The Duke and I (15 page)

 "Besides the fact that you have sworn to me that you will never marry?" Anthony drawled.

 He had a good point. Simon hated that he had such a good point. "Besides that," he snapped.

 Anthony blinked a couple of times, then said, "No one is interested in Daphne. At least no one we'd have her marry."

 Simon crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. "You don't hold her in terribly high regard, do y—?"

 Before he could even finish the query, Anthony had him by throat. "Don't you dare insult my sister."

 But Simon had learned quite a bit about self-defense on his travels, and it took him only two seconds to reverse their

positions. "I wasn't insulting your sister," he said in a malevolent voice. "I was insulting you."

 Strange gurgling sounds were coming from Anthony's throat, so Simon let him go. "As it happens," he said, brushing his hands against each other, "Daphne explained to me why she has not attracted any suitable suitors."

 "Oh?" Anthony asked derisively.

 "Personally, I think it has everything to do with your and your brothers' apelike ways, but she tells me it is because all

London views her as a friend, and none sees her as a romantic heroine."

 Anthony was silent for a long moment before saying, "I see." Then, after another pause, he added thoughtfully,

"She's probably right."

 Simon said nothing, just watched his friend as he sorted all of this out. Finally, Anthony said, "I still don't like your sniffing about her."

 "Good God, you make me sound positively canine."

 Anthony crossed his arms, "Don't forget, we ran in the same pack after we left Oxford. I know exactly what you've done."

 "Oh, for the love of Christ, Bridgerton, we were twenty! All men are idiots at that age. Besides, you know damn well that h—h—"

 Simon felt his tongue grow awkward, and faked a coughing fit to cover his stammer. Damn. This happened so infrequently these days, but when it did, it was always when he was upset or angry. If he lost control over his emotions, he lost control over his speech. It was as simple as that.

 And unfortunately, episodes such as this only served to make him upset and angry with himself, which in turn exacerbated the stammer. It was the worst sort of vicious circle.

 Anthony looked at him quizzically. "Are you all right?"

 Simon nodded. "Just a bit of dust in my throat," he lied.

 "Shall I ring for tea?'

 Simon nodded again. He didn't particularly want tea, but it seemed the sort of thing one would ask for if one truly did have dust in one's throat.

 Anthony tugged at the bellpull, then turned back to Simon and asked, "You were saying?"

 Simon swallowed, hoping the gesture would help him to regain control over his ire. "I merely meant to point out that you know better than, anyone that at least half of my reputation is undeserved."

 "Yes, but I was there for the half that
was
deserved, and while I don't mind your occasionally socializing with Daphne,

I don't want you courting her."

 Simon stared at his friend—or at least the man he thought was his friend—in disbelief. "Do you really think I'd seduce

your sister?"

 "I don't know what to think. I know you plan never to marry. I know that Daphne
does."
Anthony shrugged. "Frankly,

that's enough for me to keep you two on opposite sides of the dance floor."

 Simon let out a long breath. While Anthony's attitude was irritating as hell, he supposed it was understandable, and in fact even laudable. After all, the man was only acting in the best interests of his sister. Simon had difficulty imagining being responsible for anyone save himself, but he supposed that if he had a sister, he'd be damned picky about who courted her as well.

 Just then, a knock sounded at the door.

 "Enter!" Anthony called out.

 Instead of the maid with tea, Daphne slipped into the room. "Mother told me that the two of you are in beastly moods, and I should leave you alone, but I thought I ought to make certain neither of you had killed the other."

 "No," Anthony said with a grim smile, "just a light strangle."

 To Daphne's credit, she didn't bat an eyelash. "Who strangled whom?"

 "I strangled him," her brother replied, "then he returned the favor."

 "I see," she said slowly. "I'm sorry to have missed the entertainment."

 Simon couldn't suppress a smile at her remark. "Daff," he began.

 Anthony whirled around. "You call her Daff?" His head snapped back to Daphne. "Did you give him permission to use

your given name?"

 "Of course."

 "But—"

 "I think," Simon interrupted, "that we are going to have to come clean."

 Daphne nodded somberly. "I think you're right. If you recall, I told you so."

 "How genteel of you to mention it," Simon murmured.

 She smiled gamely. "I could not resist. With four brothers, after all, one must always seize the moment when one may say, 'I told you so.' "

 Simon looked from sibling to sibling. "I don't know which one of you I pity more."

 "What the devil is going on?" Anthony demanded, and then added as an aside, "And as for your remark,pity me. I am a

far more amiable brother than she is a sister."

 "Not true!"

 Simon ignored the squabble and focused his attention on Anthony. "You want to know what the devil is going on? It's like this..."

 Chapter 7

 Men are sheep. Where one goes, the rest will soon follow.

 Lady Whistledown's Society Papers, 30 April 1813

 All in all, Daphne thought, Anthony was taking this rather well. By the time Simon had finished explaining their little plan (with, she had to admit, frequent interruptions on her part), Anthony had raised his voice only seven times.That was about seven fewer than Daphne would have predicted.

 Finally, after Daphne begged him to hold his tongue until she and Simon were done with their story, Anthony gave a curt nod, crossed his arms, and clamped his mouth shut for the duration of the explanation. His frown was enough to shake the plaster off the walls, but true to his word, he remained utterly silent.

 Until Simon finished with, "And that's that."

 There was silence. Dead silence. For a full ten seconds, nothing but silence, although Daphne would have sworn she could hear her eyes moving in their sockets as they darted back from Anthony to Simon.

 And then finally, from Anthony: "Are you
mad?
'"

 "I thought this might be his reaction," Daphne murmured.

 "Are you both completely, irrevocably, abominably
insane?"
Anthony's voice rose to a roar. "I don't know which of you is more clearly the idiot."

 "Will you hush!" Daphne hissed. "Mother will hear you."

 " Motherwould perish of heart failure if she knew what you were about," Anthony retorted, but he did use a softer tone.

 "But
Mother
is not going to hear of it, is she?" Daphne shot back.

 "No, she's not," Anthony replied, his chin jutting forward, "because your little scheme is finished as of this very moment."

 Daphne crossed her arms. "You can't do anything to stop me."

 Anthony jerked his head toward Simon. "I can kill
him.
"

 "Don't be ridiculous."

 "Duels have been fought for less."

 "By idiots!"

 "I'm not disputing the title as regards to
him.
"

 "If I might interrupt," Simon said quietly.

 "He's your best friend!" Daphne protested.

 "Not," Anthony said, the single syllable brimming with barely contained violence, "anymore."

 Daphne turned to Simon with a huff. "Aren't you going to
say
anything?"

 His lips quirked into an amused half-smile. "And when would I have had the chance?"

 Anthony turned to Simon. "I want you out of this house."

 "Before I may defend myself?"

 "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 dohope 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.