The Duke and I (4 page)

 "Not having had one myself, I can't say I grasp your point."

 "Society mothers, you dolt. Those fire-breathing dragons with daughters of—God help us—marriageable age. You can run, but you'll never manage to hide from them. And I should warn you, my own is the worst of the lot."

 "Good God. And here I thought Africa was dangerous."

 Anthony shot his friend a faintly pitying look. "They will hunt you down. And when they find you, you will find yourself trapped in conversation with a pale young lady all dressed in white who cannot converse on topics other than the weather, who received vouchers to Almack's, and hair ribbons."

 A look of amusement crossed Simon's features. "I take it, then, that during my time abroad you have become something of an eligible gentleman?"

 "Not out of any aspirations to the role on my part, I assure you. If it were up to me, I'd avoid society functions like the plague. But my sister made her bow last year, and I'm forced to escort her from time to time."

 "Daphne, you mean?"

 Anthony looked up in surprise. "Did the two of you ever meet?"

 "No," Simon admitted, "but I remember her letters to you at school, and I recalled that she was fourth in the family, so she had to start with D, and—"

 "Ah, yes," Anthony said with a slight roll of his eyes, "the Bridgerton method of naming children. Guaranteed to make certain no one forgets who you are."

 Simon laughed. "It worked, didn't it?"

 "Say, Simon," Anthony suddenly said, leaning forward, "I've promised my mother I'll have dinner at Bridgerton House later this week with the family. Why don't you join me?"

 Simon raised a dark brow. "Didn't you just warn me about society mothers and debutante daughters?"

 Anthony laughed. "I'll put my mother on her best behavior, and don't worry about Daff. She's the exception that proves the rule. You'll like her immensely."

 Simon narrowed his eyes. Was Anthony playing matchmaker? He couldn't tell.

 As if Anthony were reading his thoughts, he laughed. "Good God, you don't think I'm trying to pair you off with Daphne, do you?"

 Simon said nothing.

 "You would never suit. You're a bit too brooding for her tastes."

 Simon thought that an odd comment, but instead chose to ask, "Has she had any offers, then?"

 "A few." Anthony kicked back the rest of his brandy, then let out a satisfied exhale. "I've allowed her to refuse them all."

 "That's rather indulgent of you."

 Anthony shrugged. "Love is probably too much to hope for in a marriage these days, but I don't see why she shouldn't be happy with her husband. We've had offers from one man old enough to be her father, another old enough to be her father's younger brother, one who was rather too high in the instep for our often boisterous clan, and then this week, dear God, that was the worst!"

 "What happened?" Simon asked curiously.

 Anthony gave his temples a weary rub. "This last one was perfectly amiable, but a rather bit dim in the head. You'd think, after our rakish days, I'd be completely without feelings—"

 "Really?" Simon asked with a devilish grin. "You'd think that?"

 Anthony scowled at him. "I didn't particularly enjoy breaking this poor fool's heart."

 "Er, wasn't Daphne the one to do that?"

 "Yes, but I had to
tell
him."

 "Not many brothers would allow their sister such latitude with their marriage proposals," Simon said quietly.

 Anthony just shrugged again, as if he couldn't imagine treating his sister in any other way. "She's been a good sister to me. It's the least I can do."

 "Even if it means escorting her to Almack's?" Simon said wickedly.

 Anthony groaned. "Even then."

 "I'd console you by pointing out that this will all be over soon, but you've what, three other sisters waiting in the wings?"

 Anthony positively slumped in his seat. "Eloise is due out in two years, and Francesca the year after that, but then I've a bit of a reprieve before Hyacinth comes of age."

 Simon chuckled. "I don't envy you your responsibilities in that quarter." But even as he said the words, he felt a strange

longing, and he wondered what it would be like to be not quite so alone in this world. He had no plans to start a family of his own, but maybe if he'd had one to begin with, his life would have turned out a bit differently.

 "So you'll come for supper, then?" Anthony stood. "Informal, of course. We never take meals formally when it's just family."

 Simon had a dozen things to do in the next few days, but before he could remind himself that he needed to get his affairs in order, he heard himself saying, "I'd be delighted."

 "Excellent. And I'll see you at the Danbury bash first?"

 Simon shuddered. "Not if I can help it. My aim is to be in and out in under thirty minutes."

 "You really think," Anthony said, raising a doubtful brow, "that you're going to be able to go to the party, pay your respects to Lady Danbury, and leave?"

 Simon's nod was forceful and direct.

 But Anthony's snort of laughter was not terribly reassuring.

 Chapter 2

 The new Duke of Hastings is a most interesting character. While it is common knowledge that he was not on favorable terms with his father, even This Author is 
unable
to
learn the reason for the estrangement
.

 Lady Whistledown's Society Papers ,26 April 1813

 Later that week, Daphne found herself standing on the fringes of Lady Danbury's ballroom, far away from the fashionable crowd. She was quite content with her position.

 Normally she would have enjoyed the festivities; she liked a good party as well as the next young lady, but earlier that

evening, Anthony had informed her that Nigel Berbrooke had sought him out two days earlier and asked for her hand.

Again. Anthony had, of course, refused (again!), but Daphne had the sinking feeling that Nigel was going to prove uncomfortably persistent. After all, two marriage proposals in two weeks did not paint a picture of a man who accepted

defeat easily.

 Across the ballroom she could see him looking this way and that, and she shrank further into the shadows.

 She had no idea how to deal with the poor man. He wasn't very bright, but he also wasn't unkind, and though she knew she had to somehow put an end to his infatuation, she was finding it far easier to take the coward's way out and simply avoid him.

 She was considering slinking into the ladies' retiring room when a familiar voice stopped her in her tracks.

 "I say, Daphne, what are you doing all the way over here?"

 Daphne looked up to see her eldest brother making his way toward her. "Anthony," she said, trying to decide if she was pleased to see him or annoyed that he might be coming over to meddle in her affairs. "I hadn't realized you would be in attendance."

 "Mother," he said grimly. No other words were necessary.

 "Ah," Daphne said with a sympathetic nod. "Say no more. I understand completely."

 "She made a list of potential brides." He shot his sister a beleaguered look. "We do love her, don't we?"

 Daphne choked on a laugh. "Yes, Anthony, we do."

 "It's temporary insanity," he grumbled. "It has to be. There is no other explanation. She was a perfectly reasonable mother until you reached marriageable age."

 "Me?" Daphne squeaked. "Then this is all my fault? You're a full eight years older than I am!"

 "Yes, but she wasn't gripped by this matrimonial fervor until you came along."

 Daphne snorted. "Forgive me if I lack sympathy. I received a list last year."

 "Did you?"

 "Of course. And lately she's been threatening to deliver them to me on a weekly basis. She badgers me on the issue of

marriage far more than you could ever imagine. After all, bachelors are a challenge. Spinsters are merely pathetic. And in case you hadn't noticed, I'm female."

 Anthony let out a low chuckle. "I'm your brother. I don't notice those things." He gave her a sly, sideways look. "Did you bring it?"

 "My list? Heavens, no. What can you be thinking?"

 His smile widened. "I brought mine."

 Daphne gasped. "You didn't!"

 "I did. Just to torture Mother. I'm going peruse it right in front of her, pull out my quizzing glass—"

 "You don't have a quizzing glass."

 He grinned—the slow, devastatingly wicked smile that all Bridgerton males seemed to possess. "I bought one just for this occasion."

 "Anthony, you absolutely cannot. She will
kill
you. And then, somehow, she'll find a way to blame
me.
"

 "I'm counting on it."

 Daphne swatted him in the shoulder, eliciting a loud enough grunt to cause a half dozen partygoers to send curious looks in their direction.

 "A solid punch," Anthony said, rubbing his arm.

 "A girl can't live long with four brothers without learning how to throw one." She crossed her arms. "Let me see your list."

 "After you just assaulted me?"

 Daphne rolled her brown eyes and cocked her head in a decidedly impatient gesture.

 "Oh, very well." He reached into his waistcoat, pulled out a folded slip of paper, and handed it to her. "Tell me what you think. I'm sure you'll have no end of cutting remarks."

 Daphne unfolded the paper and stared down at her mother's neat, elegant handwriting. The Viscountess Bridgerton had

listed the names of eight women. Eight very eligible, very wealthy young women. "Precisely what I expected," Daphne murmured.

 "Is it as dreadful as I think?"

 "Worse. Philipa Featherington is as dumb as a post."

 "And the rest of them?"

 Daphne looked up at him under raised brows. "You didn't really want to get married this year, anyway, did you?"

 Anthony winced. "And how was your list?"

 "Blessedly out-of-date, now. Three of the five married last season. Mother is still berating me for letting them slip through my fingers."

 The two Bridgertons let out identical sighs as they slumped against the wall. Violet Bridgerton was undeterred in her mission to marry off her children. Anthony, her eldest son, and Daphne, her eldest daughter, had borne the brunt of the pressure, although Daphne suspected that the viscountess might have cheerfully married off ten-year-old Hyacinth if she'd received a suitable offer.

 "Good God, you look a pair of sad sorts. What are you doing so far off in the corner?"

 Another instantly recognizable voice. "Benedict," Daphne said, glancing sideways at him without moving her head. "Don't tell me Mother managed to get you to attend tonight's festivities."

 He nodded grimly. "She has completely bypassed cajoling and moved on to guilt. Three times this week she has reminded me I may have to provide the next viscount, if Anthony here doesn't get busy."

 Anthony groaned.

 "I assume that explains your flight as well to the darkest corners of the ballroom?" Benedict continued. "Avoiding Mother?"

 "Actually," Anthony replied, "I saw Daff skulking in the corner and—"

 "Skulking?" Benedict said with mock horror.

 She shot them both an irritated scowl. "I came over to hide from Nigel Berbrooke," she explained. "I left Mother in the company of Lady Jersey, so she's not likely to pester me anytime soon, but Nigel—"

 "Is more monkey than man," Benedict quipped.

 "Well, I wouldn't have put it
that
way precisely," Daphne said, trying to be kind, "but he isn't terribly bright, and it's so much easier to stay out of his way than to hurt his feelings. Of course now that you lot have found me, I shan't be able to avoid him for long."

 Anthony voiced a simple, "Oh?"

 Daphne looked at her two older brothers, both an inch above six feet with broad shoulders and melting brown eyes. They each sported thick chestnut hair—much the same color as her own—and more to the point, they could not go anywhere in polite society without a small gaggle of twittering young ladies following them about.

 And where a gaggle of twittering young ladies went, Nigel Berbrooke was sure to follow.

 Already Daphne could see heads turning in their direction. Ambitious mamas were nudging their daughters and pointing to the two Bridgerton brothers, off by themselves with no company save for their sister.

 "I knew I should have made for the retiring room," Daphne muttered.

 "I say, what's that piece of paper in your hand, Daff?" Benedict inquired.

 Somewhat absentmindedly, she handed him the list of Anthony's supposed brides.

 At Benedict's loud chortle, Anthony crossed his arms, and said, "Try not to have too much fun at my expense. I predict

you'll be receiving a similar list next week."