The Duke and I (Bridgertons, #1)(22)

"Your grace, may I present Prudence, Philipa, and Penelope."

The girls made their curtsies, not a one of them daring to meet his eye.

"I have another daughter at home," the lady continued. "Felicity. But she's a mere ten years of age, so I do not bring her to such events."



Simon could not imagine why she felt the need to share this information with him, but he just kept his tone carefully bored (this, he'd long since learned, was the best way not to show anger) and prompted, "And you are... ?"

"Oh, beg pardon! I am Mrs. Featherington, of course. My husband passed on three years ago, but he was your papa's, er, dearest friend." Her voice trailed off at the end of her sentence, as she remembered Simon's last reaction to mention of his father.

Simon nodded curtly.

"Prudence is quite accomplished on the pianoforte," Mrs. Featherington said, with forced brightness.

Simon noted the oldest girl's pained expression and quickly decided never to attend a musicale chez Featherington.

"And my darling Philipa is an expert watercolorist." Philipa beamed.

"And Penelope?" some devil inside Simon forced him to ask.

Mrs. 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.

"Penelope?" Mrs. Featherington echoed, her voice a touch shrill. "Penelope is... ah... well, she's Penelope!" Her mouth wobbled into a patently false grin.

Penelope looked as if she wanted to dive under a rug. Simon decided that if he was forced to dance, he'd ask Penelope.

"Mrs. Featherington," came a sharp and imperious voice that could only belong to Lady Danbury, "are you pestering the duke?"

Simon wanted to answer in the affirmative, but the memory of Penelope Featherington's

mortified face led him to murmur, "Of course not."

Lady Danbury raised a brow as she moved her head slowly toward him. "Liar."

She turned back to Mrs. Featherington, who had gone quite green. Mrs. Featherington said nothing. Lady Danbury said nothing. Mrs. 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. "That wasn't very well done of you," he said.





"Bah. She's feathers for brains, and so do her girls, except maybe that unattractive young one."

Lady Danbury shook her head. "If they'd only put her in a different color..."

Simon fought a chuckle and lost. "You never did learn to mind your own business, did you?"

"Never. And what fun would that be?" She smiled. Simon could tell she didn't want to, but she smiled. "And as for you," she continued. "You are a monstrous guest. One would have thought you'd possess the manners to greet your hostess by now."

"You were always too well surrounded by your admirers for me to dare even approach."

"So glib," she commented.

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.

"Your friend Bridgerton approaches," she said.

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. "I beg your pardon?"

"You could have come over and saved your friend from the Featherington quartet ages ago."

"But I was so enjoying his distress."

"Hmmph." And without another word (or another grunt) she walked away.

"Strangest old woman," Anthony said. "I wouldn't be surprised if she's that cursed Whistledown woman."

"You mean the gossip columnist?" Anthony nodded as he led Simon around a potted plant to the corner where his brothers were waiting. As they walked, Anthony grinned, and said, "I noticed you speaking with a number of very proper young ladies." Simon muttered something rather obscene and unflattering under his breath.

But Anthony only laughed. "You can't say I didn't warn you, can you?"

"It is galling to admit that you might be right about anything, so please do not ask me to do so."

Anthony laughed some more. "For that comment I shall start introducing you to the debutantes myself."

"If you do," Simon warned, "you shall soon find yourself dying a very slow and painful death."





Anthony grinned. "Swords or pistols?"

"Oh, poison. Very definitely poison."

"Ouch." Anthony stopped his stroll across the ballroom in front of two other Bridgerton men, both clearly marked by their chestnut hair, tall height, and excellent bone structure. 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.

"You do remember my brothers?" Anthony queried politely. "Benedict and Colin. Benedict I'm sure you recall from Eton. He was the one who dogged our footsteps for three months when he first arrived."