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The duke, although lean, was powerfully built, with broad shoulders and firmly muscled thighs. Daphne knew she wasn't supposed to notice such things, but, really, was it her fault that current fashions dictated such snug breeches? More to the point, he had a certain air about him, something almost predatory, something that hinted of tightly controlled strength and power.

Daphne decided she had no doubt that he'd be able to move Nigel. It's very kind of you to help me in this way. I couldn't possibly think of anything else to call it. But then again, I've learned that men—" "You do seem to be the expert on men," he said, somewhat acerbically, then grunted as he hauled Nigel to his feet.

Nigel promptly reached for Daphne, practically sobbing her name. Simon had to brace his legs to keep him from lunging at her. Daphne darted back a step. A better education I cannot imagine. He threw himself onto Daphne, making incoherent, drunken noises all the way. If Daphne hadn't had her back to the wall, she would have been knocked to the ground. As it was, she hit the wall with a bone-jarring thud, knocking all the breath from her body.

He hauled Nigel off Daphne, then turned to her, and asked, "Can I hit him? She'd tried to be kind and generous toward her erstwhile suitor, but really, enough was enough. The duke muttered something that sounded like "good" and landed a stunningly powerful blow on Nigel's chin. Nigel went down like a stone. Daphne regarded the man on the floor with equanimity. I'd rather not have to drag him out until I've a carriage waiting. His head tilted this way and that as he analyzed Nigel's position on the floor.

I was merely going to point out that men, in my experiences—" "You have too much experience," the duke muttered under his breath. Her powers of speech tended to fail her when she was angry. And she was really angry. Simon shrugged, apparently unmoved by her furious visage. Simon crossed his arms and leaned lazily against the wall. Forget me. Forget this entire evening.

I'm leaving. He had her there. She turned slowly around. Simon smiled to himself. She was such an easy mark. You will go around to the other side and shore him up. But she didn't voice a single complaint. After all, for all his annoying ways, the Duke of Hastings was helping her out of a possibly embarrassing scandal.

Of course if anyone found her in this position, she'd find herself in even worse straits. She hated that men thought that women were fickle, changeable creatures, and she hated even more that she was living up to that image right then. The sudden weight of him nearly took Daphne down to the floor as well. She let out a surprised squeal as she ducked out of the way. She nodded hesitantly, glancing down at Nigel. Just stared at her. She gave her head a nervous shake, then a nod, then went back to the shake.

There, now I'm done. And just managed to catch sight of the duke as he walked away, muttering something about Daphne and something about women in general and something else entirely that Daphne didn't quite catch. But maybe that was for the best. She rather doubted it had been a compliment. Chapter 4 London is awash these days with Ambitious Mamas. At Lady Worth's ball last week This Author saw no fewer than eleven Determined Bachelors, cowering in comers and eventually fleeing the premises with those Ambitious Mamas hot on their heels.

It is difficult to determine who, precisely, is the worst of the lot, although This Author suspects the contest may come down to a near draw between Lady Bridgerton and Mrs.

Featherington, with Mrs. F edging Lady B out by a nose. There are three Featherington misses on the market right now, after all, whereas Lady Bridgerton need only worry about one. It is recommended, however, that all safety-minded people stay far, far away from the latest crop of unmarried men when Bridgerton daughters E, F, and H come of age.

Lady B is not likely to look both ways when she barrels across a ballroom with three daughters in tow, and the Lord help us all should she decide to don metal-toed boots. He wouldn't have believed it at the time, but his bizarre encounter with Daphne Bridgerton was definitely turning out to be the evening's high point. Yes, he'd been horrified to discover that he'd been lusting—even briefly— after his best friend's younger sister.

Yes, Nigel Berbrooke's oafish attempts at seduction had offended every one of his rakish sensibilities. And yes, Daphne had finally exasperated him beyond endurance with her indecision over whether to treat Nigel like a criminal or care for him as she would her dearest friend.

But none of that—not one bit—compared to the torture that he'd been about to endure. His oh-so-clever plan of slipping into the ballroom, giving his regards to Lady Danbury, and leaving unnoticed had fallen into instant ruin. He'd taken no more than two steps into the ballroom when he'd been recognized by an old friend from Oxford, who, much to Simon's dismay, had recently married.

The wife was a perfectly charming young woman, but unfortunately one with rather high social aspirations, and she had quickly determined that her road to happiness lay in her position as the one to introduce the new duke to society. And Simon, even though he fancied himself a world-weary, cynical sort, discovered that he wasn't quite rude enough to directly insult the wife of his old university friend. And so, two hours later, he'd been introduced to every unmarried lady at the ball, every mother of every unmarried lady at the ball, and, of course, every older married sister of every unmarried lady at the ball.

Simon couldn't decide which set of women was the worst. The unmarried ladies were decidedly boring, the mothers were annoyingly ambitious, and the sisters— well, the sisters were so forward Simon began to wonder if he'd stumbled into a brothel. In retrospect, Daphne Bridgerton was starting to look very good, indeed. And speaking of Daphne, where the hell was she?

He'd thought he'd caught a glimpse of her about an hour earlier, surrounded by her rather large and forbidding brothers. Not that Simon found them individually forbidding, but he'd quickly decided that any man would have to be an imbecile to provoke them as a group.

But since then she seemed to have disappeared. Indeed, he thought she might have been the only unmarried female at the party to whom he hadn't been introduced. Simon wasn't particularly worried about her being bothered by Berbrooke after he'd left them in the hall. He'd delivered a solid punch to the man's jaw and had no doubt that he'd be out for several minutes. Probably longer, considering the vast quantities of alcohol Berbrooke had consumed earlier in the evening.

And even if Daphne had been foolishly tender-hearted when it came to her clumsy suitor, she wasn't stupid enough to remain in the hallway with him until he woke up.

Simon glanced back over to the corner where the Bridgerton brothers were gathered, looking as if they were having a grand old time. They had been accosted by almost as many young women and old mothers as Simon, but at least there seemed to be some safety in numbers.

Simon noticed that the young debutantes, didn't seem to spend half as much time in the Bridgertons' company as they did in his. Simon sent an irritated scowl in their direction. Anthony, who was leaning lazily against a wall, caught the expression and smirked, raising a glass of red wine in his direction.

Then he cocked his head slightly, motioning to Simon's left. Simon turned, just in time to be detained by yet another mother, this one with a trio of daughters, all of whom were dressed in monstrously fussy frocks, replete with tucks and flounces, and of course, heaps and heaps of lace.

He thought of Daphne, with her simple sage green gown. Daphne, with her direct brown eyes and wide smile The lace- covered family had managed to surround him with such efficiency that he wasn't even able to shoot a glare in Anthony's direction.

Words were quite beyond him. The family of females had pressed in so close he feared he might suffocate. He must have been a marvelous father. My goodness. Damn it, where was Anthony? It was bad enough having these women acting as if he were some prize horse to be bred, but to have to stand here and listen to this woman tell him what a good father the old duke had been Simon couldn't possibly bear it.

Your grace! After all, she was probably only complimenting his father because she thought it was what he wanted to hear. Two were pleasant-looking, but the third was still cloaked in baby fat and an orangey gown which did nothing for her complexion. She didn't appear to be enjoying the evening. And so even-tempered. But she's a mere ten years of age, so I do not bring her to such events.

I am Mrs. Featherington, of course. My husband passed on three years ago, but he was your papa's, er, dearest friend. Featherington said, with forced brightness. Simon noted the oldest girl's pained expression and quickly decided never to attend a musicale chez Featherington. Featherington shot a panicked look at her youngest daughter, who looked quite miserable. Penelope was not terribly attractive, and her somewhat pudgy figure was not improved by her mother's choice of attire for her.

But she seemed to have kind eyes. Featherington echoed, her voice a touch shrill. Penelope looked as if she wanted to dive under a rug. Simon decided that if he was forced to dance, he'd ask Penelope. Featherington," came a sharp and imperious voice that could only belong to Lady Danbury, "are you pestering the duke? Featherington, who had gone quite green. Featherington said nothing.

Lady Danbury said nothing. Featherington finally mumbled something about seeing her cousin, grabbed her three daughters, and scurried off. Simon crossed his arms, but he wasn't able to keep his face completely free of amusement.

She's feathers for brains, and so do her girls, except maybe that unattractive young one. And what fun would that be? Simon could tell she didn't want to, but she smiled. One would have thought you'd possess the manners to greet your hostess by now. Simon said nothing, not entirely certain how to interpret her words.

He'd always had the suspicion that she knew his secret, but he'd never been quite sure. Simon's eyes followed the direction of her nod. Anthony ambled over, and was only half a second in their presence before Lady Danbury called him a coward. Anthony blinked. As they walked, Anthony grinned, and said, "I noticed you speaking with a number of very proper young ladies.

But Anthony only laughed. Very definitely poison. Simon noted that one had green eyes and the other brown like Anthony, but other than that, the dim evening light made the three men practically interchangeable. Benedict I'm sure you recall from Eton. He was the one who dogged our footsteps for three months when he first arrived. Simon noted the rascally glint in the young man's green eyes and couldn't help but smile in return.

He had a devil-may-care youthful look about him. Simon decided he couldn't be much older than Daphne. Miserable, but accounted for. And then it occurred to him—Daphne was one of those dreaded unmarried young ladies being paraded about by her mother. She'd seemed far too sensible and forthright to be such a creature, and yet of course that was what she had to be. She couldn't have been more than twenty, and as her name was still Bridgerton she was clearly a maiden.

And since she had a mother— well, of course she'd be trapped into an endless round of introductions.

She looked every bit as pained by the experience as Simon had been. Somehow that made him feel a good deal better. Anthony smiled weakly. Sure enough, Daphne looked miserable, Macclesfield was scanning the room, presumably looking for the nearest exit, and Lady Bridgerton's eyes held a gleam so ambitious that Simon cringed in sympathy for the young earl.

But Simon noticed that no one was leaping into action. But I never said we should. You, on the other hand The three Bridgerton brothers looked at him with identical guilty expressions.

Benedict nodded. These were the Bridgerton brothers, after all. Tall, handsome, athletic, with every miss in the nation setting her cap after them, and here they were, completely cowed by a mere slip of a woman.

Of course, it was their mother. Simon supposed one had to make allowances for that. If the debutantes and their mothers don't find me, my mother makes certain I find them. Simon ignored him. Simon immediately realized he'd blundered.

Before Simon could even reply, Benedict leaned in ever-so-slightly closer, and asked, "Why didn't you mention this? This belligerent trio would scare off all but the most determined—or stupid—of suitors. Which would probably explain Nigel Berbrooke. It was" —he glanced rather pointedly at the Bridgertons—"rather obvious that she was a member of your family, so I introduced myself.

Do you know? Probably left to nurse his broken heart. If he hadn't discovered that she was a Bridgerton, frankly, he might have done exactly that. Colin nodded. Really good sport. Anthony's fist found its way to the small of Simon's back, and he started to propel him forward.

Let's go. The alternative required making a really big scene, and Simon had long since learned that he didn't do well with scenes. Besides, if he'd been in Anthony's position, he probably would have done the exact same thing. And after an evening with the Featherington sisters and the like, Daphne didn't sound half-bad. Ambitious Mama or not, Lady Bridgerton clearly loved her children. Daphne and I were just chatting with Lord Macclesfield. She responded with an even tinier nod, sensible girl that she was.

Macclesfield, who had been keeping scrupulously quiet, quickly located the first lull in the conversation, and burst in with, "I think I see my father. Simon choked down a laugh. Daphne raised her brows, silently daring him to comment. Daphne's eyes widened, and this time Simon got to raise his brows, silently daring her to comment.

She didn't, of course, but her mother gave him a sharp look, and Simon had the distinct impression that she was trying to decide whether his newly acquired dukedom made up for his bad reputation. Daphne opened her mouth, but Simon cut in before she could say anything. Why did you not say anything? And before that, with Lord Westborough.

And before that, with—" "I see your point, Daphne," Lady Bridgerton ground out. Simon wondered how unforgivably rude it would be if he laughed. Then Lady Bridgerton turned the full force of her smile on him—and Simon quickly learned where Daphne got that wide, wide smile from—and Simon realized that Lady Bridgerton had decided that his bad reputation could be overlooked. A strange light appeared in her eye, and her head bobbed back and forth between Daphne and Simon.

Then she smiled again. Simon fought the urge to flee. Anthony leaned over slightly, and whispered in his ear, "I am so sorry. But Lady Bridgerton was blissfully oblivious, her head presumably already filling with images of a grand wedding. Then her eyes narrowed as she focused on something behind the men. She looked so overwhelmingly annoyed that Simon, Anthony, and Daphne all twisted their necks to see what was afoot.

Featherington was marching purposefully in their direction, Prudence and Philipa right behind. Simon noticed that Penelope was nowhere to be seen. Desperate times, Simon quickly realized, called for desperate measures. If not, shame on you. You missed witnessing quite the most remarkable coup of the season. It was clear to all partygoers, and especially to This Author, that Miss Daphne Bridgerton has captured the interest of the newly returned to England Duke of Hastings.

One can only imagine the relief of Lady Bridgerton. How mortifying it will be if Daphne remains on the shelf for yet another season! And Lady B— with three more daughters to marry off. Oh, the horror. Secondly, the duke had clearly not given Anthony the entire story of their meeting in the dimly lit hallway; to make a show of refusing to dance with him would certainly raise undue speculation.

Not to mention that Daphne really didn't particularly relish getting drawn into a conversation with the Featheringtons, which was sure to happen if she didn't make immediate haste for the dance floor.

And finally, she kind of sort of just a little teeny bit actually wanted to dance with the duke. Of course the arrogant boor didn't even give her the chance to accept. Before Daphne could manage an "I'd be delighted," or even a mere, "Yes," he had her halfway across the room. The orchestra was still producing those awful noises it makes while the musicians were getting ready to begin, so they were forced to wait a moment before they actually danced.

Daphne answered that with a scowl. Daphne found the experience somewhat unnerving. Just then the orchestra ceased its discordant warm-up and struck the first notes of a waltz. Simon groaned, "Do young ladies still need permission to waltz? Do they? I saw you with them, you know. The truth was, the duke was a most accomplished dancer, and she'd been enjoying the waltz too much even to think of conversation.

Nigel and I must have been quite a welcome. He was not. Remind me never to turn to you should I ever fall ill. Daphne said nothing. Daphne laughed again, this time with more gaiety, and Simon once again found himself mesmerized by her smile. I did see you chatting with my brothers, after all. The Bridgertons are, of course, excluded from my insults. If your evening has gone that far downhill since our interlude with Nigel, you're in sad straits, indeed.

The color was barely noticeable in the shadowy candlelight, but Simon had been watching her closely. She didn't say anything, however, so he added, "Very well, if you must know, I have been introduced to every single unmarried lady in the ballroom. Simon had the sneaking suspicion that she was laughing at him.

She actually gurgled. But only because I have had to suffer the same torture for two years. It's difficult to summon too much pity for a mere evening's worth. You can start breathing now, your grace. I was only teasing. There is Nigel, of course, but I think we must agree he is not a suitable candidate. And since I would someday like to have children, it seemed— " "Some men that age can still sire brats," Simon pointed out.

It was a disgusting image, and it left him feeling faintly furious. At whom, he didn't know; maybe at himself for even bothering to imagine the damned thing, but— "Before Lord Chalmers," Daphne continued, thankfully interrupting his rather unpleasant thought process, "there were two others, both just as repulsive. All men think they don't. But you will. Something in the duke's tone of voice told her that he truly meant what he said. Or go to some beastly cousin. She shot him a devastatingly superior grin.

This endless parade of parties. Your mother nipping at your heels. It has to be worth it. I want a family. It's not so silly when you think about it. I'm fourth of eight children. All I know are large families. I shouldn't know how to exist outside of one. A warning bell sounded in his mind. He wanted her. He wanted her so desperately he was straining against his clothing, but he could never, ever so much as touch her.

Because to do so would be to shatter every last one of her dreams, and rake or not, Simon wasn't certain he could live with himself if he did that. He would never marry, never sire a child, and that was all she wanted out of life. He might enjoy her company; he wasn't certain he could deny himself that. When he blinked, she smiled and said, "You were woolgathering. There were some things he knew he could not say. But it was so easy to talk to this girl. Something about her put his mind at ease, even as his body tingled with desire.

By all rights they should not have been having such a frank conversation so soon into an acquaintance, but somehow it just felt natural. Finally, he just said, "I made some decisions when I was younger. I try to live my life according to those vows. And here I thought all we meant to debate was whose evening was less pleasant. Trapped by their society's conventions and expectations. And that's when an idea popped into his mind.

A strange, wild, and appallingly wonderful idea. It was probably also a dangerous idea, since it would put him in her company for long periods of time, which would certainly leave him in a perpetual state of unfulfilled desire, but Simon valued his self-control above all else, and he was certain he could control his baser urges.

Even as they twirled across the floor, she looked from side to side. This, you'd still have to endure. What I envision is more of a respite from your mother. Doesn't that seem a touch extreme?

Rather, I want to remove you. Daphne leaned in close, as if she were about to tell him a grave secret. Then-dance had deposited them on the opposite side of the room from Daphne's family, so they had time to continue their conversation as they walked slowly back to the Bridgertons.

She looked at him intently. Absolutely nothing. She just stared at him as if she were trying to decide if he were the rudest man on the face of the earth or simply mad in the head. I'm sure you couldn't help it. No one ever has any romantic interest in me. Anthony was still trapped in conversation with the Featheringtons. He did not look happy. I won't have quite so many debutantes thrown in my direction because it will be perceived that I am no longer available. He noticed she didn't bother to thank him.

He squeezed her arm slightly. Featherington, who looked like a bird of prey, and then at her brother, who looked as if he had swallowed a chicken bone. She'd seen those expressions dozens of times before—except on the faces of her own mother and some hapless potential suitor. And how, may I ask, do you know what I said to Daphne? Well, I am certain that Portia Featherington won't be forgetting this evening anytime soon. Featherington to the altar? Shameless, perhaps, but never hopeless.

Then she spotted Daphne and the duke. Anthony, behave yourself. Simon ignored him again. He said to Violet, "We shall, of course, remain in your sight at all times.

I mean, Daphne should be delighted. Shouldn't you, Daphne? What the devil is going on? She turned hastily to Simon. He can't be that wicked. Actually, he reminds me of you. If he attempts to spirit her out onto the balcony, I promise you may dash out to rescue her. But until that unlikely event occurs, please allow your sister her moment of glory.

One would think, as your mother, I would know these things, especially since you are my firstborn, and thus I have known you for the longest of any of my children, but—" "Is that Colin? Violet blinked, then squinted her eyes.

Isn't it lovely that he returned early? I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw him an hour ago. In fact, I—" 'I'd better go to him," Anthony said quickly. Goodbye, Mother. None of her children seemed to be on to any of her tricks.

Just blather on about nothing in particular, and she could be rid of any of them in a trice. She let out a satisfied sigh and resumed her watch of her daughter, now on the other side of the ballroom, her hand nestled comfortably in the crook of the duke's elbow. They made a most handsome couple. Yes, Violet thought, her eyes growing misty, her daughter would make an excellent duchess.

Then she let her gaze wander briefly over to Anthony, who was now right where she wanted him—out of her hair. She allowed herself a secret smile. Children were so easy to manage. Then her smile turned to a frown as she noticed Daphne walking back toward her—on the arm of another man. Violet's eyes immediately scanned the ballroom until she found the duke.

Dash it all, what the devil was he doing dancing with Penelope Featherington? Chapter 6 It has been reported to This Author that the Duke of Hastings mentioned no fewer than six times yester eve that he has no plans to marry. If his intention was to discourage the Ambitious Mamas, he made a grave error in judgment. They will simply view his remarks as the greatest of challenges. And in an interesting side note, his half dozen anti-matrimony remarks were all uttered before he made the acquaintance of the lovely and sensible Miss Daphne Bridgerton.

Lady Whistledown's Society Papers, 30 April The following afternoon found Simon standing on the front steps of Daphne's home, one hand rapping the brass knocker on the door, the other wrapped around a large bouquet of fiendishly expensive tulips.

It hadn't occurred to him that his little charade might require his attention during the daylight hours, but during their stroll about the ballroom the previous night, Daphne had sagely pointed out that if he did not call upon her the next day, no one—least of all her mother— would truly believe he was interested. Simon accepted her words as truth, allowing that Daphne almost certainly had more knowledge in this area of etiquette than he did.

He'd dutifully found some flowers and trudged across Grosvenor Square to Bridgerton House. He'd never courted a respectable woman before, so the ritual was foreign to him. The door was opened almost immediately by the Bridgertons' butler.

Simon gave him his card. The butler, a tall thin man with a hawkish nose, looked at it for barely a quarter second before nodding, and murmuring, "Right this way, your grace. What was unexpected, however, was the sight that awaited him when he was shown into the Bridgertons' drawing room. Daphne, a vision in ice-blue silk ,perched on the edge of Lady Bridgerton's green damask sofa, her face decorated with another one of those wide wide smiles. It would have been a lovely sight, had she not been surrounded by at least a half dozen men, one of whom had actually descended to one knee, gales of poetry spewing from his mouth.

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