Hyacinth pondered that for a moment. “If you decide to marry my sister—” she said.
Daphne choked on a biscuit.
“—then you have my approval.”
Simon choked on air.
“But if you don't,” Hyacinth continued, smiling shyly, “then I'd be much obliged if you'd wait for me.”
Luckily for Simon, who had little experience with young girls and not a clue how to respond, Gregory came dashing by and yanked on Hyacinth's hair. She immediately took off after him, her eyes narrowed with the single-minded determination to get even.
“I never thought I'd say this,” Daphne said, laughter in her voice, “but I believe you have just been saved by my younger brother.”
“How old is your sister?” Simon asked.
“Ten, why?”
He shook his head in bewilderment. “Because for a moment, I could have sworn she was forty.”
Daphne smiled. “Sometimes she is so like my mother it's frightening.”
At that moment, the woman in question stood and began to summon her children back to the boat. “Come along!” Violet called out. “It's growing late!”
Simon looked at his pocket watch. “It's three.”
Daphne shrugged as she rose to her feet. “To her that's late. According to Mother, a lady should always be home at five o'clock.”
“Why?”
She reached down to pick up the blanket. “I have no idea. To get ready for the evening, I suppose. It's one of those rules I've grown up with and deemed best not to question.” She straightened, holding the soft blue blanket to her chest, and smiled. “Are we ready to go?”
Simon held out his arm. “Certainly.”
They took a few steps toward the boat, and then Daphne said, “You were very good with Hyacinth. You must have spent a great deal of time with children.”
“None,” he said tersely.
“Oh,” she said, a puzzled frown decorating her face. “I knew you had no siblings, but I had assumed you must have met some children on your travels.”
“No.”
Daphne held silent for a moment, wondering if she should pursue the conversation. Simon's voice had grown hard and forbidding, and his face…
He didn't look like the same man who had teased Hyacinth mere minutes earlier.
But for some reason—maybe because it had been such a lovely afternoon, maybe it was just because the weather was fine—she faked a sunny smile and said, “Well, experience or no, you clearly have the touch. Some adults don't know how to talk to children, you know.”
He said nothing.
She patted his arm. “You'll make some lucky child an excellent father someday.”
His head whipped around to face her, and the look in his eyes nearly froze her heart. “I believe I told you I have no intention of marrying,” he bit off. “Ever.”
“But surely you—”
“Therefore it is unlikely that I shall ever have children.”
“I…I see.” Daphne swallowed and attempted a shaky smile, but she had a feeling she didn't manage anything more than a slight quivering of her lips. And even though she knew that their courtship was nothing more than a charade, she felt a vague sense of disappointment.
They reached the edge of the dock, where most of the rest of the Bridgertons were milling about. A few had already boarded, and Gregory was dancing on the gangplank.
“Gregory!” Violet called out, her voice sharp. “Stop that at once!”
He stilled, but didn't move from his position.
“Either get on the boat or come back to the dock.”
Simon slipped his arm from Daphne's, muttering, “That gangplank looks wet.” He started moving forward.
“You heard Mother!” Hyacinth called out.
“Oh, Hyacinth,” Daphne sighed to herself. “Can't you just keep out of it?”
Gregory stuck out his tongue.
Daphne groaned, then noticed that Simon was still walking toward the gangplank. She hurried to his side, whispering, “Simon, I'm sure he'll be fine.”
“Not if he slips and gets caught in the ropes.” He motioned with his chin to a tangled mess of ropes that were hanging off the boat.
Simon reached the end of the gangplank, walking casually, as if he hadn't a worry in the world. “Are you going to get moving?” he called out, stepping out onto the narrow piece of wood. “So that I might cross?”
Gregory blinked. “Don't you have to escort Daphne?”
Simon groaned and moved forward, but just then, Anthony, who had already boarded the small yacht, appeared at the top of the gangplank.
“Gregory!” he called out sharply. “Get on this boat at once!”
From down on the dock, Daphne watched with horror as Gregory spun around in surprise, losing his footing on the slippery wood. Anthony leapt forward, making a frantic grab with his arms, but Gregory had already slid to his bottom, and Anthony caught only air.
Anthony fought for balance as Gregory slid down the gangplank, clipping Simon rather neatly in the shins.
“Simon!” Daphne croaked, running forward.
Simon went tumbling into the murky water of the Thames, just as Gregory wailed a heartfelt, “I'm sorry!” He scooted up the gangplank backwards on his behind—rather like a crab, actually—not at all looking where he was going.
Which probably explained why he had no idea that Anthony—who had almost managed to regain his balance—was only a few short feet behind him.
Gregory rammed into Anthony with a thud on his part and a grunt on Anthony's, and before anyone knew it, Anthony was sputtering in the water, right next to Simon.