The duke and I julia Quinn

just go ahead and ask him
. 

---

"Anthony?" she said, a touch hesitantly. "Could I ask you a question?" 
"Of course." 
"It's about the duke." 
Anthony's mug hit the table with a loud thunk. "What about the duke?" 
"I know you don't like him..." she began, her words trailing off. 
"It's not that I don't like him," Anthony said with a weary sigh. "He's one of my closest friends." 
Daphne's brows rose. "One would be hard-pressed to deduce that based on your recent 
behavior." 
"I just don't trust him around women. Around you in particular." 
"Anthony, you must know that that is one of the silliest things you have ever said. The duke 
might have been a rake—I suppose he might still be a rake for all I know—but he would never 
seduce me, if only because I'm your sister." 
Anthony looked unconvinced. 
"Even if there weren't some male code of honor about such things," Daphne persisted, barely 
resisting the urge to roll her eyes, "he knows you'd kill him if he touched me. The man isn't 
stupid." 
Anthony refrained from commenting, instead saying, "What was it you wanted to ask me?" 
"Actually," Daphne said slowly, "I was wondering if you knew why the duke was so opposed to 
marriage." 
Anthony spit his milk halfway across the table. "For Christ's sake, Daphne! I thought we agreed 
that this was just a charade! Why are you even thinking about marrying him?" 
"I'm not!" she insisted, thinking that she might be lying but unwilling to examine her feelings 
closely enough to be sure. "I'm just curious," she muttered defensively. 
"You had better not be thinking about trying to get him to marry you," Anthony said with a 
grunt, "because I'll tell you right now he'll never do it. Never. Do you understand me, Daphne? 
He won't marry you." 
"I would have to be a half-wit not to understand you," she grumbled. 
"Good. Then that's the end of it." 

---

"No, it's not!" she returned. "You still haven't answered my question." 
Anthony leveled a stony stare at her across the table. 
"About why he won't get married," she prodded. 
"Why are you so interested?" he asked wearily. 
The truth, Daphne feared, lay a little too close to Anthony's accusations, but she just said, "I'm 
curious, and besides, I think I have a right to know, since, if I don't find an acceptable suitor 
soon, I may become a pariah after the duke drops me." 
"I thought 
you
were supposed to jilt 
him,"
Anthony said suspiciously. 
Daphne snorted. "Who is going to believe 
that?
" 
Anthony didn't immediately jump to her defense, which Daphne found vaguely annoying. But 
he did say, "I don't know why Hastings refuses to marry. All I know is that he has maintained 
this opinion for as long as I've known him." Daphne opened her mouth to speak, but Anthony cut 
her off by adding, 
"And
he's stated it in such a way so that I do not believe his is the weak vow of 
the beleaguered bachelor." 
"Meaning?" 
"Meaning that unlike most men, when he says he will never marry, he means it." 
"I see." 
Anthony let out a long, tired breath, and Daphne noticed tiny lines of concern around his eyes 
that she'd never seen before. "Choose a man from your new crowd of suitors," he said, "and 
forget Hastings. He's a good man, but he's not for you." 
Daphne latched on to the first part of his sentence. "But you think he's a good—" 
"He's not for you," Anthony repeated. 
But Daphne couldn't help thinking that maybe, just maybe, Anthony might be wrong. 

---

Chapter 9 
The Duke of Hastings was espied yet again with Miss Bridgerton. (That is Miss Daphne Bridgerton, 
for those of you who, like This Author, find it difficult to differentiate between the multitudes of 
Bridgerton offspring.) It has been some time since This Author has seen a couple so obviously 
devoted to one another . 
It does seem odd, however, that, with the exception of the Bridgerton family outing to Greenwich, 
which was reported in this newspaper ten days earlier, they are seen together only at evening 
functions. This Author has it on the best authority that while the duke called upon Miss Bridgerton 
at her home a fortnight ago, this courtesy has not been repeated, and indeed, they have not been 
seen riding together in Hyde Park even once ! 
Lady Whistledown's Society Papers, 14 May 1813 
Two weeks later, Daphne found herself in Hampstead Heath, standing on the fringes of Lady 
Trowbridge's ballroom, far away from the fashionable crowd. She was quite content with her 
position. 
She didn't want to be at the center of the party. She didn't want to be found by the dozens of 
suitors now clamoring to claim her in a dance. In all truth, she didn't want to be in Lady 
Trowbridge's ballroom at all. 
Because Simon was not there. 
This did not mean that she was destined to spend the evening as a wallflower. All of Simon's 
predictions in regard to her burgeoning popularity had proven correct, and Daphne, who had 
always been the girl everyone liked but no one adored, was suddenly proclaimed the season's 
Incomparable. Everyone who cared to air an opinion on the subject (and this being the 
ton,
that 
meant everyone) declared that they always knew that Daphne was special and were just waiting 
for everyone else to notice. Lady Jersey told everyone who would listen that she had been 
predicting Daphne's success for months, and the only mystery was why no one had listened to 
her sooner. 
Which was, of course, hogwash. While Daphne had certainly never been the object of Lady 
Jersey's scorn, not one Bridgerton could recall ever hearing Lady Jersey refer to her (as she was 
presently doing) as 'Tomorrow's Treasure." 
But even though Daphne's dance card was now full within minutes of her arrival at any ball, and 
even though men fought for the privilege of fetching her a glass of lemonade (Daphne had 
almost laughed out loud the first time 
that
had happened), she found that no evening was truly 
memorable unless Simon was at her side. 

---

It didn't matter that he seemed to find it necessary to mention at least once every evening that he 
was adamantly opposed to the institution of marriage. (Although, to his credit, he usually 
mentioned this in conjunction with his thankfulness to Daphne for saving him from the 
multitudes of Ambitious Mamas.) And it didn't matter that he occasionally fell silent and was 
even almost rude to certain members of society. All that seemed to matter were those moments 
when they were not quite alone (they were never alone), but still somehow left to their own 
devices. A laughing conversation in a corner, a waltz around a ballroom. Daphne could look into 
his pale blue eyes and almost forget that she was surrounded by five hundred onlookers, all of 
whom were inordinately interested in the state of her courtship. 
And she could almost forget that her courtship was a complete sham. 
Daphne hadn't tried to talk to Anthony about Simon again. Her brother's hostility was apparent 
every time the duke's name was brought up in conversation. And when he and Simon actually 
met—well, Anthony usually managed a certain level of cordiality, but that was all he seemed 
able to muster. 
And yet even amidst all this anger, Daphne could see faint glimmers of the old friendship 
between them. She could only hope that when all this was over—and she was married off to 
some boring but affable earl who never quite managed to make her heart sing—that the two men 
would be friends again. 
At Anthony's somewhat forceful request, Simon had elected not to attend every social event to 
which Violet and Daphne had RSVP'ed in the affirmative. Anthony said that the only reason he 
had agreed to this ridiculous scheme was so that Daphne might find a husband among all her 
new suitors. Unfortunately, in Anthony's opinion (and fortunately in Daphne's) none of these 
eager young gentlemen dared to approach her in Simon's presence. 
"A fat lot of good this is doing," were Anthony's exact words. 
Actually, those exact words had been appended a fair amount of cursing and invective, but 
Daphne had seen no reason to dwell on this. Ever since the incident at—or rather 
in
—the 
Thames, Anthony had spent a great deal of time applying expletives to Simon's name. 
But Simon had seen Anthony's point, and Simon had told Daphne that he wanted her to find a 
suitable husband. 
And so Simon stayed away. 
And Daphne was miserable. 
She supposed she should have known that this was going to happen. She should have realized 
the dangers of being courted—even falsely—by the man society had recently dubbed The 
Devastating Duke. 
The moniker had begun when Philipa Featherington had pronounced him "devastatingly 

---

handsome," and since Philipa didn't know the meaning of the word "whisper," all the 
ton
bore 
witness to her statement Within minutes some droll young buck just down from Oxford had 
shortened and alliterated, and The Devastating Duke was born. 
Daphne found the name woefully ironic. For The Devastating Duke was devastating her heart. 
Not that he meant to. Simon treated her with nothing but respect and honor and good humor. 
Even Anthony was forced to admit that he'd been given no cause to complain in that quarter. 
Simon never tried to get Daphne alone, never did anything more than kiss her gloved hand (and 
much to Daphne's dismay, that had only happened twice). 
They had become the best of companions, their conversations ranging from comfortable silences 
to the wittiest of repartee. At every party, they danced together twice—the maximum permitted 
without scandalizing society. 
And Daphne knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she was falling in love. 
The irony was exquisite. She had, of course, begun spending so much time in Simon's company 
specifically so that she might attract other men. For his part, Simon had begun spending time in 
her
company so that he might avoid marriage. 
Come to think of it, Daphne thought, sagging against the wall, the irony was exquisitely painful. 
Although Simon was still quite vocal on the subject of marriage and his determination never to 
enter that blessed state, she did on occasion catch him looking at her in ways that made her think 
he might desire her. He never repeated any of the risqué comments he'd made before he'd learned 
she was a Bridgerton, but sometimes she caught him looking at her in the same hungry, feral way 
he'd done that first evening. He turned away, of course, as soon as she noticed, but it was always 
enough to set her skin tingling and shorten her breath with desire. 
And his eyes! Everyone likened their color to ice, and when Daphne watched him converse with 
other members of society, she could see why. Simon wasn't as loquacious with others as he was 
with her. His words were more clipped, his tone more brusque, and his eyes echoed the hardness 
in his demeanor. 
But when they were laughing together, just the two of them poking fun at some silly society 
rule, his eyes changed. They grew softer, gentler, more at ease. In her more fanciful moments, 
she almost thought they looked as if they were melting. 
She sighed, leaning even more heavily against the wall. It seemed her fanciful moments were 
coming closer and closer together these days. 
"Ho, there, Daff, why are you skulking in the corner?" 
Daphne looked up to see Colin approaching, his usual cocky smile firmly in place on his 
handsome face. Since his return to London, he had taken the town by storm, and Daphne could 

---

easily name a dozen young ladies who were