The duke and I julia Quinn

Breathe, Daphne,
she ordered. 
Breathe. Breathe. You can do it
. 
"Daphne!" 
Daphne made no response. The only sounds she seemed able to make were whimpers. Even 
groans were beyond her capability. 
"Daphne! Christ above, Daphne!" 
She heard someone jump off a horse, then felt movement in the leaves around her. 
"Daphne?" 
"Simon?" she whispered in disbelief. It made no sense that he was here, but it was his voice. 
And even though she still hadn't pried her eyes open, 
it felt
like him. The air changed when he 

---

was near. 
His hands touched her lightly, checking for broken bones. "Tell me where it hurts," he said. 
"Everywhere," she gasped. 
He swore under his breath, but his touch remained achingly gentle and soothing. "Open your 
eyes," he ordered softly. "Look at me. Focus on my face." 
She shook her head. "I can't." 
"You 
can.
" 
She heard him strip off his gloves, and then his warm fingers were on her temples, smoothing 
away the tension. He moved to her eyebrows, then the bridge of her nose. "Shhhh," he crooned. 
"Let it go. Just let the pain go. Open your eyes, Daphne." 
Slowly, and with great difficulty, she did so. Simon's face filled her vision, and for the moment 
she forgot everything that had happened between them, everything but the fact that she loved 
him, and he was here, and he was making the hurt go away. 
"Look at me," he said again, his voice low and insistent. "Look at me and don't take your eyes 
off of mine." 
She managed the tiniest of nods. She focused her eyes on his, letting the intensity of his gaze 
hold her still. 
"Now, I want you to relax," he said. His voice was soft but commanding, and it was exactly 
what she needed. As he spoke, his hands moved across her body, checking for breaks or sprains. 
His eyes never once left hers. 
Simon kept speaking to her in low, soothing tones as he examined her body for injuries. She 
didn't appear to have suffered anything worse than a few bad bruises and having the wind 
knocked out of her, but one could never be too careful, and with the baby... 
The blood drained from his face. In his panic for Daphne, he'd forgotten all about the child she 
was carrying. His child. 
Their child. 
"Daphne," he said slowly. Carefully. "Do you think you're all right?" 
She nodded. 
"Are you still in pain?" 

---

"Some," she admitted, swallowing awkwardly as she blinked. "But it's getting better." 
"Are you certain?" 
She nodded again. 
"Good," he said calmly. He was silent for several seconds and then he fairly yelled, 
"What in 
God's name did you think 
you were doing! " 
Daphne's jaw dropped, and her eyelids started opening and closing with great rapidity. She made 
a strangled sort of sound that might have metamorphosed into an actual word, but Simon cut her 
off with more bellows. 
"What the hell were you doing out here with no groom? And why were you galloping here, 
where the terrain clearly does not allow it?" His eyebrows slammed together. "And for the love 
of God, woman, what were you doing on a horse?" 
"Riding?" Daphne answered weakly. 
"Don't you even care about our child? Didn't you give even a moment's thought to its safety?" 
"Simon," Daphne said, her voice very small. 
"A pregnant woman shouldn't even get within ten feet of a horse! You should know better." 
When she looked at him her eyes looked old. "Why do you care?" she asked flatly. "You didn't 
want this baby." 
"No, I didn't, but now that it's here I don't want you to 
kill
it." 
"Well, don't worry." She bit her lip."It's not here." 
Simon's breath caught. "What do you mean?" 
Her eyes flitted to the side of his face. "I'm not pregnant." 
"You're—" He couldn't finish the sentence. The strangest feeling sank into his body. He didn't 
think it was disappointment, but he wasn't quite sure. "You lied to me?" he whispered. 
She shook her head fiercely as she sat up to face him. "No!" she cried. "No, I never lied. I swear. 
I thought I'd conceived. I truly thought I had. But—" She choked on a sob, and squeezed her eyes 
shut against an onslaught of tears. She hugged her legs to her body and pressed her face against 
her knees. 
Simon had never seen her like this, so utterly stricken with grief. He stared at her, feeling 

---

agonizingly helpless. All he wanted was to make her feel better, and it didn't much help to know 
that 
he
was the cause of her pain. "But what, Daff?" he asked. 
When she finally looked up at him, her eyes were huge, and full of grief. "I don't know. Maybe I 
wanted a child so badly that I somehow willed my courses away. I was so happy last month." 
She let out a shaky breath, one that teetered precariously on the edge of a sob. "I waited and 
waited, even got my woman's padding ready, and nothing happened." 
"Nothing?" Simon had never heard of such a thing. 
"Nothing." Her lips trembled into a faintly self-mocking smile. "I've never been so happy in my 
life to have nothing happen." 
"Did you feel queasy?" 
She shook her head. "I felt no different. Except that I didn't bleed. But then two days ago ..." 
Simon laid his hand on hers. "I'm sorry, Daphne." 
"No you're not," she said bitterly, yanking her hand away. "Don't pretend something you don't 
feel. And for God's sake, don't lie to me again. You never wanted this baby." She let out a 
hollow, brittle laugh. 
"This
baby? Good God, I talk as if it ever actually existed. As if it were 
ever more than a product of my imagination." She looked down, and when she spoke again, her 
voice was achingly sad. "And my dreams." 
Simon's lips moved several times before he managed to say, "I don't like to see you so upset." 
She looked at him with a combination of disbelief and regret. "I don't see how you could expect 
anything else." 
"I—I—I—" He swallowed, trying to relax his throat, and finally he just said the only thing in his 
heart. "I want you back." 
She didn't say anything. Simon silently begged her to say something, but she didn't. And he 
cursed at the gods for her silence, because it meant that he would have to say more. 
"When we argued," he said slowly, "I lost control. I— I couldn't speak." He closed his eyes in 
agony as he felt his jaw tighten. Finally, after a long and shaky exhale, he said, "I hate myself 
like that." 
Daphne's head tilted slightly as furrows formed in her brow. "Is that why you left?" 
He nodded once. 
"It wasn't about—what I did?" 

---

His eyes met hers evenly."I didn't like what you did." 
"But that wasn't why you left?"she persisted. 
There was a beat of silence, and then he said, "It wasn't why I left." 
Daphne hugged her knees to her chest, pondering his words. All this time she'd thought he'd 
abandoned her because he hated her, hated what she'd done, but in truth, the only thing he hated 
was himself. 
She said softly, "You know I don't think less of you when you stammer." 
"I think less of myself." 
She nodded slowly. Of course he would. He was proud and stubborn, and all the 
ton
looked up 
to him. Men curried his favor, women flirted like mad. And all the while he'd been terrified 
every time he'd opened his mouth. 
Well, maybe not every time, Daphne thought as she gazed into his face. When they were 
together, he usually spoke so freely, answered her so quickly that she knew he couldn't possibly 
be concentrating on every word. 
She put her hand on his. "You're not the boy your father thought you were." 
"I know that," he said, but his eyes didn't meet hers. 
"Simon, look at me," she gently ordered. When he did, she repeated her words. "You're not the 
boy your father thought you were." 
"I know that," he said again, looking puzzled and maybe just a bit annoyed. 
"Are you sure?" she asked softly. 
"Damn it, Daphne, I know—" His words tumbled into silence as his body began to shake. For 
one startling moment, Daphne thought he was going to cry. But the tears that pooled in his eyes 
never fell, and when he looked up at her, his body shuddering, all he said was, "I hate him, 
Daphne. I h-h-h—" 
She moved her hands to his cheeks and turned his face to hers, forcing him to meet her steady 
gaze. "That's all right," she said. "It sounds as if he was a horrid man. But you have to let it go." 
"I can't." 
"You 
can.
It's all right to have anger, but you can't let that be the ruling factor in your life. Even 
now, you're letting him dictate your choices." 

---

Simon looked away. 
Daphne's hands dropped from his face, but she made sure they rested on his knees. She needed 
this connection. In a strange way she feared that if she let go of him right now she'd lose him 
forever. "Did you ever stop to wonder if 
you
wanted a family? If you wanted a child of your 
own? You'd be such a wonderful father, Simon, and yet you won't even let yourself consider the 
notion. You think you're getting your revenge, but you're really just letting him control you from 
the grave." 
"If I give him a child, he wins," Simon whispered. 
"No, if you give