Daphne punched him in the arm. “Kindly recall that there is a lady present, churl.” But there was little ire in her voice. Of all her siblings, Colin was the closest to her in age—only eighteen months her elder. As children, they had been inseparable—and always in trouble. Colin was a natural prankster, and Daphne had never needed much convincing to go along with his schemes. “Does Mother know you're home?” she asked.
Colin shook his head. “I arrived to an empty house, and—”
“Yes, Mother put the younger ones to bed early tonight,” Daphne interrupted.
“I didn't want to wait about and twiddle my thumbs, so Humboldt gave me your direction and I came here.”
Daphne beamed, her wide smile lending warmth to her dark eyes. “I'm glad you did.”
“Where is Mother?” Colin asked, craning his neck to peer over the crowd. Like all Bridgerton males, he was tall, so he didn't have to stretch very far.
“Over in the corner with Lady Jersey,” Daphne replied.
Colin shuddered. “I'll wait until she's extricated herself. I have no wish to be flayed alive by that dragon.”
“Speaking of dragons,” Benedict said pointedly. His head didn't move, but his eyes flicked off to the left.
Daphne followed his line of vision to see Lady Danbury marching slowly toward them. She carried a cane, but Daphne swallowed nervously and steeled her shoulders. Lady Danbury's often cutting wit was legendary among the ton. Daphne had always suspected that a sentimental heart beat under her acerbic exterior, but still, it was always terrifying when Lady Danbury pressed one into conversation.
“No escape,” Daphne heard one of her brothers groan.
Daphne shushed him and offered the old lady a hesitant smile.
Lady Danbury's brows rose, and when she was but four feet away from the group of Bridgertons, she stopped, and barked, “Don't pretend you don't see me!”
This was followed by a thump of the cane so loud that Daphne jumped back just enough to trample Benedict's toe.
“Euf,” said Benedict.
Since her brothers appeared to have gone temporarily mute (except for Benedict, of course, but Daphne didn't think that grunts of pain counted as intelligible speech) Daphne swallowed, and said, “I hope I did not give that impression, Lady Danbury, for—”
“Not you,” Lady Danbury said imperiously. She jabbed her cane into the air, making a perfectly horizontal line that ended perilously close to Colin's stomach. “Them.”
A chorus of mumbled greetings emerged as a response.
Lady Danbury flicked the men the briefest of glances before turning back to Daphne, and saying, “Mr. Berbrooke was asking after you.”
Daphne actually felt her skin turn green. “He was?”
Lady Danbury gave her a curt nod. “I'd nip that one in the bud, were I you, Miss Bridgerton.”
“Did you tell him where I was?”
Lady Danbury's mouth slid into a sly, conspiratorial smile. “I always knew I liked you. And no, I did not tell him where you were.”
“Thank you,” Daphne said gratefully.
“It'd be a waste of a good mind if you were shackled to that nitwit,” Lady Danbury said, “and the good Lord knows that the ton can't afford to waste the few good minds we've got.”
“Er, thank you,” Daphne said.
“As for you lot”—Lady Danbury waved her cane at Daphne's brothers—“I still reserve judgment. You”—she pointed the cane at Anthony—“I'm inclined to be favorable toward, since you refused Berbrooke's suit on your sister's behalf, but the rest of you…Hmmph.”
And with that she walked away.
“‘Hmmph?’” Benedict echoed. “‘Hmmph?’ She purports to quantify my intelligence and all she comes up with is ‘Hmmph?’”
Daphne smirked. “She likes me.”
“You're welcome to her,” Benedict grumbled.
“Rather sporting of her to warn you about Berbrooke,” Anthony admitted.
Daphne nodded. “I believe that was my cue to take my leave.” She turned to Anthony with a beseeching look. “If he comes looking for me—”
“I'll take care of it,” he said gently. “Don't worry.”
“Thank you.” And then, with a smile to her brothers, she slipped out of the ballroom.
As Simon walked quietly through the halls of Lady Danbury's London home, it occurred to him that he was in a singularly good mood. This, he thought with a chuckle, was truly remarkable, considering the fact that he was about to attend a society ball and thus subject himself to all the horrors Anthony Bridgerton had laid out before him earlier that afternoon.
But he could console himself with the knowledge that after today, he needn't bother with such functions again; as he had told Anthony earlier that afternoon, he was only attending this particular ball out of loyalty to Lady Danbury, who, despite her curmudgeonly ways, had always been quite nice to him as a child.
His good mood, he was coming to realize, derived from the simple fact that he was pleased to be back in England.
Not that he hadn't enjoyed his journeys across the globe. He'd traveled the length and breadth of Europe, sailed the exquisitely blue seas of the Mediterranean, and delved into the mysteries of North Africa. From there he'd gone on to the Holy Land, and then, when inquiries revealed that it was not yet time to return home, he crossed the Atlantic and explored the West Indies. At that point he considered moving on to the United States of America, but the new nation had seen fit to enter into conflict with Britain, so Simon had stayed away.