The Duke and I (Bridgertons, #1)(68)

Simon caught himself wanting to laugh. "Not if you say so."

"You'll soon learn," she said archly, "that I am always right."

This time he did laugh. There was no way he could have held it in. He finally stopped, realizing that Daphne was silent. She was regarding him warmly, though, her lips curved into a nostalgic smile.

"This was nice," she said, placing her hand on his. "Almost like it used to be, don't you think?"

He nodded, turning his hand palm up so that he could clasp hers.

"It will be like this again, won't it?" Her eyes showed a flicker of trepidation. "We'll go back to the way it was, won't we? Everything will be exactly the same."

"Yes," he said, even though he knew it could not be true. They might find contentment, but it would never be just as it was.

She smiled, closed her eyes, and rested her head against his shoulder. "Good."

Simon watched their reflection for several minutes. And he almost believed he would be able to make her happy.





*



The next evening—Daphne's last night as Miss Bridgerton—Violet knocked on her bedroom

door.

Daphne was sitting on her bed, mementos of her childhood spread out before her, when she heard the rap. "Come in!" she called out.

Violet poked her head in, an awkward smile pasted on her face. "Daphne," she said, sounding queasy, "do you have a moment?"



Daphne looked at her mother with concern. "Of course." She stood as Violet edged into the room. Her mother's skin was a remarkable match with her yellow dress.

"Are you quite all right, Mother?" Daphne inquired. "You look a little green."

"I'm fine. I just—" Violet cleared her throat and steeled her shoulders. "It's time we had a talk."

"Ohhhhhh," Daphne breathed, her heart racing with anticipation. She'd been waiting for this. All her friends had told her that the night before one's wedding, one's mother delivered all the secrets of marriage. At the last possible moment, one was admitted into the company of womanhood, and told all those wicked and delicious facts that were kept so scrupulously from the ears of unmarried girls. Some of the young ladies of her set had, of course, already married, and Daphne and her friends had tried to get them to reveal what no one else would, but the young matrons had just giggled and smiled, saying, "You'll find out soon."

"Soon" had become "now," and Daphne couldn't wait.

Violet, on the other hand, looked as if she might lose the contents of her stomach at any moment.

Daphne patted a spot on her bed. "Would you like to sit here, Mother?"

Violet blinked in a rather distracted manner. "Yes, yes, that would be fine." She sat down, half-on and half-off the bed. She didn't look very comfortable.

Daphne decided to take pity on her and begin the conversation. "Is this about marriage?" she asked gently.

Violet's nod was barely perceptible.

Daphne fought to keep the fascinated glee out of her voice. "The wedding night?"

This time Violet managed to bob her chin up and down an entire inch. "I really don't know how to tell this to you. It's highly indelicate."

Daphne tried to wait patiently. Eventually her mother would get to the point.

"You see," Violet said haltingly, "there are things you need to know. Things that will occur tomorrow night. Things"—she coughed—"that involve your husband."

Daphne leaned forward, her eyes widening.

Violet scooted back, clearly uncomfortable with Daphne's obvious interest. "You see, your husband... that is to say, Simon, of course, since he will be your husband..."





Since Violet showed no sign of finishing that thought, Daphne murmured, "Yes, Simon will be my husband."

Violet groaned, her cornflower blue eyes glancing everywhere but Daphne's face. "This is very difficult for me."

"Apparently so," Daphne muttered.

Violet took a deep breath and sat up straight, her narrow shoulders thrown back as if she were steeling herself for the most unpleasant task. "On your wedding night," she began, "your husband will expect you to do your marital duty."

This was nothing Daphne didn't already know.

"Your marriage must be consummated."

"Of course," Daphne murmured.

"He will join you in your bed."

Daphne nodded. She knew this as well.

"And he will perform certain"—Violet groped for a word, her hands actually waving through the air— "intimacies upon your person."

Daphne's lips parted slightly, her short indrawn breath the room's only sound. This was finally getting interesting.

"I am here to tell you," Violet said, her voice turning quite brisk, "that your marital duty need not be unpleasant."

But what was it?

Violet's cheeks blazed. "I know that some women find the, er, act distasteful, but—"

"They do?" Daphne asked curiously. 'Then why do I see so many maids sneaking off with the footmen?"

Violet instantly went into outraged employer mode. "Which maid was that?"she demanded.