The Duke and I (Bridgertons, #1)(39)

Now they were men in truth.

Simon had felt the change within himself during his travels. It had been a slow transformation, wrought over time as he faced new challenges. But now he realized that he'd returned to England still picturing Anthony as that twenty-two-year-old boy he'd left behind.

He'd done his friend a great disservice, he'd realized, in failing to realize that he, too, had grown up. Anthony had responsibilities Simon had never even dreamed of. He had brothers to guide, sisters to protect. Simon had a dukedom, but Anthony had a family.





There was a grave difference, and Simon found that he couldn't fault his friend for his

overprotective and indeed somewhat mulish behavior.

"I think," Simon said slowly, finally answering Daphne's question, "that your brother and I are both different people than we were when we ran wild six years ago. And I think that might not be such a bad thing."





*



Several hours later, the Bridgerton household was in chaos.

Daphne had changed into an evening dress of dark green velvet that someone had once said almost made her eyes look not quite brown, and was presently idling about in the great hall, trying to find a way to calm her mother's racing nerves.

"I cannot believe," Violet said, one hand fluttering on her chest, "that Anthony forgot to tell me he invited the duke to dinner. I had no time to prepare. None at all."

Daphne eyed the menu in her hand, which began with turtle soup and marched through three more courses before finishing with lamb a la béchamel (followed, of course, by a choice of four desserts). She tried to keep her voice free of sarcasm as she said, "I do not think the duke will have cause to complain."

"I pray that he won't," Violet replied. "But if I had known he was coming, I would have made sure we had a beef dish as well. One cannot entertain without a beef dish."

"He knows this is an informal meal."

Violet shot her an acerbic look. "No meal is informal when a duke is calling."

Daphne regarded her mother thoughtfully. Violet was wringing her hands and gnashing her

teeth. "Mother," Daphne said, "I don't think the duke is the sort to expect us to dramatically alter our family supper plans on his behalf."

"He might not expect it," Violet said, "but I do. Daphne, there are certain rules in society.

Expectations. And frankly, I do not understand how you can be quite so calm and disinterested."

"I'm not disinterested!"

"You certainly don't look nervous." Violet eyed her suspiciously. "How can you not be nervous?

For goodness sake, Daphne, this man is thinking of marrying you."

Daphne caught herself just before she groaned. "He has never said as much, Mother."

"He didn't have to. Why else would he have danced with you last night? The only other lady he so honored was Penelope Featherington, and we both know that that had to be out of pity."



"I like Penelope," Daphne said.

"I like Penelope, too," Violet returned, "and I long for the day her mother realizes that a girl of her complexion cannot be dressed in tangerine satin, but that is beside the point."

"What is the point?"

"I don't know!" Violet very nearly wailed.

Daphne shook her head. "I'm going to find Eloise."

"Yes, do that," Violet said distractedly, "and make sure Gregory is clean. He never washes behind his ears. And Hyacinth—Good God, what are we to do about Hyacinth? Hastings will not expect a ten-year-old at the table."

"Yes, he will," Daphne replied patiently. "Anthony told him we were dining as a family."

"Most families do not allow their younger children to dine with them," Violet pointed out.

"Then that is their problem." Daphne finally gave in to her exasperation and let out a loud sigh.

"Mother, I spoke to the duke. He understands that this is not a formal meal. And he specifically told me that he was looking forward to a change of pace. He has no family himself, so he has never experienced anything like a Bridgerton family dinner."

"God help us." Violet's face went utterly pale. "Now, Mother," Daphne said quickly, "I know what you're thinking, and I assure you that you don't have to worry about Gregory putting creamed potatoes on Francesca's chair again. I'm certain he has outgrown such childish

behavior."

"He did it last week!"

"Well, then," Daphne said briskly, not missing a beat, "then I'm sure he's learned his lesson."

The look Violet gave her daughter was dubious in the extreme.

"Very well, then," Daphne said, her tone considerably less businesslike, "then I will simply threaten him with death if he does anything to upset you."

"Death won't scare him," Violet mused, "but perhaps I can threaten to sell his horse."

"He'll never believe you."

"No, you're right. I'm far too soft-hearted." 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."