The Duke and I (20 page)

 "Meaning?"

 "Meaning that unlike most men, when he says he will never marry, he means it."

 "I see."

 Anthony let out a long, tired breath, and Daphne noticed tiny lines of concern around his eyes that she'd never seen before. "Choose a man from your new crowd of suitors," he said, "and forget Hastings. He's a good man, but he's not for you."

 Daphne latched on to the first part of his sentence. "But you think he's a good—"

 "He's not for you," Anthony repeated.

 But Daphne couldn't help thinking that maybe, just maybe, Anthony might be wrong.

 Chapter 9

 The Duke of Hastings was espied yet again with Miss Bridgerton. (That is Miss Daphne Bridgerton, for those of you who, like This Author, find it difficult to differentiate between the multitudes of Bridgerton offspring.) It has been some time since This Author has seen a couple so obviously devoted to one another .

 It does seem odd, however, that, with the exception of the Bridgerton family outing to Greenwich, which was reported in this newspaper ten days earlier, they are seen together only at evening functions. This Author has it

 on the best authority that while the duke called upon Miss Bridgerton at her home a fortnight ago, this courtesy has not been repeated, and indeed, they have not been seen riding together in Hyde Park even once !

 Lady Whistledown's Society Papers, 14 May 1813

 Two weeks later, Daphne found herself in Hampstead Heath, standing on the fringes of Lady Trowbridge's ballroom, far away from the fashionable crowd. She was quite content with her position.

 She didn't want to be at the center of the party. She didn't want to be found by the dozens of suitors now clamoring to

claim her in a dance. In all truth, she didn't want to be in Lady Trowbridge's ballroom at all.

 Because Simon was not there.

 This did not mean that she was destined to spend the evening as a wallflower. All of Simon's predictions in regard to her burgeoning popularity had proven correct, and Daphne, who had always been the girl everyone liked but no one adored, was suddenly proclaimed the season's Incomparable. Everyone who cared to air an opinion on the subject (and this being the
ton,
that meant everyone) declared that they always knew that Daphne was special and were just waiting for everyone else to notice. Lady Jersey told everyone who would listen that she had been predicting Daphne's success for months, and the only mystery was why no one had listened to her sooner.

 Which was, of course, hogwash. While Daphne had certainly never been the object of Lady Jersey's scorn, not one

Bridgerton could recall ever hearing Lady Jersey refer to her (as she was presently doing) as 'Tomorrow's Treasure."

 But even though Daphne's dance card was now full within minutes of her arrival at any ball, and even though men fought for the privilege of fetching her a glass of lemonade (Daphne had almost laughed out loud the first time
that
had happened), she found that no evening was truly memorable unless Simon was at her side.

 It didn't matter that he seemed to find it necessary to mention at least once every evening that he was adamantly opposed to the institution of marriage. (Although, to his credit, he usually mentioned this in conjunction with his thankfulness to Daphne for saving him from the multitudes of Ambitious Mamas.) And it didn't matter that he occasionally fell silent and was even almost rude to certain members of society.All that seemed to matter were those moments when they were not quite alone (they were never alone), but still somehow left to their own devices. A laughing conversation in a corner, a waltz around a ballroom. Daphne could look into his pale blue eyes and almost forget that she was surrounded by five hundred onlookers, all of whom were inordinately interested in the state of her courtship.

 And she could almost forget that her courtship was a complete sham.

 Daphne hadn't tried to talk to Anthony about Simon again. Her brother's hostility was apparent every time the duke's name was brought up in conversation. And when he and Simon actually met—well, Anthony usually managed a certain level of cordiality, but that was all he seemed able to muster.

 And yet even amidst all this anger, Daphne could see faint glimmers of the old friendship between them. She could only hope that when all this was over—and she was married off to some boring but affable earl who never quite managed to make her heart sing—that the two men would be friends again.

 At Anthony's somewhat forceful request, Simon had elected not to attend every social event to which Violet and Daphne had RSVP'ed in the affirmative. Anthony said that the only reason he had agreed to this ridiculous scheme was so that Daphne might find a husband among all her new suitors. Unfortunately, in Anthony's opinion (and fortunately in Daphne's) none of these eager young gentlemen dared to approach her in Simon's presence.

 "A fat lot of good this is doing," were Anthony's exact words.

 Actually, those exact words had been appended a fair amount of cursing and invective, but Daphne had seen no reason

to dwell on this. Ever since the incident at—or rather
in
—the Thames, Anthony had spent a greatdeal of time applying

expletives to Simon's name.

 But Simon had seen Anthony's point, and Simon had told Daphne that he wanted her to find a suitable husband.

 And so Simon stayed away.

 And Daphne was miserable.

 She supposed she should have known that this was going to happen. She should have realized the dangers of being courted—even falsely—by the man society had recently dubbed The Devastating Duke.

 The moniker had begun when Philipa Featherington had pronounced him "devastatingly handsome," and since Philipa didn't know the meaning of the word "whisper," all the
ton
bore witness to her statement Within minutes some droll young buck just down from Oxford had shortened and alliterated, and The Devastating Duke was born.

 Daphne found the name woefully ironic. For The Devastating Duke was devastating her heart.

 Not that he meant to. Simon treated her with nothing but respect and honor and good humor. Even Anthony was forced

to admit that he'd been given no cause to complain in that quarter. Simon never tried to get Daphne alone, never did

anything more than kiss her gloved hand (and much to Daphne's dismay, that had only happened twice).

 They had become the best of companions, their conversations ranging from comfortable silences to the wittiest of repartee. At every party, they danced together twice—the maximum permitted without scandalizing society.

 And Daphne knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she was falling in love.

 The irony was exquisite. She had, of course, begun spending so much time in Simon's companyspecifically so that she

might attract other men. For his part, Simon had begun spending time in
her
company so that he might avoid marriage.

 Come to think of it, Daphne thought, sagging against the wall, the irony was exquisitely painful.

 Although Simon was still quite vocal on the subject of marriage and his determination never to enter that blessed state, she did on occasion catch him looking at her in ways that made her think he might desire her. He never repeated any of the risqué comments he'd made before he'd learned she was a Bridgerton, but sometimes she caught him looking at her in the same hungry, feral way he'd done that first evening. He turned away, of course, as soon as she noticed, but it was always enough to set her skin tingling and shorten her breath with desire.

 And his eyes! Everyone likened their color to ice, and when Daphne watched him converse with other members of society, she could see why. Simon wasn't as loquacious with others as he was with her. His words were more clipped, his tone more brusque, and his eyes echoed the hardness in his demeanor.

 But when they were laughing together, just the two of them poking fun at some silly society rule, his eyes changed. They grew softer, gentler, more at ease. In her more fanciful moments, she almost thought they looked as if they were melting.

 She sighed, leaning even more heavily against the wall. It seemed her fanciful moments were coming closer and closer

together these days.

 "Ho, there, Daff, why are you skulking in the corner?"

 Daphne looked up to see Colin approaching, his usual cocky smile firmly in place on his handsome face. Since his return to London, he had taken the town by storm, and Daphne could easily name a dozen young ladies who were
positive
they were in love with him and
desperate
for his attention. She wasn't worried about her brother's returning any of their affections, however; Colin obviously had many more wild oats to sow before he settled down.

 "I'm not skulking," she corrected. "I'm avoiding."

 "Avoiding whom? Hastings?"

 "No, of course not. He's not here tonight, anyway."

 "Yes, he is."

 Since this was Colin, whose primary purpose in life (after chasing loose women and betting on horses, of course) was to torment his sister, Daphne meant to act blasé, but still she lurched to attention as she asked, "He is?"

 Colin nodded slyly and motioned with his head toward the ballroom entrance. "I saw him enter not fifteen minutes ago."

 Daphne narrowed her eyes. "Are you bamming me? He told me quite specifically that he wasn't planning to attend tonight."

 "And you still came?" Colin laid both his hands on his cheeks and faked surprise.

 "Of course I did," she retorted. "My life does not revolve around Hastings."

 "Doesn't it?"

 Daphne had the sinking feeling that he was not being facetious. "No, it doesn't," she replied, lying through her teeth. Her life might not revolve around Simon, but her thoughts certainly did.

 Colin's emerald eyes grew uncharacteristically serious. "You've got it bad, don't you?"

 "I have no idea what you mean."

 He smiled knowingly. "You will."

 "Colin!"

 "In the meantime"—he motioned back toward the ballroom's entrance—"why don't you go and locate him? Clearly

my scintillating company pales in comparison. I can see that your feet are already inching away from me."

 Horrified that her body would betray her in such a way, Daphne looked down.

 "Ha! Made you look."

 "Colin Bridgerton," Daphne ground out, "sometimes I swear I think you're no more than three years old."

 "An interesting concept," he mused, "and one that would place you at the tender age of one and a half, little sister."

 Lacking a suitably cutting retort, Daphne just fixed upon him her blackest scowl.

 But Colin only laughed. "An attractive expression to be sure, sis, but one you might want to remove from your cheeks.

His Devastatingness is heading this way."

 Daphne refused to fall for his bait this time. He wasn't going to Make Her Look.

 Colin leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, "This time I'm not kidding, Daff."

 Daphne held her scowl.

 Colin chuckled.

 "Daphne!" Simon's voice. Right at her ear.

 She whirled around.

 Colin's chuckles grew more heartfelt. "You really ought to have more faith in your favorite brother, dear sis."

 "He'syour favorite brother?" Simon asked, one dark brow raised in disbelief.

 "Only because Gregory put a toad in my bed last night," Daphne bit off, "and Benedict's standing has never recovered from the time he beheaded my favorite doll."

 "Makes me wonder what Anthony's done to deny him even an honorable mention," Colin murmured.

 "Don't you have somewhere else to be?" Daphne asked pointedly.

 Colin shrugged. "Not really."

 "Didn't," she asked through clenched teeth, "you just tell me you promised a dance to Prudence Featherington?"

 "Gads, no. You must have misheard."

 "Perhaps Mother is looking for you, then. In fact, I'm certain I hear her calling your name."

 Colin grinned at her discomfort. "You're not supposed to be so obvious," he said in a stage whisper, purposely loud enough for Simon to hear. "He'll figure out that you like him."

 Simon's entire body jerked with barely contained mirth.

 "It's not his company I'm trying to secure," Daphne said acidly. "It's yours I'm trying to avoid."

 Colin clapped a hand over his heart. "You wound me, Daff." He turned to Simon. "Oh, how she wounds me."

 "You missed your calling, Bridgerton," Simon said genially. "You should have been on the stage."

 "An interesting idea," Colin replied, "but one that would surely give my mother the vapors." His eyes lit up. "Now that's an idea. And just when the party was growing tedious. Good eve to you both." He executed a smart bow and walked off.

 Daphne and Simon remained silent as they watched Colin disappear into the crowd. "The next shriek you hear," Daphne said blandly, "will surely be my mother's."