The Duke and I (Bridgertons, #1)(103)

She put her hand on his. "You're not the boy your father thought you were."

"I know that," he said, but his eyes didn't meet hers.

"Simon, look at me," she gently ordered. When he did, she repeated her words. "You're not the boy your father thought you were."

"I know that," he said again, looking puzzled and maybe just a bit annoyed.

"Are you sure?" she asked softly.

"Damn it, Daphne, I know—" His words tumbled into silence as his body began to shake. For one startling moment, Daphne thought he was going to cry. But the tears that pooled in his eyes never fell, and when he looked up at her, his body shuddering, all he said was, "I hate him, Daphne. I h-h-h—"

She moved her hands to his cheeks and turned his face to hers, forcing him to meet her steady gaze. "That's all right," she said. "It sounds as if he was a horrid man. But you have to let it go."

"I can't."

"You can. It's all right to have anger, but you can't let that be the ruling factor in your life. Even now, you're letting him dictate your choices."





Simon looked away.

Daphne's hands dropped from his face, but she made sure they rested on his knees. She needed this connection. In a strange way she feared that if she let go of him right now she'd lose him forever. "Did you ever stop to wonder if you wanted a family? If you wanted a child of your own? You'd be such a wonderful father, Simon, and yet you won't even let yourself consider the notion. You think you're getting your revenge, but you're really just letting him control you from the grave."

"If I give him a child, he wins," Simon whispered.

"No, if you give yourself a child, you win." She swallowed convulsively. "We all win."

Simon said nothing, but she could see his body shaking.

"If you don't want a child because you don't want one, that's one thing. But if you deny yourself the joy of fatherhood because of a dead man, then you're a coward."

Daphne winced as the insult crossed her lips, but it had to be said. "At some point you've got to leave him behind and live your own life. You've got to let go of the anger and—"

Simon shook his head, and his eyes looked lost and hopeless. "Don't ask me to do that. It's all I had. Don't you see, it's all I had?"

"I don't understand."

His voice rose in volume. "Why do you think I learned to speak properly? What do you think drove me? It was anger. It was always anger, always to show him."

"Simon—"

A bubble of mocking laughter erupted from his throat. "Isn't that just too amusing? I hate him. I hate him so much, and yet he's the one reason I've managed to succeed."

Daphne shook her head. "That's not true," she said fervently, "you would have succeeded no matter what. You're stubborn and brilliant, and I know you. You learned to speak because of you, not because of him." When he said nothing, she added in a soft voice, "If he'd shown you love, it would have made it all the easier."

Simon started to shake his head, but she cut him off by taking his hand and squeezing it. "I was shown love," she whispered. "I knew nothing but love and devotion when I was growing up.

Trust me, it makes everything easier."

Simon sat very still for several minutes, the only sound the low whoosh of his breath as he fought to control his emotions. Finally, just when Daphne was beginning to fear she'd lost him, he looked up at her with shattered eyes.



"I want to be happy," he whispered.

"You will be," she vowed, wrapping her arms around him. "You will be."





Chapter 21


The Duke of Hastings is back!

Lady Whistledown's Society Papers ,6 August 1813



Simon didn't speak as they slowly rode home. Daphne's mare had been found munching

contentedly on a patch of grass about twenty yards away, and even though Daphne had insisted that she was fit to ride, Simon had insisted that he didn't care. After tying the mare's reins to his own gelding, he had boosted Daphne into his saddle, hopped up behind her, and headed back to Grosvenor Square.

Besides, he needed to hold her.

He was coming to realize that he needed to hold on to something in life, and maybe she was right—maybe anger wasn't the solution. Maybe—just maybe he could learn to hold on to love instead.

When they reached Hastings House, a groom ran out to take care of the horses, and so Simon and Daphne trudged up the front steps and entered the hall.

And found themselves being stared down by the three older Bridgerton brothers.

"What the hell are you doing in my house?" Simon demanded. All he wanted to do was scoot up the stairs and make love to his wife, and instead he was greeted by this belligerent trio. They were standing with identical postures—legs spread, hands on hips, chins jutted out. If Simon hadn't been so damned irritated with the lot of them, he probably would have had the presence of mind to have been slightly alarmed.

Simon had no doubt that he could hold his own against one of them— maybe two—but against all three he was a dead man.

"We heard you were back," Anthony said.