The Duke and I (16 page)

 Daphne nodded again. "They are all men with whom I have enjoyed a previous friendship. It is only that theynever viewed me as a candidate for romance before Hastings led the way. I might, if given the opportunity, develop an attachment for one of them."

 "But—" Simon quickly shut his mouth.

 "But what?" Daphne asked, turning to him with curious eyes.                                                                 

 It occurred to him that what he wanted to say was that if those men had only noticed Daphne's charms because a duke had shown interest in her, then they were idiots, and thus she shouldn't even contemplate marrying them. But considering that
he
had been the one to originally point out that his interest would gain her more suitors—well, frankly, it seemed a bit self-defeating to mention it

 "Nothing," he finally said, raising a hand in a don't-mind-me motion. "It doesn't signify."

 Daphne looked at him for a few moments, as if waiting for him to change his mind, and then turned back to her brother. "Do you admit the wisdom of our plan, then?"

 "'Wisdom' might be a bit of a stretch, but"—Anthony looked pained to say it—"I can see where you might think it might benefit you."

 "Anthony, I have to find a husband. Besides the fact that Mother is pestering me to death, I
want
a husband. I want to marry and have a family of my own. I want it more than you could ever know. And thus far, no one acceptable has asked."

 Simon had no idea how Anthony could possibly hold out against the warm pleading in her dark eyes. And sure enough, Anthony sagged against the desk and let out a weary groan. "Very well," he said, closing his eyes as if he couldn't believe what he was saying, "I shall agree to this if I must."

 Daphne jumped up and threw her arms around him.

 "Oh, Anthony, I knew you were the very best of brothers." She gave him a kiss on the cheek. "You're just occasionally misguided."

 Anthony's eyes floated heavenward before focusing on Simon. "Do you see what I have to put up with?" he asked with shake of his head. His tone was that particular timbre used only from one beleaguered male to another.

 Simon chuckled to himself as he wondered when he'd turned from evil seducer back into good friend.

 "But," Anthony said loudly, causing Daphne to back up, "I am placing some conditions on this."

 Daphne didn't say anything, just blinked as she waited for her brother to continue.

 "First of all, this goes no further than this room."

 "Agreed," she said quickly.

 Anthony looked pointedly at Simon.

 "Of course," he replied.

 "Mother would be devastated if she learned the truth."

 "Actually," Simon murmured, "I rather think your mother would applaud our ingenuity, but since you have quite obviously known her longer, I bow to your discretion."

 Anthony shot him a frosty look. "Second, under no circumstances are the two of you to be alone together. Ever."

 "Well, that should be easy," Daphne said, "as we wouldn't be allowed to be alone if we were courting in truth, anyway."

 Simon recalled their brief interlude in the hall at Lady Danbury's house, and found it a pity that he wasn't to be allowed any more private time with Daphne, but he recognized a brick wall when he saw one, especially when said wall happened to be named Anthony Bridgerton. So he just nodded and murmured his assent.

 "Third—"

 "There is a
third?"
Daphne asked.            

 "There would be thirty if I could think of them," Anthony growled.

 "Very well," she acceded, looking most aggrieved. "If you must."

 For a split second Simon thought Anthony might strangle her.

 "What are you laughing about?" Anthony demanded.

 It was only then that Simon realized that he had snorted a laugh. "Nothing," he said quickly.

 "Good," Anthony grunted, "because the third condition is this: If I ever, even once, catch you in any behavior that compromises her... If I ever even catch you kissing her bloody hand without a chaperone, I shall tear your head off."

 Daphne blinked. "Don't you think that's a bit excessive?"

 Anthony leveled a hard stare in her direction. "No."

 "Oh."

 "Hastings?"

 Simon had no choice but to nod.

 "Good," Anthony replied gruffly. "And now that we're done with that, you"—he cocked his head rather abruptly toward Simon—"can leave."

 "Anthony!" Daphne exclaimed.

 "I assume this means I am disinvited for supper this evening?" Simon asked.

 "Yes."

 "No!" Daphne jabbed her brother in the arm. "Is Hastings invited for supper? Why did you not say something?"

 "It was days ago," Anthony grumbled. "Years."

 "It was Monday," Simon said.

 "Well, then you must join us," Daphne said firmly.

 "Mother will be so delighted. And you"—she poked her brother in the arm—"stop thinking about how you may poison him."

 Before Anthony could reply, Simon waved off her words with a chuckle. "Do not worry on my behalf, Daphne. You forget that I attended school with him for nearly a decade. He never did understand the principles of chemistry."

 "I shall kill him," Anthony said to himself. "Before the week is out, I shall kill him."

 "No you won't," Daphne said blithely. "By tomorrow you will have forgotten all of this and will be smoking cheroots at White's."

 "I don't think so," Anthony said ominously.

 "Of course you will. Don't you agree, Simon?"

 Simon studied his best friend's face and realized he was seeing something new. Something in his eyes. Something serious.

 Six years ago, when Simon had left England, he and Anthony had been boys. Oh, they'd thought they were men. They'd gambled and whored and strutted about society, consumed with their own importance, but now they were different.

 Now they were men in truth.

 Simon had felt the change within himself during his travels. It had been a slow transformation, wrought over time as he faced new challenges. But now he realized that he'd returned to England still picturing Anthony as that twenty-two-year-old boy he'd left behind.

 He'd done his friend a great disservice, he'd realized, in failing to realize that he, too, had grown up. Anthony had responsibilities Simon had never even dreamed of. He had brothers to guide, sisters to protect. Simon had a dukedom, but Anthony had
a family.
 

 There was a grave difference, and Simon found thathe couldn't fault his friend for his overprotective and indeed somewhat mulish behavior.

 "I think," Simon said slowly, finally answering Daphne's question, "that your brother and I are both different people than we were when we ran wild six years ago. And I think that might not be such a bad thing."

 *  *  *

 Several hours later, the Bridgerton household was in chaos.

 Daphne had changed into an evening dress of dark green velvet that someone had once said almost made her eyes look

not quite brown, and was presently idling about in the great hall, trying to find a way to calm her mother's racing nerves.

 "I cannot
believe,"
Violet said, one hand fluttering on her chest, "that Anthony forgot to tell me he invited the duke to

dinner. I had no time to prepare. None at all."

 Daphne eyed the menu in her hand, which began with turtle soup and marched through three more courses before finishing with lamb a la béchamel (followed, of course, by a choice of four desserts). She tried to keep her voice free of sarcasm as she said, "I do not think the duke will have cause to complain."

 "I pray that he won't," Violet replied. "But if I had known he was coming, I would have made sure we had a beef dish as well. One cannot entertain without a beef dish."

 "He knows this is an informal meal."

 Violet shot her an acerbic look. "No meal is informal when a duke is calling."

 Daphne regarded her mother thoughtfully. Violet was wringing her hands and gnashing her teeth. "Mother," Daphne said, "I don't think the duke is the sort toexpect us to dramatically alter our family supper plans on his behalf."

 "He might not expect it," Violet said, "but I do. Daphne, there are certain rules in society. Expectations. And frankly, I do not understand how you can be quite so calm and disinterested."

 "I'm not disinterested!"

 "You certainly don't look nervous." Violet eyed her suspiciously. "How can you not be nervous? For goodness sake,

Daphne, this man is thinking of marrying you."

 Daphne caught herself just before she groaned. "He has never said as much, Mother."

 "He didn't have to. Why else would he have danced with you last night? The only other lady he so honored was Penelope Featherington, and we both know that that had to be out of pity."

 "I
like
Penelope," Daphne said.

 "I like Penelope, too," Violet returned, "and I long for the day her mother realizes that a girl of her complexion cannot be dressed in tangerine satin, but that is beside the point."

 "What is the point?"

 "I don't know!" Violet very nearly wailed.

 Daphne shook her head. "I'm going to find Eloise."

 "Yes, do that," Violet said distractedly, "and make sure Gregory is clean. He never washes behind his ears. And Hyacinth—Good God, what are we to do about Hyacinth? Hastings will not expect a ten-year-old at the table."

 "Yes, he will," Daphne replied patiently. "Anthony told him we were dining as a family."

 "Most families do not allow their younger children to dine with them," Violet pointed out.

 "Then that is their problem." Daphne finally gave in to her exasperation and let out a loud sigh. "Mother, I spoke to the duke. He understands that this is not a formal meal. And he specifically told me that he was looking forward to a change of pace. He has no family himself, so he has never experienced anything like a Bridgerton family dinner."

 "God help us." Violet's face went utterly pale. "Now, Mother," Daphne said quickly, "I know what you're thinking, and I assure you that you don't have to worry about Gregory putting creamed potatoes on Francesca's chair again. I'm certain he has outgrown such childish behavior."

 "He did it last week!"

 "Well, then," Daphne said briskly, not missing a beat, "then I'm sure he's learned his lesson."

 The look Violet gave her daughter was dubious in the extreme.

 "Very well, then," Daphne said, her tone considerably less businesslike, "then I will simply threaten him with death if he does anything to upset you."

 "Death won't scare him," Violet mused, "but perhaps I can threaten to sell his horse."

 "He'll never believe you."

 "No, you're right. I'm far too soft-hearted." Violet frowned. "But he might believe me if I told him he would be forbidden to go on his daily ride."

 "That might work," Daphne agreed. "Good. I shall go off and scare some sense into him." Violet took two steps then turned around. "Having children is such a challenge."

 Daphne just smiled. She knew it was a challenge her mother adored.

 Violet cleared her throat softly, signaling a more serious turn of conversation. "I do hope this suppergoes well, Daphne. I think Hastings might be an excellent match for you."

 "'Might'?' Daphne teased. "I thought dukes were good matches even if they had-two heads and spit while they talked."

She laughed. "Out of both mouths!"

 Violet smiled benignly. "You might find this difficult to believe, Daphne, but I don't want to see you married off to just anyone. I may introduce you to no end of eligible men, but that is only because I would like you to have as many suitors as possible from which to choose a husband." Violet smiled wistfully. "It is my fondest dream to see you as happy as I was with your father."

 And then, before Daphne could reply, Violet disappeared down the hall.

 Leaving Daphne with second thoughts.

 Maybe this plan with Hastings wasn't such a good idea, after all. Violet was going to be crushed when they broke off their faux alliance. Simon had said that Daphne might be the one to do the jilting, but she was beginning to wonder if perhaps it wouldn't be better the other way around. It would be mortifying for Daphne to be thrown over by Simon, but at least that way she wouldn't have to endure Violet's bewildered chorus of "Why?"

 Violet was going to think she was insane for letting him get away.

 And Daphne would be left wondering if maybe her mother was right.

 Simon had not been prepared for supper with the Bridgertons. It was a loud, raucous affair, with plenty of laughter and thankfully, only one incident involving a flying pea.(It had looked as if the pea in question had originated at Hyacinth's end of the table, but the littlest Bridgerton had looked so innocent and angelic that Simon had difficulty believing she had actually aimed the legume at her brother.)