struck the first notes of a waltz.
Simon groaned, "Do young ladies still need permission to waltz?"
Daphne found herself smiling at his discomfort. "How long have you been away?"
"Five years. Do they?"
"Yes."
"Do you have it?" He looked almost pained at the prospect of his escape plan falling apart.
"Of course."
He swept her into his arms and whirled her into the throng of elegantly clad couples. "Good."
They had made a full circle of the ballroom before Daphne asked, "How much of our meeting did you reveal to my
brothers? I saw you with them, you know."
Simon only smiled.
"What are you grinning about?" she asked suspiciously.
"I was merely marveling at your restraint."
"I beg your pardon?"
He shrugged slightly, his shoulders rising as his head tilted to the right. "I hadn't thought you the most patient of ladies," he said, "and here it took you a full three and a half minutes before asking me about my conversation with your brothers."
Daphne fought a blush. The truth was, the duke was a most accomplished dancer, and she'd been enjoying the waltz too
much even to think of conversation.
"But since you asked," he said, mercifully sparing her from having to make a comment, "all I told them was that I ran into you in the hall and that, given your coloring, I instantly recognised you as a Bridgerton and introduced myself."
"Do you think they believed you?"
"Yes," he said softly, "I rather think they did."
"Not that we have anything to hide," she added quickly.
"Of course not."
"If there is any villain in this piece it is most certainly Nigel."
"Of course."
She chewed on her lower lip. "Do you think he's still out in the hall?"
"I certainly have no intention of finding out"
There was an awkward moment of silence, and then Daphne said, "It has been some time since you have attended a
London ball, has it not? Nigel and I must have been quite a welcome."
"You were a welcome sight. He was not."
She smiled slightly at the compliment. "Aside from our little escapade, have you been enjoying your evening?"
Simon's answer was so unequivocally in the negative that he actually snorted a laugh before saying it.
"Really?" Daphne replied, her brows arching with curiosity. "Now that is interesting."
"You find my agony interesting? Remind me never to turn to you should I ever fall ill."
"Oh, please," she scoffed. "It can't have been that bad."
"Oh, it can."
"Certainly not as bad as my evening."
"You did look rather miserable with your mother and Macclesfield," he allowed.
"How kind of you to point it out," she muttered.
"But I still think my evening was worse."
Daphne laughed, a light musical sound that warmed Simon's bones. "What a sad pair we are," she said. "Surely we can
manage a conversation on a topic other than our respective terrible evenings."
Simon said nothing.
Daphne said nothing.
"Well, I can't think of anything," he said.
Daphne laughed again, this time with more gaiety, and Simon once again found himself mesmerized by her smile.
"I give in," she gasped. "What has turned your evening into such a dreadful affair?"
"What or whom? "
"Whom?" she echoed, tilting her head as she looked at him. "This grows even more interesting."
"I can think of any number of adjectives to describe all of the 'whoms' I have had the pleasure of meeting this evening, but 'interesting' is not one of them."
"Now, now," she chided, "don't be rude. I did see you chatting with my brothers, after all."
He nodded gallantly, tightening his hand slightly at her waist as they swung around in a graceful arc. "My apologies. The Bridgertons are, of course, excluded from my insults."
"We are all relieved, I'm sure."
Simon cracked a smile at
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