"And if you say
that's because you lot barged into her home like a herd of mentally deficient
sheep, I'm disowning all three of you."
"Where is he? Bridgerton!" he bellowed.
Three chestnut heads swiveled in his direction. Simon stomped across the grass, murder in his eyes.
"I meant the idiot Bridgerton."
"That, I believe," Anthony said mildly, tilting his chin toward Colin, "would refer to you."
His mouth captured hers, trying to show her with his kiss what he was still learning to express in words. He loved her. He worshiped her. He'd walk across fire for her. He still had the audience of her three brothers.
Slowly breaking the kiss, he turned his face to the side. Anthony, Benedict, and Colin were still standing in the foyer. Anthony was studying the ceiling, Benedict was pretending to inspect his fingernails, and Colin was staring quite shamelessly. 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."
Anthony sneezed and pushed them aside. "Mother, I am trying to have a conversation with the duke."
Violet looked at Simon. "Do you want to have this conversation with my son?"
"Not particularly."
"Fine, then. Anthony, be quiet."
There were rules among friends, commandments, really, and the most important one was Thou Shalt Not Lust After Thy Friend's Sister.
She wandered over to the enclosed range, a rather modern-looking contraption that Cook had purchased earlier in the year. "Do you know how to work this?" she asked .
"No idea. You? "
Daphne shook her head. "None." She reached forward and gingerly touched the surface of the stove top. "It's not hot. "
"Not even a little bit? "
She shook her head. "It's rather cold, actually. "
Brother and sister were silent for a few seconds .
"You know," Anthony finally said, "cold milk might be quite refreshing ."
"I was just thinking that very thing!"
The look Anthony shot at his sister was so comically malevolent Simon nearly laughed. He managed to restrain himself, but mostly just because he was fairly certain that any show of humor would cause Anthony's fist to lose its battle with his brain, with Simon's face emerging as the conflict's primary casualty.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a married man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of an heir.
"Daphne Bridgerton, I don't -'
"like my tone, I know." Daphne grinned. "But you love me."
Violet smiled warmly and wrapped an arm around Daphne's shoulder. "Heaven help me, I do."
Daphne gave her mother a quick peck on the cheek. "It's the curse of motherhood. You're required to love us even when we vex you."
Violet just sighed. "I hope that someday you have children-'
"Just like me, I know." Daphne smiled nostalgically and rested her head on her mother's shoulder. Her mother could be overly inquisitive, and her father had been more interested in hounds and hunting than he'd been in society affairs, but theirs had been a warm marriage, filled with love, laughter, and children. "I could do a great deal worse than follow your example, Mother," she murmured.
Colin's chuckles grew more heartfelt. "You really ought to have more faith in your favorite brother, dear sis."
"He's your 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," he said with controlled gentleness, "What is wrong?"
She sat down opposite him and placed a hand on his cheek. "I'm so insensitive," she whispered. "I should have known. I should never have said anything."
"Should have known what?" he ground out.
Her hand fell away. "That you can't - that you couldn't"
"Can't what?"
She looked down at her lap, where her hands were attempting to wring each other to shreds. "Please don't make me say it," she said.
"This," Simon muttered, "has got to be why men avoid marriage."
Heartache, Daphne eventually learned, never really went away; it just dulled. The sharp, stabbing pain that one felt with each breath eventually gave way to a blunter, lower ache - the kind that one could almost, but never quite, ignore.
"Where is he? Bridgerton!" he bellowed.
Three chestnut heads swiveled in his direction. Simon stomped across the grass, murder in his eyes.
"I meant the idiot Bridgerton."
"That, I believe," Anthony said mildly, tilting his chin toward Colin, "would refer to you."
His mouth captured hers, trying to show her with his kiss what he was still learning to express in words. He loved her. He worshiped her. He'd walk across fire for her. He still had the audience of her three brothers.
Slowly breaking the kiss, he turned his face to the side. Anthony, Benedict, and Colin were still standing in the foyer. Anthony was studying the ceiling, Benedict was pretending to inspect his fingernails, and Colin was staring quite shamelessly. 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."
Anthony sneezed and pushed them aside. "Mother, I am trying to have a conversation with the duke."
Violet looked at Simon. "Do you want to have this conversation with my son?"
"Not particularly."
"Fine, then. Anthony, be quiet."
There were rules among friends, commandments, really, and the most important one was Thou Shalt Not Lust After Thy Friend's Sister.
She wandered over to the enclosed range, a rather modern-looking contraption that Cook had purchased earlier in the year. "Do you know how to work this?" she asked .
"No idea. You? "
Daphne shook her head. "None." She reached forward and gingerly touched the surface of the stove top. "It's not hot. "
"Not even a little bit? "
She shook her head. "It's rather cold, actually. "
Brother and sister were silent for a few seconds .
"You know," Anthony finally said, "cold milk might be quite refreshing ."
"I was just thinking that very thing!"
The look Anthony shot at his sister was so comically malevolent Simon nearly laughed. He managed to restrain himself, but mostly just because he was fairly certain that any show of humor would cause Anthony's fist to lose its battle with his brain, with Simon's face emerging as the conflict's primary casualty.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a married man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of an heir.
"Daphne Bridgerton, I don't -'
"like my tone, I know." Daphne grinned. "But you love me."
Violet smiled warmly and wrapped an arm around Daphne's shoulder. "Heaven help me, I do."
Daphne gave her mother a quick peck on the cheek. "It's the curse of motherhood. You're required to love us even when we vex you."
Violet just sighed. "I hope that someday you have children-'
"Just like me, I know." Daphne smiled nostalgically and rested her head on her mother's shoulder. Her mother could be overly inquisitive, and her father had been more interested in hounds and hunting than he'd been in society affairs, but theirs had been a warm marriage, filled with love, laughter, and children. "I could do a great deal worse than follow your example, Mother," she murmured.
Colin's chuckles grew more heartfelt. "You really ought to have more faith in your favorite brother, dear sis."
"He's your 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," he said with controlled gentleness, "What is wrong?"
She sat down opposite him and placed a hand on his cheek. "I'm so insensitive," she whispered. "I should have known. I should never have said anything."
"Should have known what?" he ground out.
Her hand fell away. "That you can't - that you couldn't"
"Can't what?"
She looked down at her lap, where her hands were attempting to wring each other to shreds. "Please don't make me say it," she said.
"This," Simon muttered, "has got to be why men avoid marriage."
Heartache, Daphne eventually learned, never really went away; it just dulled. The sharp, stabbing pain that one felt with each breath eventually gave way to a blunter, lower ache - the kind that one could almost, but never quite, ignore.
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