by Julia Quinn
“You seem to know quite a bit about this.”
He shrugged. “If you spend enough time on a ship, you learn.”
“Well, I’m afraid it wasn’t the sort of thing one learned in the Bridgerton nursery.” She cocked her head to the side in a somewhat self-deprecating manner. “Most of my learning was restricted to what my governess knew.”
“Pity,” he murmured. Then he asked, “Only most?”
“If there was something that interested me, I could usually find several books to read on the topic in our library.”
“I would wager then, that your interests did not lie in abstract mathematics.”
Daphne laughed. “Like you, you mean? Hardly, I’m afraid. My mother always said that it was a wonder I could add high enough to put shoes on my feet.”
Simon winced.
“I know, I know,” she said, still smiling. “You sorts who excel at arithmetic simply don’t understand how we lesser mortals can look at a page of numbers and not know the answer—or at least how to get to the answer—instantly. Colin is the same way.”
He smiled, because she was exactly right. “What, then, were your favorite subjects?”
“Hmm? Oh, history and literature. Which was fortunate, since we had no end of books on those topics.”
He took another sip of his lemonade. “I’ve never had any great passion for history.”
“Really? Why not, do you think?”
Simon pondered that for a moment, wondering if perhaps his lack of enthusiasm for history was due to his distaste for his dukedom and all the tradition that wrapped around it. His father had been so passionate about the title . . .
But of course all he said was, “Don’t know, really. Just didn’t like it, I suppose.”
They fell into a few moments of companionable silence, the gentle river wind ruffling their hair. Then Daphne smiled, and said, “Well, I won’t apologize again, since I’m too fond of my life to sacrifice it needlessly at your hands, but I am glad that you’re not miserable after my mother browbeat you into accompanying us.”
The look he gave her was vaguely sardonic. “If I hadn’t wanted to join you, there is nothing your mother could have said that would have secured my presence.”
She snorted. “And this from a man who is feigning a courtship to me, of all people, all because he’s too polite to refuse invitations from his friends’ new wives.”
A rather irritable scowl immediately darkened his features. “What do you mean, you of all people?”
“Well, I . . .” She blinked in surprise. She had no idea what she meant. “I don’t know,” she finally said.
“Well, stop saying it,” he grumbled, then settled back into his chair.
Daphne’s eyes inexplicably focused on a wet spot on the railing as she fought to keep an absurd smile off her face. Simon was so sweet when he was grumpy.
“What are you looking at?” he asked.
Her lips twitched. “Nothing.”
“Then what are you smiling about?”
That she most certainly was not going to reveal. “I’m not smiling.”
“If you’re not smiling,” he muttered, “then you’re either about to suffer a seizure or sneeze.”
“Neither,” she said in a breezy voice. “Just enjoying the excellent weather.”
Simon was leaning his head against the back of the chair, so he just rolled it to the side so he could look at her. “And the company’s not that bad,” he teased.
Daphne shot a pointed look at Anthony, who was leaning against the rail on the opposite side of the deck, glowering at them both. “All of the company?” she asked.
“If you mean your belligerent brother,” Simon replied, “I’m actually finding his distress most amusing.”
Daphne fought a smile and didn’t win. “That’s not very kindhearted of you.”
“I never said I was kind. And look—” Simon tipped his head ever so slightly in Anthony’s direction. Anthony’s scowl had, unbelievably, turned even blacker. “He knows we’re talking about him. It’s killing him.”
“I thought you were friends.”
“We are friends. This is what friends do to one another.”
“Men are mad.”
“Generally speaking,” he agreed.
She rolled her eyes. “I thought the primary rule of friendship was that one was not supposed to dally with one’s friend’s sister.”
“Ah, but I’m not dallying. I’m merely pretending to dally.”
Daphne nodded thoughtfully and glanced at Anthony. “And it’s still killing him—even though he knows the truth of the matter.”
“I know.” Simon grinned. “Isn’t it brilliant?”
Just then Violet came sailing across the deck. “Children!” she called out. “Children! Oh, pardon me, your grace,” she added when she spied him. “It’s certainly not fair for me to lump you with my children.”
Simon just smiled and waved off her apology.
“The captain tells me we’re nearly there,” Violet explained. “We should gather up our things.”
Simon rose to his feet and extended a helpful hand to Daphne, who took it gratefully, wobbling as she stood.
“I haven’t my sea legs yet,” she laughed, clutching his arm to steady herself.
“And here we’re merely on the river,” he murmured.
“Beast. You’re not supposed to point out my lack of grace and balance.”
As she spoke, she turned her face toward his, and in that instant, with the wind catching her hair and painting her cheeks pink, she looked so enchantingly lovely that Simon nearly forgot to breathe.
Her lush mouth was caught somewhere between a laugh and a smile, and the sun glinted almost red on her hair. Here on the water, away from stuffy ballrooms, with the fresh air swirling about them, she looked natural and beautiful and just being in her presence made Simon want to grin like an idiot.
If they hadn’t been about to pull into dock, with her entire family running around them, he would have kissed her. He knew he couldn’t dally with her, and he knew he would never marry her, and still he found himself leaning toward her. He didn’t even realize what he was doing until he suddenly felt off-balance and lurched back upright.
Anthony, unfortunately, caught the entire episode, and he rather brusquely insinuated himself between Simon and Daphne, grasping her arm with far more strength than grace. “As your eldest brother,” he growled, “I believe it is my honor to escort you ashore.”
Simon just bowed and let Anthony have his way, too shaken and angered by his momentary loss of control to argue.
The boat settled next to the dock, and a gangplank was put into place. Simon watched as the entire Bridgerton family disembarked, then he brought up the rear, following them onto the grassy banks of the Thames.
At the top of the hill stood the Royal Observatory, a stately old building of rich red brick. Its towers were topped with gray domes, and Simon had the sense that he was, as Daphne had put it, at the very center of the world. Everything, he realized, was measured from this point.
After having crossed a good portion of the globe, the thought was rather humbling.
“Do we have everyone?” the viscountess called out. “Hold still, everyone, so I may be sure we are all present and accounted for.” She started counting heads, finally ending on herself with a triumphant, “Ten! Good, we’re all here.”
“Just be glad she doesn’t make us line up by age any longer.”
Simon looked to the left to see Colin grinning at him.
“As a method of keeping order, age worked when it still corresponded with height. But then Benedict gained an inch on Anthony, and then Gregory outgrew Francesca—” Colin shrugged. “Mother simply gave up.”
Simon scanned the crowd and lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I’m just trying to figure out where I’d fit in.”
“Somewhere near Anthony, if I had to hazard a guess,” Colin replied.
“God forbid,” Simon
muttered.
Colin glanced at him with a mix of amusement and curiosity.
“Anthony!” Violet called out. “Where’s Anthony?”
Anthony indicated his location with a rather ill-tempered grunt.
“Oh, there you are, Anthony. Come and escort me in.”
Anthony reluctantly let go of Daphne’s arm and walked to his mother’s side.
“She’s shameless, isn’t she?” Colin whispered.
Simon thought it best not to comment.
“Well, don’t disappoint her,” Colin said. “After all her machinations, the least you can do is go and take Daphne’s arm.”
Simon turned to Colin with a quirked eyebrow. “You might be just as bad as your mother.”
Colin just laughed. “Yes, except that at least I don’t pretend to be subtle.”
Daphne chose that moment to walk over. “I find myself without an escort,” she said.
“Imagine that,” Colin returned. “Now, if the two of you will excuse me, I’m off to find Hyacinth. If I’m forced to escort Eloise, I may have to swim back to London. She’s been a wretch ever since she attained the age of fourteen.”
Simon blinked in confusion. “Didn’t you just return from the Continent last week?”
Colin nodded. “Yes, but Eloise’s fourteenth birthday was a year and a half ago.”
Daphne swatted him on the elbow. “If you’re lucky, I won’t tell her you said that.”
Colin just rolled his eyes and disappeared into the small crowd, bellowing Hyacinth’s name.
Daphne laid her hand in the crook of Simon’s elbow as he offered her his arm, then asked, “Have we scared you off yet?”
“I beg your pardon?”
She offered him a rueful smile. “There is nothing quite as exhausting as a Bridgerton family outing.”
“Oh, that.” Simon stepped quickly to the right to avoid Gregory, who was racing after Hyacinth, yelling something about mud and revenge. “It’s, ah, a new experience.”
“Very politely put, your grace,” Daphne said admiringly. “I’m impressed.”
“Yes, well—” He jumped back as Hyacinth barreled by, squealing at such a pitch that Simon was certain that dogs would start howling from there to London. “I have no siblings, after all.”
Daphne let out a dreamy sigh. “No siblings,” she mused. “Right now it sounds like heaven.” The faraway look remained in her eyes for a few more seconds, then she straightened and shook off her reverie. “Be that as it may, however—” Her hand shot out just as Gregory ran past, catching the boy firmly by the upper arm. “Gregory Bridgerton,” she scolded, “you should know better than to run thus through a crowd. You’re liable to knock someone over.”
“How did you do that?” Simon asked.
“What, catch him?”
“Yes.”
She shrugged. “I have years of practice.”
“Daphne!” Gregory whined. His arm, after all, was still attached to her hand.
She let go. “Now, slow down.”
He took two exaggerated steps then broke into a trot.
“No scolding for Hyacinth?” Simon asked.
Daphne motioned over her shoulder. “It appears my mother has Hyacinth in hand.”
Simon saw that Violet was shaking her finger quite vehemently at Hyacinth. He turned back to Daphne. “What were you about to say before Gregory appeared on the scene?”
She blinked. “I have no idea.”
“I believe you were about to go into raptures at the thought of having no siblings.”
“Oh, of course.” She let out a little laugh as they followed the rest of the Bridgertons up the hill toward the observatory. “Actually, believe it or not, I was going to say that while the concept of eternal solitude is, at times, tempting, I think I would be quite lonely without family.”
Simon said nothing.
“I cannot imagine having only one child myself,” she added.
“Sometimes,” Simon said in a dry voice, “one has little choice in the matter.”
Daphne’s cheeks turned an immediate red. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she stammered, her feet absolutely refusing to take a step. “I’d forgotten. Your mother . . .”
Simon paused beside her. “I didn’t know her,” he said with a shrug. “I didn’t mourn her.”
But his blue eyes were strangely hollow and shuttered, and Daphne somehow knew that his words were false.
And at the same time, she knew that he believed them one hundred percent.
And she wondered—what could have happened to this man to make him lie to himself for so many years?
She studied his face, her head tilting slightly as she took in his features. The wind had brought color to his cheeks and ruffled his dark hair. He looked rather uncomfortable under her scrutiny, and finally he just grunted, and said, “We’re falling behind.”
Daphne looked up the hill. Her family was a good distance ahead of them. “Yes, of course,” she said, straightening her shoulders. “We should get going.”
But as she trudged up the hill, she wasn’t thinking of her family, or of the observatory, or even of longitude. Instead, she was wondering why she had the most bizarre urge to throw her arms around the duke and never let go.
Several hours later, they were all back on the grassy banks of the Thames, enjoying the last bites of an elegant yet simple luncheon that had been prepared by the Bridgertons’ cook. As he had the night before, Simon spoke little, instead observing the often boisterous interactions of Daphne’s family.
But Hyacinth apparently had other ideas.
“Good day, your grace,” she said, seating herself next to him on the blanket one of the footmen had laid out for their picnic. “Did you enjoy your tour of the observatory?”
Simon couldn’t quite suppress a smile as he answered, “Indeed I did, Miss Hyacinth. And you?”
“Oh, very much so. I especially appreciated your lecture on longitude and latitude.”
“Well, I don’t know that I’d call it a lecture,” Simon said, the word making him feel just the slightest bit old and stodgy.
Across the blanket, Daphne was grinning at his distress.
Hyacinth just smiled flirtatiously—flirtatiously?—and said, “Did you know that Greenwich also has a most romantic history?”
Daphne started to shake with laughter, the little traitor.
“Really?” Simon managed to get out.
“Indeed,” Hyacinth replied, using such cultured tones that Simon briefly wondered if there were actually a forty-year-old matron inside her ten-year-old body. “It was here that Sir Walter Raleigh laid his cloak upon the ground so that Queen Elizabeth would not have to dirty her slippers in a puddle.”
“Is that so?” Simon stood and scanned the area.
“Your grace!” Hyacinth’s face reverted to ten-year-old impatience as she jumped to her feet. “What are you doing?”
“Examining the terrain,” he replied. He cast a secret glance at Daphne. She was looking up at him with mirth and humor and something else that made him feel about ten feet tall.
“But what are you looking for?” Hyacinth persisted.
“Puddles.”
“Puddles?” Her face slowly transformed into one of utter delight as she grasped his meaning. “Puddles?”
“Indeed. If I’m going to have to ruin a cloak to save your slippers, Miss Hyacinth, I’d like to know about it in advance.”
“But you’re not wearing a cloak.”
“Heavens above,” Simon replied, in such a voice that Daphne burst into laughter below him. “You do not mean that I will be forced to remove my shirt?”
“No!” Hyacinth squealed. “You don’t have to remove anything! There aren’t any puddles.”
“Thank heavens,” Simon breathed, clasping one hand to his chest for added effect. He was having far more fun with this than he would have ever dreamed possible. “You Bridgerton ladies are very demanding, did you know that?”
Hyacinth
viewed him with a mixture of suspicion and glee. Suspicion finally won out. Her hands found their way to her little hips as she narrowed her eyes and asked, “Are you funning me?”
He smiled right at her. “What do you think?”
“I think you are.”
“I think I’m lucky there aren’t any puddles about.”
Hyacinth pondered that for a moment. “If you decide to marry my sister—” she said.
Daphne choked on a biscuit.
“—then you have my approval.”
Simon choked on air.
“But if you don’t,” Hyacinth continued, smiling shyly, “then I’d be much obliged if you’d wait for me.”
Luckily for Simon, who had little experience with young girls and not a clue how to respond, Gregory came dashing by and yanked on Hyacinth’s hair. She immediately took off after him, her eyes narrowed with the single-minded determination to get even.
“I never thought I’d say this,” Daphne said, laughter in her voice, “but I believe you have just been saved by my younger brother.”
“How old is your sister?” Simon asked.
“Ten, why?”
He shook his head in bewilderment. “Because for a moment, I could have sworn she was forty.”
Daphne smiled. “Sometimes she is so like my mother it’s frightening.”
At that moment, the woman in question stood and began to summon her children back to the boat. “Come along!” Violet called out. “It’s growing late!”
Simon looked at his pocket watch. “It’s three.”
Daphne shrugged as she rose to her feet. “To her that’s late. According to Mother, a lady should always be home at five o’clock.”
“Why?”
She reached down to pick up the blanket. “I have no idea. To get ready for the evening, I suppose. It’s one of those rules I’ve grown up with and deemed best not to question.” She straightened, holding the soft blue blanket to her chest, and smiled. “Are we ready to go?”
