viscountess Bridgerton, their children would be called:

*The Honorable Edmund Bridgerton, and simply be referred to as Mr. Edmund Bridgerton.

*The Honorable Miles Bridgerton, and simply be referred to as Mr. Miles Bridgerton.

*The Honorable Charlotte Bridgerton, and simply be referred to as Miss Charlotte Bridgerton.

*The Honorable Mary Bridgerton, and simply be referred to as Miss Mary Bridgerton.

Baron.

This is the lowest rank in the peerage. His wife is a Baroness. NOTE that the terms baron and baroness are only used in the most formal documents, or when the distinction has to be made elsewhere. General usage is simply to call them Lord and Lady.

She will sign with her name and title. The children are known as "the honorable".

Using another character from Bridgerton, if we assume that Colin and Penelope Bridgerton's son is named Elliot, then Elliot Bridgerton, the new Lord Featherington, would sign as Lord Featherington and NEVER as Lord Bridgerton. Therefore, his wife would also sign with his title, that is, Featherington. For example, if the wife's name is Elizabeth, then she would be Lady Featherington and would sign as Elizabeth Featherington, and NEVER as Elizabeth Bridgerton or Lady Bridgerton.

Baronet.

The next in the ranking—and not of the nobility—is Baronet. A baronet is addressed as Sir + first name + surname. For example, using another couple from the Bridgerton universe, Sir Phillip Crane. His wife would be called Lady + surname. For example, Lady Crane and not Lady Eloise Crane unless she is the daughter of a duke, marquess, or earl (which is not the case). She would sign with her full name, as Eloise Crane.

His children have no special distinction. However, the title is inheritable. So, continuing to use Sir Phillip as a reference, when he dies, his baronetcy will pass to his eldest son Oliver, who will then be called Sir Oliver.

It's worth mention that although in the series Oliver is NOT Sir Phillip's biological son, he still married Marina before the birth of the twins and acknowledged them both as his own, so the baronetcy title will pass without any issue to Oliver. In the event that he did not acknowledge them as his children or that Sir Phillip and Marina married after the birth of the twins, then the title of Sir Phillip would pass to his next legitimate son, Frederick (son of Sir Phillip and Eloise in the books).

Knight.

A knight is essentially treated the same as a baronet, but with the difference that it is a lifetime title only. His wife will be Lady + surname.

OTHER MATTERS

Dowagers

When a titled lady is widowed she becomes a dowager, but the practice has generally been not to use that title until the heir takes a wife, since there can be confusion about who the true Lady Bridgerton is, for example.

And even if she has a daughter-in-law, in general usage she would still be referred to by the simple title unless there was likely to be confusion. So, if the Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton was at a house party while her daughter-in-law was in London, people would not be constantly referring to her as the Dowager Viscountess.

Female titles in their own right

There are a few, very few, titles that can pass to a daughter if there is no son, as in the Royal Family, for example. In this case, the usage is the same as if they were the wife of a peer of that rank, but their husband gains NO title from the marriage, just as the Duke of Edinburgh was not king.

A Peeress in her Own Right retains her title after marriage, and if her husband's rank is the superior one, she is designated by the two titles jointly, the inferior one last. Or she can say what form she wants to use. (eg The Marchioness of Rothgar is also the Countess of Arradale by right. She chooses to be Lady Rothgar and Arradale in the most formal situations, Lady Rothgar in general, but Lady Arradale in private, especially when attending to her duties as Countess of Arradale. Unusual situations do tend to get complicated.) Her hereditary claim to her title holds good in spite of any marriage, and will be passed on.

Since the husband gains no title from such a marriage, it's possible to have the Countess of Arbuthnot married to Mr. Smith.

Her eldest son will be her heir and take her next lowest title. If she has no son, her eldest daughter will be her heir, but until she becomes the peer she will hold only the title that comes from her birth — eg. Lady Anne — if any, because an eldest daughter is always an heir presumptive. There might still be a boy.

The most common errors observed in novels:

Interchanging courtesy titles like Lady Mary Smith and Lady Smith.

Interchanging peerage titles, as when Michael Downs, Earl of Rosebury is variously known as Lord Rosebury, Lord Downs, and Lord Michael Downs.

Applying titles that don't belong, as when Jane Potts marries Viscount Twistleton and erroneously becomes Lady Jane, a title form that can only come by birth.

Having the widow of just about anyone, but especially a peer, remarry before time has elapsed to be sure she is not bearing a child. Or rather, whose child it is that she bears!

Having the heir presumptive assume the title and powers before the widow has made it clear that she's not going to produce an heir.

Having an adopted son inherit a title. Legal adoption was not possible in England until the twentieth century, and even now an adopted son cannot inherit a title. Even if the son is clearly the father's offspring, if he wasn't born after a legal marriage, he cannot inherit the father's title. However, since they didn't have DNA testing, a child was assumed to be legitimate unless the father denied it from the first. Even if the son turns out to look suspiciously like the vicar, the father cannot deny him later. This, I assume was to avoid the chaos of peers coming up with all sorts of excuses to switch heirs on a whim.

Having a title left in a will, which follows from the above. A title cannot be willed to whomever the peer in question chooses. It goes according to the original letters patent, which almost always say that it will go to the oldest legitimate male in direct descent. The property can be left elsewhere, unless it is entailed, but the title goes by legitimate blood.

Having an heiress (ie a daughter without brothers) inherit a title and convey it to her husband. It could be done — anything could — by special decree of the Crown, but it was not at all normal.

Now, when you've arrived at the title you want to give your character, perform an internet search to see if it exists. You can also check The Peerage or do an advanced search on Google Books. You wouldn't want to give your fictional character a title that was already in use at that time. Additionally, some readers will be knowledgeable about the real nobility and it could disrupt the fictional reality you're trying to create.

If you really like the title but it already exists or existed, you can modify it while still retaining its appeal. For example, if Lord Amesbury exists, you could create Lord Aymesbury or Lord Embury. If your character's family has been in Suffolk for generations, names of places in Suffolk can provide ideas for names.

I hope this helps, although I'm sure it can be subject to debate and improvement.

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