|
positive
they were in love with him and
desperate
for his attention. She wasn't worried about her brother's returning any of their affections,
however; Colin obviously had many more wild oats to sow before he settled down.
"I'm not skulking," she corrected. "I'm avoiding."
"Avoiding whom? Hastings?"
"No, of course not. He's not here tonight, anyway."
"Yes, he is."
Since this was Colin, whose primary purpose in life (after chasing loose women and betting on
horses, of course) was to torment his sister, Daphne meant to act blasé, but still she lurched to
attention as she asked, "He is?"
Colin nodded slyly and motioned with his head toward the ballroom entrance. "I saw him enter
not fifteen minutes ago."
Daphne narrowed her eyes. "Are you bamming me? He told me quite specifically that he wasn't
planning to attend tonight."
"And you still came?" Colin laid both his hands on his cheeks and faked surprise.
"Of course I did," she retorted. "My life does not revolve around Hastings."
"Doesn't it?"
Daphne had the sinking feeling that he was not being facetious. "No, it doesn't," she replied,
lying through her teeth. Her life might not revolve around Simon, but her thoughts certainly did.
Colin's emerald eyes grew uncharacteristically serious. "You've got it bad, don't you?"
"I have no idea what you mean."
He smiled knowingly. "You will."
"Colin!"
"In the meantime"—he motioned back toward the ballroom's entrance—"why don't you go and
locate him? Clearly my scintillating company pales in comparison. I can see that your feet are
already inching away from me."
Horrified that her body would betray her in such a way, Daphne looked down.
"Ha! Made you look."
"Colin Bridgerton," Daphne ground out, "sometimes I swear I think you're no more than three
years old."
"An interesting concept," he mused, "and one that would place you at the tender age of one and
a half, little sister."
Lacking a suitably cutting retort, Daphne just fixed upon him her blackest scowl.
But Colin only laughed. "An attractive expression to be sure, sis, but one you might want to
remove from your cheeks. His Devastatingness is heading this way."
Daphne refused to fall for his bait this time. He wasn't going to Make Her Look.
Colin leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, "This time I'm not kidding, Daff."
Daphne held her scowl.
Colin chuckled.
"Daphne!" Simon's voice. Right at her ear.
She whirled around.
Colin's chuckles grew more heartfelt. "You really ought to have more faith in your favorite
brother, dear sis."
"He's your favorite brother?" Simon asked, one dark brow raised in disbelief.
"Only because Gregory put a toad in my bed last night," Daphne bit off, "and Benedict's
standing has never recovered from the time he beheaded my favorite doll."
"Makes me wonder what Anthony's done to deny him even an honorable mention," Colin
murmured.
"Don't you have somewhere else to be?" Daphne asked pointedly.
Colin shrugged. "Not really."
"Didn't," she asked through clenched teeth, "you just tell me you promised a dance to Prudence
Featherington?"
"Gads, no. You must have misheard."
"Perhaps Mother is looking for you, then. In fact, I'm certain I hear her calling your name."
Colin grinned at her discomfort. "You're not supposed to be so obvious," he said in a stage
whisper, purposely loud enough for Simon to hear. "He'll figure out that you like him."
Simon's entire body jerked with barely contained mirth.
"It's not his company I'm trying to secure," Daphne said acidly. "It's yours I'm trying to avoid."
Colin clapped a hand over his heart. "You wound me, Daff." He turned to Simon. "Oh, how she
wounds me."
"You missed your calling, Bridgerton," Simon said genially. "You should have been on the
stage."
"An interesting idea," Colin replied, "but one that would surely give my mother the vapors." His
eyes lit up. "Now that's an idea. And just when the party was growing tedious. Good eve to you
both." He executed a smart bow and walked off.
Daphne and Simon remained silent as they watched Colin disappear into the crowd. "The next
shriek you hear," Daphne said blandly, "will surely be my mother's."
"And the thud will be her body hitting the floor in a dead faint?"
Daphne nodded, a reluctant smile playing across her lips. "But of course." She waited a moment
before saying, "I wasn't expecting you this evening."
He shrugged, the black cloth of his evening jacket wrinkling slightly with the movement. "I was
bored."
"You were bored so you decided to come all the way out to Hampstead Heath to attend Lady
Trowbridge's annual ball?" Her eyebrows arched up. Hampstead Heath was a good seven miles
from Mayfair, at least an hour's drive in the best of conditions, more on nights like tonight, when
all the
ton
was clogging the roads. "Forgive me if I start to question your sanity."
"I'm starting to question it myself," he muttered.
"Well, whatever the case," she said with a happy sigh, "I'm glad you're here. It's been a ghastly
evening."
"Really?"
She nodded. "I have been plagued by questions about you."
"Well, now, this grows interesting."
"Think again. The first person to interrogate me was my mother. She wants to know why you
never call upon me in the afternoon."
Simon frowned. "Do you think it's necessary? I rather thought my undivided attention at these
evening affairs would be enough to perpetrate the ruse."
Daphne surprised herself by managing not to growl in frustration. He didn't need to make this
sound like such a chore. "Your undivided attention," she said, "would have been enough to fool
anyone but my mother. And she probably wouldn't have said anything except that your lack of
calls was reported in
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