“No, you’re right. I’m far too softhearted.” 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 supper goes 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.)
Thankfully, Violet had not noticed the flying pea, even though it sailed right over her head in a perfect arc.
But Daphne, who was sitting directly across from him, most certainly had, because her napkin flew up to cover her mouth with remarkable alacrity. Judging from the way her eyes were crinkling at the corners, she was definitely laughing under the square of linen.
Simon spoke little throughout the meal. Truth be told, it was far easier to listen to the Bridgertons than actually try to converse with them, especially considering the number of malevolent stares he was receiving from Anthony and Benedict.
But Simon had been seated clear at the opposite end of the table from the two eldest Bridgertons (no accident on Violet’s part, he was sure) so it was relatively simple to ignore them and instead enjoy Daphne’s interactions with the rest of her family. Every now and then one of them would ask him a direct question, and he would answer, and then he would return to his demeanor of quiet observation.
Finally, Hyacinth, who was seated to Daphne’s right, looked him straight in the eye, and said, “You don’t talk much, do you?”
Violet choked on her wine.
“The duke,” Daphne said to Hyacinth, “is being far more polite than we are, constantly jumping into the conversation and interrupting one another as if we’re afraid we might not be heard.”
“I’m not afraid I might not be heard,” Gregory said.
“I’m not afraid of that, either,” Violet commented dryly. “Gregory, eat your peas.”
“But Hyacinth—”
“Lady Bridgerton,” Simon said loudly, “may I trouble you for another helping of those delicious peas?”
“Why certainly.” Violet shot an arch look at Gregory. “Notice how the duke is eating his peas.”
Gregory ate his peas.
Simon smiled to himself as he spooned another portion of peas onto his plate, thankful that Lady Bridgerton had not decided to serve dinner à la russe. It would have been difficult to stave off Gregory’s certain accusation of Hyacinth as a pea-tosser if he’d had to summon a footman to serve him.
Simon busied himself with his peas, since he really had no choice but to finish off every last one. He stole a glance at Daphne, however, who was wearing a secret little smile. Her eyes were brimming with infectious good humor, and Simon soon felt the corners of his mouth turning up as well.
“Anthony, why are you scowling?” asked one of the other Bridgerton girls—Simon thought it might be Francesca, but it was hard to say. The two middle ones looked amazingly alike, right down to their light eyes, so like their mother’s.
“I’m not scowling,” Anthony snapped, but Simon, having been on the receiving end of those scowls for the better part of an hour, rather thought he was lying.
“You are, too,” either Francesca or Eloise said.
Anthony’s tone of reply was condescending in the extreme. “If you think I am going to say, ‘Am not,’ you are sadly mistaken.”
Daphne laughed into her napkin again.
Simon decided life was more amusing than it had been in ages.
“Do you know,” Violet suddenly announced, “that I think this might be one of the most pleasant evenings of the year. Even”—she sent a knowing glance down the table at Hyacinth—“if my youngest is tossing peas down the table.”
Simon looked up just as Hyacinth cried out, “How did you know?”
Violet shook her head as she rolled her eyes. “My dear children,” she said, “when will you learn that I know everything?”
Simon decided he had a great deal of respect for Violet Bridgerton.
But even still, she managed to completely confuse him with a question and a smile. “Tell me, your grace,” she said, “are you busy tomorrow?”
Despite her blond and blue-eyed coloring, she looked so like Daphne as she asked him this question that he was momentarily befuddled. Which had to be the only reason he didn’t bother to think before he stammered, “N-no. Not that I recall.”
“Excellent!” Violet exclaimed, beaming. “Then you must join us on our outing to Greenwich.”
“Greenwich?” Simon echoed.
“Yes, we’ve been planning a family outing for several weeks now. We thought we’d take a boat, then perhaps have a picnic on the shores of the Thames.” Violet smiled at him confidently. “You’ll come, won’t you?”
“Mother,” Daphne interjected, “I’m certain the duke has any number of commitments.”
Violet gave Daphne a look so frigid Simon was surprised that neither one of them turned to ice. “Nonsense,” Violet replied. “He just said himself that he wasn’t busy.” She turned back to Simon. “And we shall be visiting the Royal Observatory as well, so you needn’t worry that this will be a mindless jaunt. It’s not open to the public, of course, but my late husband was a great patron, so we are assured entry.”
Simon looked at Daphne. She just shrugged and apologized with her eyes.
He turned back to Violet. “I’d be delighted.”
Violet beamed and patted him on the arm.
And Simon had the sinking sensation that his fate had just been sealed.
Chapter 8
It has reached This Author’s ears that the entire Bridgerton family (plus one duke!) embarked upon a journey to Greenwich on Saturday.
It has also reached This Author’s ears that the aforementioned duke, along with a certain member of the Bridgerton family, returned to London very wet indeed.
LADYWHISTLEDOWN’SSOCIETYPAPERS, 3 May 1813
“If you apologize to me one more time,” Simon said, leaning his head back against his hands, “I may have to kill you.”
Daphne shot him an irritated look from her position in her deck chair on the small yacht her mother had commissioned to take the entire family—and the duke, of course—to Greenwich. “Pardon me,” she said, “if I am polite enough to apologize for my mother’s quite obvious manipulations. I thought that the purpose of our little charade was to shield you from the tender mercies of matchmaking mothers.”
Simon waved off her comment, as he settled deeper into his own chair. “It would only be a problem if I were not enjoying myself.”
Daphne’s chin lurched backward slightly in surprise. “Oh,” she said (stupidly, in her opinion). “That’s nice.”
He laughed. “I am inordinately fond of boat travel, even if it is just down to Greenwich, and besides, after spending so much time at sea, I rather fancy a visit to the Royal Observatory to see the Greenwich Meridian.” He cocked his head in her direction. “Do you know much about navigation and longitude?”
She shook her head. “Very little, I’m afraid. I must confess I’m not even certain what this meridian here at Greenwich is.”
“It’s the point from which all longitude is measured. It used to be that sailors and navigators measured longitudinal distance from their point of departure, but in the last century, the astronomer royal decided to make Greenwich the starting point.”
Daphne raised her brows. “That seems rather self-important of us, don’t you think, positioning ourselves at the center of the world?”
“Actually, it’s quite convenient to have a universal reference point when one is attempting to navigate the high seas.”
She still looked doubtful. “So everyone simply agreed on Greenwich? I find it difficult to believe that the French wouldn’t have insisted upon Paris, and the Pope, I’m sure, would have preferred Rome . . .”
“Well, it wasn’t an agreement, precisely,” he allowed with a laugh. “There was no official treaty, if that is what you mean. But the Royal Observatory publishes an excellent set of charts and tables each year—it’s called the Nautical Almanac. And a sailor would have to be insane to attempt to navigate the ocean without one on board. And since the Nautical Almanac measures longitude with Greenwich as zero . . . well, everyone else has adopted it as well.”
“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?”
Thatshe 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.”