The duke and I julia Quinn

"intimacies 
upon your person." 
Daphne's lips parted slightly, her short indrawn breath the room's only sound. This was finally 
getting interesting. 
"I am here to tell you," Violet said, her voice turning quite brisk, "that your marital duty need 
not be unpleasant." 
But what 
was
it? 
Violet's cheeks blazed. "I know that some women find the, er, act distasteful, but—" 
"They do?" Daphne asked curiously. 'Then why do I see so many maids sneaking off with the 
footmen?" 
Violet instantly went into outraged employer mode. "Which maid was that?"she demanded. 
"Don't try to change the subject," Daphne warned. "I've been waiting for this all week." 
Some of the steam went out of her mother. "You have?" 
Daphne's look was pure what-did-you-expect. "Well, of course." 

---

Violet sighed and mumbled, "Where was I?" 
"You were telling me that some women find their marital duty unpleasant." 
"Right. Well. Hmmm." 
Daphne looked down at her mother's hands and noticed that she'd practically shredded a 
handkerchief. 
"All I really want you to know," Violet said, the words tumbling out as if she could not wait to 
be rid of them, "is that it needn't be unpleasant at all. If two people care for one another—and I 
believe that the duke cares for you very much—" 
"And I for him," Daphne interrupted softly. 
"Of course. Right. Well, you see, given that you do care for each other, it will probably be a 
very lovely and special moment." Violet started scooting to the foot of the bed, the pale yellow 
silk of her skirts spreading along the quilts as she moved. "And you shouldn't be nervous. I'm 
sure the duke will be very gentle." 
Daphne thought of Simon's scorching kiss. "Gentle" didn't seem to apply."But—" 
Violet stood up like a shot. "Very well. Have a good night. That's what I came here to say." 
"That's all?" 
Violet dashed for the door. "Er, yes." Her eyes shifted guiltily."Were you expecting something 
else?" 
"Yes!" Daphne ran after her mother and threw herself against the door so she couldn't escape. 
"You can't leave telling me only that!" 
Violet glanced longingly at the window. Daphne gave thanks that her room was on the second 
floor; otherwise, she wouldn't have put it past her mother to try to make a getaway that way. 
"Daphne," Violet said, her voice sounding rather strangled. 
"But what do I 
do?
" 
"Your husband will know," Violet said primly. 
"I don't want to make a fool of myself, Mother." 
Violet groaned. "You won't. Trust me. Men are..." 
Daphne seized upon the half-finished thought. "Men are what? What, Mother? What were you 

---

going to say?" 
By now Violet's entire face had turned bright red, and her neck and ears had progressed well 
into the pinks. "Men are easily pleased," she mumbled. "He won't be disappointed." 
"But—" 
"But enough!" Violet finally said firmly. "I have told you everything my mother told me. Don't 
be a nervous ninny, and do it enough so you'll have a baby." 
Daphne's jaw dropped. 
"What?
" 
Violet chuckled nervously. "Did I forget to mention the bit about the baby?" 
"Mother!" 
"Very well. Your marital duty—the, er, consummation, that is—is how you have a baby." 
Daphne sank against the wall. "So you did this eight times?" she whispered. 
"No!" 
Daphne blinked in confusion. Her mother's explanations had been impossibly vague, and she 
still didn't know what marital duty was, precisely, but something wasn't adding up. "But wouldn't 
you have had to do it eight times?" 
Violet began to fan herself furiously. "Yes. No! Daphne, this is very personal." 
"But how could you have had eight children if you—" 
"I did it more than eight times," Violet ground out, looking as if she wanted to melt right into the 
walls. 
Daphne stared at her mother in disbelief."You did?" 
"Sometimes," Violet said, barely even moving her lips, and certainly not moving her eyes off a 
single spot on the floor, "people just do it because they like to." 
Daphne's eyes grew very wide. "They do?" she breathed. 
"Er, yes." 
"Like when men and women kiss?" 
"Yes, exactly," Violet said, sighing with relief. "Very much like—" Her eyes narrowed. 
"Daphne," she said, her voice suddenly shrill, "have you kissed the duke?" 

---

Daphne felt her skin turning a shade that rivaled her mother's. "I might have done," she 
mumbled. 
Violet shook her finger at her daughter. "Daphne Bridgerton, I cannot believe you would do 
such a thing. You know very well I warned you about allowing men such liberties!" 
"It hardly signifies now that we're to be married!" 
"But still—" Violet gave a deflating sigh. "Never mind. You're right. It doesn't signify. You're to 
be married, and to a duke no less, and if he kissed you, well, then, that was to be expected." 
Daphne just stared at her mother in disbelief. Violet's nervous, halting chatter was very much 
out of character. 
"Now then," Violet announced, "as long as you don't have any more questions, I'll just leave you 
to your, er,"—she glanced distractedly at the mementos Daphne had been shuffling through—
"whatever it is that you're doing." 
"But I do have more questions!" 
Violet, however, had already made her escape. 
And Daphne, no matter how desperately she wanted to learn the secrets of the marital act, wasn't 
about to chase her mother down the hall—in full view of all the family and servants—to find out. 
Besides, her mother's talk had raised a new set of worries. Violet had said that the marital act 
was a requirement for the creation of children. If Simon couldn't have children, did that mean he 
couldn't perform those intimacies her mother had mentioned? 
And dash it all, what 
were
those intimacies? Daphne suspected they had something to do with 
kissing, since society seemed so determined to make sure that young ladies keep their lips pure 
and chaste. And, she thought, a blush stealing over her cheeks as she remembered her time in the 
gardens with Simon, they might have something to do with a woman's breasts as well. 
Daphne groaned. Her mother had practically ordered her not to be nervous, but she didn't see 
how she could be otherwise—not when she was expected to enter into this contract without the 
slightest idea of how to perform her duties. 
And what of Simon? If he could not consummate the marriage, would it even 
be
a marriage? 
It was enough to make a new bride very apprehensive, indeed. 
* * * 
In the end, it was the little details of the wedding that Daphne remembered. There were tears in 
her mother's eyes (and then eventually on her face), and Anthony's voice had been oddly hoarse 

---

when he stepped forward to give her away. Hyacinth had strewn her rose petals too quickly, and 
there were none left by the time she reached the altar. Gregory sneezed three times before they 
even got to their vows. 
And she remembered the look of concentration on Simon's face as he repeated his vows. Each 
syllable was uttered slowly and carefully. His eyes burned with intent, and his voice was low but 
true. To Daphne, it sounded as if nothing in the world could possibly be as important as the 
words he spoke as they stood before the archbishop. 
Her heart found comfort in this; no man who spoke his vows with such intensity could possibly 
view marriage as a mere convenience. 
Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder . 
A shiver raced down Daphne's spine, causing her to sway. In just a moment, she would belong 
to this man forever. 
Simon's head turned slightly, his eyes darting to her face.