The duke and I julia Quinn

a family. 

---

There was a grave difference, and Simon found that he couldn't fault his friend for his 
overprotective and indeed somewhat mulish behavior. 
"I think," Simon said slowly, finally answering Daphne's question, "that your brother and I are 
both different people than we were when we ran wild six years ago. And I think that might not be 
such a bad thing." 
* * * 
Several hours later, the Bridgerton household was in chaos. 
Daphne had changed into an evening dress of dark green velvet that someone had once said 
almost made her eyes look not quite brown, and was presently idling about in the great hall, 
trying to find a way to calm her mother's racing nerves. 
"I cannot 
believe,"
Violet said, one hand fluttering on her chest, "that Anthony forgot to tell me 
he invited the duke to dinner. I had no time to prepare. None at all." 
Daphne eyed the menu in her hand, which began with turtle soup and marched through three 
more courses before finishing with lamb a la béchamel (followed, of course, by a choice of four 
desserts). She tried to keep her voice free of sarcasm as she said, "I do not think the duke will 
have cause to complain." 
"I pray that he won't," Violet replied. "But if I had known he was coming, I would have made 
sure we had a beef dish as well. One cannot entertain without a beef dish." 
"He knows this is an informal meal." 
Violet shot her an acerbic look. "No meal is informal when a duke is calling." 
Daphne regarded her mother thoughtfully. Violet was wringing her hands and gnashing her 
teeth. "Mother," Daphne said, "I don't think the duke is the sort to expect us to dramatically alter 
our family supper plans on his behalf." 
"He might not expect it," Violet said, "but I do. Daphne, there are certain rules in society. 
Expectations. And frankly, I do not understand how you can be quite so calm and disinterested." 
"I'm not disinterested!" 
"You certainly don't look nervous." Violet eyed her suspiciously. "How can you not be nervous? 
For goodness sake, Daphne, this man is thinking of marrying you." 
Daphne caught herself just before she groaned. "He has never said as much, Mother." 
"He didn't have to. Why else would he have danced with you last night? The only other lady he 
so honored was Penelope Featherington, and we both know that that had to be out of pity." 

---

"I 
like
Penelope," Daphne said. 
"I like Penelope, too," Violet returned, "and I long for the day her mother realizes that a girl of 
her complexion cannot be dressed in tangerine satin, but that is beside the point." 
"What is the point?" 
"I don't know!" Violet very nearly wailed. 
Daphne shook her head. "I'm going to find Eloise." 
"Yes, do that," Violet said distractedly, "and make sure Gregory is clean. He never washes 
behind his ears. And Hyacinth—Good God, what are we to do about Hyacinth? Hastings will not 
expect a ten-year-old at the table." 
"Yes, he will," Daphne replied patiently. "Anthony told him we were dining as a family." 
"Most families do not allow their younger children to dine with them," Violet pointed out. 
"Then that is their problem." Daphne finally gave in to her exasperation and let out a loud sigh. 
"Mother, I spoke to the duke. He understands that this is not a formal meal. And he specifically 
told me that he was looking forward to a change of pace. He has no family himself, so he has 
never experienced anything like a Bridgerton family dinner." 
"God help us." Violet's face went utterly pale. "Now, Mother," Daphne said quickly, "I know 
what you're thinking, and I assure you that you don't have to worry about Gregory putting 
creamed potatoes on Francesca's chair again. I'm certain he has outgrown such childish 
behavior." 
"He did it last week!" 
"Well, then," Daphne said briskly, not missing a beat, "then I'm sure he's learned his lesson." 
The look Violet gave her daughter was dubious in the extreme. 
"Very well, then," Daphne said, her tone considerably less businesslike, "then I will simply 
threaten him with death if he does anything to upset you." 
"Death won't scare him," Violet mused, "but perhaps I can threaten to sell his horse." 
"He'll never believe you." 
"No, you're right. I'm far too soft-hearted." Violet frowned. "But he might believe me if I told 
him he would be forbidden to go on his daily ride." 

---

"That might work," Daphne agreed. "Good. I shall go off and scare some sense into him." Violet 
took two steps then turned around. "Having children is such a challenge." 
Daphne just smiled. She knew it was a challenge her mother adored. 
Violet cleared her throat softly, signaling a more serious turn of conversation. "I do hope this 
supper goes well, Daphne. I think Hastings might be an excellent match for you." 
"'Might'?' Daphne teased. "I thought dukes were good matches even if they had-two heads and 
spit while they talked." She laughed. "Out of both mouths!" 
Violet smiled benignly. "You might find this difficult to believe, Daphne, but I don't want to see 
you married off to just anyone. I may introduce you to no end of eligible men, but that is only 
because I would like you to have as many suitors as possible from which to choose a husband." 
Violet smiled wistfully. "It is my fondest dream to see you as happy as I was with your father." 
And then, before Daphne could reply, Violet disappeared down the hall. 
Leaving Daphne with second thoughts. 
Maybe this plan with Hastings wasn't such a good idea, after all. Violet was going to be crushed 
when they broke off their faux alliance. Simon had said that Daphne might be the one to do the 
jilting, but she was beginning to wonder if perhaps it wouldn't be better the other way around. It 
would be mortifying for Daphne to be thrown over by Simon, but at least that way she wouldn't 
have to endure Violet's bewildered chorus of "Why?" 
Violet was going to think she was insane for letting him get away. 
And Daphne would be left wondering if maybe her mother was right. 
Simon had not been prepared for supper with the Bridgertons. It was a loud, raucous affair, with 
plenty of laughter and thankfully, only one incident involving a flying pea.(It had looked as if the 
pea in question had originated at Hyacinth's end of the table, but the littlest Bridgerton had 
looked so innocent and angelic that Simon had difficulty believing she had actually aimed the 
legume at her brother.) 
Thankfully, Violet had not noticed the flying pea, even though it sailed right over her head in a 
perfect arc. 
But Daphne, who was sitting directly across from him, most certainly had, because her napkin 
flew up to cover her mouth with remarkable alacrity. Judging from the way her eyes were 
crinkling at the corners, she was definitely laughing under the square of linen. 
Simon spoke little throughout the meal. Truth be told, it was far easier to listen to the 
Bridgertons than actually to try to converse with them, especially considering the number of 
malevolent stares he was receiving from Anthony and Benedict. 

---

But Simon had been seated clear at the opposite end of the table from the two eldest Bridgertons 
(no accident on Violet's part, he was sure) so it was relatively simple to ignore them and instead 
enjoy Daphne's interactions with the rest of her family. Every now and then one of them would 
ask him a direct question, and he would answer, and then he would return to his demeanor of 
quiet observation. 
Finally, Hyacinth, who was seated to Daphne's right, looked him straight in the eye, and said, 
"You don't talk much, do you?" 
Violet choked on her wine. 
'The duke," Daphne said to Hyacinth, "is being far more polite than we are, constantly jumping 
into the conversation and interrupting one another as if we're afraid we might not be heard." 
"I'm not afraid I might not be heard," Gregory said. 
"I'm not afraid of that, either," Violet commented dryly. "Gregory, eat your peas." 
"But Hyacinth—" 
"Lady Bridgerton," Simon said loudly, "may I trouble you for another helping of those delicious 
peas?" 
"Why certainly." Violet shot an arch look at Gregory. "Notice how the duke is eating his peas." 
Gregory ate his peas. 
Simon smiled to himself as he spooned another portion of peas onto his plate, thankful that Lady 
Bridgerton had not decided to serve dinner