The Duke and I (Bridgertons, #1)(37)

"It's my house, too," Daphne said hotly, "and I want him to stay."

Anthony glared at his sister, exasperation evident in every inch of his posture. "Very well," he said, "I'll give you two minutes to state your case. No more."

Daphne glanced hesitantly at Simon, wondering if he'd want to use the two minutes himself. But all he did was shrug, and say, "Go right ahead. He's your brother."

She took a fortifying breath, planted her hands on her hips without even realizing it, and said,

"First of all, I must point out that I have far more to gain from this alliance than his grace. He says he wishes to use me to keep the other women—"

"And their mothers," Simon interrupted.

"—and their mothers at bay. But frankly"—Daphne glanced at Simon as she said this—"I think he's wrong. The women aren't going to stop pursuing him just because they think he might have formed an attachment with another young lady—especially when that young lady is me ."

"And what is wrong with you?" Anthony demanded.

Daphne started to explain, but then she caught a strange glance pass between the two men.

"What was that all about?"

"Nothing," Anthony muttered, looking a trifle sheepish.



"I explained to your brother your theory on why you have not had more suitors," Simon said gently.

"I see." Daphne pursed her lips as she tried to decide whether that was something she ought to be irritated about. "Hmmph. Well, he should have figured that out on his own."

Simon made an odd snorting sound that might have been a laugh.

Daphne leveled a sharp look at both men. "I do hope my two minutes do not include all of these interruptions."

Simon shrugged. "He's the timekeeper."

Anthony clutched at the edge of the desk, probably, Daphne thought, to keep himself from going for Simon's throat. "And he" he said menacingly, "is going to find himself headfirst through the goddamned window if he doesn't shut up."

"Did you know I have always suspected that men were idiots," Daphne ground out, "but I was never positive until today."

Simon grinned.

"Allowing for interruptions," Anthony bit off, shooting yet another deadly glare in Simon's direction even as he spoke to Daphne, "you have a minute and a half left."

"Fine," she snapped. "Then I'll reduce this conversation to one single fact. Today I had six callers. Six! Can you recall the last time I had six callers?"

Anthony just stared at her blankly.

"I can't," Daphne continued, in fine form now. "Because it has never happened. Six men marched up our steps, knocked on our door, and gave Humboldt their cards. Six men brought me flowers, engaged me in conversation, and one even recited poetry."

Simon winced.

"And do you know why?" she demanded, her voice rising dangerously. "Do you?"

Anthony, in his somewhat belatedly arrived wisdom, held his tongue.

"It is all because he" —she jabbed her forefinger toward Simon—"was kind enough to feign interest in me last night at Lady Danbury's ball."

Simon, who had been leaning casually against the edge of the desk, suddenly straightened.

"Well, now," he said quickly, "I wouldn't quite put it that way."



She turned to him, her eyes remarkably steady. "And how would you put it?"

He didn't get much past, "I—" before she added, "Because I can assure you those men have never seen fit to call on me before."

"If they are so myopic," Simon said quietly, "why do you care for their regard?"

She fell silent, drawing back slightly. Simon had the sinking suspicion that he might have said something very, very wrong, but he wasn't positive until he saw her blinking rapidly.

Oh, damn.

Then she wiped one of her eyes. She coughed as she did it, trying to hide the maneuver by pretending to cover her mouth, but Simon still felt like the worst sort of heel.

"Now look what you've done," Anthony snapped. He placed a comforting hand on his sister's arm, all the while glaring at Simon. "Pay him no mind, Daphne. He's an ass."

"Maybe," she sniffled. "But he's an intelligent ass."

Anthony's mouth fell open. She shot him a testy look. "Well, if you didn't want me to repeat it, you shouldn't have said it."

Anthony let out a weary sigh. "Were there really six men here this afternoon?"

She nodded. "Seven including Hastings."

"And," he asked carefully, "were any of them men you might be interested in marrying?"

Simon realized that his fingers were gouging small holes in his thigh and forced himself to move his hand to the desk.

Daphne nodded again. "They are all men with whom I have enjoyed a previous friendship. It is only that they never viewed me as a candidate for romance before Hastings led the way. I might, if given the opportunity, develop an attachment for one of them."

"But—" Simon quickly shut his mouth.

"But what?" Daphne asked, turning to him with curious eyes.



It occurred to him that what he wanted to say was that if those men had only noticed Daphne's charms because a duke had shown interest in her, then they were idiots, and thus she shouldn't even contemplate marrying them. But considering that he had been the one to originally point out that his interest would gain her more suitors—well, frankly, it seemed a bit self-defeating to