The Duke and I (Bridgertons, #1)(40)

Daphne just smiled. She knew it was a challenge her mother adored.

Violet cleared her throat softly, signaling a more serious turn of conversation. "I do hope this supper goes well, Daphne. I think Hastings might be an excellent match for you."

"'Might'?' Daphne teased. "I thought dukes were good matches even if they had-two heads and spit while they talked." She laughed. "Out of both mouths!"

Violet smiled benignly. "You might find this difficult to believe, Daphne, but I don't want to see you married off to just anyone. I may introduce you to no end of eligible men, but that is only because I would like you to have as many suitors as possible from which to choose a husband."

Violet smiled wistfully. "It is my fondest dream to see you as happy as I was with your father."

And then, before Daphne could reply, Violet disappeared down the hall.

Leaving Daphne with second thoughts.

Maybe this plan with Hastings wasn't such a good idea, after all. Violet was going to be crushed when they broke off their faux alliance. Simon had said that Daphne might be the one to do the jilting, but she was beginning to wonder if perhaps it wouldn't be better the other way around. It would be mortifying for Daphne to be thrown over by Simon, but at least that way she wouldn't have to endure Violet's bewildered chorus of "Why?"

Violet was going to think she was insane for letting him get away.

And Daphne would be left wondering if maybe her mother was right.

Simon had not been prepared for supper with the Bridgertons. It was a loud, raucous affair, with plenty of laughter and thankfully, only one incident involving a flying pea.(It had looked as if the pea in question had originated at Hyacinth's end of the table, but the littlest Bridgerton had looked so innocent and angelic that Simon had difficulty believing she had actually aimed the legume at her brother.)

Thankfully, Violet had not noticed the flying pea, even though it sailed right over her head in a perfect arc.

But Daphne, who was sitting directly across from him, most certainly had, because her napkin flew up to cover her mouth with remarkable alacrity. Judging from the way her eyes were

crinkling at the corners, she was definitely laughing under the square of linen.

Simon spoke little throughout the meal. Truth be told, it was far easier to listen to the Bridgertons than actually to try to converse with them, especially considering the number of malevolent stares he was receiving from Anthony and Benedict.



But Simon had been seated clear at the opposite end of the table from the two eldest Bridgertons (no accident on Violet's part, he was sure) so it was relatively simple to ignore them and instead enjoy Daphne's interactions with the rest of her family. Every now and then one of them would ask him a direct question, and he would answer, and then he would return to his demeanor of quiet observation.

Finally, Hyacinth, who was seated to Daphne's right, looked him straight in the eye, and said,

"You don't talk much, do you?"

Violet choked on her wine.

'The duke," Daphne said to Hyacinth, "is being far more polite than we are, constantly jumping into the conversation and interrupting one another as if we're afraid we might not be heard."

"I'm not afraid I might not be heard," Gregory said.

"I'm not afraid of that, either," Violet commented dryly. "Gregory, eat your peas."

"But Hyacinth—"

"Lady Bridgerton," Simon said loudly, "may I trouble you for another helping of those delicious peas?"

"Why certainly." Violet shot an arch look at Gregory. "Notice how the duke is eating his peas."

Gregory ate his peas.

Simon smiled to himself as he spooned another portion of peas onto his plate, thankful that Lady Bridgerton had not decided to serve dinner a la russe. It would have been difficult to stave off Gregory's certain accusation of Hyacinth as a pea-tosser if he'd had to summon a footman to serve him.

Simon busied himself with his peas, since he really had no choice but to finish off every last one. He stole a glance at Daphne, however, who was wearing a secret little smile. Her eyes were brimming with infectious good humor, and Simon soon felt the corners of his mouth turning up as well.

"Anthony, why are you scowling?" asked one of the other Bridgerton girls—Simon thought it might be Francesca, but it was hard to say. The two middle ones looked amazingly alike, right down to their blue eyes, so like their mother's.

"I'm not scowling," Anthony snapped, but Simon, having been on the receiving end of those scowls for the better part of an hour, rather thought he was lying.

"You are, too," either Francesca or Eloise said.



Anthony's tone of reply was condescending in the extreme. "If you think I am going to say 'am not,' you are sadly mistaken."

Daphne laughed into her napkin again.

Simon decided life was more amusing than it had been in ages.

"Do you know," Violet suddenly announced, "that I think this might be one of the most pleasant evenings of the year. Even"—she sent a knowing glance down the table at Hyacinth—"if my youngest is tossing peas down the table."

Simon looked up just as Hyacinth cried out, "How did you know?"

Violet shook her head as she rolled her eyes. "My dear children," she said, "when will you learn that I know everything?"