“No idea. You?”
Daphne shook her head. “None.” She reached forward and gingerly touched the surface of the stove top. “It's not hot.”
“Not even a little bit?”
She shook her head. “It's rather cold, actually.”
Brother and sister were silent for a few seconds.
“You know,” Anthony finally said, “cold milk might be quite refreshing.”
“I was just thinking that very thing!”
Anthony grinned and found two mugs. “Here, you pour.”
Daphne did, and soon they were seated on stools, gulping down the fresh milk. Anthony drained his mug in short order, and poured another. “You need some more?” he asked, wiping off his milk mustache.
“No, I'm barely halfway to the bottom,” Daphne said, taking another sip. She licked at her lips, fidgeting in her chair. Now that she was alone with Anthony, and he seemed like he was back in his usual good humor, it seemed like a good time to…Well, the truth was…
Oh, blast, she thought to herself, just go ahead and ask him.
“Anthony?” she said, a touch hesitantly. “Could I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“It's about the duke.”
Anthony's mug hit the table with a loud thunk. “What about the duke?”
“I know you don't like him…” she began, her words trailing off.
“It's not that I don't like him,” Anthony said with a weary sigh. “He's one of my closest friends.”
Daphne's brows rose. “One would be hard-pressed to deduce that based on your recent behavior.”
“I just don't trust him around women. Around you in particular.”
“Anthony, you must know that that is one of the silliest things you have ever said. The duke might have been a rake—I suppose he might still be a rake for all I know—but he would never seduce me, if only because I'm your sister.”
Anthony looked unconvinced.
“Even if there weren't some male code of honor about such things,” Daphne persisted, barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes, “he knows you'd kill him if he touched me. The man isn't stupid.”
Anthony refrained from commenting, instead saying, “What was it you wanted to ask me?”
“Actually,” Daphne said slowly, “I was wondering if you knew why the duke was so opposed to marriage.”
Anthony spit his milk halfway across the table. “For Christ's sake, Daphne! I thought we agreed that this was just a charade! Why are you even thinking about marrying him?”
“I'm not!” she insisted, thinking that she might be lying but unwilling to examine her feelings closely enough to be sure. “I'm just curious,” she muttered defensively.
“You had better not be thinking about trying to get him to marry you,” Anthony said with a grunt, “because I'll tell you right now he'll never do it. Never. Do you understand me, Daphne? He won't marry you.”
“I would have to be a half-wit not to understand you,” she grumbled.
“Good. Then that's the end of it.”
“No, it's not!” she returned. “You still haven't answered my question.”
Anthony leveled a stony stare at her across the table.
“About why he won't get married,” she prodded.
“Why are you so interested?” he asked wearily.
The truth, Daphne feared, lay a little too close to Anthony's accusations, but she just said, “I'm curious, and besides, I think I have a right to know, since, if I don't find an acceptable suitor soon, I may become a pariah after the duke drops me.”
“I thought you were supposed to jilt him,” Anthony said suspiciously.
Daphne snorted. “Who is going to believe that?”
Anthony didn't immediately jump to her defense, which Daphne found vaguely annoying. But he did say, “I don't know why Hastings refuses to marry. All I know is that he has maintained this opinion for as long as I've known him.”
Daphne opened her mouth to speak, but Anthony cut her off by adding, “And he's stated it in such a way so that I do not believe his is the weak vow of the beleaguered bachelor.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that unlike most men, when he says he will never marry, he means it.”
“I see.”
Anthony let out a long, tired breath, and Daphne noticed tiny lines of concern around his eyes that she'd never seen before. “Choose a man from your new crowd of suitors,” he said, “and forget Hastings. He's a good man, but he's not for you.”
Daphne latched on to the first part of his sentence. “But you think he's a good—”
“He's not for you,” Anthony repeated.
But Daphne couldn't help thinking that maybe, just maybe, Anthony might be wrong.
Chapter 9
The Duke of Hastings was espied yet again with Miss Bridgerton. (That is Miss Daphne Bridgerton, for those of you who, like This Author, find it difficult to differentiate between the multitudes of Bridgerton offspring.) It has been some time since This Author has seen a couple so obviously devoted to one another.
It does seem odd, however, that, with the exception of the Bridgerton family outing to Greenwich, which was reported in this newspaper ten days earlier, they are seen together only at evening functions. This Author has it on the best authority that while the duke called upon Miss Bridgerton at her home a fortnight ago, this courtesy has not been repeated, and indeed, they have not been seen riding together in Hyde Park even once!
LADY WHISTLEDOWN'S SOCIETY PAPERS, 14 MAY 1813
Two weeks later, Daphne found herself in Hampstead Heath, standing on the fringes of Lady Trowbridge's ballroom, far away from the fashionable crowd. She was quite content with her position.