The duke and I julia Quinn

parties. Your mother nipping at your heels." 
Daphne let out a surprised chuckle. "I doubt she'd appreciate the metaphor." She fell silent for a 
moment, her eyes taking on a faraway look as she said, "But yes, I suppose it is worth it. It has to 
be worth it." 
She snapped back to attention and looked back to his face, her dark eyes meltingly honest. "I 
want a husband. I want a family. It's not so silly when you think about it. I'm fourth of eight 
children. All I know are large families. I shouldn't know how to exist outside of one." 
Simon caught her gaze, his eyes burning hot and intense into hers. A warning bell sounded in his 
mind. He wanted her. He wanted her so desperately he was straining against his clothing, but he 
could never, ever so much as touch her. Because to do so would be to shatter every last one of 
her dreams, and rake or not, Simon wasn't certain he could live with himself if he did that. 
He would never marry, never sire a child, and that was all she wanted out of life. 
He might enjoy her company; he wasn't certain he could deny himself that. But he had to leave 

---

her untouched for another man. 
"Your grace?" she asked quietly. When he blinked, she smiled and said, "You were 
woolgathering." 
He inclined his head graciously. "Merely pondering your words." 
"And did they meet with your approval?" 
"Actually, I can't remember the last time I conversed with someone with such obvious good 
sense." He added in a slow voice, "It's good to know what you want out of life." 
"Do you know what you want?" 
Ah, how to answer that. There were some things he knew he could not say. But it was so easy to 
talk to this girl. Something about her put his mind at ease, even as his body tingled with desire. 
By all rights they should not have been having such a frank conversation so soon into an 
acquaintance, but somehow it just felt natural. Finally, he just said, "I made some decisions when 
I was younger. I try to live my life according to those vows." 
She looked ravenously curious, but good manners prevented her from questioning him further. 
"My goodness," she said with a slightly forced smile, "we've grown serious. And here I thought 
all we meant to debate was whose evening was less pleasant." 
They were both trapped, Simon realized. Trapped by their society's conventions and 
expectations. And that's when an idea popped into his mind. A strange, wild, and appallingly 
wonderful idea. It was probably also a dangerous idea, since it would put him in her company for 
long periods of time, which would certainly leave him in a perpetual state of unfulfilled desire, 
but Simon valued his self-control above all else, and he was certain he could control his baser 
urges. "Wouldn't you like a respite?" he asked suddenly. 
"A respite?" she echoed bemusedly. Even as they twirled across the floor, she looked from side 
to side. "From this?" 
"Not precisely. This, you'd still have to endure. What I envision is more of a respite from your 
mother." 
Daphne choked on her surprise. "You're going to remove my mother from the social whirl? 
Doesn't that seem a touch extreme?" 
"I'm not talking about removing your mother. Rather, I want to remove you." 
Daphne tripped over her feet, and then, just as soon as she'd regained her balance, she tripped 
over his. "I beg your pardon?" 
"I had hoped to ignore London society altogether," he explained, "but I'm finding that may 

---

prove to be impossible." 
"Because you've suddenly developed a taste for ratafia and weak lemonade?" she quipped. 
"No," he said, ignoring her sarcasm, "because I've discovered that half of my university friends 
married in my absence, and their wives seem to be obsessed with throwing the perfect party—" 
"And you've been invited?" 
He nodded grimly. 
Daphne leaned in close, as if she were about to tell him a grave secret. "You're a duke," she 
whispered. "You can say no." 
She watched with fascination as his jaw tightened. "These men," he said, "their husbands—they 
are my friends." 
Daphne felt her lips moving into an unbidden grin. "And you don't want to hurt their wives' 
feelings." 
Simon scowled, clearly uncomfortable with the compliment. 
"Well, I'll be," she said mischievously. "You might just be a nice person after all." 
"I'm hardly nice," he scoffed. 
"Perhaps, but you're hardly cruel, either." 
The music drew to a close, and Simon took her arm and guided her to the perimeter of the 
ballroom. Then-dance had deposited them on the opposite side of the room from Daphne's 
family, so they had time to continue their conversation as they walked slowly back to the 
Bridgertons. 
"What I was trying to say," he said, "before you so skillfully diverted me, was that it appears I 
must attend a certain number of London events." 
"Hardly a fate worse than death." 
He ignored her editorial. "You, I gather, must attend them as well." 
She gave him a single regal nod. 
"Perhaps there is a way that I might be spared the attentions of the Featheringtons and the like, 
and at the same time, you might be spared the matchmaking efforts of your mother." . 
She looked at him intently. "Go on." 

---

"We"—he leaned forward, his eyes mesmerizing hers—"will form an attachment." 
Daphne said nothing. Absolutely nothing. She just stared at him as if she were trying to decide if 
he were the rudest man on the face of the earth or simply mad in the head. 
"Not a true attachment," Simon said impatiently. "Good God, what sort of man do you think I 
am?" 
"Well, I 
was
warned about your reputation," she pointed out. "And you yourself tried to terrify 
me with your rakish ways earlier this evening." 
"I did no such thing." 
"Of course you did." She patted his arm. "But I forgive you. I'm sure you couldn't help it." 
Simon gave her a startled look. "I don't believe I have ever been condescended to by a woman 
before." 
She shrugged. "It was probably past time." 
"Do you know, I'd thought that you were unmarried because your brothers had scared off all 
your suitors, but now I wonder if you did it all on your own." 
Much to his surprise, she just laughed. "No," she said, "I'm unmarried because everyone sees me 
as a friend. No one ever has any romantic interest in me." She grimaced. "Except Nigel." 
Simon pondered her words for a few moments, then realized that his plan could work to her 
benefit even more than he'd originally imagined. "Listen," he said, "and listen quickly because 
we're almost back to your family, and Anthony looks as if he's about to bolt in our direction any 
minute now." 
They both glanced quickly to the right. Anthony was still trapped in conversation with the 
Featheringtons. He did not look happy. 
"Here is my plan," Simon continued, his voice low and intense. "We shall pretend to have 
developed a tendre for each other. I won't have quite so many debutantes thrown in my direction 
because it will be perceived that I am no longer available." 
"No it won't," Daphne replied. "They won't believe you're unavailable until you're standing up 
before the bishop, taking 
your vows." 
The very thought made his stomach churn. "Nonsense," he said. "It may take a bit of time, but 
I'm sure I will eventually be able to convince society that I am not anyone's candidate for 
marriage." 

---

"Except mine," Daphne pointed out. 
"Except yours," he agreed, "but we will know that isn't true." 
"Of course," she murmured. "Frankly, I do not believe that this will work, but if you're 
convinced..." 
"I am." 
"Well, then, what do I gain?" 
"For one thing, your mother will stop dragging you from man to man if she thinks you have 
secured my interest." 
"Rather conceited of you," Daphne mused, 
"—but true." Simon ignored her gibe. "Secondly," he continued, "men are always more 
interested in a woman if they think other men are interested." 
"Meaning?' 
"Meaning, quite simply, and pardon my 
conceit
—”he shot her a sardonic look to show that he 
hadn't missed her earlier sarcasm—"but if all the world thinks I intend to make you my duchess, 
all of those men who see you as nothing more than an affable friend will begin to view you in a 
new light." 
Her lips pursed. "Meaning that once you throw me over, I shall have hordes of suitors at my 
beck and call?" 
"Oh, I shall allow you to be the one to cry off," he said gallantly. 
He noticed she didn't bother to thank him. "I still think I'm gaining much more from this 
arrangement than you," she said. 
He squeezed her arm slightly. "Then you'll do it?" 
Daphne looked at Mrs. Featherington, who looked like a bird of prey, and then at her brother, 
who looked as if he had swallowed a chicken bone. She'd seen those expressions dozens of times 
before—except on the faces of her own mother and some hapless potential suitor. "Yes," she 
said, her voice firm. "Yes, I'll do it" 
* * * 
"What do you suppose is taking them so long?" Violet Bridgerton tugged on her eldest son's 
sleeve, unable to take her eyes off of her daughter—who appeared to have thoroughly captured 

---

the attention of the Duke of Hastings—only one week in London and already the catch of the 
season. 
"I don't know," Anthony replied, looking gratefully at the backs of the Featheringtons as they 
moved on to their next victim, "but it feels as if it's been hours." 
"Do you think he likes her?" Violet asked excitedly. "Do you think our Daphne truly has a 
chance to be a duchess?" 
Anthony's eyes filled with a mixture of impatience and disbelief. "Mother, you told Daphne she 
wasn't even to be 
seen
with him, and now you're thinking of marriage?" 
"I spoke prematurely," Violet said with a blithe wave of her hand. "Clearly he is a man of great 
refinement and taste. And how, may I ask, do you know what I said to Daphne?" 
"Daff told me, of course," Anthony lied. 
"Hmmph. Well, I am certain that Portia Featherington won't be forgetting this evening anytime 
soon." 
Anthony's eyes widened. "Are you trying to marry Daphne off so that she might be happy as a 
wife and a mother, or are you just trying to beat Mrs. Featherington to the altar?" 
"The former, of course," Violet replied in a huff, "and I am offended you would even imply 
otherwise." Her eyes strayed off of Daphne and the duke for just long enough to locate Portia 
Featherington and her daughters. "But I certainly shan't mind seeing the look on her face when 
she realizes that 
Daphne
will make the season's greatest match." 
"Mother, you are hopeless." 
"Certainly not. Shameless, perhaps, but never hopeless." 
Anthony just shook his head and muttered something under his breath. 
"It's impolite to mumble," Violet said, mostly just to annoy him. Then she spotted Daphne and 
the duke. "Ah, here they come. Anthony, behave yourself. Daphne! Your grace!" She paused as 
the couple made their way 'to her side. "I trust you enjoyed your dance." 
"Very much," Simon murmured. "Your daughter is as graceful as she is lovely." Anthony let out 
a snort. 
Simon ignored him. "I hope we may have the pleasure of dancing together again very soon." 
Violet positively glowed. "Oh, I'm