The Duke and I (Bridgertons, #1)(50)

"Don't you have somewhere else to be?" Daphne asked pointedly.

Colin shrugged. "Not really."

"Didn't," she asked through clenched teeth, "you just tell me you promised a dance to Prudence Featherington?"

"Gads, no. You must have misheard."

"Perhaps Mother is looking for you, then. In fact, I'm certain I hear her calling your name."





Colin grinned at her discomfort. "You're not supposed to be so obvious," he said in a stage whisper, purposely loud enough for Simon to hear. "He'll figure out that you like him."

Simon's entire body jerked with barely contained mirth.

"It's not his company I'm trying to secure," Daphne said acidly. "It's yours I'm trying to avoid."

Colin clapped a hand over his heart. "You wound me, Daff." He turned to Simon. "Oh, how she wounds me."

"You missed your calling, Bridgerton," Simon said genially. "You should have been on the stage."

"An interesting idea," Colin replied, "but one that would surely give my mother the vapors." His eyes lit up. "Now that's an idea. And just when the party was growing tedious. Good eve to you both." He executed a smart bow and walked off.

Daphne and Simon remained silent as they watched Colin disappear into the crowd. "The next shriek you hear," Daphne said blandly, "will surely be my mother's."

"And the thud will be her body hitting the floor in a dead faint?"

Daphne nodded, a reluctant smile playing across her lips. "But of course." She waited a moment before saying, "I wasn't expecting you this evening."

He shrugged, the black cloth of his evening jacket wrinkling slightly with the movement. "I was bored."

"You were bored so you decided to come all the way out to Hampstead Heath to attend Lady Trowbridge's annual ball?" Her eyebrows arched up. Hampstead Heath was a good seven miles from Mayfair, at least an hour's drive in the best of conditions, more on nights like tonight, when all the ton was clogging the roads. "Forgive me if I start to question your sanity."

"I'm starting to question it myself," he muttered.

"Well, whatever the case," she said with a happy sigh, "I'm glad you're here. It's been a ghastly evening."

"Really?"

She nodded. "I have been plagued by questions about you."

"Well, now, this grows interesting."

"Think again. The first person to interrogate me was my mother. She wants to know why you never call upon me in the afternoon."



Simon frowned. "Do you think it's necessary? I rather thought my undivided attention at these evening affairs would be enough to perpetrate the ruse."

Daphne surprised herself by managing not to growl in frustration. He didn't need to make this sound like such a chore. "Your undivided attention," she said, "would have been enough to fool anyone but my mother. And she probably wouldn't have said anything except that your lack of calls was reported in Whistledown. "

"Really?" Simon asked with great interest.

"Really. So now you'd better call tomorrow or everyone will start to wonder."

"I'd like to know who that woman's spies are," Simon murmured, "and then I'd like to hire them for myself."

"What do you need spies for?"

"Nothing. But it seems a shame to let such stellar talent go to waste."

Daphne rather doubted that the fictitious Lady Whistledown would agree that any talents were being wasted, but she didn't particularly want to get into a discussion of the merits and evils of that newspaper, so she just shrugged off his comment. "And then," she continued, "once my mother was through with me, everyone else set in, and they were even worse."

"Heaven forbid."

She turned an acerbic look on him. "All but one of the questioners were female, and although they all vehemently professed their happiness on my behalf, they were clearly trying to deduce the probability of our not becoming betrothed."

"You told them all I was desperately in love with you, I assume?"

Daphne felt something lurch in her chest. "Yes," she lied, offering him a too-sweet smile. "I have a reputation to maintain, after all."

Simon laughed. "So then, who was the lone male doing the questioning?"

Daphne pulled a face. "It was another duke, actually. A bizarre old man who claimed to have been friends with your father."

Simon's face went suddenly tight.

She just shrugged, not having seen the change in his expression. "He went on and on about what a good duke your father was." She let out a little laugh as she tried to imitate the old man's voice.

"I had no idea you dukes had to look out for one another so much. We don't want an incompetent



duke making the title look bad, after all."

Simon said nothing.

Daphne tapped her finger against her cheek in thought. "Do you know, I've never heard you mention your father, actually."

"That is because I don't choose to discuss him," Simon said curtly.

She blinked with concern. "Is something wrong?"