The archbishop, who was getting on in years, looked perplexed.
But Hyacinth Bridgerton, who at ten should have known the least
about kisses of anyone, just
blinked thoughtfully, and said, "I think it's nice. If they're laughing now, they'll probably be
laughing forever." She turned to her mother. "Isn't that a good thing?"
Violet took her youngest daughter's hand and squeezed it. "Laughter is always a good thing,
Hyacinth. And thank you for reminding us of that."
And so it was that the rumor was started that the new Duke and Duchess of Hastings were the
most blissfully happy and devoted couple to be married in decades. After all, who could
remember another wedding with so much laughter?
Chapter 14
We are told that the wedding of the Duke of Hastings and the former Miss Bridgerton,
while small,
was most eventful. Miss Hyacinth Bridgerton (ten years of age) whispered to Miss Felicity
Featherington (also aged ten) that the bride and groom actually laughed aloud during the ceremony.
Miss Felicity then repeated this information to her mother, Mrs. Featherington, who then repeated it
to the world .
This Author shall have to trust Miss Hyacinth's account, since This Author was not invited to view
the ceremony .
Lady Whistledown's Society Papers, 24 May 1813
There was to be no wedding trip. There hadn't, after all, been any time to plan one. Instead,
Simon had made arrangements for them to spend several
weeks at Clyvedon Castle, the Bassets'
ancestral seat. Daphne thought this a fine idea; she was eager to get away from London and the
inquiring eyes and ears of the
ton
.
Besides, she was oddly eager to see the place where Simon had grown up.
She found herself imagining him as a young boy. Had he been as irrepressible as he now was
with her? Or had he been a quiet child, with the reserved demeanor he showed to most ofsociety?
The new couple left Bridgerton House amidst cheers and hugs, and
Simon quickly bundled
Daphne into his finest carriage. Although it was summer, there was a chill in the air, and he
carefully tucked a blanket over her lap. Daphne laughed. "Isn't that a bit much?" she teased. "I'm
unlikely to catch a chill on the few short blocks to your home."
He regarded her quizzically. "We travel to Clyvedon."
"Tonight?" She could not disguise her surprise. She had assumed they would embark on their
journey the following day. The village of Clyvedon was located near Hastings, all the way down
on England's southeastern coast. It
was already late afternoon; by the time they reached the
castle, it would be the middle of the night.
This was not the wedding night Daphne had envisioned.
"Wouldn't it make more sense to rest here in London for one night, and then travel on to
Clyvedon?" she asked.
'The arrangements have already been made," he grunted.
"I... see." Daphne made a valiant attempt to hide her disappointment. She was silent for a full
minute as the carriage lurched into motion, the well-sprung wheels unable to
disguise the bumps
from me uneven cobbles beneath them. As they swung around the corner to Park Lane, she
asked, "Will we be stopping at an inn?"
"Of course," Simon replied. "We need to eat supper. It wouldn't do for me to starve you on our
first day of our marriage, would it?"
"Will we be spending the night at this inn?" Daphne persisted.
"No, we—" Simon's mouth clamped shut into a firm line, then inexplicably softened. He turned
to her with an expression of heart-melting tenderness. "I've been a bear, haven't I?"
She blushed. She always blushed when he looked at her like that. "No, no, it's just that I was
surprised that—"
"No, you're right. We will rest the night at an inn. I know of a good
one halfway down to the
coast. The Hare and Hounds. The food is hot, and the beds are clean." He touched her on the
chin. "I shan't abuse you by forcing you to make the entire trip to Clyvedon in one day."
"It's not that I'm not hardy enough for the trip," she said, her face coloring even further as she
considered her next words. "It's just that we did get married today, and if we don't stop at an inn,
we'll be here in
the carriage when night falls, and—"
"Say no more," he said, placing a finger to her lips.
Daphne nodded gratefully. She didn't really wish to discuss their wedding night like this.
Besides, it seemed the sort of topic that the husband ought to bring up, not the wife. After all,
Simon was certainly the more knowledgeable of the two on that subject.
He couldn't possibly be any
less
knowledgeable, she thought with a disgruntled grimace. Her
mother, despite all her hemming and hawing, had managed to tell her absolutely nothing. Well,
except for the bit about the creation of children, not that Daphne understood any of the
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