Later that night, as Daphne prepared for bed, she found herself oddly restless. Sleep, she could
already tell,
would prove impossible, so she pulled on a robe and wandered downstairs in search
of warm milk and some company. With so many siblings, she thought wryly, surely
someone
had
to be up and about.
On her way to the kitchen, however, she heard rustlings in Anthony's study, so she poked her
head in. Her eldest brother was hunched over his desk, ink spots
on his fingers from the
correspondence he was answering. It was uncommon to find him here so late into the evening.
He'd preferred to keep his study at Bridgerton House even after he'd moved into his bachelor's
lodgings, but he usually took care of his business matters during the day.
"Don't you have a secretary to do that?" Daphne asked with a smile.
Anthony looked up. "Damned fool got married and moved to Bristol," he muttered.
"Ah." She walked into the room and perched on a chair opposite the desk. "That would explain
your presence here in the wee hours of the morning."
Anthony glanced up at the clock. "Midnight is hardly wee. And besides, it took me all afternoon
just to get the Thames out of my hair."
Daphne tried not to smile.
"But you're right," Anthony said with a sigh, setting down his quill. "It's late, and there's nothing
here that won't keep until the morning." He leaned back and stretched out his neck. "What are
you doing up and about?"
"Couldn't sleep," Daphne explained with a shrug. "I came downstairs
for some hot milk and
heard you cursing."
Anthony let out a grunt. "It's this bloody quill. I swear I—" He smiled sheepishly. "I suppose 'I
swear' pretty much takes care of it, eh?"
Daphne smiled in return. Her brothers had never minded their language around her. "So you'll
be heading home soon, then?"
He nodded. "Although that warm milk you mentioned sounds rather nice. Why don't you ring
for it?"
Daphne stood. "I've a better idea. Why don't we get it ourselves? We're not complete idiots. We
should be able to warm some milk. And besides, the servants are probably in bed."
Anthony followed her out the door. "Very well, but you shall have to do all the work. I haven't
the faintest idea how to boil milk."
"I don't think one is supposed to let it boil," Daphne said with a frown. She rounded the last
corner on the way to the kitchen and pushed open the door. The room was dark, save for
moonlight glowing through the windows. "Find
a lamp while I find some milk," she said to
Anthony. Her face took on a slight smirk. "You
can
light a lamp, can't you?"
"Oh, I believe I can manage that," he said good-naturedly.
Daphne smiled to herself as she fumbled about in the dark, pulling a small pot from the hanging
rack above her. She and Anthony usually had an easy, joking relationship, and it was nice to see
him back to his normal self again. He'd been in such a beastly mood
for the past week, with most
of his sour temper directed squarely at her.
And Simon, of course, but Simon was rarely present to receive Anthony's scowls.
A light flickered to life behind her, and Daphne turned to see Anthony smiling triumphantly.
"Have you found the milk," he asked, "or must I venture out in search of a cow?"
She laughed and held up a bottle. "Found it!" She wandered over to the enclosed range, a rather
modern-looking contraption that Cook had purchased earlier in the year. "Do you know how to
work this?" she asked.
"No idea. You?"
Daphne shook her head. "None." She reached forward and gingerly touched
the surface of the
stove top. "It's not hot."
"Not even a little bit?"
She shook her head. "It's rather cold, actually."
Brother and sister were silent for a few seconds.
"You know," Anthony finally said, "cold milk might be quite refreshing."
"I was just thinking that very thing!"
Anthony grinned and found two mugs. "Here, you pour."
Daphne did, and soon they were seated on stools, gulping down the fresh milk. Anthony drained
his mug in short order, and poured another. "You need some more?" he asked, wiping off his
milk mustache.
"No, I'm barely halfway to the bottom," Daphne said, taking another sip. She licked at her lips,
fidgeting in her chair. Now that
she was alone with Anthony, and he seemed like he was back in
his usual good humor, it seemed like a good time to...Well, the truth was... Oh, blast, she thought
to herself,
Do'stlaringiz bilan baham: 
